Bru
Well-Known Member
It started out well enough - the craning onto the trailer went without a hitch (other than the one attaching the trailer to the tow vehicle) and the journey from Woodbridge to Fambridge passed without incident (and past the boat on the trailer in a layby suspiciously adjacent to a butty van on the A12!)
The launch went without any drama at all. Close to high water, perfect timing to motor the few yards out and down onto the visitors pontoon to sort everything out.
That's when the first problem occurred - on starting the outboard which had behaved impeccably under test at home, petrol started p*ss*ng out of the bottom of the engine. On removing the cover, it could be seen squirting merrily from the vent on top of the carb - easy diagnosis that one, stuck float valve or non-floating float in the bowl
Air filter off, carb off, remove bowl, WD40, fiddle, test, works, reassemble, test, works, OK! Only an hour or so of time wasted, hey ho.
Now Confuscious he say "man who make plan based on critical timing and not rethink plan when timing goes t*ts up is right plonker". Said right plonker (that'll be me then) backs out off slipway straight into what is now a fast flowing ebb tide instead of slack water. That coupled with a strengthening Westerly breeze made life more than a little tricky.
Instead of backing away from the slip and motoring around the end of the pontoon to a nice safe and easy berth, I found myself being swept sideways towards the shore access pontoon and to make matters even more interesting the cold and only recently de-winterised outboard decided to cut out as I changed gear from astern to ahead to try and dig myself out of the situation!
I'll give it some credit - in my experience 2 stroke o/bs that have cut out can be somewhat reluctant to get going again but it started up third pull and gave me some control of what happened next. No chance of avoiding being swept down onto the pontoon, the choice was more a case of what to hit. To the right were several nice squashy inflatables (a soft landing I grant you), to the left was a big steel barge (unlikely we'd do more than scrape their paint but not ideal). In the middle? A rusty steel pile.
Now the way I figured it, the pile would be unlikely to have an insurance agent so deciding this was the lesser of three evils that's what I aimed for. With a rather firm thud we duly arrived at that location and ended up neatly parked (pinned would be more precise).
Now any good boater knows what to do in this situation. Tie up to the (quite by chance) conveniently placed cleats and pretend that's where you meant to end up!
Two cigarettes and a cup of coffee (the new Cookmate spirit stove worked a treat so something was going right at least) later and my nerves had calmed down enough to contemplate the next task - raising the mast.
With Rik and I heaving it up from on deck, Jane keeping the roller reefing gear from damage, Mark up on the cabin top assisting to shove and Glen on the pontoon with the genoa halyard stopping it falling back on our heads, we were able to "walk" the mast up relatively easily. So far so good until we went to shackle the forestay back onto the bow fitting only to find that the pin had fallen out of the relevant shackle in transit.
Urgently needing a shackle, one was swiftly detached from the genoa top swivel and fitted before Glen expired from the effort of holding the mast up (which wasn't doing his dodgy back any good). That solved the immediate problem but you can no doubt figure it would come back to haunt us later
Much time was now spent sorting out standing and running rigging, getting to grips with the shambles below decks and so on. As the water departed the keels settled onto and then into the mud thus inadvertently making this the first occasion on which we would try out the drying out capabilities of the twin keels.
Eventually, it was time to down tools and repair to the Ferry Boat for a much needed pint or three and a decent meal (very good). After an early start on the road, we were all fairly knackered so left (unusually for us) well before closing time - Jane and I to a nice warm cosy B&B chalet behind the pub (we're stoopid but not THAT stoopid!) and the three lads to a somewhat less restful night aboard - they were disturbed when she refloated and had to go and adjust lines and fenders and then further disturbed by her settling back onto the bottom again but were remarkably cheerful and cooking up bacon and sausage buttys when Jane and I, having dined on a full English with copious coffee and toast, arrived fully expecting a disgruntled and mutinous crew threatening to jump ship forthwith!
More tweaking of rigging, more sorting out below decks and by late morning she was a> afloat and b> starting to look like a proper boat instead of a complete bl**dy shambles. Sometime around this point, a couple wandered along the pontoon and introduced themselves as fellow forumites and I have to confess to my shame that I now can't for the life of me remember who you were
sorry! I'm terrible with names at the best of times and with everything that was going on I'm afraid the brain cell was about frazzled.
Oh well, it now being about an hour and a half shy of high water, and having seen how fast the ebb starts to run once the tide turns at Fambridge, we reckoned now was the time to have another go at getting her where she should be - on the main pontoon and facing upwind (I was still harbouring thoughts of bending on the sails at this point)
Being wise to the ways of recalcitrant outboards, we deemed it prudent to check whether the float valve was still playing the game and sure enough it was stuck again. Off with the carb, invert it, back upright and Bob is your Aunties husband. A permanent fix is needed urgently 'cos I'm not taking the carb off the engine and putting it back on every damn time I want to start it up!
With the engine ticking over nicely for ten minutes or so we reckoned it was good to go so, with a good shove on the bows to get her moving the tide helped to swing her round against the breeze and we motored out and around the end of the pontoon without any drama at all. Tricky to decide whether to come onto the pontoon uptide but downwind or vice versa as they seemed to be about equal in their overall effect (and therefore possibly irrelevant) but I opted to go for the received wisdom of always approaching uptide and we arrived at the desired spot without drama (thank God for small mercies!)
We then turned the boat whilst keeping the bow attached to the pontoon so that she lay facing upwind. We then debated the merits of the shackle we'd used to attach the forestay to the stemhead fitting and I conceded that Rik and Glen were probably right about not relying on a shackle two sizes smaller than the original so we abandoned the plan to bend on the sails which will have to wait until that shackle has been replaced with a bigger bugger. and the smaller one returned to its rightful place attaching the head of the genoa to the top swivel
More sorting of kit led to the discovery that the depth sounder works when it feels like it - about once every 10 minutes or so - and the log is even lazier. Removed the whole lot for Rik to take back home and investigate - the log appears to be a problem with the impeller which spins freely enough by hand but barely spins at all or just sits there doing sweet FA in the water. The depth sounder seems to be a break in the cable or a bad connector - as that's the important bit (for now at least) hopefully Rik can fettle it.
Oh yes, there was a lunchtime pint in the mix somewhere too! Glen departed thereafter, the rest of us pressed on until late afternoon when Rik headed back off to the West Country and then, after a final sort out to leave everything moderately tidy, Jane, Mark and I piled into the car (which strangely seemed to be more full of kit than on the way down) to head home.
The yacht station staff will move Brigantia onto her swinging mooring on the morrow so on our next visit in a fortnight we'll have the added potential for a complete c*ck up of paddling out to the boat in the tender - methinks I shall be seeking a decent little 2hp o/b for the dinghy a bit sharpish 'cos I don't fancy rowing against the tide now I've seen how fast it can run!
So a slightly frustrating but all in all reasonably successful weekend
The launch went without any drama at all. Close to high water, perfect timing to motor the few yards out and down onto the visitors pontoon to sort everything out.
That's when the first problem occurred - on starting the outboard which had behaved impeccably under test at home, petrol started p*ss*ng out of the bottom of the engine. On removing the cover, it could be seen squirting merrily from the vent on top of the carb - easy diagnosis that one, stuck float valve or non-floating float in the bowl
Air filter off, carb off, remove bowl, WD40, fiddle, test, works, reassemble, test, works, OK! Only an hour or so of time wasted, hey ho.
Now Confuscious he say "man who make plan based on critical timing and not rethink plan when timing goes t*ts up is right plonker". Said right plonker (that'll be me then) backs out off slipway straight into what is now a fast flowing ebb tide instead of slack water. That coupled with a strengthening Westerly breeze made life more than a little tricky.
Instead of backing away from the slip and motoring around the end of the pontoon to a nice safe and easy berth, I found myself being swept sideways towards the shore access pontoon and to make matters even more interesting the cold and only recently de-winterised outboard decided to cut out as I changed gear from astern to ahead to try and dig myself out of the situation!
I'll give it some credit - in my experience 2 stroke o/bs that have cut out can be somewhat reluctant to get going again but it started up third pull and gave me some control of what happened next. No chance of avoiding being swept down onto the pontoon, the choice was more a case of what to hit. To the right were several nice squashy inflatables (a soft landing I grant you), to the left was a big steel barge (unlikely we'd do more than scrape their paint but not ideal). In the middle? A rusty steel pile.
Now the way I figured it, the pile would be unlikely to have an insurance agent so deciding this was the lesser of three evils that's what I aimed for. With a rather firm thud we duly arrived at that location and ended up neatly parked (pinned would be more precise).
Now any good boater knows what to do in this situation. Tie up to the (quite by chance) conveniently placed cleats and pretend that's where you meant to end up!
Two cigarettes and a cup of coffee (the new Cookmate spirit stove worked a treat so something was going right at least) later and my nerves had calmed down enough to contemplate the next task - raising the mast.
With Rik and I heaving it up from on deck, Jane keeping the roller reefing gear from damage, Mark up on the cabin top assisting to shove and Glen on the pontoon with the genoa halyard stopping it falling back on our heads, we were able to "walk" the mast up relatively easily. So far so good until we went to shackle the forestay back onto the bow fitting only to find that the pin had fallen out of the relevant shackle in transit.
Urgently needing a shackle, one was swiftly detached from the genoa top swivel and fitted before Glen expired from the effort of holding the mast up (which wasn't doing his dodgy back any good). That solved the immediate problem but you can no doubt figure it would come back to haunt us later
Much time was now spent sorting out standing and running rigging, getting to grips with the shambles below decks and so on. As the water departed the keels settled onto and then into the mud thus inadvertently making this the first occasion on which we would try out the drying out capabilities of the twin keels.
Eventually, it was time to down tools and repair to the Ferry Boat for a much needed pint or three and a decent meal (very good). After an early start on the road, we were all fairly knackered so left (unusually for us) well before closing time - Jane and I to a nice warm cosy B&B chalet behind the pub (we're stoopid but not THAT stoopid!) and the three lads to a somewhat less restful night aboard - they were disturbed when she refloated and had to go and adjust lines and fenders and then further disturbed by her settling back onto the bottom again but were remarkably cheerful and cooking up bacon and sausage buttys when Jane and I, having dined on a full English with copious coffee and toast, arrived fully expecting a disgruntled and mutinous crew threatening to jump ship forthwith!
More tweaking of rigging, more sorting out below decks and by late morning she was a> afloat and b> starting to look like a proper boat instead of a complete bl**dy shambles. Sometime around this point, a couple wandered along the pontoon and introduced themselves as fellow forumites and I have to confess to my shame that I now can't for the life of me remember who you were
sorry! I'm terrible with names at the best of times and with everything that was going on I'm afraid the brain cell was about frazzled.Oh well, it now being about an hour and a half shy of high water, and having seen how fast the ebb starts to run once the tide turns at Fambridge, we reckoned now was the time to have another go at getting her where she should be - on the main pontoon and facing upwind (I was still harbouring thoughts of bending on the sails at this point)
Being wise to the ways of recalcitrant outboards, we deemed it prudent to check whether the float valve was still playing the game and sure enough it was stuck again. Off with the carb, invert it, back upright and Bob is your Aunties husband. A permanent fix is needed urgently 'cos I'm not taking the carb off the engine and putting it back on every damn time I want to start it up!
With the engine ticking over nicely for ten minutes or so we reckoned it was good to go so, with a good shove on the bows to get her moving the tide helped to swing her round against the breeze and we motored out and around the end of the pontoon without any drama at all. Tricky to decide whether to come onto the pontoon uptide but downwind or vice versa as they seemed to be about equal in their overall effect (and therefore possibly irrelevant) but I opted to go for the received wisdom of always approaching uptide and we arrived at the desired spot without drama (thank God for small mercies!)
We then turned the boat whilst keeping the bow attached to the pontoon so that she lay facing upwind. We then debated the merits of the shackle we'd used to attach the forestay to the stemhead fitting and I conceded that Rik and Glen were probably right about not relying on a shackle two sizes smaller than the original so we abandoned the plan to bend on the sails which will have to wait until that shackle has been replaced with a bigger bugger. and the smaller one returned to its rightful place attaching the head of the genoa to the top swivel
More sorting of kit led to the discovery that the depth sounder works when it feels like it - about once every 10 minutes or so - and the log is even lazier. Removed the whole lot for Rik to take back home and investigate - the log appears to be a problem with the impeller which spins freely enough by hand but barely spins at all or just sits there doing sweet FA in the water. The depth sounder seems to be a break in the cable or a bad connector - as that's the important bit (for now at least) hopefully Rik can fettle it.
Oh yes, there was a lunchtime pint in the mix somewhere too! Glen departed thereafter, the rest of us pressed on until late afternoon when Rik headed back off to the West Country and then, after a final sort out to leave everything moderately tidy, Jane, Mark and I piled into the car (which strangely seemed to be more full of kit than on the way down) to head home.
The yacht station staff will move Brigantia onto her swinging mooring on the morrow so on our next visit in a fortnight we'll have the added potential for a complete c*ck up of paddling out to the boat in the tender - methinks I shall be seeking a decent little 2hp o/b for the dinghy a bit sharpish 'cos I don't fancy rowing against the tide now I've seen how fast it can run!
So a slightly frustrating but all in all reasonably successful weekend
I am indeed blessed (thanks Mum) with the moniker Bruce 
