Winter Work 9

 

Stargazer's skipper makes his annual London pilgrimage. To submit documention in support of his six month French Visa de Long Sejour application.

Stargazer is joined in the yard by yachting royalty. In the form of Sir Alec Rose's Lively Lady. ( See this post for his & her story)

Her long keel's towering draft requires deployment of the, rarely resorted to, 'Big Cradle.' Despite her slender beam and modest (thirty six foot) length. 

 Work is crossed off Stargazer's spring fit out list: Engine service, Saildrive oil change, replace anodes, polish hull, two coats of antifoul. But unexpected jobs are added: Replace the engine starter panel, which fails whilst testing the motor post service; Replace the diesel tank deck filler valve, which has developed a slow weep over the winter; Repair or replace the anemometer cups, of the masthead wind instrument (only five years old), which have unaccountably seized since the autumn. Parts are sought. Meanwhile the countdown, to April's lock closure, ticks inexorably by.

Winter Work 8

 

Lifted, in all senses. Both Stargazer's hull and her skipper's heart. To mark this moment, sunshine breaks through the grey winter cloud canopy. Injecting colour, warmth and optimism.

An early start, and a cheeky enquiry, have brought Stargazer to the head of the haul out queue. Of boats whose spring crane bookings have been delayed by high winds, staff shortage or mechanical breakdown. Creating the usual lift out lottery. In which a persistent, yet cheerful, presence often provides the winning ticket.

A mostly mild off-season has proven fruitful for marine growth. But the Shogun 033 antifoul has kept molluscs at bay. And a verdant accumulation of slime is soon pressure washed clear.

There is added urgency to Stargazer's spring refit this year. We normally set sail, for the summer, in mid-April. Propelled south by the north-easterly winds which often prevail during the month. But this year the lock will be closed, for maintenance, throughout April.

Unless we can leave before Easter, Stargazer will be trapped in Dockyard Basin No.1 until May. By which time the wind is likely to have switched to the south west (headwind), passage ports will be busy and cruising time (and range) curtailed.

Before the annual flurry of scraping, painting, polishing and engine servicing begins, Stargazer and her skipper pause to savour the heady prospect of the summer ahead. Basking before the ornate Victorian brickwork of The Pump House. Which once housed the steam boilers, that operated this naval drydock in its shipbuilding heyday. And is now home to the burnished retorts of the Copper Rivet distillery.

Winter Work 7

 Two frozen tenders huddle together for warmth, at the head of Faversham Creek.

Solid fuel stoves warm the liveaboard boats on Standard Quay. Scenting the air, with the deep tarry tang of coal and salty driftwood topnotes, through makeshift stacks.

Beyond the bohemian boatyard, and its backdrop of neatly ordered apartments, a footpath leads onto the seawall. Shadowed white, where the midday sun has yet to fall and the night frost lingers.

Spoonbills saunter in the shallow remnants of the channel. Which is navigable for an hour or so, either side of high water, by mariners strong of nerve and shallow of draft.

Thus a favourite with Thames Barge skippers. Who, in summer, guide their historic craft up from the Swale, following the extravagant meanders. On a ‘touch and go’ basis.

After, perhaps, pausing in the Shipwright's Arms at Hollowshore. Sited where Oare Creek and Faversham Creek combine to empty seaward.

It is a tranquil spot in which to wait for a favourable tide. Set amid wind tousled rushes and rolling countryside. 

Quintessentially coastal Kent.

Winter Work 6

 

In a blaze of pied wingbeats, an Avocet alights. Casting its long shadow upon the glutinous bank of the rill. Which shelters the new arrival from a piercing arctic breeze. The bird surveys the shimmering waters, as they drain swiftly between its slender grey legs. Its scimitar beak and bold plumage mirrored sharp and clear.

As the tide recedes, so the land advances. Whilst the salt tolerant sedge stands its ground. Stoically watching this twice daily dance of the elements. A Redshank emerges from within intertwined stems. Enticed by a freshly formed pool.

Busily, the Redshank scurries about the mudflats. Like its surroundings, perpetually in motion. Like the Avocet, its eyes intent and beak poised, searching for the stirrings of a subsurface meal.

Teal too are down, this morning. They favour south facing slopes. Basking in the low winter sun, between languid dips.

The Avocet paces methodically seaward. Scything the silt, with its long black beak, sifting for a snack. Once beyond the lee of the earth ramparts, the keen wind shatters the stealthy hunter’s snowy reflection.

On the sea wall, red berried branches sway. Beyond them stretches the limitless horizon of the salt marsh. The air is laden with the cries of wildfowl and with saline scents. Which belong neither to shore nor sea, but are unique to these enigmatic wetlands.