Small Boat Heroes (and Heroines)

There are sailing and boating heroes, people we all know, whose names are spoken only in hushed reverential terms – Chay Blithe, Joshua Slocum, Francis Chichester. But then there are others, less famous perhaps, but equally deserving of the title. One such couple is Dave and Natalie. Did they sail non-stop around the world against all prevailing winds and currents? Did they pass through Drakes Passage or take the long route around Cape Horn?

Nope, they did something far more adventurous. They cooked a four course Christmas Dinner on board their partially restored English Narrow boat on the deepest darkest reaches of the Isle et Villaine canal somewhere in Brittany. I was witness to their achievement and I can confirm it was the best Christmas dinner I have ever eaten!

The boat was bedecked with lights and garlands, the Champagne was served perfectly chilled after having rested in the cockpit for a few hours and the cabin was a haven of tropic heat thanks to the efforts of the driftwood burning stove which burned brightly throughout the evening. The electric cooker was powered by an extension lead connected to a socket in a public toilet further along the towpath.

We had – home-made salmon pate with country bread, roast free-range chicken with vegetables

cooked in the pan juices, pork, chestnut and cranberry stuffing, and all the trimmings. For dessert we had spiced bread and butter pudding. There was also a cheese course but no-one could manage it. 

There was beer,Champagne, white Muscadet and Red Bordeaux. Crackers were pulled, stories were told and presents were exchanged. 

Then a tot of Monkey’s Shoulder Whiskey set us up for the trip home along the towpath, not drunk but pretty mellow, full of food and good cheer. It doesn’t get better than that – Merry Christmas everyone!

Seaward

Reasons to Renovate an Old Boat

I was contacted the other day by a guy in Wales who is about to embark on the restoration of an old Westerly Nomad like mine. His mail suggested that he knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. It also suggested that he had given a great deal of thought to the project so I have every confidence that he’ll do well. His note led me to consider why some people restore boats and why other people should give serious though to it before rushing out to buy the latest version from the jelly-mould. Here are a few ideas I cam up with.

The green argument: building a boat requires a significant use of resources. Why pollute the planet more by commissioning a new vessel when an old boat (which has already made its footprint) can be recycled and restored? Your restoration could give that old boat another twenty years of useful life – beat the man, beat the consumerists, save the planet and enjoy!

A lack of choice among more modern boats: do you want a powerboat which looks like it was pressed out of a jelly-mould, or a Bermudan sloop? That seems to be the choice among production line boats. Demand something different and you have to pay big money – look at the new or second-hand cost of a Cornish Shrimper.  Why pay more for a ‘look’ when the original vessel may be for sale in a creak somewhere near you. Essentially, older boats offer a wider spectrum of choice.

The option of reconfiguring to suit your personal needs: Do you really want four berths in the cabin or would two with an enlarged galley area suit you better? If you renovate, the choice is yours. The guy I refer to above is a single handed sailor. He doesn’t need four berths, but he does want an enlarged galley with a decent sized cooker, sink and working area. Try finding that option on a new boat!

The beauty and charm of a well cared for older boat: Old boats, even GRP vessels, can be classic craft. The same attraction that turns heads when a classic MGB roadster or an E Type Jaguar zips past, applies to boats. Just like vintage cars, there is something very attractive about a well cared for classic boat.

Deferring the cost: Buy a new boat or even a second hand one in decent condition and you’ll be expected to pay for her immediately. Restore an old boat and you spread the cost over a longer time-span, a pot of paint today a hank of rope next month. The longer it takes to bring the boat back, the longer you have to find the money.

Something about individuality: There is something special about a sailor. The call of the sea is a call to freedom, self reliance and standing away from the herd – and yet many of these individuals and freedom lovers drift or charge around the coast in jelly moulds – mass produced, all looking pretty similar. Take an old boat, renovate her, and you are sailing a classic. Yes she may have been mass produced at one time – but in those days mass production was defined in hundreds not thousands – and anyway there aren’t so many of them left. Stamp your own personality on your renovation and you have an individualist’s boat owned and sailed by an individualist. People will understand and respect that – even if they can’t articulate it.

Finally What is the alternative?: Well, an unloved and old GRP boat is broken up and scrapped. Not necessarily so bad – until you consider the scrapping options – they are few and far between. For a start, you can’t burn it. Burning GPR puts a huge and unacceptable volume of toxins into the air. You could, of course cut it up and put it in landfill, but it will be there for thousands of years. GRP isn’t exactly an inert material but it’s pretty close to it.

So there you have it Seaward’s excuse for doing what he’s doing. In truth, it’s satisfying occupation, a bit like gardening I suppose. There is a pleasure to be taken from achieving results, especially when you can sit back on a warm summer’s evening after a day’s work with a cold beer in your hand. A time to dream of gentle breezes and think of the voyages to come.

Seaward

Practical Advice for Boat Renovators

People who renovate old boats are dreamers, romantics and often, escapists. That’s fine – I openly admit to being all three. As a writer they are valuable assets, necessary almost, but when it comes to renovating an old boat their use is strictly limited. Dreams are good motivators. The ‘romance’ of the sea, the escape from the boring, mundane everyday existence, provides the reason for our investment of time and money in such projects.

Beyond that however, these traits become something else, something almost dangerous. They convince us to take up lost causes; they assure us that the investment is worthwhile, that all will come out right in the end, and worst of all, they make us overlook our own inadequacies. We begin to believe that we are capable of achieving the impossible. People like us don’t see rotting derelict hulks, flaking paint and dripping rusty iron – oh no, we see ‘potential’.

There are many waypoints along the road from ‘Dreamland’ to the land of ‘Achievement’ – places with names such as frustration, ignorance, lack of resources, incapability and over-investment. It’s a long road, longer than you think, and dreams don’t last forever. At some point, you have to let reality in. Most of us do this far too late.

So the advice? Open your eyes take a deep breath and ask yourself if you can really do this:

put down that book about blue water voyaging and pick up a practical text on how to rewire 12 volt system;

check out the cost of tools you’ll need – then double it;

estimate the cost of the materials you’ll need – then double it;

consider the amount of time you’ll need – then double it.

By way of example here is my experience of boat renovation. My boat is a Westerly Nomad, 23ft in length, built in 1967. Sanding, cleaning, painting, polishing the GRP exterior, rebuilding the hatches, and installing a new electrical system took eighteen months. I was fortunate in that I didn’t have a day-job or young children to distract me. When I say eighteen months – I’m talking, on average, three days a week. In winter I couldn’t feel my fingers and in spring I was eaten alive by mosquitoes.

I launched at the end of last summer and the cabin was like a slum. This year I have been working on that interior, eating wood and paint dust despite the face-mask. I hope to finish by mid-summer (or I won’t finish at all because it will be too hot to work or paint in there by then) and then – guess what? The exterior wood will need re-varnishing and she’ll need a haul-out for anti-fouling. There is a term for a job that never ends but I can’t remember it and I’m too weary to look it up.

So there is the advice – stop dreaming and start thinking practically now. But you won’t of course. You’re a dreamer, a romantic and an escapist – and without you – these old boats wouldn’t have a chance.

Seaward

Low Spot

I suppose there comes a time in every project when you wonder whether you should ever have begun; a low spot when the tasks seem overwhelming and never ending. I’m surprised to have arrived at this point so late in the process – a lot of the boring cleaning, sanding and polishing and painting has been done and I now seem to be in a phase of having to undertake dozens of small tasks. This should be more interesting than the months of mindless sanding but at the moment the boat seems to be fighting me every step of the way.

Nothing is straight forward at the moment and every task seems to require a good deal of lateral thinking in order to establish a process which will lead to a satisfactory outcome. Fitting sliding hatch doors in the cockpit for example, turned out to be a real time consuming pain. The runners obviously had to be parallel to allow the doors to slide but there wasn’t a single right angle to be found anywhere. I got through the job but there were several sleepless nights spent trying to develop a method. Now the latest problem is refitting halyards to the mast. The ropes came in a sail bag so it is guesswork as to each rope’s function and they were pulled through internal mast pulleys. To date I have spent two days trying to get the ropes back through and round. I’ll try again tomorrow with three new ideas – just hope one of them works.

None of this is helped by the fact that it is now June and I want to be on the water. Added to that I have to go to the UK for two weeks to see family, deadlines are being missed and it is all very frustrating.

 

So to cheer myself up I have just spent an hour looking at pics – before and after - and I can certainly say I have made real improvements to the old tub – I shouldn't moan – and if I can get those halyards fitted tomorrow I may feel better – meanwhile family and friends have been advised not to talk about the bloody boat!

Seaward

A Stroll Around the Boatyard

Weather has been so good recently I took time out to stroll around the boatyard and was pleasantly

surprised to note that I now seem to have the shiniest boat around, even though she is cloaked in fine dust from gel coat sanding and polishing.

Anyway here is an interesting boat that I came across. Her owner brought her up on the top of the tide careened and antifouled her.

She’s interesting in that I guess she reflects the passion (often misplaced or misapplied) that us boating folks seem to develop. For many of us sailing is only half the story. The other half is about boat ownership – and not just any old boat. In my case it’s a passion for an old Westerly Nomad – not the prettiest or fastest of boats, not even the best design that her architect came up with, but when I’ve finished with her, she’ll certainly turn heads, even if only because she looks so unusually retro.

In the case of the boat in the picture, it seems that some guy in Normandy wanted a South Seas trading schooner and, because he couldn’t find one for sale in France, he decided to commission a naval architect to design and build one for him.  Well into the build he noticed that the architect had stipulated aluminium masts, this didn’t fit with the owner’s sense of aesthetics or his wish to have an ‘authentic’ design. He wanted wooden masts but the architect insisted the additional weight would unbalance the vessel – and so at enormous expense, the owner insisted on carbon fibre masts sheathed in wood. Wooden masts taper and so the dimensions of the wood cladding strips had to be drawn, measured and cut using the latest high-tec computer CAD/CAM equipment. So, she now looks like she has wooden masts but despite this, everyone who looks at her feels she looks ‘odd’ in some way – not quite seaworthy. Maybe if the masts had really been wood, the hull dimensions would have been different. To the best of my knowledge she hasn’t left the estuary since she was brought here. I might be wrong of course but that, at least, is the word on the river.

Meanwhile, here is another boat which showed up here recently. I’m not sure how seaworthy she is either but she looks like a lot of fun (in sheltered waters). I think our US cousins would describe her as a ‘Shanty Boat’. Plenty of space and accommodation, great for river exploration, but take a liferaft and don’t lose sight of land!

Seaward 

Don’t Look Back – Too Often.

Yea - sometimes I wear a tie - now that I don't have to

Its better, I find, not to look back too often. What is ahead is infinitely more interesting that what has been

done. One time each year however, Susan and I like to review progress and share aspirations – she for her art, garden and potager, me for the boat, writing and my guitar playing. And then there is the joint stuff – house renovation projects, trips and voyages. The discussion, which we refer to as the ‘shareholders’ meeting usually takes place at this time of year in front of a log fire with a special heart-warming dinner and a bottle of better than average plonk. So, this year our meeting will be on Saturday evening on my return from Jersey where I am undertaking a writing project at the moment.

With the meeting in mind, I found myself reviewing my boating year the other day. How was 2013 as a boating year? Well pretty good considering I didn’t have a boat on the water.

Winter last year was exceptionally long – at times it felt as if spring would never arrive. But then in May the weather improved and Mother Nature made a dash for summer. Without a sailing boat, the two man sit-on-top kayak was the way to get afloat – and I have to admit it provided a lot of fun – paddling up creeks and into waters hidden from and denied to larger deeper drafted vessels, harvesting wild Samphire and cockles from mud banks inaccessible to everyone else. Something good about paddling too – getting the winter chill out of the old bones and sinew.

But then, toward summer I was invited to sail La Passagere – a heavy old wooden gaff ketch. We even took the mayor of Plouer out for a sail and showed him bits of his parish he had rarely seen.

Full summer, and I had the opportunity to crew a Moody 33 from Plouer to St Valerie en Caux – a delivery trip – a forty hour, 200 mile voyage north through the Channel Islands and the infamous Alderney Race, out into the English Chanel and then East, passing Cherbourg, Caen, Le Havre, the mouth of the Seine, Dieppe, and on to our destination, arriving at dawn, a half hour before ETA.

Autumn, and I managed to crew a friend’s newly bought Cornish Shrimper, an unexpected bonus. He’d bought her to renovate and discovered that she was in very good order and there was no reason not to launch.

Late autumn completed the circle – I was back with the canoe and foraging for wild fruit along the estuary shores, pretty good for a guy living through a boat famine.

Memories such as these led me to digging out log books from even earlier voyages aboard my old sloop Seaward Lady a  24ft Macwester Rowan Crown and later aboard Susan of the Seas a twin engined Channel Islands 22. Glancing through the books over a glass of wine by the fire is certainly an instructive, if not always an enjoyable, occasion. In truth it’s a history of highs and lows - dates, times, distances, courses and compass headings – data that serves as a reminder of the successful and not so successful trips. Logbook data has its obvious uses at sea while on passage but  it’s often the comments made in the margins that are the most telling. ‘Skipper has close family connection to Captain Bligh’ was one that made me wince.  Another salt-stained almost illegible comment contained the words ‘skipper’and ‘pollark’ I think that’s what it said anyway. Surprisingly enough, I also came across a poem of sorts –

We were out one day down Carteret way

The waves were high and rollin’

Bail out! Sue hollered

But she needn’t have bothered

The bucket had a hole in.’

But enough of looking back! A free copy of the local tide tables landed on my doormat this morning and the shortest day of the year is already passed – sure signs that its time to get back to the boatyard.

For other aspects of this frugal life please read Frugal Living in France

Seaward

French Regulations

Forgive me, regular readers, if this post seems a little removed from my usual scribbling. You’ll recall, the whole object is to show, through my experiences, that it is possible to get afloat on a reasonably comfortable and sound cruising boat for a modest outlay. The main strategy is to replace costly bills with DIY, essentially exchanging ‘time’ of which I have a great deal for ‘money’  a commodity more rare these days since I took an early exit from mainstream work.

To date things have gone reasonably well although I have to admit that I have had to invest a good deal more time than I had originally envisaged.

Another aspect to the strategy however has been to reduce costs wherever possible in order to divert precious resources to the boat project. This plan has been severely compromised recently due to French Bureaucracy.

Let me start at the beginning and, if you find reading about a non-boating subject boring, then please move on now and catch me at a later post where I hope to feel sane enough to return to the main subject.

So, one way to reduce costs is to run only one car and substitute the second car for a much more economical means of transport – a 50cc Vespa scooter, which gives me almost 100 miles for a gallon (5 Litres) of petrol. So far so good. I bought the vehicle new in Jersey (Channel Islands) and brought it to France when I moved here last year. Now, you’re allowed to run a Jersey Vespa in France for a while (as a tourist would run his car) but after a while you have to register the vehicle in France.

OK, first stop is the French customs. The Vehicle was purchased outside of the EU – so I have to pay 20% of its value to the French Government as a sort of import tax. I have no problem with this – pay unto Caesar etc! I must say though, that a few alarm bells began to ring when I noticed that they still use carbon paper!

Having duly paid the tax the customs officers directed me to the Sous Prefecture at Dinan to have the vehicle registered with an appropriate French number plate. Without this I cannot insure (and therefore drive) the vehicle.

On arrival at the Sous Prefecture, I was told that Dinan was the wrong town and that I should go to the Sous Prefecture at St Malo. On arrival there, I was told that there was a long queue and I should return very early in the morning on another day.  Alternatively I could post all the documentation to the main Prefecture office at St Brieu (a good distance away). The bureaucrat in St Malo advised me that all the paperwork I had was correct.

I sent the documents to St Brieu and two weeks later the papers were returned with a note to say that a document was missing. No name, no contact, no number to phone – just a scribbled refusal

Through friends and internet research I was able to identify the document which was only available via the tax office in Dinan. There I was met by an official who explained he was very busy and asked if I could return in half an hour. Later when he understood the situation he struggled to understand why St Brieu had demanded this particular document but he agreed to supply it in any case. He obtained all the information he needed to complete this new form by referring to the portfolio of information I had originally supplied. There was nothing on the new form, no new information.

Anyway, armed with that, I again sent the documentation to St Brieu only to have everything returned because the vehicle didn’t have a certificate of conformity with European standards. IT’S A VESPA FOR GODDSAKE made in ITALY and sold all over Europe! Are they going to produce a special non conforming edition to sell to the couple of hundred souls who may want one on the tiny (9X5mile) Island of Jersey?

Now I have to send a request to Italy for a certificate of conformity so that I can send it to the Bureaucrats in St Brieu – with luck I’ll get the Vespa back on the road sometime in September, unless of course, they dream up some other form for me to complete. Meanwhile, the car remains my only form of powered transport and the Vespa sits in the barn.

This, by the way, is only one small example French State administration. I could write a pretty thick book on how, I had to produce nine copies of a file of documents in order to obtain confirmation that planning permission was not required for a planned extension to my house. If I had needed planning permission I don’t know how many forms would have been required.

I love France and her people - but I’ve never encountered such a centralised and bureaucratic State administration anywhere in the western world. Given their history of revolution and republicanism, given their love of individualism and freedom – I think the average French citizen deserves better than this!

Seaward

July! What happened to April May and June?

Well, I’ll tell you. April and May were almost the wettest, coldest months of spring in living memory. We had snow in May. For much of those months Susan and I were planting crops and seedlings only to see our hopes dashed by yet more frost, sleet hail and occasionally – snow. The store of logs which we expected to see us through the warmer days became completely exhausted and we had to find and chop many more to keep the fires burning. Fortunately a log warms you twice, once when you cut it and again when you burn it.

We also picked up a flu bug which laid us both low for several weeks. Lots of people in the village had it too and I can’t remember ever feeling so ill before. The flu didn’t last forever but the recovery was a long process. Neither of us had any energy except for meeting the basic requirements of staying alive.

Then we had to go to the UK to check on family and make sure all remains well with them following our voluntary exile to France.

Then to cap it all, dear old Google withdrew advertising from the blog because I hadn’t completed an on-line form. It took a month to sort that out. The income is tiny but it’s enough to pay for a pot of boat paint now and again so it did have an impact. All this is a roundabout way of apologising to regular readers for my prolonged absence.

Now for the good news – well despite my lack of postings I seem to be enjoying a larger than ever readership. Almost 4000 readers last month (June) 30,000 readers over all and anywhere between 80 and 150 readers daily. Maybe it’s better if I don’t write so much.

As for the boat, well I managed to get back on board a few times in June and have decided to try and tackle the worst parts of the boat first. The cockpit is the dirtiest, most tired, scuffed and scraped area on the whole boat and so that’s where I have decided to concentrate effort. She’s been painted in this area before so that’s where to begin.

Reading up on the subject tells me that 80% of a professional painter’s time is devoted to preparing for painting. He only actually spends 20% of his time with a paint brush or roller in his hand. The advice is that for an amateur boat renovator, he should invest 90% of his effort on preparation if he wants to get a finish remotely as good as that of a professional. So, with regard to the cockpit it’s washing and degreasing, followed by sanding to start with.

Recommendations regarding sandpaper are – use nothing more course than 80 grade and aim to use 125 grade to finish if you want to paint. If you hope to restore without paint you have to move to finer and finer grades – down towards 400 – and then smooth even more using a rubbing compound. I think the cockpit will need painting but hope to get away with re-polishing the rest of the topsides. More detail as I get into the job.

Finally, take a look at this pic. Its the piece of string which holds the lifeline to the pushpit. Obviously there are several of these on the boat but only one tied in this way. I love it but can't find any reference to is in the standard and classic books on sailing knots or hitches. So, if you have any idea what it is, and where it is described I'd love to hear from you. 

Seaward

Philosphical Approaches to Boat Renovation

Please forgive the title given to this post, many of us Anglo Saxons have a deep mistrust of anything resembling philosophy, Brits tend to leave such thoughts to our European cousins. As an ex-pat Brit living in France however, I have to give some thought to it in order to have a chance of being understood.

In a previous life I was privileged to have something to do with government support for cultural affairs, museums, art galleries, theatres and such. The French take their ‘culture’ much more seriously than the English and therefore I was not surprised to find that my attempts to renovate an old boat provoked some discussion, debate and serious philosophical questioning from within my circle of French friends.

Firstly, they wanted to know what I was doing, not in the practical sense of painting, or sanding but more philosophically – what is the driving philosophy which determines the methodology which will guide the project to the achievement of its ultimate goal?

Now to a simple Englishman, the question seemed more complicated than the answer and so before giving a response that might define me as a philistine for ever more, I decided to consult with past colleagues and acquaintances in the cultural business in order to better understand the question.

No doubt you are all now wondering what philosophical driving force governs the chosen methodology for ‘doing up this old boat’, and maybe some of you engaged in similar projects have begun to ask the same question of yourselves – or maybe not!

So, before you lose sleep or the will to live, here is how I understand the question and how I have chosen to answer it.

OK, well firstly, there are any number of reasons for wanting to ‘do up’ an old boat. You could try to argue that there is a heritage driver, something about preserving, valuing and celebrating the past as a valid activity in its own right. You could argue it is a ‘green’ act of recycling. You could argue it is a sort of political statement about self-sufficiency and freedom. So long as you don’t admit that you are driven by the absolute need to get afloat at minimum cost, (Arguments about funding or the lack of it aren’t acceptable in this context) you could try to argue that all three points have equal value – but you wouldn’t get very far because each reason has its own implications for the approach you take. There are three key words here – conservation, preservation and renovation.

Conservation, so my cultural friends tell me, is about using as few rare or precious resources as possible, in order to ensure that supplies of those resources are not wasted or lost. Laminated plywood therefore might be acceptable here as a replacement for solid mahogany, because it conserves precious stocks of hardwood timber. If you are committed to preservation however, you are driven to guard and maintain objects and materials in their original form, so a solid oak beam has to be replaced with a solid oak beam. Renovation is, as the word suggests, about the renewal or improvement of objects to sustain their usefulness without necessarily preserving or conserving anything. So, am I conserving, preserving or renewing?

It would be difficult to argue my efforts are about preservation in the sense that a museum would use the word because modifications have already been made to this vessel in the form of an outboard well and a new rudder configuration. This boat is already radically different to the Nomad as originally designed and launched.

Conservation then? Maybe. Certainly I’m making use of an old boat rather than buying a new one.

Renovation? Yes, I suppose, she will be renewed but not in her original form.

I think my line with the philosophers will be that a new term is needed, an expression which more adequately describes the philosophy – lets just say ‘I’m doing her up!’

Seaward

On the Canal

On the Canal

I took a reluctant trip to IKEA recently ( looking at new kitchen for this French cottage of mine) and took the opportunity to walk along the Isle et Villaine canal for a while. Two interesting low cost DIY attempts to get afloat here. One obviously more practical than the other – although if your ambition is simply to cruise a canal, I suppose a caravan on a raft shouldn’t be sniffed at. 

Equally interesting, the water was perfectly clear, so clear in fact that you could see the bottom. Now the reason for my interest is that four years ago when I brought my little Channel Island 22 through here, the water was green and murky. So what has happened? Well after a few enquiries, it seems that someone has emptied the contents of a home aquarium in the water. The aquarium contained a plant that home fish keepers use the keep the water clear. Problem here is that this weed seems to thrive and multiply when it is cut up by boat propellers. Not only that but the cuttings form a kind of mat which resembles a sort of green chopped strand GRP matting. Excellent stuff for blocking engine filters.

  

So the water looks unusually fine and clear yet boat after boat engine is overheating as they come through the Canal. I had dinner with a couple of Jersey shipmates the other day as they came out of the canal on route home. They described the journey as a nightmare. Heaven knows what the authorities will do to restore the situation – hope they sort it by next year though because that’s when I hope to make the trip to the Atlantic via this waterway. Might have to paddle!

Seaward

La Fete de Doris

From an Internet Café

Well, this frugal lifestyle can have its downsides. I’m currently trying to move from French Telecoms to ‘Free’ to get cheaper international calls, broadband and some kind of advantageous mobile phone system. All will be well when the transaction goes through but it can take up to two weeks to sort. In the meantime, blogging has to be done through laptops and internet cafés, which is a pity because there is a lot to blog about.

Firstly, there was the Fete de Doris, the biggest yet with over 100 dories plying the estuary all through the past weekend. Also, I had my first sail as crew of the good ship La Passagere, a nineteenth century lugger recently bought by my good friend Allain, for use as an opportunity for tourists to get a taste of the sea, AND I have finally tracked down an interesting boat which I hope to see in the near future. 

Anyway, the weekend of the Fete de Doris was truly beautiful, lots of sunshine (rare this year) and gentle breezes which were a godsend to the countless people rowing each stage. The welcomes at each of the twelve slipways were very warm and the refreshments provided to the participants were generous and quite alcoholic. There was live music in each village and several boats also managed to keep the music going between stages thanks to crew members who brought accordions along with them. 

SO, sorry for the slight hiccup in transmissions but hopefully, things will improve shortly and normal transmissions will resume at the rate of two per week. AND the moment, I have my new internet set-up I’ll be posting one of Susan’s new monthly recipes, and a new quiz page for September, so if you haven’t attempted the quiz yet, you only have a few days left.

Seaward

  

Taking Stock

So, my short piece on the Beneteau First 21 prompted six comments earlier this week – a record! And speaking of records, you might be interested to know that this little piece of blogspace averages over 50 readers per day with 1,586 visitors in July and 4,609 since the first post in May. Largest daily visitor record was 98.

 Another interesting and somewhat more worrying record however, is that the most popular entries are those concerned with particular vessels. My piece about the Hardy Motorsailer for example has attracted 50 readers so far and the piece about the Cape Cutter has attracted 73 to date, whereas, my piece about piecing my nose with a fish-hook was of little interest to anyone but me. In effect, people here like to read about types of boats rather than other aspects of boating life.

My good friend Michael predicted this some months ago and suggested that readership would dwindle once I had chosen and bought my low cost cruiser. Hope he’s wrong because I’ll be relying more and more on your advice to bring the old tub back to a safe and comfortable state – time will tell.

Anyway, this is all a very longwinded way of saying thank you to all the Simple Sailing Low Cost Cruising friends, supporters and contributors. Is the site achieving its aims? I think so, in that it seems to help bring like minded people together, it promotes discussion and helps disseminate information and opinion. In truth, if I hadn’t been so technologically inept I would have developed a site which isn’t a blog (too much of me – not enough of us and you). The ultimate goal was a kind of information and support vehicle with a facility where like minded souls could share thoughts and ideas about cruising. The kind of perfect clubhouse where you kick off your seaboots, pour a liberal quantity of a suitable seaman’s tipple and enjoy the company. 

So, how are we doing?– so far so good I guess, but there is always room for improvement, technically, and with regard to content and editorial. Should we add more pages? Is a blog piece twice a week about right? Would you prefer more or less frequent blogs? Are there topics which deserve greater depth? Are there functions that could be added – a forum for example? Any ideas or thoughts would be really appreciated.

Meanwhile Michael, some time ago suggested a trimaran as a possible low cost cruiser, fast, stable, roomy, light with little draft, easily driven.  There is one for sale here so guess what I’ll be doing this weekend? Get back to you in a couple of days

Seaward

La Tour des Ports De La Manche

Each year the French organise a staged yacht race between the French Ports on the English Channel coast (La Manche (the Sleeve) to them)). St Helier (Jersey) is not a French Port but its close by and so it acts as host to one of the stages. Approximately 100 yachts in five different classes take part and although I have no interest in racing yachts (or any other kind of race) I have to admit it is quite a spectacular event.

This year because I am boatless a few guys took pity on me and offered me a place on the official States of Jersey observation boat, scheduled to go out into the bay to witness the start and then follow the fleet for a few miles. I accepted without hesitation.

So Thursday morning, I was on the quayside camera in hand. By ten thirty I was riding significant waves in a force five easterly chasing the ocean greyhounds and firing off snaps by the dozen, as part of the official Jersey Government spectator contingent.

Some of the smaller Frech vessels were very interesting in particular a type called 'First 21', must investigate!

Now, there are several cultural differences between French and Anglo Saxon approaches to many things - some are subtle, some are not. When it comes to yacht racing, unlike the English they start the smaller slower boats first. This can be frustrating for the fastest yachts who are held back for a later start because they have to weave their way through the various fleets of slower small craft to find open water. From a spectator's point of view however, it keeps all the vessels bunched up for much longer and therefore the spectacle is much more dramatic.

Another, less subtle difference was highlighted just before the start of the race. Right in front of the Official boat a competitor dropped his wallet into the harbour and jumped in after it hoping to grab it before it sank. Fortunately he managed to get hold and was helped back into the cockpit by his crewmates none the worse for his experience - except of course he was soaked to the skin. He did the obvious thing (to him) and stripped off the wet garments as quickly as he could - in the cockpit in full view of the Jersey dignitaries - and then, perhaps encouraged by the cold water, feeling the call of nature he stood naked on the transom facing our vessel and took a long slow pee. Reaction from the French yachtcrews? Nothing. Reaction from the Jersey officials? - Giggles, blushes, and a general acceptance that this was probably the 'French' way of doing things!

Seaward

It Shouldn’t Happen to a Sailor (7)

Or in this case maybe it should!

The tiny island of Jersey, where I spend a good deal of time, is home to a small community of 90,000. The Island measures 9 miles by five at high tide and gains an additional 44 square miles of sand and rock at low tide. The inhabitants owe allegiance to the Queen of England but not her government. Essentially in all matters other than foreign policy they are independent. The Island is 90 miles south of the UK but only 14 miles from the French coast. As you can imagine, there is a strong French influence and there are families here who can trace their ancestry back to William the Conqueror. Much of the local legal system is based on old Norman French law too. One throwback to the old Norman times is the system of policing used in the Island.

The system works like this. Each Parish (there are twelve) elects a Constable who is responsible for law and order in his parish. The Constable is ‘elected and unpaid’. In order to fulfil his duties he has a team of voluntary Centeniers, each one theoretically responsible for the good behaviour of one hundred families. To assist in carrying out his duties , each Centenier has a team of voluntary Vingteniers responsible for twenty parish families. Their prime duty is to prevent crime. This is no easy job; if they are ‘too eager and enthusiastic’ they are not re-elected. If they are ‘too laid-back or lazy’ they are not re-elected. They walk a fine tightrope.

Davy, has a Channel Island 22 which he uses for crabbing and the occasional trip to France to replenish his supply of red wine and calvados, a sort of fire-water made from apples.Each Spring he takes the boat from his back yard down to the harbour and each Autumn he brings her back to overwinter.

So his road trailer makes four three mile trip each year. A couple of years ago, he became worried that the trailer may no longer be ‘street’ legal. The tyres were bald, the salt had seized the brakes, the brake lights didn’t work and the whole rig was covered in salt induced rust stains. What to do?

He called the local Constable who arranged to visit him and inspect the trailer. The constable brought the Centenier, who brought the Vingtenier with him and the three voluntary officials carried out a thorough inspection. 

        ‘Ah Davy, you have a problem here’, pronounced the Constable. ‘Look here, the tyres are bald, the salt has seized the brakes, the brake lights don’t work and the whole rig is covered in salt induced rust stains. This trailer is illegal. It’s dangerous - that’s what it is’

        ‘I know’, said Davy, ‘that’s why I brought you here. It’s March already and the crabs will be coming in by April, can’t miss the season, what am I going to do?’

The police officers agreed that this was indeed a serious problem and took themselves off out of ear-shot to determine what should be done.

After a few moments they returned

        ‘Well Davy, this is a serious problem’ said the Constable in his most grave and authoritative tone ‘Here’s what you must do. Firstly, you move the boat slowly, at six O clock on Sunday morning when there won’t be too many people about.’

        ‘That’s all very well,’ said Davy, but what if someone reports me? I might get into trouble.’

        ‘It won’t be a problem.’ Said the Constable, ‘we’ll give you a police escort’.

Now why can’t all policemen think that way?

Seaward

A More Wholesome Approach to Owning a Boat

Recent comments from pirates, comrades and partners in crime have been really helpful. John Almberg (the Unlikely boat builder) suggested a return to an older (and in my view) more wholesome approach to getting a boat. Finding a local boat builder who knows the local waters and who can build a suitable vessel from scratch. He mentioned the designs of  Howard Chapple and his idea is very tempting. There is a something very special about the American boats John mentions. They were powerful fast and very elegant, sadly few of them came to the UK, probably because, with a few exceptions, Europe simply didn’t have that kind of money and/or the appreciation of the ‘new’. For many Europeans ‘old’ is beautiful, new is simply brash.

Whatever!

I know that if I had the resources to purchase and maintain one of those ocean greyhounds I would neither hesitate nor look back.

Still, the notion of commissioning a ‘one off’ vessel is appealing and I do happen to know a man. I’ll talk to him within the next week or so.

Meanwhile Michael Arnott has just completed a crossing from Bristol to Lundy Island and back. 40 miles of open water and some of the fiercest tides in Europe, he’s written an account of it in comments under my piece about the 'ideal' boat', once again drawing me towards the Westerly range of boats and re-kindling interest (yet again) in the Centaur. Maybe I should take a second look? 

So, we have a long holiday weekend ahead with an extra day tagged on for us Brits because the Queen has been on the throne for a significant length of time, so she’s given everyone a day off. Still got no boat but we do have a kayak so it’ll be a trip to the end of the estuary and maybe up river to the truly beautiful French medieval town of Dinan for a glass of muscadet and a bowl of Moules Frites.

Visited Michael Zessller's blog the other day(A Bone in its Teeth) and was really taken by some of his Youtube movie clips – taken from a canoe that looks remarkably similar to mine – except he had a sail and outriggers. Probably cost a fortune BUT maybe, just maybe,  I could knock something together.

Mmm dreaming again

Seaward