Crew's Log: Stewart, 13-17/07

Met Tim on the train from Waterloo to Weymouth and the trip was on. A few hours later we were aboard Catweasel and looking at the mountain of things to be done before we could leave. 24 hours later and most of it was done so we headed to the local for a last few pints before and early start on Friday to get around the infamous Portland Race. Local advice served well and we we cleared the race without problem and started plugging in waypoints so we could watch our progress. Typical of this information age is that our shore based followers had a better idea of our location than us, thanks to the SPOT tracking device Tim acquired.

The day didn't serve us up the best winds and Exmouth was looking like a sensible, if conservative stop for the night, a decision slightly compromised by the fact that we couldn't raise the harbour master by phone or VHF. Rather than chance the iffy looking entrance we opted to fire up the Yanmar and make for Teignmouth, about 2 hours away. At around 22:00 we were in and moored, at around 22:20 we were in the pub. You just have to love small harbours.

The following day was an early start and we broke south, aiming for Salcombe. The seas and winds were pretty lively but we made good progress, making our final approach to Salcombe's amazing harbour in the early evening. A few wrong turns later we were moored, had grabbed a water taxi, showered and made the pub for a couple of cheeky ones.

Sailing on the 17th was an exciting but short lived affair. We'd broken out past the headlands and were settling down for a day of beating into a strong north westerly when the coastguard came on the radio warning of gale force 8 in areas west of Start Point. Salcombe is the first thing to the west of Start Point so that meant we were sailing into some pretty unpleasant weather. So that was it - we'd only put in one tack and were heading back to harbour.

So here we sit, in the Victoria, hoping for fairer winds tomorrow. On the plus side, Salcombe is as great place. I've managed to bag some cheap waterproofs, we've got a load of gen on pubs, restaurants and tides from the locals and even met a girl from Bearsden, the suburb of Glasgow in which I was born. Tomorrow may see us here again but some friends have been in touch so if we're not sailing we'll try and hook up with them. Good times either way.

Crew's Log: Andrius, 6-10/07/11

Sailing is like jazz - against the tides, against the wind and no planning!

It’s a long entry. Believe me – you better off with a mug of coffee in your hand.

It has truly been several days to remember: bruised legs, sunburned face, few bums on the head, entire tiredness, shaking legs, no planning - just jazz... no, that's definitely not negative sides, that's was part of the adventure, that's an experience! That's what shapes us to better and more interesting persons! It was hardcore sailing - not a smooth one, not a boring one, not a planned one - that was an adventure with Catweasel ant her Captain Timothy S.A. Rawson!

Very very initial plan was to land in Gatwick and head straight to Portsmouth area to join HMS Catweasel and her Captain on the 30th June.

Just a week before the arrival to UK - I was informed that Catweasel needs some work to be done and therefore expected departure is not until 4th of July the earliest. Well, my meetings in UK were rescheduled and on the 2nd July I arrived to meet my captain to be in Brighton.

While waiting for the departure of Catweasel I managed to attend few meeting back in London, closed the biggest business deal so far this year, clean a few windows in Brighton and drink few beers (Guinness of course!) - but that's another story.

The day came and on wed the 6th of July we took of to Porchester were glorious Catweasel was fixed, improved and put into water. Tim and I met Stewart in marina (Stewart is the guy who knows what's going and but not the one in charge). I was shipped (literally) to the floating pontoon and left alone!

In the meantime guys went to bring Catweasel to the pontoon and all the stuff for round the world sailing. After Catweasel was brought to the pontoon - and here it was – by glorious moment - first foot on the front of the boat. It felt good!

Stewart rows, Tim tries in
vain to start the outboard.

Another batch of stuff from the shore was brought - I start "unpacking and putting everything inside" - it means – throwing (literally) everything inside the boat.

When the last stuff had to be brought to the boat by our small dingy - I saw Tim and Stewart urgently putting stuff out of the dingy back to the shore - dingy was getting water - actually until I left the boat - not sure if the reason for the water in the dingy was discovered. Actually we never used dingy afterwards. Another dingy was borrowed and the remaining stuff was delivered into the boat. Two hours passed and while the tide was high...

Portsmouth's 'Spinnaker Tower'

... my first movement on the boat. We did an “outstanding number” of nautical miles as far as Gosport marina on Wednesday evening. Catweasel was secured to a berth very easily (and I though it's the way it will always be). Discussion started about the next steps - we needed food for the rest of the adventure. At this point our opinion of what and where to eat became different. My plan was to go shopping; Tim's plan was pub first shopping later that day or even tomorrow. However Stewart supported me and after registering at the marina office we went of for shopping. After 9 pm. Gosport is a ghost town. All the way to Morrisons (~20 min walk) we saw one person on the high street... Morrison was closed. McDonalds was not only closed but permanently decommissioned. Smart phones came to the rescue and using our best friend for the rest of the week - GPS - we managed to locate the nearest shop ASDA.

Shopping was done within a budget (5 pounds per person per day). Having a few beers at pub (not me - I was still not feeling well after I had an off Guinness from the night before in Brighton - we approached kebab shop. Stewart and Tim had one big kebab each to take away - I still had my one liter healthy bio sth active yoghurt to drink. Close to midnight we returned to Catweasel and after whole day of excitement - I just fell asleep on my bank in the front cabin of the boat.

Motoring out of Gosport Marina

...and it was the best sleep in the long time! That swinging of the boat is so relaxing and calming. Stewart and Tim were already up and just when I came from the front cabin – I smelled a fresh ground coffee. It was Stewart who brought it from McDonalds. Tim left to get a shower and in the meantime I and Stewart were doing a shopping list for food (and other stuff) for the days to come. While cooking breakfast (really good - Thanks to Stewart) I noticed that Tim actually has moca Espress coffee pot! Ground coffee on the shopping list was added and we were off for shopping. Few hours and we were done (not really following the shopping list). Back at the boat we decided to give a go and take Catweasel to the solent channel. Sails were still not an option so we motored all the way to Yarmouth. It was windy, a bit wet, bumpy but relatively ok (pure my opinion). No sea sickness for me – but after few hours against the waves – I had an experience to use a toilet in the boat. And believe me – that was an experience when all your toilet is moving up and done left to right while you are doing … well what you usually do in the toilet  Resume, it’s a bit complicated but manageable. After spraying a bottle of some cheapish champagne all over Catweasel (well it's her first sort of official day to start round the world adventure) we arrived to Yarmouth. "Parking" was an easy as we secured our boat at the end of berth. Registering, showers, chili made by Stewart and we were off to check local pubs. Guinness was good, free wi-fi - the day was finished. 

Moored in Yarmouth

...Friday morning I woke up after another perfect relaxing sleep and after got to the rear cabin - I heard Tim and Stewart talking that we are not sailing today as Gale force 8 wind is expected imminent. Winds were just too strong to continue so another day in Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. Breakfast was made by me that morning (bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes with bread and butter) and we were off to check the town and ferry schedules as the men who knows what's going on ( =Stewart) had to leave Catweasel and her crew on Friday. We came back to pub visited yesterday to check weather forecast and have a beer (I just had half of my Guinness as the rest was knocked down by myself - see sickness to blame - on the ground I felt wavy and less coordinated). Stewart departed - I and Tim checked a new pub - one beer each and back to the boat. 

The Galley

Dinner -Special minced beef, baked beef and sth else sauce with bread - was served by Quartermaster Gurskis (me). Captain liked it (or that's at least what he told me - at least he ate all that stuff so it shouldn't have been so bad). After dinner we managed to watch 1/3 of the Jurassic park movie and were off to check the remaining pubs in town. Three pubs were visited that night - 4 Guinness drank and back to the boat for another perfect sleep.

...5am. Guinness was processed by my body and nature called to release unnecessary water. As quiet as I could - I went from front cabin to the berth. Tim was sleeping (or at least that's what he looked like). Half awake and probably still a bit drunk I stepped on the pontoon when suddenly heard from somewhere above - "Have a nice journey!". Apparently it wasn't God or Tim so I looked behind and saw another yacht leaving that was parked close to ours. I wished a pleasant journey back and walked to the shore to relieve myself from the Guinness and get back to sleep. Just as I was walking back to Catweasel - saw Tim “dancing” around the boat half dressed. Apparently another yacht rammed ours and Tim was forced to wake up really quickly. Such unplanned waking up is no good for him. Suddenly he had some strange idea that we have to leave (it was still roughly 5am in the morning). Half hour putting stuff back to the boat, eating breakfast (just leftovers from yesterday for myself) having a quick shot of espresso and before 6am we were off the Yarmouth marina. We motored out of the harbor to the open waters, sea was rough but decision was made to bring up sales for the first time.

The Needles

Such a great plan was suddenly forgotten as Tim noticed that main sails halliots (? main ropes) are tided together by another rope. Stewart was blamed for it. Decision was made to undo those ropes but sea became really rough, waves were coming in and decision (again) was dropped. We motored all the way across solent - against the wind but at least tide was in our favor - sort off. See was really rough. Even thou I was bravely standing in the cockpit and motoring, seasickness started to kick in and at one point when I decided to sit down – for the first (and the last time) I fed fishes with the remaining undigested content of the last food I ate. (Guinness and breakfast was to blame of course).

Tim continue to keep saying that in a few minutes when we reach that or another point- waters will get calmer and more relaxing. After 10th such notice and sth like 3 hours of motoring through the rough water - it actually became calmer. With no further a due - we approached the entrance to the Pool harbor. Two container ships were passed by and along the main entrance channel we entered the second biggest natural marina in the world. Tim called one of the berth parking/mooring place/thing office if they have space for our notoriously big 26 foot vessel - confirmation was received and in between red and green markers we entered the main channel (or at least that's what we though we did). At some point while I was motoring and steering - Tim had a strange idea to turn 90 degrees to the starboard side (for those that knows less sailing terms than I do - it's right side of the boat). Few seconds after - engine was still going ahead but the boat was not. We hit the ground. Reverse did not help, even my idea that Tim has to go in front of the boat as far as he could and the weight of the boat will be rebalanced and we somehow move away - it didn't help. Call was made to marina for help. However after 20 minutes - tide started to come and we were free again. GPS logger came to help and we noticed that instead of us thinking being in the main channel of the marina - we actually already were in the North Channel close to the place were we had to leave boat. I bravely steered in the closed harbor - our "parking place" was supposed to be 12A. As we saw it - it was few seconds to late but I still decided to give a go and bravely turned to the left (port side). I managed to hit the pontoon just in the center but it was enough time for Tim get off to the pontoon. After not sure what to do and seeing that in the next few seconds tide will push me towards a million dollars worth motorboat - I got a strange idea to go in reverse. And I did. Tim was left on the pontoon waving hands and shouting "Men what a h*** are you doing?" To be honest - I didn’t know. It was first time doing something similar – apparently steering 26 ft vessel – is somewhat different compared to steering a car. I saw another place for parking and shouted to Tim to run around the pontoon to the other side. He did it and again I hit the center of the pontoon (the initial plan was to go on the left side of it. Not sure how - but we managed to secure a boat in some other spot and Tim went to the marina registry to find out if it was ok - and it wasn't. We had to move Catweasel on the other side of our pontoon. This time we walked the boat and it was just perfect. 9A place was also good.

Moored in Poole

Our boat was "parked" among at least half million dollars worth of yacht on one side and another million worth on the other side and proudly face few million worth vessels on the opposite side of the channel! Catweasel’s blue bottom and yellowish deck a bit different from the other shining white boats parked around...

After showers to put salt off; cleaning; tiding the boat as most of the stuff was aground after rough sea - we were off to town. Beer, shopping for highly flammable liquid for our stove which prevented us from traveling on public transport (apparently highly flammable liquids are not allowed on public transport in UK) back to the boat, short nap, and back to the town for fish and chip and beer. Not very successful fish and chips hunting as we had to walk 5 miles to finally find a pub that serves not only beer but also fish and cheap. Walking wasn't silent - I tried to convince Tim that with his 85 amps batteries running 13 volts he could boil imaginary cattle (2000 watts 230 volts) for just half an hour. Tim was even pulling an idea that it could run for 8 hours. Even a tech text enquiry to my tech friend and his confirmation that - yes it still half an hour did not convince Tim. After 2 hours of such discussion - we finally approached a pub, had fish and chips and few beer each, took a taxi back to the boat and another perfect sleep.

... and the last day on the boat came. We were awake just before 10 am, showers, small breakfast for myself and before 11 am suggested by a "local expert" we left marina. The plan was to sail (actually sail not motor anymore) to the Weymouth were our good friend Peter kindly suggested to come and pick me up as the next day I had to catch a flight from Gatwick (and I did as this entry is being written on the plane). That was the plan anyway. We motored out of the marina to open waters with no incidents and started to put sails on. Even thou I am not an expert - but I think the whole sails up thing has to be done a lot smoother. Tim was running up and back the boat and shouting to release undone one or another rope while keeping boat head to wind. I was trying to execute his order as precise and fast as I could but that head to wind thing was not my thing. Front Gip (?) sail was up after some time and the work on the main sail was started. Long story short - after some shouting; failing to do that head to wind thing and with some help of an ordinary spoon – the main sail was up to; engine off and peace and calmness of the see... Finally!

Under Sail

Sails first time ever and I was behind it - keeping them (or trying to) 45 degrees to the wind and we were sailing. Actually sailing and moving forward. We did first tack. No problem. Seconds one - no problem again... All was good for almost two hours when we looked to the coastline and it hardly changed - in theory we had to move along it against the wind. GPS was brought to help and it showed that our land speed was roughly 1 - 2 knots while sea speed almost 7 at some points. We realized that we are heading not only against the wind but also against the tide. Actually I was a bit suspicious when after putting sail and seeing that a lot of sailing boats were coming towards us from Weymouth side and none with us to Weymouth. If we kept such speed - our ETA to Weymouth was about 12 hours and that is after midnight my dear readers. We decided not to risk (and not to trust any local expert advice from then on) and motor was kicked in; sails down (well putting sails down is another story with a bit of shouting, a bit of sth going wrong, me still not really managing to keep head to wind thing and finally one of the long main (important) ropes dangling on the top of the mast).

Traffic

Against the wind against the tide against and all the other boats we start heading straight towards Weymouth marina. ETA was still like 8 hours but the idea - that tide at some point had to turn around and help us instead of slowing - kept us going. No service on the phone - no way to inform Mr. Woodger that we will be very late to Weymouth (if at all before midnight). We just hoped that he will decide to check our spot thing tracker online and see where we actually are before start driving (and as we later found out - he did). Finally after 6 hours or pure motoring and me staring directly at the sun behind the lever and catching salty sea sprays (that's why I look pretty reddish on my face today) we managed to sail into Weymouth marina. Tim cracked the radio, called Harbor Master and we were good to enter and tide our boat to another one called High Sun, after several minutes of motoring we found it. The instruction was not really clear for me how to actually stare the boat - I just listened to Tim’s command to kill the engine and with Tim on the front of the boat I bravely ramped Weymouth marina/pontoon thing! One command was missing that after killing engine I actually had to turn right in order to come on the side. Bright side - even years to come in Weymouth marina I will still be able to find blue marked dent in it!

Weymouth

Boat was secured, Peter arrived, showers taken, things packed and Catweasel was left. My last Guinness, fish and chips in Weymouth and close to 11 at night we left Weymouth. I decided not to sleep even thou I was really tired but at some point I actually napped in the car on the way to Brighton. However not really possible to sleep when driving with Peter - he does not slow down on round about so some side force waked me up on every turn. Back to Brighton, back to sleep and well amazing week was finished.

It’s a plan (but well again plan is a jazz) to rejoined Catweasel and her Captain somewhere in the Meds later this year. For now – have a safe journey Catweasel and her Captain – Timothy S.A. Rawson!

Crew's Log: Stewart, Round the Island Race 2011

Friday June 24th, 9am, and Catweasel's crew were at Basingstoke station, hungover and ever so slightly sleep deprived after the last leg of Tim's tour of leaving dos. The plan was to head for the marina, get out onto the Solent by early afternoon and get some sailing time in ahead of the race. Carlos was a sailing virgin, Neil had sailed before but not for a while and Tim and I have both sailed on and off over about 25 years. Basically we weren't up to much and were all popping our RTI cherry - all the practice we could get was needed.

Within 5 minutes of leaving Basingstoke things had started to unravel. There was a fire by the railway line and we were running about an hour late by the time we reached Winchester - normally a 15 minute journey. This put our already mid-morning arrival at Wicor marina back to early afternoon, a delay compounded by the thoughtlessness of Portchester's planning authorities, who had consented to the building of a pub between Portchester station and the marina.

The next problem was with the sail. We'd taken the spare main in to get GBR numbered (for sailing in foreign parts), for some reason assuming it wasn't already wearing Catweasel's class number of CO170. It was. The meant that rather than slapping a few numbers on, the old ones had to be removed along with any remnants of glue, delaying the process considerably. By the time we left our mooring it was getting on for 5:30pm. No matter, we'd attach the sail to the boom, head off and worry about the rest as we motored out of harbour and get at least some tacking under the belts of our new crew. No - that wasn't to be either. The sail slide at the head of the main had been replaced as a precaution and had come with about two milimetres of bonus width. That meant some frenzied filing was needed and, while the Leatherman is a great tool, it's not the quickest way of slimming a sail slide and sat at the foot of the mast in the swell of the Solent isn't the best place in which to do it either, especially with Carlos having a roaring time at the helm and homing in on the biggest of the swells. Amongst nautical types there is a term for someone like that and the term is "bastard".

Delays and sail problems aside, we arrived at our swinging mooring on Cowes Road without incident, called the Island Sailing Club launch and made for the Vectis Tavern PDQ. This was our penultimate chance to settle on a clear strategy for the race so we got drunk and had a kebab.

Race day dawned in rather a grey manner with a fresh wind on the go, largely down to the kebabs I think. Having failed to use the previous evening to nail down a strategy we decided to go ashore and have breakfast at Eegons, where a "freshly cooked" fry up went from order to table in around 2 minutes. The strategy arrived at was that we would endeavour to to neither sink nor drown.

Back to Catweasel in the nick of time, assuming our intention was to be still on the mooring and halfway through the safety briefing when our start gun went off - I don't know if it was but we were. It was always a given that we were cruising and not racing so missing the carnage at the start line was a bonus really, and the delay would provide our first excuse for our anticipated poor time.

In no time we were underway and in no time Carlos, our sailing virgin, was feeling rough as hell. We must have been about halfway to the Needles when he broke Catweasel's chunder cherry. It was done with a degree of class mind you as a Harrods carrier bag was used to catch what should have flown off to leeward. Progress to Hurst Castle and the Needles was slow and, with the wind and swell increasing, the majority of cautious cruisers around us started to turn back. Our caution was driven by collision avoidance but we were all up for the wind and swell. Well, everyone apart from Carlos, who had retired below to hide on a bunk, held in by a lee cloth where he was kept nervously entertained by Mayday Panpan FM with nothing but a Harrods bag for company.

The only OMG moment we suffered was a failed tack whilst getting up close and personal with the Needles. The wind was slightly south of the swell so the momentum that took us through the wind was bludgeoned into submission by the swell while the sails were still luffing in the wind. This OMG moment was shortly followed by our only OMFG moment when the same thing happened again, this time even closer to the Needles. It was quickly decided that our only routes to safety were a disqualifying engine start or bearing away and jybing onto the port tack we needed. Desperate not to bow out on the first leg we turned our butt to the wind and before you could say "What comes after OMFG in the scale of escalating exclamations?" we had the Needles moving away from us.

The leg from the Needles to St Cat's point was a lonely one for us. Most of the people we'd started with, at the very back of the last fleet, seemed to have a greater sense of their own limitations and mortality and had turned back before the Needles. Carlos popped up from below briefly on this leg and got some sound advice from Tim on dealing with seasickness, threw up and went below again. Neil then decided he was going to take over on the wretching relay at which point, relieved of the burden of chunder monkey duty, Carlos started to recover. The swell we had on our beam down to St Cat's Point gave way to some lumpy stuff around the point itself and then it all got rather dull past Sandown Bay to be honest. We passed the capsized trimaran that we'd heard of so many times on Ch16 just in time to see the Bembridge Lifeboat not tow it anywhere. I don't know how that one came back in the end but it won't have been easy.

Given our imminent return to the Solent and all it's business we decided it was time to get some charting action on the go, so Tim went below to retrieve one of Imray's finest. Seconds later he was back on deck displaying the internationally recognised facial expression for "F#ck that sh#t!!" and spent the next half an hour trying to hang on to his lunch. I should point out at this point that our stowing was not up to the desired standard. To be honest it wasn't up to any standard and between the first four or five tacks off the start line the inside of the cabin started to resemble a badly loaded skip. Neil bravely went below and shovelled for all he was worth but, whilst dramatically decreasing the clutter and hazard, there was no real sense of what might be classed as order. Obviously this scared the life out of our neatly organised RTI folder and it had run off to cower in a corner, taking with it its contents of charts and instructions and leaving our downfall in its place. Without a chart upon which to plot our lat and long we fell back to basics - keep a big number of the depth finder and relying on the only available navigational aid, namely an out of date Collins road atlas of the UK (scale approximately one to a number with an awful lot of zeros on the end). At this point we noticed a nearby yacht sporting the familiar purple pennant of our fleet so decided we ought to stay close to him. Close enough in fact that we could clearly hear her helmsman when he yelled "You didn't round the Bembridge Lege Buoy. We're going to protest you." and for him to hear our response of "Er...OK". The wind and swell had pretty much died out by this time so I had another stab at finding the race folder and succeeded. All that was left in it was a note about protests, which was handy. Take it on the chin and get a 2% time penalty or argue the toss and risk a 5% hit. We had no idea about whether we had or hadn't rounded the buoy so called race control to 'fess up.

Once safely past Ryde Sands we half drifted toward Cowes and into the most painfully slow approach to the finish line in the history of the race. Any dignity that hadn't been lost already was jettisoned in the worst series of tacks bar none, the culmination of which was Catweasel losing all way and sort of drifting sideways across the line at 19:35 on the race clock, 11 hours and 55 minutes after our departure.

First contact with shore revealed that we had been disqualified but that we had confirmation of our completion and finish time courtesy of the official race blog. Okay so we'd cut a corner but had an outstanding day and had got round. On further enquiry it turned out we'd been disqualified because of the Bembridge Ledge Buoy incident, had not been protested for it and had basically grassed ourselves up in a vain effort to cut a deal with the race committee.

Another call to the ISC launch, followed by showers and we were back in the Vectis. This was followed by a meal and then a mooch around the entertainment laid on by JP Morgan before a water taxi took us back to our mooring.

Sunday dawned bright up and misty to the sides, with only the top of the Fawley chimney visible to the north of Cowes, so we launched back to Cowes after a wok full of sausages, bacon, beans and mushrooms, having decided Eegon's was a maybe a greasy spoon short of a cutlery set. The day brightened still further and after a healthy mooch around, and discovering that the Vectis was a late opener, we went back to the ISC for some San Miguels in the sun while Tim watched the prize giving.

As as soon as the ceremonies were finished we launched back to the ready to go Catweasel. With the engine running and Neil on the foredeck to cast off, the mooring line conveniently broke, chaffed through by the shackle on top of the swinging mooring. If we were to have pondered the carnage that might have ensued were this to have happened at any other time we'd have been mighty worried, so we didn't. A hefty piece of chain has since been purchased for future use.

A short motor across a misty Solent later and we were back in Pompey harbour and closing fast on Wicor. We'd had a truly fantastic weekend and a great kick off to Tim's round the world exploits. Both yacht and crew had done the necessary and done so with, if not style then certainly humour. It was, without doubt, a weekend that will not be forgotten.

Crew's Log: Stewart, 01-04/06/11

What do you know - all was well and good after all. Well, mostly.

Thomas and I met Philip at Hornet as planned and after a quick run through of vital systems we'd waved farewell to him and were chugging into the heart of Portsmouth harbour with Wicor on our mind. No massive problems on the way other than another yacht being on the mooring we were supposed to pick up, and we spent the rest of the day getting familiarised with those finer points that hadn't seemed significant enough earlier in the day to bother Philip with. Oh, and the wind caught the forward hatch while I was getting the dinghy out, slammed it into the the deck and did for the hinges. Nothing major and a repair ought to be a simple enough thing. Honest Tim!

The following morning we visited the local BP station to stock up on fuel and then headed out into the Solent. With a light but steady wind we decided to get the sails up and in no time were approaching Cowes. We anchored in Osborne Bay, just to the east of Cowes, for lunch and Thomas promptly decided he was going to suffer from a bout of seasickness. Luckily it passed as soon as we were under way again and he was untroubled for the rest of our time aboard.

Having returned to the mooring that night we decided to putt down the river in the dinghy and see what we could see. The answer? Not much - we'd got about a mile downstream and ran out of petrol. I had it in my head that I'd filled the tank but all I'd done was drain the fuel can. We, or rather I, had to row upstream so I did not row gently, neither did I row 'merrily merrily merilly merilly' and life was certainly not a dream - particularly after I let the painter slip when we got back to Catweasel and watched the sodding dinghy slowly drift away. I leapt back to the cockpit for the boat hook but by the time I was back on the bow and trying to catch the dinghy she was gone. Shorts off, shirt off, Stewart in!

A strong northerly blew all night and was still at it come Friday morning so I decided it would most likely not be a sailing day. We motored out and I had my first experience of why Portsmouth harbour can be such a sod. Well, actually my first experience (aboard a yacht at least) of why a sod can be such a sod - As we came through the relatively narrow harbour mouth we had a gin palace bearing down on us at a rate of knots as he came in from the Solent. I looked about to make sure we were in the right place and all was well but this chap just kept coming. Time ticked slowly by and it became obvious he had no intention of moving to pass on out port side so I heaved the tiller to my left, lurched to starboard and then had to straighten up again before we had an altercation with the harbour wall. The helmsman on the gin palace seemed amazed by this as he looked down from his flying bridge and slammed his vessel into reverse. A member of their crew was despatched to the foredeck to demand an explanation and as I yelled (with perhaps a little too much help from Thomas) "We should be passing port to port, what are you doing!?!?" she yelled "Your supposed to pass on this side of us!", pointing to their starboard beam, "It's the rules of the road!". I was too stunned to reply. I kind of hope they learned from it after a "You'll never guess what happened to us today!?" conversation with a wiser skipper but know that there will be a hundred more out there with the "If it's got a steering wheel I'll drive it like a car" approach.

So that was Friday. Saturday morning was a time of tidying up, locking down and heading home and so we did.

Crew's Log: Stewart, 31/05/11

After a frenzy of emails and shopping and arguments with train companies, my son and I are ready to head for Portsmouth to collect my brother's new yacht, Catweasel. She's being moved from her previous owner's mooring at Hornet Sailing Club to the slightly less glamorous but, Hornet being a Forces only club, infinitely more available Wicor Marina at Fareham. All being well and good, all should be well and good, however my record aboard Catweasel does not shine like a beacon in the night...

Erroneous action the 1st, day 1 - Catweasel runs aground:
Yes, I was at the helm but no, it was not my fault. No seriously! With Lewis Hamiltonesque misfortune I was a victim of circumstance and blamed by those who should know better. All I did was turn to starboard - the mud shouldn't have been there! It turned into me!! Stupid mud. It didn't make no never mind though, as we managed to "kedge off" - something that I learned by observation and participation to mean "send the idiot who got us into this mess down stream to drop the anchor directly over a submerged power cable so we can winch ourselves off the bottom". If I'm honest, I'm not 100% sure the involvement of the power cable was intentional but then I'm only crew, and working hard on maintaining my blissful ignorance.

Erroneous action the 2nd, day 2: Catweasel catches fire:

Yeah, so this one was my fault. I lit the meths stove while we were motoring and forgot that I needed to unlock the gimbals. What was iffy while motoring became damn near disastrous when we raised the sails and headed into the Solent. Thankfully Philip, the previous owner, was aboard to save the day. He's probably wondering what his baby is going to suffer at the hands of her new crew.

So that's a howler per day aboard and tomorrow will be day 3, unsupervised, apart from by Tom the cabin boy, in one of the UK's busiest harbours. Tim, it has to be said, is a tad nervous.