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.