Struggling

Just sitting in the house. We never seem to have any free time. There is always a huge list of things to do. Every penny that comes in has to be carefully assigned to pay for some more work to be done. Will we be able to afford to do the conservatory this year, now that the attic, garage and bathroom are done? Should we pay as much as we can off the mortgage whilst the rates are so low, and leave spending on the house until we've paid it off?

Meanwhile, we want to go diving. We want to go sailing. We want to go away in the van, drink wine, eat good food, enjoy ourselves. We knew it was going to be hard. We're approaching the halfway point in our plans to move to West Wales, and everything is according to budget, and going really well.

Then our friend Tom visits, from the Phillippines. It was Tom that first got us interested in sailing, and, with whom, we got our first taste of what it could be like, crusing from Italy to the Greek islands in his 44ft ketch 'Perky Puffin' in 2007:

Here was a boat that we could live on. Long term. Here was a boat that we could travel on, cheaply. I've always wanted to dive in the Pacific. Rangiroa is near the top of my list. There are so many places we want to travel to, Galapagos, South Africa, back to Sudan, and, it keeps calling me, the Pacific.

Through Tom, we met John, from Tenby. John bought a boat in America, Chelone, and sailed her back across the North Atlantic:

The next year, John sailed down through Portugal, Morocco, the Azores, across the Caribbean, past beautiful islands where we ourselves have since cruised and dived, and then back to the UK. We often pop down to Tenby to visit John - he dives, too.

Then there are Brian and Sue, on their 33ft yacht, 'Blue Bear'. They left Cardiff in October 2010, sailed  the same way as John, but then went through the Panama canal and out into the Pacific. They are currently headed for Fiji.

These are not dreams. These are not adventures one reads about in magazines. These are friends of ours.

We need a boat, a scuba compressor and some time. We have three or four years to finish messing about with houses, and then we may be able to have those things.

Meanwhile, we work, and read about others who do. We plan, and talk. It's hard, and we're struggling.

I read this, earlier today:

"We shared meals ashore and on our boat in the Marshall Islands, drank kava with groups on several islands in Fiji, played with children, sang with locals, taught school children in Indonesia, picnicked with locals in the Cook Islands,  learned how to collect shellfish and prepare them the local way  in Kiribati, traded clothes for local produce in Guadalcanal, sponsored a model outrigger canoe race in the Louisiades, and repaired a solar power system and other equipment in Tikopia. We took locals aboard from several islands for overnight fishing trips, to visit their ancestral atoll in New Caledonia, took a family for two weeks to a Melanesian Arts Festival in Vanuatu and slept on crowded ferryboat decks on the Irrawaddy River in Burma"

http://www.arctracer.com/

The countdown is well underway.

An early trip West

The club had organised an Easter Cruise. About 12 boats had signed on for the trip, leaving Cardiff on Good Friday, Sailing down to Oxwich Bay on the Gower for an overnight stay, on to the Burry Inlet, North Gower on the Saturday, Ilfracombe on the Sunday and then back to Cardiff on the Monday.

There were two problems for us. Firstly, High tide on Monday at Cardiff was 09:38 in the morning, and nearly ten o'clock at night. Louise had to be in work by 10pm, and leaving Ilfracombe at Midnight on Sunday evening appealed to neither of us. Secondly, Ishtar is a fin keel boat. The others are mainly bilge keels, twin keels that can dry out in harbours that do so. Our last trip to Ilfracombe had been a very rolly affair, anchored outside in the swells whilst everyone else slept, ashore inside the harbour.

Bearing in mind that our friend Tom had an unused mooring in Llangwm on the river Cleddau, we made a quick decision to join the club cruse as far as Oxwich, and then head down to our summer cruising grounds in Pembrokeshire earlier than usual.

We set off from our pontoon in Cardiff just after 6am, the sound of diesel engines drifting across Cardiff bay, with the scent of coffee from the boats, clasped in the gloved hands of the cold, bleary eyed sailors, as we entered the 06:30 lock out.

As part of our ongoing learning curve, I retired below and left Louise to it. She raised the sails and set off, doing everything, checking position, making entries in the log, watching the depth sounder, marking the charts, adjusting the sails, judging when to tack, constantly busy, making decisions, sailing Ishtar the nearly 50 miles to Oxwich, the sound of just the wind and the water far nicer than the sound of the engine earlier.

There were boats all over the Bristol Channel, tacking this way and that, some close inshore, others further out. Louise sailed all the way, only finally switching on the engine when the huge spring tide meant that our tacking upwind was almost taking us backwards.

Louise had never anchored before, and was keen to try. She made some mistakes, but eventually heaved over the great hook and 35m of chain, motoring gently astern until the boat jerked to a stop as the anchor bit. We joined some friends aboard their yacht for beer, wine, japanese rice crackers and other nibbles and drinks, Louise delighted, and rightly proud of her growing achievements as a sailor.

As the sun set over a crowded anchorage, we returned to Ishtar and settled in for a peaceful night, rocking gently, the sound of the waves lapping against Ishtar's sides.

High pressure had dominated the UK over the previous three weeks. The forecast had that set to change. The warm, calm sunny days, with frosty mornings and light winds would be replaced by wind and rain before Easter was over. Typical UK bank holiday weather.

When we awoke and upped the anchor at 6am on Saturday, that change had already started, as we set off from Oxwich westwards, Louise once again helming as we passed the Helwick bank and started our crossing of Cardigan Bay.

I simply could not believe it when, a few hours later, our engine cut out again and refused to start. The dreaded 'diesel bug' had plagued us last year, but all new fuel pipes, switching to white diesel instead of red and dosing that with a bug killing chemical had, we thought, solved that problem. Deeply disheartened, I rigged up a fesh Jerry can and we limped into Milford, our tail between our legs.

 Our spirits were soon raised as the sun came out again, and the spectacular blues of the spring sky were simply stunning as we passed under the Cleddau bridge and headed up river.

The tide was huge. Up at Bristol, the other end of the Bristol channel, the difference between high and low tide was around 45 feet! In Milford, it was a much more reasonable 25 feet difference. All that water moving in and out every 6 hours showed:



Tired, but relieved that we'd made it safely, we opened a bottle of wine. Trying to discover what had caused our engine to stop would be best left until morning - it was starting to get dark anyway. The last time we were here, Louise had absolutely loved sitting on deck, listening to the folorn calls of an owl in the oak woods. As she sipped her wine, tonight, she called down to me 'My owl!, I can hear my owl!'

Another peaceful night. We slept in the forecabin - the new bedding and upholstery Louise had worked so hard during the winter to make was supremely comfortable, and we slept well.

A brief visit to Portishead

So, were we ready? No. You never are. There's always more to do, but enough was enough. It would have to wait.

We arrived at the boat late on Friday afternoon. Everyone else was the same as us. Carrying bags and boxes out to their own boats. I took Tigger for a walk. There are some tall reeds at the club, over 6ft high. Herons hunt at the water's edge, and the occasional mink is to be seen. Tigger loves hunting for sticks in the reeds, bouncing about, with the occasional meerkat impression.

As darkness approached, we wandered across to Mermaid Quay. Harry Ramsden's fish and chips went down well sitting on the wharf, where you can moor your boat via a Pay and Display system to visit the shops and restaurants.

I often wonder about the sailing ships and steamers of past centuries, and the men that worked and sweated so hard, loading the coal, and unloading other goods - the original purpose of the docks. I wonder what it was really like to sit here in 1912, where I now enjoy my fish and chips. More interesting, what would one of those men think if they could see the Bay now?

Anyway. Back to the club, and into the bar for a few beers in good company. Seems everyone was looking forward to the trip.

Saturday morning. Louise wanted to get some fresh rolls for lunch, and I just waited. Low tide was around 14:30, and, since we were headed up Channel, it made sense to wait for the flood to take us to Portishead. In the end, we locked out just before low tide, with a crowd of other yachts, 16 in all, making the trip from our club.

Louise got the sails up very quickly, and the noise of the engine was soon forgotten in the warm hazy sunshine. The wind was from ahead, so we lazily tacked back and forth for the next hour or two, gradually separating away from the other boats as we all moved at slightly different speeds and in different directions.

To call it a gentle sail doesn't do it justice. Drifting with the tide, sailing at perhaps one or two knots more than the water was moving, even the peaceful lapping of the water against Ishtar's hull seemed quiet.

I'd promised Louise that I'd just let her sail the boat. She wanted to do the whole thing from start to finish as if I wasn't there. So Tigger and I made some tea, some Ciabbatta rolls with hummus, took some pictures and did some reading. We passed a couple of larger vessels at anchor, their vibrant colours a contrast to the whites of the yachts.

As the afternoon slipped by, you just knew a wonderful sunset was coming. It didn't disappoint, as we passed Clevedon and approached Portishead.

All this peace was all too soon over, however. The good weather had brought out dozens of boats from Portishead marina. add yachts from Cardiff, and the locks were working flat out, filling and emptying every half hour, chock full each time until we were all in.

Tie up. Engine off. Open a beer. Nice.

We joined our friends Sheila and Vince aboard their yacht for our customary curry. A couple of glasses of wine and an axcellent home baked cake, courtesy of sheila, and then to the pub, where we joined all the other crews, in differing states of inebriation, depending on whether they'd eaten aboard their boats, or gone straight there after the lock.

Everybody had anjoyed the day, smiles all around.





Winter maintenance

We've been busy. Running two houses, two cars, two boats, a motorhome and two small businesses leaves little time for, well, anything really.

We rebuilt the garage, knocked down walls in one of the houses, installed a new bathroom, converted the attic and spruced up the motorhome.

All the while, Ishtar sat on her pontoon in Cardiff bay, gathering dirt and feeling more than a little neglected. I'd been working a fair bit, and Louise had been doing all of her usual night shifts, so we decided to get Ishtar's standing rigging checked.

Good job too. When the Rigger, Andy, came to have a look, he found that one of the spreaders - the bars that help hold the mast up, had broken away completely, and would need to be re-welded. Decision made. We'd change the rigging.

Louise did the vast majority of the work. Firstly, she took Ishtar across to Cardiff Marina on her own, where, helped by Andy, the rigging and mast was removed:

Louise then took Ishtar back to her pontoon berth. My father and I drilled off the broken spreader, and welded it up before refitting it. We made a lovely mess with the mastic designed to stop galvanic corrosion.

A couple of weeks later, Andy had ordered in all the new bottle screws, stainless steel cable and other biits and pieces and once again Louise took the boat to Cardiff Marina where the mast was restepped, and all the shiny new wires and fittings installed.



A lot of work, and a lot of money. Having sailed with a friend who was unlucky enough to have a failure in his rigging, but who was level headed enough to save his mast, it's great piece of mind to know that ours has all been renewed, and should be good for 10 years or more of sailing.

Spring

We've not sailed for over a month. Off up to Portishead this morning on a club outing. Should be fun. There's rumoured to be around 15 boats making their way the 20 or so miles up the channel to Portishead marina. A night at Portishead yacht club to follow promises a few beers too.

Pictures to follow.

Winter sailing, rugby and beer

Ishtar is having a new UV strip fitted to her genoa - it's needed doing since we were caught out in bad weather in June last year. The sailmaker said it would take a week, and he's now had it for two, hopefully it will be back this week.

Our friend Vince wated to go for a sail, to play with his spinnaker, and there was rugby in the bar afterwards, Wales v Scotland from Murrayfield no less. The weather looked decent for Saturday, a ridge of high pressure was forecast between strong winds on Friday and a gale late on Saturday night. Vince asked if I fancied a sail, and I jumped at the chance.

We locked out at 11:30, a few other brave sailors and a few more fishermen were in the lock with us. The fishermen, no doubt, intent on luring the year's last few cod onto their decks.

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

I helmed as we navigated the dredged channels leaving Cardiff, the dredger 'Sospan dau' waited for us to clear before continuing her work:

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

Vince put the kettle on and enquired as to whether I fancied just going for a sail up towards Newport with the last of the flood, returning later with the ebb in time for the game. Perfect! We put the sails up and settled into a nice easy beam reach, enjoying the winter sunshine, tea and good company.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Vince making tea"][/caption]

 I spotted something in the water, it looked like a balloon with an attached messsage. Who knows where it came from? It turned out that it was probably Cardiff - it was a valentine's balloon. Vince let it go and instead of returning to the sea it sailed up and away into the blue sky.

 

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

The wind strengthened and a slight chop picked up as the tide started to ebb, against the wind. We turned for home, but the wind had backed, and what should have been another beam reach had turned into a beat. As the first spots of spray splashed into the cockpit I regretted not brining my full sailing gear, but we didn't get any wetter, despite the 23 knots of wind.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Beating back towards Cardiff."][/caption]

 

Another yacht from the club was shadowing us, but we passed her, Vince's racing experience telling him when best to tack.

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

 

It is, of course, still February, and the chill wind did start to have an effect as the sun dipped. No problem, we were soon locking in and tying up. Before long we were in the bar, with a few friends, watching the rugby (Wales won 24-6) and enjoying a few beers.

Thanks, Vince, a thoroughly enjoyable day.

A trip round Flatholm with company

We hadn't planned to go for a sail. The boat was back in Cardiff and we had anticipated a few weeks maintenance. The sun was out, the winds were light and our friend Tom was staying with us. It seemed silly not to go out for a couple of hours.

The racing fleet were in the bay, hardly moving in the light winds. They looked like a photograph, so little movement could be seen. The lock was similar:

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

 

Engine off at the Outer Wrach buoy and we set full sail. With the wind a few points to the West of South West, it was a close haul to clear the West of Flatholm and then run around with the flooding tide. Louise helmed. Tom seemed to be enjoying it.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Louise and Tom"][/caption]

 

The tide was flodding, but was a very small neap. Trying to pass West of Flatholm on a flooding tide, with the wind in the West was quite a task, and the GPS suggested we would not do it without a tack. Tom took the helm and his experience showed. We passed very close to the island before turning East and then back North, around it.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Flatholm from the West"][/caption]

Tom seemed very concerned about the depths, 3 and 4m and so on, and the rips over the Bristol Channel sand banks. Blue water sailors! Never happy with less than 2 miles under the keel. It was interesting to remember back three years, to when Louise and I were exactly the same. Local knowledge has taken away almost all of that fear.

The wind picked up as we turned for Cardiff, and Ishtar began to sing, her bow cutting the waves. She's not the fastest, nor the prettiest, by far, but she does make me smile when she bristles and champs, then lurches forward, chasing the wind.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="...and the East"][/caption]

 

A warm Saturday afternoon in late September, and everyone seemd to be enjoying the weather. Tigger was guarding below decks.

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

Catastrophe struck as we neared the Outer Wrach buoy! A huge pool of oil in the bilges and the engine would not start. When I remembered I had tightened the alternator belt before leaving, I found that I'd moved the starter motor fractionally. Easily solved and I tighted its loose nut. The huge pool of oil turned out to be water from a leaking cockpit lid, dislodged by our sail, with a thin film of oil over the top, I relaxed.

One of those days when you get back to the pontoon wishing you were still out sailing.

Three men in a boat

Beautiful sunny day. Crisp clear air, with a cold Easterly blowing from the NorthEast. The promise of rugby in the club bar to follow, with beer and warmth.

Vince and I joined Allan. aboard his beautiful Westerly 33, Chausey. Thermals on, kettle on, we left the pontoon and headed for the barrage. It just lifts you to be sailing, even as we crossed the bay, the smiles started.



We locked out with another club boat, Rhiannon, whose captain and crew also seemed buoyed by the great winter sun.





We were asked to avoid the dredger working in the outer harbour. She was tightly squeezed in, and we saw her later, heading out into the channel to dispose of the ever present Cardiff mud.




as soon as we passed the Outer Wrach buoy we raised sail and headed NorthEast. Chausey eased over and was soon zipping through the water with the remains of the flood. We chatted and laughed.

From a boat out in the channel, you cam look across at Cardiff. A beautiful city with a recognisable skyline. Rather be out here though, than packed into the shops.




We had planned to head towards Newport, but were enjoying ourselves so much that we went South of the Welsh grounds and headed across towards teh English grounds. I helmed, Chausey easily controlled by her wheel in the flat sea. We felt the tide turn and knew we would need to head back soon if we were to avoid low water at the barrage.

Light winds, so Allan readied the crusing chute.





The wind dying all the while it was good that the tide ebbed out of the channel, draing us back towards Cardiff. The dredger left the harbour as Allan served up some delicious warming pea soup:





All too soon we were back at the barrage and, not long after, tied up on the pontoon. Into the bar for some well earned beer.



Winter sailing. Can't beat it. can you?

Bangor trip - Thoughts

A truly amazing experience.

The crew mix was spot on - we all got on together really well. Plenty of humour, but enough knowledge and experience to make decision making easy. Huw had done his homework, and the tides, chartwork, pilotage and navigation went without a hitch.

The weather was kind. No strong winds or rough seas, yes it was cold, but the right clothing combined with short watches and plenty of hot drinks made that a doddle.

Teething problems. The paddle wheel log failed, and so did the echo sounder. The Eberspacher heater didn't work initially, but Huw had a fiddle and it pumped lovely hot air for the rest of the trip. These things are to be expected. Even the most well found boat has such issues, and a newly purchased boat, more so. We expected teething problems, and they were not an issue.

Bearing in mind the time of year, I'd say we sailed defensively. We didn't push it, stayed outside the islands in the dark, stopped briefly to check fuel and oil. We really didn't want problems caused by our own mistakes, and we didn't cause any.

And lastly, I think it is something that will stay with all of us for a long time. My particular highlights were the Menai straits and crossing Cardigan bay in the dark, starlit, with Strumble head lighthouse creeping closer on the port bow.

Magic.

New Year's Day Sail

The plan for the New Year sail was for Ishtar to have an all ladies crew, so Sheila, Angie and Elaine were welcomed aboard.  It was a beautiful morning although very cold, it was really hazardous on deck as it was very icy so you had to hang on while moving around.  We left the pontoon with a group of other yachts and made our way to the locks.  It was a bit of a squeeze in there but we got in.

 Once out, we raised our sails and began to goosewing towards Flatholm.

Once we got closer to the island some of the others decided to go around Steepholm too, but we decided to stick with the original plan.  Warmed up with some of Sheila's delicious curried parsnip soup we were a happy crew.

Galipette sailed past us looking well trimmed.

It was a good result for us, as we enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet away from our men folk, so we flew the pink flag with pride!

Vince and Tim on Alana were waiting for us so we could all lock in together.

Coracle and Chaussey were soon following us, with the slowly setting sun, having been around the two islands.

It was a good day for the ladies as we had achieved what we wanted, every trip out without the "support" of our men means we become better at planning, sail setting and making decisions.  We all felt a bit more confident and there were smiles all round.  An excellent start to the year.

Two autumn sails

October. The week before the clocks go back. On Thursday I popped down to the club with a vague idea of sailing for an hour or so. Allan and Vince from CYC were there and fancied it too. We locked out at 13:30 with no particular intention.







Pretty soon we were heading South East past the Cardiff grounds, all smiling. It was sunny, dry, and Ishtar was bowling along nicely under the breeze. This was better than expected.





I've always loved late afternoon skies in the autumn. Today's were no exception





And storms over Devon



On and on we sailed. None of us wanted to turn back, even when it became clear that it would soon be dark. It was such good sailing, and good fun. Eventually, the turning tide started to work against us and we turned tail and headed back East, passing Barry and Sully once more.



Darkness fell and we put the lights on. We sailed on, up past Penarth, a tug swept by in the black. We entered the Wrach channel. Called the barrage and they kindly offered to open the lock for us 15 minutes early. In we went.





We tied up and switched the engine off just after 20:30. All agreed that we must do this again.



The following morning, Louise was keen to get out. We'd bought a second hand cruising chute on the web, so I took it, knowing that the winds would be too strong.

Louise wanted to try and sail around Flatholm. We locked out and she chose a great line, squeezing past the Southern edge of Cardiff grounds. Another yacht had follwed us, from the lock, heading the same way.



A couple of tacks, and we were rounding Flatholm. As we passed the Southern tip, the wind dropped off until we were crawling along at 2 knots.



Allan called on the radio. He'd just locked out on Chausey, and would meet us west of Flatholm.

I'd forgotten about our 'new' cruising chute, but remembered and dashed below to fetch it. I didn't really know what I was doing, but up it went, and looked great!

Louise helmed, as we headed down towards Allan and Chausey in the Southwest.

Tigger and I, meanwhile, were working hard running the boat.



Allan appeared out of the gloom and shot past us, taking pictures. It was lovely sailing, again, but we decided to turn back before dark this time.





As Chausey approached, Tigger became nervous. Was Lilly aboard? Their last meeting had left Tigger shaking with fear. He is not the world's most courageous dog. Luckily, this time Lilly was elsewhere, so Tigger barked at Allan, bravely.

It was not long after low, but Louise took us in through the Wrach channel.

With gales forecast and the clocks going back this weekend, it may be a while before we get out again. We did pass 1500 miles for the year though, which we are very pleased with.