Winter mooring

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 first 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.

Limehouse Basin in London - locked in but close to work. 

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.

North Fambridge Yacht Haven in Essex - freedom to breath

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.
I'm saving up for diesel heating to make winter sailing a possibility.

North Fambridge Yacht Haven in Essex - little bit chilly in winter 

North Fambridge Yacht Haven in Essex - little bit chilly in winter

North Fambridge Yacht Haven in Essex - freedom to breath in a beautiful peaceful place.

Storm? Piece of cake.

When I heard a decent storm was heading my way I checked all the lines, added a couple more springs and went shopping for extra provisions.
If I'm going to be kept awake all night with crashing, banging and Armageddon going on outside, then I should make best use of this extra awake time.

I ask myself, what would Thora Hird do?

Bake a cake surely?

Right on! Bake a bad ass fucking cake! What could possibly go wrong? I mean, I can do cakes right? I can certainly eat them well enough. But it's in the region of 20-25 years since I last baked one.
I've got an oven (no temperature gauge or control). I've got some gas in the bottle. I've got all the tools and ingredients... It's just logical following the instructions right?
My sister in law bought me the scales ages ago. So far they've mostly been used to work out postage fees for eBay!


The cake mix waiting in the tin as the oven warms up to whatever temperature that may be.


And then the white chocolate and cream topping caused a bit of a mess. It's not cold enough outside to set it properly, the fridge is switched off, so twas still a bit runny.

But.. the proof was in the tasting the next morning for breakfast.


And while the cake was basking in the glow of my expensively bottled Butane and rising in the oven I did flash card practice. As you do on a Saturday night in a force 10.

Night time revision in the dark.

As part of my on going training and preparation for passing my yacht master practical... which will carry me through to instructor and commercial endorsement which eventually will lead on to greater things...and assist me in my comedy turn around Britain in 2013, I have flash cards showing day marks, buoyage and light patterns.
I have incentivised the whole process by allowing myself a sip of wine for each one I get right.
Now the first pack of day mark cards was a breeze....
But the night lights are becoming increasingly blurry.
Obviously this adds to the realism because when one is out in the lashing rain, trying to focus on distant light patterns its quite difficult.
In addition, my domestic batteries are flatter than a witches tits right now. (Due to ageing batteries and no wind power for a few days) So I am sitting in the dark with only head torch for light source.
All I need now is to lean the boat over somehow and get someone to chuck buckets of cold salt water in my face to complete the training effect.

Electrickery

This time last year I was still hanging on the buoy. It was mild weather and I didn't need a heater.
This year the winter has come a bit earlier and I've swung over to the visitor pontoon to allow me to plug into the shore power so I can put a heater on. Yes, (sigh) I have not fitted a diesel heater yet.
So I show the dog the rabbit, and plug the cable in. But. The moment I turn the shore power on in the boat it trips out the whole pontoon power box.
Bugger
It's an old patched cable. It must be that.
Nope.still tripping out the box. new cable is lovely though.

It's a dodgy plug socket. It was getting warm last winter. I'll just replace that.

Nope. Not that either.
Still tripping the box out.
Fault finding will be turned up a notch in daylight.
Could be new battery charger time...
In the mean time I'm running the cable through a hatch and directly to my heater.
The wind generator is keeping the batteries topped up.
Except there's no wind...

Mental Block

Since the Breskens trip I've been meaning to fix another item that broke. Strictly speaking it was already broken, but I just broke it more. To the point where it is actually finally broken beyond cobbling along.

The trip to scoff a waffle cost me a new reef line (fitted in Breskens) and a main sheet block.

The block system on the main sheet on a Dehler 36 comprises of four large Lewmar blocks.
The originals it seems, have lasted well, but now, rapidly, like a set of lightbulbs all fitted to a new house, they are all popping off in short succession.

I scoured the internet for the modern equivalent.
the all new and improved Lewmar blocks (62 squids each) now have ball bearings and spin almost like silk.
The delight of spinning the new blocks brought me over most queer like, with a hot flush of anticipation. The thought of less friction is almost orgasmic.
I procurred two new blocks.

But the upstander part which is absolutely fine and still works ok has a different sized receptacle.

So the new blocks went on the upper part of the mainsheet rig while I reconsulted the internet.

.....

I visited a different chandler to usual and had to do the obligatory wander around browsing, like you do, it's the law. And there, in a dusty corner (aren't all chandlers corners dusty?) sat two Harken blocks, with exactly the right sized thingy, to fit in the wotsit. I didnt need to measure, I could just tell.
62 squids each these were too...

.... arrive back at Varekai with the look of an excited parent about to reveal a lovely present to their beloved child...

FITS LIKE A GLOVE

The main sheet is so friction free now it's like mainsheet porn. Honestly. You can't help but want to handle the line and just feel it slipping smoothly through the new set of four blocks.
I could just sit in the cockpit and play with the main sheet while moored. I dont need to go sailing anymore for my filthy fix of sailing excitement. Come and handle this!

arf arf arf.

Blue days

Those who know me, know that I rarely have blue days. but sometimes, a blue day comes to me. And its quite beautiful.

I woke to crashing and banging and the sensation of being on a fair ground ride with the boat slewing around the mooring buoy. A squall was over head. The rigging of all the boats around me squealing.
A magnificent way to start the day. If perhaps a little earlier than planned.

Jayne: a tiny teeny bit worried about rowing ashore and keeping her dapper look, dapper.
Dog: not impressed.

easterly beasterly

some times it blows from the east

A room with a view

So many people ask me how I deal with sleeping in a room without windows.
How do I wake up?

Well, that's easy. There is a window. It faces upwards, and it opens big enough to climb in and out of should I so wish.

When I open my eyes in a morning, seeing a blue sky like that, it just makes the day that little bit better.

Waffle ever next?

Previously we've sailed 15 hours to Dunkirk for a French Crêpe (the Crepe escape) This year we headed off on a 32 hour (each way) mission to find a Dutch waffle.

Leaving the Crouch

Just getting past Burnham is a feat in itself. Each time I have headed up there, something on the boat breaks and forces me back to camp.

But, at least I earned my t-shirt and got as far as the windfarm.

Des, my insanely annoying but unflappable mate and sailing instructor, looked a bit like this...

accurate image and effigy of Des created with Haribo Starmix

He was nursing a sore head after a night out with friends. So he was quieter than usual, which was a blessed relief. Not too many of his rubbish jokes.

"I see no ships... Only hardships..."  shut up Des

Calm conditions. Perfect weather really for a little trip across to Holland.

Hello Breskens.  

After a quick run over to the chandlery to find some new rope, to replace a snapped reef line we nipped out for the prize.

1st PRIZE Waffle. Every bit and better than I had hoped. Washed down with a nice cold bonus beer.

And then to quickly re-provision with a bits from the supermarket... those crazy Dutch know how to eat well don't they.

cock's fresh indeed. 

During the trip Des gave various bits of instruction, with the aim for me to sail effectively Solo but with help on hand if needed.
He suggested I add extra sheets to the self tacking jib to make it set better to windward. So I went forward and fiddled about adding lines.

clipped on and moving around foredeck is actually quite strenuous activity even in benign conditions. 

high levels of concentration require powernaps to maintain. Ok, I know I was supposed to be soloing but He insisted I let him have a few minutes alone outside. (this would be known as the cigarette break -  I don't allow smoking onboard, but if I'm sleeping he thinks he can get away with it)

powernap - 15 minutes

but most of the time I was like this.

Des seems to have lost his washboard.

snake pit

The windfarms in the night. Menacing. Enticing. Mesmerising.

As part of an experiment we looked at what would happen if I just went to sleep and set the autopilot for two hours. (I get asked this question a fair amount, what do you do at night, do you set the autopilot and just go to bed?)
Of course Des was keeping watch to ensure general safety and COLREGS compliancy, but was instructed not to touch anything unless we needed to avoid anything hazardous.
Just before I went for my sleep we tacked. I went and slept, or tried to sleep in the saloon.

As I mustered for action two hours later, checking the plotter it was plain to see that we were back almost exactly where we were when I went for my sleep.  We had just moved back in the direction we came from. Meaning a 4 hour addition to the journey.

a spike in the performance

There's no time for complacency or sleeping across the Channel or North Sea. The track shows the route (before my phone died). The windfarm was just off to starboard the whole time. We  skirted past it by just a few meters (50m or so). I could hear the blades turning or the whoosh sound of the air in the dark.

wind turbines in the dark

North Sea, means lots of shipping traffic. 

Hello Crouch.

The prevailing wind... that f*cking b*stard Westerly wind that always gets me on the way home. I have renamed it the Basterly wind. 
Just when you think you're winning having tacked 100 times into the entrance of the Crouch and think...

"yes! We're onto a long reach now... come on... yes, yes... NO! Damn you basterly bugger". 

it was raining UPWARDS

Facing three more hours of relentless tacking, with those extra sheets I added to the jib meaning having to winch the jib every. single. bloody. time

... or...

Put the engine on. I admit it. I gave up near the river roach and engined back. Shame on me.
It was a good waffle though.

the yachting monthly triangle race

 When I was asked if I would like to cover the 2012 Triangle race,

I practically snatched the editors hand off. I had read about the race previously and it had built a reputation for being a very sociable race.

On arrival in Torquay, a cacophony of halyards clanging and rigging howling provided a noisy welcome.

Gazing around, amid flapping battle flags I found my ride for the next two weeks, a 10 meter Dazcat, owned and skippered by James Jermain. Ineligible for the monohull only race, but a perfect platform to perform media duties from with its huge rear deck space and potential speed to keep up with even the fastest in the race fleet.

 

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Leg 1

Destination Kinsale

17 June 2012, Sunday 0900

arrival Kinsale
19 June 2012 tuesday morning with a serious problem with electrics on Bella Donna. not sure if we can continue...

 

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Leg 2

Destination Treguier

22 June 2012, Friday 1030

fast, furious, the best fun ive ever had in my foul weather gear. Smiles from ear to ear pretty much all the way. and a stifled hysterical laugh as my skipper got washed across the deck with a breaking wave.  He loved it too... even if he didnt say so at the time. 

Leg 3

Destination Torquay

27 June 2012, Wednesday 1300

on leg three we had the committee to carry back to the start, so we didnt get a chance to sail with the fleet who vanished off into a gloomy over cast and later foggy day. but, we did carry home one of the crews whose boat had a rudder failure.  so the extra company was very welcome for the short leg back to torquay. and I found my own amusement by playing with my food.

you can read the full story in the September 2012 issue of Yachting Monthly magazine.  

a bit of fluff

Forgive me Boogie Nights for I have been unfaithful.
A twin hulled mini minx caught my eye for a couple of weeks, but I am back... I promise I wont stray again (for a while)

But I have been spoilt and now I expect speeds in excess of 10 knots all the time.

Thanks to Mark Ramsden of Grafika-uk.com for sending me this picture of me taking a picture of him taking a picture of me....