Golden Oldies

[hlb]

Ok, so the exploding bog is gone forever. But there have been loads of special stories over the years. Who can trace some of them??

<hr width=100% size=1> Flags Solly MFBR</font color=red>
Haydn

 

[BrendanS]

The story so far. Some one had got water down the outdrive leg and was looking for help. A few replied thenI replied with something that wot I'd written earlier. Forbsy wanted more!!

Now children if your all sitting comfortable, then I’ll begin.
We kept our last boat. A Princess 33. In Pwllheli in North Wales.
Now Wales is great apart from the Welsh but theres no where to go to except Portmadock which is only about seven miles round the corner. So for any visits for more than a couple of days. Ireland is the next easiest option.

Now every year we plan (Well I do.) an extended world cruise, which lasts about three or four weeks.
This one was planned for a far away place called Scotland, but taking the scenic route via Ireland.

So bright and early, about eleven o’clock one summers morning. Of’s we sets for Wicklow, it’s about 65 miles from Pwlleli and the course takes you through the Bardsey sound. Bardsey is a small Island about a mile off the coast and the sea between has a fearsome reputation. But anyway we sploshes through that and on to Wicklow, a place we’ve been to many times before so nowt more to be said about that! Next stop was either Dun Laoghaire or Howth, cant remember now but that’s Dublin for Colin and other thickies.
The next stop was Carlingford Lock. It was here that the weather turned distinctly lumpy, so we’re
hold up for three day in a not to pleasant spot. Now on the fourth day, her indoors who hates sea unless its been plastered down dead flat. Announces that its time to go. Well the weather didn’t look any better at all in my eyes, But on the other hand, if wife says its ok, then it must be!

So offs we churns to Strangford. Now I’d put my Princess 35 into any sort of sea and with maybe a bit of reduction on the throttles or even wide open if sea is behind, but I think that with the earlier 33.
Princess were still juggling the figures and hadn’t quite got there yet.

Now the book says. Don’t attempt to go into Strangford unless tide coming in. Cos first it goes out at seven Knots and then it sort of piles up in a big heap at the river entrance. Anyway we must have arrived five minutes too soon cos it was all ten foot lumps every where.

Anyway we makes it to the entrance to the lock and the weather improved and then the lovely people in Strangford finds us a buoy to park up to. Then its off to the Lobster Pot for Lobster thermidore. Which was fantastic. Then the pub across the road, just to round the day off.

So its back to the boat in the trusty dinghy and slightly pissed about midnight, and off to sleep.

I was woken up about an hour latter by the engine ignition buzzers, which for some reason had decided to go off.

Anyway in my drunken, tired state, I thought I’d just shut the buggers up by turning off the master switch and deal with the problem in the morning.

All I had on was a tee shirt and nothing else, but what the hell!

Now the switches are located by the engines out the back door and its pitch black.
So I lifts the engine cover and feels down. I’ve only got to about half way down the engines when my hand goes all wet!

It was about this time when I wakes up and becomes cold sober. And a bit deathly white as well!

So I’ yelling at th-wife to get up and shouting down the radio at the same time.
No answer from radio but th-wifes come to a bit. Chucks wife in dinghy and tells her to go and find help.
Then has a brain wave. Switch bilge pump on. Ah but that’s no good cos some pilock has put it on back to front and its blowing instead of sucking.

End of part one.
So next morning Dermot arrives and then along comes his side kick Chris.
Now Chris had an old or very old MG. You could hear it coming from the other side of the lock, he was meaning to buy a silencer for it and some new tyres, but not a tax disc cos there English things
And Northern Islanders don’t believe in paying England Government nowt.

problem with sinking is soon discovered as a hole in the back end where the prop shaft goes through transom and into outdrive. It’s worn through the bearing and also bell housing. But the tides coming back in fast now, so next brain wave is one of those cans of foam builders use these days.
Ah but the shops at other side of lock. It’s then discovered that Dermots Business is running the Strangford ferries For the MOT. So its on to radio to captain of ferry, to pick up a can of foam and nip back sharpish.

Foam aimed at hole minutes before tide comes in and crane ordered for lift onto Quay.

So the boats afloat again and crane arrives. It’s the oldest thing you’ve ever seen, bloke hands down some worn out three ton straps and boat gets lifted onto quay.

Nice guy lends a geny. So its set up home on the harbour wall, which sort of doubles as village green and prom.
Loads of people ask if we want showers or to stay at there house.

So engines out in no time, new bell housing and other expensive bits thrown in and in a couple of days its another crane and back in the water, Mainly achieved by wife standing at bus stop and waiting for bus to deliver parts. Cos that’s how they do it.

So it’s off now for water born road test. So verruming out of harbour all very impressed and Dermot brought all the family for the ride.

Only got 100 or 200 yds. When the noises changed and the other drive stopped.
So its back to the Quay and another crane.


By now me Dermot and Chris, have got quite skilled at this craning and engine in and out lark.
The general plan is. Chris does all the donkey work whilst me and Dermot officiate and make wise sounding noises.

Strange really cos Chris spoke with a very upper class English accent.

By this time, I’ve taken up residence in Dermots office ordering cranes and engine bits.
Dermots garage is full of treasure for propping boats up and winches and pumps and scaffolding poles.
All the village now best friends and become local celebrities in the pub.

So engine and drive are out and then in again with again much more parts and money.

And another crane. Then the test.

Well I think we got a bit further this time but not very much. There’s an engine overheating but only when planning!

Also all the sea water down the hold and engine room is now starting to show effects.
Even though we’d done everything to clean and power wash the lot.

But the starters packed in, the alternators, and I cant remember what else.
But there was a nice little repair man down the road, so he’s mending as fast as there breaking.

Well every thing to do with water is pulled to bits and four days later still no joy. We’ve even had boat on the beach twice, to see if trouble was in or around the drive leg.

Anyway it ‘s got desperate now so again Chris is summoned and told he must go diving under the boat in the freezing water.

No problem. And there it is a little rubber pipe with a hole in it!
So new rubber pipe Chris mending under water, freezing cold.

We’ve now Been in Strangford three and a half weeks. I’m happy to take up residence there but wife’s thinking she’s never going to get home. I don’t think the oily mess helped a lot.

Now firm friends with Dermot and wife.
We are telling each others life stories.

Dermot had a Big old motor boat in Belfast, for doing trips and corporate entertaining. Four engines in it!
Also the tale of Sailing off to the Azores in, well his other boat which was a big saily thing fitted with everything. That was cos he’d sort of fell out with the tax man so had to go away for six years!

Guess yuv noticed, the humour’s slipping a bit now, and only use one finger, Long Johns cheating like buggery and using two.

Anyway as you’ve guessed we are all getting a bit pissed of by now so tomorrow were going regardless.

Must say though that Strangford lock is one of the most beautiful and friendly places I’ve ever been. Even the police are friendly and there carrying machine guns!
And believe it or not the grass is greener in Ireland, cant explain it, but its true.

So where were we. Yes Ok we’re going!

So ready for off but one engine wont start. Bugger it it’s still going, so jump lead out and that sorts it.

Ahh. Yer not getting off that easily. I’ve not done yet. Yer goin to suffer!

Down the lock and out to sea. Donk the GPS goes, don’t care we’re still going.
Some where anyway!!

We’ve decided that IOM is the best spot cos not to far and what else can go wrong.

Now have you ever tried to steer a 33 off a compass? With waves throwing the boat about and compass going round and round. Its impossible to know what going in a straight is.
So about half way we stops to ask a fisher man. Don’t know what the hell there doing. But radio’d him, blew horn and buzzed all round him three times. Till he took any notice.

Its over there he said, and so many degs thingies.

So Gets IOM.

Next stops Holly Head. So I figure that if I keep the radar on longish range. Either Wales or IOM will always be in view. Well it was’nt.
So Try’s to raise coast guard for bit of help but no answer.

Anyway Wales eventually comes up on radar but never been to Holly Head before so I’m a bit confused. But now able to speak to coast guard. Hope I’m never in real trouble!

Where are you he says?
I’ve got a light flashing on a rock at so many seconds. No its not he says it should be so many flashes.

Count one to ten backwards he says, and we’ll get a fix on you between us lot and Liverpool lot.

So I counts one to ten then dose it again. Never did come up with a position.
Anyway theres a bloody big ship coming out of somewhere in front. Now that must be Holly Head.
Then there’s a yacht comes on the radio and says.” I’ll help you in”, “what speed are you doing”.
“Eighteen knots, I reply.” “Well would you slow down and wait then.”

“SLOW DOWN!! Bugger off!”


The End..

<hr width=100% size=1>Me transmitte sursum, caledoni

 

[lyc]

By Coliholic and tcm

OK for those of you who missed it first time round and especially LJS, here's the background story first. August 2000 and we'd had our boat trucked from the River Ouse in Cambridge to the Broads for the summer and I really fancied bringing it back home by sea. I'd done the Yachtmaster theory course the previous winter, but had never been to sea before in anything smaller than a P&O ferry. I posted on this BB a request for someone to show me how to do it and had a few offers, one of which turned out to be from the irrepressible Matts. After a couple of 'phone conversations I decided that maybe he did have half an idea as to what he was talking about and I'd let him come along as safety skipper and we arranged to meet up at Gt Yarmouth to do the 98 mile trip back to Kings Lynn.


The following is matts report of the trip, written of course in his inimitable style, which I managed to find hidden away on the C: drive under some obscure title..


Showing him the way to go home, and a weird engine problem. Posted by matt s on Monday, 25 September 2000, at 11:00 p.m.

Some of you may have seen the "show me the way to go home" posting a month or so ago. I volunteered to go along, and so after much faxing and calling, we met up last weekend to take colin's boat Aquaholic from Great Yarmouth round to King's Lynn. I arrived late in the afternoon to find Colin tweaking some part of the propellor, and then was shown round the carefully arranged flares, lifejackets, radios, spare radios the full listing of all relevant telphone numbers and radio channels on which to call various relatives, coastguards and harbours, detailed typewritten passage notes and spare copies, and about a hundred quids worth of new charts. The liferaft was in position, and he'd even taken me seriously on the Mars Bars. Of course, I nodded wisely at all this in the manner of someone who had carried out the same meticulous preparation ahem, and wondered quite why he needed me (or anyone) along at all. But this was his first time at sea, hence his posting, so one of the items, quite rightly was "someone who's been there before". Yes, we'd be able to see the navigation marks from at least a mile away. No, his riverboating mate who talked of "mooring up" to a named cardinal marker in the wash couldn't realistically have done that without either a massive steel boat, or a wild imagination. Initial checks done, we made the final preparations which were of course to go and find a restaurant and drink loads of wine, then come back and check the charts again, and then drink some more. I had been agitated by the weather, and I wondered if Colin was being a bit too fixed with his plans by not countenancing a reschedule even though the forecast was 4-5 maybe 6, albeit following southeast with following neap tide. I felt that perhaps he had asked for forecast after forecast until he had found one that he liked. As it turned out, he was right and I was being too cautious. Anyway, I said, as we leaned against the wind blowing firmly although not frighteningly over the seawall during an evening look-see at the entrance the night before, the very worst would be right at the start of the trip, so we could bottle out immediately and creep back in. The next morning and colin was ready with the bacon and eggs, and the call to the coatsguard and everything else. I'd brought a handheld chatplotter with a suitable route, staying a bit nearer inland than colin's longer route around the light blue. Aquaholic is 30 feet long, a Fairline Mirage. It could just about crack 20knots, although it rarely saw more than six or seven before this trip. Colin was cautious about the state of the river, and commented how it looked a bit rough. I knew that a mile further down he'd find the meaning of rough, as he asked for advice on how to negotiate the bungalow-sized waves awaiting him at the entrance. I told him to stay in the middle, keep going at six or seven knots, and er hang on, and that we could see it was much less rough a bit further out. Once out of course, it's rather difficult to get back in. But all seemed ok with a following sea although the engines groaned as each wave came up and took the boat off the plane down to 12 knots, followed by exciting acceleration down the other side at almost 20knots. After a few hours we'd made it past Wells, and the sea had become much calmer as the inland route shielded us from the worst of the south easterly. The sun shone. We whooped as we launched down another wave. Colin became almost perfect at holding the plotted track within 100metres. I commented that really I ought to be paying to come on the trip. Some of colin's mates called him on his mobile to ask how it was going. Apparently they were colleagues from his office who'd had a sweepstake that I wouldn't turn up, or that he'd bottle out, or worse. Then we saw a thick trail behind us of black oil. I alerted Colin to it. He throttled back and as I peered over the back, and although there were no other adverse sights or sounds, he reported a total loss of oil pressure to the starboard engine. I took the wheel as he opened the engine hatches to have a look. He turned the strbrd engine off as I held a course in ten metres of water, not far from sandbanks. The oil level was fine. He tried to restart, but it failed to respond. Indeed, the staboard panel failed even to show any electrical life whatsoevrer at any key position. We were now in a fairly serious position with only one engine, no bolt-hole until the lock forty miles away at Denver sluice, currently showing on the gps with an ETA of 12 hours away. Colin was understandably distraught, and sat down in the cockpit aghast at the situation. Perhaps we should call the coastguard he asked? I said that really we can't call the coastguard to tell them we've only got one engine, or that volvos are no good, or that the boat is a bit slow, because they'll tell us to get stuffed or words to that effect. Going back to Wells wasn't really an option: against the tide and sea we'd only make three knots and have a rotten time of it. The options were to drop anchor and try to fix it, but lose the option to continue because of the lock time. Or try to go back. Or continue on one engine and try to fix at the same time. I turned up the port engine, took back the flaps, asked colin to run off the water tank to save weight , and see what we could get out of the one engine. Eight knots. We'd go. Now running more carefuly, we could risk sneaking round closer to the sandbanks to save time. With the reasonable speed, and a tighter course it would add about three hours to our ETA, but we'd make the lock. Let's go. We rumbled along in silence. Colin made numerous inspections of electrical bits and pieces, but couldn't get any sign of life from the strbrd engine. Perhaps it hadn't siezed at all? The oil behind us that I'd seen could simply have come from the bilges pumps, maybe? The "total loss" of oil pressure could have been colin mistakenly unfamiliar with the high/low oil pressure at high/low revs. Anyway, we were back on target to make the lock ,albeit much much later than we had planned. The mood lightened. I said that I suspected that this was all a surprise "test" set up by Colin, and challenged him that he was in fact a very experienced and highly qualified boat instructor, who had rigged up the entire scenario, and as soon as we got through the lock he was going to turn the engine back on and give me a badge for not going to pieces in the middle of an engine failure. Colin unfortunately said that this was not the case. A 45-minute rainstorm hit us an hour or so later, and colin commented that without the other engine we'd be in deep shit, we had a laugh as I pointed out that now approaching the river we were only in about 5 metres of shit, which wasn't very deep at all. Colin got back to top form as we went up the Great Ouse, and he was now able to do some "Rivery" things like make a cup of tea and have biscuits. I suggested that he should set up a table and have a nice tablecloth with a proper flower arrangement if he was going to get truly Rivery. We finally made it made it through the lock and out of tidal water ten hours after setting out from Great Yarmouth. As colin had correctly predicted, the weird engine problem wasn't confined to one engine: once moored up, he turned off the port engine, and it too completely failed to restart. Net result is that colin's got more sea experience than he bargained for and saved a lot of fuel, albeit got some odd electric problem which allowed his engines to start and run, but not restart if switched off, and I'm cured of any creeping desire to bring my own boat back from the med. He said the main switches are both on, as thyey were at Great Yarmouth. Good stuff eh? And any ideas? Perhaps Colin is indeed the very serious boaty instructor and I simply failed to get a badge because I should have know to er whatever.

So that's my (and matts) Christmas offering of great adventures, more contributions needed from you all.





<hr width=100% size=1><A target="_blank" HREF=http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BroadsandEastcoastBoating/>Broads & East Coast Boating</A>

 

[jhr]

I'm very fond of this one, from tcm. Always a tendency to mingle with the rich and famous - though of course it was before the days of hob-nobbing with Joe Jnr:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just got back from a 2-week tramp from antibes to Palma majorca, via corsica, and then 240 miles crossing to menorca, and following day to palma on newish leopard sport 23. Finally in palma, club de mar, few days spare getting boat fixed, ready to leave it there for 3 weeks on charter, and then we bring it back to france via barcelona late august.

Swmbo bombed off shopping on a Goped (see goped.com) and reports that a v friendly chap remarked at the gopeds, almsot as if he already knew us. She pointed him out. I didn't know him ( i think) but he was there at the bar so I said hi. No, we don't know each other, but I'm matt, and he's bruce, and he bort us a drink. And yak yak with rest of the load of people, he seems to know loads of people, almost everyone who turns up, v popoular chap it seems.

One of them has a Princess 48 but it has problems so they are just staying in it. Another has a sailing bioat, as does bruce, who westely sealord is in Conway. And we have a leopard 23. "Nice boat" says bruce, but not sure he knows about it, but no matter, we chat on with massive group bout maybe bringing down a 40' sailyboat to the med or maybe not. And those duff elbows on the princess.

So we all ordered some more drinks, and I proterst that I shd pay for this round for chrissakes. But he wdn't have it, so seeing as how he is boatless and I have to go now, I sed praps he cd come round the boat sometime? Okay, maybe. There's plenty of room, no prob, I said, but he 's doubtful. It's 75 feet long, so he says cripes blimming heck ey oop you sed 23? It's 23 metres. Bloomin nora says Bruce.

Next day he came round quite late, and blimminek etc. etc at the boat. My son looks at Bruce and says he's seen this guy on the telly. Humm, don't think so, i think he's in transport, cos the others all are. But anyway, we get along fine with Bruce, so praps he wd like to come along tomorro for a little spin? Can his little gang come along too, he asks? Of course.

The following day he turns up with his wife and the others, who know a bit about boats. So I say look Bruce, my lad says you are on telly? That's right says bruce. What a load of crap, I thought you were a hydraulics experts on trucks! No, says smiley Bruce, I play Les Battersby on Coronation Street. And his wife confirms the same, as do all the others. Hmm. Who the eff is Les Battersby?

The wind is from the west so we go a few miles up the coast and hide in a bay, which turns out to be Palma Nova, next door to (ugh) Magaluf. But the bays are nice. We have lunch on board, and bruce and gang all very jaw-droppy bout the boat. So he must be massively lying bout being on the telly as we all know they are rich as hell. But he seems not quite as tecky as I first thought. So maybe he is v specialist bout the hydraulics and just knows about Leyland Daf, and nothing else maybe?

After lunch we go ashore in the dinghy to find a bar. I admit that this was my suggestion, cos after all if he is famious then loads of people would know him, right? Hah. We walked along the front, past loads of "british" bars. It's a bit naff. Well, it's very naff indeed. Loads of holidaymakers leap out the bars and mob Bruce. Others say "eyup Les!". My wife apologises for suggesting coming ashore, but he seems fine about it. I half-heartledly imagine that he must be a really very fabulous truck fitter in the north west, praps like Red Adair?

Soon, my kids jeered at me for still sticking to the hydrualics fitter theory. Bruce signs loads of autographs and has his picture taken. Even the spanish waiter gets all 10 of us a nice table, and says what a fan he is in broken english. We order drinks, and more drinks, and lot of people come up and get a pic with bruce, and some even buy us all some more drinks. His friends said it's actualy quite fun meeting out-of touch types like me who haven't the faintest clue about les battersby, and we all had a fab day, eventually playing rackety disco music on the foredeck on the way back to Palma. The kids kept me away from the cd player and played all new stuff: Elvis Presley and Kylie Minogue. Who?


<hr width=100% size=1>Je suis Marxiste - tendance Groucho

 

[andy_wilson]

To think I was almost with Coliholic on that trip.

Can't remember if I posted about the time he took a midnight dip in Lymington Yacht Haven after an evening full of the usual refreshments.

Is Colin stlll around?

<hr width=100% size=1>

 

[hlb]

On UK Waterways.com, there is a page for boaters to write about their journeys on the water. The majority of them being narrowboat voyages.

Is there a similar site for non-narrowboat owners?


But Norman, theres loads of tales of harrowing voyages on here, as you well know. Heres one we did earlier.

Just then, as Mole sat down to admire his handiwork, a large motorboat rumbled by, close to the edge of the bank, smashing everything, and a big bloke leaned over and harpooned him with a spear gun.

The end



Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 07:39:50 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply




Mole looked up with a sly grin. The harpoon had parted his hair and stuck in the lock gate behind him. The rope snaking and rapping round the big blokes leg. This would have been fine had he not just hailed tut-th-wife. " Ey luve, back thi sen up a tuch". Now th-wife who was a hod carrier in the treacle mine at Sabden, was having the weekend off.
She glared back at her husband with a toothy smile. ( Except her teeth had fallen out when he smacked her, and were now lying all over the floor. )
She put one big mit on tut throttles. and then with a mighty roar. Th engines spluttered and farted and th-prop shafts start wizzing round backerds. Causing the boat to go awfull slow. Then the boat starts goin backerds and its picking up quite of a lick and the ropes goin tighter and tighter, round th-big blokes knobley knee's.--------Please carry on?


Haydn

Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 09:39:35 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply




The big bloke with knobbly knees began flailing around try to catch hold of something. But unfortunately the strongest of the deck fittings (the flower pot nailed to the table) was out of reach. Just atthat moment the kettle started boling, so Tut was forced to go downstairs to make a pot of tea.

The situation was getting desperate. It seemed that the teabags were in the wrong cupboard. Or had they run out of teabags? Surely not. Tut checked all the cupboards, and briefly considered re-using an old teabag, but dismissed the idea from her mind. At last she found the teabags, and with a huge sigh of relief put two of them in the pot having first swilled it round with hot water in regulation fashion.

Back on deck, things were getting worse. The big bloke with knobbly knees and the rope leg wrapped round his leg an into the lock was beginning to realise that he hadn't had a cup of tea for almost a quarter of an hour. Or even a biscuit. At last, Tut brought the freshly-made tea back up on deck. The boat was still trying to move back, but all the time the rop round his leg was get tangled up in things like ropes do, or even one of the knot things that make you wonder why anyone loops ropes up into neat coils. As the lock got closer, Tut turned the radar on: the power drawn from the massive radar immediately drained the entire electrical system, so the engine stalled. Even so, the lock was drawing closer with all the tangling. The lock gates began to close around them. Tut and her husband looked at each other in horror as the realised that they had picked up the wrong cups, as his had only 4 spoonfuls of sugar in and hers had the 6 spoonfuls.



Post Extras:

ccscott49
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 09:57:35 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Post Reply




Think Matts has lost it! anybody for a leopard!



Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:03:26 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply




Now Colin.
The big fat bloke with Knobbly Knees.
Spat the tea out angrily,
he'd got quite a temper on.
The rope that had rapped round his leg, had cut them off. Just above the knee.
So he's groveling around on the floor,
trying to catch th-wife for his tea.
The force ont lock gates were tremendus and so with a great big creek.
The lock gate fell off, in the water.
And the mole had a great big freet!
Well. Then alt water, came gushing, and spilling all over the place.
And th mole were swimin like buggery, just to get outa the place.
Mean while poor Colin -----------------

Haydn

Post Extras:

ccscott49
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:05:02 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply




Poor bloody mole! Moles cant swim!



Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:18:11 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply




Meanwhile poor Colin was trying to pretend to all the people watching the lock that this was all normal. He stemmed the gushing blood from his legs with some nice napkins, and neatly stowed the snapped off pieces of leg in a deck locker, and made an extra note of the list of things in each locker.

His wife was now becoming hysterical. "You've used the Sunday doilies, for crissakes! Today is Saturday! Now what?!!"

Colin's boat was now heading downstream at speed - noticeably moving, perhaps even at a slow walk. With the lock gate attached and at last with the right cup of tea, he could take stock of things. His wife Tut jumped back on board having nipped to the shops to buy some more doilies and get back to the boat as it moved at least thirty yards downriver, attached to the lock gate originally tied on to colin leg, but now firmly attached to the flower pot with a round turn, several half hitches and a purple clothes peg plus a few more knots. The lock gate made an ideal river craft, with a low draft, and very sturdy. Colin called the lock keeper and asked if he might consider a part exchange of his boat for the floating lock gate. The lockkeper laughed, and toldim that the lock gate was quite expensive....



Post Extras:

boatone
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:20:51 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Post Reply




I thought d'oillies wer waterproof wearing apparel from up north....

Actually, is it just me or is thread getting sadder by the post.......

TonyR
boatone@boatsontheweb.com

Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 11:04:45 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply




Mean while the mole is still angry.
Cos its lost its home and its greenhouse.
All gone down river and smashed up, with the terrible flood.
He calls on his mates in the river.
And the frog did all of he could.
So the Pike ( Thats Colins pike from up the thread. Thats now caught up with them) and the toad. (Who had been sat having a beer in the pub all the time.) and the water rat.
All got ganged up all together.
They were a reyt gruesum sight.
And they all paddled off together,
Like Ottila the Hun and his mates.------------------

Haydn

Post Extras:

EdM
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 11:16:52 2001
Re: Oh Ed you are awful - but I like you [re: colin_maslen] Post Reply




Havent got past Hartford this year as my enfield fell off, so I can only fantasize about the mythical relief channel, till next year.



Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 11:35:11 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply




They soon caught up with Colins floating lockgate and lightly-smashed boat combo, and joined the lockkeeper on deck. It was easily time for another cup of tea.

At first mole was angry about his broken conservatory, but Colin suggested that the riverside house first pointed out by NormanWyatt furthe up the thread could be a useful alternative. Mole got angry again, and said that the house that Norman was considering was his own, and it had been on the market for some time. Now, just as Norm had got interested, the boat/lock fiasco had rather taken away some of the appeal viz it being a house by the river, now no house and no river, and all colins fault.

Colin realised he was in a pickle. The lockkeeper and all the animals were somewhat upset at him, although at least he had got clean away with everything as far as looking like a dork in front of bystanders, which of course was the main thing. At leasr the rat seemed happy, gnawing away at one of colin's old bits of leg.

There was only one thing to do. Colin had a word with Tut, who went pale. But there was no other option. She went downstairs again and came back with the Special Shortbread, tears in her eyes. The lockkeper and the animals eyed the tin with their beady eyes. This would be a day that they would all remember for years to come. Tut took out not one but TWO pieces of 15-year olde cambridgeshire genuine muddy-flavoured shortbread for them all to share. None of them had ever seen such extravagence.

The lockkepper became bolder. He offered to perhaps reconsider the idea of Colin upgrading his boat to have the floating lock gate instead. Colin was delighted. No more cramming things into little lockers, much better deck accomodation, and top speed almost the same if he paddled it from the back with a stick from time to time. Although the trade-in price seemed a little steep at the Mirage, £10grand and another piece of shortbread, it would still leave colin with most of a packet of shortbread, plus the other packet of Luxury Balvenie 40%-sawdust shortbread that nobody knew about, not even Tut.

And so it was that colin moved all his gunk out of the mirage on to the much roomier old floating lock gate, helped by Tut, the wife. The animals all helped too, and although they hadn't realised that the boat was only the two-cabin version with the smaller diesels, the pike reported that the antifoul looked ok underneath and only needed a bit of touching up. They stopped at the chandlery for some tape and a tin of International all-in-one two-pack leg-repairing resin adhesive bonding fluid varnish mastic, rinsed the soggy ends of colins legs and put them back on the stumps, and although they got them the wrong way round, colin said it didn't matter and he'd sort it out at the end of the season if necessary.

The animals were quite pleased with the mirage, although the toad felt that the wc was quite badly designed and not really enough leg room. Was this the end of the story? ....






Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 15:05:07 2001
Re: No. Thats Not The End"" [re: matts] Edit Post Reply




And they all lived, happy ever after. Amen

Now thats the end.

Haydn

Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 15:35:57 2001
Re: Cut!!! all rights reserved. [re: hlb] Post Reply




Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is intentional, especially that colin and the mole, tho not his nice wife (colin's wife, not the mole's wife, obviously) . The events in this story are totally true! Mostly.



Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 16:23:46 2001
Re: Hang about a bit Matt.!! [re: matts] Edit Post Reply




I'd been scratchin me ead.
Wondering, How come the wife was called "Tut" Never heard of a name like that before. (Having had to return to extra special queens english, just for the perpose.)
I've had to read the whole bloody thing back three times.
Then I found it!
Tut-th- wife.
Yo gobin!
Yer daft sod!
Thats Lancashire for. To the wife.
Not Tut, the wife!!!
Ya pon-yed
What bloody school did yer go to.

Haydn

Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 16:35:31 2001
Re: oops Creative Row at Tut Film Studio [re: hlb] Post Reply




Well you said Tut th'wife so I just thought that's her name! Bradford, Yorkshire, as it happens. We don't say Tut at all there. In fact, I was 12 before I realised that there were any t's in the language.

Can we just leave at as Tut, sounds quite dangerous wife name? Like Jabba in that other WORLD RECORD GROSSING MOVIE £££ mangusta each HINT HINT??? This is at least as good as that harry potter crap and we get a good laff at colin during the filming for nowt! I mean nothing. Alright we could bung him the old leopard/princess old things once mangustas delivered. I will order a chip fryer in each bedroom of yours and a branch of Macdonalds in mine.





Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 17:21:07 2001
Re: oops Creative Row at Tut Film Studio [re: matts] Edit Post Reply




Ah. I see. A new we'd nicked a few things off of Thi, in't war ot-th Roses. But near guessed that we'd nicked all o yer T's.

So Ok yer can have a few back.

And I hope Colin and Tut have a very fruitfull life, with loads of short people as well!!

Anyway poor Norman only asked if it was navigable.
Dont know what he'll make of this lot??

Haydn

Post Extras:

colin_maslen
(regular)
Mon Dec 3 22:41:58 2001
Some Musing's through the lock [re: hlb] Post Reply




Gently easing the huge boat into the the lock he manoevred her until she gently and softly carressed the locksides as he brought her to a careful stop. Pefectly positioned for Tut to step off. "No we don't do jumping on our boat do we darling", he reminded her. "I'll get the boat in the perfect postion for you, then you can can carefully step off without any danger of falling in". His massive boat, one of the largest on the river was almost 30 feet long. He idly thought the captain of the Titanic couldn't have moored up better, then thought better of it. "That bloody pillock couldn't miss an iceberg at 200 paces" he smiled thoughtfully to himself.

Stepping off the stern he took the stern rope with him and made fast to the perfectly positoned bollard.

"Sorry about that little mix up back there sweetheart, didn't see the mole and had to take avoiding action before hitting him. Hope we haven't upset the flower arrangement" he said.

"We?", shouted Tut, "what's this 'we' business? You were the one driving, wouldn't let me have a go"

He thought he detected a note of slight note of disapproval or even sarcasm in Tut's voice, but no it couldn't be. Then he reflected on the events of the day. "Hmm" he mused, "this is going to take some serious thinking about".

He carefully closed both lock gates and retrieved the lock key from the cockpit and wandered down to the work the paddles at the downstream end. As the water started to empty from the lock he considered things. "Something's bothering Tut" he decided, "she's definitely not right".

As the water continued to drain out of the lock, he idly watched a couple of Crested Grebes scrabbling around in the mud on the river bank. "I wonder what they're thinkng" he mused to himself "and do they ever have bad days too" he pondered.

Just then a movement off to his left made him turn and look closer at the far bank. "What was that? There's something going on over there", he thought quizzically. Before the thought could completely form in his mind he was wakened by Tut.

"Oi shithead" she shouted, "the bloody locks empty now. Are we staying here all night or are you going to get your arse in gear and shift this bloody boat or what?".

"Yes dear" he replied as he started to open the gates and thought to himself, "ah she's alright now, whatever it was that was bothering her is obviously OK now or perhaps I just imagined it after all. She's back to her normal loving old self" Another perfect afternoon lay ahead



Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Tue Dec 4 08:47:39 2001
Re: much better. (nm) [re: colin_maslen] Post Reply




.



Post Extras:

normanwyatt
(regular)
Tue Dec 4 19:55:26 2001
Re: River Wissey [re: colin_maslen] Post Reply




Didn't think my simple request would result in so many replies. Though it did seem to lose the thread after the first few. Plan to have a look at Stoke Ferry in a few weeks.





Post Extras:

matts
(regular)
Tue Dec 4 21:25:17 2001
Re: The Rushes Look Good [re: normanwyatt] Post Reply




Sorry bout that NormanWyatt. Yours was the first post I have seen regarding the rivers of that area, so Haydn (hlb) and I could not resist concocting some half-baked action packed thriller. Well, actually a fully baked and burned thriller. Later, Colin came in and added some boring Last of the Summer Wine type garbage, totally useless for a film, probably wild and mad by rivery standards, which won't even make the final script.

Seriously, I do hope you find a good spot.



Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
Sat Mar 30 01:13:07 2002
Re: River Wissey [re: normanwyatt] Edit Post Reply






Post Extras:

ccscott49
(regular)
20/04/2002 10:57
Re: Voyages [re: hlb] Post Reply




But I don't have a wife!!!! The rest has left me speechless, unbeleivable what crap can be in one mans head!! We really need to rescue poor old Haydn, it's all just got too much for im' What happened to mole anyway?



Post Extras:

chippie
(regular)
20/04/2002 13:53
Re: Voyages [re: hlb] Post Reply




A (medium) rare talent!



Post Extras:

hlb
(regular)
20/04/2002 16:15
Re: Voyages [re: ccscott49] Edit Post Reply




Well as far as I know. Mole is still living on Coiholics boat, with all his friends. Toad, Pike, Rat and Frog. Moored up to what was Norman's house.

No one can force me to come here-----------
----- I'm a Volunteer!!!








<hr width=100% size=1> Flags Solly MFBR</font color=red>
Haydn

 

[longjohnsilver]

All our yesterdays........

Yep, do remember this, and sadly all the other posts on this fred. That must make me a real sad bastard! I must get a life.

<hr width=100% size=1>

 

[Vara]

A joy to read,perhaps thre is a case for a seperate forum.
"Scuttle butt Gold" perhaps.

<hr width=100% size=1>If it can't be fixed with a lump hammer dont fit it!

 

[boatone]

scuttlebut gold be damned.....all the really brill stuff comes out of mobochat.....mobomagic if you like...yes, MOBOMAGIC....deffo has a ring to it !


<hr width=100% size=1><A target="_blank" HREF=http://www.boatsontheweb.com/> Website, Photo Gallery, Chat Room, Burgees</A>

 

[Vara]

Whoops......sorry I didnt realise where I was!
Not the first time in my sailing career./forums/images/icons/smile.gif

<hr width=100% size=1>If it can't be fixed with a lump hammer dont fit it!

 

[powerskipper]

I always liked this one,



Forbsie
(regular)
25/10/2003 04:37
Dear Alcohol:

First and foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. Your many
dimensions are mind boggling. Yes, my friend, you always seem to be there
when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer with the game, and
you're even around on the holidays hidden inside chocolates as you warm us
when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. Yet lately I've
been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have
my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some
unwise consequences, briefed below for your review.

1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I
question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity
takes place after 2am.

2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal and, though cooking is far from
my specialty, why you suggested that I eat a kabab with chili sauce,
coupled with ramen noodles and some stale chips (washed down with chocolate
milk
and topped off with a Mars Bar) is beyond me. I like to eat, but I think you
went too far this time.

3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do
more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by
causing me to fall down. Completely unnecessary!! Similarly, it should
never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Pictures: This can be a blessing in disguise, as it can often clarify
the last point below, but the following costumes are banned from ever being
placed on my head in public again: Indian wigs, sombreros, bows, ties,
boxes, upside-down cups, inflatable balloon animals, traffic cones, or
bras.

5. Beer Goggles: If I think I may know him/her from somewhere, I most
likely do not. Please do not request that I go over and see if in fact, I do
actually know that person. The phrase "Let's Fu*k" is illegal from now on.
While I may be thinking this, please reinstate the brain-to-mouth-block
that would stop this thought from becoming a statement, especially when my
girlfriend/boyfriend is sitting a few feet away.

6. Furthermore, the hangovers have GOT to stop. Now, I know a little
penance for our previous evenings actions may be in order, but the
2pm-hangover
immobility is completely unacceptable. I ask that, if the proper
precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to
going to
bed/passing out facedown on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the
hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily Saturday
or Sunday (or any day for that matter) activities.

Come on now, it's only fair--you do your part, I'll do mine.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now and would like to
ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the reason for great
stories, much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know
what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this
friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address
them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm
(pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions and hopefully we can continue
this fruitful partnership.

Thank you.





<hr width=100% size=1><A target="_blank" HREF=http://powerskipper.mysite.freeserve.com/>http://powerskipper.mysite.freeserve.com/</A>
Julie

 

[hlb]

Stop messing about Colin. And sorry for oldies but Colin asked for it . So here it is. Like I said a bit like a telly oldy.

There it is. Need Browny points for this.
This is years old and from my limited arcive

Matts yarn about his trip with Collin led me to remember a voyage I made about three years ago. It was late in the year and me and th-wife had set off from Plymouth for a three day cruise.We decided to go west cos the wind was from the east and it would'nt be as bumpy. To cut a long story short and try to get to the point of the story. The wind stay'd in the east we kept going west and when we ran out of land ( at Lands End ) did a right to keep on the lea shore and finished up in Stourport. (just short of Birmingham). We decided this would be a good place to leave the boat for the winter, and it now being only about 130 miles from home in Lancashire we could use it all winter. Especialy cos there was a lovely friendly club house at the marina. About this point(and some mounths later) in the proceadings. Th-wife decides to go all menopausal on me, so I spent most of the winter on the boat to keep out of the way of the dragon. I got to know many of the river and banana (narrow boat) boaties quite well. One day early spring I was asked if I would help bring a boat back from the Isle of White for the son of one of the banana boaters.
He. Hear in they all thought i'd made it up but honest gospel trueth

The crew was selected on the basis of, who could skip work for a few day's, with banana boat man as captain cos it was his sons boat and anyway I think he'd once been on a ferry. WE plotted course on my boats sat-nav in Stourport. Tied my dinghy on the roof of an ancient merc. (Cos it made a good roof rack) and at four in the morning, five of us squeezed into it for the trip to the Isle of White. It broke down countless times but finaly we ends up a few miles up rive from Cowes. THE BOAT. 56ft, 54 tons ex admiralty liberty boat,previously owned and lived on by a drug adict. Theres an Aga Cooker chuffing away with no chimney cos drug adict has flogged it, the galley was made out of orange boxes whilst drug adict was having a bad trip! the toilet in the corner of the er---saloon was behind a curtain, held up with a washing line. The wheel house is about three feet square and consists of a wheel, gear leaver and a compass, with one screw holding it down. (so you can turn it any way round you fancy). At this time the captain takes command and slowly takes on the roll of captain Blye. Fuel is discussed and we're going to pick some up down river, before setting off for Salcolme some 80-90- miles away (this is the first time this boat has moved since the navy had it). Captain sets off a bit slowly Cos the back end's still tied up and the pontoon's comming with us. It was at this point that I started to have slight doubts about this trip!! Off we go down river, the fuel station disapearing a stern. Out into the Solent and the big stew pot on the Aga takes a tumble cos nobody on the boat has been on anything rougher than the Leeds to Liverpool canal. I've been demoted to cabin boy cos I made noises about compasses and fuel and lights and things for a fifteen hour night crossing to Salcolmbe. Anyway happily chugging down the Solent at about eight knots it's noticed that the prop shaft is wearing the stern away and water is comming in, so speed is reduced to six knots, which some what improves the situation. Captain decides to head for Poole and I get instant promotion to pilot cos I've been before and anyway I've got the charts. In poole I head for the fuel barge. Cant remember what the tank held, but we put in about twenty gallons more than full!!. So god knows how we'de have got to Salcolmbe!!! Captain takes the helm Again and trys to remove the rails on an eight ton bouy. Fifty six tons meeting eight tons is quite something!! Off to the chip shop in pool for supper. Captain decides we'll set off for poole around mid night. I point out that I've never been out of Poole at night and with all the lights from cars and street lights it's hard to find the way and in any case this boat wont stop in less than two hundred yards. So lets go now whilst we can still see. Needless to say I'm back in cabin boy mode. Off captain goes totaly ignoring the fair way and heads through the middle of the moorings. Somebody rushes to the bow and franticly waves left and right as the moored craft loom into sight from the pitch black night.We did a circular tour of Poole harbour about three times before comming across the Cherbourg ferry, so captain decides to follow it out of the harbour We've got two micky mouse hand held GPS's neither of which we could get a position out of. Captain did'nt believe in all that rubbish anyway and said " You can go anywhere off a compass" The fact that this one spent most of the time rolling about on the floor and the crew put it back on it's stand in various positions, had little significance.

We plotted a course and captain went to bed. Son's wife is histerical cos she's only been on a canal boat before and it's pitch black, miles out at sea and rolling about a bit. Anyway with captain fast asleep I try to get a bit of order and make this tub a bit more sea worthy. The piece of string holding the steel cable to the rudder got fixed And I tried many times to get the captains son who was the mechanic (and had the tools) to mend the compass. But he had no interest in the compass.

Some time in the middle of the night we got one of the GPS's working and changed course a couple of times till I could see the headland Off Salcolmbe in the early morning gloom. Captain wakes up and announces "there you are. You can go anywhere off a compass". By this time I've been up most of the night. the choice for sleeping was in the fore cabin with the sons wife and the Aga Cooker filling the place with smoke and not much heat or the aft cabin filled with rubbish and spare parts and freezing cold. The captain slept in the engine room which was the cleanest and warmest place on the boat. I started grumbling about breakfast and a cup of tea would be nice, About an hour later it arrived, Raw sausage butties and luke warm tea. Salcolme. Hunt round for a stove to replace the Aga. One of the crew comes back with a second hand primos. then off to the yatch club for shower and food.

Three am. and captain's ready for off. Points UP river and declares " there's the lights it's easy" I go opposite way over the bar and out to sea. Captain takes over cos I'm grumbling Again cos all the smoke from the Aga is blowing into the wheel house and I cant see the channel and cant breath either. We leave him in there for a couple of hours to stew. Meanwill the crews got the primos in the saloon. and are trying to light it with the petrol for my out board. Flames five foot high and rolling about the floor.

We're heading for Falmouth, 260deg (If my memmory serves me) With the Edistone lighthouse half way across. Son and wife have had enough of miles out at sea so captain takes the scenic route around the coast. this is ok but at five-six knot's it doubles the journey time. In the mean time back at the ranch. The sea's built up to a good force six/seven and the coast is disapearing in the rain. The captain is telling the crew to steer 260deg. This might have been ok from Salcolmbe but we're now somewhere off loe!! No way can I tell him he's wrong and the crew dont know any better. We're now heading for the rocks between Fowey and Falmouth with a big following sea. When they came into view. Captain and his now first mate ( Cos he dosent know any better so dos'nt argue) decides that you've got to ease the boat round slowly, (cos they saw it in a film somwhere) and anyway they dont like the look of the big folowing sea. An hour later. the boats still heading for the rocks and the captains still going to ease it round. Things are now getting a bit serious. Captain's wedged in the three foot square wheel house. The rest of the crew are petrifide in the saloon which dos'nt have a door but a ladder and hatch like a submarine.I've had enough, so telling the crew "it's going to bounce a bit I'm through the hatch dodge the waves coming over the deck and get into the wheel house with the captain. the compass is on the floor but there is'nt room to bend down and pick it up. I can see the day marker which is a big red and white tower off Fowey so I know where I'm heading for. Captain's face is now ash white but at least some of the arrAgance has gone. After screaming a bit I get him to put the wheel hard over and give the engine some stick. The boat comes round fine apart from upsetting the crew down in the hold and the chiefe mechanic complaining about the prop shaft. About hundred yards off Fowey the hand held VHF comes into range and Fowey radio asks if we are having trouble getting into harbour. "No" says the captain "we've just been fishing", "Well will you let us know when you're leaving" came the reply. I booked my self into the King of Persia for the night. and caught the train the next morning. The boat did eventualy arrive at Stourport after some arguments with another bouy, a rock, and some mud. And I think Lands End is a bit shorter than it used to be.

This story is purely ficticious and the cast bare no resemblence to any person living or dead and If you've noticed I cant spell!!



<hr width=100% size=1> Flags Solly MFBR</font color=red>
Haydn

 

[EME]

Re: All our yesterdays........

Oh for gawds sake , you and LC will have me in tears next !!

You ever posted anything of consequence then ?



<hr width=100% size=1><font color=blue>I am WHAT I say I am</font color=blue>