Sunday, 25 November 2012

VOYAGE to VICTORY


MEET MISSEE LEE

Missee Lee is a 25’ (British) Hunter. She was my first cruising boat. I berthed her at Woolverstone,  on the River Orwell, for four years.  When I set up home in Poole, I sailed her south during a spring cruise.

The cruise developed a “Victory” theme. We sailed up the Medway and found a berth at Victory Moorings – in the midst of the Historic Chatham Dockyard. In Portsmouth we tied up opposite HMS Victory herself.

Missee Lee’s connection with tall ships didn’t end with her arrival at her new berth in Poole. We spotted many a square rigged ship in the harbour itself, off St Alban’s head, or on passage from Poole

 

VICTORY MOORINGS, CHATHAM

HMS Gannet. Rapier bowed; Built for speed; Built for Gunboat diplomacy; Built to hold station at sea when larger craft were running for shelter.

Powered by sail and steam; Fleet footed whatever the weather. Framed in iron and planked in teak; A Victorian composite.

Her career started in the Pacific during the guano wars. She suffered the ignominy of conversion to a cadet accommodation ship in later years. Now she is restored to her former glory. Men are back in her tops. A crane sways up her yards.

 

HMS VICTORY, PORTSMOUTH

 

A bluff bowed “wooden wall,” from an age of floating castles. Planked with New Forest oak,two feet thick, at her waterline A pugnacious bulldog of the seas.

Victory's sides bristle with 106 cannon. The bulldog has bark and bite. One gun deck is set close above another. There is no height for a man to stand 'tween decks. 850 sailors packed this space; Living, eating, sleeping, fighting, dying in this dark, pitching, rolling, damp and airless world.

 In the battles of Ushant, Cape St Vincent and Trafalgar these gun decks were filled with smoke, men, cannon, flying shards of timber, a cacophony of sound, gore; the chaos of battle. A brutal, point blank, bludgeoning, eviscerating, ship to ship, hand to hand, crushing, warfare

Nelson, master tactician, commands from the Great Cabin. Compared to the ‘tween decks, an oasis of light and order. Brains over brawn; his slight figure leads the might of the battle fleet.

In his hour of victory, at Trafalgar, Nelson is felled by a musket ball. A sniper, perched high in the enemy rigging, fires the fatal shot. A poignant silver disk, let into the deck, marks the spot, once puddled with Nelson's life blood.

Nelson and Victory sail into British Folk and Naval history. Nelson to his rest in St Paul's Cathedral; Victory to her's in, Victory Dock, Portsmouth Naval Dockyard.

 

 

TALL SHIP SIGHTINGS, FROM POOLE

 

Under sail off St Albans Head

In Poole Harbour entrance

Alongside Poole Quay

Anchored off Dartmouth

Tuesday, 20 November 2012

POOLE DOLPHIN


A word of introduction

Goblin is an Elan 31. She was Stargazer’s predecessor. This is a picture of her in L’Aber Wrac’h. Here is the tale of her first meeting with a Dolphin.

A Dolphin’s Tale

 We’ve had a fast beat up from Poole, as the sun rises. An empty, pink tinged, horizon lies before us. We slice south, down the Swash channel.  Goblin’s stem parts a sea of the deepest blue; and sends a bow wave tumbling, musically, aft along her sides. We tack off Old Harry. I line Goblin’s forestay up on the hazy smudge of the Needles, the tide helping us eastward.

We’re off the Shingles Bank now. The sun is high in the sky. It has sucked the power out of the breeze.  Goblin rolls on the swell, barely making way under main and 110% jib. I go forward and hoist her 140% genoa, on the second luff track; before dropping the small jib. Goblin starts to gather way.

 

 I stand, loose kneed, as the foredeck rises and falls rhythmically beneath my spread feet; enjoying the sensation of Goblin coming alive again, under her enlarged rig. The cooling breeze, of her rising apparent wind, is welcome after the exertion of the sail change. I drink in the view forward. The white of the Needles, the red of the lighthouse, the bold striping of the Alum Bay cliffs, the emerald green heath above.

 

 
I feel watched. I am watched! A lone dolphin hovers, vertical in the water. He’s fully immersed, head tilted, right eye looking up at me. I move to the rail. He responds. The game is on. Away he darts, under the forefoot, behind the genoa. Hide and seek!
He reappears to port, to windward. This time he fully surfaces. Again he looks up, then he dives; disappears.
 
 
He resurfaces noisily astern and matches our slow pace alongside; dives again and rolls onto his back.
 
Beneath the bow his white form matches Goblin, move for move; mouth open – for all the world as if he’s laughing.  When I move from the bow, he moves too, and resurfaces alongside my new vantage point on the side deck.

 

The sea breeze starts to make; gusting and veering.  The genoa flogs, headed by the shift. I jump back into the cockpit, take Goblin off autopilot and nurse her back up to speed. When I look round, from the tiller, for my dolphin companion, the sea is empty. He’s tired of the game, gone off to find new playmates; left me energised and uplifted, feeling privileged to have been a part of his world for an enchanted hour.

 

The breeze settles into the South West and builds. It’ll be a fast reach down to Hurst, on the last of the flood. Goblin swoops and surfs exuberantly in the wind driven swell. Her soaring motion matches the soaring in my heart. Our encounter with the dolphin has cast a spell over both of us. That magic is too precious to break, by joining the weekend throngs, in Yarmouth or Beaulieu.

 

 I bring Goblin head to wind behind the spit at Keyhaven and drop anchor. The shingle glows a tawny gold in the setting sun, the lighthouse is a pristine white sentinel. My ears are filled with the slithering scrunch of waves on the bank; the buffeting of the breeze funneling above our protective rampart; and the cry of wild fowl, roosting, like us, for the night. Goblin lies snug in the lee of the bank, wings folded. My heart soars on.

 

 

 

Sunday, 11 November 2012

Vendee Globe Race 2012 - 2013

Today the Vendee Globe fleet began their race around the world.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvKhslDFOyk .On past form the leaders will be back within 80 to 100 days. A marathon voyage, taken at a sprinting pace.
The start coverage triggers memories of Stargazer's leisurely summer in Biscay, when I glimpse Les Sables d'Olonne's familiar breakwater.....
......and see the Open 60's plunge and rear over the same swell that we rode.
I picture the race banners. In July they were already hung from every lamp post, in the streets above the canal. I imagine those same streets thronged, now, with well wishers; cheering the racers as they leave.
Today the boats crossing the start line, on my PC screen, bring sparks of recognition. It's as if I'm picking out familiar faces in a crowd:
Bernard Stamm's bright yellow Cheminees Poujoulat is up towards front of the fleet, in third place. Stargazer sailed into Brest with him rapidly overhauling us. I watched for a gale bound week as he put the boat through her paces daily, flying up and down the Rade.
In seventh is Arnaud Boissieres aboard the sinister black Akena Verandes. I watched her being rigged and fitted out alongside the pontoons in Les Sables d'Olonne. Crowds of screwdriver weilding technicians, ant like on her decks.
Javier Sanso, lying tenth, aboard Acciona was in Brest too. The bright red hull, lined with solar panels along the gunwale and filled with alternative energy ideas, is instantly recognisable.
In June Dominique Wavre was in La Rochelle, when we passed through. The smart, angular blue and white hulled, Mirabaud was freshly launched, and in final commissioning. Today she's back in fifteenth. They got caught up in some start line over- exuberance, that saw almost a quarter of the fleet cross early, and had to go back to restart.
"The Everest of Sailing" is how the race start commentators describe the Vendee Globe. Its an achievement to complete the course, a triumph to win. Follow the race on http://www.vendeeglobe.org/en/

Sunday, 4 November 2012

AN AUTUMN DAY


An Arrowhead of breeze spears over the water. It fans out, among glittering pin point reflections, darkening the surface of the sea.  The chime of halyard against mast, all across the marina, announces the arrival of the gust. Stargazer tugs restlessly at her lines. They stiffen, groan in protest, and then relax. Stargazer settles back alongside the pontoon, as the gust passes . The forecast Westerly 7 is building. We won’t be going out this weekend.

The wind has chased the clouds from the sky, leaving it a clear autumn royal blue; deeper and crisper than the blue of a summer sky. The sun is low. Even though it’s mid-morning it casts long shadows. Standing in the companionway, sheltered by the windscreen, I feel the sun warm my back. My coffee mug steams in my hand. I look out across the bay. The tide is low. Geese are crowded on the humped back of an exposed shoal. The black and white of their plumage is picked out by the sun; accentuated against a backcloth of glistening, grey harbour mud; and framed by the shimmering indigo of the sea.

Stargazer’s cockpit is still wet with the night’s dew. The sun bathes her decks and companionway in light, glints off her cockpit coamings; but is not yet high enough to peer into the cockpit itself. The teak is a pleasing chestnut brown. I run my eyes appreciatively down the black caulking lines. The sun peeps over the coaming and warms the aft corner of the side bench; turns it from brown to silver. The silver patch begins to spread.  The cockpit is drying. My eye returns to the cockpit sole, still in shadow. I notice tell-tale white speckles, clustered like chicken-pox, along the caulked seams. They weren’t visible when the cockpit was silver dry yesterday evening. I know that they will turn into green or black mould as winter deepens, unless I do something to protect the wood.

It’s a perfect day to give Stargazer’s teak some winter protection. Crisp,bright and breezy. Good drying weather. “Boracol 10RH” is the treatment recommended by Hallberg- Rassy. I know that it works, from conversations with the owner of a Nauticat in Poole and a Malo in Ile d’Yeu. Both boats were ten plus years old and looked as if they were newly commissioned. The downside with Boracol is that it costs about £70 for 5 litres. I read about an alternative treatment on the ybw Practical Boat Owner forum. It’s called “Patio Magic”, costs £19 for 5 litres and contains Benzalkonium Chloride, the same active ingredient as Boracol. The main difference (apart from price) is that Boracol is a 10% solution, whereas Patio Magic is 7.5%. I head for the local DIY store to get some Patio Magic while the sun gets to work drying Stargazer’s cockpit.

An hour later, I’m back aboard. The cockpit is silver and dry. I set to work. There’s something therapeutic, and conducive to reflection, in brushing the thin, clear liquid into the teak. I move round Stargazer clockwise: sugar scoop, stern gunwale, cockpit, coach roof grab rails, port gunwale, starboard gunwale. The sun is warm on my face and the breeze ruffles my hair as I work. There’s a rhythm to it. Dip brush, one long slow stroke, quick spreading strokes, stand, shift along, crouch, dip brush…..Round and round Stargazer I go. By the time I complete a circuit the solution has soaked in and the wood is thirsty for its next coat. Small wind-blown waves chase round Stargazer’s waterline, chuckling musically as I work, following me as I circle the deck. I complete four circuits before the teak’s thirst seems slaked. On the fourth the solution lies for a while on the surface, before being sipped, rather than gulped, into the wood.

I had expected the Benzalkonium Chloride solution to take some time to work. I was a pleasantly surprised to find that the Patio Magic cleared areas that were starting to “green,” instantly. By the following morning, despite an overnight downpour, the chicken-pox were gone too. Time will tell how long the treatment lasts. At about a quarter of the price of Boracol I’d feel quite happy to be applying Patio Magic twice a year to Boracol’s once – if that turns out to be necessary. Stargazer’s teak will be getting the same protection for half the cost, or less.

 As I circled the deck with brush in hand, the song of the wind in my ears and the sun on my back; a question occurred to me. It was sparked by the Patio Magic versus Boracol experience: 75% of the result (grams of Benzalkonium Chloride delivered) for 25% of the cost. 

 I asked myself: “Do I really need a marina berth? Is it value for money?  Do I need all that it offers?“ My annual marina berth contract accounts for 20% of my entire annual cost of living. This year I was away, on The Living The Dream Cruise 2012, for five months. The berth lay empty for almost half the year. Should I have a rethink about how I berth Stargazer in 2013?  I live beside Holes Bay, in the sheltered upper reaches of Poole Harbour.  There’s not a lot of water in Holes Bay, but there are some moorings deep enough for Stargazer. They are a viable all year option too. Holes Bay is closely ringed by land and so relatively sheltered. A harbour commission annual mooring in Holes Bay is one quarter of the cost of my annual marina contract.

There are some plusses to being on a mooring besides the cost.  It’s easier to pick up a mooring singlehanded, than to come alongside in a marina, for one.

 There are some hidden costs with a mooring: I’d have to buy a decent rigid dinghy; plus find a convenient place to keep the dinghy, of course - and pay for it; And it'd probably be as well to upgrade Stargazer’s solar battery charging , from one “roving” 48w panel to 80-120w permanently mounted set up. I suspect that I'd have change out of the first year's berth contract savings after the upgrades, though; and upping Stargazer's solar panel capacity would increase our fredom when cruising.

 Perhaps a more difficult hurdle to overcome is how to do without electricity to run a heater and dehumidifier. I usually run a dehumidifier to keep winter damp and at bay and a heater whenever sub-zero temperatures are forecast. I'd also need to figure out where to conveniently replenish drinking water. My habits would have to change. I wouldn’t be able to just walk down to Stargazer for a cup of coffee and a “time out” either ….although I always find a quiet row is good for my soul……

No answers on the berth question for now.  It’s a question that I’ll be teasing away at over the winter months though....