This game is rigged

You know those straightforward jobs you see other people doing and plan to do yourself?
Those little things, such as unstepping a mast to replace the standing rigging (the metal cables that hold the mast up to non-yotties) and then put it straight back again and go sailing?

Well, that's exactly what I planned just over a year ago.

According to insurance companies when rigging passes its 10th birthday, it is no longer fit for insuring. It ceases to be. It is no more. It suddenly turns to marshmallow and is instantly vaporised by a mere sneeze.
Despite looking to be perfectly healthy, it was finally time to swap out the metal cables for new ones.
Fucking insurance, they're riding the pockets of the riggers, no?

£1600 for a new set of standing rigging. Great. Where's my credit card.

I had the mast unstepped for the first time and carefully tagged all the cables, coiled them up, put them in the Clio of doom and headed to the Plymouth based rigging company, where they made me a new set while I waited.

Casually, the director of the rigging company asked me to remove the spreader brackets when I got home, "give them a bit of a clean" he said, "tell me what it looks like" he said, "then put them back with loads of sealant" he continued.

I felt sweaty palmed about this request. What did he know that I didn't? I mean, I'd never heard of a Dehler mast failing. This is German manufacturing. They're supposed to be pretty fucking marvellous aren't they?
Not a mention of any mast worries on my insane 50 page survey that went into minute detail about a corroded tab on a bus-board and slight crazing of a window. You'd think that mad surveyor might have mentioned something, right?

It took a week before I had the courage to drill out the rivets and unbolt the spreader brackets from the mast.

This is what I saw.

A mocking smiley face.

With each mocking face, another few thousand of my redundancy payout kerchinged its way past my bleary vision.

This wasn't what I had hoped to see.

What had happened was, when Dehler assembled the mast in 1989, they hadn't sealed the stainless steel brackets from the alumium mast. Over the years, salt water had seeped into a hollow area between the bracket and the mast and effectively became an electrolite. The two metals are of different nobility, the aluminum turned to salts and eventually the area thinned significantly, causing a hole to appear and weakening the area generally. The spreaders can really load up the mast in these areas when sailing in strong winds. What potentially could happen is that the mast could fail at any one of these thinned areas. If the mast failed, it could cause serious injury. It could kill a crew member or hole the boat as it comes down. You know a big enough hole to sink us. This kind of thing is never taken lightly.

Without hesitation, I called the man in Plymouth. At the same time Dave Nicholls, my friendly local Essex based rigger had a look and also spoke to the other rigging company on my behalf.
Was it repairable? If so, how much?

The answer was yes. But it would be costly. A rough estimate of around £3000 was quoted to sleeve the mast at both spreader sections. Internal sleeving was deemed not possible.
£5000 was quoted for a new mast.

I called my insurance company. Surely they might help. Afterall, that's what insurance is for, right?

Wrong.

It would seem that had I left the spreaders alone, never inspected under them, allowed it to fail, then the insurance would have paid up.
However, since I had found the problem (a manufacturing defect that I couldn't have known about in advance or prevented) and avoided possible crew death or boat sinking issues, the costs of this are entirely my own.

Thanks Velos Insurance, thanks for nothing. Shysters.

I decided to go for a new mast, as I didn't want to devalue the boat by having a sleeved mast.
While I was going for a new mast, I had to get a new boom to match. And while we were adding a new boom, then we needed a new vang. (we meaning my husband Dehler, the sidekick furry beast Banjo and I of course)
And since we were having a mast made from scratch, then I could specify just what I wanted from the outset.

• Inner forestay - check
• extra trisail track - check
• double jib halyard - check
• double main halyard -  check

---

It's a bit like having a partner and you don't like his appendage anymore. 

"Yes, I'd like a new one please, can it be a bit deeper section, same length, yes I'm happy with the length, but can you make it a bit more useful, you know, can it do a few more party tricks?  Oh and make it shiny too. I'd like to be able to polish it as well as climb it."

---

nearly two months after the promised delivery date, at the very end of July my new mast finally turned up.

I had planned to be over half way around Britain by then and I still had to get new sails made.
The Funny Way Round project clearly wasn't going to happen in 2013.

---

The breakdown of what re-rigging costs, for those curious:

• Single Clutch £49.92 plus vat
• 6 x blocks £123.24 plus vat
• Mast base £183.74 plus vat
• Delivery £15 plus vat
• Dehler 36 CWS Mast £4,053.73 plus vat
• Selden B152 Boom £1,097.89 plus vat
• Rope-3rd Reef/Luff lines £58.68 plus vat
• Short spini track/plunger £214 plus vat
• Fit owner supplied Inner forestay £76 plus vat
• Winch Pad 110x110/5deg £52.74 plus vat
• Cleats on mast x 4 £76 plus vat
• Clutch XAS-Genoa halyard x 2 £99.84 plus vat
• Steaming light cable only £30 plus vat
• Deck light cable only £30 plus vat
• Rod Kicker/10S/HD Spring £348.34 plus vat
• Tri-sail track £318.95 plus vat
• Carriage of Tube/Plymouth £240 plus vat
• Carriage of Mast/Essex £400 plus vat
• Block PBB50 Fiddle/Becket £44.45 plus vat
• Block PBB50 Fiddle £25.10 plus vat
• Rope B/B 8mm White £7.44 plus vat
• Splice BOB £10 plus vat
• Walder boom slide £30.65 plus vat
• Halyard - Main/D2  £207 plus vat
• Halyard - Genoa/CS £142.71 plus vat
• Halyard - Genoa/MB £85.50 plus vat
• Halyard - Spinnaker/BOB £78.38 plus vat
• Boom Lift/BOB £40.42 plus vat
• Toggle for bottom of Forestay £43.75 plus vat
• Screw Luff 6x17.5 FLX200 £5.60 plus vat
• Labour/FOC as above £0
• Sheave Box Al-70/RivetFix £32.38 plus vat
• Inner Forestay Fittings Strip/overhaul furlerdrum £40.41 plus vat
• Block, BBB30 SGLE, Swivel £29.36 plus vat
• M6 Fastenings for winch £5.20 plus vat
• Lewmar winch for mast £220
• echomax active radar reflector £380
• radio aerial £donated
• tacktick wireless wind speed £800
• deck flood light £70
• friendly local rigger labour time £900
• replacement standing rigging £1600 

                               Totals: £13,925

  ------

 ...You'd think this should be the end, but it isn't...

Between a wok and hard place

There comes a time in every culinary challenged persons life when they buy a wok.

That moment arrived for me when I was 23 years old and my mother bought me the best wok in the shop. Behold, the Typhoon. A 35cm double handled traditional steel wok.

It saw 2 and 3 times weekly action, sometimes more.
It was the stepping stone I needed to discover "the stir fry" method from which countless incarnations of Indian,  Thai, Chinese and Mexican dishes have borne forth. It's perhaps the easiest quickest way to knock up a meal for one or a house full of friends. And on a boat,  this single item of galley paraphernalia is a vital component to crew happiness.

But,  14 years on and after 4 years of living in a cupboard, frequently awash with water,  the typhoon is looking very sorry for itself.
Neglected due to its insane size,  brought out on fewer and fewer occasions,  the wok that uses an entire 3 burner optimus stove top has reached the end of its useful life.
It spans the entire surface of the gimballed cooker and is impossible to stow anywhere practical. I've put off replacing it because it holds so many memories of evenings with friends.  And it was a present from my mum (one of the best ever,  but she would never know it as she's never actually been here long enough for me to cook a meal)

So say hello to the newest, neatest,  smaller but hopefully high performing kitchen beast. The Prestige.
A stainless steel,  shiny thing that I hope will last as long as the Typhoon. And I hope will be the centre of the table for many more friendship gatherings to come.

It's these small things that take life on board a boat from bearable to wonderful.

Got a stiffy?

I was out having a nice little sail the other day with my co skipper Hazel when the steering went alarmingly stiff.

I had ignored the warning signs for the past two years by pretending it was in fact me, that was getting weaker, and not the reality of the boat getting stiffer.

So after a quick lap of the Isle of Wight, a fight with a wheel and the executive decision that it was impossible to complete the extra few miles required for the purpose of the trip in the first place (qualification, read on for explanation) I realised it was time to head back to the marina and consult my naval about what to do next.

I had hoped it would be a quick and easy to fix universal joint, or something that wouldn't require the boat to come out of the water.
All hopes faded as the steering was disconnected from the rudder and and the wheel spun freely.

So we went to the pub to ruminate. I had scampi.

A call to the local provider of lifting-outery and I was quoted 250 for a lift and hold for one hour and an extra 200 for each hour extra.
I then called the emergency dad-line. You know the one that begins with the number Daaaaaaad, in a slightly raising tone asking a pertinent question resulting in a potentially time consuming and expensive trip south from Derbyshire.

Time is of the essence you see. Both Hazel and I need to qualify for this thing called the Yachting Monthly Triangle Race and we are running out of weekends in which to complete our 125 mile passage.

So, my genius dad came up with a plan and a tool to skim out the bottom rudder bearing which had expanded gradually since it was fitted a while ago, see my previous blog entry about that…

I will add a diagram of the tool set up  shortly.

but first, here is the boat out of the water, ready for rudder bearing fettling.

The long and the short is, the tool worked like a dream and the steering is now back to finger tip control and no longer a white knuckle bear wrestle.
The auto pilot is sighing with relief.

One year later

One year has passed since I last wrote anything at all on here about anything at all.

One year has passed since I was made redundant (voluntarily) from IPC Media with just five days notice.

It was a fairly difficult time.

Just as my near 13 year run at IPC Media came to a close (not long after my heart said goodbye to two people  Mr X and Lady Grace and even less time since I attended the funeral of a dear Aunt),  I found out that the boat needed a new mast.

This was the start of what turned out to be one of those horrible anus's the Queen talked about one time in her annual speech.

What should have been a quick lift out, a bit of a fettle and back in again turned into nine months of labour and twelve months before the boat would sail again.
Twelve months of extreme expense culminating in

• An entire new rig (read about that here)
• A broken heart (twice)
• Almost bankruptcy
• Landing a fantastic job on the south coast.
• A surprise visit from Mr X
• Leaving friends behind in Essex and relocating 150 miles away
• My car being cloned and having to prove my innocence
• Being taken to court by a patronising jumped up solicitor

It's rather difficult to know where to start with that lot.

One thing I've learnt in 2012-2013 is that there are a lot of cunts about who don't give a shit about any other cunt except for looking after numero-uno-cunt.

I suppose I should start at the beginning, when the trouble kicked off.
Are you sitting comfortably?

"It was 2012, the Olympics were over, the embers of the paralympics were just simmering to  a close.
And there it was. In all it's glory. My nemesis. A person to whom I remotely answered, bold as brass knobs on a spindleback chair, uttered the statement. (not for the first time I should add)
"we can't put those on the front cover, they're unsightly"
To what was being referred? The paralympians of course. Multiple gold medal winning paralympians. The same paralympians that had just hours ago made grown men weep at the arena side. The same paralympians that had momentarily united a nation in support for all people, of all abilities.

Such prejudice has no place in modern journalism.
It's hard to know what to do in such circumstances. You're damned if you do, damned if you don't.
So I made a statement. It caused a stir. My card was marked. And that, one moment in my unblemished history of working for IPC Media, was the beginning of the end of a long chapter in my life. 

May 1st 2013, a new chapter begins."

A long time coming

Yeah.  That's right.  It's been a bloody long time since the last blog post. It's been winter.

But now it's spring I can come out of hibernation and let the world know about the latest  shenanigans on board The Boat as well as planned bullshittery for 2013.
There's a lot going on.

The Boat is coming out of the water for spring maintenance.  I much prefer working in the warm.

On the list:

• Drop the rudder and check the repairs are still good.
• Check the prop.  It's rattly. 
• Drop the mast and replace the rigging.
• Put in new halyards.
• Chuck some new antifoul on.
• Give it a spruce bruce with a polisher and then. 
• Add the new logos.
• New logos?

Yes we will have a new boat name. Stuff will be happening towards the big project too...

The solo, nonstop chuckle around Britain. 

It's a monster project, it'll take a while to organise, but at some point this decade there will be a voyage of hysterical proportions. 

facebook.com/funnywayround

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.