the 25 hour day

I was lucky to be able to join a late season trip to Dunkirk on the local RYA school boat Piranha, run by crouch sailing school.

What I didn't realise was that I would be finishing my coastal skipper practical during the trip.

I joined 3 other crew (Caterina, Steve, Hugh) and skipper/instructor Nick.

Amazingly good weather meant we had a lovely trip over the channel and back again.
Excellent sea conditions too. The best way to spend the clock change weekend with the extra hour.

I really really enjoyed it.

the direct link to the pics: Dunkirk trip

claustrophobic

I'm enjoying having the facility to enable me to power my heater. Its nice. Its convenient.
I'm also enjoying not having to row out in the storms and heavy weather we've had over the past two months.
But I crave some space to breath.

Being in the marina I'm so convenient for people to just pop in and see me.

I dread the tap tap tap in a morning at a weekend. When I'm trying to catch up on sleep deprivation. When I'm catching up on some "me" time.

My day job is quite intense. People asking something of me every few minutes throughout the day. I commute on a packed train, I answer the phone, I answer the people I work with constantly. They bombard me with requests. We demand this, we demand that.
It feels like this Billy Connolly sketch:



So, I crave solace.

I do not crave company.
I do not crave love.
I do not crave hugs.

I'm really looking forward to being back out in the river.

six weeks until my marina mooring ends. Lets just hope the weather warms up a bit.
Otherwise I'm going to be cold.

Marshmallow boat

It snowed.

Tripping

It was a familiar feeling. Sitting there in the dark working away on my laptop doing some nonsense with pictures as usual.
Then the equally familiar feeling, Brrr, I feel cold.
I glance down at the heater. It's gone off. I glance over to the mains power switch.
Darkness.

Hmm. Which one of us has tripped the power off this time?
I arm myself with a big screwdriver to open the electric cupboard and my trusty headtorch. The brilliant  Black Diamond Head torch

The power had tripped off. No problem. I just turn all the boats off (three of us) and turn us back on one at a time to see which one has the problem.
Last time this happened it was the neighbour for a reason I couldn't work out so had to leve him switched off and tell the marina. This time. It was me.
Worried something was shorting out, I went inside and switched the mains power off inside the boat on the battery charger.
I tried again, it still tripped the power off.
I luckily still have the spare electric cable of the friendly fisherman in my anchor locker, so I by-passed my own cable and meter and went direct.
No problem. Power works fine.
So I unplugged my meter from my shorepower cable. S
SLOSH
ahahaaa.

Water had filled one end of the meter fittings and socket, eventually filling enough to trip the power out.
Thank goodness for trip switches.
I took the socket apart, water flowed out and left it to dry near the heater for a weekend.
It's now re-installed inside the anchor locker where it's kept out of the rain.

Roland

As I mentioned previously, I do rotation of clothes in my wardrobe to keep the damp down. As part of the battle against damp I also rotate which bed I use.
I installed under mattress breathable matting which has helped hugely in reducing the moisture. But, it's not completely eliminated.
So at the end of December I decamped from the forward cabin to the aft cabin. The aft cabin is a much bigger bed but perversely less room to stand.
So I prefer the other cabin.
Anyway, The back cabin has a cockpit facing lewmar opening window.
Which is nice to look out of and see the sole of the cockpit and what the weather is doing.
The bed is also low enough for the dog to jump on and off of. Which can be annoying.

This morning I was awoken by surprise, the dog jumped on me. Quite excited.
I put this off to him needing to go outside to do you-know-whats
I told him to fuck off and laid back down again.
I heard the pitter patter of a bird in the cockpit. I quickly glance out of the window to see which one it is. No sign of it.
I lay back down. Pitter patter
I look out of the window again, no sign of the bird.
Bastard fucking bird doesn't want me to sleep I cursed.

So I got up.

dressed and fed I opened the hatch and dropped the Banjo into the cockpit area. He shot forward, ruff up, pointing his nose to the small gas locker area under the winch bar. Tail rapidly wagging. I instinctively closed the hatch behind me as I exited the boat. I then climbed on the lazarette lid. Pocked the blanket (that I had stuffed around the gas bottle to keep the frost off) with my toe. The blanket moved, then the pitter patter of small feet as a GIANT rat legged it out of the gas locker and vanished down the back, under the false floor for the wheel.

Bugger.
That was no bird.

I poked around a bit into the steering cable area to no avail.

I then carried my plastic bag full of last nights curry to the bin and the half chewed blanket that had been around the gas bottle. I must learn NOT to leave my rubbish bag out over night like that.
Rats are keen buggers, at the slightest scent of something that may or may not be edible.

Roland is still at large.

plastic sweats and my new tube

The cold weather is making the hull sweat.
I came back from a quick trip to the north at new year with my de-humidifier.
It's been chugging away removing some of the moisture but it has hardly any effect on the cupboards.

My wardrobe is one place that suffers damp. I have to rotate and air my clothes every other day. I take them out and hang them somewhere else to air, to dry a bit then rotate back into the damp cupboard. It's carpet lined, but somehow still damp.
I took my favourite dress and jacket out to see the first signs of mildew mould forming on them. That could have been very costly if I hadn't caught it so soon. I still have a strong (angry) memory of my favourite (expensive) sandals becoming absolutely ruined with mildew when they were stored over winter in a deep wardrobe on my last boat. This time I brushed the mould off a pair of Sebago deck shoes, another pair of sandals and a bag of clothes stashed in the bottom of the wardrobe. I know from bitter past experience, I can't stuff the wardrobe. It MUST have breathing space. But even with breathing space, the evil mould keeps threatening.

Cunning plan.

I've heard about people using tube heaters around their engines. But what about in small cupboards?
I looked on the expansive Amazon website for reviews of small tube heaters. 30cm tube heaters cost less than £20 and run on 45-50 watts. If I consider the cost of damage to my clothes, I think it's worth a try.

The electric cables drive me mad all over the floor, I try to keep them tidy, but it's a daily battle. Walk bare foot at your peril.

Thats a 2 kilowatt heater. (750 + 1250) which does a good job of keeping the boat warm during winter.

and that is a small tube heater, molly coddling my clothes, keeping the bastard fucking evil mildew at bay. It also means my clothes aren't absolutely freezing and feel rather nice when I put them on in a morning. It doesn't make them warm, just dry. 50watts.

I'm currently juicing up at around 12 units of electricity per day. at 24 pence a unit... I'm trying not to think about it to be honest.

I'm like whatever to December 25th

It's that wonderful time of year, you know when everyone is told to "cheer up, it's xmas"

told to not be a "scrooge"

told that because you don't join in, you are a "bah humbug"

Santa doesn't exist. 

You can keep your excessive eating, drinking and partying. If I was Jewish, Jehovah Witness, Muslim, Hindu or any other religion than Christian it would be frowned upon to say such things to me.
But since I am a scientist, I believe in quantum physics, I'm a Jedi. Please stop expecting me to join in with your annual season of stupidity and vast stomach churning over consumption of Chinese made SHIT that will be out of date in four weeks time and food imported from all over the world and eating birds that quite a lot of people don't actually like the taste of, but eat anyway, because it's tradition.

Female genital mutilation is tradition in some parts of the world as is arranged marriage of underaged girls. But ya know, tradition is tradition. Don't spoil the magic.

I used to like December when I was younger. I didn't understand any more than the fact I would get fantastic presents and I would empty my bank account to give presents that although I put a lot of thought in to them, frankly, everyone I gave them to, could have bought them anyway, if they wanted to, but probably didn't want, so wouldn't have.
Now I understand a lot more about the silly season I choose not to be a part of it.

Unfortunately, it's forced upon us. I endured a works xmas lunch, an overpriced meal in an overpriced pub for an underwhelming meal surrounded by people, who on the whole, I'd rather not have spent time with, unpaid. I justified it only because it fell on the winter solstice day, which I do sort of celebrate because, obviously, the days starting to get longer again, is worth a drink at least.

What has all this got to do with Boogie Nights and boats? Near to fuck all, but I needed to get it off my chest.
24, 25, 26 December was spent alone, on the boat and in the club house sewing. I managed to put five new windows into two different motorboat canopies. Two new zips and some patch work.
My family are all abroad in the sun of Lanza-grotty.

remarkably peaceful, with every c*nt away eating fat bastard meals and sleeping like overfed walrus. Leaves the rest of the world free for the minority who aren't doing that.

Join the club

My canvas work has taken off far more than I could have imagined.
I'm getting more and more ambitious with each creation, initially trying to keep them small, the latest one is simply impossible to finish within Varekai. I managed to stitch the main seam down the middle amazingly inside the boat, but now to adjust the edges to curve and fit the customers boat and add the windows I really desperately needed a nice floor to lay it out on.
There was only one thing for it. I was proposed to join the North Fambridge yacht club.
The people there are friendly and not too stuffy like some yacht clubs I perceive to be and they are happy for me to use the floor of the club house. And the tables. And the electricity that is coin operated.
What a marvelous stroke of luck that they are so friendly and accommodating.
So the boom tent has almost done in the pic. Just needs a few fittings and then er, fitting.

Go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect £200

Standing there thinking, brrr, it's gone all cold. I realised the electricity had gone off. I poked my head out of the hatch and saw someone else looking around too. The lights along the pontoon are all off and the lights of the clubhouse have gone out too.
Faced with an uncertain amount of time without power and the threat of cold weather soon I took the risk of heading into the marina, at almost the bottom of the tide, in the dark.
I was lucky to have the help of the grumpy Frenchman who was visiting at the time. HE stood and guided me in the narrow dark channel to the marina.
Mooring up was fun. A lot of other boats had come into the marina for the winter and all the spaces I saw available just two days ago we re all gone.
Ticking over I eeked along closely to the boats as there wasnt a lot of water. Pulling level with a potential spot I eyed it up asked the grumpy crew member if it looked big enough to him, yes was the answer.
Ok, so er, I think I will just reverse in as there's not really room to swing round.
In the time it took reverse to engage I was practically resting alongside the moored boats, 90 degrees away from being in the right angle for reversing into the mooring.
What a tit.
SO crew jumped off to fend us off the other boats, but dropped the stern line in the process, meaning I couldnt use the engine until it was retrieved.
In the mean time, crew man is looking worried. I say, hey its no problem we arent hurting anything, just take your time, dont rush all with be fine, but then he says, yes, but have you seen that>>> points to the massive bow sprit of a boat just off my bow. SHIT! I dont want to hit that. it belongs to one of the guys who works in the marina.
a quick bit of reversing and rope throwing, somehow we manage to man handle Varekai into a tight mooring spot. just a foot to spare between me and the neighbours boat.

Still, its in and snugly tucked up and I think reversing in will be an advantage with the way the wind blows most of the time around here.

Changeable

The funny thing about this time of year is just how changeable the weather can be.
I awoke to this

but came home to this

and then spent the next hour re attaching, re roping and then fitting these

Bradwell and back

I've sailed pretty much no where at all this year. It's been a write off.
Nothing doing.
But then, as I'm recovering from illness, having been struck down for two days my local sailing instructor took pity on me and said we should get out and enjoy some sunshine.
SO we did.
Up to Bradwell Marina and back
we shook the sails out and enjoyed the sun and the happy breeze that blew us there and back. While we were out, we practiced heaving to, so that I can do stuff below when I'm sailing alone.

forced pontoonage

So, it was with a sad weary brow I arrived home with a sore throat late from work and decided I should probably move the boat closer to some mains power so that I can put some heating on. I feel an illness taking over me and while I'm still capable of standing up, I decided I should head for the pontoon.

The friendly local ex-fisherman hopped aboard my dinghy while I rowed out and offered to take a line for me. His wife waited on the pontoon for us, also ready to take my lines. I must have looked ill.

Fired up the Yanmar with a bit of a struggle. Since changing the diesel filter it has struggled to get started. I think there's a bit of a leak somewhere. I have no inclination to work out where or what or how at the moment.

Ten minutes later I was along side and the longer orange shore power lead that belongs to the fisherman was put to good use as mine was too short to reach the only available power socket.
Heater plugged in.
Now to bed. I'm ill.

Mines a pint of mild

Unbelievable, nay unthinkable that we would still be enjoyiing such warm weather for almost mid november.

Somehow, I'm still clinging on to my beloved mooring spot on the buoy in the river. A pontoon berth awaits me in the marina. But the only reason for that will be to plug in to the mains grid power to power my electric heater.

Life on the good ship Varekai is currently as good as it gets.
Im run ragged between the sewing work for peoples boat canopies, photography work popping up and of course my day job in the city.
To make ends meet, it's a case of having to work and then work some more.

Except MY work doesnt really feel like work. Sewing in the evenings, or as last nights job was eyeletting which involved a power drill and a hammer, its rather theraputic. I just feel like im doing something. Wriggling my fingers a bit.
Creating. Fabricating.
Just as when I spend two hours each day on the train im creating, wriggling my fingers and typing. Fabricating a novel. I do it anyway, paid for or not.

Exhaustion rarely hits me. Except for this week.

Sunday I drove to see a gig in chesterfield and then drove straight back, but as I didnt get back until 6am, it didnt leave much time for sleep.
Now ive more or less got used to 4 or 5 hours nightly, but 2 hours, thats hard. And just 5 hours in 3 days almost turned me most queer.
I wonder how much sleep a solo sailor gets daily? Since its something I plan to do, I wonder if im capable of the high level of sleep deprivation.

Catching up now, im feeling quite full of beans.

I might get a fair bit done tonight, there's a mandolin needs playing. Ive neglected it recently.

I love swinging but...

Attempting to swing on a buoy all year round would be a bit foolhardy.
But the rewards for staying out there in the river as much as possible are high.
The freedom to swing with the tide means I always know which way the water is going without consulting a tide table. The isolation is wonderful. No noisy pontoon creaking or footstep sounds as others walk up and down. No nosey neighbours peering through the windows and no need to get up and check ropes in the night if the wind picks up.
Getting to and from the boat is another matter, as is not having any form of heating.
The little yamaha engine that got a dunking a few weeks ago has ceased to work and is in need of some new parts that suffered the ravages of salt water. So rowing my little inflatable butter dish is quite some effort when the wind blows and impossible in a gale.
The temperature inside recently dipped to 5 degrees as the wind shifted to a northerly. Brrrr. Except my new heated blanket has been a marvelous revelation. I wish I'd bought it last year when the idea came to me.

So, as much as I want to stay out in the river on a buoy my choices for winter are forced a little to include finding an electrical point to power a heater.

In the spring of this year I provisionally booked in to Limehouse marina in london, thinking the 15 minute cycle to work would be great and the cost of the marina being very close to the cost of the train seemed like nothing to lose. Apart from my sanity that is.
After careful consideration, weighing up mooring in a sheltered, locked (as in lock of the watery kind) basin with a busy commercial river running for miles with no wildlife or views for hours of cruising and no friendly marina staff or other sailing friends, or, to pay a bit more and have access to a pontoon where I am in Essex on the crouch, where I have free parking, friendly people, a pub within staggering distance, views of the sunrise and sunset over wildlife reserves and, importantly, a river I can go sailing in practically any time I like. Give or take an hour or so either side of low tide to get out of the marina.
Limehouse would a convenient concrete prison that would pander only to my day job and in which I would merely exist.
Fambridge is a long journey to the day job, but, I feel alive there. The people, the wildlife and location, it's too much to give up.

Im saving up for diesel heating to make winter sailing a possibility.

A drip

I spy with my little eye, a drip or seepage, or something.
A dot of moisture caught my eye, so now I'm checking the ball valve join each time I use it. Which is several times a day. Not sure if its condensation in the cold or genuine seep.
Last year I noticed water in the bilge and it turned out to be a sweaty hull...
Still, I cant help feeling I may have to tighten it up. Out of the water.

Here's lookin' at you Mr. B. Valve.

Hurricaine Katia

When a hurricaine wanders off from the Atlantic and makes its way over, the resulting winds are great for drying clothes quickly.



the rain came and a rainbow spanned the river



then the sun set



and the tail winds of the hurricaine hit, and in the night the boat rocked, rolled and doors flew open and closed that I hadn't snecked back, my cutlery drawer flew out because I hadn't secured it and my dinghy...
Ah my poor dinghy, it took off in the wind, complete with Yamaha outboard and landed upside down.
I was not happy to be greeted with the bottom of an inflatable dinghy and a propellor waving at the sky.
Thankfully, its a simple engine with simple needs. It just needed a little love and it works again, as the video proves.

The power of wind

I had a Rutland 913 on last season.
It was good, it charged and kept my batteries ticking over. But it was not quite powerful enough to keep them tippety tip top when I charged some of my juicier bits of electrickery. Plus the Rutland was only on temporary loan.

So I upgraded to an Airbreeze.





and a new inverter was installed around the same time... as well as a shunt in preparation for a battery monitor.

sewing on board

I bought a new bad-ass sewing machine over the winter and I've been honing my domestic skills on the beast.

I grew up learning to sew with my grandmother, every week. It just seems to come naturally these days. I just enjoy sewing.

SO, a neighbour I had briefly while on hard standing commissioned me to make a few covers for their boat.

A ketch is a tricky bugger to make spray dodgers for. how many cut outs?
What fun it was.

Happy Birthday to me

June came along rather quickly and the bottom of Boogie Nights hasn't been wet since October last year.
How time flies when you own a boat, when you can't afford to wave the magic wand of wonga and get it all done by someone else.
I took a week off, my birthday as it happens was during the holiday, so time to sit back and enjoy the world go by.

As if!
time to get busy. First, strip the keel back of layers and layers of old antifoul.





then get the antifoul on, touch in a few marks on the rudder, borrow a polishing machine to cut back years of not being polished and then finish, two coats of waxing by hand. I am the karate kid. Wax on, Wax off. There are no bingo wings here.



Launch day, Friday. but no.

The wind was blowing, hard. The guys in the marina asked if I could wait a few days.
OK.
Two more days booked off work, and the crane finally came to hover over Varekai for lift off.

such was the shock of the boat being ready to go back into the water, a bird literally fell out of the sky and landed in the cockpit, thus:







and then, ever the professional photographer, my battery died in my camera just the moment before it went in the water.

total bloody amateur.

The rudder problem

The rudder took me by suprise.
I should know to always expect the unexpected, but I wasn't really expecting what I saw when I removed the rudder earlier this year.



clearly action was needed. I wrote to my friends at yachting monthly magazine to see if they knew anyone who would give me their opinion.
I wrote to the Dehler owners club too.
opinions varied from stripping back the entire rudder and replacing the stock, getting the stock turned down, replacing with new rudder, getting a new rudder made using the old one as a mold, put a stainless sleeve over the existing stock to replace the old sleeve and epoxy resin to fix the rudder blade.

The latter choice came first, since I have the best access anyone could have to a precision engineer. Enter, my dad once again to find a solution. He worked out the flex and strain capacity of the stainless sleeve, and although an expensive lump of metal and heavy, it works out to be stronger than the original stock, he machined a matching pair of bearings, upper and lower to resin into the boat and epoxy resined the rudder back to the shape it once was.



the result is a vision of beauty to my eyes. The machining was absolutely spot on, despite the bearing being sent in advance and the sleeve being machined afterwards.

Once the rudder was slid back in place, with the bottom bearing epoxied into the rudder sleeve build into the hull, the top bearing screwed in place in the top bar in the cockpit, the rudder turned smoothly and swung easily.