The Saga Continues......

    This Saga starts at the foot of the page

(Hopefully I will  find the way to re-arrange entries)

   

The stern bearing was fitted with a ‘Delrin’  insert, suitably bored, but my engineer friend had made it too long.  I couldn’t  screw the bearing right on to the stern tube so had to drive home, bore out the Delrin bearing from the inside and return to the boat, a 50 mile round trip, and 2 hours of wasted time

     Re-fitting the stern bearing required a little thought.  It was easy enough to remove, by removing the nuts and locknuts, and simply pushing the  bolts backwards in order to clear the bearing itself, and then unscrew it.   It was easy enough to replace the top bolt from inside the cockpit,  but the lower one is beneath stern tube and totally inaccessible.  I took the bolt  home and drilled and tapped the end to 5BA (1/8 Whit), and threaded a length of 1/8 inch diameter brass rod that I had had for years.  With this rod offered up into the bearing  mounting hole from the outside, I was able to push it well  into the bilge and, now being able to grab the flexible brass rod in my hand, I could screw the threaded bolt onto the end.  A suitable amount of Stikafix 291 sealant was applied  to  the bolt, then carefully withdrawing the rod I was able to pull everything back outside the stern bearing.  Removing the threaded rod, it was easy to replace the nut and locknut onto the bolt. 

     To access the nuts for the inner stern tube bearing and greaser it was necessary to cut away part of the GRP and plywood mounting for the water lock exhaust.  Just why this pad was glassed in over the top of the nuts is beyond me.  Like the lower stern tube bearing bolt, there was no  access.  I cut some holes with my battery drill and a suitable drill bit, then cut a  piece out with a jigsaw, and was just able to make a hole large enough to get my fingers into, in order to hold the nuts onto the bolts.  Job eventually done!  The new stainless steel prop shaft  was pushed up through the two bearings, without problem, and the prop shaft to gearbox coupling was easily fitted to the inner end.  In case I had to remove this at any time in the near future, instead of a roll pin I used a stainless steel bolt with a lock nut.  Having fitted the coupling, I could see that the coupling and gearbox were out of alignment, and I’d need to re-position the engine somehow.

     Crane-in Day was to be March 30^th, only 2 days away.  There was still lots to do, and actually gales were now forecasted for that day, so the crane-in was rescheduled for a day earlier.  The propeller was fitted to the prop shaft, but not tightened up fully at this time.  More importantly I had to re-align the engine.  The problem seemed to be that one of the engine bearers was bent out of alignment, and when I fitted the engine I had pulled it out of true when tightening this bolt.  My son and I spent some time with a small round file elongating this hole, but that meant unbolting the engine often, and pulling it slightly into the cabin area.  We completed this task just prior to going into the water!

      After  a couple of weeks or so on the mooring, in which time I’d done a few little jobs, including replacing the     NASA log paddlewheel, which had   a badly corroded pin, it was time to go on a short trip.  My son and I decided to visit Cawsand again, 18 miles overall.  We motored down the river with full genoa in light northerly breeze.  On  our return trip  we ran the engine quite hard at 5.4 knots, and there was excessive steamy exhaust, although the engine ran without problems.   The engine appeared to be ‘missing’ at times, when idling at the mooring, and I thought it could be some muck in the  fuel line due to hard running.  Other than that, we had a great  day out for about 7 hours.

      I wasn’t sure of the reason behind the steamy exhaust, so, having a spare water pump pulley from the old Petter engine, I decided to reduce the diameter  from 5 inches to 4 inches to see if this might allow the water pump to pump more water with the increased revs, but it didn’t appear to do so.  I still had the same amount of steamy cooling water.  The engine cooling water pipe had a slight drip on it where it enters manifold elbow, so I  removed the nut and re-packed the inside  with hemp and grease.  I made sure there was no obstruction in the pipe, and was about to re-connect it, when I thought I’d just check the exhaust pipe itself.   I pushed  mytiny screwdriver into the  opening in the  exhaust and  found it to be  virtually clogged with carbon!.  I drilled  this out with a  3/16 inch  drill, which, when it  came out, was  solid with carbon deposits. The connection was re-assembled and the engine started;  what a difference!  There was a huge increase in cooling water, and now it was cool also!

      Usually before starting the engine I use the decompressor and turn it over by hand for a few revolutions in order to get everything circulating.  However on this replacement engine the decompressor lever wouldn’t stay in the open (upright) position by itself,  and had to be held open with  my  ‘spare’ hand.    I thought I’d take a look at the lever on the old engine, and removed the rocker box cover to see how the decompressor linkage worked.  No problems here, it just pinged into the open position and stayed there.  I put the cover back on, and then realised that  something had caught my eye, but I hadn’t taken any notice of it.  Off came the cover, and then I discovered the reason why this engine hadn’t started the year before.  One of the valve springs had snapped!  I could quite clearly see the broken ends, and, naturally without compression there was no way the engine would start.  As soon as I got back to the house, I found the spare spring and put it into the car so that it would be in the boat for the next trip – just in case!  Unfortunately it was never to be needed.

     I had been planning another visit to the Channel Islands for later in the Summer, but it seemed no one who had implied that they might be available to take a week off work was now available.  However, at the last moment Matthew, who is (or was then) the Saturday Boy at my workplace, said that he’d like to come with me, and so I started to make the necessary arrangements and plan for the trip.  I had  decided on a departure date of Thursday 22^nd July, with a HW Devonport at 1540 hours.  That would give us a full week in which to get there, have a chance to look around Guernsey and perhaps Alderney, and return to Plymouth.

      I had noticed  some oily water in the bilge, and this seemed to be drips of oil from the gearbox.  There was no time to do much about it at this stage, and as the drips were not  that severe, with the oil loss at mooring  about 30 ml per hour on fast idle speed I decided it shouldn’t be a matter of concern, as I could quite easilt top up the gearbox as and when required.  Another job for the winter, and it means removal of the engine, just to do a 10-minute swap over job!  Just in case of further trouble, I removed the  gearbox from the old Petter engine, and stowed that in the boat.  It was only a matter of removing six bolts.

     Thursday  morning arrived, and my wife drove me down to the yacht club, where we unloaded everything.  I’d told young Matthew that I wanted to leave Cargreen at about 1 pm, so as to catch a fair tide along the South Devon coast.  He actually arrived about 1 pm, saying he’d been held up getting his hair cut!  I was not very impressed to say the least.  Mary had been on the ‘phone to her sister, and locked the car passenger door with her handbag on the front seat.  Oh yes!, the car key was in her handbag, as was the house key.  No car doors were open, and even the boot was locked, which is an unusual occurrence.  There was nothing for it other than to ask Matthew to run us home, 23 miles each way, and for me to try to break into the house.  Two ‘fortunate’ things here.  One was that until recently both car keys had been on the same ring, but I’d removed one of them for some reason, and it was in the kitchen.  The second was that the sash window in the kitchen was not in the locked position.  Matthew as able – with a little difficulty – ease himself through the open window, and open the house front door.  Car key safely in my pocket, we returned to Cargreen.  It was now about 3 pm, and by the time all our kit was aboard Appledore Belle, it was nearer 4 pm – three hours late for departure.

     We eventually arrived at the Mayflower Marina in Devonport, where I completed the Customs departure form, although  at this time I didn’t know the procedure had been changed, and you now complete the details ‘on line’.  It was now 6 pm, and the wind had died completely, and heavy rain was falling.  Obviously it was going to be a long haul towards Guernsey, and  with the engine running most of the way.  I  had decided that I would make a final decision  as to whether to continue or not when we were off Start Point, 20 miles or so from Plymouth breakwater

     The oil  leak from the gearbox became worse, throwing oil onto flywheel and out of gauze on the casing, (or so I thought) but I was still happy enough to catch this in a plastic container placed underneath the engine, and pour it back into the  gearbox..  The oil leak became much worse during the night, and now instead of clean oil it was obviously used engine oil – dirty black!  We had to stop the engine every 3 hours or so to refill both engine and gearbox, but the engine started up ok each time, and we continued across the Channel with no further problems. 

      There were very few ships and a bright first quarter moon for much of the darker hours. The sea was almost flat calm, with no wind until about dawn, when there was a nice breeze from the northeast, which eased the strain on the engine.    We arrived in St Peter Port at  1600 hours,  22 hours after leaving Plymouth.

     

     The Autohelm   and chart plotter, both purchased on Ebay, worked extremely  well, and it was great to find that the Autohelm kept us on course as it should have, and the chart plotter  was a great help especially when writing up the hourly log.  It was great to get an approximate distance off, and eta too.

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      The plan, on a successful landing in Guernsey, was to spend Saturday ashore, leave for Alderney early Sunday, and return to St Peter Port on the Monday, for departure either Tuesday or Wednesday.

     As far as Saturday went, it all went according to plan.  I had arranged to meet a couple of people I know from the Small Boat club (  http://smallboatclub.proboards.com/index.cgi ), who were arriving on the Cat from Weymouth.  We all met up at the Thai Restaurant, which overlooks the marina, and had a good chat over coffee.  That over, Matthew and I went to the bus terminus, which was just a hundred yards or so away, and waited for the Number 7 bus, which, for 60 pence, will take you on a clock-wise circumnavigation of the Island.  These buses run every 30 minutes or so, and for that price are extremely good value.  The trip takes about one and a half hours, and for most of the journey follows the coastal roads.  The main objects of the bus trip were two-fold.  Firstly, to have a relaxing ride around Guernsey, and secondly to note any places of interest  where we could return later during our stay.  In the evening Matthew and I went to the  Royal Channel Islands  Yacht club, and met up with the Macwester Channel Island’s  representative, David Cranch.  We had a long chat  over a couple or so beers, then made our way back to the boat.  Matthew had discovered that his expensive Blackberry phone would not work here, and that his service provided wanted over £100 to switch it  over for use in  Guernsey.    However, my own very cheap phone,  which is Orange Network,  worked very well, and I foolishly let Matthew use my simcard so that he could phone his friends back home.  I wasn’t worried about the money, but he  spent hours on that phone, and was never around when I wanted to use it!

     We had already decided that Alderney was out of the question for Sunday, mainly because of the extra 50 or so miles’ use of the engine, which we realised was not now reliable, to say the least!  Two other factors for not going were that we’d have to leave at 0500 hrs to catch a fair tide, and secondly, the whole of Guernsey was shrouded in thick fog in the early hours!  Instead, we had opted for a boat trip to Herm, about 4 miles away.    The trip takes about 20 minutes and cost (at that time) £9.75 return).   The fog had by now cleared completely, and  the trip between the various reefs was an interesting one. 

      There are various little gift shops, restaurants and cafes along the road, or rather track, up as far as Belvoir Beach.  Thereafter, there’s nothing, so do make sure you have something to nibble and drink with you if you intend to do a circumnavigation.  It’s nearly 4 miles around Herm, and it took us several hours to do it, but, naturally, with various detours.   From the landing stage at Rosiere Steps the track heads northwards, allowing great views over the Little Russel  to Guernsey.  The beach here is a mix of fine sand and weed-covered rocks, with Herm Harbour  ten minutes or so walk.  This is a drying harbour of course,  and there were several bilge keelers on the beach, together with one unfortunate French  motor sailer which was laying over on its side.  It transpired that   although the owner has visited Herm frequently, this time he misjudged the  entrance and failed to get his beaching legs fitted before he grounded.  Fortunately, his boat was of steel construction, so along with his pride, it was probably only dented!    Following  the track still further, you will eventually arrive at a wonderful sandy beach, Shell Beach (Shell Bay).  There’s a small café here, and several boats were  high and dry on the sandy beach.   

     

     This, and Belvoir Bay, the next bay round, is where you are permitted to anchor overnight, but you are expected to seek permission from the hotel adjacent to Herm Harbour.  You may not, however, anchor closer than 50 meters from the shoreline in Belvoir Bay.   Following the coastal path in a Southeasterly direction,  we detoured inland to the little hamlet of Le Manoir, where there is a farm and the island’s power generation station.  There is a tiny 10^th Century  church here, dedicated to St Tugual .  Back-tracking to the coast path, we continued around the rest of the eastern, and then southern part of the island, which had now become rugged, with steep cliffs, much like Devon and Cornwall I thought.  The whole walk around Herm was  a great experience, and I hope to do it again some day.  The first part to Belvoir Bay is reasonably flat, but the Eastern side of Herm is very rugged, with some steps and steep paths.  And, we did pick on a great day weather-wise, for after the fog had lifted, the sun came out, and so wet weather gear was definitely  out of the question!

    

   

      

     Having aborted the half-planned trip to Alderney,  we now had another spare day, so we decided on another circumnavigation of Guernsey by bus.  Our first stop this time was Fort Grey, a Martello Tower, which has been nicely converted into a shipwreck museum.  The entrance fee of £4 seemed reasonable, although my crew (Matthew – typical teenager) decided he wasn’t interested in the artefacts.  The displays are very well presented, and I have to admit to  having a strange gut feeling of ‘what if I’ when I read the accounts of ships lost on the reefs outside.  I hadn’t realised that it was only in recent years since the Shipping Lanes were created, that  most of the shipwrecks had become a thing of the past.

     Previously many ships passed down the channel between Les Hanois Lighthouse and the Northwest cost of Guernsey on the one side, and Alderney on the other.  I can’t imagine how the sailors of hundreds of years ago must have felt when their ships were being driven onto those unforgiving reefs during a gale.   Leaving the museum, we walked along the sandy beach for about a mile, and finding a beach café, enjoyed a really nice ice cream, before catching the bus back to St Peter Port.  As I mentioned before, you can ride on this bus all the way around the Island for 60 pence, but each  time you break your journey it will cost you another 60 pence to the next stop, or back to St Peter Port.  The bus ride is thoroughly recommended!

     

    

     Departure time from St Peter Port on the Tuesday was for 0945 hours, and so we slipped from the visitors’ pontoons and headed  Southwards towards St Michael’s Point, and keeping well out from there as the wind was very light and from the Northwest – well it had to be didn’t  it?  Right on the nose for home.   Motor sailing along the southern coast, we  cleared the Les Hanois reefs at about 12.30 pm, about the expected time.  It was imperative to get well out towards the West before the tide started turning towards the East, as it was now Springs, and the tide here is 4 to 5 knots!  The day was fine, with really good visibility, and I was able to phone Mary, my wife, well offshore.  So far the engine, which was still throwing out oil, was running fairly well, although it was a real chore to keep stopping, cleaning everything up, and re-filling it and the gearbox with fresh oil.  We’d been fortunate in St Peter Port at one of those ‘Pound-type’ shops.  I bought a 5 litre can of diesel oil for about £4, so had plenty on board.  The chandler’s were asking about £16 for 5 litres!

     We crossed the Shipping Lanes during the night (although we weren’t actually in the TSS),   and there were many more ships  than on the outward journey but   we didn’t have to take avoiding action for any of them  On our previous trip to Guernsey we had had problems with the compass.  I broke the mounting on one side and when I moved the compass to the other side I discovered I hadn’t connected up the power.  That was easily fixed later, and I also bought a second compass.  So, on our return  from Guernsey this time the compass light failed.  Good job that I had the other one!  I later discovered that the thin wire had corroded part way along its length, and not at one end.  I did think it was a faulty bulb, but that still works.  Just a straight forward re-wiring job now.  Another problem I had previously was trying to fill the diesel tank from a 20 litre container in a sloppy sea.  I had purchased (from eBay) one of those ‘suck and blow’ pumps which sucks up the fuel from one tube, and blows it into the tank with the other.  Not expensive, but totally useless!  I got more diesel over my hands than went into the tank.  So, out came a small bucket and a large funnel, and back to the drawing board for better ideas.

     Dawn  broke, and  we were still on course for Plymouth.   There was hardly any wind, and the sea was sloppy.  We were  still running the engine, but about 25 miles still to run to Plymouth, the engine failed to start the next time I re-filled it with oil.  I started up the outboard motor (3.5 HP  Tohatsu) and we started to make slow progress towards Salcombe.    We were at this time just in sight of Start Point, and the coast.

   To Be Continued.......

  

Time for a Change – Of Engine That Is!

I never did find out why Appledore Belle’s Petter engine refused to start at lift-out time  October 2008.  Quite frankly I had had enough of it, and decided that, even though I could not really afford it, I should try to find a suitable replacement engine.  Now the space in a Rowan’s engine compartment is very limited, especially in height.  I looked on Ebay and elsewhere for some time  trying to find a small diesel which would fit.  Each time I saw one for sale I ‘Googled’ it, to find  out what I could about its pros and cons.  Almost all the suitable engines were either old and therefore probably unreliable, or perhaps rebuilt, and therefore quite expensive.  Also, I had the problem of being ashore nowhere near a boatyard, and having to find an engine that might fit the existing bearers, not to mention aligning with the propshaft and so on.  This saga went on throughout the Winter months, and I had visions of being  back in the river with just my outboard for motoring.  Towards the end of February I found a Petter  Mini 6 engine for sale on Ebay.   I watched it for a few days, and there was no bidding.  The owner was asking a  £399 start price, and I’ve notice previously that intended bidders sometimes leave it to the last moment before making a bid.  I decided to ask the seller if he would be prepared to remove it from sale (as there were no bidders at this time), and I would pay him cash for it.  He emailed me back and we had a good conversation on the ‘phone.  So that was done, a private sale for £350 and all we had to do was collect it from Weymouth.  My son and I went to Weymouth on 1^st March and loaded up the engine, which was out of a 26 footer.  The owner was having a new engine fitted, and said that his father, having been an engineer, had done lots of work on the engine, including fitting a replacement cylinder block and piston.  I noted form the paperwork that came with the engine that  the block in itself cost well over £300 when new.    It was a good day out and being a Sunday not too much traffic on the road.  In just a few hours we were home and the engine was sitting outside my back door, suitably covered up.

The following week I went to the boat and started to undo the various nuts and bolts that held the old engine in place.   Three of the four engine  bearer bolts came out ok, but one of them was just turning in its rubber bush, and this one took some time to remove as I had to undo the two securing bolts first.  Of course this had to be one of the rear bearing bolts and more difficult to get to than those at the front end.   The Morse cable, and other fittings, pipes and so on were removed quite easily, along with the exhaust system.  The engine was now free from its bearings and  other fittings and now I had to get it into the cabin.  I had with me several bits of wood – short planks and thicker timbers, a large wooden wedge and two pieced of  square steel tube, about a meter in length.  With these bits of  ‘Meccano’  I propped up the engine and started to heave it along the steel runners.  It moved!  Very slowly it came towards the cabin until it eventually stopped, due to the flywheel casing fouling the forward top edge of the bilge.  It would have been easier with a second person lifting at the rear end, but eventually I eased the engine up and cleared the obstruction.  That was it, it was now free and inside the cabin.  Next task was to lift it out of the boat and  bring it home.

A few days later my son and I returned with a block and tackle, some stout timbers and a couple of short  scaffold-type planks.  We also took down  several pieces of a scaffold tower, and assembled the sections to form a tower which reached up just higher than the cockpit side.  With 2 lengths of timber over the companionway roof, we quickly lifted the engine up as far as we could, and slid it out of the doorway and onto the two scaffold planks.  It was quite easy to push it along the planks and inside the tower, where, using the block and tackle, we lowered it to the ground. The whole thing took us just over an hour.   The two of us easily lifted it into the boot of my son’s car, and we bought it home, where it still is, suitably covered up, in case I needed some  spare bits off it.  As for the replacement engine, I got the son of  a workmate of mine to check it over.  He said it looked fine, and he’d had it running but only for a short time as nothing was connected up properly.  He said compression seemed fine, and I was pleased about that!

I now only had a couple of weeks before lift-in, and had to get this engine  fitted.   There were a few modifications that I had to do.  Coming out of a different boat not all the controls were the same.  The Morse control cable was not right, and I had to make up a small brass bracket for this.  The decompressor cable bracket was the wrong way up, and this was easily reversed, and there was no way of securing the throttle cable, which on the old engine was clamped to a bracket underneath the fuel lift pump.  That wasn’t a problem because I just removed the bracket and clamp from the old engine and fitted it to the new one.  Job done.  The other problem area was with the two rear bearing brackets.  I had to remove  them from the old engine and fit them to the other one.  Again. No problem, but  it could have contributed to a problem that developed later on.   Getting it into the boat was almost the opposite of its removal, and  then it was just a matter of shoving the engine into place and connecting up all the bits and pieces.  Three of the four engine bearing bolts  aligned very well,  but the last one (always one isn’t there?) need a little bit of coaxing.   One thing that I had to do was to bend up the bracket underneath the fuel lift pump as the newer one was slightly different, and the bracket for the throttle cable was too low.  One thing that this did was to cover the heads of the two Allen screws that came loose previously , and therefore hopefully prevent the same from happening again. 

I had run out of hours for that day, and left connecting up the electrics until the following day.  The first thing I did was to connect up the positive lead to the  starter motor.  I thought I’d just turn the key quickly to ensure there was power to the engine.  To my astonishment the engine started up immediately.  Nothing was connected, no throttle, fuel pipe, water pipe or even the de-compressor cable.  But very quickly I decompressed the engine, and sat back in amazement.   The final job was to reconnect the prop shaft to the gearbox coupling, and this seemed to be  quite straightforward – or so I thought.

I had to alter the exhaust system on the replacement engine.  The old one had a length of Vetus hose connected from the exhaust bend (from the engine)and the other end connected to the water trap.  The hose was not in  particularly good condition, and had been cut in half at some time, and another joint made in it.   On the replacement engine there was a length of galvanised  pipe fitted, about 16 inches in length and I thought this would connect to the water trap with the addition of a couple of suitable bends, which I purchased locally.  This pipe fouled the end of the angle iron engine bearer, so I had to cut a piece off this with the angle grinder.  However, this arrangement was to  become a problem later.

I should at this stage mention something that could be of benefit to other Rowan owners.  Although I have mentioned this previously, some of you may be wondering how I managed to reach the back end of the engine, prop shaft and so on.  Well, I have no idea when or by whom, but at some time in her early life Appledore Belle had major surgery to her cockpit floor.  I have a wonderful  hinged floor, that lifts up and allows access to everything underneath.  It’s easy to get at the cockpit drains, prop shaft greaser and so on.  I even made a small platform right at the rear on which I keep my kedge anchor and warps.  I’m not sure just how many other Rowans might have this modification, but reading the various boating magazine articles, I’ve not seen it mentioned.  The original GRP floor has been cut away, and a marine ply cover fitted in its place.  I have recently glued a piece of Treadmaster onto the cover as an added bit of protection and, most importantly, to reduce the risk of slipping on wet wood.

When I collected the engine from Weymouth the seller also gave me a box of bits and bobs.  Amongst  the contents was a used, but in very good condition, Morse control, exactly the same as mine.  I knew that mine had some corrosion on it, but it wasn’t until I tried to remove it that I realised the extent of this.  I had to cut two of the 4 bolts off as it was impossible to undo them,  When I got the control off , the corrosion was so bad that  it virtually fell to pieces!  Suitably greased and painted, I easily fitted the other one.  I have tried searching for a similar one on Ebay and elsewhere just to get some idea of replacement costs, but haven’t been able to find one.  I have a feeling that even if I could  have found one, they are quite expensive.  So I think I was quite lucky  there.

Mast Matters

Those of you who read the previous instalment will remember the trouble I had with the headsails.  I just did not fancy lowering the mast again, and wondered if perhaps I could borrow a very long ladder from someone living near to the club, and use this to get up the mast.  Silly idea, I know, but only last month in one of the boating magazines I actually saw a picture that someone had sent in of a yacht with a ladder up the mast!  Anyway, I spent lots of time searching on Ebay, and around December 2008 I found an item for sale that I thought might be just the answer.  This is a ‘Topclimber’, and is a way of reaching the very top of the mast without assistance!   There was also  one of those mast ladders that you slide up the mast, hauled up by the main halyard.  I didn’t really fancy a vertical climb, so looked towards the Topclimber, with a start price of £71.  I watched this all week, and eventually bought it, being the only bidder, and the seller lived in Plymouth.  Unfortunately I couldn’t  collect it at that time, so paid a few pounds for postage.  I’ve seen more of these on

Ebay, and they  all went for much more than I paid, and mine was actually unused.  The shop price is about £230.,  my advice would be to watch out for a new or lightly used one on Ebay.  The only thing you have to buy is a dedicated climbing line -  braid on braid, 10 mm diameter.  Again, I was lucky to find an 11 meter length on Ebay for a fiver!  I won’t bore you with the details of its use except to say that you secure one end to your main halyard, and the other to a strong point on the foredeck.  I actually used both main and jib halyards, for added security  (you can read about it here - http://www.ybw.com/forums/showthread.php?t=57519, and see a video of it here -  http://shop.shamrock.co.uk/topclimber-224-p.asp  ) .  It’s a bit daunting to say the least, when you first start your ascent, but once you realise your feet are off the deck it’s just a matter of using the climbing technique to get further up the mast.  As I said, unlike a Bosun’s Chair, you propel yourself up the mast, and you can rest at any time, not worrying that your helper might relax the turns on the winch!  Once past the spreaders, life gets a little more difficult due to anything fitted onto the mast, and of course all the shrouds and stays that come together at the masthead.    I also used a harness and strap which  I could wrap around the mast to make working up there a little less nerve-wracking. 

As you will appreciate, working up the mast is not for everyone, and you also must ensure that anyone  on the ground stands well away from  beneath you.  Dropping a pair of pliers could be fatal!  Also, don’t be tempted to put stuff in your pockets as you will find it very difficult to get your hands into your pockets,   due to the harness.  I put all my tools and things into a small rucksack which I tied to a spare jib halyard, which I then raised  to the masthead.  This wasn’t that successful because for one thing the rucksack kept fouling  everything on the way up, and secondly, I couldn’t easily see anything in the bag, meaning that I had to grope my way around inside.  And in doing so, I made a hole in the sealing compound that I intended to use.  This got so sticky that I had to come down, clean everything up, and start again.  I will be going up there again when the weather improves (Feb 2010), and this time I will try using a small bucket and the topping lift.  This should give me a clearer run up the mast, and with the bucket I will be able to find my tools.

So now having advised you what to buy (you should also read Practical Boat Owner November   2009 issue), the question remains of why I had to climb the mast.  Hindsight is a remarkable thing.  I think we have all acted differently before we did something, and even more so if there was any element of doubt.  When Appledore Belle was wrecked in 1998 her furling Genoa was shredded although the furling gear was intact.  She had three hank-on foresails, and therefore I had a new forestay made, which I fitted to the masthead some years ago.  No problems there, but when I eventually purchased a furling Genoa I found that the two forestays seemed to foul one another at the mast head.  To get around this I released the hank-on forestay and lead it down the mast,  lashing the end to an eye fitted on the foredeck.  This appeared to keep the two wires apart, but when we were caught out in the bad weather off Guernsey   they somehow started to foul, as did the jib halyard even though they were tightly hauled in.   When I reached the masthead I could see what had happened, but never expected to see what I did.  The photo I took at the mast head is not clear enough to print here, but the picture of the forestay itself will be clear enough!  The hanked forestay had twisted itself around the furling forestay about three times, and bent itself back about 8 inches.   The more I had tried to unfurl the Genoa, the tighter the other forestay had wound itself around the other.   Remember that the eye of the forestay was attached to the masthead and the longer section is part of the forestay running down the mast to the foredeck.  It was easy enough to unwind one from the other which left the furling forestay free to use with safety. 

The question now was how to prevent this happening again?   Thinking about fractional rigs  I knew there must be a fitting for the mast that would allow me to reduce the height of the hank forestay, so off I went to the mast  makers in Plymouth, who sold me a pair of butterfly brackets.  These are ‘handed’, and fit inside a vertical slot cut into the mast.  They are then pop riveted  and the outer edges bolted together.  The pair cost me £15.  The next job was to cut the slot in the mast, so I found a thin cutting disc for the small angle grinder and practised at home on a piece of old steel drainpipe.  This seemed to work ok, but I was at ground level  and cutting the pipe whilst it was laying flat!  With the generator and everything else loaded into the car my wife and I returned to the boat.  Having rigged the Topclimber, and with my tape measure and marker pen with me, and with the angle grinder plugged in to the generator and tied onto the topping lift, I ascended the mast.  I found it took a little bit of courage to actually let go of everything whilst at the top of the mast, but I had to push myself off with my feet in order to mark the cutting area.  This was straightforward, and I made the mark about 8 inches below the masthead.  The next job was to actually cut the slot.  After hoisting up the angle grinder, my wife fired up the generator, and I pushed myself away from the mast as best I could although the furling forestay was a bit of a nuisance.  Once I had found my balance, it was a relatively easy job to cut into the mast, making a slot about 3 inches long just over a quarter of an inch wide.  I did have to work on this slot with a small file before I could get both brackets inside. I had been told the way to mark for drilling the three pop rivet holes was to place one bracket inside the slot, and whilst holding the other next to it, mark the drill holes onto the mast.  This is a three-handed job and unfortunately, whilst holding one of them, I let go of the other one, and, well you’ve guessed, it fell inside the mast, and there was no way of retrieving it!  Nothing else for it other than to buy another bracket.  It was a few months since I bought the first pair, and now I was told that I couldn’t buy just one, as they were sold in pairs.  And the price was now £20 for the pair.  So, in total that was £35!  When I explained to the salesman what had happened, he suggested I tie a piece of cord  to one bracket and secure the other end to myself to prevent the same thing happening again.  So, with a little bit of effort, I did this, and leaning backwards slightly was able to tension the cord sufficiently to be able to let go of the bracket, and offer the other one up to it, and mark for the drill holes.  Easy really, especially when you’re swinging on a rope 30 feet above the ground, haha!  Drilling the holes was another problem as the  drill itself kept fouling the forestay, and each time I tried to level the drill, I found myself moving off-centre, but eventually I drilled the holes.  Pop-riveting should have been child’s play, but it wasn’t!  I  managed two rivets, but then the pop riveter  jammed up and I had a job to  remove it from the rivet.  Eventually I did manage both brackets, but I have to invest in a new riveter.  Obviously, the job would have been far easier had the mast been down at the time.  I suppose I used that Topclimber a dozen times before the boat went back into the water, and each time my confidence grew, so I can thoroughly recommend it to anyone.

Summer Sailings

The boats were lifted in on Easter Saturday, and I was beginning to look forward to some quality sailing time this year, however a couple of weeks later my co-worker broke 2 fingers and was off work for about a month, meaning that I had to cover full-time for him.  So the first time I could actually use the boat was to be  on a Sunday towards the end of May.  This was our Yacht Club Strawberry Rally, where as many boats as possible headed down towards Plymouth and, hopefully, ended up at anchor off Cawsand.  Having reached our destination, the plan was a pub lunch ashore, followed by strawberries and cream back aboard the boats.  My son, Antony, and a friend were to accompany me.  It was a great day, sunny and warm, but little wind.  Antony and I went to collect the other team member, but he wasn’t at home.  We waited quite a while for him as he had told me previously that he was going to be out the night before, so I assumed he was on his way and running late.   Eventually I decided that we couldn’t wait any longer, put a note through his door, suggesting that he might meet us at Cawsand, and we left for the boat.  The delay had made us late to catch the  top of the ebb tide, and by the time we got everything ready aboard, we were perhaps an hour later than I had hoped for.  With the engine running nicely, we slipped our mooring, and headed down river.  The river is very wide in parts, but there are extensive mud flats to watch out for, not to mention a mussel bank which dries at LW Springs, in the middle.   We were doing about 5 knots I suppose, with the tide, and checking that everything was ok.  Antony was below, checking the engine, and I kept peering over the stern, checking the exhaust and cooling water.  We found ourselves in the middle of the river, where it is quite wide, and I noticed some disturbance ahead of us.  Thinking that this was the mussel bed I altered course to port, and we came to an abrupt halt!  Shoving the engine into reverse did nothing but stir up the mud.  I just could not believe it!  I had been looking forward to this club rally since the previous one  the year before, and it was just such a great day to be out.  Well, I guessed we’d be stuck there for 3 hours or so, and, yes, we were! 

Appledore Belle has a long keel, and at first we remained upright.  We could see the Royal Albert bridge at Saltash, and our mast remained in a vertical line with the bridge columns for a while, but slowly we canted over to port.  It was rather surreal, very slowly moving, with some creaking and the occasional crashing of something onto the cabin floor.  I thought rather like a mini Titanic!  After an hour or so we were over at about 45 degrees, the mud and mussel  beds visible all around us even though we had been in the middle of the river.  I did log the position, and later on at home plotted this on a chart to find that just a few feet to starboard and we would have missed the mud altogether!  I noted that other boats had also been here before – by the shallow trenches  cut into the mud!  So, there we were, eating our strawberries and drinking orange juice, watching other boats cautiously passing  us and no doubt having a bit of a giggle.
  Time passed, and I knew that when the tide turned, there was a fair chance the wind would pick up and  we would begin to float, only to be blown onto the mud banks behind us.  Therefore I got the anchor ready, and as soon as there was sufficient water I got into the inflatable, manoeuvred to the bow, and Antony carefully lowered the anchor and several meters of chain.   The water rose surprisingly fast, and with it the wind.  I had quite a job to row against both wind and tide, dragging  with me a length of chain, but eventually I thought I was far enough away, and dropped the anchor overboard.  Returning to the boat, we waited for the tide to rise sufficiently to get us afloat, and started the engine.  We eventually were able to kedge ourselves off, using the engine, but  it wasn’t an easy job, with the fast ebb tide and the now very strong wind trying to take us back onto the mud banks behind.  We broke free, and entered deeper water , but by now it was too late to even consider going down to Plymouth, let alone Cawsand, some 8 miles away.  We motored down river  a short way, and  then the engine started  vibrating and making  very nasty noises.    What had happened was that the exhaust elbow had worked loose, probably due to our high revving in trying to break out of the mud, and the galvanised pipe extension was knocking on the engine bearer!   Outboard to the rescue once again, and within a short time we were on our mooring.  I removed the exhaust pipe and took it home, where later I cut off the extension piece, leaving only the bend and a union piece on the end.  £35 bought me a meter length of Vetus 45 mm hose, which I fitted some time later.  And I heard later that there were about 16 yachts from Cargreen at anchor off Cawsand and they had a thoroughly enjoyable Strawberry Rally!

The last two weeks of June saw me busy haymaking, to make feed for our horse, so we were now into July.  An Email from our yacht club cruising officer asked if anyone was interested in cruising in company to Brittany  in early July, so I volunteered as crew with  the cruising officer, and we had just less than a week away,  sheltering from a gale the first night in Newton Ferrers, and reaching Treguier on the Monday morning.  The intention  was to visit one or perhaps two other Brittany towns, but the weather turned again, and it was late on Wednesday before we were able to make a dash across the Channel towards Plymouth.  Reaching Plymouth Thursday late afternoon, the weather turned nasty again with poor visibility and rain, and having kept quite dry on the crossing, by the time we moored at Cargreen we were soaking wet.

Whilst in France I had kept in touch with my wife and she re-assured me that everything was ok.  I had previously cleared it with my co-worker that if I was delayed in France he would cover for me on the Friday.  It had also been my intention to return to Plymouth on the Roscoff ferry  if the weather had remained foul.  As time passed and there appeared to be no weather window, I had asked my wife to contact my co-worker to see if he might also cover for me on the Saturday, which, I was assured, he would do.  That would give me another week in which to get back home.  Now I was home, and my wife met me at the yacht club, and I loaded up my gear into the car, happy to be home, but also a bit sad that our Brittany  trip was now in the past.  Treguier was a wonderful place, quite small but full of pleasant shops and restaurants of course, and  attractive old buildings, especially the ancient cathedral, dating from the 11^th Century.  Now on my way home in the car I asked my wife if she had been speaking with  the manager at my place of work,  or just my co-worker.  Mary said she had been speaking to my manager all the time, but had been told not to tell me what had been going on, so that I wouldn’t rush to return to work.  She then told me that on the Saturday that we left Plymouth my co-worker had been involved in a serious head-on collision with an articulated lorry on his  way to work.  He had been hospitalised, and had some quite nasty injuries, including a broken collar bone.    Can you guess the rest?  Yes, that’s right, I then had to cover for him yet again, and this went on until the end of September.  Two weeks later the boats were craned out of the river for the Winter. 

So that was the eventful Summer I had, but it didn’t include using my own boat more than one other trip down to Cawsand one Sunday.

Finally to Cawsand

The last suitably high tide before the Autumn lift-out was Sunday 4^th October.  My son Antony and I, together with an eager  young man who works part time with me, left Cargreen  on  the ebb tide, on a very overcast day.  It was quite mild, and there was plenty of rain around but luckily we missed all of it.   Having now ‘re-plumbed’ the engine exhaust, and  checked everything that I could, we motored off down the river.  During  the latter part of the Summer I had purchased a digital  depth sounder, to replace the spinning NASA one that I had, so now I was easily able to keep my eye on this, and avoid both the mud banks on the Devon side, and the mussel bank in the middle of the river. 

Even before we reached Saltash the tide was slack, and the engine seemed to be vibrating a great deal if I used more than half revs.  By the time we got to Devonport the tide had well and truly turned, but there was now a little wind, and we were able to use the furling genoa to help us along.  Anyone who knows Plymouth Sound will be aware of a narrow passage between Drake’s Island and the Cornish mainland known as ‘The Bridge’, either side of which there are nasty rocks.  A hundred meters or so before The Bridge I detected a difference in the engine, and quickly discovered the alternator had worked loose – almost certainly due to the vibrations – and the top bolt had disappeared into the bilge water!    As we were in no immediate danger, or  hindering other boats, we shut the engine down, and within literally a couple of minutes I had found a suitable nut and bolt, and had the alternator back in place, and the drive belt tensioned again.   The tide was now surging through the channel, and I almost decided to abandon the rest of the trip, even with Cawsand Bay in sight.   Hanging on the transom was, of course, our 3.5 hp Tohatsu  outboard, so with a couple of pulls it started, and we used both engines to pass through the  channel and into The Sound proper.  Within a little while we were off Cawsand but decided against going ashore as there was now not too much time left, so we cut the engines, and just wallowed in the water, keeping a good lookout for any other craft heading our way.  We had our lunch and thoroughly enjoyed just  sitting around for about half an hour, before starting the main engine, unfurling the genoa, and turning back towards Devonport.  We had an uneventful trip back to Cargreen, but at Saltash the wind dropped, and we furled the sail.  The engine still didn’t like any extra revs, but we were with the flood tide, and so it really didn’t matter too much.    I did wonder – and had hoped – that perhaps the propeller was heavily fouled with barnacles, which would cause some vibration, but this turned out not to be the reason.

 Lift-out Day

 

So that was the end of the Summer’s sailing events, and Appledore Belle was to be lifted out  on October 18^th at just after 7 in the morning.  Previous lift-ins and outs have been undertaken in one go, usually late afternoon and early evening, but suitable high waters for lift–out  this year were not   good  and  we had to wait until mid-October for a suitably high tide, and that  was just after 6 pm on the Saturday, and 6.30 am on the Sunday.  The plan was to lift half of the boats, mainly bilge keelers, on the Saturday, and the rest of us on Sunday, starting at 6.30 am.  The difficulty on the Sunday being that it would be totally dark still,  and the deepest keeled boats in first.  I was keeping my fingers crossed that I might be lifted out as the last boat on Saturday evening, but one boat got the lifting strops caught underneath it, on the falling tide, and by the time this had been got free, and she and two others had been lifted, it was too dark!   

I spent the night aboard, moored in the river, and what a bad night it was.  Not really the weather, but I had exceptionally bad indigestion, which caused me to have backache all through the night.  It was a bitterly cold night, no moon at all, and  I had to keep getting out of my bunk to relieve myself of the backache, so I had very little rest.  I finally got up at about 5.30 am, and at 6 am I was ashore, waiting for the first larger yacht to come in.  She came in just before 6.30, followed by a smaller yacht, which should have been followed by a large and heavily built wooden  motor boat.  All these boats, as you will be aware, have to be placed in an exact order to allow the crane to manoeuvre.  I was due in after the motor boat, but word came that the owner couldn’t start the engine due to a flat battery.  I was asked if I would take out one of those battery booster starters, which I duly did, in my little GRP rowing boat.  It was no good, however, as the engine wouldn’t start, nor even turn over.  The owner had a 5 HP Seagull on the transom, and I asked her and her son if they had tried using that.  Well, no they hadn’t and they didn’t actually know how to release it into the water, or even start it.  Also, the fuel had been in its tank since last summer at least! 

Realising that the tide was now falling quite rapidly, I had to return to Appledore Belle, and get her into the creek in readiness for lifting, which I did, along with Antony, who had driven down to be there that morning.  We were eventually lifted out and placed on our spot without incident.  Soon afterwards we noticed the large motor boat had been towed into the creek by a small yacht, but the owner had not been paying attention to the channel, marked with withies,  and gone aground on the mud.  Fortunately the remaining boats managed to navigate around her, and all were eventually lifted out.   I had intended to wash our hull down before going home, to remove the wet mud, but I felt so cold and unwell that I had to leave that for another day.  The grounded motor boat was eventually lifted out on the evening tide at great expense to her owner!  (the photo is of one of the other yachts being lifted out on the evening tide).

Propeller Shafts and Bearings

Whilst the weather was still mild I thought I would take a good look at the propeller shaft system.  When the boats were being lifted out I took a close look at some of their propellers, and did find some to be heavily encrusted with barnacles.  When Appledore Belle was lifted out  I noticed that she was relatively free of barnacles, but found there was some play in the propeller shaft and stern bearing.  I decided now was the time to do some more repairs.  A week or so later I returned to the boat to remove the rudder, which I had noticed had some wear in the  tiller mounting which consists of a stout stainless steel plate either side, with a bolt through the top.  I brought the rudder home and made a bronze bush which I inserted into the elongated hole in the top of the rudder.  But first I rounded it off by finding a suitable length of copper tube, getting it red hot, ant pushing it through the hole.  This worked very well, and it was just a matter then of filling the hole with mastic, and tapping the new bush through, then bolting it all together.  Job done!

The next job was removal of the propeller and stern bearing, and I had no real idea how to do this, nor just how difficult it might be.  Armed with a propane gas burner, cold chisel, club hammer, and an assortment of other tools,  I first tacked the propeller retaining nut.  This had a grub screw in it, which easily undid, as did the nut, with the aid of Stillsons   on the shaft to stop it moving.  Next the propeller, which  fell off after a couple of taps with a small hammer.  The shaft key came out easily with the aid of the small chisel.  The two nuts on each of the  bearing retaining screws came off very easily too, and this left the screws loose, and I just pushed them back and clear of the bearing.  This unscrewed easily, with some help from the Stillsons. I could see that there was some wear on the stainless steel shaft, and my micrometer showed this to be about 8 thou.  There would probably also be some wear on the bearing, which I discovered to be of Teflon.

The next job was to be the removal of the prop shaft coupling at the gearbox end.  This proved to be anything but easy!  There is very little room in the bowels of a Rowan, as I mentioned before, and just how  most Rowan owners manage I hate to think!  Anyway, removed the nuts form the coupling and withdrew the bolts, noticing as I did this that the two halves of the coupling were not in alignment by at least a couple of millimetres!    I now believe that this was the major cause of the engine vibration experienced  whilst underway.  Obviously the more revs I applied, and the faster the propshaft rotated, the more the engine would  vibrate.  At the start of this article I mentioned that on replacing the engine, one of the mounting bolts was a bit difficult to get in place, and I believe that once the engine was in place, this last bolt may have contributed to the engine moving a little  off-centre.  I don’t see this as a problem because I can quite easily enlarge the bolt holes for the engine mounting bearing itself.  There could also be a misalignment  in height too, because I did have to change the two rear mounting brackets, which I may not have fitted at the same level as the old engine.  This may mean fitting thin shims either forward or aft, in order to raise or lower the  gearbox and coupling.  Although I will have done this by the time you, the readers read this, I’ll not be able to test the results properly until the boat is back in the water, probably early April 2010.

It proved impossible to drive out the stainless steel roll pin from the prop shaft coupling, and even if I had removed it, I very much doubt I would have been able to remove the coupling  because there is just not enough room to use a hammer or anything else to drive it off the end.  The only answer was to use a hacksaw and cut  through the propshaft.  Having reconnected the two parts of the coupling, I  began sawing through the ¾ inch thick stainless steel shaft.  This took some time, not least because I had to reverse the blade in the saw – teeth innermost –and cut through it with the saw inside the shaft so to speak,  Putting the engine into gear prevented the shaft from turning, and I cut through a little way, disengaged, turned the shaft, re-engaged and cut again, doing this until I’d cut all the way round, and the shaft slid down the stern tube.  Returning home with the two pieced of shaft, I found that even using a strong vice and hardened steel punch I couldn’t drive the roll pin out.  Only one thing for it, so I lit the lounge wood burner, placed the stub end of shaft and coupling in the fire, and within a few minutes it was glowing red hot.  I quenched this in cold water, and gave it another burst of the same treatment, before clamping it in the vice again, and this time the pin came out easily.  Turning the coupling upside down in the vice I was able to punch out the cut propeller shaft, and remove the key.

There are plenty of suppliers of  marine grade stainless steel bar, and for a meter length I paid £25, including delivery.I thought long and hard about how I would get the propeller taper machined, as my own lathe is too small for the headstock to take the ¾ inch bar.  I could easily mill the two keyways, but the propeller nut thread would be another matter.  The penny soon dropped!  I belong to a model engineering society here in North Cornwall, and one of our ‘senior’ members has built two rather large traction engines.  As soon as I mentioned my situation to Gordon, he agreed without hesitation to do the work for me.  We haven’t discussed a price, but he won’t charge nearly so much as a marine engineer might! 

The stern bearing was proving to be a little more of a problem.  The inner diameter of the bearing is too small to accept a modern Cutless-type bearing, and I wondered about replacing Tufnol with Tufnol.  Gordon, my engineer friend, has a 20 ton press, so no problem in pressing the old Tufnol out, nor of getting the new one in.  We discussed perhaps using an alternative like  PTFE And I went away to consider the options.  A few days later I emailed the Tufnol people, and eventually they did reply, but couldn’t supply  a suitable replacement bearing.  I also posted a forum question  about replacement bearings on another site I belong to – the Small Boat Club (totally free membership, and a very helpful little club ( http://smallboatclub.proboards.com/index.cgi  )).  One of the members recommended a material called   Vesconite, which seems to be in favour for marine–type bearings right now.   Unfortunately when I called the 0800 telephone number I found myself chatting to a very helpful man in South Africa!  He told me that I could purchase a meter length of Vesconite for £41, and it would come from a warehouse in the South of England.  I declined his offer because that was just too much money for material I would never use.  In the end I purchased a 50 cm length of black ‘Delrin’ rod for about £15 (including postage and handling) from  a company called Direct Plastics ( http://www.directplasticsonline.co.uk/DelrinRod/  ) . As I write these final  few words, the new bearing has been machined and pressed into the bronze sleeve – it took a ton and a half of pressure to get it in there!  Later this week I will offer up the new shaft and endeavour to get everything in alignment.   And as the boats go back into the water in  a week, only time will tell how things work out for 2010, and that will be  the subject of another Journal entry, and hopefully of an interesting passage later this year.

Appledore Belle Returns to the Channel Islands But it’s not all Plain Sailing!

Appledore Belle, our Rowan, was built in 1975 for  Michael Hughes, a resident of Alderney.  It had always been  a wish of mine to visit Alderney and see if Mr Hughes was still around somewhere.  So, having spent much time during the lay-up months of 2007/8  getting Appledore Belle fit for purpose, my son, Antony, and I planned to depart Plymouth at the end of July 2008 for the trip to Guernsey and then to Alderney.  We had planned on a third person to accompany us, but unfortunately he was unable to  alter his previous holiday arrangements.

Our yacht club had planned a ‘Strawberry Rally’, to be held at Cawsands on the Late May Bank Holiday Sunday.  I thought this trip of about 20 miles return would  be ideal for AB’s first outing, and even had a volunteer crew member – our local postman, Phil.  High water was at around 1000 hours, and the day seemed fine and sunny, but with a fairly still So’Easterly breeze.   We motored down the Tamar, through Devonport, admiring the few Naval ships that  were in the dockyard, and headed out through ‘The Bridge’, and into Plymouth Sound.  We motored over to Cawsand, where three or four of our yachts had anchored.  Apparently due to the breakers on the beach, it was not really possible to go ashore here, and so our hopes and dreams of a nice pub lunch were dashed!    Our leader decided that the alternative was to cross the Sound to Jennycliff Bay,  a couple of miles  away, where it was hoped there would be more shelter.  Off we all went,  and duly anchored in the shelter of Jennycliff Bay.  We were ferried  to ‘Aquarelle’, a rather luxurious Lagoon Catamaran, where Club members Richard and Christine Bowman had prepared lunch for everyone!  Chicken and rice, wine, and of course Strawberries and Cream!  It was a  wonderful afternoon, but soon it was time for our return up river to Cargreen.  There  were no problems with Appledore Belle, and I was more than happy.

Around the Lighthouse

My son Antony and  I decided that we should take another trip down into the Sound, so on Sunday 8th June we departed Cargreen about 1100 hours,  and motored down river, with the intention of going to Cawsands again.  This time the weather was more settled, and  once at the breakwater I decided we should go out to the Eddystone Reef, some  12 miles out from the breakwater.  With a Northwesterly breeze, we raised the foresail, and   sailed out to the Lighthouse.  There were several boats out there, mainly rod fishing, all enjoying the sunshine.  We rounded the light, and began our return journey under motor and sail, this time entering the Sound  on the Devon side.  Once past the breakwater we dropped sail, and continued under engine,  navigating  around a stationary submarine, its deck awash with busy sailors, all of whom ignored our friendly waves!   Shortly afterwards Antony detected a smoky haze from the cabin area, and, on investigating, he found black oil all over the engine.  At that time we could not see where the oil was coming from, and reducing our speed, continued up river on the flood tide, and reached Cargreen with no obvious problems.  A couple of days later I returned to the boat, and began to clear the mess up.  It’s very difficult, as we all know, to access most engine houses, and I suppose a Rowan is even smaller than most other Macwesters.  Crouching down on the cabin floor, right arm extended along the engine, I eventually found something very loose!  A light and a mirror showed me that the diesel lift pump was hanging off the side of the engine!   The two Allen screws had somehow  undone themselves about a quarter of an inch, and  all the engine oil had been  lost through the gap – there was nothing showing on the dipstick at all.  There was black oil everywhere, but mainly in the bilge, where I had to empty the  oily water into a 20 litre container, to dispose of  other than in the river!    I made a new gasket, and tightened the screws (bolts), filled the engine with fresh oil, and started it.  The engine burst into life as if nothing had happened.  No unusual noises, and no smoke from the exhaust.  Just what caused the lift pump to work loose I shall never know.   I checked it often, and it never occurred again.

Preparing for our Adventure

I had been following the predicted weather patterns for well over a week before our departure, and things were looking favourable for a pleasant passage to Guernsey, and return.  Light winds from the Northwest were predicted for the Sunday, becoming So’westerly later in the week.  My only concern was of the passage from Guernsey to Braye Harbour, through the Race of Alderney.  As it turned out, this was the easiest and best part of the passage.

I  was unable to find time to fit an outboard bracket onto the transom of AB before she was craned into the river in the Spring.  It wasn’t an easy job doing this in a small tender tied to the stern of the boat, trying to drill 4 10mm holes for the securing bolts.  I had already cut a 150mm diameter hole in the rear of the cockpit so that I could get access to the bolts to secure them with locking nuts.  This wasn’t that easy either, trying to bend one’s hand in all strange directions, whilst holding a nut you couldn’t see, and threading it onto a bolt you couldn’t see either.  Antony  was in the cockpit and after a while he had succeeded in tightening everything up.  I then fitted  an inspection hatch into the recess to close the hole.  I had told myself that without the outboard, I would not have  attempted the journey, and as it was, this was the best decision I made.

Sunday 27th July was a wonderful day, sunny and hardly any wind at all.  Having loaded the car with the outboard, inflatable and other things that I never keep on board, we set off for  the yacht club at Cargreen, on the river Tamar.  Once everything was on board, we said our goodbye’s to my wife Mary, and to Antonys’ wife Maureen, and  started the engine, slipped our mooring, and made our way down towards Plymouth Sound.  There was hardly a ripple on the water, and  no point in raising any sail just yet.  We reported in at Mayflower Marina at 1420 hours, where we completed our Customs form, and  then continued through the Sound, still under engine.  At around 1530 we were off the Mewstone, heading  in the direction of Berry Head, but there was still no wind.  At 1800 hrs we were off Salcombe, and stopped the engine to make a routine check of everything before proceeding further into the Channel.  At 1935 we called up Brixham Coastguard to log our journey with them.  At 2100 hours we switched on our navigation lights, and were making  way, albeit only quite slowly at less than 4 knots.  The sea was dead calm!

Crossing the shipping lanes (although we were not in the Traffic Separation System) was fairly uneventful, although we took avoiding action for two ships.  There were no large ships, but we did spot the occasional lights in the distance.    Sometime in the early hours, ( unfortunately I did not record the exact time ) we spotted a mass of white lights approaching ahead of  us off our starboard bow ( No, I don’t think it was those Klingons, Jim!).  As the lights grew ever closer, we decided to make a bold turn to starboard, and allow the vessel plenty of room to pass in front of us.  No sooner had we done this,  than the vessel altered her course  to port to pass in front of us!  She was still some distance away, and had been heading slowly up the Channel, and now we could tell that she was some sort of cruise ship, all lit up like a Christmas Tree.  As soon as we could tell she was altering her own course, we turned sharply to port, and resumed our original course, whilst the cruise ship passed a few cables astern of us, still at quite a slow speed.  So much for the Collision  Regs we thought!   Sometime later, and still very dark, we had noticed, again on our Starboard side, what appeared to be a couple of fishing boats.  Again, there were so many white lights that it was not possible at this time to determine exactly what the crafts were, not what they were actually doing.  We watched the lights for a considerable time, and they barely closed on us.  Just before dawn we decided to top up the diesel tank, so stopped the engine (which had been running non stop since our departure from Plymouth).  The other craft were still some way off, but becoming more clearer now.  No sooner had we restarted our engine and  resumed our original course a large searchlight was beamed at us!  We immediately turned boldly to starboard and could then see that  instead of fishing vessels as we had at first thought, it was in fact a large tug, with many deck lights, with a huge tow, which I can only describe as like a gigantic construction site on board.  I have no idea what this might have been, but perhaps it was some form of construction site used for use in harbours, breakwaters or such like.  Whatever it was for, it was long, wide and very tall, steel girders and machinery all over it, and moving at a very slow speed.

At about 0600 hours we were just North of the Hurd Deep, and there was still very little wind.  What there was was from the Southeast, so not much help for us. We decided to sail if we could, and  switched the engine off.  At 0915 we had covered 64 miles, and the wind was no help at all.  It was still light, and on the nose, so we started up the engine and motored again, still with 30 miles to go.We cruised along for the rest of the morning, still with almost a flat calm.  At  around midday I asked Antony if he could detect a change in the  sound of the engine.  He said that he couldn’t, but I went below, and removed the engine compartment cover only to find diesel spraying out all over the place.  We immediately shut the engine off, and opened up the inspection cover in the cockpit.  Now, I am not sure about other Rowan’s, but ours has the cockpit floor cut out, and an access panel hinged in its place.  This gives access to the bilge, prop shaft and everything else, including the gearbox and rear of the engine.    On opening the hatch we could immediately see what the problem was.  The copper excess fuel return pipe had fractured where it is attached to the injector.  To get the broken pipe off the injector meant removing the alternator, and undoing the other end of the pipe from inside the engine compartment, where it joins the diesel pump.  Antony was soon down below with the spanners and after a while he had removed the pipe.  This is not a simple job ashore, let alone at sea, and where you can’t see what it is you are trying to do!    The return pipe had broken on the soldered joint on the banjo, and there was no way in which we could  make a temporary repair, so we left things as they were, and raised sail again.  The weather ahead was now looking grim, with nasty black squall clouds looming.  I knew we were in for some rough weather, but we had to press on now.  We were unable to contact St Peter Port by radio, but Antony eventually managed to contact St Peter Port Radio by  telephone, and we were able to advise them of our situation.  They were most helpful, and asked that we contact them on our arrival (which we did).  At 1600 hours we had logged 80 miles, and the wind was now Southwest and increasing.  The Barometer had been dropping  steadily.  We were sailing with full main and Genoa.  The wind got up very quickly and I decided to drop the Genoa, and use our rather smaller furling headsail.  Very quickly the seas became horrendous, with huge, rolling waves, trying to take us with them to the north of Guernsey, and into the Alderney Race. The Southwesterly wind was beam on to us, and it was lashing with rain.  Whilst taking down the Genoa, the jib halyard became wrapped around the furling forestay, and we were therefore not able to unfurl the smaller headsail.  At one stage we were doing 7.5 knots, but it wasn’t really helpful.  I was in fear of being blown onto Guernsey’s lee shore, as the steep rolling waves were pushing us towards Les Hanois lighthouse, which we could now see.  So now it was all down to the 3.5 HP Tohatsu outboard, which I had recently bought from a yachtsman based in Sutton Harbour, Plymouth.  We had plenty of fuel on board, and this engine ran  for some 7 hours, only stopping when it ran dry – about every hour!  Have you ever tried refilling an outboard from a 5 litre can, hanging out over the pushpit, in huge seas?  It’s not that easy, but I managed to get most of the fuel into the tank.  That little engine was completely immersed in water on several occasions, and still continued to run.   It seemed for ever that we  were abreast of Les Hanois light, but eventually it passed astern, and we could relax just a little.  The closer to St Martin’s Point we got, the more the seas moderated, but we   now had an adverse tidal stream, and for every 3 miles logged, we were set back one!
We Arrive in Guernsey – Finally!

 It was with great relief that we passed St Martin’s Point, and turned towards St Peter Port.  We advised them of our engine situation, and, again, they were very helpful, asking us to call them up just before we reached the harbour entrance.  Of course, it was now pitch dark, but we were sheltered from the strong winds, and we soon turned into St Peter Port.  There was much bad language from the  fishermen on the breakwater as we turned into the harbour.  Having spent 34 hours at sea, they seemed to think that I should take avoiding action of their fishing lines!    By 2220 we were alongside other vessels on the Visitors’ Pontoon.  Our total logged mileage was 99.5 miles.  We called our families at home to let them know of our safe, but rather late, arrival, and Mary ‘phoned Brixham Coastguards to tell them of our arrival, for which they were thankful.

 The crew of the alongside vessel informed us that it was their intention to depart at about 0400 hours, so rather than look forward to a good night’s sleep, we now knew that we should have to be prepared to move  within a few hours.  4 am came and went, then 6 am, and no sound of movement from next door.  When I did hear someone, I got out and was informed that due to the severe weather, they had decided to remain for a further day, as to return to their home port of  Perros Guirec would be head to wind all the way.

First thing on Tuesday morning, 29th July, we took the broken fuel pipe to a local marine engineering workshop, and were asked to come back later in the afternoon.  After the events of the past day, St Peter Port was wonderful, bustling with people, warm and sunny.  Antony and I bought the obligatory post cards, and walked around the town a little, before returning to the boat.  We had decided not to waste time inflating the dinghy, but to use the water taxi to get ashore.  This costs £3  each for the return trip, a distance of less than 100 yards.  Needless to say, on our return we did inflate the tender.   During the morning we were welcomed aboard  our neighbour’s vessel, and soon discovered it to be a Macwester 26, built in 1976.  Her name was Loupiot II .  In broken English and French, we exchange pleasantries, and the wine was flowing nicely.  Realising I had a spare Macwester pennant, I presented it to Christian Le Bruno, the skipper, and he in turn presented us with a pennant from his yacht club.  During the morning I was able to retrieve the fouled jib halyard from the furling forestay, and check that everything else was as it should be.  After lunch Antony and I returned to the workshop and paid our £9 for the repaired fuel pipe.  It didn’t take long to fit back into place, and it was with great relief that the engine started without difficulty. 

It was rather unfortunate that we had so little time in Guernsey.  It had been our intention to take a bus and travel around the Island, so that we could take in the delights whilst letting someone else do all the driving.  It wasn’t to be, however.  That evening we went ashore and enjoyed a meal of fish and chips in a local restaurant, followed by a walk around the town.  I was very surprised as the number of shops that were now closed and empty, a sign I suppose that the impending  recession hits all of us.
Off to Alderney

Next morning, Wednesday, saw our  French neighbours depart for their home port.  The weather was still a little blowy, but fine and sunny.    Antony and I went ashore and did some shopping for the essential gifts for  those left behind in Cornwall.  Returning to AB we made sure everything was in order for our 25 mile trip to Braye Harbour in Alderney.  I had three possible routes planned, and a forth in mind if the Little Russell was in any way doubtful.  One route was   through The Swinge, but I was a little apprehensive as I hadn’t any local knowledge of it, not that I had any real knowledge of the whole area really!  A second route was to use the inshore route along the Alderney coast, whilst the third was to use the Race itself so long as the sea state allowed it.   At 1230 hours we slipped from the fuelling pontoon, and headed out into the Little Russell.  The sea state was fine, with a gentle South-easterly breeze.  We were under Main and Genoa until 1630, when the wind started to die, and  what there  was was on the nose.  At 1900, our predicted ETA, we were on the visitor’s Moorings alongside  ‘Curlew’ , from Poole.   The harbour was very full at this time, and  quite choppy.  We were shaken around a bit throughout the night, but nothing too serious. 

I was up for the 0505 hours Shipping Forecast on Thursday morning.  Southerly 4 to 5 in Portland, Southerly 5-6 in Plymouth and Southerly  2 to 3 in Jersey.    The day was rather grey, with a strong breeze.  It was our intention to depart for Plymouth that evening, so we inflated the dinghy and went ashore for a quick tour of the Island.  The Dinghy Pontoon was crammed full of inflatables, but it’s easy to thread your way amongst them, and  get ashore.  We looked in at the Harbourmaster’s office, and paid our mooring  fee of £12.  I enquired about Mr Hughes, AB’s original owner.  I was told that Mrs Hughes was still living in St Anne, but that Mr. Hughes had  long since parted from his wife, and was last known to be in Saudi Arabia somewhere!  It would have been so nice to have met him, and  I suppose, for him to have seen his little boat back in harbour again.   On our way from the Harbour office, we looked at the weather forecast pinned on the board.  It showed quite strong winds, and swells, but moderating.  We decided to look again later.

It was a nice stroll up the hill to St Anne, where we bought some supplies, before strolling through the narrow lanes, eventually reaching the North coast.  As soon as we reached the coastal path, the clouds gathered and it began to rain quite heavily.   Fortunately, there was an old German bunker not too far away, and we stood inside it for a while, writing some of the  post cards which we had bought in St Peter Port.  By the way, you cannot use UK stamps in the Channel Islands, but Guernsey stamps can be used from  Alderney.   When the rain stopped we continued to walk on towards Fort Clonque, which is on a short causeway.  We had hoped to see inside, but the Fort is privately owned by some Trust, and closed to the public.  It is here that you can see the effect of coastal erosion, with large cracks in the rock faces, and several cliff falls.  There is an anchorage here at  Hannaine Bay, but I should think only in settled weather.  We could see the fierce overfalls in the Swinge, and there were several vessels  out there, but probably larger and more powerful than our little Rowan.  Up the Zig-Zag path, and we were at the centre of the Island, by the airport.  It wasn’t long before we had reached the southern coastal path, and could just make out  one of the other Islands, as well as the French coast at Cap De La Hague.  Within minutes the visibility had closed in, and it began to rain again.  Yet another German bunker gave us refuge for a while.  This one was some sort of nature reserve, with notices asking us to turn the lights off when we left.  There were no lights, and it was pitch black inside, but we felt our way around from the back to the open front, with great views out to sea.  Leaving the bunker, we returned to St Anne, where we had hoped to find a nice pub for a cool beer before returning on board.  Unfortunately the town’s pubs seem to close in the afternoons, but we did find a restaurant down by the harbour that was open until 3 pm (I think it was).  It was still showery, but we did enjoy our beer.  From here we returned to the Harbour Office Notice board, and looked again at  the weather forecast.  This had improved somewhat, with both seastate and winds moderating.  We returned to the boat, and decided on a few hours’ rest before our departure.

At around 7 pm we ventured ashore again, and looked around  Little Crabby Harbour and the Admiralty Breakwater.  On our return we again read the Weather Forecast at the Harbourmaster’s Office, which showed that the sea state and wind  was again expected to moderate.  So, with this in mind we decided to go for home.  Returning to AB, we deflated the dinghy and secured it on the foredeck.  Sails were made ready and engine checks made.  Knowing that it would be a pitch dark night, and a very long haul I made a vacuum flask of hot oxo, which would keep us going in the dark, chilly small hours.  The flask and everything else was stowed away into every nook and cranny, and  then we had a final cup of tea.

Homeward Bound – More Adventures!

I had originally decided to depart at just before the tide changed in our favour, at around 2130 hours.  The weather was now looking nasty again, and closing in, so we decided not to wait, but to leave straight away, and take a chance with the tides.   At 2035 hours we hoisted our main, and with the engine running left the security of our mooring, and headed out of Braye.  Once the Alderney Lighthouse was abeam, we turned onto our  course, which was Northwesterly  for 5 miles in order to stay well clear of Burhou and  the Great Nannel rocks.  At 2200 hrs we altered our course to due West (270 deg).  It was at this time that we encountered very strong headwinds and rolling seas.  We were now, of course, in a wind over tide situation, but there was no turning back.  The tide was running at between 3 and 4 knots.  It seemed to take for ever to leave the Casquets Light behind us, but it slowly passed abeam – very slowly.  On this course we were running down the edge of the TSS, in the Inshore Traffic Zone.  We were amazed at the number of ships passing to starboard, heading up Channel.  Light after light after light, but we never actually saw one until reaching the Western end of the TSS, at around 0530.  We had logged 24 miles from Braye, and taken about 9 hours!  It had of course been impossible to sail on that course as we were virtually head to wind, but now we were altering our course to Northwesterly (300 deg), to cross the Channel at the Western end of the TSS. 

We now discovered more problems, and found that the forestay and the furling forestay had somehow become entwined.  We couldn’t set any hanked-on sails at all, and could only use a very small proportion of the furling headsail.  All we could do was sail as close to the wind as we could.  We were making about 4 knots most of the time, but being severely headed to the Northeast.  We saw the occasional large ship, mainly behind us, and were never in any danger from them.  One or two larger yachts passed on our port side, heading towards Plymouth, and obviously much closer on the wind than we were.  The seas were large, rolling waves, with extremely deep troughs between them, but we felt quite secure  and I was very pleased at the robustness of the Rowan.  We had known all along that Rowans, in particular, do not sail very close to the wind, and all the time we were being pushed off course to the northeast.  We hadn’t had anything to eat or drink, save for some chocolate, since our departure, and I went down into the cabin to find the flask of hot Oxo drink.  What a mess!  Everything that could have moved had done so.  Most was on the cabin floor including the flask.  Well, of course, as soon as I picked it up I could hear a thousand shards of glass rattling away inside it.  I won’t tell you where it went!! It was just impossible to stand up inside, and I was bashed around considerably.  Just as I was going to enter the cabin a large wave caught us and threw me against the compass, which broke off its mounting.  The compass was ok and I placed it on the starboard mounting, so it shouldn’t have been a problem, but it did become one later on.    We carried on all day long just trying to sail as close to the wind as we could.  Antony tried to have some sleep, and I cat napped for some time, only opening my eyes when I felt the boat  sailing too close to the wind, or actually bearing away.  It was very difficult trying to refill the diesel fuel tank whilst underway and in those seas.  We had fuel in a 20 litre container, and I had to try and pour it into a funnel, and into the fuel filler.   I watched for  each large wave and stopped pouring before they reached us, but the wind was so strong that some diesel was whipped up and fell inside the cockpit.  At one time I slipped on the diesel with both feet, and fell heavily jarring my back against the stern.  I remember thinking how lucky I was not to have fallen and caused serious injury to myself.  My back was bruised for some days afterwards!

Around  1800 hours we spotted land, and this was Dartmouth.  We decided that we could   still make Plymouth in the early hours, and altered our course to head back out of  Lyme Bay.  This was a bad decision, but on reflection I hate to think of what could  have gone wrong next day when I was heading for Plymouth on my own!  It took ages to back track, and the seas were still huge, and the wind still strong, So’westerly.  Sometime afterwards, at home, I was able to look at all the events, wind, waves and tidal conditions, and it was easy to see why we eventually got into so much trouble.  After back tracking for some distance (but probably making little headway – in fact I now think that we were going backwards!!), we altered course again, and thought we were well clear of Start Point (no light was visible at this time.  In fact, we were actually off Start Bay.  It was now pitch black, and all we could see was land lights.  We were tired, getting cold and obviously disorientated.  Having damaged the port compass mounting  earlier and placing the compass on the starboard bracket we now had further problems.  Firstly, I had not connected this mounting for an electrical socket, and so we could not see the compass without shining a torch on it.  Furthermore, the mounting was placed too high up on the cabin bulkhead, and we couldn’t steer and read the compass without difficulty.  During the day it had been OK, but not at night, and without a compass light.  Both these problems have since been rectified, and I even have a second compass so there is no need to change the one compass for different tacks.    Our hand held Garmin GPS was showing a course for Plymouth, but over the land!  And now the engine started to play up, gradually losing power.  Well, the trusty outboard had seen us into St Peter Port, and this was a similar situation wasn’t it?  We were just not making any headway, and I couldn’t make sense of the situation.  Nothing else to do, but to call Brixham Coastguard and advise them of our situation.  They were very understanding, and asked if we needed assistance, but I said we would continue if we could, and with that the engine died!  I told the Coastguard that we would continue, using the outboard, which we did for a while.  Unfortunately the outboard also gave up eventually, and that was that!  Another call to the Coastguard, and now we requested assistance.

RNLI To The Rescue!

It took what seemed for ever for the  Lifeboat to contact us, but actually it wasn’t!   It was certainly a great relief to know that these guys were out there, on their way to give us a tow, at that time in the early hours!  Eventually we spotted their lights, and I shone my bright steamer scarer towards them.  Closer and closer they came, and eventually they threw us a heaving line, with a tow rope attached, which I secured to the bow.  Within minutes we were on our way at a fair speed towards Salcombe.  Well, I thought, it’s a bit closer to Plymouth than Brixham!  At about 0300 hours we were alongside the Harbourmaster’s pontoon in Salcombe, and were greeted by a very pleasant Peter Hodges, who  was at that time the co-ordinator (or something like that) for the Salcombe Lifeboat.  Some of the crew also came by to ensure we were ok, which we were.  We were up about 0700 hours, and waiting for the Harbourmaster to find out about  marine engineers in the town.  Also, Antony wanted to jump ship, and get to Plymouth, so we needed to get a taxi for him.  That wasn’t a problem – the taxi or him leaving me!  The Harbourmaster was excellent, and gave me the details of a couple of marine engineers.  He also said, considering our adventure, he’d waive the mooring fee for the day!  I ‘phoned one of the engineers, who replied that he was actually away in Wales.  The other one,  Jamie (RJ Marine) was with me by 1030 hours.  It didn’t take him long to find the problem with  the engine.  There was a diesel fuel filter behind the water pump pulley, and this was completely fouled up.  Also there was obviously water in the fuel, which wasn’t surprising considering the  way I had to  re-fill the diesel fuel tank on passage.  A couple of hour’s work, and £50, and the job was done.  The engine started ok, but Jamie seemed to think it should have had more revs than it did.  I also recall that someone on the pontoon said about a smoky exhaust, which at the time we both put down to  recent events with the engine.  A couple of  crew members of the Lifeboat came down to the pontoon to see if everything was ok, and I thanked them again  for their  help.  Needless to say, I have since made a couple of cash donations to RNLI Salcombe  and when I win the Lottery, I will send them a larger cheque!

The Saturday morning  was fine and bright, and warm too.  I tried to see what the problem was with the forestay, but just couldn’t make it out.  I even undid it from the bow roller, but it just did not want to untwine itself from the top of the mast.  I got the outboard  cleaned and refuelled, and it started ok.  I went to  the Harbourmaster’s Office to check the weather forecast, and  to thank them again for their help.  At 1330 I motored off down the river and over, or around,  The Bar.  The sea state seemed  more settled,  but as soon as I was around Bolt Head I discovered that it wasn’t much different to the  night before!  I called Brixham Coastguard to advise them of my departure and ETA Plymouth, which was approximately 6 hours’ time.  I kept well off the coast just in case of more engine problems, although there were none.   The waves were steeper now than they had been,  as I was closer to the land.  At one time Appledore was knocked over almost onto her starboard side by a rogue wave.  I thought at the time that it would have been ironic for me to end up in the water on the homeward leg, considering what Antony and I had been through already.   There were several other yachts passing, in both directions, and it was reassuring to know they were there.  It was now that I realised that had we  gone into Dartmouth,  the engine would  at some time have conked out, and we may well have found ourselves (or me on my own!) on a lee shore.  Where we had been off Dartmouth was not really a problem, but somewhere off Salcombe may well have been!  After Bolt Tail, I could make out Rame Read and kept Appledore heading towards it, then towards Cawsands.  I had already decided not to enter the Sound through the Eastern passage, again to avoid the outlying rocks and lee shore, but to head over to the Cornish side, and through the more sheltered Western passage.  Having passed the Mewstone, I could not make out the Breakwater.  Visibility  was a little hazy, but I just couldn’t see it.  When I rounded the lighthouse at the Western end, I found the breakwater completely awash.  I had never been here at  a high tide such as this, and  was thankful that I hadn’t attempted to motor over it – as if I would!  The sea here was almost a dead calm, and it wasn’t long before I was alongside at Mayflower Marina, where I stopped off to hand in my Customs form.  I called Brixham Coastguard, to let them know of my safe arrival at 2000 hours, exactly 6 hours after my first call.  The tide was now on the ebb, and I started the main engine, and then the outboard, which together pushed me up river to Cargreen at between 5 and 5.5 knots.  An hour later I was on my mooring, and tidying everything away. 

This was the last Summer trip we had on Appledore Belle.  I had intended to do some sorting out, and perhaps do some more local trips, but at the beginning of September  I was asked to go into work full time (6 day week) as my co-worker had broken his wrist, and would be off work for up to 3 months!  So the boat lay on her mooring  until the end of the month, until lift-out day on September 29th.  I went down to the boat during the Sunday, to prepare for the lift-out, and to start the engine.  It started without problem.  On the Monday, we went down and took the outboard  just in case, and a good job too.  The boat engine refused to start, and it has never started again to this day!  We were saved by the outboard once again.

My wife asks me why I have spent so long writing up this account of the journey.  I have done it for at least two reasons.  Firstly, to remind me of how things went wrong, and how we coped.  Secondly, to remind me to carry out  checks more thoroughly, and to ensure I can cope more easily with things like refuelling whilst underway.  And, I suppose, a third reason is to tell you, the readers, so that perhaps you will also be better prepared than we were, even though I had done all the checks, etc, that I thought needed to be done before the journey.  Asking Brixham Coastguard for assistance was, I think, the only sensible thing to do,  although I still feel rather guilty about having to do so.  I felt more at ease about it when, in the September issue of ‘Practical Boat Owner’, I read that Michael Buerk, the  well known TV presenter was himself rescued by the RNLI  off Lymington, when his own  yacht’s engine failed.

There is more to this story, but I think I will leave that for another  page entry!

Next Episode:

Fouled air filter from engine oil.
Another engine and changing parts
Changing all filters
Twisted forestay
Purchase of Top Climber.