Petrella: fettling

Two gigs this weekend just gone; a wedding on Friday evening followed by a pub gig in Bristol on Saturday night. In between that, my brother and I managed to fit in a three hour rehearsal in Bristol with our new friend James, who was standing in for our regular drummer at the Saturday venue.

Both gigs were intense, high energy, fantastic fun, with packed out crowds that danced the night through. By the time I got to bed in the (not so anymore) early hours of Sunday morning, I was quite exhausted.

The alarm going off a couple of hours later to get me up at 0600 for the drive down to Brixham wasn't welcome, but a necessary evil, and the trip down, as Dad was good enough to drive, went smoothly enough.

Sunday's forecast promised gusts of up to 35 knots, so it was a day for odd jobs and fettling, of which there is plenty to be done, rather than a chance to take her out for our maiden sail. That, frustratingly, continues to have to wait.

Dad spend the day on his knees in the cockpit, fitting a socket for the shore-power, whereas I spent the day tracing wires, throwing switches and reading through documents and manuals, getting used to all the various systems we now have to deal with. And trying to find an appropriate home for everything we've moved in from our last boat.

On Calstar, it was a simple case of climb aboard, switch on the engine and domestic batteries, open the engine's seacock, turn the key and go. Oh, and maybe open a couple of seacocks for the heads.

With Petrella, we have the same domestic and engine battery switches, but something else called a cross-bank that links or unlinks the two. Two heads, not one, so double the sea cocks. A Webasco diesel heating system that provides both central heating to the cabins and hot water. Plus an electric immersion heater that also provides hot water if you're plugged into shore power, I think; it might work without shore power too? In any case, unaware that it was a thing, I accidentally left it switched on when I left the boat the week before, so the immersion element has been ticking over all week keeping the water hot and ready for our return yesterday.

Plus of course, a myriad of instruments, one of which was clocking 25 knots true at the top of our mast around lunch time (I love seeing the wind in actual numbers, although, of course, it is also something else to go wrong) and two chart plotters, both of which are linked up to our AIS transponder. The larger, coach-roof mounted one was originally unserviceable; it went black on Rebecca and TJ, the previous owners, and TJ was never able to get it functioning again. 

It did however resurrect itself for me the week before, after I spent a couple of hours randomly punching buttons trying to invoke a factory reset, squinting at FAQ's and Raymarine user manuals on my phone and cursing and moaning at the persistently truculent black screen. I was somewhat relieved and pleased to find it popped back up all ready to go again this week at the push of the power button.

We lifted the cockpit floorboards to take home, so Dad can strip and re-varnish them over the week ahead.

It was a productive Sunday. With the cockpit tent up, the boat is an exceptionally sheltered, snug place to spend a blustery autumnal day by the Brixham seaside.

Dad's really struggling with his mobility at the moment. He damaged himself a while back and (I think) didn't give himself time to rest and heal. We've (finally, no easy feat in this day and age) got him to see the docs, and along with the promise of physio, they've taken bloods to make sure there's nothing more sinister going on, for which we're awaiting the results.

We haven't taken Petrella out of her berth yet, and I know she won't really feel like she's all finally ours until we do. Next Sunday, maybe, but only if the weather is kind, and it's all over the place at the moment. I have to admit, the idea does fill me with a certain amount of trepidation. Which is silly; I've handled boats as big as Petrella before. 

Out at sea and under sail the idea doesn't give me the slightest pause, but the close manoeuvring, out and around the marina and other boats does. With Calstar, she was small enough that I could single-hand her in and out of her berth if I needed to, and if something went wrong whilst Dad was at the helm, I could literally use myself as a fender to hand her off from anything she was trying to bump in to.

Petrella is much bigger, of course. And significantly heavier.