Going for a JOG

With the Ships Dog safely collected from his luxury country retreat in Derbyshire,  we called in to say hello to a few chaps who were fresh back in "town" having just sailed around the world.

It was good to see the familiar faces again, a little more tanned and rugged looking than just 11 months ago when I last saw them.
It was over a quick cider that Sue,  a Sussex yacht club member and triple clipper legger on Old Pulteney, asked if I had thought about entering the JOG race in just a few days time which was going from Cowes to Fecamp.

The Junior Offshore group is for amateur, unsponsored boats

Hmmm. what a good idea! 
Sue and I had briefly discussed sailing together this summer to see firstly, how we get on as a double handed team and then secondly, if all goes well to arrange a longer distance trip with the aim of qualifying as a possible second team entry for the AZAB in 2015.
Hazel, who co-skippered Boogie Nights for the Triangle race is already qualified for the AZAB.

A quick phone call, followed by some rapid entry form filling, and we were on the list.

All of the cruising paraphernalia that I had started to load on the boat, went swiftly back to the car for storage along with a few more bits that I had identified as unnecessary. 

Before I had a chance to think too much more about weather patterns, tidal flows or race starts, Thursday arrived and along with it, Sue.
The plan was to have a little familiarisation sail over toward Cowes where we planned to "hang out" for a night before race start at 0730 friday morning.
The wind decided familiarisation sailing is for loosers, so after an hour or so of sailing nowhere fast, we had to motor over to Cowes.

Sue whipped the charts out and I read out the sailing instructions from the race entry so that we could be sure we took the correct route east from Cowes and out past the various buoyage before turning southwards toward Fecamp in France.
A swift and elegant G&T and it was bed time at midnight.

Rising at 0530 to give the ships dog his last sniff of fresh turf and Sue her morning cuppa we headed off for the race start with hazy sunny skies beckoning.

There was a rip snorter of a tide by the start line and given our lack of boat familiarisation the day before, this was Sue's first proper go at pulling on lines with any real urgency. We gave ourselves plenty of space to avoid being in the way of the "serious" guys and to avoid the risk of spearing anyone with #beargryllsbarbie
We were so wrapped up in our discussion about gybing that we actually missed the visual start signal someway behind us being hoisted up a flag pole on shore. So we crossed the line about two minutes late.
Nay mind, it's a long enough race of 90 miles and I didn't worry about two minutes lost.

It turned out to be a race of halves. Or something like that.
Half the fleet headed east and picked up more consistent breezes and managed a reasonable time down to France with the faster boats arriving around midnight.
The other half, which included us, took a more direct route, which unfortunately took us straight into a large area of no fucking wind. (or NFW as I shall henceforth refer to it.)

The first hour was spent optimistically thinking the wind would pick up soon. I took the opportunity to take a power nap.
The second hour of NFW was spent thinking maybe we should quit, in between re-applying sun cream and reducing layers of clothing.
The third hour was spent desperately trying to stop the sails flogging to allow the 5kts of breeze to take effect. Sue sang a "wind song" that involved sprouts.
At this point a large thunder cloud was on the horizon.

anti-becalming weapon

Then I put my shortest shorts on and smallest top. Normally this is the trigger for squalls or at the very least the sun to hide behind a cloud. Still NFW

The deciding factor was, if that thunder cloud brings wind, then let's carry on. If not, then we motor the remaining 60 miles to France.

30 minutes after donning those short shorts... the sun went behind a cloud, Boogie Nights kicked up its heels, accelerated back up to 7kts and we were jiving for a very happy few miles.
Then that wind gradually eased back though as evening approached, so the beautiful warm night was spent eaking and tweaking with the main sail to squeak as much boat speed out of the wind as possible. All the while an eclectic mix of music wafted out of the cockpit speakers causing the odd spontaneous dance move or sing along by whoever was on watch.

The morning arrived, and with it, the final straw.

Percy Verance who had stayed on board for the previous 22 hours decided he was getting off when the sails started to bang about and our speed dropped to zero.

And so our race was ended sadly in retirement. We motored the final 26 miles to France. Arriving in perfect time for mid day drinks in the club house.

glassy sea, Fecamp ahead

Hot Hot Hot and NFW forces race retirement

We weren't the only ones to retire. There were several others in the same situation as us. Though we were the last to give up on the hope of finishing which made us the last to arrive in Fecamp.

Fecamp is a fairly average french seaside town, nothing particularly outstanding but nothing bad either.
There's plenty of small eateries with the obligatory arrogant french service staff.

No dining out experience is complete in France without being made to feel like a naughty child at the dinner table.

check out our selfie

north facing cliffs at Fecamp are a geologists text book wet dream

So while we were feeling childish, we found a tame dragon fly and asked it to pose for us....

dragonfly training

Obi wan struggles to train this padawan

I also baked Cookies - if you want to know how then follow my simple baking guide

 

Mooring in Fecamp is often a rafting up affair due to being a popular stopover port. 

On arrival we were rafted three out, but the two boats inside us left to return to the UK allowing us to move onto the pontoon for the night. Early the following morning what appeared to be a large grey block of flats pulled alongside to raft up, blocking out the light and rousing us from our luxurious slumber. It was a large high sided catamaran with cigar smoking dutch people on board. We pre-warned them of our impending departure planned for the late evening.
Soon after, another dutch boat, a smaller monohulled yacht being sailed by two chaps, sun kissed and slightly rugged looking, came along and moored on the freshly emptied space on the opposite side of the pontoon hammerhead to us. Sue made clear her approval of the easy on the eye new neighbour while she spied out of the galley window as she made a cup of tea.
After our walk along the beach and lunch back on the boat, the block-of-flats neighbour suggested we swap places to enable a swift getaway for us later.
The downside to this was that our views of the rugged looking chap were now obliterated by the block of flats and we were now downwind of the vile stench emanating from the fattest cigars I have ever seen being smoked by our catamaran dwelling neighbours.
We jokingly discussed finding reasons to adjust things up the mast in order to catch a last glimpse, but Mr Rugged saved us the bother by being hoisted up his own mast and appeared, lurching skywards in short stilted moments alongside the familiar squeak of blocks and pulleys under load of human weight.
The vile cigar stench now wafting down on us and pervading the entire boat made us bring forward our plans to leave though and we started making ready to leave at 2030.

For the return journey back to Gosport, readers of my previous post Channel Hopping will have noted my observation about the wind on that occasion.
Well, it was true to form. Blowing from the north with a bit of blowing from the west as well. Which just so happens to be EXACTLY the way we wanted to go.

It would seem that Percy Verance who was on the outward leg but got off early had been replaced by Sod and his law. 

So the return journey was likely to be a mix of pointing-not-directly-where-we-wanted-to-go along with dodging squalls and getting wet, if the weather forecast was anywhere near accurate.

A lovely night sail brought a pretty sunrise when the sun eventually broke through and then the dark clouds started looming. The fork lightening started. Off in the distance at first, rumbling away distantly. It approached us as we reached the middle of the traffic separation area in the northern sector of the channel. Just as we reached the central reservation of the shipping motorway, the wind shifted, meaning we couldn't sail directly across the next lane. So we headed toward the light ship marking the end of the shipping lane in the hope we could start to head north west toward our goal.

But then the first of the squalls came. And with it a deluge. In seconds I was ankle deep in the cockpit despite its large draining capacity. Unable to outrun the storms we had to run with them, full main sail up and a partially furled genoa we watched the wind accelerate from 10kts to 30kts and we were humming along, Sue working the mainsail to avoid us being overpowered and I was on helm to keep us pointing toward the light, while lightening forked behind us.

Sue on helm in lumpy seas

Ideally we needed to reef but being in a fairly precarious place in the shipping lanes we needed to find some sea room to park the boat while we shortened the main sail.
Sue had never used single line reefing before so we needed a little extra time to allow for this.

Eventually we had space to reef, hove-to in the now quite lumpy sea while we reduced sail area and set off again with much better sail trim and comfortable boat speed heading in the right direction for once.

It was fairly short lived though, after two or three hours of that, the sun came out and we were shaking the reefs out and applying the sun cream again but struggling to point exactly the way we wanted to.

feet up, drying out after the earlier squalls and thunder storms

lifelines, a brew and home made cookies. Signs of a good passage.

While I was snoozing in the cockpit I was rudely awoken by a strange whooshing noise.
The first thing I saw was Sue, suddenly engulfed in lifejacket, as it had triggered and inflated.
The mainsheet tweaker sheet had somehow snagged the lifejackets toggle as Sue was trimming.

trapped at the wheel by an accidentally triggered lifejacket

With the lifejacket inflated, Sue couldn't actually fit between the wheel and the backstay and was trapped at the helm.  Both of us were unable to do anything for laughing at the sight of it.

We realised that any lady sporting zeppelins in her chest area would struggle to get in or out of the helm position.

the final approaches into the solent were frustrating and involved tack after tack. Then another squall hit us for a while, which sent us off in a spin. Quite literally.

We motored the final three miles back into Gosport where we moored up 22 hours after leaving France.

Where we went:

Extreme baking - part 1

Nothing lifts the spirits quite so well as a freshly baked goodie.

Whether that’s fresh baked bread, pastry, cookie or cake.

Some of Boogie Nights blog readers may recall my urge to bake a cake mid passage during the Triangle race recently.

I list “extreme baking” as one of my pastimes on my CV. It's almost a sport and I'm quite competitive.

Having fresh baked goods on board is a great way to make friends in port and can add a touch of the good life to a trip out, whether that’s a long passage, a race or short day sail.

Just because conditions can sometimes get hostile on board a sailing yacht, doesn’t mean we have to loose sight of civil things such as good food.

A happy and well fed crew is going to perform much better than one surviving only on tasteless dried food or canned mush.

Most people shy away from baking on board because of the paraphernalia required and the messy potential of dealing with raw ingredients. Not to mention a certain level of skill involved in getting the measurements right on a boat that might be leaning at 45 degrees and bouncing around, weighing scales are rendered useless.

In port we have the luxury of using the table, but at sea I use the floor space and the galley sink and drainer as secure places to put things to avoid them going flying.

breadcrumbs in the left bowl and sticky dough ball in the right bowl.

Getting the tools right before you start is essential.

What you will need:

• A set of measuring cups/scoops and spoons

• A sieve, small and large. (not absolutely essential)
• A large enough bowl or container to fit everything into whilst mixing, (one which has a clipable lid is ideal if you have to abandon your project partway due to adverse conditions.) 
  
• A measuring jug.
• A pair of rubber gloves (marigolds work fine and last ages)
• A non-stick baking tray with sides
• Grater with various sized grating faces (not absolutely essential but very useful)
• An airtight container, (this could be your mixing bowl/container.)

Two simple recipes for cookies

 

lemon, ginger & cinnamon cookies on the left  --  chocolate & chilli cookies on the right

ingredients can be used for more than just baking.

it all fits into a fairly compact space

Lemon, ginger & cinnamon cookies

Ingredients:

• 100g (2/3s of a cup) Plain flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
• ½ teasppon ground cinnamon
• ½ teaspoon ground ginger
• ¼ teaspoon ground allspice or mixed spice
• finely grated rind of 1 lemon
• 50g  butter (1/5^th of a regular 250g block)
• 50g caster sugar (1/4 cup slightly generous)
• 2 tablespoons of golden syrup

Chuck into your bowl or mixing container : the flour, baking powder, bicarb of soda, spices and grated lemon rind. Give it a stir with a stick/spoon/fork  Or put the lid on securely and give it a jiggle.

Once it’s nicely mixed up, chuck the butter in, diced ideally and don your rubber glove. One handed is fine for this, you need to massage the butter and dry ingredients together until they become breadcrumbs.

If you need to attend to deck duties at this time, simply slide the glove off, leaving it carefully in the container, stick the lid on and you can carry on where you left off later.

Light your oven. We are aiming for 180 degrees or gas mark 4, which in boat oven terms is usually <maximium>

Once the mix has become breadcrumbs, you can then add the caster sugar. You could use regular sugar, it's not that critical. Again, give the mix a good jiggle with a stick/spoon or other useful stirring/mixing object.

Once that lot is mixed, you can then chuck in two table spoons of syrup, stir it up and then get your gloved hand back in there to squeeze everything together by massaging it into a ball.

Once it’s all together in a ball, divide it into 12 equal parts, more or less and roll each part into a ball.

Get the non-stick tray and place the balls firmly to avoid them rolling about and evenly spaced to allow for spreading when in the oven. 

they spread quite a lot in the oven, if they touch though, they are easily separated once cooled.

Put the tray in the oven on the best shelf for the highest heat. Some ovens burn stuff at the back, so you might need to spin the tray round half way.

They should take about 10 mins.

Take the tray out and leave it somewhere safe to allow them to cool and harden up for 2 minutes. This may be a grill area if you have one or you might identify a safe area, such as a cupboard or behind a leacloth on a bunk or anywhere they can sit safely until they’ve gone hard. Once all of the balls are turned into cookies, you can wipe clean the mixing container and put the cookies into it, ready to serve.

Chocolate and chilli cookies

Ingredients:

• 100g (2/3s of a cup) Plain flour
• 1 tablespoon cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
• ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 50g (1/4 cup) light muscavado sugar (demerera will do)
• 50g  butter (1/5^th of a regular 250g block)
• ¼ teaspoon ready chopped chilli from a jar or mild fresh chopped red chilli
• 2 tablespoons of golden syrup
• 100g plain dark chocolate (smashed or finely chopped/coarse grated)

Put all the dry ingredients together into your mixing container, mix em up.

Then, it’s glove time, chuck in the diced butter and chilli. Give it a good rub until all the ingredients look like breadcrumbs.

Add the syrup, mix with a stick or spoon first then massage into a ball.

Light the oven, if using a boat oven, most likely setting is <maximum> or, if using a domestic oven, then 180 degrees or gas mark 4.

finally add the chopped up chocolate and knead that lot into the sticky ball so that its evenly distributed through the large dough ball.

Divide into 12 bits, roll into balls and squish down lightly onto the baking tray allowing space between for the balls to flatten out and spread a bit.

Put the tray in the oven, they should take around 10 minutes more or less.

Let them cool for a couple of minutes when they’re done so they harden up, then put them into your air tight container ready to serve. 

Wet Shave

It's just three weeks since we popped our racing cherry in the Yachting Monthly Triangle Race and added another 1000 miles to the log book.
The antifoul that I put on in December was originally meant for the weedy needy River Crouch where practically the moment you put the boat in the water are the various weeds and cunning water creatures working out who is having which bit of this new surface area territory that has landed in their world.

The south coast is a slightly different kettle of fishiness. My soft easy wearing East Coast antifouling has picked up weed, then been blasted off and then the weed decided to have another go, this time sticking itself to the epoxy hull where the antifoul paint has worn away. Where the sun hits the boat the most on the current mooring is right up at the bow (pointy bit) and the boat has developed a green goatee. (or a Billy)

A green goatee

This means I either get the boat lifted, jet washed off and a quick top up with antifoul more suitable to the South Coast, which will cost me around £170 for the lift plus a can of antifoul. Or find a scrubbing post and attempt to balance the boat alongside so I can jet wash and touch up antifoul that way, which is a cheaper method. Or, even cheaper than that, I don my wetsuit, go for a swim and get scrubbing and give Boogie Nights a wet shave to knock back the goatee and buy me some more time between lift outs and more importantly, save me some money.

"Cost - nowt but a couple of hours swimming about."

 Banjo was unaware of my plans and looked on slightly worried as I wriggled and cursed, started sweating profusely,  wriggled and tugged whilst jumping up and down and cursed some more as I lithely slipped my old wetsuit on. (most recently worn a couple of years or so ago when I had to go in to clear the prop)

These things must shrink in the cupboard.
It was like a neoprene corset when I finally zipped it up. The label inside says SM, it should read BDSM.

A scrubbing brush and a crepe spatula - the perfect tools

I rummaged around in the lazarette and cutlery drawer finding practical tools for shaving a boat-goatee and discovered that my crépe spatula is just the job for giving Msr Weed the Gallic shrug.

Despite the hot weather, it's always a bit of a breath taking moment when we first lower ourselves down the bathing ladder. Good job my tight wetsuit rendered me incapable of breathing in much more which made the visiting neighbour boat occupant, who was watching me,  think that I'm much harder than I really am.

cleaning the rudder with my feet

The black part near the surface of the water is where weed sticks the most

It's trickier than you might imagine scrubbing and scraping a boat bottom whilst bobbing around, highly buoyant in a wetsuit. The technique I had to use was to swim toward the hull whilst going at it with the scrubbing brush or crepe spatula.

Handy hint:
I slung a strong line from the front of the boat, just hanging above the water and then tied off half way down the boat. This gave me something I could hang onto and use to brace against.
I also took a buoyancy jacket in with me. I wasn't wearing it, but used it as a float to lean on to keep my arm from getting tired while scrubbing.

A buoyancy aid makes a good low level assistance float

It's quite a sobering position to be in actually, (in the water) it's a good reminder that should I ever fall overboard, it would be impossible to get back on without help or a ladder. The sides of the boat loom over me. I can't imagine what it must be like trying to get back on in rough weather.

After nearly two hours of turning pruney I decided enough was enough. I've done my best. Sure there's still going to be some hairy bits here and there. But it's now looking much smoother around the water line. The goatee is gone.

smooth

The antifoul is almost all worn off at the bow

Since it was such a lovely warm day, it was a good opportunity for a team building exercise.
Banjo was unimpressed with his enforced swim.
"Come on it'll be good for you. Character building" I said.
His life jacket does a good job of floating him but ideally there should be some sort of chin flap to help keep his head/nose out of the water. I might have to modify it.

Reluctant team swimming

The reason for this flurry of scrubbing is because we've entered another race, this time, a quick one over to France.

Best get packing all my shit away again!

Vomit comet - A sprint north

Yachting Monthly Triangle Race: leg 3 - Treguier to Torquay

Welcome back for the third and final installment of the triangle story.

why did Barbie blush? Because the sea weed.

I’m back, it’s Beach Barbie reporting on behalf of Boogie Nights skippers Jayne and Hazel.

We all had a delightfully merry time in Treguier, France.

Well, I say all, they did, not me. I didn't get so much as a sip.

Those Brittanny folks treated us so well. Except for the French man who came and leant on me not realising I was even there, spinning me round on my cable tie, I was facing port for some time and I felt slightly queasy until Jayne came and set me straight again.