Two years ago, we had borrowed a mooring up the river at Llangwm. Shortly after leaving we had removed our chain. A much larger yacht was due to use the mooring, and her owner was laying her own, thicker chain. When I dived to remove our chain, I found that the mooring block was upside down. Ishtar, it seemed, must have bounced the 1.5 tonne concrete block in some freak swells when we were not there. I had to leave part of our chain, but promised the new occupant that I'd help him attach his chain, and right the concrete block when we did it. I left a 16mm thick nylon rope as marker.
The new occupant was John, and Chelone. As things turned out, he went off travelling to the Caribbean, and has only just returned, so the mooring never got sorted. Now was the time!
Louise and I set off from Dale around 14:00 on Friday. Against the ebb, but with genoa alone, in the 25 knot Westerlies, we made very good time. Saw this vessel playing about with one of the channel marker bouys.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Galatea"]
[/caption]She's Galatea, a Trinity House maintenence vessel, and, if I recall correctly, the vessel that took the stars to the Scilly isles in one of the 'Three men in a boat' episodes.
It was quite refreshing to hear one of her crew struggle to control the giggles when a Castlemartin range control boat referred to her as 'sir'.
A peaceful sail up the river was followed by a quick dive to survey the mooring.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Llangwm dive"]
[/caption]The visibility in the ebbing tide was dreadful. A complete blackout just 50cm below the surface. It's hard to describe the claustrophobic conditions. The water moving silently past, the only other sensory input apart from the feel of the rope in your hand as you descend what feels like hundreds of metres into the blackness. It's only 5m to the river bed.
I felt the block, and some other nasty things as well, what felt like rope and something long and cylindrical. Surely not a conger, this far upstream? I switched the torch on. Useless. The limit of it's very bright beam petered out about 12-13 inches from its bulb. I supposed it must have been the remains of an old hawser used to moor a previous boat.
The block was still upside down. I had no hope of attaching a new chain unless I could right this 3ft x 3ft x 2ft block of concrete.
I returned to the surface, and to the air, so glad to be out of the cold darkness. As it was now slack water, I had an idea. I pulled the line until Ishtar was directly over the block, and then cleated it off. I set a waypoint on the GPS and then waited. Over the next three hours, I watched the tide rise, inch by inch until over 2 metres more water lay between us and the block. Suddenly, from being 2, 3, 4 metres away from the point I had entered, we were 13m away.
Something had happened. I released the line. Louise warmed up an excellent curry, followed by lemon cheesecake and a glass of wine, and we retired.
She was up at 07:00, dragging Tigger out of his slumbers, his dreams of roasting joints of beef and sunkissed beaches, warm waters and a plentful supply of sticks. Off they both paddled in the tender, watched bemusedly by a pair of early morning visitors.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Misty morning"]
[/caption]When they returned, I downed a quick coffee and dived in. The visibility was better with the flood bringing in clearer saltwater, mixing with the muddy river water from the Cleddau basin. As I reached the bottom I could see, to my delight and great satisfaction, the block was now sitting upright on the river bed. Removing the old chain and adding the new would now be a formality, once John arrived with the new mooring chain around mid morning. Ishtar had lifted the block back to the way it was laid.
I set off in the dinghy and met John ashore about 10:00. We loaded the new mooring into the dinghy as John set off to fetch Chelone up from Neyland, some 5 miles downstream.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="New mooring"]
[/caption]I quickly slid the mooring down the old line, shackle first, then dived. Disconnected the old line, which Louise pulled up. I attached the new mooring to the block, did the shackle up tight with spanner and crowbar, seized it and surfaced for another coffee. By the time John brough Shelone around the corner, 15 minutes later, his new mooring was waiting for her.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Chelone"]
[/caption]Louise and I went aboard Chelone for tea and biscuits and then Louise took some other guests ashore.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Guests"]
[/caption]I'm afraid I don't know who these people are, but they were kind enough not to sink our dinghy!
We soon took John ashore and set off downstream, leaving Chelone comfortable and looking pretty in her temporary new home.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Chelone"]
[/caption]Louise sailed us down the river, then handled Ishtar expertly as we beat, tack after tack against the Westerly wind towards Dale. We saw this strange vessel on the way down the river, a kayak trimaran. her owner seemed cheerful enough, but would have preferred a larger sail. That's what he told us, anyway.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Kayak Trimaran"]
[/caption]Another marvellous sunset at Dale on Saturday evening:
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dale Sunset"]
[/caption]We spent Sunday removing excess junk from Ishtar. Multiple hanks of rope and old haliards. assorted bouys, a rope ladder, and other junk, too boring to describe, or to photograph. Left the boat around 15:00 after a quick cuppa with our friend Dave, from Mar-y-Sol, and home.
