Job Done

Picked Paschall up at 07:30 Friday morning. The plan was to shoot down to Poole, sort the rigging, remove the mast, lift her out with the Marina Hoist, and then place her on a truck arranged for Saturday, arriving back at Cardiff early afternoon.

Of course, that was just the plan.......

The rigging came off quite easily, and when the time came round for the lift out at 14:00, we were ready, the 12 stainless bolts holding down the boss at the base of the mast had been removed. The mast would now simply 'pop out' of its keel step when a crane lift was applied, according to the previous owner.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Paschall, 'popping out' the mast"][/caption]

 

No amount of lifting resulted in any kind of 'pop', however, and when the boat itself started to lift out of the water by the mast, we realised we were beaten. The best hope now was to lift her out onto the hard, try and work out what was holding the mast so firmly, and lift it on Saturday morning when the truck arrived.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lift out"][/caption]

Once she'd been lifted out, we spent a couple of hours talking and theorising. I felt that a small collar of fibreglass at the top of the mast step shoe was holding it. Paschall agreed, and set about cutting it away. It quickly became clear that this was very firmly glued to the mast indeed, and it took Paschall several hours in the cramped forecabin to remove it.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Cutting the mast step."][/caption]

 

A beer and a chinese takeaway (chip shop shuts at 21:30.....) and then to our bunks. Les was due to arrive at 10:00 Saturday with his truck.

The three hours we spent waiting for Les as he tried to find us were extremely frustrating. We had no idea whether the mast would now 'pop', or whether more work was needed, and the hoist driver left at 17:00. Time was getting short.

When he got there, our first attempt to remove the mast failed again, with nylon rope. Les suggested using strops instead, and we nervously rigged them. Please, please work.

5 minutes later there was the overdue pop, and relief all round.

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Pop"][/caption]

There followed a frantic hour as we secured everything, sail bundle, mast, fenders and so on. It was 15:30 when we finally raised her in the hoist and gently reversed the truck under her.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Keep coming"][/caption]

Straps on, and very soon, Les was pulling away. Paschall and I watched them leave the marina.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Bye bye"][/caption]

 

She arrived back in Cardiff a few hours later, as did we.

So, a planned trip involving an adventurous sail around Land's end and up the Bristol Channel, my first time in a junk rigged vessel, turned into a 60 mile sail and a road trip. I know a fair bit about junk rigs now, though. More structural than sailing, it has to be said.

Anyway, job done.

Failed

We've been looking for a weather window all week, and it just isn't happening. Forecasts around or above the 20 knot mark abound, and all seem Westerly. With marina fees in Poole mounting, Paschall has (I think wisely) decided that a road trip is sensible.

We're going to drive down to the boat tomorrow and dismast her, and then truck her back to Cardiff on Saturday.

Now that the decision is made, and the lorry booked, no doubt a high pressure and associated Easterlies is a certainty.

Meantime, my first trip around Land's end will have to wait.

Chichester to Cardiff. Wind - variable

We'd watched the wind all week. The forecast by Thursday was for a low pressure to affect the UK, but whether it would track far enough South to affect us was not at all certain. Possible force 7 forecast for Sunday, but some weather forecasting sites were giving 10-15 knot winds.

Vince, Paschall and myself spoke on the phone on Thursday and decided to go for it. We'd pick up the junk from Chichester on Friday, and see how far we got. None of us would risk bad weather in an untried boat, but if the forecast improved, we'd surely get a fair few miles under our belt.

At the club bar on Thursday night, with the forecasts still varying wildly, we decided to set off from Cardiff at 07:00 Friday morning. Sheila (Vince's wife, and the other half of Alana's crew), would kindly drive us down.

By 10:30 Friday morning we were at the boat. Paschall and I started loading, Sheila and Vince set off for the supermarket for provisions. The boat looked very sound, and her new Junk mast and sail looked very nice indeed. Inside, she needed some TLC, but none of us were bothered about that.

As the tide entered Emsworth marina, Paschall inched Antares (new name soon) away from the pontoon and we were off.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Leaving Chichester"][/caption]

We picked our way through the shallow channels in Chichester harbour, dodging moored boats, and moving ones too. As we reached deeper water, and with a bi more room to manoeuvre, Paschall raised the sail, and very fine it looked too.

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Junk Sail"][/caption]

 

Antares' new owner seemed very happy with his new vessel.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Paschall"][/caption]

The wind was in the West, the direction we were headed. Not the best point of sail for a junk, but she pointed better than we expected, and tacked easily. Vince had sailed the Solent before, but Paschall and I hadn't, and it was busier than either of us expected.

With the forecast still varying, seemingly every 6 hours or so, we decided to 'play it by ear', and keep sailing, aware that there were many safe ports to duck into if bad weather did arrive. That plan changed sooner than expected though, when we tried to start the engine and it resolutely refused.

We quickly dismantled the companionway steps and changed the battery (we'd taken a spare), thinking a lack of power caused by using the instruments all day was the cause. When this failed, I decided to ensure the stop lever was properly seated, and then try manually opening the throttle to start it. The first option worked, and that was a lesson learned. The cabin was in a mess.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Panic over"][/caption]

It didn't end there, however. 20 minutes later, we noticed that the engine temperature was in the red. No water coming from the exhaust. Engine off again.

I quickly realised that the raw water filter, a clear plastic bowl, was empty. The seacock was on, so it must be blocked. I tried refilling it from the top, but it drained very quickly. In the meantime Paschall texted the previous owner, who told us to refill it, but to close the seacock first. Second panic over.

By this time we had decided to head into Gosport for the night. Paschall was sailing us peacefully in that direction. Suddenly he informed us that there were TWO hovercraft approaching, from different directions. One passed very closely, but there was, naturally, no wake.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Hovercraft"][/caption]

Vince then took over - he'd been into Gosport before, and helmed us expertly, avoiding ferries, yachts, motor boats and strong currents.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Arriving at Gosport"][/caption]

We tied up for the night at Haslar marina, having covered just over 16 miles. There was more bad news - the exhaust was now leaking fumes and water into the boat. When the engine had overheated earlier, we'd melted the connection on the waterlock. With all the shops closed, we decided on a meal and a beer, whilst we examined our options.

Not the best day, but we'd overcome all of the challenges, and enjoyed a pint.

A trip to the chandlers the following morning saw us attacking the leaking exhaust with duct tape and tin foil. Vince did an excellent job, and we left the marina about 10, hauled up the sail and sailed for all of 20 minutes before the wind failed completely. Bad weather?

We started the engine. The wind was fitful, but built as the day went on, and we tacked our way Westwards through the solent, dodging commercial and leisure craft in their (it seemed like) hundreds. We passed some beautiful vessels.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Solent yachts"][/caption]

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Solent yachts"][/caption]

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Solent yachts"][/caption]

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Solent yachts"][/caption]

 Just a personal view now. It was lovely seeing all those beautiful boats, and interesting seeing all the ferries, merchant and commercial shipping, hovercraft, Ribs and many many dozens of racing yachts, but it really isn't me. It was far too crowded, too hectic, and the sheer number of people out there showing off their pride and joy just made me want to get away as quickly as possible. I longed for the freedom, peace and tranquility of the Bristol Channel, Milford, Ireland or Scotland. Too many people.

Finally, we sailed out of the Solent and into Christchurch bay. With far fewer boats and much reduced currents, we had a beautiful afternoon sail across the bay, and then across Poole bay. I think ther three of us enjoyed the slacker pace, and some decent sailing room at last. The forecast had changed again, and was now threatening a force 7 once more for Sunday. Another stunning old sailing boat passed us on the way.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Poole Bay"][/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Poole Bay"][/caption]

 

The engine overheating problem struck again as we navigated the channel into Poole harbour. I quickly refilled the filter and we were underway again, arriving at Salterns Marina just after 20:00 hrs. I cooked a quick meal of pasta with tomato sauce and cheese, although reviews were mixed.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Pasta"][/caption]

We heard the wind rise and rise during the night, and it was far too strong to consider going out when we rose. A quick check of the forecast showed a force 7 gusting 8 at times, with Force 6-7 for Monday. Tuesday was better, with 6s and 7s forecast for the rest of the week. Reluctantly, we agreed it was hopeless. We'd cut and run, leave the boat in Poole and return in a few days time to resume our journey. If the weather stayed bad, Paschall would bring her back by road, marina fees meaning a long stay was not an option.

All in all, good fun, and I enjoyed my first sail in a junk. Great company, and sailing in unfamiliar waters. A good time was had by all.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Antares in Poole"][/caption]

Junk Male

Don't you just hate it?

Not this one, his name is Paschall, and he has a passion for junk rigged sailing vessels. He's had a few, too, not all of which resulted in happy times, it's fair to say. Anyway, seems he's just bought another one.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Paschall"][/caption]

Not a good picture, hopefully there will be better soon. Paschall, Vince and myself are to sail his new vessel back to Cardiff, from Chichester, as soon as the weather looks reasonable. Should be great fun, and the first time I will have sailed Land's end - I've walked it, dived around it and even flown from it (to the Scillies), so, might as well sail it too.

More soon.

Nice sail up, horrible sail back

We got to Dale around 13:00 Friday. The tide was well in and still rising, so launching the tender and getting to Ishtar was easy, easier still with the Westerly wind.

As we got to the boat, something didn't look right. We moor Ishtar with a chain, and with a rope, if one fails the other holds, hopefully. The rope 'tail' was hanging limply in the water. When we got aboard, we could see why:

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Oops"][/caption]

I can only assume it must have tangled with the chain, and gradually sawn its way through as the boat rotated with each tide. Ho Hum. Another job to do. Later.

We unloaded, tied off the tender and headed across to our friend's mooring (Hi Phil and Gail). I'd promised to dive on it and check it over. I suited up and entered the water with a splash.

The mooring was fine, little more work than renewing the cable ties on a few of the shackles. Job done. The water is warm enough with a dry suit, but threading a cable tie through the eye of a shackle you can feel, but not see, in the mud, with cold hands, was tricky.With high tide approching, we took Ishtar in to the main pontoon on the beach. Louise filled the water and we took some unneeded junk to the car. Met Adam on the beach and we chatted as we threw sticks into the sea for Tigger on a cool spring evening.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Adam"][/caption]

 

We had a curry aboard Ishtar and watched another wonderful Dale sunset with a glass of Montana Sauvingnon Blanc.

Louise fancied a trip up the river on Saturday. A 10:30 low tide meant the trip up and back could be leisurely, but with the tide turning at 16:30, running West agaist the increasing wind, it might cut up. Louise set the Genoa and sailed off downwind and upstream. 'It will be a nice sail up, horrible sail back' I said.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Leaving Dale"][/caption]

It was lovely. Easy sailing, the wind pushing Ishtar along at 5.7 knots through the water, with another knot of current as the flood began. Usual thing for Milford, radio on, listening for ship movements, avoiding tugs and speed boats, then under the Cleddau bridge and into another world, with ancient oaks, herons hunting under their eaves in the silence. I love the river.

All too soon, we were at Llangwm, our 'home' of a couple of years back. By this time, Tigger had had quite enough of boats, his head full of seaweed and thick gloopy mud. Louise's head was full of tales of seabass, caught in inches of water, just of the banks, according to fishermen's tales she'd been reading on the Internet. They set off for the shore.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Going ashore"][/caption]

 In fairness, Tigger was far more successful in his search for mud than was Louise in hers for bass, but they both returned happy. I waited on the boat, watching a beautiful Westerly, Swn Y Mor of Dale glide between the moorings. We exchanged pleasantries.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Westerly"][/caption]

With 28 knots forecast for the evening, we reefed the main and Louise sailed us off the mooring and off down the river. Still a lovely sail at this point, sun and broken clouds, the steep wooded valley sides of the Cleddau protecting us from the wind.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Cleddau"][/caption]

 As we passed under the Cleddau bridge and left Neyland in our wake, however, the tide turned, and began to flow against the strengthening wind. Heading due West against a Westerly wind, we switched to engine power as the sea picked up and the clouds darkened, glowering down on us and threatening rain.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Worsening weather"][/caption]

 

Then it got unpleasant. Boat slamming into the waves, great big raindrops and winds of 28 knots. We were held up for half an hour as two tankers, one leaving, one entering, traded tugs in the narrow channel. It was a pleasure to tie up Ishtar on her mooring. I took Tigger ashore in the tender, another soaking, and an early night was to follow. By 22:00 we were seeing 30 knots on the instruments, but there was no further rain.

Sunday morning was far more benign. I sailed us the mile or so around to Castlebeach bay and we set the anchor without fuss. I rowed Tigger ashore - Louise wanted to do a stock check and oil some of the teak, so she remained aboard Ishtar as we set off in the dinghy.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Ishtar at anchor"][/caption]

The recent strong Easterly winds had been kind to Castlebeach, from a dogs point of view. Tigger had a huge choice of sticks - he settled on one that was tied to another piece of wood, so I untangled it for him.

The 'throne' that someone had built last summer was looking good:

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Throne"][/caption]

 

Someone had thoughtfully added some suntan cream, and toys for the kids

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Accessories"][/caption]

Several varieties of lager

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lager"][/caption]

 

And, out the back, a small wood store had been added, for those cold spring evenings

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Wood store"][/caption]

All in all, a well thought out, planned and executed project.

Tigger and I set off up the path Westwards. Met a small group of people arguing over a ketch anchored in the bay below.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Castlebeach anchorage"][/caption]

They seemingly couldn't agree on whether the ketch was one they knew or not. We had a brief chat about things nautical, and the Haven, before I left them and headed back to the beach.

All too soon we were upping anchor and packing. A couple of hours later we were in the car once more, heading East, and back to the real world.

Love me tender

Our ancient Avon inflatable has done us proud in the last few seasons, but is rather bulky, with floor boards, pump engine bracket and so on. I'd decided to apply for a place in the tender park at Dale, and leave a rigid tender there. We had one in the garage.

Over the last few weeks I've painted it, applied some aluminium skids on the keel, built a trolley out of some pram wheels I found 'Up the forestry' and fitted a towbar to the car to tow it down in a trailer. After all this loving attention, I was hence, less that happy to see water pouring in from a hitherto unnoticed hole. Anyway, that would have to be fixed, off for a sail.The wind forecast was 4, 5, 6, or 7, mainly NorthEasterly, depending on the time and source of the forecast. It was a Force 3 from the West when we got to Dale...........Our friend Adam, from the Hurley silhouette Watermint, joined us for a coffee, and we spotted a seal on the nearby floating pontoon

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Seal"][/caption]

He let me get surprisingly close in the tender to photograph him, and even stayed there later when several boats moored. There may have been something wrong with him, although he seemed quite content watching the grey mullet under the pontoon.

Louise set off for a bit of practice, keeping close inshore, navigating the small bays on the North side of Milford Haven, such as Monk's Haven

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Monk's Haven"][/caption]

 

 and then into Sandy Haven, where we bumped into another yacht from Cardiff, Cassandra, and her crew, Karen, Peter and Elaine.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Cassandra"][/caption]

We then switched the engine on and slowly picked our way up Sandy Haven Pill, until we got to just 1 foot under the keel

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Sandy Haven Pill"][/caption]

 

The spectacular yellows of the Oil Seed Rape looked wonderful against the blues of the spring skies, and it was warm, very warm for late April.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Sandy Haven"][/caption]

 

A lovely sail back to Dale followed, Cassandra just ahead of us. Sails set perfectly, we quickly narrowed the distance between us and teh bilge keeler, before inexplicably falling behind again. Peter later informed us that was when they'd started their engine.......

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Sailing"][/caption]

Further up the Haven, the ships and tugs went about their business, one on fire drill

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Fire Drill"][/caption]

A few beers in the Griffin with Peter, Elaine and Karen, later, we were joined by Adam. There was a barbeque, part of the Royal wedding celebrations, but Tigger found the pickings quite scant.

A good day.

The wind picked up in the night and the chain from the mooring banging on the bow, together with the wind in the rigging and I didn't get much sleep. Louise fitted a new display unit for our wind instrument, and set about cleaning the boat, as the wind, and sea, picked up from the East.

She pumped some sealer into the hole in our tender

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Leaky"][/caption]

About an hour later I was rudely awakened from a snooze by Louise shrieking. After all the love I had lavished on our tender, she'd left me without reason or warning, taking our oars, baiiler and a dive cylinder with her. Reason - sheared bolt on the painter line.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="She's left me"][/caption]

With the leak, and the choppy sea, it dawned on me she might have sunk. A view of the shore at Dale through the binoculars yielded nothing. I tried to take Ishtar in, but it very quickly became clear there was not enough water. Louise pumped the inflatable and 20 minutes later, rang to inform me, thankfully, that it had blown ashore and been tied to the pontoon by a windsurfer.

Adam, and Dave, from Mar y Sol, came to our rescue, and within 20 minutes, the leak was plugged with a stainless bolt and some epoxy resin. Dave even zipped out to pick me up in his tender.  Coffee and biscuits aboard Mar Y Sol were followed a little later by a few beers in Dale Yacht Club

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Ishtar's crew, Dale yacht club"][/caption]

The beers certainly helped us to see the funny side of things, we'd lost nothing but a couple of hours.

I'm not sure what I said in the bar, but clearly it was hilarious, judging by the looks on the faces of Nick, Adam and Dave.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="DYC"][/caption]

 

When we left Ishtar, the wind instrument was reading 0 knots. By the time we'd met the others at the club, it was blowing 20 knots from the East, with more later. A very wet trip back to Ishtar was followed by another uncomfortable and noisy night. By the morning we were both overtired. We'd arranged to help Dave and Adam fit a wind unit toi the top of Mar Y Sol's mast, but they had both headed home too, so we packed up and headed ashore.

Bobbing about in a small tender with large waves is not fun at the best of times, but we then had to quickly manoeuvre back into the waves when a thoughtless chap in a speed boat faffed around, not realising we had to cross his bow to get to the beach, and he was getting blown ashore. We got soaked for that.

Tigger was most upset to find that someone had chained a ball to the concrete slip

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Why chain a ball to the beach?"][/caption]

 

We tied up th etender in the tender park and headed home. Not the best sailing weekend.