Day skipper

As has been pointed out on several, if not numerous occasions by our esteemed captain, the crew of Erbas have the facility to post on this blog. Generally, we don't, partly because our captain does such a thorough job and partly because we, or at least I, can't be bothered. That said, our recent trip warrants a few comments.

I'm Rik, aka first mate. I've been sailing with cpt. Bru for a few years now, both on Erbas and our previous boat, Brigantia. Mostly I've been on the annual two week voyage as crew, mostly involving pouring coffee down the throat of the captain between pulling on various bits of string and the odd bit of maintenance. Oh, and it would have been rude not to support him on the beer drinking excursions ashore.

Having recently become engaged to the lovely Michelle I decided to take her for a week on Erbas to see what she makes of it all. Having never been on such a craft before, this would be very new for her. Having travelled across from Somerset to Essex on the Friday afternoon, which was rather foolish to say the least as it was very busy, we settled in for a quiet weekend on board, sticking around Fambridge which for me was novel as we usually get away quite quickly. We discovered the rather pretty little church which I didn't even know existed as it appears to be tucked away on private land. Well worth the visit though.

Monday saw capn Bru arrive and we were soon under way down river to Burnham. Running with the tide we made good progress but since the wind was largely directly ahead, wind over tide made things relatively choppy and not conducive to sailing so we motored all the way. In order to give Michelle a taste of the big white flappy things we motored on past Burnham, took a brief look into the mouth of the Roach (the river, that is, not the fish) then turned and headed back to Burnham. Running with the wind, we unfurled the genoa and cut the engine. It all got very much more peaceful and we enjoyed a brief sail up river back to Burnham. By the time we arrived we were pleased to get the kettle on though, as it was starting to get rather chilly, the wind still having a bit of a bite to it.

Bru having work to do on another boat left us to it for the week, and we enjoyed a few days in Burnham. I had to be back at home Friday evening and in order to avoid repeating my previous mistake of using the M25 on Friday afternoon, we decided to go back up river on Thursday and drive home that evening. Bru offered to take us, but I decided to take the opportunity of a relatively safe trip up river as my first outing as skipper. This was agreed by all, although I detected a slight shade of green on the face of Bru as we passed him on the bank taking photos. Whether it was envy of seeing us cruise by in the sunshine or the dread of what we might do to his (or, more accurately, his wife's) boat I'll never know. I think it was probably a bit of both.

Our trip was, I'm glad to say, thoroughly enjoyable. It was more of a drift than a sail to be honest, but with about two knots of tide and being in no particular hurry, we decided to unfurl the genoa, cut the engine and enjoy the peace. Much of the time we made less than a knot through the water, but it still wasn't really worth hoisting the main as with such little wind it would tend to steal the air from the genoa, and with the turns in the river an unintended jibe was always a risk. Not a terribly high energy risk given the conditions, but still a risk. So we gently sailed down river for nearly three hours.

As we sailed past the visitor pontoon at Fambridge we started thinking about getting the noisy thing back on. Just past there we were "entertained" by a couple of men on personal water craft who were clearly having fun. I later found out this is actually illegal on the river at that speed, but apart from the noise they didn't bother us. Then it was a push on the start button, a pull on the red rope and it was back into motor mode for the trip up the creek into the marina.

As we approached the pontoon, capn bru was there to greet us, which was handy as he could take the morning like to counter my distinct ability to end up directly between two finger berths. She was duly attached to one of said fingers and we settled in for a coffee. Or tea, in my case.

And so endeth my first day as skipper. Lessons learned were several in number. It was good to try the exercise on such a calm day on the river. This kept things like tides and wind very simple. It would also be useful to me if I could practice coming along side with Erbas, as she handles very different from the narrowboats that I'm used to. My biggest slap wrist of the exercise was by poor safety briefing to Michelle, my crew for the day. She asked me as we were going along what she should do if I fell overboard, more out of curiosity than anything I think but in fact it was a very, very good question. I proceeded to explain a few things but that should have been done right at the start. Definite fail on my part!

But in all I think it was a good day, a very enjoyable sail in the afternoon sun, and since the wind was behind us pretty much all the way it was warm too. Since the forecast was single figure temperatures and cloud, this was an unexpected bonus.

We set to packing up and clearing off whilst bru had a guitar session with the chap on the boat across the pontoon. We left about 8, and had a reasonable but still tiring drive back to Somerset.  Essex hasn't got any closer.

Stormy Weather

or Thoughts and Reflections on a Windy Weekend ...

I've been thinking over a whole lot of things after last weekend, whilst laid low all week with the dreaded lurgy (a.k.a. man flu or in other words a nasty common cold!)

The stand out thought is just how well we coped with by far the heaviest sustained weather we've sailed in to date. I had few concerns about the boat, Sabres have an excellent and well deserved reputation as good sea boats and "Erbas" is, thanks to her previous owner, in tip top condition as to rig and so on.

However, the crew side of things was a question mark. For myself, I had some concerns about my ability to cope with rough weather. I've come over all queasy on several occasions when its got choppy and I confess I had my doubts. However, having taken a Kwells an hour or so before setting out I then felt no need to take a further dose even though that one tablet would have worn off by the time we got into the rougher conditions in the outer Blackwater

Jane slept, or tried to at least (she had the cold then that she subsequently gave to me) through most of it as best she could. Surprisingly, despite commenting on feeling like a football being bounced around and despite feeling queasy within half an hour of getting up (prompting an immediate return to her berth) she also opined that it "wasn't too bad" and that she'd be happy to go out in those conditions again provided we had a third hand on board. (I'll come back to that in a mo ...)

Tony showed no signs of distress either apart from acquiring a few bruises. Those he picked up as he did most of the hard work of going on deck to reef down and moving around the cockpit. I (unusually for me really) stayed fairly firmly glued to the tiller.

So there we were, out in a solid F7 with occasional sustained gusts into F8, or full gale, territory for the first time. And by choice too. Although the forecast had been for F5 or F6 gusting F7 I'd made allowance for the possibility of it being a notch worse and it was. What there wasn't at the time of departure was a gale warning in force. Had there been we would not have left Burnham.

Was it a good decision to go? Yes, I think so. Jane was not unhappy. Tony and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, nothing got broken and I felt I'd moved another rung or two up the experience ladder towards becoming a half decent sailor.

Would I go again in the same circumstances? Yes, I would!

So why didn't we go for it on Sunday and should we have?

Well firstly the actual conditions we were seeing at Bradwell by late morning were a notch worse than Saturday. We were seeing gusts of 35 to 40 knots on the windex and a walk out to the sea wall had both me and Tony feeling it was not on. The final straw was that for Sunday there was a Gale Warning in force for the Thames Estuary sea area.

Had we been under significant pressure to get back on Sunday, as we would have been before I quit the full time job, we'd have probably gone for it leaving before dawn. That would have got us across the Ray'sn and into the Crouch before the wind really picked up again but it would have been a dampener the night before knowing that we had to be up and going at four in the morning! And it would not have been fun.

Happily, with some minor inconvenience, we had the option of staying put until first light on Monday and I'm perfectly happy with that decision. In the same circumstances I would do the same thing again without hesitation.

So that's the decision making process looked at and justified - it was a good call to go for it on Saturday and an equally good call not to go for it on Sunday. Smugly satisfied with that, let's have a look at one or two things I'm not so satisfied with ...

There were a number of definite lessons to be learnt about our preparation and so on.

We were unusually lax in making ready for sea. I can only offer in my defence as skipper that this was our first outing of any sort since last October and I simply forgot some things. A poor defence though.

We failed to adequately secure the saloon table and properly stow gear resulting in a certain amount of carnage down below! Worse, I totally forgot to drop the forward hatch to the fully closed position. Astonishingly, not a drop of water came in but it could have had quite serious consequences.

And we had no snacks to hand nor a flask of coffee made up both of which would have improved life for me and Tony no end. (We could have hove to for quarter of an hour to brew up but we opted to keep going as we'd be in port soon enough anyway)

Jane took all of the above in hand on Sunday morning and by the time we made the "no go" decision she'd secured everything properly, found and made up a flask of coffee and put a couple of rounds of sandwiches in the fridge ready. Bless her, she didn't complain at all that her efforts were in vain!

Another important lesson we learnt is to remove the tiller pilot spigot when the pilot isn't in use. A couple of Tony's bruises were as a result of coming into contact with the spigot when sitting down and if someone landed the base of their spine on it heavily it could be properly nasty.

"George", by the way, was set up and ready to go but with malice aforethought we were pressing on with sails set for the sustained wind rather than the gusts. Steering by hand meant we could luff up in the gusts and if necessary spill wind from the main. The autopilot inevitably and expectedly struggles to cope with that scenario and to use it would have meant a further reduction in sail area. With a relatively short day and an active and competent crew I chose to go for speed rather than comfort!

And that brings me neatly to thoughts about reefing.

The first question in mind is whether we should have reefed sooner. And I'm really not sure. I was fully aware that we were sailing downwind or on a broad reach all the way out to the Inner Whitaker and that things were likely to stiffen up once we came onto the wind but we certainly weren't over pressed with one reef in each of the main and the genoa at that stage.

When we changed course to cross the Spitway we came off a virtual run onto a close reach and at first we were still not over pressed. It wasn't our change of course that required the second reef, it was a distinct and sudden change in wind strength and direction.

I luffed and spilt wind to cope with that initially and delayed the decision to put the second reef in for a couple of minutes deliberately expecting that it was just a passing squall. When it became clear it wasn't dropping any time soon the reef went in.

I could second guess that period of decision making from here to eternity! Should we have reefed before changing course for the Spitway? Should we have reefed the moment the wind increase hit us? I don't know is the answer. All I know is that nothing broke and we didn't die!

I am though very aware that my decision to delay putting in the second reef in the main was, in part, due to a reluctance to send someone forward to the mast in those conditions unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. Whilst the sea conditions were not extreme, they were a good deal rougher than we are used to encountering and inevitably, being in the confined and turbulent waters of the Thames Estuary, the motion was rather unpredictable.

Leaving the cockpit in such conditions is always going to carry with it an element of risk. We had prudently set the jackstays and we were both clipped on during the evolution but it is never going to be an easy undertaking and that has set me pondering once again the desirability of bringing all the reefing lines back to the cockpit.

I'll return to this theme in greater detail at a later date but in brief I think the best scheme is going to be to shift the halyard, topping lift and kicking strap to the port side where the cabin top is narrower, stack a second deck organiser above the existing one to starboard and add a second bank of three clutches alongside the existing bank. That, along with sorting out the necessary blocks at the base of the mast, will give us twin line reefing on all three reefs (and if I'm going to do it, I want to be able to put all three in from the cockpit)

It does however mean spending two or three hundred quid on bits, which I don't have right now, and it also means re-reeving all of the in mast halyards which is not a job to be undertaken lightly. I think it's one for the project list but its certainly something I want done before I set out on the Round Britain trip next year or the year after.

The next cause for thought is the question of whether we were carrying too much sail during the beat up into the Blackwater. And when you consider the excellent performance to windward and that at no point did "Erbas" feel over pressed and further that we only saw water on the side decks when a wave caught us the answer has to be no.

Oh for sure, had I been on my own and needing to use the tiller pilot I'd have needed to shorten down sail even further. In fact, I can confidently say that I fully expect I'd have rolled away the genoa altogether, pinned in the main with either two or three reefs in it and motored in to Bradwell as fast as I possibly could!

I think we were on the edge of needing to put a third reef in the main but we were fine with two. What was obvious was that with two full reefs in the genoa it was starting to lose shape and had we rolled much more away it would have become less and less effective. I was starting to wonder about the as yet unused in anger sails stowed under the head end of my berth ...

"Erbas"in her old colours with storm sails set *

Jane and I have, as it happens, been out for a test sail in about 20 knots of breeze (top end of F5) with three reefs in the main and the storm jib set.

However, we've never even had the storm trysail out of the bag! With a third deep reef in the main I simply cannot envisage ever needing to use it in coastal waters, it would really only come into its own in genuine mid-ocean storm conditions and we're not going there!

However, the third reef and the storm jib would have made for a much less demanding ride last Saturday but the question is whether we could have sailed the beat into the Blackwater in a reasonable time. I'm not at all sure we would have under so little canvas but we'll never know for sure!

There is another sail we haven't done any more than look at which is the No.2 hank on jib. I've had it out of the bag and it seems to be all in one piece. Now that is a sail I almost wish we'd had with us.

I am wondering if the No.2 jib would have been a better sail to set than a heavily reefed genoa. I suspect that with two reefs in the genoa it is still the better of the two sails but roll away any more and the jib, if it's in good order, might well come into its own. I'm determined to dig it out of hiding and have a play!

(Of course, setting the No.2 jib or the storm jib requires an extended period of foredeck work involving, as it does, setting up the removable inner forestay, lashing the genoa to the stay, hanking on the jib, shifting the sheets from the genoa to the jib and finally hoisting the sail. In, inevitably, rough seas. Hmm)

Another problem we had was simply moving about the cockpit."Erbas" is unashamedly designed as a family coastal cruiser and she has a large, comfortable and spacious cockpit. That is, indeed, one of the many things we find so appealing about her and we wouldn't wish it any different.

However, when the going gets tough its not at all easy to get from the downhill side to the uphill side, as the crew inevitably has to do when tacking or trimming the jib sheets. On a couple of occasions Tony even used the aforementioned tiller pilot spigot as a hand hold until I pointed out that it isn't particularly firmly nailed down! I'm not going to go overboard (aha ha ha!) in preparing for heavy weather because I'd sooner avoid the problem altogether if I can but I'm minded to look at adding a few handholds of some form or another around the cockpit.

A lot of the above considerations apply only if we have a third hand on board. Jane was quite clear that whils she was happy to be out in such conditions with Tony or Rik on the crew muster, she would be considerably less keen if we were on our own. That is understandable as with crew she feels able to deal with the conditions as suits her best which is to simply sleep through it as much as possible.

I'm more than happy to accept that if we're sans crew the "go / no go" criteria are a lot lower. As a rule of thumb, with crew I'll consider going if there's no extant gale warning, without crew it's a no go if there's a strong breeze warning. The latter is F6 and above, gale warnings start at F8. Seems about right.

That said, we did have a conversation about coping with unexpectedly worse conditions and agreed that we need to practice evolutions such as reefing down as a couple with Jane doing the deck work (as she feels more confident about that than helming in difficult conditions).

Another niggle that it has brought to mind, which I've been meaning to look at for ages, is the lack of any effective means of lashing the tiller. To date I've relied on using the tiller pilot either to maintain a heading (in Auto mode) or to keep the tiller where I want it (by leaving it in Standby) but if it failed that's not going to be an option. More string and hardware needed methinks!

All in all, whilst it raised a number of issues worthy of further consideration, I have to confess to feeling a little bit chuffed at just how well things went over last weekend. I shan't be rushing to head out into an F8 again in a hurry but knowing that I can handle it if I have to is very satisfying

* Picture courtesy of Ian French, "Apogee". Note that normally the genoa would be furled outside of the storm jib and the mainsail would be stowed on the boom. The sails were not bent on when this photo was taken.

Sprung is Spring (Days 5 & 6)

Sunday dawned relatively bright and breezy when we finally surfaced. We'd already rejected the possibility of leaving early enough in the morning to make it over the Rays'n as it would have meant leaving well before dawn. On top of the inevitable heavy evening and late night that simply wasn't on.

That left us with Plan B which was to leave as soon after low water as possible and return to the Crouch via the Spitway. Bradwell used to be a virtually all tide marina for us but the entrance is now so shallow that it's little better than half tide.

The problem now was that the forecast for the afternoon was Sou'westerly F6 or 7 gusting 8 and a Gale Warning was in force for the Thames Estuary.

My standing rule is that we do not, under any circumstances, set out if a gale warning is in force. Worse, we'd have twelve miles or more of wind over tide in the Whitaker and Outer Crouch and we know from experience just how rough that can be in substantially less wind than expected.

The final straw was seeing a sustained gust of over 40 knots, or very nearly F9, on the Windex which was firmly glued in the F6 to F7 bracket with regular gusts of F8. Conditions were at least as bad as the previous afternoon, if not worse.

It was not hard to make the decision to stay put until the following morning, by which time the forecast was for F2 or 3 from the South.

We generally pottered about for the day, Tony and I walked up to Bradwell-on-Sea to procure some cigs and cigars, just making it as the community shop was closing, and we rounded off the day with a meal on board and a beer or three in the Green Man.

Monday morning saw Tony and I up well before dawn and setting out into a nigh on flat calm ...

Sunrise off Start Point

There was little more than an F1 from the Sou-West and it simply wasn't worth hoisting the sails. On another day with no time constraints we'd have motored out to St. Peter's Flats against the flooding tide and then ghosted down the Ray Sand channel enjoying the sunshine and the calm conditions. Today we had to get back to Fambridge as fast as we possibly could as Jane had to be in work tonight.

We followed the 3m contour around the North side of St. Peters Flats and then nipped over the top of the Batchelor Spit. Crossing the Ray Sand things seemed a little shallower than last year which fits with the Spitway having possibly shoaled. We'll have to be cautious until we know for sure what's what.

We had a problem off Holliwell Point just as we entered the Crouch. Although the alarm hadn't gone off, I noticed than the cockpit cooling water indicator, known as "the piddler" wasn't piddling. A glance over the stern had me worried as there was as much steam was water emerging from the wet exhaust and of water there was a good deal less than there should be.

We hurriedly anchored and stopped the engine to investigate. I found the dead remains of a tiny little octopus or jellyfish, couldn't tell which, in the water filter but that wasn't enough to cause a problem. Whipping the impeller cover off, I found the impeller was perfectly OK. Pulling the hose off the bottom of the intake flow sensor there was water at that point but it wasn't making it through the sensor into the filter.

I struggled unsuccessfully to remove the short length of hose above the sensor from either the filter body or the sensor house so eventually resorted to shoving a screwdriver down the pipe. This appeared to do the trick as water now emerged from the sensor in sufficient quantity that upon reassembling the filter and starting the engine the bowl wasn't running dry. There still wasn't as good a water flow as there should be but since the engine seemed determined not to overheat even with hardly any cooling water we raised anchor and got under way again.

Over the next hour the water flow steadily improved until once again the piddler was soaking the feet of the unwary and all seemed well. There's some issues to resolve though - the flow alarm didn't sound presumably because there was still some water flow and the alarm sensor needs to be on the outlet side of the filter not the inlet side so that the sensor isn't a potential source of a blockage (which seems to be what had happened)

With the breeze having picked up a bit and backed more Southerly, once clear of the Burnham moorings we set the genoa and motor sailed. It only have us an extra half a knot or so but having lost nearly half an hour with the cooling problem we needed any help we could get!

We furled it away again as we approached the river moorings at Fambridge which will soon be our home again for the summer but today we needed to get back into the marina berth if at all possible.

Happily, we were just early enough to scrape in with a couple of feet of water to spare. We backed "Erbas" into her berth on this occasion to make life easier for the next time she'll be used then set about offloading kit and tidying up as quickly as possible.

We got everything done in the nick of time which meant we didn't have to implement the alternate plan of Tony taking Jane home whilst I finished off and followed later.

It was only when we were on the doorstep of Boreham Service Station getting on for ha;f an hour into our journey that I realised I'd left the immersion heater on. It wouldn't be the end of the world but as we're on metered electricity it would be a waste of money. Happily, Tony had only made it as far as Maldon and he didn't mind nipping back and unplugging the shore power and stowing the lead under the cockpit tent.

As Rik and Michelle will be aboard next weekend that's not the end of the world.

Sprung is Spring (Day 4)

The weather forecast had been on our minds for several days and a decision on whether to go or not go had been deferred until this morning.

I openly admitted to the crew and to the Laurins that I was feeling somewhat gung ho about it and I'd vote to go unless a gale warning was in place. We'd got a final forecast of a Sou'westerly F5 or 6 gusting 7 give or take (depending on which forecast you chose), my crew were up for it and we decided to go for it.

The Laurins decided it would be a bit much for the kids and opted to drive over (wisely as it turned out!)

With Low Water at the Whitaker Beacon predicted for 10:56 BST we didn't need to make an excessively early departure, the aim being to catch a fair tide for as much of the trip as possible. The inshore shortcut over the Ray'sn would have meant leaving at a much earlier time and in any case I'm not keen on pushing my luck over the sands in a strong breeze (if you get it wrong and end up aground, the potential for serious damage to occur due to pounding when you refloat is not to be ignored)

We motored out of Burnham Yacht Harbour about 08:15 BST and immediately set sail with one reef in both the main and the genoa. It was downwind sailing through the Burnham mooring and we were making excellent speed even though the mainsail looked like a bag of laundry.

It took a few minutes for the penny to drop - I'd managed to clip on the 2nd reef cringle instead of the first! Tony nipped forward to the mast and sorted that out in no time. In hindsight, it might have been better to go with two reefs in the main but at the time we had no more than 15 to 18 knots of true wind, even less apparent as we were sailing away from it and we were making around 5 knots with a fair tide so a reduction in sail area didn't appeal

It took just over three hours to blast down to the Spitway where we made the nigh on ninety degree turn to port to cross the shallow gap between the Buxey and Gunfleet Sands.

A bit of time could have been saved by going North of the Swallowtail but it doesn't make a huge difference and it would have meant a couple of gybes so I chose to stay in the Whitaker. I think the Swallowtail may have shoaled a bit at its Eastern end over the winter though as I had to go right out to abeam of the Inner Whitaker to find enough water to cross safely.

Coming around onto a beam reach over the Spitway was fine. We were still making well over 5 knots over the ground with between 18 to 22 knots of wind from the WSW. I suspected, and indeed mentioned to Tony that we'd probably be putting the second reef in before coming hard onto the wind but we'd wait until we were clear of the Spitway before doing so.

The depth over the Spitway had me keeping a very wary eye on the sounder. We had barely 2 metres under us most of the way across just to the West of the buoys and that's on a nearly neap tide. On springs there could be as much as half a metre or more less than that which would be less than half a metre below our keels. Our days of being blasé about crossing the Spitway may be over unless I can find deeper water on the other side of the track between the buoys.

To make life even more interesting, the wind had now veered from the South West to the North West, which was not unexpected and risen to a solid F7 gusting F8. We were now severely over-pressed. Luffing up and spilling wind from the main kept things from going pear shaped while we both clipped on and Tony went forward to get that second reef back in the main. With the genoa also well reefed down we got things back under full control and pressed on.

Walton Lifeboat Station, nine miles away up the Wallet, recorded an average wind speed of 33 knots and a maximum gust of just over 37 knots at 11:32 that morning about half an hour after it hit us. That jives with our seeing over 30 knots consistently on the Windex with 35 knots at one point (and our Windex is quite slow to respond to gusts). That's top end of F7, bottom end of F8 or in other words a full gale.

Our friend Peter aboard his Vancouver 274 "Alchemist" was nearly knocked down off Walton when it hit him. There really was little or no warning but at no point, even when we had way to much sail and rather too little water for comfort did I feel "Erbas" was struggling. She took it in her stride and felt solid and safe throughout. Mind you, there was a very narrow margin between safety and disaster in those conditions.

Once reefed down to suit the conditions, we settled into the groove of beating into the Blackwater. Jane had emerged briefly from her slumbers in the fo'c'sle, declared herself unimpressed by the conditions, and promptly gone back to bed again. Frankly, I don't blame her!

Tony and I were determined to sail this leg if we could although we needed to keep one eye on the clock as we all needed showers and time to wind down before going out for the evening. Happily, with up to a knot or so of fair tide helping us along, we were able to make excellent progress to windward despite the fairly rough conditions.

With some fairly big seas to contend with, I was in no mood to flirt with the shallows hence the occasional wiggle and consistently early tacks. I'd normally be happy to sail over the Colne Bar and The Knoll at almost any state of the tide and if beating I'd be holding on until the depth was between 2m and 3m before tacking but with waves, and therefore troughs, topping 2m or more at times that would have been madness.

Even so, it took us less than four hours to beat up to within a cable of the beacon at the entrance to Bradwell Creek. I was pleasantly surprised by how well we went at the time and having had the chance to look back at the trip log and track for the day, I'm both surprised and impressed. Not to mention downright chuffed! 

We fired up the trusty engine, rolled away the genoa and dropped the main with a couple of ties around it any old how and made our way into the shelter of Bradwell Marina. The first order of business was a much needed cup of coffee! We'd been gagging for a coffee for a couple of hours but whilst it would have been possible to rustle one up we'd decided to hang on until we got in rather than waste time heaving to while we boiled a kettle.

With our mutual need for intravenous caffeine taken care of, we set about putting a harbour stow on the main and tidying up the shambles that the cabin had become. We'd had a near disaster when the table came adrift, seemingly securely stowed gear had magically un-stowed itself and it generally looked like a bomb had hit it!

I also discovered to my horror that the forward hatch had been in the upper, slightly open, position throughout. When both Jane and I are sleeping in the v-berth we need the extra ventilation or it gets rather stuffy but it's my normal routine to close it as part of preparing to go to sea regardless of the conditions.

Happily, and amazingly, not so much as a drop of water had invaded the interior of the boat, despite several waves over the bows! A must do better in future has been recorded on my report though!

We amused ourselves for a while when "Alchemist" berthed alongside us by ribbing Peter unmercifully. Last year, he and I had been the only boats to arrive at Burnham for this particular dinner due to bad weather. I'd only had to motor downriver, which was wild enough, Peter had sailed down from the Orwell and had a fun time.

This year, he declared that he'd had a terrible day with a near knock down and awful conditions which he hadn't enjoyed at all. We couldn't let that go, of course, and made numerous comments and remarks about how much fun we'd had and how much we'd enjoyed ourselves. The funny thing is, it was all true too!

Tony had acquired a few bruises as he'd been doing all of the moving about and we really ought to have mde more of an effort to secure things in the cabin (and in fact hadn't done as much as I normally insist on doing which was naughty) but other than that the boat and the crew had coped admirably with the conditions, which were rather worse than expected.

Not only that but in the process we'd had one of the best days sailing we've ever had! I'm over the moon with the beat from the Spitway to Bradwell. Keep this sort of thing up and in another few years I'll feel able to claim that I'm a sailor and not just a boater with a sailing boat!

We'd just about put everything to rights when the social whirl started. Various visitors popped by and then it was time to head for a very welcome shower before repairing to Bradwell Sailing Club for the East Coast Forum Fitting Up Supper.

A wonderful evening of excellent food, fine ale and wonderful conversation ensued culminating in afters aboard "Full Circle" with Jim and Lynn, the Strenge family and several others. We finally made it to bed about two in the morning after a superb day!

Sadly, there are no photos. The conditions were such that we never thought to grab a camera.

Just Hanging Around (aka Spring is Sprung Day 3)

Today had been exercising my mind for some considerable time.

It was vital that we resolved the fault in the masthead VHF and this meant someone had to get to the top of the mast. We had previously winched our youngest offspring Mark up there (see last year) but that wasn't an option at the moment.

I was very conscious that the Ship's Bosun (my brother Glen) is probably the most physically powerful man in the crew and he'd found it hard going to hoist the lightest of the male crew members up using the mast winch. In an out and out emergency I could probably get Jane up there to cut away a jammed halyard or something of that nature but it would have to be a life or death situation before she'd do it!

I figured there was no way that Tony and Jane, even working together, would be able to winch my deadweight 15 odd stones up the mast. Equally, I knew I was never going to be able to pull myself up on the rigging (I've always had a problem with raising my arms above shoulder level, I've got no strength in my upper body once I do. Weird but it's always been that way)

So Plan A was to use the borrowed mast ladder which hoists up the mainsail luff groove. The only problem was that it would'nt hoist up our luff slot. Even after we'd run a silicon soaked rag up the groove several times to clean and lubricate it, the bullets on the ladder were just a fraction too big and tight in the slot.

That left us with Plan B.

Having seen Mark struggle at times with a tendency to slide out of our bosuns chair, I'd purchased a fall arrest harness from Toolstation (note: if you decide to follow my example, make sure you get the one with the front attachment loops as well as the rear D ring). I planned to use this in conjunction with the chair.

I'd also purchased several meters of 6mm braided cord. It doesn't really matter what it is as long as it's low stretch and significantly smaller than the halyard size. That actually was a bit of an issue for us as our halyards are only 8mm but it turned out OK ...

I strapped myself into the fall arrest harness and then happily found that the bosun's chair would neatly clip onto the same carabiner as the front loops on the harness. This proved an extremely comfortable and secure setup.

With the main halyard was attached to the front carabiner and the spinnaker halyard rigged temporarily back to the opposite set of clutches and attached to the dorsal D-ring as a backup safety we had Tony on the task of hoisting me up and Jane on the job of keeping me from making a mess of the deck if the main gear failed.

The jib halyard had been pressed into service as a temporary topping lift allowing the topping lift to be rigged back to the mast foot and tensioned up as much as possible as a climbing line

Using the 6mm cord, I'd dredged the memories of my brief climbing experience in my dim and distant youth (and then cheated by looking it up online!) and made up a prussik loop with two foot loops. This was made up onto the topping lift..

Using this I could stand up to take my weight off the harness / chair allowing Tony to easily recover the slack. Slide the prussik up another foot and repeat. It wasn't rapid but it was effective, safe and surprisingly easy.

Once up there, I felt so safe and comfortable that I partook of a cigar whilst the deck crew sorted out the kit I needed to hoist aloft!

Removing the old antenna, the likely source of the problem seemed obvious. The poor quality bullet connection that is used on cheap VHF antennas was badly corroded.

I now had a problem though. It proved totally impossible to solder a PL259 plug to the antenna cable. The soldering iron wouldn't stay hot enough for long enough - I could get it up to working temperature holding it in the kit bag out of the breeze but as soon as it was removed it lost heat instantly. Trying to rig the bag around the cable wasn't working either.

To solve the issue, Tony removed one of the push fit solder-less PL259 plugs off my VSWR meter patch lead and sent that aloft. It went on seemingly OK although I had my doubts. It was but the work of moments to bolt on the Metz antenna we'd removed from the stern rail, where it had been serving as the AIS aerial, and connect it up.

With the joint taped up, the last thing I did before descending was to give the Wind Instrument head a serious dose of silicon lubricant spray.

Coming down was easy. Tony lowered me without difficulty with four turns of the halyard on the winch drum. It would have been quicker if I'd discarded the prussik loop but I kept it in place and slid it down the topping lift as I went as a backup. The spinny halyard caught up on a diverter block which was a nuisance but ascending back up a foot or so allowed me to clear it.

Back on deck I was very happy to relax with a coffee and a cigar! I'd been up the mast for getting on for two hours altogether and whilst it had never been unpleasant and I'd felt safe and comfortable throughout I wasn't sorry to get back down!

Even more pleasing was to get a response from Thames Coastguard that we were now loud and clear on both the Southend and Bradwell aerials. That's a first! (Over the weekend, we'd hear Ostend for the first time ever so even before it failed completely the old antenna was nowhere near as effective)

The last job of the day was to fit the new AIS aerial to the stern rail and connect it up.

Then it was time to get under way for the first time since last November!

We'd been invited to join the crew of Laurin for takeaway curry so we made haste downriver under motor (the wind, such as it was, was due wrong) and into an overnight visitor berth in Burnham Yacht Harbour.

Another Co-op raid was required (we kept on running out of things all trip which is unusual, we're normally better organised!) and then a very pleasant evening of good food, fine beer and excellent company ensued.

The only looming fly in the ointment was a rather less than wonderful weather forecast but more of that tomorrow ...

Sprung is Spring (Days 1 & 2)

Day 1 largely consisted of arriving on board, going to sleep, waking up, drinking coffee and going to the pub! Tony joined us after lunchtime and he and I went on a chandlery raiding party but that was about as exciting as the day got so we'll move swiftly on to day 2!

It was a murky misty start to Thursday morning ...



(pic courtesy of Tony)

... and we were slow getting started due to a distinct lack of enthusiasm! Once we got going, the first order of business was to check over the engine after its winter hibernation.

The heat exchanger anode was barely half worn so that's got some life in it yet and apart from that all that was needed was to wash the water filter. Then it was time to fire her up and give her a run

Happily, she started the moment I pressed the button and ran sweetly although a certain amount of muddy silt was initially ejected from the exhaust. That'll be down to my faux pas of pumping the seawater system full of mud the other week! It soon ran clear again.

Less happily, we found that the morse control lever was reluctant to engage gear. Some fiddling and faffing about later, we managed to adjust it properly

We'd purchased the new rope to replace the badly frayed genoa sheets yesterday so Tony set about whipping an eye into the end of each line. This would later be bent on to the genoa clew with the existing soft shackle

The new sheets are colour coded. Red fleck for port, green fleck for starboard. This is part of a cunning plan to overcome Jane's innate inability to tell left from right or port from starboard. In future I'll be able to refer to "Red" or "Green" and she'll know what I mean (I hope!)

Whilst that job was in progress in the cockpit, I fetched my battery testing kit from the car. Outcome was that our domestic batteries are a little below par. Not enough to make immediate replacement a necessity though.

However, that may be due to the charger being configured for sealed batteries whereas ours are open cell. Add to that a rather short absorption cycle time for the size of battery bank and it's no great surprise that the batteries were somewhat under charged.

I reconfigured the charger to reflect the size and type of batteries inn our battery bank and we'll monitor their performance for a while before deciding whether it's time to shell out for new ones or not.

Various other minor tasks were dealt with culminating in the removal of the cockpit tent and preparations for tomorrow's mast climbing endeavours which included a trip to Burnham to borrow the mast ladder off "Laurin".

Whilst in Burnham, the ingredients for a hearty stew were procured from the Co-op. Edit: The chef has insisted that I make it clear that there was no heart in the stew,, that would be offal. It contained nothing but the very best beef. We consumed said beefy stew and a bottle or two from the No.1 Beer Hold.

There endeth the second day ...

She scrubs up well for her age

The boat that is

After twelve days living on board, it was nearly time to head back to the bricks and mortar home for a week

The first task of the day was to get the final coat of Woodskin on the locker lids so that they could be reinstalled first thing in the morning

I'd been pretty good on the domestic front, you have to keep on top of things on a small boat really, but even so Erbas would benefit from a good clean

The fo'c'sle had only been used for storage so that didn't need much attention at all. The heads however benefited from a really good clean from top to bottom and inside out.

In the process, I found that the suspected leak was actually suntan lotion. Where that has come from I don't know!

Happily, with the temperature a little higher out than it had been all week, the Woodskin was by now dry enough to permit careful handling so I set about screwing them back in place. That would save time in the morning

I'd received an invite to dine aboard Laurin in Burnham so it being last afternoon I quickly scrubbed up and headed over.

The invite was doubly useful as, apart from the pleasure of some company, Erbas' stores are running a bit low in the meals for one department. We're trying to use up what's there before restocking.

After a good night's sleep, the wind having dropped at last after ten days of westerly gales (not sure it was ten days but it seemed like it), it was time to finish off the scrub up, down (whatever) and get away as early as possible

So I offloaded my kit bag etc to the car and then gave the saloon and galley a good clean.

On with the wellies and out with the hose next. The cockpit was very dusty from sanding the locker lids but it soon responded to a good sluicing out followed by a scrub.

Not only did that see off the dust, it also dealt with the green slime that was trying to invade the boat via the underside of the duck boards!



The end result looks very tidy.

With the wellies on and the hose out anyway, I set about giving the decks a good scrub and wash down. Much better! Although I think we're getting close to having to repaint the topsides

The last chapter in this installment was the worst yet journey between the boat and Kettering or vice versa. I won't bore you with the details, suffice it to day that it was tedious in the extreme.

I'm next aboard in just a week with Tony and I arriving for a few days of fitting out and hopefully a little jaunt to Bradwell