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.
Sunday, 17 July 2011
captain's log 16th July 2011 Fareham to Salcombe Bay
16th July 2011 - Am sat in the Ferry Inn in Salcombe with Stewart. A pint is in front of each of us and we’re ‘havin’ a go at updating our respective blogs. ‘Ere’s mine.
picking up Stewart in Weymouth
We left just over a week ago and struggled to get the sails up for one reason and another (gales, poor preparation, tiny niggling issues) but, finally, the sails went up. I must admit to a feeling of frustration when I am not moving forward so I felt a nice sense of relief when we were finally moving. At the same time I felt a growing sense of apprehension as one of the significant events looms ever closer on the horizon - can my brother and I survive each other AND the elements as we cross the Biscay? Well, in a few days I/we find out. There’s no way I could have it this far without him (Stewart) but we do bicker and when we do I get saddened and have a hard time seeing the lighter side for a few hours. That said we are working., I think, hard to resolve conflict issues as they arise and I reckon we’re eventually going to run out of things to fight about…brothers eh?!!
Salcombe Bay - the GPS saw 20 knots here :) and it's real pirate bay stuff, I loved it.
Anyway, enough for now, next entry from, I hope, Plymouth.
picking up Stewart in Weymouth
We left just over a week ago and struggled to get the sails up for one reason and another (gales, poor preparation, tiny niggling issues) but, finally, the sails went up. I must admit to a feeling of frustration when I am not moving forward so I felt a nice sense of relief when we were finally moving. At the same time I felt a growing sense of apprehension as one of the significant events looms ever closer on the horizon - can my brother and I survive each other AND the elements as we cross the Biscay? Well, in a few days I/we find out. There’s no way I could have it this far without him (Stewart) but we do bicker and when we do I get saddened and have a hard time seeing the lighter side for a few hours. That said we are working., I think, hard to resolve conflict issues as they arise and I reckon we’re eventually going to run out of things to fight about…brothers eh?!!
Salcombe Bay - the GPS saw 20 knots here :) and it's real pirate bay stuff, I loved it.
Anyway, enough for now, next entry from, I hope, Plymouth.
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
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 |
 |
| 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!
Sunday, 3 July 2011
2nd July 2011 Captain’s Log
Nautical Miles Logged - 50 (plus a bit from Portchester to Cowes and return)
Current Position of the Catweasel - Portchester (Wicor Marine)
Total Crew Count to date (inc. myself) - 4
Be warned - this is a long one, put the kettle on.
It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been remiss in keeping this blog so, here I am, on the train to Portsmouth Harbour, writing.
I need to wind the clock back about eight days (to the 24th June) to a sunny morning in Basingstoke.
The plan
Meet at the railway station at 09:00, purchase provisions in Sainsbury’s, catch the 10:00 to Portchester, spend an hour getting ready and then sail to Cowes. Stewart and I would spend the day providing some basic training to Carlos and Neil as well as playing with the spinnaker. We’d moor up by 16:00 ish and then head into town for a few beers. The next day, so said the plan, we’d race the RTI, each one taking a 2 hour watch at the helm, in the crew position, at the navigation table and finally a off watch. It was a solid plan. We’d complete the race, triumphant, and celebrate in style in Cowes. Along the way we’d been cheered on by friends (some of whom had flown in from Vienna) and parents (who’d flown down from Scotland).
The reality....
Ahh, of mice and men. We got on the train at Basingstoke and everything went well until someone said “What’s the worst that could happen?“. The train stopped. There was a trackside fire and we couldn’t proceed. An hour we sat there. Arriving at the marina an hour behind schedule (but not really bothered as I’d built in some contingency), I went off to meet the sail maker who was putting race numbers on the spare sail whilst the other three loaded the Catweasel. For reasons best blamed on myself the sail wasn’t ready but not to worry, they said, - it’d be done by about 16:00. So we set off a tad later than hoped for and had lost the training time but no worries - we arrived in Cowes, at our swinging mooring, at roughly 18:00. The Catweasel was ready.
Race day - the 25th June 2011 . With the previous nights beers and kebabs sloshing around in our stomachs we headed off to Eegons for a pre race fry-up. In hindsight, this may have been a mistake. Anyway - back on board we waited on our swinging mooring for our starting gun having decided that being a wuss was better part of sailing (plus we didn’t want to sink anyone or be sunk). With the main pack off we loosed our warp and off we went, some fifteen minutes or so behind the main pack (our start time was 07:40). There were several boats near us so a careful watch was required but we’d made the right move I reckon. Avoiding the main pack reduced our newbie stress levels and we could focus on the sailing. Our only hails were of the jolly type rather than the screams of “starboard!!!”’ which could be heard drifting across the water.
The passage to the Needles was pretty rough and it “did for” Carlos who discovered a whole new way of feeling ill. After he’d fed the fish he went down below for a kip and the Catweasel was, for the moment, one crew man down. As we neared the Needles we noticed more and more boats heading back to Cowes but ignorance is bliss so on we went. If memory serves me correctly we arrived at the big pointy rocks of doom at about 12:30 and went around the point with ease (I’m redefining “ease” to mean “try to tack around the Needles several times but fail, having to bear away before trying, and succeeding, one more time, all the while watching the cliffs of crushiness getting very, very, very, close”).
From the Needles we ran before the wind in a very gentle ten to fifteen foot swell which., along with swallowing whole yachts, looked pretty impressive as they rolled up behind the Catweasel. It was rather peculiar to look up at waves. Sadly the swell took its toll and Neil was struck down by Mal de Fry-up. I popped my head down below every now and then and I was impressed by how quickly nausea set in and how long it took to recover. I’d estimate a five to one ratio - that’s five minutes below decks took me an hour above decks to recover.
At this point I need to point out that our VHF had been hearing mayday after mayday, the Solant coastguard & RNLI did an amazing job that day and if you know anyone that was on, or will be on a boat, then spare a thought for them and doff cap in a fashion of your choosing.
Anyway - we’d not seen any other yachts for literally hours but the Catweasel ploughed on, our half a reef (don’t ask) performing admirably. The weather, heavily overcast since the get go, was threatening to lighten up and the sky was now (this was about 15:00) a light grey instead of a dark grey. The seas were getting calmer now, the wind was dying down and the two guys below decks were starting to perk up so things were looking up. I’d had a change of clothes so was dry for the first time in hours and cups of tea and coffee were passed around. The exciting stage was over and all the remained was a gentle sail to the finish line.
The sun was shining, the clouds had cleared and a few other racing yachts were in sight and we were closing on the line. Another yacht hailed us and I hailed…OK OK, another yacht shouted at us and I shouted back - we’d missed a race maker and would be protested. A quick check in our hitherto ignored race folder infirmed us that we had to declare protests so a swift call was made and we were told a 2% time penalty would be applied so we relaxed a tad as we were here to complete not to compete.
On we sailed, and finally we had a chance to swap the helm around. Spirits were high all around now as I took the Catweasel across the finish line (in probably one of the worst finishes this year) and we grabbed our swinging mooring and cracked open a beer. We’d completed the RTI. - ahh, of mice and men.
The final number of boats to cross the finish line in Cowes was 1,302 and there were 438 retirements and 16 DSQ (disqualified) and/or OCS (on course side).”
Sure we were disqualified but for all of us on board just taking part was what mattered. I want to say thanks to my brother, to Carlos and to Neil for taking part, thanks to the Island Sailing Club for running the race and thanks to all the other competitors. It was only fifty miles and I’m aiming to do something in excess of thirty thousand over the next year and a bit but I reckon it’s going to remain one of the most memorable fifty.
Current Position of the Catweasel - Portchester (Wicor Marine)
Total Crew Count to date (inc. myself) - 4
Be warned - this is a long one, put the kettle on.
It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been remiss in keeping this blog so, here I am, on the train to Portsmouth Harbour, writing.
I need to wind the clock back about eight days (to the 24th June) to a sunny morning in Basingstoke.
The plan
Meet at the railway station at 09:00, purchase provisions in Sainsbury’s, catch the 10:00 to Portchester, spend an hour getting ready and then sail to Cowes. Stewart and I would spend the day providing some basic training to Carlos and Neil as well as playing with the spinnaker. We’d moor up by 16:00 ish and then head into town for a few beers. The next day, so said the plan, we’d race the RTI, each one taking a 2 hour watch at the helm, in the crew position, at the navigation table and finally a off watch. It was a solid plan. We’d complete the race, triumphant, and celebrate in style in Cowes. Along the way we’d been cheered on by friends (some of whom had flown in from Vienna) and parents (who’d flown down from Scotland).
The reality....
Ahh, of mice and men. We got on the train at Basingstoke and everything went well until someone said “What’s the worst that could happen?“. The train stopped. There was a trackside fire and we couldn’t proceed. An hour we sat there. Arriving at the marina an hour behind schedule (but not really bothered as I’d built in some contingency), I went off to meet the sail maker who was putting race numbers on the spare sail whilst the other three loaded the Catweasel. For reasons best blamed on myself the sail wasn’t ready but not to worry, they said, - it’d be done by about 16:00. So we set off a tad later than hoped for and had lost the training time but no worries - we arrived in Cowes, at our swinging mooring, at roughly 18:00. The Catweasel was ready.
Race day - the 25th June 2011 . With the previous nights beers and kebabs sloshing around in our stomachs we headed off to Eegons for a pre race fry-up. In hindsight, this may have been a mistake. Anyway - back on board we waited on our swinging mooring for our starting gun having decided that being a wuss was better part of sailing (plus we didn’t want to sink anyone or be sunk). With the main pack off we loosed our warp and off we went, some fifteen minutes or so behind the main pack (our start time was 07:40). There were several boats near us so a careful watch was required but we’d made the right move I reckon. Avoiding the main pack reduced our newbie stress levels and we could focus on the sailing. Our only hails were of the jolly type rather than the screams of “starboard!!!”’ which could be heard drifting across the water.
The passage to the Needles was pretty rough and it “did for” Carlos who discovered a whole new way of feeling ill. After he’d fed the fish he went down below for a kip and the Catweasel was, for the moment, one crew man down. As we neared the Needles we noticed more and more boats heading back to Cowes but ignorance is bliss so on we went. If memory serves me correctly we arrived at the big pointy rocks of doom at about 12:30 and went around the point with ease (I’m redefining “ease” to mean “try to tack around the Needles several times but fail, having to bear away before trying, and succeeding, one more time, all the while watching the cliffs of crushiness getting very, very, very, close”).
From the Needles we ran before the wind in a very gentle ten to fifteen foot swell which., along with swallowing whole yachts, looked pretty impressive as they rolled up behind the Catweasel. It was rather peculiar to look up at waves. Sadly the swell took its toll and Neil was struck down by Mal de Fry-up. I popped my head down below every now and then and I was impressed by how quickly nausea set in and how long it took to recover. I’d estimate a five to one ratio - that’s five minutes below decks took me an hour above decks to recover.
At this point I need to point out that our VHF had been hearing mayday after mayday, the Solant coastguard & RNLI did an amazing job that day and if you know anyone that was on, or will be on a boat, then spare a thought for them and doff cap in a fashion of your choosing.
Anyway - we’d not seen any other yachts for literally hours but the Catweasel ploughed on, our half a reef (don’t ask) performing admirably. The weather, heavily overcast since the get go, was threatening to lighten up and the sky was now (this was about 15:00) a light grey instead of a dark grey. The seas were getting calmer now, the wind was dying down and the two guys below decks were starting to perk up so things were looking up. I’d had a change of clothes so was dry for the first time in hours and cups of tea and coffee were passed around. The exciting stage was over and all the remained was a gentle sail to the finish line.
The sun was shining, the clouds had cleared and a few other racing yachts were in sight and we were closing on the line. Another yacht hailed us and I hailed…OK OK, another yacht shouted at us and I shouted back - we’d missed a race maker and would be protested. A quick check in our hitherto ignored race folder infirmed us that we had to declare protests so a swift call was made and we were told a 2% time penalty would be applied so we relaxed a tad as we were here to complete not to compete.
On we sailed, and finally we had a chance to swap the helm around. Spirits were high all around now as I took the Catweasel across the finish line (in probably one of the worst finishes this year) and we grabbed our swinging mooring and cracked open a beer. We’d completed the RTI. - ahh, of mice and men.
The final number of boats to cross the finish line in Cowes was 1,302 and there were 438 retirements and 16 DSQ (disqualified) and/or OCS (on course side).”
Sure we were disqualified but for all of us on board just taking part was what mattered. I want to say thanks to my brother, to Carlos and to Neil for taking part, thanks to the Island Sailing Club for running the race and thanks to all the other competitors. It was only fifty miles and I’m aiming to do something in excess of thirty thousand over the next year and a bit but I reckon it’s going to remain one of the most memorable fifty.
Bluetooth and the blue boat
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| Slipway bound. |
June 30th was liftout day for Catweasel and saw her collected and taken to the slipway. This was an unusual thing to behold as it saw Tim and I being overtaken by the unoccupied yacht whilst in the dinghy. I think it's safe to say this won't be happening often. It was the first time she'd been photographed moving on the water and perhaps a little more dignity for the poor girl would have been nice. On the plus side all went according to schedule. The lift out process at Wicor seems to have been built on many years of experiencing owners saying "Yeah, she'll be ready on the day!" and I suspect they got bored of finding this wasn't the case. This meant we had to strip sails and anchor and blank the log impeller. No idea how that one's meant to work as the only thing I know about log impellers is that they are bellow the waterline. Anyway, only once all this prep is done will they take liftout requests seriously so there was some potential for Tim's schedule to slip but thankfully that didn't happen.
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| Stick that on your ear and talk into it! |
Barely was she at rest then Ian, the local shipwright, was aboard and making busy with the installation of the cockpit drain. Tim and I then set about upsetting the superstitious by taking her old name off and prepping the hull to receive her beautiful "Catweasel" stickers to bows and the left side of her transom and an "of Muasdale" for the right side. Actually there is no "of" part as Tim elected to go for the brand new concept of implicit stickering, which is to say he forgot to order it.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Cap'n's Log - Preparation
My woman and I watch the rugby in Champs last night and then went to Godor and proceeded to get fairly hammered with some very good friends. That's two leaving do's down, one more to go. Fingers crossed my liver survives and I make it to the boat (ps: as I'm writing this I'm watching Long Way Down and dribbling at the thought).
Today is my last day in Hungary, I leave for Vienna first thing tomorrow (and then onwards on Wednesday). My bags are packed....cue John Denver. I've totally loved being here in BP for the last six months. It's such a different city from Vienna, far more my type of town, it's rougher, dirtier, smellier, younger, more vibrant, the music's awesome and easily found. I'd definately come back.
Preparation continues apace. I've ordered a new toy :-) a 70w solar panel, an Imray of the Isle of Wight (for the race). With luck the sail numbers will be ready on Tuesday and we can switch out the "old" sail for the "new" (they're both old though). I'm still umming and erring about a storm jib or a trisail and have yet to order a drogue.
My thoughts turned to visas today so I just had a butchas at the map, just for Africa, I need to check requirements for 22 countries* but it's also focussed the route down a tad more. Before it was "head south to SA and turn left" now it's "UK to Gib to Turkey to Gib to SA to Madagascar to Seychelles to Maldives and turn right".
Anyway, back to Long Way Down and checking visa requirements. Next blog from Vienna.
Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal, Gambia, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Ghana, Togo, Benin (never even heard of that one), Nigeria, Cameroon, Gabon, Congo, the Dem Rep. of Congo, Angola, Nambia, SA, Mozambique, Madagascar.
Today is my last day in Hungary, I leave for Vienna first thing tomorrow (and then onwards on Wednesday). My bags are packed....cue John Denver. I've totally loved being here in BP for the last six months. It's such a different city from Vienna, far more my type of town, it's rougher, dirtier, smellier, younger, more vibrant, the music's awesome and easily found. I'd definately come back.
Preparation continues apace. I've ordered a new toy :-) a 70w solar panel, an Imray of the Isle of Wight (for the race). With luck the sail numbers will be ready on Tuesday and we can switch out the "old" sail for the "new" (they're both old though). I'm still umming and erring about a storm jib or a trisail and have yet to order a drogue.
My thoughts turned to visas today so I just had a butchas at the map, just for Africa, I need to check requirements for 22 countries* but it's also focussed the route down a tad more. Before it was "head south to SA and turn left" now it's "UK to Gib to Turkey to Gib to SA to Madagascar to Seychelles to Maldives and turn right".
Anyway, back to Long Way Down and checking visa requirements. Next blog from Vienna.
Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal, Gambia, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Ghana, Togo, Benin (never even heard of that one), Nigeria, Cameroon, Gabon, Congo, the Dem Rep. of Congo, Angola, Nambia, SA, Mozambique, Madagascar.
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