Snake oil

or, not, it seems.

The diesel bug killer, Marine 16, had been in the tank for a week. Louise and I returned to Ishtar for the acid test. We'd remove the inspection plate at the top of the diesel tank and see whether the treatment had indeed broken down all of the slime produced by the diesel bug as well as killing the bug itself, as claimed in the literature. I was highly sceptical, and, indeed, had pumps and spare jerry cans at the ready, for the inevitable draining of the tank.

After around 20 minutes scraping at the bottom of the tank, and transferring the findings and other tank contents to a clear plastic bottle, the biggest lump of slime we could find was, in Louise's own words 'about the size of a quarter of a full stop'. As unlikely as it had seemed, the treatment had killed the bug AND removed all the slime. Cool.

Louise refitted all the pipes and we retired to The Griffin for a beer with Dave, from Mar y Sol. 

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

A chilly evening, but we were very happy with the day's result, all told.

The forecast for Sunday was awful, heavy rain and force 6-7 SE winds, with a possible gale. We decided not to stay. Louise took Tigger ashore, passing a friend's trimaran, Gem

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225" caption="Gem"][/caption]

and one or two other fine vessels

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Square rigger"][/caption]

 

She then fitted the spray dodgers she'd expertly made, and they looked lovely

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Spray dodgers"][/caption]

 

Before we left the boat. We spent the afternoon visiting friends, before returning to Neyland to stay with our friend Tom. The following day saw the promised heavy rain and strong winds, so I think we'd made the right choice. Tom had an idea for a walk

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

 

I'm not at liberty to say exactly what two grown men with a combined age over 110 were doing hanging off cliffs in a Pembrokeshire gale, but it would have likely made a good episode of 'last of the summer wine'.

Good fun. Hopefully that's the last of the diesel bug.

Another breakdown

We'd fitted the new engine to Ishtar last winter to give us hassle free sailing, and have a reliable boat. The first trip away of the year and we had a breakdown caused by a fuel blockage

Portishead

which was very frustrating, and in the worst possible place. Now it's happened again, but I think we've git to the bottom of it.......

The forecast was for lighter winds later in the week. I woke early and planned a trip North, up towards Ramsey Island or beyond. The 07:50 forecast mentioned fog patches and poor visibility, and they were not wrong:

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="St Anne's head"][/caption]

I have to admit, fog is perhaps my least favourite weather condition. Even the most familiar landscapes seem foreign, and a GPS failure would be very worrying. With high pressure, light winds and warm temperatures forecast, though, I figured it would burn off. As we passed Skokholm, it already seemed thinner, and I estimated the visibility was maybe half a mile now. Staying close in near the islands should also ensure I'd encounter no shipping.

I knew I'd missed the Jack Sound slack, and the tide picked up as I motored around the West coast of Skomer, slowing my progress considerably until I turned into St Brides bay and out of the foul tide. As I switched to sail, the fog lifted, and I could see the tankers moored, waiting to be called into the Haven. I headed for Porthllysgi bay, pondering whether to head through Ramsey Sound at the next slack and then on up to Fishguard for the night.

I dropped the anchor at Porthllysgi and took Tigger ashore. 

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

Porthllysgi is a picturesque little bay about a mile or so to the East of Ramsey Sound, facing Southwest. There are a couple of wrecks in the bay, which we've dived many times, so I anchored under the cliffs. Tigger would like to point out that the bay has excellent facilities for dogs, sand, water, and a good supply of sticks.

We returned to the boat and finished off the last of the ciabattas, tomatoes and goat's cheese. The wind picked up from the North and, as Porthllysgi is in a shallow valley, funnelled towards us. It was only three o'clock, and as soon as the idea entered my head, the thought of a lovely downwind sail back to Dale won me over, and we set off.

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

As I neared Skomer, I knew the tide would turn Northwards again, against us. We'd been tearing along at over 6 nots through the water, near Ishtar's hull speed, but that halved as we approached the island, so I switched the engine on, intent on motoring around the corner into Broad Sound.

When the engine suddenly died, right on the West tip of Skomer, in the strongest part of the tide, I was dumbstruck. It had happened again, at the worst possible time. Several attempts to restart it failed. I was still sailing at 3 knots, and that started to increase as I turned into Broad Sound. My options were clear, sail back to Dale and sort the problem out there.

The tide was picking up against me, but there was plenty of wind, and I turned onto a broad reach sailing SouthEasterly towards St Anne's head. At 5 knots over the ground there should be no problem. When I passed St Anne's I'd have to sail upwind, but the tide should help, taking me into the haven. As I approached St Anne's I heard a huge 'thump' of an explosion. I thought it was something on Castlemartin firing range, until I saw the cloud.

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

I found out later that it was an explosion at the Chevron refinery, and that sadly, 4 people had lost their lives. Made my position seem trivial, though I didn't know it at the time.

I entered the Haven and made good progress towards Dale. I could not believe it when, within sight of the moorings, with less than 400 yards to go, the wind died completely. By this time the tide was going out, and I started to drift away from Dale.

I shouted to some dinghies and their safety boat to no avail. Quickly I fitted the outboard to the inflatable, but only succeeded in towing Ishtar around in circles. I could not believe I had failed, and would need to call the coastguard. At the last minute, I spied another yacht and Kevin, Chris and Kath, aboard their yacht Kaiku, kindly towed me the last few yards, just as, ironically, the wind sprang up again. I took Tigger ashore and had a beer. The problem would wait until tomorrow.

I'd resigned to spending the whole day trying to find the problem, but in the end I found it quickly. No diesel was reaching the engine. The pipe that was blocked last time seemed free - this time it looked like the filter. My heart sank as I stripped it, and saw lumps of black slime blocking it. It seemed we had the 'diesel bug' and it was probably this, not a lump of black rubber that caused the problem in Portishead.

I spent the rest of the day cleaning all the pipes and changed the filter. I used a diving cylinder to blow lumps of slime out of the pipes. Eventually, the engine started again and ran well, but I still had the bug and it would surely recur. I did some research on the Internet (via my phone) and decided to try one of the treatments. Whatever I could get my hands on for now, and then maybe a better solution when I could do some proper research.

The following morning I rang Dale Sailing in Neyland. They had a couple of products so I drove there. They had a copy of a magazine review of diesel bug killers, and I bought the recommended one, 'Marine 16'. I dropped a dose in the tank and let it do its work. I didn't want to risk leaving the mooring with Ishtar, and probably dragging more slime into the now clean pipes. I settled down for a bit of reading, Thoreau's 'Walden', listening to the cricket, a king Prawn curry and a bottle of Crabbies alcoholic ginger beer. Life isn't that bad really.

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

On the pontoon later that evening, I spied this beautiful vessel. Not sure what she was, possibly an old lifeboat?

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

Tigger had had a good run on the beach, and was tired.

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

The following day I ran the engine for a 15 minute trip around to Castlebeach bay. I thought that the diesel treatment had had 24 hrs to work on the main tank, and pulling some of the treatment through the filters would make sense. Tigger had a run on the beach and we were joined by a couple of other yachts.

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

A few hours later we were back on the mooring. I decided to leave  the diesel treatment in the tank for a week and review the situaution next weekend.

A couple of days in the Haven

The frustrating days aboard the junk, being in and around a yacht without actually sailing had left me hungry for the real thing. Tigger and I jumped in the car on Monday and headed down to the boat. A bit of tidying up and I took Ishtar in to the pontoon near the Griffin. Two of the largest, and most expensive looking vessels I'd seen moored there were tied alongside:

 

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

There was nobody about that I knew, but it's nice to give Tigger a bit of time playing on the beach - sailing itself bores him quite a bit, but beaches, sticks, sand and water get his attention nicely.

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

 

The following morning I set off up the Haven. The forecast was for 5s and 6s, but getting better in a day or two. I'd planned to anchor overnight at Crow Pool, Pennar Gut, and had a lovely sail up past the tankers waiting to empty or fill up.

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

 

I sailed up past Milford, almost to Neyland before switching on the engine and heading for the narrow entrance to Pennar Gut. The wind was quite strong from the West now, and, as I dropped anchor, after circling to survey the depth, I was concerned the anchor might drag.

After half an hour I gave the engine a burst astern. Solid, with a nice bounce back on the chain - seemed like a secure anchorage indeed. A small ferry left the Power station pontoon and headed out into the main Haven

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Power station ferry"][/caption]

As the tide fell, however, I realised there was a problem with the anchorage I hadn't forseen earlier. I try and take Tigger ashore each morning and evening. With the falling tide, the 'beach' appeared to be mainly thick mud. Not fancying that, I decided to abandon, and head back to Dale. I pulled the anchor up and quickly saw that the thick mud extended out to where I was anchored, explaining the firmness I'd felt when testing it.

I stopped at Milford, taking Tigger ashore and calling in Tesco's for a bottle of Sauvingon blanc before heading back to our mooring as the sun dipped towards the horizon.

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Setting sun"][/caption]

 I received news that an old college friend, Dave would be visiting the following day, and met him on the pontoon at 11:00. We both agreed that 'pottering about the haven' and discussing old times would be preferable to a hard day's sail outside the Haven. We set off passing Castlebeach and Monk's Haven before anchoring at Langoar bay, Sandy Haven.

Dave was keen to display his expert fishing skills, and kitted up whilst I prepared a lunch of some ciabattas, tomatoes, onions and goat's cheese. After lunch it didn't take long for Dave to demonstrate his prowess.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dave Black"][/caption]

 

It may be difficult to see from the picture, but he'd caught a slipper limpet, still attached to its rock. There are few people I know skilled enough to entice a slipper limpet to chase a spinning lure, but Dave managed it. He returned it unharmed to the deep. He later returned the lure unharmed to the deep as well. He didn't seem bothered, since he hadn't bought it. Before leaving, we went for a walk to Westdale beach, where we briefly spied some fox cubs we'd been told about, and also spotted their parent, presumably out hunting for a late meal for them.

A lovely day.

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.