Having retrieved Dixie from the harbour at the end of 2000 with it's bent rudder stock there was some work to be done over the winter. Out came the rudder and stock, the whole lot being dismantled and inspected. Last 2 inches of the stock was bent about 5 degrees. Fortunately a local engineering firm which does a lot of stainless steel work replaced the round bar for a very reasonable £25. Some of the GRP sheathing on the blade was a bit worn so that was re-sheathed with epoxy and glass cloth. We scraped off enough barnacles from the hull to make a driveway and applied lashings of antifoul. Slightly dodgy inboard engine is tweaked, tuned and tested. Now runs perfectly OK.
As only one of the crew of three had a radio operators licence, the other two of us spent an interesting day at Wells Lifeboat station taking our test and passing it. Now we're all licenced to call for help.
Then came time to relaunch. Since the harbour channels move around such a lot our mooring this year is a swinging mooring, as opposed to a fore and aft, which should be much easier to manage. Accordingly I made a mooring strop from an enormous piece of rope, complete with chafing gear and pick up buoy, paddled out to the mooring and attached it all to the swivel on the mooring. This was a glorious day, sitting in a dinghy at the mooring, splicing and shackling in the sunshine. I even got a suntan. Was this a precursor to a fine sailing season?
Trying to arrange the requisite number of bodies to assist proved somewhat
difficult, what with work and everything else coinciding with tide times,
so eventually I towed the whole lot to Wells on my own. Since there are
always lot's of people who will help, including Bob from the Harbour Office,
I am confident that launching will be accomplished easily.
Anyway, the tide came in and I dried off. Yacht floats, so I pull it round the wall and tie up to the quay. Retrieved the dolly from the water and parked trailer neatly on top of quay. The rest of the equipment was then loaded aboard and tidied up. Outboard attached to back, inboard fired up, water flow checked and I'm off to the mooring. Having adjusted and checked the Vire inboard over the winter, following last seasons troubles, I'm quite chuffed to find myself motoring along at 4 knots into the still rising tide. This is the life. Lounging nonchalantly in the cockpit, tiller in hand, I cruised along, aiming neatly for the channel through the moored boats.
Yes, you guessed right. The engine stopped. Being alone on board I soon discovered the glaring error in having the starter switch inside the cabin. To restart the engine I'll have to leave the tiller. If I leave the tiller I'll hit something. Fortunately I have the backup outboard so that's soon purring away and I'm off again. Did anyone notice? Of course they did. The safety boat from the sailing club was nearby, keeping an eye on me.
Before long though I'm approaching our mooring. The pick-up buoy is right where it should be, so I approached gently into the tide to put the buoy to port. As I got closer I dropped the outboard into neutral and grabbed the buoy. Freeboard on a Corribee is quite low at the cockpit sides, so I didn't even need the boathook. Pull up the slack on the trot line, grab the mooring strop, walk up to the bow and drop it over the Samson post. That went so smoothly I was tempted to do it again, but decided not to push my luck.
Now safely moored I checked the engine and found that the road trip had obviously dislodged some muck somewhere in the fuel tank, which had lodged in the carb and flooded the engine. (And the bilge. There was a good cupful of petrol in there.) Having mopped up and aired the entire boat I decided to call it a day, being slightly wary of doing anything in the vicinity of petrol vapour.
A week later sees two of us aboard, checking things out, putting the rest of the stuff aboard, tidying up and making sure that all is well. However, the weather has taken a turn for the worse and is getting quite blowy, so we don't get off the mooring, restricting ourselves to exploring the current channel in the dinghy. Then the heavens opened so we gave up and went home.
This was the start of the summer weather which saw Mother Nature doing
her best to dilute the North Sea to the point where you can drink it. Rain.
Gales. This is June for goodness sake.
And on the last weekend in July she answered. Weather was hot and sunny, with a gentle north westerly, and high tides in the middle of the day. Just right for us to get in a couple of hours practise. Saturday has us motoring up in the dinghy about an hour before high water. We quickly raise the main, and prepare to move off.
Perhaps we were just too eager or something, but we managed to run over the mooring and snag the line to the pick up buoy over the rudder. And with a spade rudder and bilge keels there is no way of shifting said rope backwards or forwards. Now we're stuck, moored by the rudder to the sea bed. Fortunately our hero, Bob from the Harbourmasters office, happens to be about 10 yards away in the launch and soon has us free, even rehashing the mooring buoy while we're out.
But at least we're away again. Down to the lifeboat house and a short sail down the channel leads us to an area with less wind than we thought there would be. Oh well, never mind. We sailed gently along, close hauled into a force 1 at the most, then turned round and ran before the same force 1. Nice and slowly, just how we should. Still, it was pleasant, it was sunny and warm, and there can't be a better way to spend an hour. Without the wind we won't get the practise we need so we motored back up to the mooring buoy, coasted gently alongside, picked it up and moored with style. Dare I say that mooring up is something we've mastered.
The following day dawns bright and sunny, with the prospect of more wind, so off we go again. Being a Sunday, Wells was packed, and we arrived early. Had to hand in an application form to the Sailing Club, where we met an old friend, so we sat around and chatted until the tide started rising. Then we're off down the channel to the mooring. (So is the rest of the planet by the look of it, so we get plenty of practise at the Col Regs). We're soon aboard, mainsail raised, inboard ticking over, drop the mooring and clear it carefully, then we motor gently down the channel towards the lifeboat house. As we reach the dog-leg in the channel we pick up the wind properly, cut the engine and sail under mainsail only along the channel.
Sticking to mainsail only, since we seem to be getting along quite nicely, we followed the red buoys marking the channel. Keeping clear of the holiday makers splashing about in the sea is easier from way over there. To starboard are two large sandbanks, which currently don't submerge at high tide. They are surrounded by yellowy brown water about 6-10 feet deep at high water, -10 feet at low water. To port is more shallow water, while the channel shows up as dark green, with about 15 feet of water under us. Following the buoys and the green water is easy. Before too long we go between the last two buoys, the water changes colour to yellowy brown and the seas get very lumpy. Then the water changes back to dark green and the waves become longer and more regular. We are in twenty five feet of water.
Ahead of us is a red and white buoy. Just to make sure this is the correct buoy, the chart is consulted. The red and white buoy is the Wells fairway buoy. This is offshore of the harbour entrance. We've done it. We've crossed the bar and we're out in the North Sea proper.
By way of celebration we raise the jib and proceed to sail in a large circle, some upwind, some downwind and some across the wind. Oddly enough the wind out here was lighter than inshore. After some time, but still well before high tide, we notice that most of the other yachts out here are working back towards the channel. Always willing to learn from others (because they know more than us) we do likewise, and join the stream of yachts sailing landwards.
Slotting back into the channel takes us back over the bar, only this time we realise we're crossing it. Now we can recognise it, by the colour of the water and the way the waves change shape and height. Approaching the land, the wind increases again and changes direction. It's being deflected and funnelled by the tall stands of pine trees along the coast. And are we shifting. If we get the direction and the set of the sails right we find we're rattling along at 6 knots with a foamy bow wave streaming out both sides. Get it wrong and we clatter about at 2 knots if we're lucky. Re-adjust and we're back to 6 knots again. A pity the wind offshore was lighter than inshore. However we continue to sail up the channel, avoiding the water skiers and board sailers. We watch the lifeboat being towed back into it's shed. We manouvre round a couple of boats who have right of way and then tack round the big green buoy at the dog-leg.
Whoops. Didn't quite make it, so have to tack back to clear the buoy and then tack again. This close quarters stuff is exciting isn't it. Back into clear water we decide that sailing back to the mooring may be a bit too hairy, so it's motor on, sails down and back up the last stretch. Moored up. (Yes, mooring appears to have been mastered. Smooth is not the word for it)
If the log can be believed we've gone about 4 miles, mostly at about 2 knots. Didn't realise we'd been out for two hours, but we had. Next time we may go further, who knows. (Of course we'll go further, there will be no stopping us now)
Spent the next couple of hours in the harbour, tidying up and rethinking some of the internal storage. Checked for water in the bilges. None. Went for a dinghy cruise round the harbour. (Once of us slipped on the gunwhale while getting into the dinghy and ended up with one leg in the cockpit, the other in the water. A few bruises to show for that). Saw some big Newfoundland rescue dogs swimming in the harbour and went for a closer look. Ended up with one of them in the dinghy. Passed another Tinker dinghy going the other way. Waves all round.
Unfortunately even such grand days have to end and before long we're back at the slipway. And naturally as we approach the Seagull runs out of petrol. (Well we have been riding up and down the harbour with it). And of course there are hundreds of people about. However we have enough speed to make it look as if this is intentional and use the oars to gently run up onto the beach. With the dinghy pulled up onto the beach we removed all the loose bits and deflated the tubes. Having done all this so often now, we can get the whole lot ashore and packed up in less than ten minutes. Five if we're in a hurry. And then we're approached by another dinghy owner on the slipway. He had an inflatable which sat on a small trailer. Actually he was impressed with the way ours was packed away so quickly and came over to compliment us. I don't think his packs away anywhere near so well.
So we've actually got past the bar. We've skippered our own boat out onto the high seas. We've got back again. A bit more practise and we'll be off round the world!!!!!!!
No more opportunities to get out in July. What will August bring?
So many things came up, including the threat of redundancy (survived!),
that no free days arose at all. Mind you, the weather up here hasn't been
too brilliant for sailing a small boat anyway.
Managed one morning so far. Very high tides just after some floods. Naturally there is a problem with the inboard, so that has to be fixed. Mooring strop is all twisted up and rubbing the wooden rubbing strake away. Then enormous rain clouds appeared in the North East. Although there were a couple of other boats out we decided against it. (Wrongly as it turned out. An hour later it was marvellous). While returning to the slip in the Tinker we spotted a couple on the bank with oars. Unfortunately the tide was so high they couldn't reach their tender, so we popped ashore and paddled them out to it. Always help someone out, you never know when they can do the same for you. During the general chat we learned that boat retrieval day would be early October, when everyone joins in, so we carried on to the Harbour Office and booked a slot. While there the Albatross came in. This is a big 80 foot 150 ton steel gaffer, once chartered to Greenpeace, but now doing trips out. It was the last sailing vessel ever to deliver a cargo in Europe, unloading at Wells in 1996. Hopefully with practise we should be able to emulate the skippers mooring skills. Turning round in a channel not much wider than it's own length, this enormous boat nudged gently up to the quay wall sideways and stopped about a foot away. Makes our handling skills look amateurish (which they are). And just to round it off we then saw another yacht reversing through the moorings with practised ease.
So it looks as if this years season is actually over for us. We haven't had half as much practise as we should have or would have liked but never mind. There's always next season to look forward to. Now we must get the trailer ready for October, get the mast down ready and then join in the retrievals.
Got the boat ready for removal during a low tide. Paddled down in the dinghy with the outgoing tide and started preparations. After we'd settled on the bottom the mast came down easily, considering this was done single handed. All lashed down and ready to go. Fair amount of equipment removed for storage. Took the outboard off and transferred it to the dinghy for the trip back to the slipway. Locked the boat up and away.
Well not quite. As it's now low tide there isn't enough water to run the outboard in, so I have to row. Unfortunately the tide is running at a rate faster than I can row, since it's hurtling over a sand bar. And in places the water is too shallow to row in. The only option is to get out and tow the dinghy over the shallow bits to where the channel is better defined and deeper. And it's raining now. So eventually I get to the deep bit, somewhat damp, and can motor up the channel back to the slipway. Until it get's shallow again and muddy.
Arrived at the main quay early on the monday morning to find an enormous crane parked up and about a dozen boats alongside, including ours. Spoke to the blokes collecting the boats from the moorings and find that several boats have been left with all their fenders and mooring ropes safely locked away, including ours. I'll remember that next time. Checked the trailer over again and find someone has nicked two of the R clips off the wheels. Good job it's not going down the slipway. Then we start lifting boats out. The crane driver knows his stuff and he can put a boat down exactly where it's needed. Before we know it fifteen or so boats have been lifted out onto trailers in the same time it would have taken us to get ours on it's trailer from the slipway. The cost of lifting out is shared between everybody which makes it very reasonable. Even lifted a 30 foot catamaran onto a lorry. One boat then got lifted back in because one of it's trailer tyres went somewhat flat, but other than that no hiccups.
And that is definitely the end of a season. All in all a short year sailing wise, but we've learned more. With the boat in the compound at Wells it should go back in next year earlier than this year, which should give us a longer season. Then we'll learn even more. Will the third season see us out at sea from one tide to the next, or even, dare I say it, overnight?