I just found this ont'internet,
Yachting Monthly | See Inside Page 63 | February 2012 | Zinio Digital Magazines & Books
Yachting Monthly | See Inside Page 63 | February 2012 | Zinio Digital Magazines & Books
30 June 2012
07 June 2012
let's go again
A few days ago, when closing the raw water in for the engine (and toilet) the valve turned in my hand.
The thread it turned on is before the valve not after it.
which means, boo boos if it leaks.
I tickled the thread with a finger to see if there was water.
yes.
water coming in, from the outside, and no back up pump.
Varekai had to be lifted out for a quick over-nighter in the slings.
It's a quick two person job, one person stands outside with a bar rammed up the jacksie hole, while someone else is on the receiving end inside, by the valve, putting some silicon on the threads, unscrewing it then screwing it tighter.
Boats, filthy buggers.
It had a nice wash down while it was out and a couple of new anodes added to its shaft. I got green stuff in my hair from standing underneath, cleaning around the holes.
Like I say, filth. I mean, it's not possible to talk about a boat without it sounding like some sort of pornography.
the silicon this time was actually evo stick wet line, or something like that. It's a marvel. sets fast and can even be applied under water. (which thankfully I didn't need to do)
Varekai went straight back in the next day, and back round to its mooring.
a few days later, a long weekend planned, as all plans go... it didn't go to plan. The weather came along, the best of British weather and I was consigned to just an afternoon and evening of river stuff.
But even that was short lived, as muppetry ensued.
I had previously the week before, adjusted the furling line on the jib to take a few turns off that were causing it to jam.
Unfortunately, the crew I had with me didn't know that when I said "you may need to use the winch to assist you" when I asked him to bring in the jib for a while when we were head to wind.
He didn't understand that cranking very very hard on a rope that goes to the furler means something is wrong. The sheet was too tight, pulling the sail in very tight and not enough turns left on the furling drum.
Being much stronger than me, I didn't realise that he had cranked up the furling line so tight that it pulled the fixing out, snapping the plastic barrel in the process.
As it went "bang" I realised immediately some bullshit had just hit the fan. I pegged it forward to avoid the sail un-furling in the stiff breeze. All the while trying to explain what the word, "lashing" means to Johnny foreigner Crew mate. I take full responsibility, I should have spotted the mistake before it happened. Now I need to find/buy/source a new inner drum half for my Furlex.
magically though, Rod Tinsley single handing his Moody out on the river managed to take a pic before it all went wrong.
It's the first pic of Varekai like this. Many thanks for allowing me to post this pic Rod.
He's a decent boat snapper, have a look at his site: www.rodtinsley.co.uk
The thread it turned on is before the valve not after it.
which means, boo boos if it leaks.
I tickled the thread with a finger to see if there was water.
yes.
water coming in, from the outside, and no back up pump.
Varekai had to be lifted out for a quick over-nighter in the slings.
It's a quick two person job, one person stands outside with a bar rammed up the jacksie hole, while someone else is on the receiving end inside, by the valve, putting some silicon on the threads, unscrewing it then screwing it tighter.
Boats, filthy buggers.
It had a nice wash down while it was out and a couple of new anodes added to its shaft. I got green stuff in my hair from standing underneath, cleaning around the holes.
Like I say, filth. I mean, it's not possible to talk about a boat without it sounding like some sort of pornography.
the silicon this time was actually evo stick wet line, or something like that. It's a marvel. sets fast and can even be applied under water. (which thankfully I didn't need to do)
Varekai went straight back in the next day, and back round to its mooring.
a few days later, a long weekend planned, as all plans go... it didn't go to plan. The weather came along, the best of British weather and I was consigned to just an afternoon and evening of river stuff.
But even that was short lived, as muppetry ensued.
I had previously the week before, adjusted the furling line on the jib to take a few turns off that were causing it to jam.
Unfortunately, the crew I had with me didn't know that when I said "you may need to use the winch to assist you" when I asked him to bring in the jib for a while when we were head to wind.
He didn't understand that cranking very very hard on a rope that goes to the furler means something is wrong. The sheet was too tight, pulling the sail in very tight and not enough turns left on the furling drum.
Being much stronger than me, I didn't realise that he had cranked up the furling line so tight that it pulled the fixing out, snapping the plastic barrel in the process.
As it went "bang" I realised immediately some bullshit had just hit the fan. I pegged it forward to avoid the sail un-furling in the stiff breeze. All the while trying to explain what the word, "lashing" means to Johnny foreigner Crew mate. I take full responsibility, I should have spotted the mistake before it happened. Now I need to find/buy/source a new inner drum half for my Furlex.
magically though, Rod Tinsley single handing his Moody out on the river managed to take a pic before it all went wrong.
It's the first pic of Varekai like this. Many thanks for allowing me to post this pic Rod.
He's a decent boat snapper, have a look at his site: www.rodtinsley.co.uk
 |
| just an hour or so before the muppetry began. |
29 May 2012
Hello Sunshine
Finally, out of the marina. Finally, got a sail up.
aaaah, such happy times can only bring expense and misery.
shortly after the pics were taken, I discovered a loose raw water inlet valve for the engine.
Varekai had to be rushed back into the marina the next day, craned out and waiting for me when I got home from work.
Bugger
all pics courtesy of the man with the camera, Gids. Mucho mucho gracias.
 |
| dinghy prepared |
 |
| sails up |
 |
| isn't it lovely |
 |
| Happy happy happy |
 |
| just coming around to land, flaps down |
shortly after the pics were taken, I discovered a loose raw water inlet valve for the engine.
Varekai had to be rushed back into the marina the next day, craned out and waiting for me when I got home from work.
Bugger
all pics courtesy of the man with the camera, Gids. Mucho mucho gracias.
getting some miles in
leaving my sorry looking Dehler 36 behind for a couple of weeks I jumped on a plane and headed for Gran Canaria.
Along with Skipper Des and crew mate Keith we had ten days to move a Hanse 371 from the canaries to Portugal, as far north as possible in the time we had.
it went something like this:
These are stills from the video I am making. Watch this space.
Along with Skipper Des and crew mate Keith we had ten days to move a Hanse 371 from the canaries to Portugal, as far north as possible in the time we had.
it went something like this:
 |
| The taxi along sheer drops around the island |
 |
| skip eats a mini monty from the pan |
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| arriving at porto santo |
 |
| Keiths favourite spot off-watch |
 |
| The Jayne-burka - factor 200 sunscreen |
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| The yellow wagtail thought this may be an unusually large mate in equally fetching yellow |
 |
| Skip pulled some exotic bird. She was found face down in the oranges next morning, sent off to Davy Jones locker |
 |
| the daily dose of Dolphin |
 |
| Night watch |
 |
| watching the sun go down |
 |
| and then watching the sun come up again on the other side |
 |
| I suppose I better look like I can steer this thing since we've done 1000 miles already |
 |
| The rain, obligatory on every trip |
 |
| The route we took, in 3 legs, 3 days, 4 days and then 1.5 days |
These are stills from the video I am making. Watch this space.
29 April 2012
Toilet Humour
I have a filthy sense of humour. I laugh at farting, shit jokes and piss taking. When I woke up to a nasty niff the other week, I was not impressed or laughing. I didn't laugh as I poked half of my pyjama'd body in through the lazarette hatch hole to have to inspect the inspection hatch of my holding tank. The only smile on my face was actually a twisted screwed up shrew face, of someone who just smelled a saucy mix of urine, faeces and trouble ahead.
The tank had a rather inflated look about it and the contents had somehow found their way out of the tank, up onto the inspection hatch lid and then overflowed, dribbling their way into the locker bilge. I looked on with a tear in my eye. So, let me first explain what was going on. For this we need a diagram and some visual references.
and anyone unfamiliar with a boat toilet, a sea toilet as it may be called, here is a pic to familiarise yourself with:
Going back to the diagram, you will see a box, this is where the toilet business goes. Held in a blue plastic tank where it awaits liberation when in an open sea situation or occasional pumping out from a marina suction facility. The exit of the tank is guarded by a muncher. A macerator, but it's an angry sounding beast, to me its a bit like a wild animal having a go at the sewage it feeds on. It spits it out, and through a valve, it goes out to sea and adds a little more sewage to the masses of mutated sea bass swimming out there. yum. On the box, there is a little pipe that vents to the outside world, up on deck. it allows the tank to breath as well as displace air volume when we add more liquid to the contents, and allows air back in when I give Muncher a go at emptying the tank. If the vent is blocked it stops the muncher emptying the tank as it cant breath, and it stops the tank from breathing, so it inflates with gasses and whatnot. its an important part of the riddle this little vent.
I didnt have to be a turd scientist to work out that the vent was blocked.
Months of condensation in the pipe had built up a sticky poo vent residue and eventually blocked completely, stopping the system from working. I only found out when the holding tank over flowed into the locker, which vented into the rest of the boat, making it smell fruity. As a stop gap while I composed myself, I thought I would switch the diverter valve to allow the toilet to empty directly outside, bypassing the holding tank altogether. It hadn't been used in years. Completely calcified, it wasn't budging. Only one thing for it. Everything would have to come apart for a thorough clean. I trolled off to the shop for a few cleaning items.
the vent pipe came off, the line was bleached, cleaned, jet washed, blockage removed. Job done. Pipe back on. The inspection hatch came off for cleaning, and while it was off I took a moment to inspect and see if I could work out why the poo gauge was on full all the time. What greeted my dewy eye was a pile of heaped up stale shite to one end of the tank, unmoved by my efforts to pump the tank empty with the muncher. semi solid, it just sat there while the liquids emptied around it, leaving the tank at half capacity at best. I needed a stick. There was only one way this bad boy was going anywhere.
In Bob Marley style, I had to Stir It Up.
Pointing a hose tentatively inside the box, I rewatered the poo, agitated it with a stick, activated the muncher, then poured more water in, agitated some more and repeated the process several times until I could see the bottom of the tank finally. This wasn't without hazard though as the splash back from the hose in the tank meant inevitably I got shit on my face. Which was nice.
Next job. Clean the stuck valve. Taking the hoses off the valve, it unscrewed to reveal a nicely calcified interior. The scaling slid away easily, it was too easy. I filled the pipes with vinegar and watched the calcium bubble away. Putting everything together again, hoses back on. I pumped the boom box with trepidation. Yes, the valve now leaked like a spit roast prostitute. It was not a pretty sight. The plastic valve it seems had been cracked a while, but had been nicely sealed with the calcium deposits. Freshly de-scaled, it now dribbled and splurted out in a whole new direction than manufacturers intended and the toilet had to be put out of commission while I waited for the chandlers to open again. A night of pissing in a bucket.
Next morning, new valve from Chandler B in Southend. Slightly different but it does the job. Except it leaks. just a tiny amount. Maybe it will bed itself in?
The tank had a rather inflated look about it and the contents had somehow found their way out of the tank, up onto the inspection hatch lid and then overflowed, dribbling their way into the locker bilge. I looked on with a tear in my eye. So, let me first explain what was going on. For this we need a diagram and some visual references.
I didnt have to be a turd scientist to work out that the vent was blocked.
Months of condensation in the pipe had built up a sticky poo vent residue and eventually blocked completely, stopping the system from working. I only found out when the holding tank over flowed into the locker, which vented into the rest of the boat, making it smell fruity. As a stop gap while I composed myself, I thought I would switch the diverter valve to allow the toilet to empty directly outside, bypassing the holding tank altogether. It hadn't been used in years. Completely calcified, it wasn't budging. Only one thing for it. Everything would have to come apart for a thorough clean. I trolled off to the shop for a few cleaning items.
In Bob Marley style, I had to Stir It Up.
Pointing a hose tentatively inside the box, I rewatered the poo, agitated it with a stick, activated the muncher, then poured more water in, agitated some more and repeated the process several times until I could see the bottom of the tank finally. This wasn't without hazard though as the splash back from the hose in the tank meant inevitably I got shit on my face. Which was nice.
Next morning, new valve from Chandler B in Southend. Slightly different but it does the job. Except it leaks. just a tiny amount. Maybe it will bed itself in?
05 March 2012
egg bound, jib wiggle and wonderpants
A weekend of two halves, one half shopping at a chandlery for bits to fix my bridle to the spinnaker pole and the other half, sewing.
While I was sewing I asked Crew member 2 to make a batter mix that I could make some pancakes with for breakfast.
No problem says Crew member 2. Digging the eggs out of the cupboard I suggested the float test just in case there was a bad one in there as they were from someones chickens in their back garden so the laid-date was a bit unknown.
One floating egg out of three, meant one egg was going to be donated to the river life.
Crew member 2 decided to try to throw it out of the window, as there was a tempest blowing outside, the crew was reluctant to go out. I strongly suggested (don't fucking dare, if you put egg on my deck I will kick your fucking lazy arse) that the crew didn't do that because it's impossible to clear the deck and pontoon.
So the crew opened the washboard and attempted to throw the egg from the companionway instead (at the same time as me saying, Don't, whatever you do... get that on the neighbours boat....).
This was a fatally flawed plan as the wind was blowing so hard, the crew miscalculated the trajectory of the rotten eggy missile and managed to Egg the neighbours boat.
Bravo.
the neighbour is particularly boat proud, having on several occasionas asked me to move my boat away from his as he thinks it too tight a spot to moor two boats. Afraid that I may scuff his pristine shiny boat with my old fenders slung between us as a gesture of goodwill. I've placated him by reassuring him that I keep an eye on his boat while he isn't there. I never said anything about eggs.
Crew member 2 spent 10 minutes with a hose pipe washing down boat-proud-neighbours boat.
So much for avoiding going out in the storm.
At 2am I was rudely awoken by the boat shaking violently and the sound of the rigging being torn from it's shrouds and the mast falling on the neighbours boat. I leapt out of bed to look though the forward hatch to see what was going on and saw the Jib flogging about unfurled.
Shrouds still intact. Mast still standing.
Dressed only in a furry dressing gown, wonder-woman pants and sailing boots I dashed outside.
The wind was howling at I have no idea what speed but it was probably 40-50mph gusts. It was hard to stand up. And the icy biting cold howled straight through my dressing gown. The upper parts of my body screamed from the cold, my feet, however were at least warm and dry. Thanks to Mr Henri Lloyd.
I struggled to winch in the Jib, the rampant flogging had caused it to jam, so I headed up forward to lash the last bit with a long length of bungee I had grabbed on my way out.
A very messy bundle of sail all trussed up in bungee later and I headed back down below out of the storm to relative peace. Just the fact I was still leaning at a bizarre angle for a marina berth told me it was still blowing old boots outside.
While I was sewing I asked Crew member 2 to make a batter mix that I could make some pancakes with for breakfast.
No problem says Crew member 2. Digging the eggs out of the cupboard I suggested the float test just in case there was a bad one in there as they were from someones chickens in their back garden so the laid-date was a bit unknown.
One floating egg out of three, meant one egg was going to be donated to the river life.
Crew member 2 decided to try to throw it out of the window, as there was a tempest blowing outside, the crew was reluctant to go out. I strongly suggested (don't fucking dare, if you put egg on my deck I will kick your fucking lazy arse) that the crew didn't do that because it's impossible to clear the deck and pontoon.
So the crew opened the washboard and attempted to throw the egg from the companionway instead (at the same time as me saying, Don't, whatever you do... get that on the neighbours boat....).
This was a fatally flawed plan as the wind was blowing so hard, the crew miscalculated the trajectory of the rotten eggy missile and managed to Egg the neighbours boat.
Bravo.
the neighbour is particularly boat proud, having on several occasionas asked me to move my boat away from his as he thinks it too tight a spot to moor two boats. Afraid that I may scuff his pristine shiny boat with my old fenders slung between us as a gesture of goodwill. I've placated him by reassuring him that I keep an eye on his boat while he isn't there. I never said anything about eggs.
Crew member 2 spent 10 minutes with a hose pipe washing down boat-proud-neighbours boat.
So much for avoiding going out in the storm.
At 2am I was rudely awoken by the boat shaking violently and the sound of the rigging being torn from it's shrouds and the mast falling on the neighbours boat. I leapt out of bed to look though the forward hatch to see what was going on and saw the Jib flogging about unfurled.
Shrouds still intact. Mast still standing.
Dressed only in a furry dressing gown, wonder-woman pants and sailing boots I dashed outside.
The wind was howling at I have no idea what speed but it was probably 40-50mph gusts. It was hard to stand up. And the icy biting cold howled straight through my dressing gown. The upper parts of my body screamed from the cold, my feet, however were at least warm and dry. Thanks to Mr Henri Lloyd.
I struggled to winch in the Jib, the rampant flogging had caused it to jam, so I headed up forward to lash the last bit with a long length of bungee I had grabbed on my way out.
A very messy bundle of sail all trussed up in bungee later and I headed back down below out of the storm to relative peace. Just the fact I was still leaning at a bizarre angle for a marina berth told me it was still blowing old boots outside.
26 February 2012
let's go fly a kite...
Another first today.
Finally, the moment arrived to try out the spinnaker. It's something as a dinghy sailor I've never had to do. All of my dinghies have been really simple things, just a small main sail, or a main sail and a foresail. Nothing more complicated than that.
It was first mooted at the end of last year so I dug under my bed in the forepeak and found the huge bag of magical mystery material. I pulled it all out for inspection in the comfort of a warm club house. the whole thing was packed nicely, pulled out again, packed nicely again and then stashed away back under my bed.
The plan to go out with it between 25th and 31st of December never came to fruition, tides all awkward to get out of the marina and then strong winds set it back.
But then it all came together today, after a furious 1 hour of tidying below to make it safe, the engine started nicely after 3 months of sleeping and the small can of spray oil made slippy all the moving parts of the spinnaker pole.
Spray hood down... chug out of the marina for the fist time since December and what a fabulous day!
and my best friend came along for the ride to show off her catalogue pose.
all in all, a successful first go at flying a boat-kite.
Finally, the moment arrived to try out the spinnaker. It's something as a dinghy sailor I've never had to do. All of my dinghies have been really simple things, just a small main sail, or a main sail and a foresail. Nothing more complicated than that.
It was first mooted at the end of last year so I dug under my bed in the forepeak and found the huge bag of magical mystery material. I pulled it all out for inspection in the comfort of a warm club house. the whole thing was packed nicely, pulled out again, packed nicely again and then stashed away back under my bed.
The plan to go out with it between 25th and 31st of December never came to fruition, tides all awkward to get out of the marina and then strong winds set it back.
But then it all came together today, after a furious 1 hour of tidying below to make it safe, the engine started nicely after 3 months of sleeping and the small can of spray oil made slippy all the moving parts of the spinnaker pole.
Spray hood down... chug out of the marina for the fist time since December and what a fabulous day!
and my best friend came along for the ride to show off her catalogue pose.
all in all, a successful first go at flying a boat-kite.
19 February 2012
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
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.
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.
05 February 2012
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