The Snowman's Tale

Frosty smiles broadly. This is his favourite time of the year. As he strides out, stick arms spread, to do the Christmas shopping, his coal black eyes glow with excitement.

For several weeks, the decorations have been up, on Chatham High Street ;

 

and holly berries have brightened the hedgerows ;

But the weather has been unseasonably mild. Rendering it risky, for a snowman to venture out.

Lest he might melt, in the midday sun.

Now, a blanket of snow shrouds Kent. By day, temperatures barely rise above freezing. By night, they plunge far below. The perfect conditions for Frosty's festive preparations.

The waters, of Dockyard Basin number One, are skinned with ice. Dulling the surface. Save for a glistening leat, incised by the launch, during its daily patrol of the marina.

Aboard Stargazer, I discover a half bucket of (fresh) water in the bilge. Fearing ice damaged plumbing, despite the placement of precautionary heaters, I raise the sole boards, to seek out its source. Then set about emptying the cockpit locker's contents into the saloon.

The number one suspect is the calorifier (hot water tank). Which is located beneath the cockpit locker and therefore only indirectly warmed by the cabin heaters. Usually I would run its built in immersion heater, during a cold snap. But failed to do so on the first night of this freeze.

After two days of trials, to reproduce the leak, I trace it to the domestic water pump, which is located in the engine bay. Right next to one of the heaters. Age, rather than cold, appears to be the villain, in this Christmas Whodunnit.

Slowly the snow thaws, in the grounds of the former Royal Naval College (reborn as the University of Greenwich).

Frosty, back from the shops, waits pensively beside his front gate. Hoping for a Happy Christmas.

Hibernation

 

Molten sunlight spills across the rain streaked sky, like a lava flow. Silhouetting the stiletto spire, of Rochester's mediaeval cathedral, and the square-set Norman keep of its castle. Setting the ripples, of the receding tide, and the mudflats which it reveals, aglow. 

Mother Nature has chosen November, in which to redress the balance, for a summer of unprecedented sunshine. Abundant autumn rainfall spurs a bounteous profusion of Shaggy Parasol mushrooms. They glow like pale moons, in the half light of shortening days, beneath the bramble thickets, which line Faversham Creek.

Beyond them, momentary shafts of sun, refugees from summer-past, flit across waterlogged pastures. Illuminating golden leaves and indigo skies.

Aboard Stargazer, the electronics upgrade, begun last winter, is completed. The B&G Zeus plotter (obtained, on my behalf, at the Southampton Boat Show) is installed. Routes and waypoints, from Stargazer's twelve years of wandering, stored in the Navionics App on my iPad, transfer into it, via a built in Wi-Fi. Along with daily over-the-air chart corrections. 

An aerospace derived, nine axis, motion sensor replaces the autopilot's simple gyro-compass.  It is able to read pitch, roll and yaw, as well as heading. The better to cope with Atlantic swells. It is larger, as well as more capable, than the original unit. But is eventually persuaded into the confines of Stargazer's bilge.

It is located directly over the (lead, therefore non-magnetic) keel, at Stargazer's centre of rotation. The optimum location.

The control head neatly fits the hole, left by the removal of its predecessor, at the helm station.

December is soon upon us. Bringing crisp clear days, to the Medway.

The arrival of an arctic air mass, banishes the banks of billowing, rain bearing clouds, from  Dockyard Basin number One. 

Under blue skies, on a still winter's day, I stow Stargazer's sails, for their annual valet. Shedding wooly hat and down jacket as the work, and strength of the sun warm me. Cruising memories course pleasurably through my mind.

For Stargazer and I this sailing season is over. Stargazer is snugged down, to hibernate over Christmas. We both eagerly wait, to discover what fresh adventures the New Year will bring.