Winter Work 2

Stargazer sailed, for most of the 2025 season, with an improvised dyneema backstay. Plus its redundant predecessor, which I was loath to cut away, loosely lashed to the pushpit beside it.’Just in case.’

Stargazer's sails and spars are supported by stays and halyards made from stainless steel wire rope. Eyes are formed, in their ends, by means of crimped copper ferrules. 

These can create a point of failure, if an oblique load is applied. Acting as an anvil, which cuts the strands of the wire rope.

On the first day of the Zen Again cruise, Stargazer's rousing beat out to the North Foreland was abruptly cutailed.

When her jib tumbled to the deck, due to halyard failure. The new jib was slightly longer, in the luff, than its predecessor. Which caused an oblique pull, at the furrule, on the (also new) halyard.

With Stargazer's weather window closing fast, Alan and Sarah (aka Wilkinson Sails) pulled out all the stops. Replacing the halyard and modifying the sail, in time for us to catch our tide.

However, sobered by the jib halyard failure, Stargazer's skipper sailed south with a closer eye than usual upon her rig. And noticed that the backstay tensioner had an eye, with an obliquely loaded ferrule, where it entered its turning block.

Whilst waiting for wind, in Le Havre, a plan is hatched for a DIY solution to Stargazer's latent backstay problem. Prevention is better than cure, where the security of the rig is concerned.

A (longer) temporary backstay tensioner is fashioned from dyneema. A fibre both stronger and lighter than wire rope. But less resistant to chafe and ultraviolet degradation. 

This temporary fix sees Stargazer through the season. Albeit with signs of chafe evident, by the time we return to Chatham. Caused by the soft dyneema running on a sheave which has been roughened by abrasive wire rope. 

A November visit, to Wilkinson Sails' Faversham Creek loft, secures Stargazer a replacement backstay tensioner. It is made from wire rope and the same length as the DIY dyneema stopgap. To keep the copper ferrule well clear of the turning block.

 

Winter Work 1

"You cannot make an omelette without breaking some eggs. " It is nonetheless never wracking, to be taking a saw to Stargazer's fuel tank.

Beneath the comfortable cushions of Stargazer's starboard settee. . . . .

. . . . . lie both a food locker and the diesel tank. The latter had developed a leak, around the filler inlet, early on in the Zen Again cruise. Which was managed by a combination of keeping the tank level low; winding, frequently changed, rags around the leak point; and storing only tinned food, impervious to taint, in the locker.

All attempts at a DIY fix, by dismantling and resealing the threads on the fuel inlet pipework, failed to resolve the fault.

On our return home, I called Simon French, diesel mechanic extraordinaire. He made short work of removing the tank completely. Its contents temporarily decanted into a blue drum stood, on the cabin sole, up forward.

A pressure test, in Simon's Brighlingsea workshop, revealed that the leak was not coming from within the threaded joint. Instead, the thermal bond, between the threaded metal insert and the plastic of the tank top, had failed. Allowing diesel to escape around the outside.

It was time for some French Marine magic: 

The leaking insert was skilfully cut away, without enlarging the hole in the tank (top picture). A modified insert was fabricated - longer and threaded both externally and internally. The internal threads to accomodate the original inlet pipework. The external threads to take two large additional nuts. One inside the tank, the other on top. These clamping down on nitrile-cork washers to create a seal.(Above picture.) Overnight, the 5 psi pressure test was repeated. Successfully this time.

Zen Again 166

 Stargazer makes her stately way home. Slipping west, past the open East Coast horizons of the Swale, toward the Medway.  Borne by the flood tide and the dying embers of ‘our’ breeze.

The previous day, a Yorkshireman, a Dutchman (out of shot) and Stargazer's skipper, from Kent, assembled in the five o'clock Sovereign Harbour lock. Three thirty footers with their eyes set upon a home run. With a forty eight hour weather window before them. Bound for Hull, Hansweert and Chatham respectively.

Soon, the sun pulls aside grey curtains, of cloud, to dispel the darkness and peer out at a new day.

Stargazer lopes over a long low swell, twelve knots of breeze on the beam. The three little ships forge their way steadily east across Pevensey Bay. Fanning out, as each skipper follows their own version of the rhumb line.

We are drawn onward by a glinting crock of gold on the horizon. 

The Dutchman is hampered, by a need to use his jib halyard to hold up his mast. Instead of to hoist his genoa. His inner forestay having failed, during the hectic conditions of his arrival, in Eastbourne. Leaving him with the unenviable choice of either limping, under main only, or motor-sailing. Which he alternates. True sailor at heart.

The Yorkshireman's Jeanneau proves a tougher nut to crack. Until the breeze backs south easterly and rises to sixteen knots. When Stargazer's low slung lead keel comes into its own.

Stargazer strides off across Ryde Bay, leaving the Jeanneau dwindling astern.

Stargazer seeks the first signs, of the distinctive square Dungeness turbine towers, on the skyline. Whilst her skipper enjoys a hot crossed bun elevenses, in the cockpit. To celebrate the tide turning in our favour. Stargazer now making better than six knots. Spray licking her leeward decks.

Wind and tide whistle us past the tip of the great shingle spur.

Where we bear off for Dover. The white cliffs already visible. Stargazer’s kite is hoisted, to hasten progress. For, as the tide strengthens the wind (as forecast) is weakening.

Stargazer dives down toward the Dover docks. Where the Dutchman, later (as seen on AIS), diverts for the night. Slowed by his crippled rig; and too late on this tide to gainfully continue.

Whereas Stargazer still has three hours of fair tide before her. We ride it, past the South Foreland, Deal and Pegwell Bay.

Stargazer puts into Ramsgate for the night. By dusk, the Jeanneau joins us. Showing true Yorkshire grit, her skipper takes a short nap. Before a two o'clock departure, with the next Channel tide north. Stargazer has an easier time of it. The Thames tide turns at ten tomorrow. Affording her softer southern skipper a full night's sleep. Much needed.

Stargazer follows the morning dogwalkers, along the under cliff. Cheating the Channel tide, which flows against us.

We stay in close, up to Broadstairs. Hugging the beach, off which Ted Heath (the man who brought Britain into Europe) once sailed his Fireball dinghy. Before graduating to Morning Cloud glory.

Off the North Foreland, merchantmen begin to swing at their anchors. Indicating that the tide is about to turn in Stargazer's favour.

We shall need its assistance. Today's breeze is fair, but fitfull and light. And too far forward for the kite to draw. Stargazer ambles west, into the Thames estuary.

Gradually, the chalk cliffs and shingle beaches, of Margate, give way to. . . . .

. . . . . rolling green Kentish countryside, at Reculver.

Out to starboard, beyond the Whitstable windfarm, the London River bustles about its cargo carrying business.

Cindy the sailmaker, heading for the Swale aboard her cat-ketch, welcomes Stargazer back to home waters. Snapping our portrait as she passes. A gift for which we thank her!

Zen Again 165

 

Discretion proves to be the better part of valour, for one solo Dragonfly skipper. Tempted out, by twenty five, gusting thirty, knots of breeze, for a spot of speed sailing. But, perhaps not anticipating the boisterous sea state associated with a south easterly. To which this corner of Pevensey Bay is fully open.

My thought provoking trimaran test sail, last autumn (See Baptism) was aboard a sister ship. It had left some unanswered questions. Which predominantly related to how such high speed craft might handle stronger winds and open water. This is my opportunity to find out.

I watch as the folding trimaran's port float is extended, in the calm of the lock. (Her beam would exceed the gate width, were she to deploy both.) With seas breaking in the Sovereign Harbour entrance, and her skipper fully occupied at the helm, the starboard float must remain folded. Until flatter water can be found further out.

Conditions at the Safe Water Mark are, if anything, even more lively. The very term an oxymoron. For outbound vessels at least. The doughty Dragonfly displays gratifying stability in her catamaran configuration. As she swoops over the swell and plumbs the depths of the troughs.

An about turn is soon executed. Tail to wind and wave, the Dragonfly's motion eases. Her light weight enabling her to surf. With just the windage of her spars and the, relatively puny, power of her outboard to propel her. The wise and seamanlike decision has been taken, to seek sanctuary.

My questions, about heavy airs Dragonfly handling, must wait for their answers. Certainly, none will be forthcoming today. When the breeze is moderating and veering east. For, the Dragonfly's aborted takeoff happened yesterday. Before a change in the weather.

For some days now, Saturday's forecast has predicted a (marginal) passage-making southerly. Now Sunday's forecast has followed suit. Whether this is under Gabrielle's influence (See Zen Again 163), I cannot say. But, if matched by reality, this forty eight hour window of fair breeze, may suffice to carry Stargazer home. With a little help from her kite.

Zen Again 164

 Light and shadow race across a boiling seascape. Scudding cloud seeking to outrun rolling wave.

Two cormorants perch. Their wings firmly folded, lest they be blown from their vantage point. Surrounded by a symphony of surf thunder, shingle growl and wind howl.

White horses vault weathered timbers, like steeplechasers. Shattering into a salt spray. Under their impetus the shingle is on the march, toward Beachy Head. Restrained only by ranks of gnarled guardsman groynes.

Between each wooden headland a crescent shaped bay is sculpted. Which climbs steeply clear of the seething crests.

To provide sanctuary, for a few remaining traditional beach-launch pot boats. Which, like their fellow fishers, the cormorants, roost out of reach of the waves. 

Small craft sailors reel across the writhing waters. Bobbing and weaving, as if the daily rum ration has been doubled, in celebration of their landfall.

They seek the still waters, which lie within Sovereign Harbour's lock gates. Where the visitors pontoon steadily fills, with craft awaiting their weather window for the Dover Strait.