And then there were two

The big event for December was the launch of Stephen's lovely SCAMP "Snug" #667. It was a grand sight, to see two SCAMP transoms side by side in the ramp carpark.

Shakedown sails and sea trials are underway.  There is always a bit of debugging and adjusting and learning required after launching a new boat. First launch at the Warmies, with two other TN25 raid boats, Lugger and Pitthirrit. 

It is nice to have another SCAMP to sail with. I am relieved to see Anjevi performs OK by comparison. I was worried that my relatively rough finish might have a negative impact on performance.

Subsequent Snug launches have been from Werribee River, which works better for Stephen and Chris. Some nice sailing along the coast there. Peter came in Pitthirrit and took what I think these might be the first pictures of two SCAMPs sailing on Port Phillip

Some nice rafting up apres sail at a mooring up the river as well. 

Christmas is looming, and Jeppe and family are staying with us so a switch of gear for a while I suspect. And lots of house and garden maintenance to catch up on. But a nice sailing month to round out a good year.

I sailed Anjevi on 35 days since launching in Feb, and sailed well over 250 nautical miles with her, and enjoyed every minute! I am very pleased with that little boat.

Bumping along

The weather here is odd at the moment, super humid, with lots of moisture in the air.   Monday was grey, foggy and wet, with a bit of South South Westerly wind to add a bit of chop to the mix.   Andrew and Mars only had Monday free, so I got down early and rigged up in the rain. I am getting quicker, and the systems are getting smoother.  The new lazy jack cleating arrangement makes life easier.  We got on the water, squeaked past the dredger at the mouth of the channel to the harbour, and were well away by 10.

It was a broad reach most of the way along the coast towards Williamstown.  I was hooting along but decided I better put a reef in.  I did a bit of an average job, as the boat was bouncing round so much, but it was a good move. 

 We were still getting about 5 knots, and I clocked 7.2 knots maximum surfing down the swell off the breakwater.   I was a bit worried about jibing with the swell, so I tacked round onto port tack and we headed into  Williamstown, watching suspiciously for any freighters to come looming out of the fog.

Andrew volunteers on the Castlemaine, and said that we would pretty safe berthing for lunch on the commercial jetty as at most only one ferry would be running on a weekday.  We moored up for a nice lunch and a bit of shore leave for Oz.

After lunch, as we were heading out I noticed the tugs heading out to escort an incoming freighter.  The wind had eased a bit, and to get round the breakwater under sail alone would require tacking back and forwards across the shipping channel, which didn't seem like a great idea with the approaching freighter.    I fired up the Torqeedo and we started plugging straight into the wind.

Once round the corner and heading straight into the swell, it was a fairly bumpy ride.  So as not to hold Andrew up too much, I motored on till we were past the last south cardinal mark after which the angle was ok for sailing.  

I shook out the reef, and we pottered home, mostly between 2 and 3 knots.  Thanks to the rather grim weather forecast there were not too many fishing boats out, so retrieval was no hassle.  Home by about 2.30 pm.

This, btw, was my 31st day on the water with Anjevi since launching in late February, and I have done just shy of 250 NM.  A month of SCAMP sailing, in around 9 months. Definitely more fun than a month of Sundays.

This day, in any of my other boats past and present, I would have been moderately anxious.  In the SCAMP I was pretty relaxed.  It was a good day! It is a great little boat.

Off and on

 If only I could tell the difference between off and on with my 360 camera!

Today was another camera buoy fiasco, but very pleasant not with standing. 

I was a bit anxious about getting out after my last ramp experience but it was windier Today. I suspect wind keeps obnoxious pests - like mosquitoes and dickhead stink boaters - away. 

I got down reasonably early, and was on the water 45 minutes later. Would have been faster but I got the dreaded Error 20 message on my Torqeedo and it took repeated cleaning and spraying with wd40 to get it to go away. But I should have been a bit slower and carefully checked the halyard lazy jacks arrangement... there was a snafu when we raised sail. 

Chris as usual was early, and we were heading out about 9.45.  It was grey and choppy first off, but pretty soon the cloud cleared and we got a sparkling morning with a good breeze eventually, about as good as it gets. 

I tried the 360 camera on the spar buoy again. First try, it ran down the side of the boat and hooked itself under the Torqeedo. I rescued it, and launched again over the transom this time, but managed to switch it off as I put it in the water. 

So all Chris's well judged buoy overboard manoeuvres went unrecorded. We sailed over to Altona Pier then back to the ramp to collect Roman just on midday. He has just bought wood, plans and parts from John, a builder up in Nowra whose build had run into ill health. There but for the grace of God... the possibility that I would not be able to finish my SCAMP really motivated me to get it done as fast as I could. 

Roman is an interesting guy, he has built a big, steel yacht and a dinghy, so I rekon he is a good prospect to finish #653. 

Thanks to the wind, retrieving was no hassle, and the boat slid onto the trailer without protest or getting its bunks and skegs crossed. Not feeling pressured helps a lot I think.

All in all, it was a really nice messing about in boats day, the sort of day I had in mind building the boat.

One still from the video illustrates my next SCAMP project btw.  You can see the cleat on the mast, that is intended to secure the lazy jacks, is right in the way of the main halyard heading down to the block on the cuddy top.   It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in practice it is awkward.  I am going to put a block on the mast partner at the rear of the mast, and lead the lazy jack halyard back to a cam cleat on a raised bit on the cuddy, dead amidships. 

Squeaking in

Forecast light South South Easterlies, and a 0.8m high tide round 11, it seemed like as good a day as any to try getting the SCAMP into Kororoit Creek.   The water was nice and clear so we could see the nice formations of potentially bottom gouging rocks that scatter the sand bars leading in.

The SCAMP with centre board and rudder up draws 180 mm, which was enough to squeak over the top of them, though we did scrape on some sand bar with the skegs at one point.  There are sticks with helpful signs saying "Keep left" scattered seemingly randomly around, but by following the track on the GPS from my last attempt in the Skerry, we got in ok.

Though I did nearly collect the row of submerged tyres that stretch out from the current spit location.  I was talking to Andrew G who came out with me, and stopped following the track and the clearly marked flag on my GPS from the last time I bumped into them.  

But we managed to miss and get into the nice stretch of deep water that stretches about a kilometer up the creek.  It is a really lovely spot, one of the hidden gems of the Bay.  

There were flocks of waders (Godwits maybe?), cormorants popping up next to us, formations of pelicans flying over head, and lots of birdsong from the mangroves on either side.  I really like river sailing - there is something very stately about gliding along in totally flat water, while the landscape slips past on either side. 

The SCAMP was very steerable downwind and on a reach with centreboard up and just a sliver of rudder in the water.  Getting back out into the Bay was not quite so elegant - the centreboard uphaul was under Andrew's legs, and I didn't quite clip it in adequately. It released, we pivoted to starboard, went out of the channel, and I rowed for quite a while not getting very far until I realised what the problem was.  When we got to deeper water, I think I hit one of those rocks with the centreboard too, better have a good look at the cb today. 

Once we were in deeper water, we had a nice sail over to off Altona Pier and back. A great day, except for getting back into Altona Harbour.  A combination of jetski morons and large stink boat morons put a bit of a dampner on the end of the day.  I will have to develop some alternative strategies for boat retrieval in Snapper season ... seems like the mornings are fairly mellow and you can pick your time, but the afternoons, with impatient dickheads wanting to get their boats out, and impatient dickheads wanting to get their boats in, is a fraught time. 

I suspect too that I am primarily a solo and solitary sailor - I really like pottering at my own pace.  Having company on the boat, however congenial, takes energy, and by golly I was completely stuffed last night!

Whatever, it was a good day, and sailing into the creek was something I have wanted to do for a long time. It means that I could overnight up there if I got the tides right. 

Floating selfie stick

 

While I was building I promised Frank from round the corner a sail on the SCAMP. He came round yesterday looking sadly and longingly at the boat - he would really like one - and having a reasonable forecast and a free day,I arranged to meet him down at the ramp at 10 today. It's Snapper season and busy, but it actually wasn't so bad getting out or back in. The wind died right off. I launched the spar buoy with the 360 camera on it, and checked on my phone that it actually was turned on. Unlike the last fiasco where I managed to turn it off as I put it in the water.  There was so little wind i had to row us backto pick the buoy up, which didn't make for particularly inspiring footage. 

It was good to get out, it might have gone some way to ameliorate my Snapper season ramp phobia.

Today was the 27th day I have been on the water in the SCAMP since launching in February, and I have covered well over 200 nautical miles in her. Which is not too bad. I bet lots of boats out there are getting used a whole lot less. 

Evolving

 One discovery from the recent Gippsland lakes trip was how useful Navionics on a tablet can be, especially navigating waters you are not super familiar with. I have an old tablet with a cracked screen so I thought I'd give it a try, and it worked well.  Except in the energetic tacking up Bunga Arm, the tablet, along with everything else not secured firmly, tended to slide from side to side with a hearty crunch each tack. 

I am sure there are sophisticated off the shelf holders but thanks to a few bits of scrap ply - of which I have no shortage - and a few screws and I have a holder that  can be held securely on the hook on the Port side bulkhead #4.  I hope this will work OK for fine weather, and it should be sheltered there from spray and even light drizzle.  If it really starts raining I cut the backing piece to size so it fits between the hatches on Bulkhead #3. 

At the top, the holder hooks onto the bungey that runs across the cuddy, (which is also useful for hanging other things you don’t want wandering around). At the bottom there is a  toggle piece that rotates in the mast box cutout and locks the bottom so it won't want to swing round. 

Note also the net shelf within the hatch itself, which makes much better use of the available storage space towards the top of the enclosed cuddy space.

These additions are yet to be given any sea trials, but I am hopeful they will work. One of the nice things about small boats, the little evolutions and enhancements make the boat more adapted to how you actually use it.

Meanwhile, looks like Snapper season is upon us. The Altona ramp was chockers today, a nice day on a weekend. I will have to track how it goes midweek.

Living the dream

I managed to arrange 4 days away mid October.  Anne very kindly agreed to mind Ozzie and Maggie.  Chris and I arranged to meet at the King Street ramp in Paynesville on the 15th.  It was a bit of a circus preparing to get out the door, but I was on the road by 7 and actually got down to Paynesville fairly easily.

Paynesville is a very boaty place. I think everyone clocks which boat is where and who is doing what. A video of us sailing down McMillans Strait popped up on Facebook that night.  And a chap from a nearby boat yard came over, knew what a SCAMP was, and asked lots of shrewd questions. He kindly offered to keep an eye on our trailers if we parked near his yard... don't know if he did or not, but the trailers were still there when we returned a few days later. 

There was quite a stiff breeze, blowing  into that jetty area  more from the left hand side of the picture. what I should have done was use a stern spring line to move the bow away from the jetty, and get revs at a steady level for heading out before letting the line slip. Instead, I cast off stern, had a forward spring line, which with the wind pushed the nose  sharply to starboard.  The helm was not enough to counteract that, I gave the engine some revs in the hope I would get some steerage way, but we hurtled towards that jetty on the right of the pic.  I hit reverse hard, which stopped us before we hit, but suddenly we were heading sternwards towards the other side of the jetty we had just left.  I hit forward again, and we just squeaked by and out, without actually contacting anything.  Talk about bone head boaters!  I hope no one was videoing that one. Well, I was, but that footage will be kept a well guarded secret. 

But, once out in the strait, with the sail up, life got a whole lot better.  We had a sporty sail over to Duck Arm, and picked up a couple of public moorings tucked away round behind the spit. I was seriously tired by the time we tied up though. Here's Part 1 of my video of the trip that covers  the first day, and includes Peter Medling's footage of us.

Despite being tired, I didn't sleep super well.   There was a fair bit of hooting and shrieking from the school camps on the other side of the bay but eventually I passed out. Next day was glorious, we were up at first light and ghosting out at 0730.   The sail over to the Aurora Channel was memorably pleasant, the motoring up the channel less so.  By the time we got to the top of Bunga Arm, the wind had kicked up a bit, and some energetic tacking was required to get up the Arm to land at a lovely little cove in front of Pelican Camping area.  After some shore leave, and setting up camp on the boats, I had an afternoon nap, which made up for the lack of sleep the night before.  While I was asleep, the weather changed, and a cold front was starting to move over.   It rained overnight, and we packed up and set off in steady rain.  Living the dinghy cruising dream indeed.  It was good fun.  The wind was light but in the right direction for us to sail through all the convolutions of the channel, and we got back to Paynesville easily.  The wind had just about died, but what wind there was was coming directly down the strait,  and it felt like a current was running against us, so after a half hearted attempt to tack back to the ramp, we downed sail, fired up the torqeedos and cruised back to the ramp.  Here's Part 2 which covers the second and third days:

Back at the ramp we were greeted by Scotty Wells, a local who was very interested in building a SCAMP.  He saw us sailing back past Montague Point, figured we were heading back to the ramp, and came over specially to have a look at Anjevi and have a chat.  I was a bit distracted, and had only an old worn out pair of crocs to wear on my feet.  The tread had long since worn off them, and, while trying to balance on the trailer to pull the nose of the boat on, my feet slipped out from beneath me and I went into the water butt first.  No harm done except to my pride.  The chest high waterproof trousers I was wearing kept my butt dry which was a bonus. 

 Chris made a really nice video of the trip as well.

All in all it was a fantastic trip, genuinely living the dream of dinghy cruising.  I hope I can get back down there again soon. 

Seadog of the month

 

The highlight of an otherwise rather dud end to the month has been Ozzie's achievement of the Practical Boat Owner "Seadog of the month" award. Richly deserved, well done Ozzie. Paul Davison, a UK SCAMP builder, kindly sent me the page.

The weather has been mighty unsettled and we have been lucky to get one good sailing day a week, and life has organised itself so that something has come along to stop me sailing on that good day.  

I did get out from Black Rock for a bumpy sail with Gavan as crew and Peter in Pitthirrit for company. Black Rock ramp is exposed to Westerlies and was horribly weedy - I managed to put a dent in the bow of Anjevi, coat the trailer in sticky weed that took hours to wash off, and make a hash of retrieving the boat. I won't be hurrying back to Black Rock. But Peter made a nice video of the sail.

I got out for a solo sail a few days later, to test a new arrangement for the third reef.   The reefing worked fine, but somewhere along the line the boom must have hit the pole I had just replaced that I used to fly my WBA burgee from the rudder. Both pole and burgee vanished somewhere into Altona Bay, another sacrifice to Neptune. Hey ho.  I have been using the down time to do some work on the SCAMP.  I took the rudder out and tried some re-faring after long consultations on fluid dynamics with my brother Mike. Fingers crossed I have fixed the vibration. And I patched up the ding in the bow from the encounter with the concrete pylon at Black Rock jetty, and added a new hatch rear starboard side cockpit seat so I can keep anchor rode there. 

I am laid low at the moment with some truly nasty bug, not Covid if I am doing the test right, but it feels like it. Hopefully I can bounce back, the weather will improve, and I can get some sailing in over October.

Equinoctial gales

The equinoctial gales have been on full blast last couple of weeks. Every day has been blue arrows on the weather app, and we've had gusts up to 120 km per hour here, good for the fence repairers' businesses. The nature strips are full of sawn up blown down fences and tree boughs broken off. Must be tough if you live in trees. We found two baby ring tail possums over the last week, one alive which we took to the vets. The nice receptionist said ours was the fourth for the day. The other ring tail, poor little thing, was dead. Definitely not a good season to be a tree dweller.

We seized the opportunity to get out on the one ok day in between maelsroms. Chris in "Ysolde", Peter in "Pitthirrit", Ian in "Westy" and me in "Anjevi" with Oz. It was a splendid sail over to Point Cook for lunch, complete was a dolphin visit, and a good sail back. The wind eased off but the sun came out as compensation.  Peter made a lovely video of the day. The SCAMP looks good, and indeed it is fun to sail.

I seem to have lost my video making mojo. I tried my spar buoy camera arrangement out, and made everyone sail round it, but when I got home I discovered  I had turned it off just as I was putting it in the water. I have a couple of seconds of me saying "alright" and the buoy going over the side, and that's all. My other video camera, for long shots, had a flat battery. And I left the gopro running and used up its battery taking a very long video of clouds and not much else. I will have to try harder. 

 Ian in "Westy" is an experienced catamaran sailor but hasn't done a lot of dinghy cruising. He relies on outboard engine to get into and out of the safe harbour in his Cal 14. His latest petrol outboard (his third in recent times) refused to start. I persuaded him to sail out under jib alone and promised to give him a tow back in.  Tow back in went OK, but on the basis that no good deed should go unpunished, in the excitement of organising the towline my handy dandy wind indicator jumped overboard and sank. And then I stood on my WBA pennant staff and broke it ... but it was getting on time to replace it as I have been progressively breaking bits off it and it's been getting shorter and shorter. Despite minor casualties, it was a thoroughly enjoyable sail. It looks like the weather might be improving a bit for next week too. 

Wheelie bin rib

 About a week ago, I was shuffling cars and boats, getting organised to get out next morning for a sail, when I managed to crunch my rib cage on the gunnel of the Skerry. An xray says no cracks or broken bones, apparently I have torn the muscle between my ribs. My GP calls this condition wheelie bin rib, quite common as people reach over into their wheelie bins to retrieve something they have dropped in there in error.  

Either as I get older, I  do sillier things, or my frame is less able to withstand the silly things I do, or both. Better try and be more careful from here on in.

It is painful enough to wake me up each time I roll over. Which means I haven't been sleeping so well. The good news is it will get resolve in about 6 weeks.  I cunningly timed this to coincide with what looks like a long spell of windy weather,so I am not missing much. And I think I can sail ok when the next good day comes along. I managed to row Leigh's Mirror ok on Sunday at the WBA sailing day.

Meanwhile, "Sea Pup" has been getting a workout. 

 I am planning Harriet's next boat for when she grows out of "Sea Pup". I like the look of the Angus Rowboats "Bumblebee" https://angusrowboats.com/pages/bumblebee-sailboat.  

Count down on for TN2025 ... I put a few way points in the gps tonight and Peter sent charts with courses marked on them,  both which might be good if things get exciting. Belt and braces. I don't expect we will be ahead of the fleet in the SCAMP though, unlike last time in the Skerry. But we might be so far behind we will have to find our own way. 

Here's a pic taken by Mark or Nick on "Blackboat" in 2023. Their caption:"Derry leading the fleet past The Images". That was a splendid, moderately terrifying sail alright!

To see ourselves as other's see us

 

We have been getting some almost Spring-like days, in between cold fronts that sweep through and take us back to Winter.  The fates aligned so that Chris and Gerard and I had a free day on one of the warm, balmy days, and we seized the opportunity to get out for a sail from Werribee South.  With one thing and another, it had seemed like a long time between sails.

We were on the water by 10.  The alleged Northerly has swung quite East, and was blowing close to down the Channel, so Chris and Gerard used their Torqeedos to get out to clear water.  Being an incorrigible smart arse,  I decided to tack out of the river, which of course had consequences.

Chris as always took some nice footage, here is a very edited view of the day.  Watch closely and see if you can spot what the price of my under sail exit from the river was.

The low water is mighty low on either side of the channel, and I suspect, on one of the tacks, I must have been a bit over ambitious, and caused the rudder quick release to quick release itself.  But somehow, in the excitement, I didn't notice.  Well, I knew something was out of balance, and kept trying to adjust the bleater to move the centre of effort of the sail to correct the weather helm.  Then I suspected I was just over powered, so I put in a reef.  Which is when Mark from the WBA  came up behind me on a stonking great boat and gleefully captured us with the rudder in full bounce. Dammit. At least I was sailing, they were just burning diesel. 

I eventually twigged and fixed it. The helm feels wonderfully better with the rudder down.  

Chris anchored past Wyndham Harbour, off one of the break water walls to the east, which should have been a bit sheltered according to the forecast but wasn't. After a huge amount of stuffing around, getting lines and fenders arranged, I was just about to fang into a much needed lunch, when it became clear we were dragging.  Indeed there was a large ball of weed on the anchor when Chris retrieved it.  The wind was still strong as we disentangled, got sail up and got moving, providing some good free entertainment for a person sitting on the beach.  Once we started heading back to the River the wind eased right off.  There was a rain storm over Geelong, and it felt a bit ominous, but we got back into the river fine, and moored up to one of the visitor moorings to enjoy a late lunch.

It was a good outing, apart from the rudder fiasco. The new Torqeedo mount is ugly as sin but it works fine and feels solid,  so I will just have to avert my eyes from it.  It is all learning and evolving. I got a few ideas for a few more little tweaks that I have been adding over the last few days, namely a more robust and quickly rigged arrangement for the rear mast/sail transport carrier, and some hooks and bungey to hold my oars out of the water when they are in the rowlocks.  Looking forward to testing them out soon.

Back and forth

About two weeks ago there was a hint of spring weather. A rising of the sap, a rush of blood to the head, I thought I had better get stuck into the garden which has been sadly neglected. I mowed the lawn, then without thinking, twisted, tried to pick the lawn mower up to put it away, and did my back in. I seem to do this every couple of years. Oh well. The back seems to get better one day, then it plays up again the next. It has slowed me down a bit. But in between I have managed a few outings.

 I did manage to get out with Andrew for the relaunching of his Red Jacket.

Always interesting trying to work out how to rig a boat.  You can see me, in this photo taken by Hahn, cheerfully getting ready to raise the jib with the spinnaker halyard.  But we eventually sorted out a reasonable set up.  Luckily it was a very light airs day.  We got a visit from a big pod of dolphins, a good omen for the relaunch.

One of my favourite youtube channels is "Simon Bloke in the Woods".   Part of his technique involves putting his camera on a tripod somewhere, walking into or out of  view, repeat ... lots of times.  It is artlessly obvious, but I find it tricks the brain into going along with the illusion.   The trouble with sailing is that the point of view is largely trapped on the boat.  There are options of course, but how nice would it be to be able to put a camera outside the boat, like on a tripod?

While I have been creaking around with my back, I finished off my prototype spar buoy camera float.  It is a length of conduit, with lead sinkers in the bottom, a float in the top third, and a  wood plug with a screw thread for the camera in the top.  The red buoy and bit of rope is to make a good target and something to hook onto with the boat hook.

I tested it first with the old Flip camera, to see that the buoyancy was adequate - I didn't want my expensive 360 camera sinking to the bottom if I could help it.

It floated ok, but the unstabilized footage from the Flip was distinctly sea sick making.  But it showed the spar buoy could support the weight of the camera ok, so I tried again with the 360. The footage looks promising.  

After a few more days, cabin fever was setting in and I persuaded myself my back was feeling better.  What looked like a window of opportunity for a sail came up on Tuesday.  The BOM was forecasting 10-12 knot North Westerlies.  I got caught up with another project Monday (putting in a photo essay on building the SCAMP for Practical Boat Owner as part of my campaign to get Ozzie in there as Sea Dog of the month) so I didn't have time to pack or get ready.  Tuesday morning I was more than usually stupid packing up.  I forgot my sea boots.  I forgot the spar buoy, the purpose of the whole exercise, though as it turned out it was probably too windy to have used it.

The weather man often underestimates North Westerlies, and this day was no exception.  I should have twigged as we blew out of the harbour at about 3 knots under bare poles.  Anyway we got sail up, then quickly put in the first reef, and headed over to Kororoit creek mouth.  It was just past low tide, and an off shore breeze, so I figured if I did run aground  on the sand bars, I would not be there long.  When we got there, there was a woman with two big dogs romping along. It is a bird sanctuary there, definitely not a place for off leash dogs.  Grrrrrrr.  In the interests of not getting my blood pressure up, I gybed around, and tested the ability of the SCAMP to steer with both rudder and centreboard up.  We scooted over the shallows leaving two furrows behind in the sand, and managed to sail broadly where we needed to go.  Clever little boat.

I ran down past the Jaw Bone, thinking of maybe a run along the coast to T21 to visit the seal, but I could feel the wind gusts getting stronger.  At last the voice of common sense got through, and I put in the second reef, and turned for the beat back to Altona.  Along the way, the wind really piped up.  I was thinking of the third reef there for a while, but we were going ok, and I tacked in so I was sailing reasonably close the shore, which gave some shelter.  

When we got to Altona harbour, the wind was really up, and straight down the channel leading in.  I thought the smart thing to do would be to get the Torqeedo fired up. I put the battery on, connected remote throttle, lowered sail, engaged forward ... and my outboard bracket promptly popped out of two of the three the connectors on the transom. I had the engine almost in the water, lots of chop, wind gusting up, and us drifting off for Mount Martha. Hmmmm.  I tried a few times to get the bracket to hold without success, but it was clear it was not fixable under the circumstances. There was no way I could row the SCAMP in with that wind. The only option left, I was going to have to sail in.   I raised sail and let it out and while the SCAMP drifted sideways.  I got the battery and throttle disconnected and the engine out of the water, put an oar in the oarlock, got fenders and lines ready, then tacked my way back.  

Luckily no one else was silly enough to be going out, so there were no stink boats to dodge.  There were some serious gusts coming through, but heading in to the wind, the boat speed is very controllable, and the SCAMP behaved totally reliably. We tacked up to almost touch the inner green buoy on the outer channel, which then gave a line so that we could squeak through past the rock walls on either side of the inner entrance, then a couple of tacks inside the harbour itself so we could come up to the jetty. At Laverton, wind gusts to 27 knots at 1.40, right when I was coming in. I chose the windiest time of the day for my manoeuvrer.

I had a cup of tea and some soup to get some energy for packing up.  I gave Oz some soup in a bowl on the jetty.  As he took the last lick of the bowl, a gust picked it up and it frizzbied off, landing right side up in the water.  Last I saw of it, it was heading off to Sorrento.  No way I was going to chase it. 

 

Someone very wise (I can't remember who ) observed something along the lines that: "The sea will find out what you did wrong" .  I knew that bracket was a bit dodgy, but as I was also using those connectors on the transom for my sail/mast carrying arrangement, I shied away from changing it over.  Well, now I will just have to.  I am grateful that it all worked out ok, I think I got off lightly this time.  

Rules

 One of the rules of my local branch of the Fairweather Sailing Club is to avoid sailing if at all possible when our local weather App, Willyweather, features blue arrows for its wind forecast.   The blue arrow signifies winds 15 knots, which means that gusts will be higher.  It is a good rule, except when every day seems to be all blue arrows.   A good rule.  But only if you follow Dylan Winter's Rule number 1 for Safe,Sane, Solvent  Sailing  "If sailing is possible, sail.  You will always enjoy it more than you thought you would".  Last Thursday was a blue arrowless day, about the only one for ages, so we launched Anjevi.

Forecast was for SW about 10 knots, we got winds gusting round 17 knots most of  the outing, which made for rather bumpy sailing. Oz was a bit cross as he could not snooze.  It was a chilly 11 degrees, and not surpisingly, we were the only boat out. Which was good for sailing out of and back into the harbor, as there were no stink boats to dodge. Dylan Winter is right, I did enjoy it more than I thought I would. I love that SCAMP.

A few days before, I was mulling over Dylan's rule number 8, "Do not own too many boats".  He points out rightly that boats inevitably need maintenance, and the time you spend fixing and maintaining them is time you could be on the water.  I kept reminding myself of this while being consumed with envy at Stephen's remarkable find of a Welsford Long Steps for an almost give away price.   Gerard, Chris and I went over to view the new addition to the fleet, and Gerard, excellent photographer that he is, took a great photo of Chris, me and Stephen inspecting the boat.  Very interesting to see a precursor to the SCAMP design.  Long Steps certainly has some nice features, but on balance, I think the SCAMP suits me better. 

Gerard's photo reminds me of those Pre-Raphaelite paintings, he captured the body language  splendidly, and the picture captures the moment and tells the story.  Stephen's granddaughter thought so too, and has started a terrific drawing based on the picture.  Looking forward to seeing that finished!  I hope to get a signed copy.

And, speaking of granddaughters, our little Harriet is coming along very nicely.  She is a bright little thing, and it is wonderful to watch how quickly she is growing and engaging with the world.

And, speaking of family matters, my brother Brian is heading off on a trip to Ireland shortly, which led me to do some more research on our great grandfather, Alfred Hutson, who was chief of Cork Fire Brigade through the burning of Cork by the British in 1920.  As an Englishman, those must have been very tricky times to navigate.  Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I stumbled over a story about him  that I did not know - https://www.echolive.ie/nostalgia/arid-40236050.html - and a photo of him I had not seen before.  The docos on the burning of Cork are well worth a look. https://youtu.be/4TFGn_KiVUU?si=tFK8v47HbMBYSVPG 

Great grandfather Hutson was by all accounts a remarkable man.  Lovely photo, but it does not compare to the one from our family album, showing the Captain demonstrating his highly developed management skills

Inbetween, I have managed to do my back in twisting awkwardly carrying the mower. That will teach me to try and tidy up the garden.   I am creaking around hoping the back resolves before we get some forecasts not covered in those darned blue arrows.   Otherwise, I will just have to keep doodling around. 

Stick to it

 Winter has definitely set in, and I am definitely slowing down.  Lots of  mornings, the temptation to have another coffee and dawdle round the house is too tempting.  Ozzie has almost given up on hassling me for the after breakfast walk.   But I have managed a few outings notwithstanding.  I got over to Stephen's workshop with Chris and Gerard to help with gluing up his birdsmouth mast.   Stephen is very organized, and it all went very smoothly.

Not that I did not know it before, but it reminded me that I am not a super organized person, and that I made a good call getting an aluminium mast.  

The weather systems have been whizzing through quickly after the long period of settled weather with the blocking high.  Perhaps catching up, making up for lost time. Tuesday was diabolical, Wednesday lovely, Thursday diabolical, Friday lovely.

I seized the opportunity on Wednesday and got Derry out for a row for an hour in the afternoon.  Anne bumped into us as we were wheeling the boat up the walkway to Flemmos beach. 

It is great to have a light super simple boat that you really can get on the water in under 10 minutes, and great to live close enough to the water to be able to do that.  But having more than one boat presents challenges for someone with such poor organizational skills.  Note the gum boots in this boat.  Due to a significant lack of brain power, they were still in this boat when I went to launch the SCAMP on Friday.  A nice cold wade in bare feet will hopefully teach me not to make this mistake again.

After my last SCAMP outing, I determined to come up with a better arrangement for the Torqeedo attachment.  I spent a bit of time trying to come up with a raising lowering arrangement, but saw a stainless adjustable bracket for $75 so I decided to try that out.  The bracket arrived Thursday afternoon, I got it bolted on to the removable bracket, and looked at Willyweather for next possible day to test it out. Much to my surprise, as the wind that evening was howling and rain falling, the forecast for Friday was excellent, so I decided to launch.  Luckily Chris could make it as well at short notice.

We got on the water by 10, despite the usual couple of blokes who used to sail who wanted to chat.  Ozzie put on his usual pantomime of stoic reluctance, but once we got going, with the sun warming him up in the cuddy, he was perfectly happy.

The wind eased right off after about half an hour.  Chris did a grand job rowing - sort of motor sailing - moving Ysolde along at round 2.5 knots.  On the basis that I needed to check the outboard bracket, I used the Torqeedo. 

We got over to the mouth of Skeleton Creek and anchored in about a metre of water for a very pleasant lunch.  It is a nice spot I rekon.

The bracket arrangement looks weird but it works well.  Prop is well out of the water when not in use, the prop is well below surface to avoid cavitation when the bracket is deployed down.  It is relatively easy to switch between up and down.  I can't see it when I am in the boat, and basically, who cares anyway I wonder?  I can take the battery off which reduces the weight on the various connection points.  I hope it holds up ok in more robust conditions.  So with luck another system in place that works. 

The wind picked up a bit and swung more southerly while we were having lunch.  It was a lovely sail back over relatively flat, clear water, in the sunshine, at about 2.5 knots.  Magic.  I sailed back into the harbor.  There was a guy checking his phone standing in the sunshine at the end of the middle jetty.  I was so quiet coming in, I sailed right behind him and he didn't notice. 

Retrieving the boat, I managed to get the trailer close enough to the jetty that I could retrieve without even getting my feet wet.  All in all a really nice day on the water.  

Crisp

The weather man was saying that there was a "blocking high" heading our way.  The wind prediction  promised  reasonable wind on Monday, then lighter for the rest of the week. I figured I could get somewhere Monday, and would be able to get home again eventually.

I packed way too much stuff, a car shuffle while Anne kept an eye on the boat at the harbour, then set off about 10.30.  Anne took some lovely photos of us setting off.

Wind was allegedly Southerly, so I figured once I got round the corner at Point Cook I would have a reasonable line for Werribee South.  The wind was predicted to be 10 knots plus till after midnight, so I wanted a sheltered spot for overnight.

As always, Point Cook looked close but took forever to get past.   I thought I was never going to get past Dumb Jo, and a number of tacks were required. 

Gerard said he was going to launch from Werribee, and there was loose talk off meeting up off Wyndham Harbour round 1400.  I rang Gerard at 1300 to say fat chance as I was barely round the point and the wind was fluky and on the nose.  He had fallen for the lure of the nice downwind run, and was off the Seaplane jetty near the RAAF base.  It was a hard slog but I caught up with him (ok, I admit, I used a bit of Torqeedo to bridge the gap) and we met up round 1400, with about 5 nautical miles to go back to Werribee.  

The wind picked up round here, and swung SW, so it was a beat into an increasingly lumpy sea.  I could just about get the line to clear Wyndham Harbour, but Gerard's Shimmy doesn't point so well, so we spent a fair time as he tacked his way along the coast.  It was good sailing though, the SCAMP loves those sort of conditions.

It was getting towards sunset when Gerard fired up his Torqeedo and we could make the run into Werribee River.  I tied up at the ramp, so Oz could have some shore leave and dinner, and so I could give Gerard a hand retrieving.   It was getting distinctly dark when I cast off and headed over to pick up one of the visitor moorings ... which led to some excitement.  In the gathering gloom I hooked the slimy rope attached to the shackle on the top of the buoy, hooked my bow line through it and cleated off to a cleat on the boat.  I was just about to light the stove for a nice cuppa, when a change in the sound of the water made me look up, and I was just running aground.   Luckily the mudbanks are soft there.  I got out oars, pushed off, rowed back to buoy, and cleated another line through the "loop" thinking I must have somehow mucked up  my first attempt .... but in short order I was drifting again - the "loopL must have frayed through. Third time lucky, I tied a line through the shackle, but I forgot to secure the bow line, which had consequences.  I was pretty tired and hungry by this point, and it took a while to get organized.  I had taken too much stuff which I didn't need, which got in the way of me getting the things I did need.   At any given moment, Oz managed to be sitting on top of or in front of  whichever hatch I needed to get access to.  But we got organized, got the tent up, got dinner and numerous cups of tea and settled down for the night.

Despite the chill - it was 1.5 Celsius overnight - and the wind (which stayed brisk till after midnight as forecast and required a couple of reluctant forays out of the nice warm sleeping bags to adjust flapping halyard and creaking boom) we slept well, till Oz woke me at 6 to let me know he had an urgent appointment with a bush onshore.  Amazing how motivating that is to get you going on a cold morning. I dropped tent and rolled up sleeping stuff in record time, started the torqeedo, and got about 50 metres before it stopped.  We rowed in, Oz and bush were united, and while he had breakfast I investigated the engine.  The bow line, that I had not secured properly in the dark and my tiredness the night before, had wrapped round the prop.  Luckily revs were low, and the Torqeedo cuts out at first sign of resistance, so it was easy to unwrap and the prop shear pin was ok.  

I was expecting almost zero wind, but there was a nice breeze so we headed off round 0700 down the channel, and soon we were running nicely along the coast at about 3 knots.   I got out the gas stove and Bialetti, and we had coffee and porridge ticking off the miles back to Point Cook.  Very pleasant.

The curse of Dumb Jo struck again though, and about a mile off the point the wind became variable, then died completely/  I stuffed round for an hour, trying to chase the breeze, but eventually abandoned the exercise, and fired up the Torqeedo for a glide across the mirror surface of the water of Altona Bay. 

I got set up with an extra puffer jacket, scarf, multiple layers, and we ticked along at a bit over two knots.  It was so peaceful, I suspect I drifted off a few times ... but we stayed more or less on course and there was no one else out there that morning to run into.   

Back to the ramp a bit after 12.  My phone was flat, so I left the boat tied up at the end of the jetty and Oz and I walked home, got the car, came back and retrieved.  A nice chap, Norm, came over to talk SCAMP.  He knew what it was, and he seriously wanted one.  I think Anjevi is a good advertisement.

 It was good little trip, about 28 nautical miles.  The cold was not really an issue, and it was OK with Oz.  As always, there are some lessons.  I need to get a better arrangement for the torqeedo.  I need to be a lot more selective on what I take.  I still got pretty tired, and I need to come up with some strategies that conserve energy.  But all in all it was excellent fun, I am looking forward to the next trip.

Ps ... just reading Charles Stocks "55 years in Shoalwaters". He has a delightful chapter entitled "Learning to Cruise" , and another "Learning the Thames Estuary",  which recount his early voyages. He finds a pipe cot frame, makes a bed, and works out how to efficiently stow his boom tent. He observes "Life began to get organised which is the secret of all small boat cruising." I can relate.