Bridlington

Rafted to Phun, a Parker 31 built in Boston.

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I'm off!

On the phone, so short and sweet...
Left Saltfleet 18.00 on Wed.
Crossed the Humber with no wind, dropped the hook for the night north of Easington.
Yesterday, same wind.... Sailed to within 4 miles of Bridlington, then got the engine on.
Had food onboard Phun, a Parker 31, thanks to Pat and Pam.
Left Brid at 05.00. Wind F2 N/W, no use!
Engine on all morning, now crossing Filey bay on my way to Scarborough.

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Short update.

Not a lot of action lately, but I've been busy...

No sailing, just getting things sorted for the "big trip". Plan A is to head out of Saltfleet in about 2 weeks time and turn left. Main target is the River Tyne, but my plans have been known to go wrong - that's why I rarely make plans!

I'll be single-handed on the way up, that means both the windvane steering and the electric autopilot have to be working.
Electric one was easy, only problem was the plug/socket connector was on it's last legs and occasionally got stroppy and wouldn't let the electrickery go through. Found an identical one at Seamark Nunn, plug is fitted to the A/P, socket will be screwed on at the next visit to the boat.
Windvane frame has been bolted back on, although I lost a couple of bolts over the winter and I'll need to replace the replacements as they're not stainless...
The windvane has had a major makeover through the winter, with bits of it being dismantled, rebuilt, painted and fitted with "proper" bearings. Let's hope it works!

I've yet to fit the new "galley", a piece of plywood with a hole cut out for the Origo Heatpal to sit in. It'll make a change to cook without it sitting on the cabin sole! It'll go where the gas cooker was sat, and I'll be able to lift it out and sit it as low as possible when using it to heat me instead of my food...

Then there's the Rutland 503 windcharger. Still have to fit that and wire it in.

I'ts going to get even busier if  I'm going to be done in 2 weeks.

Just  to make it look pretty, here's a pic of the shiny new mooring!

Asking for a little help.

I've been digging around in the "technical" bits of the blog and noticed some strange things.

Firstly, a lot of people have been reading it. that's a bit of a surprise in itself as I only really started to keep a blog for my own use. It was just to be a record I could look back on when I start to go senile.
Some people that know me best think that started a while back...

The other thing is the number of different countries it has been read in, I've had to turn to Google to find out where one or two of them are!
Hands up, who could instantly point to Moldova on a map? (Moldovan readers are excluded!).

This brings me to the point of this short entry.

There have been quite a few readers who are based in China. This puzzled me for a while, which just goes to show that the senility might just be setting in.
The name of the boat might just be something to do with it. Doh!

So, to any Chinese visitors, I'm making an appeal for help.

Yuan Hang. The name of my boat. What does it mean?
I've tried online to get a translation, the closest thing I can find is something like "Sail Far" or "Long Voyage".
If I'm way off with my translation please let me know. The name came with the boat and I'm not going to be changing it. To know for sure it doesn't mean "Son of Titanic" would be great!

Second thing that's been a puzzle is the Chinese symbol on the sail, this one....

After looking at enough Chinese characters to almost get me speaking the language, I've asked elsewhere and have been told that it's the symbol for "Water", but that someone has made a cockup and it's a mirror image!
It seems that someone had the transfers made up wrongly, and it's been there for the best part of 30 years unquestioned!

So, Chinese speakers attracted by my Chinese named boat, I ask for your comments.

6/7/april/2011

I've made my mind up that I'm going to be doing some sailing this year, having spent most of the last year trying to remember what it's like. But I've probably said that every year....
Anyway, the weather looked OK, so I made a decision (I do that now and again!) and threw as much gear into the car as I  thought I'd need and headed for Saltfleet. I'd sleep on the boat, then finish off connecting up the outboard cables in the morning (I'd dropped the engine back into the boat on a previous visit) before heading into the North Sea for the day.

It was dark before I reached the moorings, so most of the gear was left in the car, just took the food and sleeping bag with me onboard - there was enough junk lying around in the cabin from previous visits anyway.
Too early to sleep yet, I settled down with a book for an hour or so before turning in early, I wanted an early start as the plan was to be off the mooring by 7am.
I dropped off pretty quickly as I usually do, but not for long.....
At midnight I was jumping up, banging my head on things and generally trying to work out where the hell I was and what the **** that noise was! I remembered wasn't at home, so gave up trying to turn the bedside lamp on.
I eventually worked out I was on the boat, and that the noise was an alarm clock. But I hadn't set one. And it was pitch black outside!
I found the clock and fumbled with the buttons until the shrieking stopped.
It was the clock which lives permanently onboard, and had been set for midnight - obviously by accident. The thing is, it must have been going off at midnight every night for months! Good job it's very rare anyone else sleeps onboard at Saltfleet... I could have been public enemy No1 by now.
It took me a while in half-asleep mode to work out how to switch the alarm off completely, but having done so I settled back down to sleep. At least I tried to.
Dozing and waking for the next couple of hours wasn't what I'd planned. It even got chilly enough that I had to find some extra clothes and wriggle into them before eventually dropping off until daylight disturbed the already disturbed slumber.
At least it was over !

The outboard cables connected, the gear from the car collected (almost poetry there!), I was ready to go.
I set up the netbook, and plugged in the GPS mouse. I wanted to get a track of the channel on the way out. By the time I'd set it up the "Low Battery" signal was flashing at me, 10 minutes power remaining. So that got put away...... New battery on the shopping list.

I'd seen Commodore Billy getting the inflatable out and had a quick word, he was going to be putting some channel markers out. With a bit of luck I'd be able to find my way back in...

With the mooring lines let go, the boat turned around easily in the channel with a gentle push (unlike the last epic adventure!), but as I put the engine in gear it gave a "Swoosh" and a cloud of steam surrounded it! It cleared as quickly as it appeared, and after checking the tell-tale was OK all seemed well and I was off. Probably a bit of crap in the system causing a temporary blockage, I nervously checked the stream of water coming out of the engine every few seconds.
The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze from the N/W and I pulled the sail up for the first time this year. Due to an unforseen meeting with the beach last year, I didn't dare try to sail out and the engine was left running until I was well out over the bar...
A quick word with Billy, still busy with an inflatable full of marker buoys, and I realised I'd have to make up my mind which direction to head in.

Directly to the north of the Saltfleet channel is Donna Nook bombing range, this is a good place not to be. The RAF and the USA forces use real bombs and bullets there. I decided to skirt the range, hoping for some close-up (but not too close) action. The VHF broke into life a little later and the range was declared "Open" at around 9.30am.
I carried on, mercifully without any need for the engine, towards the far corner of the range. The wind had picked up enough for me to reef the sail a little, just enough to stop the gusts from causing my chart to slide off the cockpit seat...
I reached No4, the buoy marking the corner of the range, but hadn't seen any military hardware, the only pic I got was this one!

From here I headed a little further south and away from land, I thought I'd pay a visit to another Buoy - "Protector" which marks the Protector overfalls, something like 7 miles offshore and less than 3 metres deep at low water.
It was a leg of a little over 4 miles, and during the hour I'd expected to take, the wind dropped, then dropped some more. By the time I'd reached the buoy it was down to a gentle breeze, it had taken almost 2 hours, partly because the tide was starting to ebb northwards.
As it was the second highlight of the trip, I took another pic....

From  here I set course back towards the coast, now barely visible. I set a waypoint on the fixed GPS to take me to Theddlethorpe, south of Saltfleet, and set course.
The wind had dropped even more now, with barely enough to sail. The sloppy sea was rolling the boat as it was coming beam-on, and the sail swung about and the boom regularly hit the mast harder than I liked. I dug out a spare line and rigged a preventer which ran from the end of the boom, forward around the pulpit stanchion, then back to the cockpit. It did the job and held the sail square to the line of the boat, meaning I didn't have to keep ducking to save myself from strangulation from the sheet as it kept crossing the cockpit!

As I gently eased towards the coast I noticed that the compass heading and the GPS track didn't quite agree, they differed by around 90 degrees! I was making about 1 knot forwards, but the tide was taking me sideways at a faster rate than that. It soon became clear that I'd be visiting Theddlethorpe another day.
After a couple of hours, trying to sail as far south as possible, I was heading for the bombing range to the north of Saltfleet! As I'd heard them close the range earlier on the VHF I wasn't too worried. However far north I ended up, I'd be pushed back south once the tide turned - all I had to do was to keep heading for the beach.
As I entered the bombing range there was a splash behind the boat, not a bomb, but probably a seal I thought. A little later I saw a small black shape break the surface for a second, but not quite seal-like. As I watched it did it again, and this time I could see a fin on it's back - it was a Porpoise! Half an hour later I had the same sight again, this time in front of the boat, could have been the same one, could have been another, but great to see either way.
After getting as close to the beach as I felt comfortable with, I tacked and headed back out to sea. The wind had picked up bit by now, and the preventer had been removed.
I could make out the wreck which marked the entrance to the Saltfleet channel, and with the binoculars could pick out a couple of "Billy's buoys".
I'd planned to head back in around 7pm, it was still only 5.30 as I reached the channel entrance after tacking again. As the conditions were fairly benign, I decided to "feel" my way in, after all, I was only going to find out the limits of the channel by pushing them!
As I neared the wreck I felt the "bump, bump, bump" then came to a halt....
I dropped the anchor to hold my position until the rising tide did it's work, and dropped the sail. Within a few minutes  the bumping had stopped. A few minutes later I started the engine and pulled the anchor up.
I headed back out a little in order to line up properly with the channel markers before gently edging in past the wreck, not getting much further before the "bump, bump, bump, stop"!
I spent the next hour "bumping and stopping" my way up the channel, taking the chance to do a bit of cleaning and tidying around the boat.
Eventually the bumping stopped altogether and I started the engine, gently cruising up the channel to the moorings, tying up with an unusual lack of drama at around 7pm - the time I'd planned in the first place!
At least I now know the height of tide I need to get into the river....
    

After all of that mooring building......

I'm moving the boat!

After doing just less than bugger all sailing last year, I've had to make a change. We all know the problems, getting the right weather with the right tide, hoping that coincides with free time. On top of that my body is slowly falling to bits, which limits things further.

The mooring I'm on dries out every day, and gets wet most days....

On neap tides I can't get off the mud.

Long story short, I hardly got the boat out on the water last year at all.

Not a great deal I can do about my health, and the weather and tides do as they will, the only thing I could change was either to dig a hole for the boat to sit in, or to move onto a better mooring.

I couldn't find any navvies to do the digging, so I moved!

Saltfleet boat club (I'm still not in a "Yacht" club ;-) ) is very small, but very hardworking. Towards the end of last year, as well as building a clubhouse, they hired a digger to dredge a stretch of riverbank, this done they built some new moorings. I was offered one and didn't hesitate to accept. Not only will I be able to sail on every tide, it's just 50 yards from the clubhouse where I can put my feet up and make a cuppa when the weather is iffy.

So plans were in place, the move was on.

Of course, I still had to pick a big enough tide to get off the old mooring, but health and weather were not quite so important for a 200 yard move up the river, or so I thought...

Arriving at the boat on the appointed day, I busied myself getting things ready while I waited for the tide. I'd have the sail ready as the wind was favourable, although very light. I'd also have the big oar, with the "Yuloh" attachment I've made. This was more down to wanting to try it out for the first time than actually expecting to need it. I've been wrong before though.

Eventually there was enough water to try the engine. It hadn't run since October, so I was amazed when it fired up first pull!

I was less amazed when there was no water coming from the tell-tale. Bugger!

Without the time to sort out whatever was bunging up the waterways, I would be engineless.

No problem, thought I, the wind was still just enough to do the job, and I still had the Yuloh to try out.

As high water came I cast off the bow mooring rope and pushed the nose of the boat out into the river so I could turn it around. That was the plan anyway, unfortunately the tide still wasn't high enough and the keels were still sat in their holes in the mud!

A bit more waiting, a bit more levering with the big oar over the side into the mud, and she started to swing out.

This was when I discovered another idiosyncrasy of Saltfleet Haven. Despite it still being an hour before high water, the river seemed to be going the wrong way! It was flowing out to sea and taking my bows with it.

I've puzzled over this since, and the only thing I can put it down to is a sort of "rebound" from the end of the river. 50 yards upriver from the new mooring is the sluice. The other side of this is Lincolnshire's famous "below sea level" farmland, at low tide water is allowed to flow out to sea in order to keep the land drained. When there's a lot of rain it has to be pumped out....

Now, to the incoming tide, this sluice is simply a concrete wall - the end of the river - and there's not much else it can do (I'm assuming here) other than head back down the river on top of itself.

I might be wrong, and I'd be happy for a proper explanation if you have one, but for now it'll do.

What I had was a rising tide, which I wanted, but the river flowing the wrong way.

Back to the move....

Once I'd pushed the bow round far enough I'd be able to use the sail, so I got this ready to hoist. Using the oar, I pushed the bow round using the river bed, once I'd got it far enough I dropped the oar on the coachroof and got back to the cockpit to hoist the sail.

By the time I got there the current had swung the bow back downriver, double bugger!!!

Back to the bow again then, big oar over the side and start pushing, got the bow well round, and a bit further than last time, before getting back to the cockpit a bit sharpish to pull the sail up.

Treble bugger, not sharpish enough, obviously! The bow was already facing the opposite bank as I started to pull the halyard......

Right, this time I'd hoist the sail, push the bow round, then nip back to the cockpit and cast off the stern rope. Easy.

No.

All went to plan until I got to the cockpit to find the wind had disappeared while I wasn't looking. The bow swung back.....

At least there was nobody watching!

I sat in the cockpit, sweating, shaking a little from the exertion, and made another plan....

Push the bow round, get back to the cockpit, then start the bloody engine! Cooling water or no cooling water, I'd only need it for a few seconds.

It worked. I was moving.

Stopped the engine as soon as I'd gathered enough speed to send me upriver. The sail was still up as I was too knackered to deal with it, so I pushed the boom out hoping there might be enough wind to keep me moving. I was wrong. Not unusual that.

I was drifting towards the boats moored on the bank and, being such a small river, they weren't far away to start with.

This gave me the chance to drop the yuloh over the stern and glide gracefully up the river under my own power. Guess what? Wrong again.

The yuloh consisted of a 9ft oar, with a 3ft extension joined by an offset bracket, it turned out that the bracket wasn't quite up to the job and once there was enough pressure on it, the oar could turn inside it. Quadruple bugger!

So I started the engine again. A few seconds and then off again.

This got me another 50 yards or so, clear of the boats and to where the high sea defence banks were lower. There was a bit of wind, I was sailing!

OK, I was sailing so slowly it was difficult to tell, but I could steer, so that would do for me and I relaxed for 10 minutes.

As I neared the new mooring my "crew" was ready. Ali had been waiting with a rope to throw to me, in case I needed a pull in to the bank. About 20 yards before the mooring (and about 18 yards too early) I dropped the sail. The boat stopped. How many "buggers"? I've lost count...

I made the last 18 yards kneeling on the bow using the big oar (downgraded from Yuloh again) to hear Ali singing "Just one Cornetto"!!!!

I got the nose in and tied up the bow mooring rope, went back to the cockpit and found out that the boat wasn't going to fit between the mooring "arms"! Most of the boats at Saltfleet are smaller than mine, and I've only got a little one.....

With the mooring lines lengthened, the boat sat outside the mooring arms. Job done.

Well, almost.

The engine had to come off and go home with me. It's heavy, I was already knackered.

Anyway, I disconnected the control cables, wrestled it into submission in the cockpit and made a plan to lift it off the boat. Then I noticed......

The platform on the mooring was being covered by the still-rising tide. A few more buggers!

Already six inches deep, I took my shoes and socks off.... It was bloody cold!

The engine finally wrestled into the back of the car, the boat tied up, I went home.

I need a smaller engine..... and a way to stop the oar twisting in that bracket..... and....

It never ends with a boat does it?

Sailing at last!

Since moving the boat up to Saltfleet, for one reason or another, I've not been able to get out on the water at all. Having a sailing friend over from Sweden for a week gave me the excuse to drop everything and go sailing!

Jens lives in Stockholm and sails a Hurley Alacrity in some very different waters to mine, no tides but lots of islands. He wanted a taste of tidal sailing.

The plan was to have been a trip to Wells-Next-The-Sea and back, unfortunately the weather had other ideas - when the forecast mentions "possible F8" and "very rough" it's time to think again.

Plan "B" was slightly less ambitious, go out as soon as there was enough water, sail around a bit to give Jens an idea of how the junk rig works, then get back in before the water has all gone.

We met at Saltfleet the evening before the planned trip, Jens having been subterfugically visiting York the previous day.

On seeing the angle the boat sat in the mud, the decision was made to sleep on the clubhouse floor!

A meal and a couple of pints later, we decided to change pubs before the excitement of the bingo overcame us!

The following morning was mainly filled with waiting, the tide seemed to be having a lazy day in the sun, with no hint of urgency in it to help us on our way...

Eventually we pushed the boat off the mud into the deep(er) channel and we were off.

Lovely blue sky and a nice breeze, but the previous week's northwesterlies had produced an impressive swell which crashed onto the bar each side of the channel entrance, although passing between the sandbanks was relatively calm.

Seals swimming everywhere were a novelty for Jens, he's heard rumours of them in the Swedish Archipelago, but never seen one in the wild. Donna Nook has them, lots of them!

We spent an hour or so tacking north against a northerly wind, with a 2 knot south-going tide under us - we did make way north, but very slowly!

Jens took the helm for a while, thus becoming a proper North Sea sailor, then it was time to head back in. With the nose pointed at the channel marker buoys we were being pushed so far south that we would probably have ended up on the beach at Mablethorpe! Aiming about 30 degrees north of our destination put us back on course.

We sailed in over the bar, with surfing waves each side of us, then decided to forgo the engine altogether and see if we could sail all the way upriver onto the mooring, during the final part of the creek we were being overtaken by last night's bingo players, but we didn't care.

With the sail almost completely reefed, we edged up to the mooring gently, anyone watching would have thought us well-practised experts. Of course, nobody was watching....

A short trip, but as far as I'm concerned a great success. Perfect weather, great company, and no problems - what more could you ask for?

Maybe a longer trip.... Watch this space, Jens is coming back soon.