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.

Gimballed Guinness Cake

Yachting Monthly Triangle Race: Leg 2 - Kinsale to Treguier

Jayne has issues with velcro

Hi there, Beach Barbie, figure head of Boogie Nights, reporting in from Treguier.

The two skippers are off enjoying themselves ashore so it falls to me again to bring you the 2nd leg report.

So before I get ahead of myself, the intrepid duo had a lovely little stop over in Kinsale.

On arrival, still salty faced and weary from our long passage they abandoned me with nary a thanks for my safe guidance and both hopped aboard a Sweden 42, where arrival drinks were drunk alongside fellow competitors into the night, the last few boats arrived, the sky started to turn from black to blue again and then they came home to their bunks.  The last dog watch was complete for a few days.

Returning the next morning, squeaky clean and fragrant from Kinsale yacht clubs facilities the two skippers reminded me why it’s good to be a non-sweating plastic doll.

I had suspected for a day or so that they had snagged the rotting carcase of some sort of marine mammal, turns out, you can get quite smelly, quite quickly, on a hot sailing passage. Who knew? Not I. I was quite worried.

During the stop over two jobs needed tackling, the VHF radio signal, or lack of, and the errant sail batten that was coiled up around Jaynes bunk, she slept with it for one night coiled like a spring over her head. 

It wouldn’t take long before it “would have someones eye out” she said, 

it wouldn’t be me of course, mine are painted on.

Hazel used the Electric power winch to propel Jayne toward the top of the big stick to check the aerial connection and whilst there took a good look around.

She could see the pub from there. 

A fellow competitor jumped onboard Boogie Nights with his multimeter, they worked out it was the plug end at the bottom of the mast that needed re-soldering.

Gas soldering iron on the job (the gift that keeps on giving thanks to Jaynes Dad) and Boogie Nights was transmitting Radio 4 levels of posh voice effects once again. Jayne has a fabulously posh radio voice that completely belies her northern potty-mouthed roughness.

Next task was the batten. The long flat fibreglass batten (that helps to give the main sail its beautiful wing shape) that had popped out of its sleeve at the start of leg 1.

As I’m perpetually facing forward, I’ve never actually seen the so called “main sail”

I have seen its shadow on the water though during certain times of the day and I’d say it looks more like a giant sun dial. I can tell the time by its shadow position on the water. I'm like the Crocodile Dundee of figure heads. #beargryllsbarbie

What was needed was a stitch, or three, in the end of the batten pocket. Hazel was very pragmatic about it. But Jayne, easily upset at the thought of having to put holes in her brand new main sail had to face facts that this was the only thing that was going to stop Boogie Nights spearing any closely following yachts with its lethal high powered sail javelin. And of course ideally it should be in the sail where it helps it to hold its shape and makes us go faster.

Yoda reports to me that he felt a shift in the force around the same time Jayne put the first stitch in. We’re a little worried about her. The dark force is strong with that one. Don't let the pink fool you.

 

Jayne has a sudden encounter with velcro

 And so to the leg 2, Kinsale to Treguier race start, I was soooo excited. I was like, totally yay about the fact we have some wind forecast. It meant I wouldn’t have to put up with their constant jabbering behind me. They might have to concentrate for a little while.

Jockeying around for the race start count down Jayne whinged that Hazel was tacking a lot and it was making her tired before they had even started.

For those non sailors reading this, this means Hazel gets to play with the big round thing that makes the boat turn left and right and Jayne has to pull lots of ropes and turn lots of clicky winch handle things. Every time Hazel turns Boogie Nights this way or that, Jayne has to do a lot of rope pulling and tensioning and re-tensioning then coiling to avoid them turning into a birds nest and then she has to do it all over again. Yoda sees all from his aft facing view, strapped to the mast support.

Jayne swore that she’d get Hazel back by swapping roles next time, and Jayne would tack and gybe twice as much as needed.

When I heard my two skippers discussing “really going for it” I wasn’t sure what to expect. 

heading out from Kinsale to race start

 

Mid fleet in the procession out to the starting mark

Juliette, a J105, heading out for the race start

Hazel, bang on the money for the start

Big Doris, A Dehler 39 is miffed that we got the jump on him.

Goodbye beautiful lush green Ireland. Thankyou Niall Power and his son for making it down to Kinsale to see us off. It was very much appreciated.

Free Spirit, a Sweden 42, the source of several welcome drinks in Kinsale. Two wonderfully hospitable Northern Chaps, Rob and Mike.

Hazel is tiny but mighty. This is Yodas view of all proceedings.

Oh. My. Gosh.

They were off the line like a greased racing snake. If there was an energy drink called “well oiled stunt monkey” it would be sponsoring this boat at that time.

I couldn’t see anyone ahead of us at all. And then we were leaning. A lot. And the waves came. Kind of long rolling ones that had gotten all big from being blown all the way across the north Atlantic toward Ireland

I was like, “whoa. I’m getting it right in the face here guys!”

And they were like, whatever.

And I was like, “Hey would you mind, it was fun at first, but c’mon, I can’t breath now. I’m spending more time under the water than over it.”

And they just didn’t care. I could cry if I had tear ducts. 

It did not stop.  For Hours. And Hours.

And then I was like “our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…. “

I honestly thought I was going to lose an arm or something. And my hair, I can’t even imagine what my hair must look like.  

The evil, Barbie bashing pair had agreed on taking one hour turns on helm, while the other snoozed nearby. They hand steered through the first night and into the next day.
Food this time took on a very minimalist approach as I heard the Stowaways emergency gourmet food being served. Jayne managed to balance a pan on the hob long enough to warm up a Coq au van and a Venison Caserole. Hazel once again congratulated Jayne on her ability to warm something up.

Deydreamer, which is another Dehler 36 like Boogie Nights was hot on our tail for a day before eventually passing us. There was very little either Hazel or Jayne could do about it, but it did make them more determined.
Hazel had very cunningly provisioned with pork chops in honey and mustard and a fabulous potato gratin from Kinsale. Once this rocket fuel had been expertly warmed up in the oven by Jayne and both had congratulated each other on ones ability to provision well and the others ability to stand up down below on ridiculous angles of heal and warm something up, I felt the boat start to accelerate. When Jayne asked Hazel if she could put music on, we seemed to go even faster and straighter.

Hazels bowl is always spotlessly clean when she's finished

Whilst Jayne was on a roll down below, she also decided to bake a cake. 

The chocolate and Guiness cake came out well, but has a slight gimballed effect to one side.

During the second evening Jayne was in her element, tweaking and re-tweaking the sails and lines, willing the boat along faster, eeking every last nth degree out of Boogie Nights as ordered by Hazel 

“make us go faster, we HAVE to catch them”

Jayne sat for hour after hour transfixed by the speed readout and GPS position. 
Watching the ais reported boat speeds of those ahead, 5.5kts, we maintained 6.5kts in an attempt to reach them before the finish line some 80 nautical miles away.

Hazel came up for a watch change and suggested Jayne look behind for a moment.

And then the night sky arrived bringing the milky way with it. Phosphorescence glittered out of the bow wave and trailed like little sparkles as Boogie Nights cut through the water.

Out of the darkness to our port side, a strange red object started to appear, sailing up over the horizon was a scarlet crescent, resembling the devils spinnaker bearing down on us. 

The moon rose and lit the way to France as Brittany lights started to appear to the south.

After hauling back most of the difference on the other Dehler, they were in sight of the finish line but it was too late to change any racing results. Another 6^th place for Boogie Nights. 
Considering that Boogie Nights is the only boat in the entire fleet where someone actually lives on board, this is no mean feat to even be vaguely competitive. Boogie  Nights is also the only boat in the fleet with a figure head. I was looking forward to meeting some of my cloned sisters, likewise cable tied to other boats, but it seems I am alone. This makes me sad. It's a dying art this figure head business.

Using my dolphinase skills, I summoned a special guide to show the Boogie Nights team the way in through the rocks.

Davide, or Dave, the Dolphin shows us the way in.

That’s all for now folks, one more leg to go, but before then, it’s time for a drink in the bar for my skippers. While they’re gone, I’m cleaning out the cake pan. 

Do I have something in my teeth?
Someone's got to clean the bowl right?

xxx Beach Barbie signing out

Becalmed Barbie

Yachting Monthly Triangle Race: Leg 1 - Torquay to Kinsale

Hi chaps, its Boogie Nights figure head, Beach Barbie  reporting live from Kinsale

check out my Selfie

My two skippers Jayne and Hazel are busying themselves, Hazel in the bar socialising and Jayne catching up on university marking paperwork, so it falls to me to bring the first leg report.

After a whirlwind of activity prior to race start I was wondering if this boat would ever be ready to race, but we slipped our lines from Torquay at a few minutes after 11am on Sunday 15^th June after one last nervous “proper” toilet stop for my skippers.

I wasn’t nervous at all, because I’m a plastic doll and I’m cable tied to the bow, I’ve little choice over the matter. If anyone decides to find themselves side on to Boogie Nights bow, then they have me to deal with first. And everyone knows that even in a nuclear holocaust, the plastic doll is the only thing left behind. #justsayin

Anyhoo, my invincibility aside, the ladies did their best on the line to get a good start. 

more pics of the start can be seen here, courtesy of Helen Robson , race start pics

Then shortly after the 1200 race start, potty mouthed Jayne spotted, and cursed in rapid succession at the freshly installed new  2^nd batten now sticking out of the main sail (again). To avoid losing yet another sail javelin, the main was quickly partially lowered and the batten taken out before it was lost. Jayne was then cursing for not checking the Velcro, which is suspected to be at fault. The batten is now neatly coiled in the focsle. Hazel doesn’t curse. I like Hazel.

With the main quickly re-hoisted Boogie Nights tramped along at a blistering pace of 3 knots.

Yes, light wind conditions, which is good for my hair, I get a gosh darn battering when it’s windy so I don’t mind the odd bit of calm. The two skippers worked the sails hard and hand steered to maximise any gains to be had. 

Dolphins were a very welcome passage bonus, during light winds they just circled and played around the boat for at least a half hour. Jayne thinks she can talk dolphin and that’s what made them come, but actually it was me, I’m the one who speaks Dolphinase. They mentioned something about a potty mouthed human clicking dolphin swear words. I shan’t repeat what it was. 

check me out, prime dolphin waving spot

Photography by Hazel Arnold

Hazel had spent the last days before the race start, preparing food and freezing it. The first nights culinary delight was Chicken Tagine with couscous. Jayne, acting as sous chef did a marvellous job of warming it up. So she says.

Day passed to night and a 3 on 3 off watch kicked in, Hazel opting for 2100-0000 and Jayne 0000-0300. It was around 0200, during a brilliantly moonlit night when despite all efforts to keep the boat moving it just sat there, doing 0 knots, bobbing and sails flopping around, while a boat ghosted up in the dark from behind and cruised past. The fleet edged away as Boogie Nights floundered around and Jayne cursed (she is such a potty mouthed scamp, I should teach her the art of how to speak without using expletives, I’m a childs doll, I’m highly qualified in this field) having tried everything bar paddling to get the bus moving again. 

Hazel relaxed on helm at race start, Hazel is raising money for Kent Surrey and Sussex air ambulance.
raising money for Kent, Surrey and Sussex air ambulance

As morning arrived so did the first opportunity to fly the red white and blue.

After considerable time and effort setting up, the pretty colours finally flew, with just enough wind to drag the boat along. I like the big colourful sail, it’s the only one I actually get to look at being the mast head and all. I sometimes get to touch it. Jayne isn’t keen on me touching it. Jayne is a spoil sport. 

Jayne chops mushrooms wearing her desert scarf.

The speed picked up, we were gunning along, with a slingshot on the eddies around Lizard point we picked up speed (Jayne, intent on making up for previous nights failings in light airs, squeaked like an old chevvy in a drive in movie when the 10knot mark over ground was cracked -  she was on helm at the time while Hazel caught up on sleep after a monster 6 hour watch) and were reeling the fleet back in. I could see them getting closer and closer, then boom.

We were becalmed again and left drifting for hours. And hours.

Lands End felt like worlds end, it was there, just over there. But seemingly never getting closer or  looking like we might round it. And of course the fleet ahead of us vanished over the horizon.

Then the evening breeze picked up after what I can only assume was a delicious rose veal with port and stilton. The chef and sous chef seemed contented, each congratulating the other for their ability to either cook, or to warm stuff up.

And off we went under white sails. A steady breeze took us round the corner, across the shipping lane and into the Irish sea.

The steady breeze of between 12 and 15knots meant Boogie Nights grooved it’s way into the Irish sea and North Atlantic at a very satisfying 7.8knot average speed.

You may wonder how I know all of these technical details, being a plastic American doll shaped figure head, well, some things are best left to the imagination, but Boogie Nights is equipped with a master Jedi  (aft facing) who is able to relay all of these things to me. I can’t tell you how.

So, anyway, Jayne, being the twitchy, easily distracted wheel shy type actually opted to helm, manually.  Hazel took the opportunity to get some rest after a long spell of helming and Jayne being competitive was determined to win the fastest boat-speed-on-helm mini competition.

With constant tweaking and adjusting we managed to squeeze an 8.6knot maximum boat through the water speed out of a less than perfect point of sail.

Watching the miles tick off rapidly, Kinsale looked like it would be hosting two more in the bar by 8pm.

But then, yes, you guessed it. The wind turned to willow the whisp again. Leaving Boogie Nights and its crew almost hallucinating with tedium. They radioed to Scaramouch to ask if they could do the fandango, Hazel jogged on the spot for a while and Jayne fruitlessly scoured the horizon for signs of anyone out there.

The emerald Isle looking inviting

They crossed the finish mark at 2314 on 17 June after just over 59 hours and 280 nautical miles at sea, making them 6/7 in class 2.

Boogie Nights track from Torquay to Kinsale

I’m hoping for a faster passage to France in a few days, because listening to those two talking codswallop during the becalming was enough to make me want to slit my cable tie.

Channel hopping

A mostly gastronomic delight of sailing a QUALIFYING passage for the Yachting Monthly Triangle race is now complete.

As with all plans, they never quite go as we'd like entirely. But as this was our final weekend with opportunity to cover the required distance, we had little choice but to go for it.
The previous weekends glorious sunshine and light winds we had hoped would bless us for our qualifying passage were swapped for strong winds, gale warnings, squalls, hailstorms, thunderstorms and an on the nose southerly wind all the way to Fecamp, where we were due to meet up with a whole flotilla of others who were taking part in the annual Royal Escape from Brighton.

"I'm not leaving without a passage plan?" I say, "I'm not leaving without a food plan?" my co-skip replies. 

 

We all have our priorities in life. I'm glad ours are complimentary.

Hazel turned up with bags of food and a moderate level of optimism that we might set sail at our predetermined time of 0000 Friday morning to catch a fast tide toward Brighton before heading south toward Fecamp.
But as thursday evening drew closer to the planned departure time, the winds built and built. In the mean time, in a sleepy over worked haze I attempted to make some semblance of a passage plan, however forgetting which way up my breton plotter works and clumsily wielding my dividers didn't immediately instill confidence in my co skipper. I tried to reassure that actually I've been doing this for years but gained no further confidence. I really must remember to switch on brain and engage thistle (1 - ref 1m18s) if I'm to ever be taken seriously as a capable sea dog.
All the while, the wind howled and the boat shook, rocked and rolled on it's pontoon berth.

So we made the choice of sane people and chose our beds, rather than a night of hellish weather on the water. I was quite thankful for the sleep. There's a rumour I don't need sleep. I do.
Being hyperactive, I'm either  go-go-go, or stop. So people rarely see me tired. I'm very lucky though, I could sleep on a washing line if I needed to.

The next morning, no sign of the weather being any less howling, we sat and waited. Quietly contemplating.
Until 1600 and finally the weather calmed enough to reverse out of our berth and head off in an approximately southerly direction on a revised passage plan.

Hazel at the helm, letting the autopilot take the strain

having food that can be chucked in the oven and left is ideal at this angle

I administered the seasickness tablets from the off. I didn't fancy a green faced repeat of our last attempt. Especially given the fantastic food Hazel had prepared and stowed in the fridge.

The first culinary delight was chicken tagine. Though, it was more a moroccan chicken dish cooked in a pyrex ovenable bowl, rather than an actual tagine. Whatever it was, it was delicious.

We started our watch pattern at 8pm. two hours on, two hours off. This seemed to work well. I took the 0000-0200 watch happily, returning for another dose of cold night air in the channel at 0400.
The saloon served as hot bunk for both of us, as it's the most comfortable place to sleep at sea.

 Around 20 hours after we set sail, we spotted land again. It would take a further 8 hours to reach it though and this, despite being the sunniest part of the day was torturous. We knew there was a small party going on ahead of us in Fecamp with the other crews who had taken part in the Royal Escape and we wanted to be part of it.

During the trip, we had squalls, hailstorms, thunderstorms, becalming and sunshine. So a fairly good test of team work. One of the battens decided it was a javelin and flew out of the mainsail and is now an underwater ornament.

We arrived in Fecamp at 8pm British time, which gave us just enough time for cheese and wine at the yacht club where a few of the revellers from the Royal Escape were ending their night.
We waddled back to Boogie Nights around 2am, after a social gathering on another boat, called Ocean Dream. I quietly prayed that the invisible forcefield would keep me on the mini finger pontoons or bouncy springboards our boats were tied up to and not have to rely on crawling along it to stay on.

The next morning as Hazel and I caught up on much needed sleep, one of the crew from a boat we had been guest to the previous night brought round fresh bread. I can only apologise to the lovely chap who delivered it for what must have looked like a creature dragged from the bottom of the black lagoon via a hedge backwards, that greeted him.

"That was one too many dark and stormies for me I think."

 A beautiful sunny day greeted us, with sausage rolls for breakast. A quick wander around the town to show me the place as it was my first visit, as well as a quick stop for pastry and the eclaire "where chocolate goes to die" was carried back for closer inspection.

a chocolate eclair, where chocolate goes to die.

Back to the passage planning and the best tide looked like a 1900 departure time from Fecamp. Oh and quel ser -fucking-prise, the wind shifted to northerly. The weather can be a right cunt sometimes.

 It rained. It rained, and it didn't stop raining for twenty hours straight.

The beef bourguignon that Hazel had pre-prepared in the slow cooker at home was excellent and really kept spirits high, despite the damp. And a hot french pain au chocolate for breakfast is always a winner.
What wasn't a winner was Co-skipper almost knocking herself unconscious on a closed companionway hatch at 0400 in the morning as we were due to swap watch. She was promptly sent back below to lay down and recover. re-emerging at just after 0700 looking fragile. Just as I'd peeled off my wet clothes I was summoned back up to help put a reef in. This should have been a 5 minute job, I didn't bother with foul weather gear. Just a life jacket. But tiredness got the better of me and it took more like 15, plus a bit longer to rescue a stray spinnaker halyard that was flying loose.

"Still, I did laugh, as the rain soaked me to the skin again. What fun this boating lark is."

Jayne on helm, a rare moment of hand steering. 

But, the job is jobbed. We logged 145NM (28 hours) to get down there and complete our qualification for the race and another 110NM (20 hours) for the trip back.

The Journey typically would take around 85NM  or 16 hours on average if going direct. 

Now, I just have my snagging list to complete and get the boat to Torquay for June 13th.