tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28869426190179839582024-03-12T04:53:05.438+00:00scapegoats anonymousA journal of my sailing, my dogs, my band. I can promise photos, but not consistency; as far as subject matter goes I'm a bit of a nomad, so can at times drift about the place with seeming abandon.
www.instagram.com/tatali0ntatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.comBlogger1484125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-61698162571292994912024-03-11T12:38:00.003+00:002024-03-11T12:38:47.894+00:00Of chopsticks, power boats and crowded bars<p>So, Saturday morning was the usual hour of karate, followed by lunch in town with Nikki. Nothing fancy, just Wagamama, but it's comfort food and I get a kick out of chasing stray noodles around my bowl of ramen with a pair of chopsticks.</p><p>Then home to change the strings on a couple of guitars and then out to a gig at The Star in Wotton-Under-Edge. We played there last summer, out in their garden as part of their beer and cider festival. I remember there wasn't much room, and a dire need to keep the noise levels down so as to not upset the neighbours. but despite that, it turned into a crowded, lively and energetic gig.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFRyp5ypYswI_ku1mjTb_U9vYW4yQW3gYZNIjjFrwp9uJ6PDG2xAWG96_BWNCPIAPmLKlkQfeyLVWV_qVYzc_6Xdk7H3pYk1ISlM2_KZwTW2HnBQnjO3g7J9wVZegA0jDCuamR_LkgXl8foo6wJ1L7F3v0slcNksREvxt-1IC2Jjuo22MH09nWS_OVrs/s4000/20240309_205842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFRyp5ypYswI_ku1mjTb_U9vYW4yQW3gYZNIjjFrwp9uJ6PDG2xAWG96_BWNCPIAPmLKlkQfeyLVWV_qVYzc_6Xdk7H3pYk1ISlM2_KZwTW2HnBQnjO3g7J9wVZegA0jDCuamR_LkgXl8foo6wJ1L7F3v0slcNksREvxt-1IC2Jjuo22MH09nWS_OVrs/s320/20240309_205842.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />This time around, it being March, we were indoors. A quick search on google tells me that the pub dates back <a href="https://www.gloucestershirepubs.co.uk/pubs/star-inn-market-place-wotton-under-edge/#:~:text=The%20Star%20Inn%20dates%20back,Titanic." target="_blank">to around 1572</a>. It's a deceptively large pub, but with lots of nooks and crannies and corners and walls and interconnected rooms. At first sight, not the most conducive place to set up a four piece band for a gig. The back wall of the area we were playing in was two or three meters away from the front line of our PA, at most.<p></p><p>Despite that, they crowded in and we all had a great night. Really hope to play there again. Although with only a couple of Saturdays still left free in the band's diary for this year, it might have to be next year now.</p><p>It was also a late night; with the band coming off the stage a shade before midnight, an hour to pack up and forty minutes to get home, I didn't get to bed much before 0300.</p><p>And was up and back on the road again for 0900 Sunday morning.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9fZRkRgzwx7gU0tRNTSyEUZ_gqtR-lUOqDcD3MirJfxylVKtmnS_Pf3JWZoHqVhU5Sp1XRBzvOT-P0qnhtmCtSLWcb4cw92VsPSYSR43kh8zklWODeHl1Sn5ao6d9l0CTXzjRn_PDkjkn1jURCODi1TKL1ij1CO7D8vg7hydNxfpm1oLrJpCRBIJgQI/s4000/20240310_105935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9fZRkRgzwx7gU0tRNTSyEUZ_gqtR-lUOqDcD3MirJfxylVKtmnS_Pf3JWZoHqVhU5Sp1XRBzvOT-P0qnhtmCtSLWcb4cw92VsPSYSR43kh8zklWODeHl1Sn5ao6d9l0CTXzjRn_PDkjkn1jURCODi1TKL1ij1CO7D8vg7hydNxfpm1oLrJpCRBIJgQI/s320/20240310_105935.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I haven't spent much time at the sailing club this year. A couple of weeks ago, I put a Sunday aside from my regular trips down to Plymouth to take the Albacore out with Amanda. In the week leading up to that, the club committee collared her, and suggested that as she'd already sailed a race in the Chilli Dogs series, she should take a turn at running one. <p></p><p>Which would've left me without her company and, potentially, without crew for the Albacore. So we agreed a trade. They found somebody else to run the race, Amanda sailed with me, and in return I took a duty this weekend running the Safety Boat.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8IYUw1YFxmUi_-izVShHAG1FZo76zAKCkssPBwF08X8w0s5yI7932u2Ja-gy15pq6qXNRxYW04W8w0ERWbiIAkTsNf7S6NqyJoSXpAkUR0Vw7_bGZ60QF6idqUl5g3DDzEgs_RDX2_dCQutBNYfV_4RhqIKxtQDFz4_t6V2peMz69m9ulkCB1o-fNQeE/s2830/20240310_120454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="2830" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8IYUw1YFxmUi_-izVShHAG1FZo76zAKCkssPBwF08X8w0s5yI7932u2Ja-gy15pq6qXNRxYW04W8w0ERWbiIAkTsNf7S6NqyJoSXpAkUR0Vw7_bGZ60QF6idqUl5g3DDzEgs_RDX2_dCQutBNYfV_4RhqIKxtQDFz4_t6V2peMz69m9ulkCB1o-fNQeE/s320/20240310_120454.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Other than the discomfort of dragging myself out of bed after just a few hours sleep, it was no great hardship. The company was good, the racing, as always, interesting to watch, and the rain held off until after we'd put the boats away and were heading home.<p></p><p>South Cerney have increased the duty commitment of racing members that don't "buy out" of their turns to five duties a year. It feels like a bit of a burden; essentially, I'm down for Safety Boat every Wednesday evening from the beginning of July through to the beginning of August, so if, as is likely, I'm away or otherwise committed through the weekends of those two months, I won't actually get to sail my Laser or our Albacore for over a month through the summer.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPes9euQYy7uJOLOe7c6rNV-Z-9oXCbq-BfsdZCQ0qHB6VvRPwm1FQGYZvY_QBxSbFX_kj-zv1G6EEwyE1pg2X5Yx8g_KILlMZE2W1aTLzgJEddvkvGMeNgnuikhje1PXUKQqHS9Y2SUP0t22KZBb1rOluXFZ2UXLc0ML-yW96Hien1v4WG-Pm-Fe0XWM/s3891/20240310_115825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1817" data-original-width="3891" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPes9euQYy7uJOLOe7c6rNV-Z-9oXCbq-BfsdZCQ0qHB6VvRPwm1FQGYZvY_QBxSbFX_kj-zv1G6EEwyE1pg2X5Yx8g_KILlMZE2W1aTLzgJEddvkvGMeNgnuikhje1PXUKQqHS9Y2SUP0t22KZBb1rOluXFZ2UXLc0ML-yW96Hien1v4WG-Pm-Fe0XWM/s320/20240310_115825.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The club is having trouble filling the duty roster, so I understand why they've done it. But I do wonder how much of an impact allowing members to "buy out" has on that. They also have quite a heavy racing calendar, with regular events on a Wednesday evening, Saturday afternoon and all day on a Sunday through the summer. The Saturdays and Sunday afternoons are not heavy on attendance. It occurs to me that they could lighten the duty roster load by dropping them, with minimal impact.<p></p><p>I shall see how this year goes. If the new boat in Plymouth impacts my weekends as much as I expect she shall, I might look around at the end of the season for another club with less of a duty commitment, that preferably doesn't allow it's more well-heeled members to buy out of the obligation.</p><p>Which would be a shame, because I like South Cerney. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-90480480389301197352024-03-07T11:49:00.003+00:002024-03-07T11:51:01.911+00:00three balls up<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQuI0hcGOvqA-SclpKp-uA9giAIo4ZGtWv1CuyAyk9hnGdQXsB8Lx9khoVKptovw-LvABY1rF1z-6ejsd_Tj1g47y6dDPMCZYJyfLhVRXOi3k5QhVucgeJ-HbOzxy3FNKyY2394ot6yWH7qwKAZoEVv9Oewlr2T-ERZVGDt8MtSDl311MZbOZ8CKmlfA/s3911/20220417_180706.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1760" data-original-width="3911" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQuI0hcGOvqA-SclpKp-uA9giAIo4ZGtWv1CuyAyk9hnGdQXsB8Lx9khoVKptovw-LvABY1rF1z-6ejsd_Tj1g47y6dDPMCZYJyfLhVRXOi3k5QhVucgeJ-HbOzxy3FNKyY2394ot6yWH7qwKAZoEVv9Oewlr2T-ERZVGDt8MtSDl311MZbOZ8CKmlfA/s320/20220417_180706.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Photos started appearing on social media earlier this week of a ship aground on the sands of the Severn Estuary between my old haunt of Lydney Yacht Club and Sharpness.<p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hvzxgvpdCHz28dWrSHXZF1615dJNljId52SfubszjCr_-vZiE-cOr8RlgMT30xQta69wMVOHa161SKJWMseJwV43qhCFK_3dRiMfq_1_Tos71vJYq3Rv4JHgxQ_c4K6CnebApjdEmZ98pPoIaoRGwM9s25JWJtasTOkntagqszgJNvWJzo1ABVTFKT4/s2048/429799582_2402758246576792_2017103397887469395_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hvzxgvpdCHz28dWrSHXZF1615dJNljId52SfubszjCr_-vZiE-cOr8RlgMT30xQta69wMVOHa161SKJWMseJwV43qhCFK_3dRiMfq_1_Tos71vJYq3Rv4JHgxQ_c4K6CnebApjdEmZ98pPoIaoRGwM9s25JWJtasTOkntagqszgJNvWJzo1ABVTFKT4/s320/429799582_2402758246576792_2017103397887469395_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: kris upfold</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>According to local news (Gloucester Live), the EMS Servant, out of Santander in sunny Spain, misjudged her approach to Sharpness Dock on Monday and ended up aground on Saniger Sands. The bank and therefore the channel has, according to local knowledge, shifted recently. As sandbanks in the Bristol Channel are wont to do.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCSjWChoSr_jHwc_Ukb9LpaZru6WW5debtl1xnxYLTyH0rY93xHLffv6x7umLxbdw7bj3LlNGk78OtNtNg0WCZU37ck4jzcxjwrrU4OFC9x4R8AWOadBx7-7U6-ESLTbGRxyzPBWYkpAYzxZFoB2iEtynXGQwH1zzDAREIKXDMeqe6ymSZOsppiFxy5k/s2048/429801410_2402758276576789_4395296156541950345_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCSjWChoSr_jHwc_Ukb9LpaZru6WW5debtl1xnxYLTyH0rY93xHLffv6x7umLxbdw7bj3LlNGk78OtNtNg0WCZU37ck4jzcxjwrrU4OFC9x4R8AWOadBx7-7U6-ESLTbGRxyzPBWYkpAYzxZFoB2iEtynXGQwH1zzDAREIKXDMeqe6ymSZOsppiFxy5k/s320/429801410_2402758276576789_4395296156541950345_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: kris upfold</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It would be inane to suggest the estuary is forgiving, but the sands are soft. Initial attempts to tow the ship off failed, so she sat there, intact and unharmed with the crew remaining aboard until she could refloat. Tuesday was a neap tide, so she was stuck a couple of days, but I read this morning that she's now safely in Sharpness.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjUXHrQgAQOAgJAi4DFfccVLoKc9wqzsc1z4yWrU_IcEsYEgW18XFHy5exHx0bns1PfubGqlY49GQELcJ7HNMpgRoNKeqj0yRtIIkw7oLRfbTpKja2P_w9n8MZYtb9O4Gei3VSinlK6ZH7xMaWUyyGgnDuzpFYwagz_A-ka-FUJyfvlf7gfWz9qA5TBQ/s2048/DSC_0229.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjUXHrQgAQOAgJAi4DFfccVLoKc9wqzsc1z4yWrU_IcEsYEgW18XFHy5exHx0bns1PfubGqlY49GQELcJ7HNMpgRoNKeqj0yRtIIkw7oLRfbTpKja2P_w9n8MZYtb9O4Gei3VSinlK6ZH7xMaWUyyGgnDuzpFYwagz_A-ka-FUJyfvlf7gfWz9qA5TBQ/s320/DSC_0229.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />The cargo ship is 325' long. And there's I worrying about manoeuvring Petrella's 36' of length in and out of her berth.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIep6aMJheOfDp5ssctdUAUm8YoqubhUVk3IFiyVzTFqub6qkfeF4TJ5YjWadmg8tyv9kVXaEA5tn4rPNWaXuE8cxAQBe8Mx9jTg3JnITAQgjQV6s5rhs7Qd_UuuRZDhRXnq1P6-ze54ffci7NpA28I0gkw_sj2W87fd2ibsTTURCUcKj_96ZzBXVWnM8/s3948/20211023_070236.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="3948" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIep6aMJheOfDp5ssctdUAUm8YoqubhUVk3IFiyVzTFqub6qkfeF4TJ5YjWadmg8tyv9kVXaEA5tn4rPNWaXuE8cxAQBe8Mx9jTg3JnITAQgjQV6s5rhs7Qd_UuuRZDhRXnq1P6-ze54ffci7NpA28I0gkw_sj2W87fd2ibsTTURCUcKj_96ZzBXVWnM8/s320/20211023_070236.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I've blatantly lifted the above photos of the ship from a Facebook Group called <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/dursleymatters/permalink/3560383724213252/" target="_blank">Dursley Matters</a> where they were posted by a Kris Upfold. I've not troubled him for permission but hope the credit and link back will suffice, by way of apology. The remaining photos are, of course, my own, from various past visits to Lydney, looking out over the sands where the EMS Servant ran aground.<p></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-11685680309493302462024-03-04T09:59:00.003+00:002024-03-04T09:59:36.391+00:00Petrella: for the simpicity of a bucket<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiY7oaHNFxYYliRybsyZjsPiPVKhZ4lMrkGTrAlz0e_L6KGLHO2D7_zEqsJZ-LzSIMOptGSV6R2GbfNRMVjApU9LJDg0F_aMtljHk-sWf6INm5agq93AaGDi8y8GkrLiIAOPlwxV_sk3wvGZL_tYO2l4Ev3VAyAdj4fyYPN0x9WNwN-8GP0mhI2Gk9N48Y" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="2023" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiY7oaHNFxYYliRybsyZjsPiPVKhZ4lMrkGTrAlz0e_L6KGLHO2D7_zEqsJZ-LzSIMOptGSV6R2GbfNRMVjApU9LJDg0F_aMtljHk-sWf6INm5agq93AaGDi8y8GkrLiIAOPlwxV_sk3wvGZL_tYO2l4Ev3VAyAdj4fyYPN0x9WNwN-8GP0mhI2Gk9N48Y" width="320" /></a></div><br />Weather looked lovely for Sunday morning. After a bleary start but an easy drive, Dad and I made it to Plymouth for 0930 to find blue skies and a dead calm, but a promise of wind (and showers) later. There had clearly been some weather across the last couple of weeks though, as the snubber on the stern line had failed. QAB is hard on snubbers.<div><br /></div><div>The original hope had been for a couple of hours sailing in the Sound, but on getting to the boat, we quickly noticed we had a problem with the forward heads. It's a standard Jabsco, a marine toilet with a very basic hand pump that sucks water into the bowl and then, at the throw of a switch, reverses and flushes the contents out.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, it was pumping out, but failing to pump in.</div><div><br /></div><div>So the promise of a couple of hours sailing turned into a morning, and then an afternoon, of servicing the heads. Without much success. Amusingly, what we first thought to be a hairline crack and therefore likely cause of our pumping woes, turned out to be a stray dog hair.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOjMDlqfJTF1EOnvwHmwhi4ercJXZC-Di8y7h7xOctDi5UD3SfVIEiB_H-IcaGsLwiPWA8J-kyCT8LF4Zs_hi5P1WOuWBzzqZBoNKNr6Jgi6hDYRRpzfWbus6RACNNuCj_3YKglZCGsh09gsSj1n45rr8IGurIV-ichk-ex2OcKkxZg0Hm3jZqZI5x7Jo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="2023" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOjMDlqfJTF1EOnvwHmwhi4ercJXZC-Di8y7h7xOctDi5UD3SfVIEiB_H-IcaGsLwiPWA8J-kyCT8LF4Zs_hi5P1WOuWBzzqZBoNKNr6Jgi6hDYRRpzfWbus6RACNNuCj_3YKglZCGsh09gsSj1n45rr8IGurIV-ichk-ex2OcKkxZg0Hm3jZqZI5x7Jo" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We had a service pack, with requisite o-rings and replacement valves amongst the ships spares, and Dad, armed with a screwdriver, attacked the project with the requisite enthusiasm. Being an engineer's son, I'm not allowed to drive the screwdriver unless he's not about, or the job requires work at heights, or, in extremes, access to particularly cramped spaces involving an unseemly degree of flexibility, contortion and acrobatics. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Otherwise, it's Dad domain and my role is reduced to occasionally handing him said screwdriver, holding a torch, or working out where he put the spanner he was using.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'd like to say the operation was a success. But valves and o-rings duly replaced, the pump unit spewed water out of all its seams, anywhere in fact, except into the bowl. A disassemble and reassemble and a short while later, the same result. And so went the morning into the afternoon.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the end of the day, we were back to where we'd started, albeit with new valves and o-rings. We did, briefly, clear what appeared to be an airlock in the intake and have water pumping in, only for the seal on the pump to fail again, and for it to spray everywhere but where it was supposed to go.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, after leaving it briefly to stand, the intake failed again. So we're left with a forward heads that can pump out but can't pump in. Which is vexing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh for the simplicity of a bucket. Which is what we might be reduced to if we can't find somebody to fix it before we're away to Fowey for the weekend in a couple of weeks time.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjadG-LSf5H0JKthvJAxz6SfRGxrsC0vCixRjQiWl2Yhmeo_rmlUU0fyD1khJXX8NKpJU_kZ2hdz2XOp97ZBLnR61ny4Obl35MsPb_xCHbyedvr17Ke8uVUFmogduPA01zAevtLFc4242_6Z-Woof7Opql_xyg7-3MH59YgmHeGVrtMZd_ikIb-fJOczx8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="2023" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjadG-LSf5H0JKthvJAxz6SfRGxrsC0vCixRjQiWl2Yhmeo_rmlUU0fyD1khJXX8NKpJU_kZ2hdz2XOp97ZBLnR61ny4Obl35MsPb_xCHbyedvr17Ke8uVUFmogduPA01zAevtLFc4242_6Z-Woof7Opql_xyg7-3MH59YgmHeGVrtMZd_ikIb-fJOczx8" width="320" /></a></div><br />In other news, I did use the time between handing Dad his screwdriver and looking for his spanner, when I wasn't needed to hold the torch, working on an arrangement for our stern spring. It's an idea I've stolen from an older gentleman in Brixham, after watching him take his lovely 36' Hallberg-Rassy out and then later bring her back in single-handed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anti-chaffing hose to make a fixed loop at the working end, a length of pipe to provide some rigidity to the affair, then a bowline mid way along the length. The idea being that, on coming back in, I can easily and quickly drop the working end over the pontoon cleat, then the mid-length bowline over our mid ships cleat, which will let me hold the boat to the pontoon by motoring ahead against it whilst we secure the remaining lines.</div>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-6626893717334789632024-02-26T10:55:00.000+00:002024-02-26T10:55:16.665+00:00happily inconsequential<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVXr-9WeBb84JBZYlGPN9KmHJqPkNFwDrneSQgUk50JjRFIEhcibmGrMNSMIA7mijWS3S9A1m6kA3cGtO012xsCv8SEX5Nh_xCpMutUPGHV3uAE9jUcY1abBx7-00SDpGyDW2-FarwzRKtudA5NxPRfh-LN_S9GnDN3Kl3hdU-duL823TyZ_HW859WQ4/s3944/20240222_165512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1842" data-original-width="3944" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVXr-9WeBb84JBZYlGPN9KmHJqPkNFwDrneSQgUk50JjRFIEhcibmGrMNSMIA7mijWS3S9A1m6kA3cGtO012xsCv8SEX5Nh_xCpMutUPGHV3uAE9jUcY1abBx7-00SDpGyDW2-FarwzRKtudA5NxPRfh-LN_S9GnDN3Kl3hdU-duL823TyZ_HW859WQ4/s320/20240222_165512.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />A good weekend. Took Lottie out for a walk around the park as usual after work Friday but with no other plans for the evening, had a lazy night. Saturday morning had the usual hour of karate, didn't hurt anybody, didn't get hurt. Saturday afternoon took Nik and Lottie out to lunch at one of our favourite pubs.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcp0WGSjlSFetUu-AB0rSeakDdYV06MG6D1KPnV_Vq7sCXfJqzMKtSHsxbsmlCdubXQdD8CcOPXlo073hvleBQrHMwIxoV9eiRZyeS8wWEAJzm2djlzoDtpD0On5aZu-g0FXy775TYFj6OwtK17Lx1OGKO-3TyBTIsb1XoMzV8JAq6xjKQ_g8Z99XL-c/s4000/20240224_193209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcp0WGSjlSFetUu-AB0rSeakDdYV06MG6D1KPnV_Vq7sCXfJqzMKtSHsxbsmlCdubXQdD8CcOPXlo073hvleBQrHMwIxoV9eiRZyeS8wWEAJzm2djlzoDtpD0On5aZu-g0FXy775TYFj6OwtK17Lx1OGKO-3TyBTIsb1XoMzV8JAq6xjKQ_g8Z99XL-c/s320/20240224_193209.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Saturday evening had a gig, our third of the year and what actually felt like our first in a while. 50th birthday party, went down a storm with an absolutely lovely, mad crowd. Funny how we seem to have grown into our demographic. Only took thirty years.</p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo4eprvixi-eynG4S7HQ3trWzXh7uY6MEv2wjVdf3Ziw5pJgKm3FKYyT-T_ox2YgKwS-g7sht3Ne8fzjrDfZ2s6CHR08tx-cyl1ohPom15PYPXCttik0At6a9MZ1UF8qwyvCBUzqHQ9uvRmrWh8CtyTrVvChjjG7WfQRo0XafUwc1y_EFtzVGG8BBRZI/s2048/425312282_10228097306310567_5092513920971101486_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo4eprvixi-eynG4S7HQ3trWzXh7uY6MEv2wjVdf3Ziw5pJgKm3FKYyT-T_ox2YgKwS-g7sht3Ne8fzjrDfZ2s6CHR08tx-cyl1ohPom15PYPXCttik0At6a9MZ1UF8qwyvCBUzqHQ9uvRmrWh8CtyTrVvChjjG7WfQRo0XafUwc1y_EFtzVGG8BBRZI/s320/425312282_10228097306310567_5092513920971101486_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />During training earlier that morning, I distinctly remember thinking whilst warming up with the usual stretches how lovely it was that nothing currently hurt. Back good, shoulders good, knees good, elbows good, ankles good, hips good. These days it feels like a happy bonus to get all six in a row.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6QmTVNRhM_i28OeRD6GzOLfkWSpthTvzxvupvPa4kT0OGfLkHxbiJP8C7XVoap25y4jOoVH2eCxCP8clMMr5KGeUBZP3ICeNo-WmTey9QOFla89zSrvk7VjiUnAAh00P70ZCoZPDQK21AJIeIvMsJW0gY6M6MU1-S7uIPshovjhuP5crN1-ITwZO_lEo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="706" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6QmTVNRhM_i28OeRD6GzOLfkWSpthTvzxvupvPa4kT0OGfLkHxbiJP8C7XVoap25y4jOoVH2eCxCP8clMMr5KGeUBZP3ICeNo-WmTey9QOFla89zSrvk7VjiUnAAh00P70ZCoZPDQK21AJIeIvMsJW0gY6M6MU1-S7uIPshovjhuP5crN1-ITwZO_lEo" width="320" /></a></div><br />About half an hour before we were about to go on Saturday evening, my lower back began to hurt. It got progressively worse through the evening. Nothing crippling, just slowing and annoyingly inconvenient. The band were very kind in looking after me and carrying out all the heavy stuff at the end of the evening.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdZjl_eMdjAA86bUgN4FFwSwVZAUS0elVEx5JTUaBhJ8XAFvjiXuqmncj17F7-z852v2LUYTVfrAdopHdHH7qo2uVy8MexMTF9wW_yjDwIe_gJWk4atQRd9Z_j6zqGNaJIjsHU05kUDtg6lmzZF323zCj2dzSZNcMJNVl1dH1oLDJpzZ1MtZy4Pvyq-A/s4000/20240222_165505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdZjl_eMdjAA86bUgN4FFwSwVZAUS0elVEx5JTUaBhJ8XAFvjiXuqmncj17F7-z852v2LUYTVfrAdopHdHH7qo2uVy8MexMTF9wW_yjDwIe_gJWk4atQRd9Z_j6zqGNaJIjsHU05kUDtg6lmzZF323zCj2dzSZNcMJNVl1dH1oLDJpzZ1MtZy4Pvyq-A/s320/20240222_165505.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Sunday morning I got up early and headed to the lake to meet Amanda. We cracked ice off the covers and rigged the Albacore to race. A fleet of ten boats, two races, we sailed a total of 7.5nm around the cans over the next couple of hours.</p><p>First race, a pursuit, was a bit grim. We finished an ignominious second from last. The wind was a fresh 10 knots from the south east, building across the course of the race. By the start of the second race, a general handicap, it was blowing 13 knots with some tasty gusts blowing through; we clocked our highest speed at 9.8 knots.</p><p>The wind direction forced a reaching start, with the wind blowing down the start line, as at this time of year all the racing is run from the committee hut ashore. With the sacrifice of fine control and the inevitable confusion over rights, such always makes for some amusement. </p><p>We intentionally started at the leeward end of the line, clear of everybody else, relying on our faster boat speed to push out and past the rest of the fleet, who were bunched up on each other to the windward end of the line. It paid off, and we made it first to the windward mark, just on the inside of the single Solo that had managed to keep us company, the rest of the fleet coming up on the mark rounding in a single, chaotic lump.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUstjVwcWTPG_83Mi6mjY6HppyOZc7Rh8jglLqkTtEzx1A6PqGimMWhv_6vL74yQ3ZomivvZM-hCIJpRyk4TwxC_9RjpxIz9XFr9iJsPYJWROO1Tp7fmWqkVyVTUXtNeO0MUivhr2jOmcf_Phg7F9x5Jk4vBnVHn5mWUzqISHEQlzRUnk79vf2fWKITB0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="908" data-original-width="1919" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUstjVwcWTPG_83Mi6mjY6HppyOZc7Rh8jglLqkTtEzx1A6PqGimMWhv_6vL74yQ3ZomivvZM-hCIJpRyk4TwxC_9RjpxIz9XFr9iJsPYJWROO1Tp7fmWqkVyVTUXtNeO0MUivhr2jOmcf_Phg7F9x5Jk4vBnVHn5mWUzqISHEQlzRUnk79vf2fWKITB0" width="320" /></a></div><br />The good start paid dividend, and we redeemed the disgrace of our first race result with a clear win in the second. <p></p><p>The sailing done, and my back loosening up nicely, I headed home to pick up a guitar and then out to Cheltenham with Dad and Nikki for an open mic at the Cotswold. Caught up with some friends I hadn't seen in a while, played a few songs with a few friends, new and old. Drank a few too many beers and generally had a lovely evening. </p><p>It was an early start, so a relatively early finish to the evening, so Nik and I were home again in time to order a Chinese for supper, and finished the day with me unintentionally falling asleep in my chair watching Spooks.</p><p>So, all in all, a happy sequence of inconsequential events; a good weekend.</p><p><br /></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-8345054912358658822024-02-21T15:06:00.001+00:002024-02-21T15:06:35.662+00:00a quality of light<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmSIobCXYu03-KLsLa3CA66msPYXhBXHJl7oYN0yGBWPykrFSu-thE70AZxGCr7nqEWsZGkkuBfwSK8F0nNZJur1JJaQN66UoFxEyNujEouabEba3e1oDA8Ll7CWLlrUyTQsVYdGAjN0kUt_E92fjAw8AXaHcho1gQx_scrd1IAJKlOHMIEH0b1x-EhMw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="2023" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmSIobCXYu03-KLsLa3CA66msPYXhBXHJl7oYN0yGBWPykrFSu-thE70AZxGCr7nqEWsZGkkuBfwSK8F0nNZJur1JJaQN66UoFxEyNujEouabEba3e1oDA8Ll7CWLlrUyTQsVYdGAjN0kUt_E92fjAw8AXaHcho1gQx_scrd1IAJKlOHMIEH0b1x-EhMw" width="320" /></a></div><br />One of the (dubious) advantages of the short days around this time of the year is that by the time I finish work and get a chance to take Lottie over the park, it's dusk. One of my favourite times of the day at any time of the year, for the quality of the light, and every once in a while we're graced by a pretty sunset. <p></p><p>Such as was the other evening.</p><p>Went down to Plymouth after work on Friday evening to spend the night aboard Petrella with Nikki and Lottie. Couldn't really sail anywhere as had to be at Heathrow for 0700 Sunday morning to pick up my brother from the airport. £12.50 to take my car into the London low emissions zone, that has crept out now to include the airport. £5.00 to the airport for the privilege of driving into their drop-off zone to grab my brother from where he was waiting on the pavement outside the terminal.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLOjnGr6LGqpmJPNCISpVz5uVs2-937ISCOPReZOQQichvsuqKn5W6KYGaIxYC76FULTNhvrMz4Oz8MS3J8BVGRPSByM9v-iOL4ahkiQnmJKNoW_v4ayZAWMELIWc-w7YFPewCyGUWW1gJUQ2rYYWB6Tp70Jls2LwKGuhyLhyrjzVG7IsfbKRviY6Gjbo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="2023" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLOjnGr6LGqpmJPNCISpVz5uVs2-937ISCOPReZOQQichvsuqKn5W6KYGaIxYC76FULTNhvrMz4Oz8MS3J8BVGRPSByM9v-iOL4ahkiQnmJKNoW_v4ayZAWMELIWc-w7YFPewCyGUWW1gJUQ2rYYWB6Tp70Jls2LwKGuhyLhyrjzVG7IsfbKRviY6Gjbo" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>It's nice to have Jamie back, and I owe him more than one airport run, but forgive me if I feel a little robbed. Both of these tolls had to be paid online as well, so as well as robbed, inconvenienced, by having to track down the appropriate sites online where I could pay the relevant levies and having to remember to do it.</p><p>Our first gig in what feels like an age is next Saturday. Racing at on the lake with Amanda Sunday, which will be a nice change as I haven't made it to the sailing club since early December. Two gigs the following Friday and Saturday, and then I plan to head down to Plymouth again on the Sunday to check on Petrella. Whether that will be a chance to sail, or just more odd jobs and maintenance, I don't know.</p><p>Our next planned trip is, hopefully, an overnight out and back to Fowey in mid-March, the weekend following Cheltenham Race Week.</p><p>Conscious I've been relying on friends to assist on all the occasions I've so far taken her out, and friends are always welcome, but really I think we need get over that and Dad and I take her out ourselves at some point. It won't get easier unless we actually do it.</p><p>This last weekend <a href="https://self-portraitinthepresentseajournal.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">a friend wrote</a>: </p><p><i>To life. </i></p><p><i>And pushing as hard as you can as long as you can and being grateful for whatever moments of peace you find.</i></p><p>A sentiment I adore, so I'm quoting it here for no other reason than that. Thank you, Webb.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-39918474330276961522024-02-12T09:29:00.000+00:002024-02-12T09:29:03.525+00:00bubbles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSXevOxLtbtUrxvQCSYhM26YsEsFrt2vfcSIFn-zKlUz2B9HajU7YrOYJd2Q9QcRIQ4Mm3dZjrXzLrN0N-pRA3u22Zs6Lzy3CjlZEyO3Ow4HO77eSTQV8VkEuiEcDInuVaECs8YPc40fGwG1IDmk03EPWOiMByRLzZHWDtmRJOwAe9oHYFVTPGRSRAR04" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1134" data-original-width="2016" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSXevOxLtbtUrxvQCSYhM26YsEsFrt2vfcSIFn-zKlUz2B9HajU7YrOYJd2Q9QcRIQ4Mm3dZjrXzLrN0N-pRA3u22Zs6Lzy3CjlZEyO3Ow4HO77eSTQV8VkEuiEcDInuVaECs8YPc40fGwG1IDmk03EPWOiMByRLzZHWDtmRJOwAe9oHYFVTPGRSRAR04" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun Saturday. <div><br /></div><div>If I resented the weekend's commitments interfering with my ambitions to go sailing, I was able to salve said resentment by shooting the kids with a bow and very padded arrows in a game they called "dodge-ball archery", and barging them off their feet whilst wearing an inflatable rubber sphere in a game apparently called "bubble football".<div><br /></div><div>I've never been very good at football, but of (semi) contact sport I have had some small experience over the last decade or two. And in bubble football, it seems the trick is very definitely to play the man, and not the ball.</div><div><br /></div><div>I even scored a goal.</div></div>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-57929832311944117522024-02-08T15:40:00.001+00:002024-02-08T15:40:40.776+00:00ebb tide<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhBcoaxZ8ukIF_A5R9HSeiMrCZ3vme6yGn1zY4p1CxGH-OyWrrwHYKSZzm4qoa7nA2racsvPYT0KLyylEL12czSDsTtVs9rQgIvDiVoNz6khXVw-ZUAa8Mlz5iG7Y9KXxnag6E89Q22NWZZdgKFlvD8X6_znWUgxR0wKGTrCYiPYpYpobcHGtk-ZpMD_6A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="1440" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhBcoaxZ8ukIF_A5R9HSeiMrCZ3vme6yGn1zY4p1CxGH-OyWrrwHYKSZzm4qoa7nA2racsvPYT0KLyylEL12czSDsTtVs9rQgIvDiVoNz6khXVw-ZUAa8Mlz5iG7Y9KXxnag6E89Q22NWZZdgKFlvD8X6_znWUgxR0wKGTrCYiPYpYpobcHGtk-ZpMD_6A" width="320" /></a></div><br />I had planned to sail weekend of the 16th. I can't this coming weekend due to family commitments; eldest boy is getting married end of March and what used to be a stag night for him or a hen night for her is now an entire damned weekend. Entitled yoof, is all I have to say to that.<p></p><p>But I am expected to attend. In Ben's defence, his stag (it can, for reasons above, no longer be accurately called a stag night these days) is only the Saturday, albeit the whole day and night that follows. However, I still need to provide transport for my wife and daughter to wherever the bride-to-be is having her hen. A barn in Chew Magna somewhere apparently. For the whole weekend.</p><p>So no sailing for me this weekend. If I sound bitter, I'm not really. The kids are only going to get married the once. Or so we hope, anyway. And Ben being Ben, they've been mostly self contained about it, so it's had minimal impact on me so far.</p><p>So I had thought to take the following weekend out with the boat. Head over to Fowey and back for the weekend, weather permitting. I've missed Fowey.</p><p>However, my brother's recent holiday to visit his wife's family in Indonesia was unexpectedly extended, as poor Arya's mum was taken very poorly whilst they were out there, and remains so. So Jamie arrives home on the morning of Sunday 18th, and will need somebody to pick him up from the airport. Dad wants to do it, but wants some help with the driving.</p><p>So no sailing away to Cornwall for me that weekend, either.</p><p>If I sound bitter, I'm really, really not. Transport to and from airports is something that's more than in the gift of a brother to ask and expect, and he'd do it, and has done it, for me in a shot. I'll be glad to have him home, and really feel for his wife Arya, her poor mum and all their extended family. I'm not sure if Arya's coming back with him on the 18th or not.</p><p>So it's a small thing set against the greater trials of life and pressures of family.</p><p>But I am really missing the sea. I want to sail, but it feels at the moment like every chance to do so is vexed.</p><p><br /></p><p>Lottie and I went for a walk on Brean Sands last weekend. We did see the sea, but only in brief. The tide was on the ebb, and in the Bristol Channel, that makes for a fast retreat.</p><p></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-29994234147938938702024-01-18T10:37:00.001+00:002024-01-18T10:37:44.766+00:00Yopparai Kyabetsu<div><a class="yt-simple-endpoint style-scope yt-formatted-string" dir="auto" href="https://www.youtube.com/@yoppykyabetsu" spellcheck="false" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; display: block; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-right: -0.1em; overflow-wrap: var(--yt-endpoint-word-wrap,none); overflow: hidden; padding-right: 0.1em; text-decoration: var(--yt-endpoint-text-decoration,none); text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: pre; word-break: var(--yt-endpoint-word-break,none);"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a class="yt-simple-endpoint style-scope yt-formatted-string" dir="auto" href="https://www.youtube.com/@yoppykyabetsu" spellcheck="false" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; display: block; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-right: -0.1em; overflow-wrap: var(--yt-endpoint-word-wrap,none); overflow: hidden; padding-right: 0.1em; text-decoration: var(--yt-endpoint-text-decoration,none); text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: pre; word-break: var(--yt-endpoint-word-break,none);"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk8vYodqWWI-xJ-xBgz7dM4Rr50QJHoGFhpS4cX7tTZ88HXbBfn7JmGKVC4KYFX2qbMNufEMCXnA910DEiVyNdjj5AAHwKJwMeKBiy0TX4zUb-5p3tkvCxGEbWXmb87_GstAOFYcd9gvchx7atzfhazZpTE5x82D8zbGhad-7OkItsDZWH-7QYXsw_-yY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1648" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk8vYodqWWI-xJ-xBgz7dM4Rr50QJHoGFhpS4cX7tTZ88HXbBfn7JmGKVC4KYFX2qbMNufEMCXnA910DEiVyNdjj5AAHwKJwMeKBiy0TX4zUb-5p3tkvCxGEbWXmb87_GstAOFYcd9gvchx7atzfhazZpTE5x82D8zbGhad-7OkItsDZWH-7QYXsw_-yY" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I read the sad news last night that a friend of mine, <a class="yt-simple-endpoint style-scope yt-formatted-string" dir="auto" href="https://www.youtube.com/@yoppykyabetsu" spellcheck="false" style="cursor: pointer; display: inline; margin-right: -0.1em; overflow-wrap: var(--yt-endpoint-word-wrap,none); overflow: hidden; padding-right: 0.1em; text-decoration: var(--yt-endpoint-text-decoration,none); text-overflow: ellipsis; word-break: var(--yt-endpoint-word-break,none);">Yopparai Kyabetsu</a>, passed away early Monday morning. I first met Yopp (aka. Mitch Vire) in the late 90's through a game we both played online, but the friendship long outlasted and outgrew our involvement with that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yopp was one of life's eccentrics; a joker and a clown, with a boundless imagination and a compassionate heart big enough to embrace life and everything and everyone with it. Multi-talented, he was a singer and a songwriter, a storyteller and musician, a unicyclist, a walker and a kayaker, a mechanic, a carpenter, a blacksmith and a bus driver. He had an infectious enthusiasm and an insatiable curiosity. He was also a mean hand with a pair of knitting needles and a ball of wool. </div><div><br /></div><div>And a ukulele. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like a number of folks I consider my good friends, I've never met Yopp in person. Separate continents separated by an ocean, we met online and remained friends online. He was a friend and an inspiration, one of life's bigger characters, and I shall miss him.</div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/dC_l2DOs5n8?si=--9lFoZ7SLPsPVRc" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/dC_l2DOs5n8/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe></div>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-66633146292561768552024-01-17T15:12:00.003+00:002024-01-17T18:16:25.140+00:00Petrella: Brixham to Plymouth<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMSIaEQXqDUlVb3m-FmiVZjHR7-Fa1-DugjZ4FyWL72pAUR5_Vu7xZWdwca5pOFv20yijv0Ie88tUqnnwERUu8uBVFlGFqxh9fPI0t1-UhKBEcei7ccqaWv_2hz4VyXv3LKOxKkzIl5xoqK3rQOcwg9p1OSD8n5yo_gd1ef6Ww9fMA9NuTRSRP2mZMFk/s4000/20240113_071137.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMSIaEQXqDUlVb3m-FmiVZjHR7-Fa1-DugjZ4FyWL72pAUR5_Vu7xZWdwca5pOFv20yijv0Ie88tUqnnwERUu8uBVFlGFqxh9fPI0t1-UhKBEcei7ccqaWv_2hz4VyXv3LKOxKkzIl5xoqK3rQOcwg9p1OSD8n5yo_gd1ef6Ww9fMA9NuTRSRP2mZMFk/s320/20240113_071137.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I ditched out of work early Friday afternoon, met up with Dad at his and we drove down in our separate vehicles to Queen Anne’s Battery in Plymouth, where we left his car and drove on together in mine back to Brixham. The roads were not quiet and the detour to leave a car in Plymouth added an extra hour to our journey, but on account of my skipping the last office hours of the day to make an early start, we still made it to Brixham in time to have a last meal and a beer at <a href="https://theprincewilliam.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Prince William</a>. <p></p><p>Back on the boat, I helped Dad retrieve our pontoon fenders and stored them in the rope locker. After a bit of trial and error I then manged to plot and save a course for Plymouth on the Raymarine installed at the helm. Then I took the cockpit tent down and stowed it in the a locker in the aft cabin to give us one less thing to worry about in the morning.</p><p>Despite having the course set up on the plotter in the cockpit, before turning in for the night I then set the same up on the plotter app I’ve always used on my tablet. I’m always more comfortable with as much redundancy as possible when trying anything new.</p><p>Although, to be fair, we could easily find our way to Plymouth from Brixham without any of this gadgetry; just head out of Torbay, turn right at Berry Head and don’t hit Start Point.</p><p>HW Plymouth was 0658 with 5.6m of water; a new moon and a tidal range of 4.6m between low water and high was slight by Bristol Channel standards, but it was still a spring tide. One that would see a couple of knots of tidal stream flowing past Start Point at its peak and the potential of overfalls, despite the relatively calm day anticipated ahead. </p><p>In this part of the English Channel, the tide turns fair for the west three hours after HW Plymouth, so slack water off Start Point would be around 1100. The wind was forecast for about 8 knots ENE, which would put it dead astern until we rounded Salcombe. </p><p>There was a distinct chill in the air the following morning at 0600 when I reluctantly emerged from my bunk in the dark. Up top, the temperature was hovering around freezing and there was still enough of a breeze left to rattle the rigging, but the swell that had been pushing into the marina overnight and had rocked me gently to sleep had eased. </p><p>The gusty tail of the weather that had blown through the night before was still lingering. I checked my phone and found a message from our friend Dan confirming he was on his way to meet us, so made a cup of tea and set about shortening our lines ready for an 0800 departure.</p><p>The sky was beginning to brighten to a dull gloaming by the time Dan joined us a little after 0700. Dad and Dan disconnected and stowed the shore-power. I checked the oil in the engine, switched the battery on, opened the seacock and started the engine. It purred like a contented kitten as I talked the other two through our plans to slip our berth. </p><p>We were moored bows in, starboard against our finger pontoon, with our neighbour against his own berth to our port, a couple of foot clearance between us. The wind was blowing gently in over our starboard bow, pushing us off our berth and towards him. </p><p>Letting the boat rest in the wind on her bow line, I set the stern spring up to slip, the line and cleat more or less within easy reach of the helm, and then motored dead slow against it whist I retrieved the stern line and Dan set the bow line to slip. Dad was assigned to the port side with a loose fender to minimise any embarrassment if I screwed up and let us drift onto our neighbour. My intention was to reverse out and turn with the prop-walk to port, reversing down the aisle towards the marina entrance and the relatively open water of the harbour outside.</p><p>The wind put paid to my best laid plans and intentions. I put the engine astern to hold her against the bow line, slipped my stern spring, and then put the engine into neutral and gave Dan the instruction to slip the bow. The breeze was ever so slight, but still enough to take command of the bow, pushing our nose menacingly towards our neighbour. </p><p>A quick surge astern on the throttle gave me rudder authority and a cautious hand on the wheel kept us clear by what to me felt like mere inches but was probably ample room as Dad stood by with the fender. We came out of our berth turning to starboard, despite my original intention. A bit more rudder as the bow cleared and she continued to turn nicely, until the boats on the row across from us encroached.</p><p>A quick blast ahead arrested our movement astern and pushed us forward as our momentum kept the boat turning despite the counter rudder. Room opened up aft for me to resume our turn astern to starboard, and then now clear on the bow, I pushed the gear ahead again. As the momentum of the turn began to fade and the rudder begin to bite, I put the helm over to clear our erstwhile neighbour and motored out ahead, the whole thing looking as if it had been planned.</p><p>The close manoeuvring under power is certainly getting easier with practice, but it’s still not without its stress. And as we left the marina entrance, I could feel the slight trembling of adrenalin in my hand on the helm. She’s a big (albeit beautiful) lump of fibreglass with a lot of weight behind her. She’s surprisingly docile under power, but she’s still going to take a fair bit of getting used to.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><b>Saturday 13th : Brixham to Plymouth</b><br />(40.5 nautical miles, 7 hours 2 minutes underway)</i></p><p>0807 Cast off Brixham</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PxnWq1SwHaX4UJHNxh-KSM213DZSDrKQNy_5Xq-fgQ-yKPByZbk1ivap-SPdFrpr1BJdLT3ngwXAaelpYhhgvSqR-v06XBoI1CVlFua9BKXoF2x0gXrO0WiU9pov7dqDgevypB9doEkBIZxeCqA_6e8Z1HTo_yOA6_5vseQcEtEsXId9BUaEo_Ny3xE/s4000/20240113_081258.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PxnWq1SwHaX4UJHNxh-KSM213DZSDrKQNy_5Xq-fgQ-yKPByZbk1ivap-SPdFrpr1BJdLT3ngwXAaelpYhhgvSqR-v06XBoI1CVlFua9BKXoF2x0gXrO0WiU9pov7dqDgevypB9doEkBIZxeCqA_6e8Z1HTo_yOA6_5vseQcEtEsXId9BUaEo_Ny3xE/s320/20240113_081258.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The seas are still confused outside the harbour breakwater from the weather than blew through the previous night. Petrella is a comfortable boat though. I keep the helm, slowing a little before leaving the shelter of the breakwater to give Dan, with Dad’s help, time to finish clearing the fenders and shore lines away. It feels a little strange. For years aboard Calstar Dad has always taken the helm whilst we’re under power and I’ve done the running around getting everything tidy.<p></p><p>0830 Round Berry Head, engine on, motor-sailing under full genoa, wind light and dead astern</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxICR5sW2FvMUIu4L3_fEUQOrUGlHyUzrK_p0zeRpcI1sjOkSrEpuqwv8qgMdTXQO1n2-76NCCy2TmWn2JxOIBi5-C4xvnYsstTXEbDQ74LhmMdl_NTbXudhV9CzhPUzRAN8SqVCwuqokOZaKp_m6dGS8EsZBxrRLuUW47JYO4wKJrfGIXX9gI8yBcr-U/s3944/20240113_082850.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1842" data-original-width="3944" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxICR5sW2FvMUIu4L3_fEUQOrUGlHyUzrK_p0zeRpcI1sjOkSrEpuqwv8qgMdTXQO1n2-76NCCy2TmWn2JxOIBi5-C4xvnYsstTXEbDQ74LhmMdl_NTbXudhV9CzhPUzRAN8SqVCwuqokOZaKp_m6dGS8EsZBxrRLuUW47JYO4wKJrfGIXX9gI8yBcr-U/s320/20240113_082850.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The occasional splash of water comes over the bow to wet the decks, the seas bouncy enough to be entertaining. The dawn was just a chill easing of the gloaming, with no hint of the bloody glory over the horizon that graced us the last time we came this way around the same relative hour to the sunrise. That would've been with Calstar in August 2018. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgww0R86IO64N71MQj3L2eZq9IkZv1G-H10Mx7jK7xgDsKmE2e3omzEgh75KY-s5_cat863QRVO1ejiPJlfzdbopkHJlRSkMp_IYciWJ3aAmb16S1Z3b57LdVvL_eXEVSIXRadFDcAGrfWRM-PQcgCxCVuG0AosMGiZxPJeVC6RmDDwbG3w9pphaO0Mds4/s4000/20240113_083951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgww0R86IO64N71MQj3L2eZq9IkZv1G-H10Mx7jK7xgDsKmE2e3omzEgh75KY-s5_cat863QRVO1ejiPJlfzdbopkHJlRSkMp_IYciWJ3aAmb16S1Z3b57LdVvL_eXEVSIXRadFDcAGrfWRM-PQcgCxCVuG0AosMGiZxPJeVC6RmDDwbG3w9pphaO0Mds4/s320/20240113_083951.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />But it’s not raining, and visibility is good, so we’re content with the dull overcast as we keep a keen eye out for the many lobster pots that ensnare these waters. Gannets, shearwaters and guillemots keep us in good company as they soar, circle and plummet in search of their breakfast.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilWFqBmPLfxHJnR-Sbj8hL65InbYxN7ySXf0fOLYPEHRk34-miX-EVo2RR5mDZyWDNjtTc28neVLvWtir0-JFo_SIa7qJtigUyBySECGNxLU8JdBhF53R-nQmDQQ8IW8g5PGyyr7yEDdzNgS5JVkGiefYj_ZgHj7HVOWhEA7AsvM1Bql57mKYEhV-MXQ/s4000/20240113_085233.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilWFqBmPLfxHJnR-Sbj8hL65InbYxN7ySXf0fOLYPEHRk34-miX-EVo2RR5mDZyWDNjtTc28neVLvWtir0-JFo_SIa7qJtigUyBySECGNxLU8JdBhF53R-nQmDQQ8IW8g5PGyyr7yEDdzNgS5JVkGiefYj_ZgHj7HVOWhEA7AsvM1Bql57mKYEhV-MXQ/s320/20240113_085233.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />0920 204° COG, 5.8kn SOG, 7.0nm logged. Motor-sailing on genoa, wind 8.7kn astern<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsuonoQwRTvt5Tv-vod_Wv-ZcQf5sX710haJLbOBdvyagVrm7LCRIUamnpZcAJDujsDZcTWCH5JDgsILuzD5F8_JyKU2uJvKtlOBFnJKPS8_5BNwcYvEchJQZMIvfDobdGWmZfSEZ-k1y7ymZQQ69ognfreZq2pRtfCz_0Y_gn_MUdD0I0bUGCl44XuA/s4000/20240113_090817(0).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsuonoQwRTvt5Tv-vod_Wv-ZcQf5sX710haJLbOBdvyagVrm7LCRIUamnpZcAJDujsDZcTWCH5JDgsILuzD5F8_JyKU2uJvKtlOBFnJKPS8_5BNwcYvEchJQZMIvfDobdGWmZfSEZ-k1y7ymZQQ69ognfreZq2pRtfCz_0Y_gn_MUdD0I0bUGCl44XuA/s320/20240113_090817(0).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We’re making excellent way despite what must still be a foul tide set against us. The engine is set at an unlaboured 2000 revs, clearly the wind astern filling our headsail is giving us a very welcome push.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBPFN3E5tcUBIV6FCdul77_hgwu-R5ihG5-x3QKemEOp5ii9Jk3D-VyZaZ7uNPJkZS2ySI2HY9-3DmJpJE_8TO8ReqkfQk8c2uyHvykNYobqdlbLScSeMUiZ82paI1Ya6NyuemICjqsS8LK3P1OpFo75xcndUhfIZLo5Fqb6Vjj_kKUrscHZRpklVhW8/s3788/20240113_090933(0).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1769" data-original-width="3788" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBPFN3E5tcUBIV6FCdul77_hgwu-R5ihG5-x3QKemEOp5ii9Jk3D-VyZaZ7uNPJkZS2ySI2HY9-3DmJpJE_8TO8ReqkfQk8c2uyHvykNYobqdlbLScSeMUiZ82paI1Ya6NyuemICjqsS8LK3P1OpFo75xcndUhfIZLo5Fqb6Vjj_kKUrscHZRpklVhW8/s320/20240113_090933(0).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Dan was the first to spot them at about a hundred yards off our port bow: a pod of porpoises broaching the surface in cavorting waves as they make their way in the opposite direction to us. It’s cold, but we’re all wrapped up warm, seeing them puts a smile on all three of our faces and intensifies our scrutiny of the waters around us. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pJWI0GCcV46RGWvFDt1CQPsDM6Jqay0H59OHEvJH5uqry5mWtuTQ677RbpUinlr9IkE0ei3ELBbuYBFaohNOpOEfLxKu5JaleTbtoPnU6K1yIE1FVoUe6o3AZULtsGZS-r4d1K2ThpHutph-Xv3NFa9KmGz2lglUdWLThAiAEP0-LGlfS_WF_6RwTjE/s1920/BbpwgL6Z4K1P4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pJWI0GCcV46RGWvFDt1CQPsDM6Jqay0H59OHEvJH5uqry5mWtuTQ677RbpUinlr9IkE0ei3ELBbuYBFaohNOpOEfLxKu5JaleTbtoPnU6K1yIE1FVoUe6o3AZULtsGZS-r4d1K2ThpHutph-Xv3NFa9KmGz2lglUdWLThAiAEP0-LGlfS_WF_6RwTjE/s320/BbpwgL6Z4K1P4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Then dolphins. I spy a trio following the pod of porpoises, and they clearly spot us, then directly alter their course to make a line for our bow wave, vaulting across the water as they come. As they reach us, they are joined by more of their companions from astern and to starboard, and for the next twenty minutes or so, we are privileged by their playful escort.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNgVX400vuKmN7cw2zjJMOzDKXTifz0Tbs6yd3tjH9EcchyphenhyphenMpjXol8I4_dteBhmgIcZLVWjvlw_11o5g5JTepj3kOywB8NnvXk9W7_KPwaxSeIOAPLpR1vinM5TGzM9XfjRqVHHG1LrLdyo8lnmk3OirHAAPxfBrQzv6r_cTVfR7Ux0K4ItwpfZe90EY/s1920/m4RQDeerZaRLL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNgVX400vuKmN7cw2zjJMOzDKXTifz0Tbs6yd3tjH9EcchyphenhyphenMpjXol8I4_dteBhmgIcZLVWjvlw_11o5g5JTepj3kOywB8NnvXk9W7_KPwaxSeIOAPLpR1vinM5TGzM9XfjRqVHHG1LrLdyo8lnmk3OirHAAPxfBrQzv6r_cTVfR7Ux0K4ItwpfZe90EY/s320/m4RQDeerZaRLL.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />1030 225° COG, 7.4kn SOG, 14.4nm logged. 50° 12.9N 003° 36.1W<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHjwB4UIlXm0pZPIySXcNlRp75bTbJDrxEg-AKEcVI7dLCCz_7yYEntrfM1RIlHglHf97XDwKwynEvLwo4ZdCC4Iy0qqo6wWFnUBeD5ee4q2wR5L0E_5iDp1mUQQHdeXzr927YeuP8fo_HDPPfD5KOujdoB-nZz0_GNWVPzx435YBojL7Z9umvv-RjPBg/s1920/dbdBR5Ry4VqWR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHjwB4UIlXm0pZPIySXcNlRp75bTbJDrxEg-AKEcVI7dLCCz_7yYEntrfM1RIlHglHf97XDwKwynEvLwo4ZdCC4Iy0qqo6wWFnUBeD5ee4q2wR5L0E_5iDp1mUQQHdeXzr927YeuP8fo_HDPPfD5KOujdoB-nZz0_GNWVPzx435YBojL7Z9umvv-RjPBg/s320/dbdBR5Ry4VqWR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The sea is choppy, but the overfalls off Start Point are very slight, subdued by the turning tide which should, very soon, turn fair for the west. The sky remains overcast, the wind 10 knots on our starboard beam. I break open the tub of Haribo to keep the moral of the crew afloat. Nelson’s navy might have sailed and fought on their steady ration of rum, we do it on jellied sweets. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsomPgDAqtc5Z7PioeRBjAcEXFoRJ_QIwwPslG2EHNxOJ4TAaqJ6ZOkDD7FZEVW5Su3IN9a5L41Wb_N1cC9Eupo8JdAPG42Ks7Shk9G7imvW8v4KVIumGWmUVqdLQkp1CxPNlsW7VKwsy1r5aJ8ZFqNhvHWXlvu9zNFrBnd9weEt8lAyfP609HvEkXYE/s2733/20240113_102652.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="2733" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsomPgDAqtc5Z7PioeRBjAcEXFoRJ_QIwwPslG2EHNxOJ4TAaqJ6ZOkDD7FZEVW5Su3IN9a5L41Wb_N1cC9Eupo8JdAPG42Ks7Shk9G7imvW8v4KVIumGWmUVqdLQkp1CxPNlsW7VKwsy1r5aJ8ZFqNhvHWXlvu9zNFrBnd9weEt8lAyfP609HvEkXYE/s320/20240113_102652.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I’m thinking we should be sailing. The balance of opinion is against me, Dad and Dan very happy with the progress we’re making and wondering why I’d disrupt it. But a boat is not a democracy. The promise of bacon rolls from the galley below is vaguely floated to distract me. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPk6Y9dNjCR9ymdJFgLctJlLLeN1pFO5Ek10R6-vJ49eEI_hOdpl-w2-8mKNIHDJnw41mvpj-4uWvdaj9We-y9QpUzQ_ERfUpIzygPAvyU25iUWLtnxXb14AI1TPNSu-pcV94hODA1u-0Apnquq_ZYeASBokrOCBi05qo3Nr6HO0s_gr2eWlZJzqbjeE/s4000/20240113_091144.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPk6Y9dNjCR9ymdJFgLctJlLLeN1pFO5Ek10R6-vJ49eEI_hOdpl-w2-8mKNIHDJnw41mvpj-4uWvdaj9We-y9QpUzQ_ERfUpIzygPAvyU25iUWLtnxXb14AI1TPNSu-pcV94hODA1u-0Apnquq_ZYeASBokrOCBi05qo3Nr6HO0s_gr2eWlZJzqbjeE/s320/20240113_091144.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><br />Over the next hour, the wind stays abeam but increases to a steady 14 or 15 knots, sometimes gusting up to 20. We see speeds over the ground, our engine assisted by the headsail, touching 9 knots at times. I’m quietly impressed and just a little pleased, itching to still the engine and see how we do without it. Dad heads below to put the bacon on.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gy80Gk3Qk0QZHwQLksXeuoIDoO8YJsUQZpA1xaNO6ibJ8ZiNnXKuVAxmAnv78wEWDDofeYlNlkCxb3BFhWmT-8zslJQbF45BSzJohN4YSl6obMviXUl800iwfUnSujxRFJ2Hxt8jZJ173RVYtbtQ-tb22x9TcUr-YJqVlAKN463vHmtojhYvn6_r394/s3944/20240113_092500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1842" data-original-width="3944" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gy80Gk3Qk0QZHwQLksXeuoIDoO8YJsUQZpA1xaNO6ibJ8ZiNnXKuVAxmAnv78wEWDDofeYlNlkCxb3BFhWmT-8zslJQbF45BSzJohN4YSl6obMviXUl800iwfUnSujxRFJ2Hxt8jZJ173RVYtbtQ-tb22x9TcUr-YJqVlAKN463vHmtojhYvn6_r394/s320/20240113_092500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />1120 282° COG, 7.0kn SOG, 20.0nm logged. Salcombe off starboard beam<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kzkdtOeYFN8AWOGIb3-xKx2U43cuZ4Udp7lXsbzrRxOMtPBymkHG4QB_bDFD28QBaZH6Q3LwGID9lkS4DOygmGfIWubmlL3Gq4zQoGO28L-EcfkvNeU17m06YoKrPyvKcA835kn9z4Ih44r4rnJS_8q_1oRb0wXLZMJroK3YNA8Rg8GDTQQhYBWForA/s4000/20240113_115928.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kzkdtOeYFN8AWOGIb3-xKx2U43cuZ4Udp7lXsbzrRxOMtPBymkHG4QB_bDFD28QBaZH6Q3LwGID9lkS4DOygmGfIWubmlL3Gq4zQoGO28L-EcfkvNeU17m06YoKrPyvKcA835kn9z4Ih44r4rnJS_8q_1oRb0wXLZMJroK3YNA8Rg8GDTQQhYBWForA/s320/20240113_115928.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I still the engine. 14 knots of wind abeam, the gusts have eased however. We hold a steady 7 knots under headsail alone, barrelling though the choppy waters, just shy of keeping pace with the waves, but surfing down the face of the occasional bigger one as it lifts us from astern. It is easy sailing.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyU6NCKFfPb5_NgZHKocniREJDLMwyATIfDvzmYG9z9DHY2DYPBU_kjHq05twGHi4TaGbb_d5FtW40swOOj8dNyuNbRSDeG95wIaZAOPxjnNkL_Q8fZdUWF1aiN8Et3t7rYaemAfQFbz0t6I64lPlK3oNBqRwFZMVWKprLEAW8xcsFnXInNl2ZEkoj7ok/s4000/20240113_113248.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyU6NCKFfPb5_NgZHKocniREJDLMwyATIfDvzmYG9z9DHY2DYPBU_kjHq05twGHi4TaGbb_d5FtW40swOOj8dNyuNbRSDeG95wIaZAOPxjnNkL_Q8fZdUWF1aiN8Et3t7rYaemAfQFbz0t6I64lPlK3oNBqRwFZMVWKprLEAW8xcsFnXInNl2ZEkoj7ok/s320/20240113_113248.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>1230 302° COG, 5.9kn SOG, 28.7nm on the log</p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KutqutYJqsKsU-rwtcDI9HRDHmv5nl1kP_8FonqmNV24rF3ahptEkmYTqrrS6uEOTmbhyphenhyphen5EsbSdDmfCv3I5q1mmF_COBxMJ7EVsvZgsvhBnyuHk4_wvS_rHSZ0rjhUNxzI_pQeUpRu65bD9Jww_J4mrG93-a2o2oJYJjPr36YTDs-sTyJfC0098WhpI/s4000/20240113_114704.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KutqutYJqsKsU-rwtcDI9HRDHmv5nl1kP_8FonqmNV24rF3ahptEkmYTqrrS6uEOTmbhyphenhyphen5EsbSdDmfCv3I5q1mmF_COBxMJ7EVsvZgsvhBnyuHk4_wvS_rHSZ0rjhUNxzI_pQeUpRu65bD9Jww_J4mrG93-a2o2oJYJjPr36YTDs-sTyJfC0098WhpI/s320/20240113_114704.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Bigbury Bay is off our starboard beam as we head towards Yealm Head and the now just uncovering but still distant Mew Stone. The wind is dropping, 12 knots on the beam but still occasionally gusting up to 20. I’m contemplating the mainsail. Dan is wondering if we should reef if we do raise it. I don’t know the answer; my feeling is that it would be unnecessary, but Petrella and I are still getting to know each other. The bacon rolls were delicious. I’m curious as to how the reefing system on the main would work.<p></p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5qfA4v3XhZIklWEh8kza-LezoVKizI9aNE0cjCJwkptzNBNa_LOgt_rhC2kSVVrXvSNfpO-Mxf3WRcGCTx2haT2eISqt3vMjBVj-vC15gOcVX-6UMkmDjCDXOOoDg4TDY_rF2Z1v82B2GLVyjmLv2vw9PRuA0hecH54kr56sjECmYhCaBRuCxroZqrY/s4000/20240113_091147.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5qfA4v3XhZIklWEh8kza-LezoVKizI9aNE0cjCJwkptzNBNa_LOgt_rhC2kSVVrXvSNfpO-Mxf3WRcGCTx2haT2eISqt3vMjBVj-vC15gOcVX-6UMkmDjCDXOOoDg4TDY_rF2Z1v82B2GLVyjmLv2vw9PRuA0hecH54kr56sjECmYhCaBRuCxroZqrY/s320/20240113_091147.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />1302 287° COG, 6.8kn, 31.8nm on the log, wind is 10.2kts on the starboard beam, sea state slight<p></p><p></p><p>We raise the mainsail. I initially try to do it under sail, my intention to lie-to on the headsail, just above close hauled. But I fail, miserably, to communicate my intentions to Dan on the helm whilst I work on managing the sails, and he puts us head to wind (because, to be fair, that is what you do when you raise the mainsail). As you'd expect, the bow goes through the wind, the genoa backs, we pirouette. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Nothing damaged but our pride. We could sail out of it, but I start the engine and let Dan hold her head to wind under power. I take some comfort over reassuring myself that the engine starts. Petrella and I are still getting to know each other.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LuE5fi022RIvBQz2odI04UU37SILOxEqaf4NiZOkMIrg4t6sxrlmIv8r2_BntGOSvJCOu3bMh99OiYFRcU2hDyEZfjDSHKWMnN5OYldi5sUy0017xdemSo_k8FwrnmhZDCuhj88s0OfUTtJoB2EiZaRahieSFP_Jv-jsjOkoKh4yZvOxur2zMNPHaXY/s4000/20240113_131640.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LuE5fi022RIvBQz2odI04UU37SILOxEqaf4NiZOkMIrg4t6sxrlmIv8r2_BntGOSvJCOu3bMh99OiYFRcU2hDyEZfjDSHKWMnN5OYldi5sUy0017xdemSo_k8FwrnmhZDCuhj88s0OfUTtJoB2EiZaRahieSFP_Jv-jsjOkoKh4yZvOxur2zMNPHaXY/s320/20240113_131640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p>We settle onto a beam reach. I leave the sail a quarter reefed, in part out of curiosity, in part out of caution; we’re still seeing gusts into the high teens. With a quarter of the main still rolled around the boom, the sail covers the fixing point for the kicker. I’ve had this conversation with a couple of Petrella’s previous owners, they are all a lovely, supportive bunch; the general consensus of opinion was that they didn’t bother with the kicker when reefed, but relied upon the aft sheeting of the mainsheet to pull the boom down.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgE5yTuqAXBGN5HdECHDvRvUC8Plvbmdwg7dyw5k_WEIxZxatdL7Vz14oD91ukrAXFXK_hF7Ccv2AhMTusZAmQK1T40vaA5aIOr4IBpxxIr_ygp764od0eF8ElE5xC2wai2IXNGzP6NWA1nWopj_HsKyDap4-52PG63PWhy60P55gN7LlSrciDEOZDVqaE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="2122" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgE5yTuqAXBGN5HdECHDvRvUC8Plvbmdwg7dyw5k_WEIxZxatdL7Vz14oD91ukrAXFXK_hF7Ccv2AhMTusZAmQK1T40vaA5aIOr4IBpxxIr_ygp764od0eF8ElE5xC2wai2IXNGzP6NWA1nWopj_HsKyDap4-52PG63PWhy60P55gN7LlSrciDEOZDVqaE" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p>On a beam reach it doesn’t, and although Petrella doesn’t seem unduly troubled by it, I find I just can’t abide the twisting away of the mainsail’s leech. I fish the metal “horseshoe” out from the rope locker. I’d spent ages flexing the rollers at the mouth of the horseshoe back into life with generous doses of silicon lubricant and exercising them; three of the four now run smoothly, but the fourth remains stubborn. But I figure it’ll serve. </p><p>The horseshoe won’t fit on at the gooseneck, especially with the boom set on a beam reach, so I slide it on over the clew of the sail, which involves a bit of what could be precarious balancing on the roof of the aft cabin. I tether the long strop of the horseshoe to the end of the boom to prevent it slipping forward towards the gooseneck further than we would want, slide it up along the roll if the sail to its proper position, and then fit the kicker.</p><p>I pull tension on, and the tell-tails flying off the leech of the main set perfectly. I feel very pleased with myself.</p><p>1330 300° COG, 5.5kn SOG, 34.0nm on the log. Wind 8 knots abeam</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMK5teWY4Q2uArGvCl12a67OxSPIf2ADfEpqy8Z06dtvXUyh6ZLAQi9NOCYYch5YmY25IqglatrsjMKwY5PXoP6kqyaHEW5Ic0pirxJgZyFIpq1ilTr02-PcglnSv72PCUj4D1UyPVagLr839HYWJjZhQbtwgOMiBRNX9klOmotuQy0F9DnexYor8dWs/s3788/20240113_134806.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1769" data-original-width="3788" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMK5teWY4Q2uArGvCl12a67OxSPIf2ADfEpqy8Z06dtvXUyh6ZLAQi9NOCYYch5YmY25IqglatrsjMKwY5PXoP6kqyaHEW5Ic0pirxJgZyFIpq1ilTr02-PcglnSv72PCUj4D1UyPVagLr839HYWJjZhQbtwgOMiBRNX9klOmotuQy0F9DnexYor8dWs/s320/20240113_134806.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>With the wind and boat speed dropping, I drop the reef out of the main. Dan laughs at me, pointing out that I’d originally said if the boat speed dropped below 6 knots I’d start the engine, then revised it to 5 knots, and now I was shaking out the reef, suggesting 4 knots would be perfectly adequate. With 8 knots abeam and full sail, she’s still making a very respectable 5.5 knots over the ground; we can’t have more than half a knot of fair tide under us. I find it very hard to turn my nose up at that, and in any case, we’re still set to get in before dark.</p><p>1400 317° COG, 4.6kn SOG, 36.8nm logged</p><p>We round the Mew Stone marking the far side of Wembury Bay, it’s shape as familiar and welcome as the shadow of an old friend crossing your doorstep. As the eastern entrance to the Sound comes into sight ahead, the wind comes up onto our starboard bow and we're close-hauled, nowhere near lying the entrance. We carry on a little further for the sake of form, but the wind is failing now, the speed has dropped below 4 knots so, reluctantly, I start the engine and roll the headsail away.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVWsOxmquPkUKbxBqhGc4S1UolIYYitCO6Ad09G7920bL8ecU_jXA-fD3g0yc1eyob7iDPQiA9FmBc8JxSvksRBYjmDcYKVi8NR1v8r6Zm7MPwTEl7BNk6L21eAPOhLIvMafa8iMxyqpWYc0q2gCmIH0GQukzymHFgX3CLEGi1ZJLL_jBtPD9w-nOvXY/s3392/20240113_131655.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="3392" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVWsOxmquPkUKbxBqhGc4S1UolIYYitCO6Ad09G7920bL8ecU_jXA-fD3g0yc1eyob7iDPQiA9FmBc8JxSvksRBYjmDcYKVi8NR1v8r6Zm7MPwTEl7BNk6L21eAPOhLIvMafa8iMxyqpWYc0q2gCmIH0GQukzymHFgX3CLEGi1ZJLL_jBtPD9w-nOvXY/s320/20240113_131655.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>We motor into Plymouth, pointing out the sights to Dan who has visited the town often enough, but never been out on the Sound. Dan keeps the helm whilst I roll the main away. Forgetting to engage the ratchet on the rolling boom, I initially roll it away as neat as you like but the wrong way, so have to re-hoist it and do it all again but properly. Another lesson learned, but I doubt it’s likely to be the last Petrella has to teach me. Sail safely down, I resume the helm and Dad and Dan set out the lines and fenders.</p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HY0MHvF4vTd_3D8yy0K7mUWBwrouo_ep53n8cCtlhrfJqiCZodxoMU2gbU5kAJ5yzaa78N5Z4Pd91umhsrGgu2cCuMl7nZvJzPotTBF6tyA-MG5_NeMupgF_wEbBhnkdbP7H6BfDfWpUlsVA7kNoAB4dvrsS5P7QoaJMzpl7nU0W0XoAhZnpjB5ZOGY/s4000/20240113_135315.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HY0MHvF4vTd_3D8yy0K7mUWBwrouo_ep53n8cCtlhrfJqiCZodxoMU2gbU5kAJ5yzaa78N5Z4Pd91umhsrGgu2cCuMl7nZvJzPotTBF6tyA-MG5_NeMupgF_wEbBhnkdbP7H6BfDfWpUlsVA7kNoAB4dvrsS5P7QoaJMzpl7nU0W0XoAhZnpjB5ZOGY/s320/20240113_135315.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Our berth is D12, bow in, port side to. What’s left of the wind will be blowing direct onto our nose. QAB is a fairly tight marina, so we’ll need to stay on our toes. I’m quite familiar with where we’re going, but brief Dad and Dan carefully on the layout and how I expect our approach and landing to go. Dan leads the bow line back to the shrouds and stands by with the midships spring, Dad takes his fender and stands by to starboard to save any embarrassment with our new neighbour if I get it wrong.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTboipYOCQhLc9BTyJ9FA4Hp3a-jegct3SuY7tKNGB7PoWn8glHR1x6yfAvMLQ1wLpJMrHj91dPbrstgwnaA7k_qpl-pRXvebpkGhj6t9N3LkGuvDokfggwBEpDJyUCWz6t21teexyh8V6NvNu3K9_DpE6W0nbo3EZ8vwvt0I3FLBmurYqYtyF9luyeI/s3944/20240113_142225.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1842" data-original-width="3944" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTboipYOCQhLc9BTyJ9FA4Hp3a-jegct3SuY7tKNGB7PoWn8glHR1x6yfAvMLQ1wLpJMrHj91dPbrstgwnaA7k_qpl-pRXvebpkGhj6t9N3LkGuvDokfggwBEpDJyUCWz6t21teexyh8V6NvNu3K9_DpE6W0nbo3EZ8vwvt0I3FLBmurYqYtyF9luyeI/s320/20240113_142225.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Approaching the Mountbatten Breakwater, dodging the inevitable ferries, I call up the marina to check our berth is clear. They answer promptly, confirm I’ve got the berth assignment correct and that it’s clear, then offer to send somebody down to help take our lines.<p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAJ_w05dOOCJ7D54dvImly3eOKbRJAw7EYHCRcrHHB2rcp09GJJOwUJaE5AzfBoYpZxJsT5aOSC__X9B4p-ue67PkQX1ZDyTMvAsHRjpBW7amEXe1GwG5Iu-8l9JkkAsg5mcROU4-GGzD0vMQHp6wsb94SOlTtKyg4aY6W6kSyj7sQJM8adqNDGleKO2k" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="2122" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAJ_w05dOOCJ7D54dvImly3eOKbRJAw7EYHCRcrHHB2rcp09GJJOwUJaE5AzfBoYpZxJsT5aOSC__X9B4p-ue67PkQX1ZDyTMvAsHRjpBW7amEXe1GwG5Iu-8l9JkkAsg5mcROU4-GGzD0vMQHp6wsb94SOlTtKyg4aY6W6kSyj7sQJM8adqNDGleKO2k" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">QAB the week previous</td></tr></tbody></table><br />We round the wave shield and enter the marina. It’s as tight a squeeze as I remember it, so I edge into our row just sliding past the stern of the boat on the end of the pontoon opposite ours. There’s a friendly wave from the chap the marina office sent down to help with our lines. I misjudge our final turn, overshooting by a significant margin, and can sense everybody’s slight concern as we’re momentarily pointed straight at our neighbour. But I arrest the forward motion with a touch of astern, the momentum continuing our turn in the direction we want without my troubling the rudder, then nurse her ahead again. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOPZwQ3vVX9GLzbwlu7xiwvNCT8uLKw2jVGv2XHoh6ktuLAFamhoSwOEhQuNlKZKzdc1LvOUNIiGTj7UGuHykD4m2BJGfoHlkTEqvWtjuOcedIgTD_zSV7ojWPrMde92hyphenhyphenO3cQuSX2VcotGvvaVKzmUQ66wRYtlYYxyzU9S_IRDwGgLV6X3L3nszos6Hw/s4000/20240114_085626.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOPZwQ3vVX9GLzbwlu7xiwvNCT8uLKw2jVGv2XHoh6ktuLAFamhoSwOEhQuNlKZKzdc1LvOUNIiGTj7UGuHykD4m2BJGfoHlkTEqvWtjuOcedIgTD_zSV7ojWPrMde92hyphenhyphenO3cQuSX2VcotGvvaVKzmUQ66wRYtlYYxyzU9S_IRDwGgLV6X3L3nszos6Hw/s320/20240114_085626.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Dan makes a heroic throw with the bow line, skilfully caught by our new friend on the dock, who then proceeds to haul our nose in. A little concerned that we might now crash our unprotected bow into the finger pontoon, I subtly steer against him to hold us off, and then when I judge we’re far enough into the berth, put her astern to stop. Motoring against the now secured bow line, the prop-walk nestles us in gently against our pontoon, so I step ashore to secure the aft spring and we’re home.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkk8vEzSsu-7a2rt3HtxNPq1NDtfJrzWlmMvJ64SDGvN-dgKXf-13Lvsco-W0JGEBmUFC6N4zvagcPWrolzZsnYbo0K7QnCib2PGWr0LzQzl6oYZVSjZ5v2Ku5PcqSlE41GcP1hKapGUVf6IEw2uL-Eds4huJ2wcRWnljsUQzlhxiplYZG0gxrFe7_auU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="975" data-original-width="1046" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkk8vEzSsu-7a2rt3HtxNPq1NDtfJrzWlmMvJ64SDGvN-dgKXf-13Lvsco-W0JGEBmUFC6N4zvagcPWrolzZsnYbo0K7QnCib2PGWr0LzQzl6oYZVSjZ5v2Ku5PcqSlE41GcP1hKapGUVf6IEw2uL-Eds4huJ2wcRWnljsUQzlhxiplYZG0gxrFe7_auU" width="257" /></a></div><br />A shade over 40 nautical miles, 7 hours and 2 minutes underway; only 2 hours and 40 minutes of that under sail, but that’s two hours and forty minutes more than I originally thought we had reason to hope for or deserve from the forecast.<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/2W5uw2GT0AY?si=eS1EhasIljK2EQHG" width="480"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>We secured the rest of her dock lines, set her fenders and put the cockpit tent back up. Then we retired to the marina’s bar, our first passage with Petrella now done.<div><div><p></p><p>We remain delighted with her.</p></div></div></div>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-64073711986620090922024-01-15T23:38:00.002+00:002024-01-15T23:38:40.488+00:00Petrella: admission<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHrgi8e-QWbtd6Cl7FZ4YnD5dBqxDn5qfHpe7TdGqIDM50MU2kgwP7Xp2OpDVFeTbpYVuYafVGkm8pm8-U5NcyHumj8arX7sz84YRzuIzk2wDhly4ytc3Zr7CdzVlItOZxU9xHPMVg7QJraBpVF3wDVkdD7uvqQEqahq_fcrfd1EbwKre9pmjsRoqPpw/s1920/dbdBR5Ry4VqWR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHrgi8e-QWbtd6Cl7FZ4YnD5dBqxDn5qfHpe7TdGqIDM50MU2kgwP7Xp2OpDVFeTbpYVuYafVGkm8pm8-U5NcyHumj8arX7sz84YRzuIzk2wDhly4ytc3Zr7CdzVlItOZxU9xHPMVg7QJraBpVF3wDVkdD7uvqQEqahq_fcrfd1EbwKre9pmjsRoqPpw/s320/dbdBR5Ry4VqWR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I was wrong. </p><p>Perfect wind, a great passage from Brixham to Plymouth, and dolphins were involved. We had a great weekend. I shall write more shortly, but for the meantime, enough to say I am delighted with how Petrella sails.</p><p></p><div><br /></div>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-55259943486108038092024-01-12T10:43:00.002+00:002024-01-12T10:43:23.345+00:00Petrella: the bigger picture<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhex3a0Y9XR3XoMzkA5HWqIcT7PId_mbfMCLlkugWeuwVCvxm7loJl3reW-edMdXITJtJY3K4WdNpuTP-Xqzk50GU0-4ne51g0CBLIegmQbCNQmcuAJBzvkkXK2pizul6bWVqTRy8uBUGNQx18xRdtDxSE9KY6Khwiz104s2TroAuyQgcFa6LJ9QfsCkxw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="956" data-original-width="1917" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhex3a0Y9XR3XoMzkA5HWqIcT7PId_mbfMCLlkugWeuwVCvxm7loJl3reW-edMdXITJtJY3K4WdNpuTP-Xqzk50GU0-4ne51g0CBLIegmQbCNQmcuAJBzvkkXK2pizul6bWVqTRy8uBUGNQx18xRdtDxSE9KY6Khwiz104s2TroAuyQgcFa6LJ9QfsCkxw" width="320" /></a></div><br />Plenty of wind for tomorrow. Just not for us. Have an 0800 departure planned, and QAB are expecting us late afternoon. We have a full tank of fuel; much as I hate using it, I think this is likely to be a good thing. <p></p><p>In any case, it'll be nice just to slip free of harbour and enjoy a few hours out on the water, even if it's very unlikely we'll have enough wind to actually sail.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-46929993613937648452024-01-10T15:10:00.001+00:002024-01-10T15:10:26.632+00:00Petrella: plans<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEga16GxtEInGPci0jRqN8td7INjkUBOnh4qpWdAkpKGO5ztf-9vWob-NjH6LcPVD1u00newxMBSP2b7LXNzG0B62g_GBY-T2GzWC7fcYGq7qS4T_nC9ss1HjWZxI_mcTmAw182tgpa1UFhcr3uACWhU_PHymJ4jAcXrodr6FnhbywcfQ9AiCObWzhXgZpM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="1600" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEga16GxtEInGPci0jRqN8td7INjkUBOnh4qpWdAkpKGO5ztf-9vWob-NjH6LcPVD1u00newxMBSP2b7LXNzG0B62g_GBY-T2GzWC7fcYGq7qS4T_nC9ss1HjWZxI_mcTmAw182tgpa1UFhcr3uACWhU_PHymJ4jAcXrodr6FnhbywcfQ9AiCObWzhXgZpM" width="320" /></a></div><p>Sunrise 13/01 is at 0813, sunset at 1638. New moon, spring tides. Slack water at Start Point will be around 1000 (HW Plymouth +3) after which tide will run fair for the west.</p><p>Wind forecast to be easterly but light (6 to 11 knots), weather very cold but dry (-1 to 3°C)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRiY4aSGv64YAFRZB_2OFu3eVehC4B0A9AiC_BN0gEMBT_A8UzdKHXfvPDs8SNh97basvLWDxADs2D6AxuaT2099sBxaXhrhtIjKDmynzRpU3DUrSbDh9cIYYcaKw19D7zFn5cHR6NIZi7zDC7k3trhkTLoFaGwJPK1ws8_k05XI2FElc95LEmks6GdGo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="1646" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRiY4aSGv64YAFRZB_2OFu3eVehC4B0A9AiC_BN0gEMBT_A8UzdKHXfvPDs8SNh97basvLWDxADs2D6AxuaT2099sBxaXhrhtIjKDmynzRpU3DUrSbDh9cIYYcaKw19D7zFn5cHR6NIZi7zDC7k3trhkTLoFaGwJPK1ws8_k05XI2FElc95LEmks6GdGo" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Depart Brixham 13/01 @ 0800<br />40 miles to Plymouth, ETA approx. 1630<p></p><p>Plymouth tides 13/01</p><p>0050 1.0m<br />0658 5.6m<br />1319 0.8m<br />1929 5.3m</p><p>Any delay in leaving or slow down en-route and we can duck into Salcombe or the Yealm, or continue on and arrive at QAB in the dark. Don't like arriving in the dark, but am familiar with Plymouth Sound and QAB, the Sound is well marked and the marina well-lit. An overnight in Salcombe wouldn't be unpleasant though.</p><p>Salcombe tides<br />1323 0.7m (Saturday arr.)<br />1936 5.1m</p><p>Flood tide (to get over the bar)<br />1430 > 1.2m<br />1530 > 2.4m</p><p>0752 5.5m (Sunday dept.)</p><p>If we make it as far as the Yealm, the mood will almost certainly be to push on for the Barbican pubs and restaurants, but just in case, tide heights as follows:</p><p>Yealm (to get over the bar)<br />Tide times as per Plymouth<br />1500 > 2.0m<br />1530 > 2.7m<br />1600 > 3.3m<br /><br />Note to self: Petrella's draft is 1.5m<br /><br /></p><p><br /></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-32923965776682152042024-01-05T15:38:00.002+00:002024-01-05T15:38:26.401+00:00Petrella: decided<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIpARdX1TzQJ5gnfurgvV8ZDSqCelZpkj9EgISZLkB_TplCJn9VqwRUyttQ-Q-lw-2rqfVcUbT2G58Gh-W2M8A5Um86Lo3lhzXxyHTUurDlranevxSCcRRPcTSu8GQeTbKPEIMi1EgOwFYP6qjHjdmHg7F1VI2yCWlz60XSidVQAYQZcyCmpL91WlMnR0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1995" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIpARdX1TzQJ5gnfurgvV8ZDSqCelZpkj9EgISZLkB_TplCJn9VqwRUyttQ-Q-lw-2rqfVcUbT2G58Gh-W2M8A5Um86Lo3lhzXxyHTUurDlranevxSCcRRPcTSu8GQeTbKPEIMi1EgOwFYP6qjHjdmHg7F1VI2yCWlz60XSidVQAYQZcyCmpL91WlMnR0" width="320" /></a></div><br />Decision has just been made. Have just put in and had accepted a request for Petrella to move her berth from Brixham to Queen Anne's Battery. Both marinas are run by the same company, so there's minimal fuss involved on the contractual side. It's been on my mind for a few weeks now, so the decision kind of made itself, eventually.<p></p><p>Will find out next week when we get to move. Would anticipate it'll be fairly soon. The picture above is of one of the locals at QAB, taken during Calstar's residency there. If a mullet could look cute, I reckon she'd be a cute mullet.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-29153481154608251292024-01-05T11:27:00.000+00:002024-01-05T11:27:02.997+00:00land locked<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHHll2TAfxUZEkdcBjJyJBKziD-lX0UWjy-J53_REDQv38Fs0EQkcYTaFXZRaxTLVNPOneQ9FY8sIjantYUISQ56OB1RywupdgQennLEl_c0J21WbKH0ZGKNK9Zi53Ki4UEKS0r80j5x3OI3loPcHDG2zEGkI_mT3miVSikq9JP8vMxG83w4d77e2E6_g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="2122" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHHll2TAfxUZEkdcBjJyJBKziD-lX0UWjy-J53_REDQv38Fs0EQkcYTaFXZRaxTLVNPOneQ9FY8sIjantYUISQ56OB1RywupdgQennLEl_c0J21WbKH0ZGKNK9Zi53Ki4UEKS0r80j5x3OI3loPcHDG2zEGkI_mT3miVSikq9JP8vMxG83w4d77e2E6_g" width="320" /></a></div><br />Nearing the end of the first week of 2024 and feeling like it's been too long since I last properly got out on the water. Distracted, in part, by the new boat but harbour-bound by inclement weather almost every time we've made it down to her. <br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQ6puu6TAO-ruwiPTGbiPpCnOfww4RKmUzww5IIyViWm5BTwKIW4OVZf99CwfiYboSAZAhxek6pETTSa7T1pdI90nGRh-WkYo9U4lVpJGrdeKkgkw6Bqh5DbvaxUa3eOv8J9n3Oo0G62Sx-jK0FqKDsy6iOozQe1gAzonHUJhPPO1hh5y1bA4Hecets4o" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="2122" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQ6puu6TAO-ruwiPTGbiPpCnOfww4RKmUzww5IIyViWm5BTwKIW4OVZf99CwfiYboSAZAhxek6pETTSa7T1pdI90nGRh-WkYo9U4lVpJGrdeKkgkw6Bqh5DbvaxUa3eOv8J9n3Oo0G62Sx-jK0FqKDsy6iOozQe1gAzonHUJhPPO1hh5y1bA4Hecets4o" width="320" /></a></div><br />But it's been a good winter season for dealing with the myriad of "five minute jobs" that come with any boat, so Dad's been very much in his element.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik2P_Zrqey_jwoFUYazM74EilZriEdmsBYQljlCIvqH6X6VT5x-XYFAFEJeIYIMmleqJQxx2jXEwNoXWHPXmZ6IYr46i5R2VLtNgBJbqpTUpR9kJpVO1IOSCp4cz8yEPqmFzgIGcHx8qTVjUc6HI6O4fn4DPh-J2CI4P2i8j_6jX2tYW0Lsz1IjkAwhEY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="991" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik2P_Zrqey_jwoFUYazM74EilZriEdmsBYQljlCIvqH6X6VT5x-XYFAFEJeIYIMmleqJQxx2jXEwNoXWHPXmZ6IYr46i5R2VLtNgBJbqpTUpR9kJpVO1IOSCp4cz8yEPqmFzgIGcHx8qTVjUc6HI6O4fn4DPh-J2CI4P2i8j_6jX2tYW0Lsz1IjkAwhEY" width="240" /></a></div><br />This coming Saturday, Nikki and I have our anniversary; 28 years married, although she's actually put up with me for a few more than that. Planning to make a day trip of the journey down to Brixham Saturday morning, supper somewhere in town Saturday evening, spend the night aboard Petrella then home again Sunday.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMdqrvoQI-eO_y5ahiEos_KLDujDZK11Iyhmt_G3NoHmWd-Xsy_BUQ4WA1hJEmhsN-_TuH-Guwd0FNIp6CjUqcDqScHlrffgsFesaUJRFdXos69KSrW0yAyqEBNQjYpX1zYu3AFg5Su0Ze-WjkPA0S8ZEZ-cSpIgw_UPh4pOwggeemk9V3SQglu8-wN7U" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1321" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMdqrvoQI-eO_y5ahiEos_KLDujDZK11Iyhmt_G3NoHmWd-Xsy_BUQ4WA1hJEmhsN-_TuH-Guwd0FNIp6CjUqcDqScHlrffgsFesaUJRFdXos69KSrW0yAyqEBNQjYpX1zYu3AFg5Su0Ze-WjkPA0S8ZEZ-cSpIgw_UPh4pOwggeemk9V3SQglu8-wN7U" width="320" /></a></div><br />Hopefully, the following Sunday Amanda and will have the chance to get the Albacore out and racing again. Feeling very land-locked at the moment. The above shot was from our last trip out at the beginning of December, a lovely day for a sail but we had the lake pretty much to ourselves as nobody else turned up to race us. The following is a clip from the summer of 2021. I don't think I've posted it up here before, but if I have then reposting is simply a gratuitous act of self indulgence for which I make no apology.<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/SGsdTTTnYLg?si=hwUcGJ9fvcFa6kDK" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/SGsdTTTnYLg/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe></div>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-3552422436997261742024-01-01T19:31:00.001+00:002024-01-01T19:31:14.881+00:00another one down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9eK3frBGhol0PmQ48yC37PSu0grqCcH2Pph4mTd-TPnTB6afyZ1kThL787T1_pMiFSGlKDrUKMpPZn1W1aqDm2bazAk6ilT18rkK1Jx4YzUdQEcXxrnD6fC48JHuS75Vb9PEhFEKT52zPcTjS1QhClOOLUkgJfkOTwVoUbvv5RjsJPfVF9XkatTg19-g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1520" data-original-width="2704" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9eK3frBGhol0PmQ48yC37PSu0grqCcH2Pph4mTd-TPnTB6afyZ1kThL787T1_pMiFSGlKDrUKMpPZn1W1aqDm2bazAk6ilT18rkK1Jx4YzUdQEcXxrnD6fC48JHuS75Vb9PEhFEKT52zPcTjS1QhClOOLUkgJfkOTwVoUbvv5RjsJPfVF9XkatTg19-g" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>It's been a week of over-indulgence: food, drink, family and four gigs (above snap was from last night) but frustratingly no sailing. Although I did get down to Brixham with Dad for a day between Christmas and the New Year to check on Petrella and get a couple more "five minute" jobs sorted. But the whirly-gig at the top of the mast was clocking windspeeds gusting up to just shy of 40 knots, so there was absolutely no temptation to cast off and go for a sail, despite the shelter of the bay.</p><p>I don't do new year resolutions, but I am resolved to spend as much time sailing with the new boat as I can over the coming year. Very fond of her current base in Brixham, but seriously thinking about trying to move her to Queen Anne's Battery in Plymouth sometime in the next month or two. Being 40 miles closer to Cornwall feels like an increasingly attractive idea, the more I think about it.</p><p>Meanwhile though, we've been trying to arrange to have her pulled out somewhere for a couple of weeks of TLC. That's proving to be something of an unwelcome adventure, and another incentive to move to QAB, which has it's own boat yard attached, unlike Brixham. Keen to have a look underneath anyway as it's been a twelve month since she was last on the hard, but at the very least her anodes will probably need renewing.</p><p>Happy New Year. It's just another day, really, but in any case, may 2024 bring everything you wish for.</p><p><br /></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-31095017399755851022023-12-26T22:57:00.004+00:002023-12-26T22:57:47.605+00:00news<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_s8HvPhVz8BOFTf1I4zp5XG3TXfJQ85ZNlwK00fhySqvWCoexnQAStt0eYn-PpR_J4psmeOzBNm1KelX-8w2y7-jzqkyJZ6H0zJwV8hVj2uhvVNHWHEeUfVCYK_dFtGk2VuMMZCRIEzrsQpWurVm7JDSsCiVUKSKUikYKrPx_piPmSB0uv3muOmBZZEo/s4000/20231225_215217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="4000" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_s8HvPhVz8BOFTf1I4zp5XG3TXfJQ85ZNlwK00fhySqvWCoexnQAStt0eYn-PpR_J4psmeOzBNm1KelX-8w2y7-jzqkyJZ6H0zJwV8hVj2uhvVNHWHEeUfVCYK_dFtGk2VuMMZCRIEzrsQpWurVm7JDSsCiVUKSKUikYKrPx_piPmSB0uv3muOmBZZEo/s320/20231225_215217.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It appears, and we're 17 weeks in now so I'm comfortable talking about it, that I'm going to be a granddad. I am stupidly, stupidly delighted. Also very much feeling my mortality. By the time these two boys (twins, heh, male) are twenty, I'm going to be into my seventies.<p></p><p>If I'm honest, was never sure I was actually going to make it past sixty-five. Genealogy was against me (excepting my Dad and most of his brothers) so was reconciled to that.<br /><br />So it's now a target. Not a cut-off. And I've always been fond of targets. <br /><br />Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all, near and far.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-7824815981104711492023-12-15T14:37:00.000+00:002023-12-15T14:37:36.166+00:00best dog<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhB2NUWc5loWY8yxoZ9aqElOA-TGZjGyhDL9VPnSsrMSV98fA2L95uU4Kh-PziNP0vh-lIJx3PlmwDTdzk1lXtBN5iVoomCrBCZdMewnKn742XYgaRc-OoOg03uAlOGMoEmZdfCTv6IRuZUm_WuHfXnAfJQnxsrn_LZkvgojnLGg5Ksu0VReN7DCA4owQc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1920" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhB2NUWc5loWY8yxoZ9aqElOA-TGZjGyhDL9VPnSsrMSV98fA2L95uU4Kh-PziNP0vh-lIJx3PlmwDTdzk1lXtBN5iVoomCrBCZdMewnKn742XYgaRc-OoOg03uAlOGMoEmZdfCTv6IRuZUm_WuHfXnAfJQnxsrn_LZkvgojnLGg5Ksu0VReN7DCA4owQc" width="320" /></a></div><br />Everybody thinks they have the best dog. And none of them are wrong.<br />- <i>W.R. Purche</i>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-60963827497727223052023-11-21T15:38:00.001+00:002023-11-21T15:38:22.563+00:00fair weather sailor: reprise<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQzbhwxQAVgnxI3Nj1CQLvlS7dIYiCSEXQf391oS7zEMzEu03oDvJeF6HlGGvgcL24gCqGFrT4zbqWXGTYNr24AbBrYpj9Q99-rl27fs7LAfLd5RDPo6I8kgVhJO4mBcV_K7COcCsv5VHAx4Q7bMiaTFbfmMlpVY2nYwr0L-RBw0z5HckBhYiY02OY6CQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1560" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQzbhwxQAVgnxI3Nj1CQLvlS7dIYiCSEXQf391oS7zEMzEu03oDvJeF6HlGGvgcL24gCqGFrT4zbqWXGTYNr24AbBrYpj9Q99-rl27fs7LAfLd5RDPo6I8kgVhJO4mBcV_K7COcCsv5VHAx4Q7bMiaTFbfmMlpVY2nYwr0L-RBw0z5HckBhYiY02OY6CQ" width="320" /></a></div><br />It was a two gig weekend just gone, Friday and Saturday evening. Both at the same venue, The Whittle Taps in Cheltenham, both very lively, very hard work, and exceptionally good fun. The kind of gig that reminds us why we do it.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVqOREnV0S2iNrPaD7Cdn7WEE8Jq07M8dTpCfSSWVeir8HlGSCBEWcS7tYQwt6MVzIEDY7c7QjmFMVbcNR2dL7JblzEth9Xp8kHoXtoBwtDpHUV7PCxw7Wc6x9oMrsnd-45v0_eT9E7j4rv2XyW8ETfGfQMxU5Vp90Q06ELONf4MWxLt9vjmHVQd21dbE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="612" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVqOREnV0S2iNrPaD7Cdn7WEE8Jq07M8dTpCfSSWVeir8HlGSCBEWcS7tYQwt6MVzIEDY7c7QjmFMVbcNR2dL7JblzEth9Xp8kHoXtoBwtDpHUV7PCxw7Wc6x9oMrsnd-45v0_eT9E7j4rv2XyW8ETfGfQMxU5Vp90Q06ELONf4MWxLt9vjmHVQd21dbE" width="163" /></a></div><br />I could've gone sailing Sunday morning,. I'd meant to. I'd been planning to race the Laser around the lake at South Cerney, but the forecast was for rain and strong winds gusting into the high 30's. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpRWeCM8JEfLVUdB6xhDA5hAjG9qoaPWPGdktfAD83sCGn_P5yQ_8wM77uhLt0gNMAWZ4cLgZbQClnWqwQLSKVOm9CZcsj-sFrXFCFYevrrVSgvB5DciHeszjLzvBiTL58XQ2wZ00Ac-c2rxTge4697G_kT2CMn8BsF6rsZjtUtv0YZc6CF4Zr2IAaW_s" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1560" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpRWeCM8JEfLVUdB6xhDA5hAjG9qoaPWPGdktfAD83sCGn_P5yQ_8wM77uhLt0gNMAWZ4cLgZbQClnWqwQLSKVOm9CZcsj-sFrXFCFYevrrVSgvB5DciHeszjLzvBiTL58XQ2wZ00Ac-c2rxTge4697G_kT2CMn8BsF6rsZjtUtv0YZc6CF4Zr2IAaW_s" width="320" /></a></div><br />I got up Sunday morning. A little later than planned, but still in time to get to the club if I rushed. Even go so far as having packed my kit into my bag. Then decided I really didn't have it in me after all, put the kettle back on and had another cup of tea, followed by a very lazy morning.<p></p><p>Later, as the rain eased a little into the afternoon, I took Lottie for a nice, long walk.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-25163177490690461142023-11-13T11:35:00.000+00:002023-11-13T11:35:24.183+00:00Petrella: fair weather sailor<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e08Z2BAQ4L06jVuuQDhOzSsf0KAMDIcQZIl-l1BOH00Neh1ia6jT8a73mqvFCcewamKLHM5gZxp3wyLIGpgnztIwsG-gGX2wGr9Be0f6nCTLnx_mBt8FlNve9qx8PmKkfbFgAP551cluegmvNP4wBcnvIE0IMmiDyNrSt9ZXm8JBR1jaGbymGYLo5Uk/s4000/20231104_191644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e08Z2BAQ4L06jVuuQDhOzSsf0KAMDIcQZIl-l1BOH00Neh1ia6jT8a73mqvFCcewamKLHM5gZxp3wyLIGpgnztIwsG-gGX2wGr9Be0f6nCTLnx_mBt8FlNve9qx8PmKkfbFgAP551cluegmvNP4wBcnvIE0IMmiDyNrSt9ZXm8JBR1jaGbymGYLo5Uk/s320/20231104_191644.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I've just had a rare weekend without any gigs. Intentionally; we originally had a booking pencilled in that fell through, but once it did I decided that was providence and turned down a couple of subsequent offers to keep it free. I don't now have another weekend free of gigs until after the New Year.<p></p><p>Dad, seeing the weekend free, decided he'd take the opportunity to go visit a friend on the east coast. A lack of joined up thinking - he timed it so he wouldn't miss any gigs, not appreciating that I'd kept the weekend intentionally free of them so that we could go sailing.</p><p>However, my friends Mark and Amanda were kicking around at a loose end so were happy to join me.</p><p>We met up at the boat in Brixham at around 2000hrs and wandered into town to find a pub and a beer, settling on a table in the back room of a cosy harbour-side place called "<a href="https://www.theblueanchorbrixham.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Blue Anchor</a>". A very good duo was performing in the bar; from our table we could hear it and enjoy it all but were enough out of the way to still enjoy our catch up chat.</p><p>The original plan was to sail out on Saturday, overnight in Dartmouth, then back on Sunday. But sat in the bar looking at the forecast on Friday night, Saturday looked lovely but Sunday grim; a fresh storm was blowing in for Monday, but was to be presaged on Sunday by rain and squalls potentially gusting up to 30 knots. </p><p>So we settled for a day sail. There's no point or fun in taking chances with the weather at this time of year.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunxFOGNT5JjuDhGA5Jzby-m19FOnyox60Q3LS3o5uGUWkUgoKTk1CPzX32WbSt4b81eLru93yzM6nfu1Yj08P339wjxn9EWwU3dHyZyI-Bk4SmYGBkNErWkxeIijwWyUygCWFYKXqI2HyL01RpH6MVt0T-FThTS_20r0T0zHih4o4CVrpQnsFQJqB1LE/s2400/Screenshot_20231112_151347_Strava.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunxFOGNT5JjuDhGA5Jzby-m19FOnyox60Q3LS3o5uGUWkUgoKTk1CPzX32WbSt4b81eLru93yzM6nfu1Yj08P339wjxn9EWwU3dHyZyI-Bk4SmYGBkNErWkxeIijwWyUygCWFYKXqI2HyL01RpH6MVt0T-FThTS_20r0T0zHih4o4CVrpQnsFQJqB1LE/w90-h200/Screenshot_20231112_151347_Strava.jpg" width="90" /></a></div><br />With no particular plan or agenda, we had a slow start on Saturday, as much, I expect, due to the over-indulgence of the late night before as lack of any ambitions for the day's sailing, but we told ourselves we were waiting for the wind out in the bay to fill in a little for the afternoon. We cast off at 1400; only the second time I've taken Petrella our of her berth myself, but all, more or less, went to plan. I was a little too cautious reversing her out, so didn't get enough rudder authority to turn as I'd intended, but a little bit of shuffling ahead and astern on the throttle let me correct my misjudgement without any mishap. Luckily our berth is very sheltered.<p></p><p>I'm still not entirely confident with slow speed manoeuvring under power and was, perhaps, guilty of being a little over cautious with the throttle. But we are slowly getting to know each other better, so it's getting easier all the time.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62YRq_xOLypMk7isib5qSdWZXomFNwOo6bY2pq0HjtFxtCVGLAZchrLrbaaa7B4ZY0K6ss3ZvasR3XR-cuglr49lbGUi8R5f9aiQrndLKQTY3e1Zk8lJLv1dVOSjAZCc6EqR92JSNii0PnEDiySaufPsGoZo9ZtsImH4X3QSYOuCsb8Zn6JFaGmRkOEI/s2610/20231111_142313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1174" data-original-width="2610" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62YRq_xOLypMk7isib5qSdWZXomFNwOo6bY2pq0HjtFxtCVGLAZchrLrbaaa7B4ZY0K6ss3ZvasR3XR-cuglr49lbGUi8R5f9aiQrndLKQTY3e1Zk8lJLv1dVOSjAZCc6EqR92JSNii0PnEDiySaufPsGoZo9ZtsImH4X3QSYOuCsb8Zn6JFaGmRkOEI/s320/20231111_142313.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>We made a quick stop at the fuel berth to top up our half full diesel tank. The bill for that was a bit of an (albeit not completely unexpected) eye opener. Calstar's 20hp Beta Marine diesel engine was served by a 38 litre fuel tank. Petrella has a 55hp Volvo, with a correspondingly larger 110 litre tank. So she costs more to refuel than my car, although hopefully we won't need to do it as frequently. It's certainly an incentive to sail more!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRY9ToQr8SJ7lkHA3dNqPkOjcVYJVBge0YWQJuG4yS3xQf8OmishqQY_l0SS_X28-UvYuTwjl4YlOhphcgczFv6zgesg-8sQAVlyllVsNpdzytXN8fi_BC41i9fphcvsHjO9Mqg-8DV02-1az2az06G6KZsfvJVTQF3MwV3U9ssqpODCRScYnc0YHAHTQ/s3833/20231111_150002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1725" data-original-width="3833" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRY9ToQr8SJ7lkHA3dNqPkOjcVYJVBge0YWQJuG4yS3xQf8OmishqQY_l0SS_X28-UvYuTwjl4YlOhphcgczFv6zgesg-8sQAVlyllVsNpdzytXN8fi_BC41i9fphcvsHjO9Mqg-8DV02-1az2az06G6KZsfvJVTQF3MwV3U9ssqpODCRScYnc0YHAHTQ/s320/20231111_150002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Watching the harbour seals languorously basking on the marina wave screen in the autumnal sun, we made our way out past the breakwater. Leaving the shelter of the harbour, we turned into the wind and hauled out the sails. The day was benign, with blue sky, calm sea and about 8 to 10 knots of wind blowing in from the south west. We set a course close-hauled for open water in the hope of finding the cleanest air out to sea and were not disappointed. With 10 knots of wind Petrella barely heeled but her big genoa pulled her along very nicely at around 3 to 4 knots over the ground.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzgrsREE2ltoR8R-wJO4PxdGVV7E7yHAP7vnZMD1YWDwDT3uQW24Ci2HZUrXaYvpFP9PtlnJV2LELWMTX9O2gpPjtRTV6W_Ldi4-cewihLu1s7uHNlpzMeWeGTxHIi5hpdy2vE7q1bOd796brvLNQXyfyHheD2y83g9FvUZgMQa53lmB9E8MgTJtaU_o/s4000/20231111_150133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzgrsREE2ltoR8R-wJO4PxdGVV7E7yHAP7vnZMD1YWDwDT3uQW24Ci2HZUrXaYvpFP9PtlnJV2LELWMTX9O2gpPjtRTV6W_Ldi4-cewihLu1s7uHNlpzMeWeGTxHIi5hpdy2vE7q1bOd796brvLNQXyfyHheD2y83g9FvUZgMQa53lmB9E8MgTJtaU_o/s320/20231111_150133.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />With no particular aim or ambition, we tacked back towards Berry Head for no reason other than the last time we were out we'd instead sailed all the way across to the other side of the bay. The sun continued to shine, the sea remained calm, but the wind as we approached the headland did pick up to a very pleasing 11 knots. Under Berry Head, we tacked back again, then bore away onto a reach, the boat speed picking up as we did to occasionally touch more than 5 knots over the ground, helped a little perhaps by the flood tide.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRl7YnAuVLj0zRjv2Kcw4Hugdr9Z4IcGD9bvo-u8aG_o9upDGr47qfXBqX6Ls8In2V3sbKc0IZnFW8M669i7e9cQPvPYXfQYk8YO18015OlA9PUQLQxUHxBmhdykGtHvkwktvC8ulxoXnPUu2GXb08r5l0GH9ozh9pquxmpSHd0dNHhqKOA9_LTqw-Q4/s4000/20231111_150616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRl7YnAuVLj0zRjv2Kcw4Hugdr9Z4IcGD9bvo-u8aG_o9upDGr47qfXBqX6Ls8In2V3sbKc0IZnFW8M669i7e9cQPvPYXfQYk8YO18015OlA9PUQLQxUHxBmhdykGtHvkwktvC8ulxoXnPUu2GXb08r5l0GH9ozh9pquxmpSHd0dNHhqKOA9_LTqw-Q4/s320/20231111_150616.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />To our delight, we were briefly joined by a couple of porpoises. Once they'd fallen astern, hunting their early evening supper and not particularly interested in us, with the sun now lowering over Brixham, we gybed. Heading back towards the harbour, we crossed just ahead of another yacht heading in from the headland and over towards Torquay, sails elegantly goosed wing on wing, and then followed the restored 127 year old Brixham Trawler "<a href="https://pilgrimofbrixham.org.uk/" target="_blank">Pilgrim of Brixham</a>" as she made her way back into harbour ahead of us.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72RorDLeMrSxdUSKTpIrQmjg8TI552GdxbjoE71JwBQtBRGVsQ60IpH3knxWgrb_77RUII3AXc-OkUXP9sdKD5I7vIWuMdRXOrwlSI62lLs7KuoCRJ_PRnDGKEFxhcjg_9kT5W35iWoTjrnC3Qz6kRnB10CObW3vD37Dxsw1K5BlbHeSQQ8QNvnfkNb4/s2988/20231111_150312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1681" data-original-width="2988" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72RorDLeMrSxdUSKTpIrQmjg8TI552GdxbjoE71JwBQtBRGVsQ60IpH3knxWgrb_77RUII3AXc-OkUXP9sdKD5I7vIWuMdRXOrwlSI62lLs7KuoCRJ_PRnDGKEFxhcjg_9kT5W35iWoTjrnC3Qz6kRnB10CObW3vD37Dxsw1K5BlbHeSQQ8QNvnfkNb4/s320/20231111_150312.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The engine started beautifully on command, and dropping the sails was simple and quick in such light conditions. I'm still not convinced by the whole roller-boom arrangement with the main, especially with regards to the reefing options and the way it'll undoubtedly compromise the kicker, but with somebody tailing the main halyard from the cockpit as I wound the sail back onto the boom from the mast, dropping the main was an exceptionally quick, easy and very tidy affair.<p></p><p>So jury remains out.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rX1YromXr6cEYiOGUAEszm3Oi6Rz-igcP3aVsYFIvfU9fuYEO8-1HtBxoCBCmS2Agwje9qpBlweZSESxbEXG80VeGiruBJB02tpP15P6joS68Eej9yP1AxZikTt4vEw0I0_dmlSfH1zdemM_bw1W2unapAbmAUMEP-fEotbmL_ESzJyICUScQagW0h4/s2930/20231111_151250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1318" data-original-width="2930" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rX1YromXr6cEYiOGUAEszm3Oi6Rz-igcP3aVsYFIvfU9fuYEO8-1HtBxoCBCmS2Agwje9qpBlweZSESxbEXG80VeGiruBJB02tpP15P6joS68Eej9yP1AxZikTt4vEw0I0_dmlSfH1zdemM_bw1W2unapAbmAUMEP-fEotbmL_ESzJyICUScQagW0h4/s320/20231111_151250.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We put her back into her berth without mishap, a light wind astern pushing us in but presenting no real complication in the shelter of the marina. As I began the final turn I did, briefly, worry I'd left it too late, but careful handling of the throttle kept just enough rudder authority to bring her bow around and bring her in alongside our finger pontoon, with only a brief twitch of astern to bring her to her final stop and let Mark step off and secure the stern spring.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMrTIPfCoGNXCg7GI2O9EsvGCj_li2xkc5A-3hEOH1D2BCnXlShbQ2szB5QGNtGrYp8VL1C-Zubuwa-ekPxVGeJYV2g92g7PKGAKMxeWm1WJKIl6fvflnaD5rMMsD_FBxVSQFpfwWw97Cy7lfHfp9cK4tSnAFNUT4w2zoDKXTKN2V5rVs8c0r-sSQZXo/s4000/20231111_151255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMrTIPfCoGNXCg7GI2O9EsvGCj_li2xkc5A-3hEOH1D2BCnXlShbQ2szB5QGNtGrYp8VL1C-Zubuwa-ekPxVGeJYV2g92g7PKGAKMxeWm1WJKIl6fvflnaD5rMMsD_FBxVSQFpfwWw97Cy7lfHfp9cK4tSnAFNUT4w2zoDKXTKN2V5rVs8c0r-sSQZXo/s320/20231111_151255.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />As the last of the light faded, we secured her lines and made her safe, putting the cockpit tent back up and reconnecting the shore power, then headed into town for supper at a very nice harbour-side restaurant "<a href="https://simplyfishrestaurant.co.uk/" target="_blank">Simply Fish</a>", just across the road from the pub where we'd spent the evening before. I had the fish soup, which was delicious, but the plain old battered cod and chips that Mark and Amanda both went for looked absolutely magnificent.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrToJPSSt9b_2kNznHt8f8Meu73nrnWnpzEq5wq6KZw2pH3xaWAQxtQ6ipJi9WyrC0nqbptSOI2bqmerFcIMXLvE6sNBuCwZ0TzSrQU9FuU85UnXqnk-HAgUCCWL13UBDr4X4VlwDtrgZEqwAw5Xrxk637rvmfaal6mGbb-g8AqZWKYbZ-GE62ZlzkXc/s3216/20231111_151302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1448" data-original-width="3216" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrToJPSSt9b_2kNznHt8f8Meu73nrnWnpzEq5wq6KZw2pH3xaWAQxtQ6ipJi9WyrC0nqbptSOI2bqmerFcIMXLvE6sNBuCwZ0TzSrQU9FuU85UnXqnk-HAgUCCWL13UBDr4X4VlwDtrgZEqwAw5Xrxk637rvmfaal6mGbb-g8AqZWKYbZ-GE62ZlzkXc/s320/20231111_151302.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The following morning dawned bright, sunny and calm, leaving me to wonder if, perhaps, I'd misjudged the forecast. Then at 1030, the rain settled in, thick and intransigent. The drive home that afternoon was uneventful, but the road conditions quite filthy..<p></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-21449081189054090592023-11-02T12:25:00.001+00:002023-11-02T12:25:35.901+00:00under pressure<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy_QgpIx9bzzzCM-j1Ew1xbwPMVj3oYShwBvrYYJCRUTod2kIp_G2-lZNkn1V8M-ANsGTnvfoZ-ht1VAsUmG7p_5pST9qezu6_Eg2DKSUfcv-IIjnFJbTCjnChszWkxvN4gzFzfmKyI6vGCEKGTZ-AvufpZ7g2gfs3z4bT1CxhSxIC9oEvVUGDILhFlo0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="2559" height="122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy_QgpIx9bzzzCM-j1Ew1xbwPMVj3oYShwBvrYYJCRUTod2kIp_G2-lZNkn1V8M-ANsGTnvfoZ-ht1VAsUmG7p_5pST9qezu6_Eg2DKSUfcv-IIjnFJbTCjnChszWkxvN4gzFzfmKyI6vGCEKGTZ-AvufpZ7g2gfs3z4bT1CxhSxIC9oEvVUGDILhFlo0" width="320" /></a></div><br />I was vaguely disturbed twice yesterday evening by an unexpected buzz on my wrist and a message that flashed up on my watch saying "Storm alert". In the five years I've owned this watch I don't think it's ever done that before. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNrNot8Rl7Gy0bRbNiO78hPB3wICEVp6avWS7m28xKKuXcXxFVqwbnHKiYYdX7AO-IFlrv1x6Se4nRM7FAo47srMeqbiOvxJMYR2PE7K_Hl-0Yxp7Ak0XXC4OLHYdVhSzvf0E2DvoxTC2lTuMn2dwTmTSmZlqHe14jcPOU9x6_nhM-ZdUKh-xM6Bj78vo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1297" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNrNot8Rl7Gy0bRbNiO78hPB3wICEVp6avWS7m28xKKuXcXxFVqwbnHKiYYdX7AO-IFlrv1x6Se4nRM7FAo47srMeqbiOvxJMYR2PE7K_Hl-0Yxp7Ak0XXC4OLHYdVhSzvf0E2DvoxTC2lTuMn2dwTmTSmZlqHe14jcPOU9x6_nhM-ZdUKh-xM6Bj78vo" width="320" /></a></div><br />I checked the settings on the barometer and, apparently, it's set to trigger the alert if the pressure drops 4mb or more in a 3 hour period.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4zJfZ7AR8xMNXAO_j4jIP20a9bkI5eHb-Rq9pFb6RGl23rj8VoLaSlCGguPZD7inI6QdDk8AhmO19Gp6xuZ-Yy2CL5o8IVT9-LOO6PvBeM7WDRUrJZboSzJaiX4X254CHNtV0ikZg0W4MIIISNt2koyECKuWiqbp-ff1mYtEJJSK8LL9-TQyDlNWEc5E" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="301" data-original-width="1165" height="83" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4zJfZ7AR8xMNXAO_j4jIP20a9bkI5eHb-Rq9pFb6RGl23rj8VoLaSlCGguPZD7inI6QdDk8AhmO19Gp6xuZ-Yy2CL5o8IVT9-LOO6PvBeM7WDRUrJZboSzJaiX4X254CHNtV0ikZg0W4MIIISNt2koyECKuWiqbp-ff1mYtEJJSK8LL9-TQyDlNWEc5E" width="320" /></a></div><br />I tried to check the various Brixham webcams first thing this morning, but until a few minutes ago, they were down, presumably as a result of what was essentially the equivalent of a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denial-of-service_attack" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">DDoS</a> attack from a collective of concerned boat owners all trying to check on conditions in the harbour.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnzWLyP_u2DDoF6DcJcXbBqB3nPr21mMuifHAfM4kez-H9nFe4LNmoh872-tvtr_tsO3oKlivMJeKXDe-wGPBXO1xS-Iw8dc8X0GLq0jVydqzfn2ZKk-dK48xubyYKv1Eo6TluOc5us4QGTwryXVg6hUQ9CDrLBMt_XvQWNuyrpRZY-j6fFFbF_n_cXBE/s2560/_scrn002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="2560" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnzWLyP_u2DDoF6DcJcXbBqB3nPr21mMuifHAfM4kez-H9nFe4LNmoh872-tvtr_tsO3oKlivMJeKXDe-wGPBXO1xS-Iw8dc8X0GLq0jVydqzfn2ZKk-dK48xubyYKv1Eo6TluOc5us4QGTwryXVg6hUQ9CDrLBMt_XvQWNuyrpRZY-j6fFFbF_n_cXBE/s320/_scrn002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I did a few minutes ago finally (and briefly) get access to the camera overlooking the marina, and all looks well; as expected, the wind is coming in over the headland, so the sea is blowing out of Torbay rather than into it. So situation pretty much normal, except all the trawlers are, understandably, packed like sardines into their own harbour.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPXwAhY_5hMesU8zH83y3CaKflhG8YnxSQLsbrCUxvTygPm4toKx9SAXyR_HQ2HJQ26FDLzSzO6Q_W0hmNH306m4TqZK2TFlnDqzGEcJ83gPsRCefWzlZKpHNZNoVUnO5wThPPEjIrs8REgplAUU41zy07iGF-AV5VH3TljeSudmecGmcWc-wW4akltAI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1297" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPXwAhY_5hMesU8zH83y3CaKflhG8YnxSQLsbrCUxvTygPm4toKx9SAXyR_HQ2HJQ26FDLzSzO6Q_W0hmNH306m4TqZK2TFlnDqzGEcJ83gPsRCefWzlZKpHNZNoVUnO5wThPPEjIrs8REgplAUU41zy07iGF-AV5VH3TljeSudmecGmcWc-wW4akltAI" width="320" /></a></div><br />On the home front, the worst of it seems to have blown through overnight, though the day remains grotty outside; about 10°C, persistent rain, grey skies, and a blustery autumnal breeze. Could've been a lovely day for playing with the Laser (albeit with the Radial rigged) on the lake if I didn't have other commitments.<p></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-43096894371159521162023-10-31T13:33:00.001+00:002023-10-31T23:59:18.261+00:00Petrella: accidental selfie<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLIjqBIBSU9orrdtdp0-DQEMjl4xKD0A3DZwD75VnkriM4uO04jWAwOMWtt1NucScqitfIxMcnL7RmgS2aAFjWMa6XkoLOlt1JxIeWdxOU66Lx3JzQ51TDnKb0sj8fytB3Sou4Wl0UBQ74D5eYjg1a6AoCRCHd3ayaa1TwKKGbXW8gWwb017JtuW49zYg/s3216/20231026_103640.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1448" data-original-width="3216" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLIjqBIBSU9orrdtdp0-DQEMjl4xKD0A3DZwD75VnkriM4uO04jWAwOMWtt1NucScqitfIxMcnL7RmgS2aAFjWMa6XkoLOlt1JxIeWdxOU66Lx3JzQ51TDnKb0sj8fytB3Sou4Wl0UBQ74D5eYjg1a6AoCRCHd3ayaa1TwKKGbXW8gWwb017JtuW49zYg/s320/20231026_103640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Scrolling back through my photos of the last couple of weeks and this one made me chuckle. It was unintentional; I was trying to catch a quick, surreptitious snap of my wife, Nikki, and my Dad, sat opposite me, enjoying breakfast at a café in Brixham overlooking the breakwater, beach and (the then) tranquil waters of Torbay. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEQXCw0X54TuU6Oh4_Gg_nGYvSku5P8fQRjkA6Gd44K5DW7d__k23mLrgGXnjJztkwRIhMAjFhbzyNvtxLDoMh0bCrxpgFmNrQY-MhnLXUtF6uK5KjANXWLWim6nLGQoEABthzXeHSQlLOi2WJy3HLJ2nnlzmRrv3vdWwrHq3bbENpDASNGOtAVSCdLw/s4000/20231024_194601.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEQXCw0X54TuU6Oh4_Gg_nGYvSku5P8fQRjkA6Gd44K5DW7d__k23mLrgGXnjJztkwRIhMAjFhbzyNvtxLDoMh0bCrxpgFmNrQY-MhnLXUtF6uK5KjANXWLWim6nLGQoEABthzXeHSQlLOi2WJy3HLJ2nnlzmRrv3vdWwrHq3bbENpDASNGOtAVSCdLw/s320/20231024_194601.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It's an easy mistake: you double click the button on a locked Android phone to open the camera, but once the camera is open, a double click then becomes the shortcut for switching between the rear and front facing cameras. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAJTJprhP_1zhA7Vpi01_NU4f3RB81hZ9sZQTHsiE-6nMOSZugzOkg7xs_w1AOkhYg8xTxlPl4Exry6p3Gz2yRUpuw058zxrDmOMJQ-TK76kNZnOOIUpMuOqG5_tN_N0Y6rtD6cDy1tKBjpnFN-RZgxpKNH4w-Rj8OcZr4YEcqlHQabVdt52UYYbVsy4/s4000/20231024_174310.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAJTJprhP_1zhA7Vpi01_NU4f3RB81hZ9sZQTHsiE-6nMOSZugzOkg7xs_w1AOkhYg8xTxlPl4Exry6p3Gz2yRUpuw058zxrDmOMJQ-TK76kNZnOOIUpMuOqG5_tN_N0Y6rtD6cDy1tKBjpnFN-RZgxpKNH4w-Rj8OcZr4YEcqlHQabVdt52UYYbVsy4/s320/20231024_174310.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We spent five very pleasant days aboard Petrella last week. The weather was too patchy to go anywhere, so we took Lottie down with us and concentrated on the various odd jobs that needed doing rather than taking the chance to sail. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyP_NXd2DZyUO_WxsPVL08mIwtBfjKqRU3fgkO7QzhapbWGaIVsubR6YDc6YI9xl7ioiHUqRhmbelKHF1q93vwXjJTIDH1r9GL41mUa3TS-ABmuLjNiIXOnBrV7A0Ai_LCnlqZOxXcySsguwek0xbtGt6C2vNmihGTg5__HjtKGCogvJoO90zMcK2rGbg/s4000/20231022_233829.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyP_NXd2DZyUO_WxsPVL08mIwtBfjKqRU3fgkO7QzhapbWGaIVsubR6YDc6YI9xl7ioiHUqRhmbelKHF1q93vwXjJTIDH1r9GL41mUa3TS-ABmuLjNiIXOnBrV7A0Ai_LCnlqZOxXcySsguwek0xbtGt6C2vNmihGTg5__HjtKGCogvJoO90zMcK2rGbg/s320/20231022_233829.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Lottie is taking to boat life very well. Well, marina life, anyway. She seems perfectly content to be wherever we are. But away from the comforts and convenience of the marina, jury is still out as to how well we'd manage it. We've mastered getting on and off from alongside a pontoon, but I'm not sure how she'd cope with our tender if we didn't have that luxury. Or how the tender would cope with her.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLx3szB7OXi7z_QLVjbeUcxQdo9OrWYbUnJS-El4jNeQpFe8bh_lrdZi29ewcEFuCD8f6sUApk5KIiFtOcoNkqnIbMhcNs84CONiWVlr0criMXE71wWfAaajNvh3Bf0wLfBDO4b_-g88Fk8QWr-1Ji7CyWHR5AJVmdc7berhCvVTqy50BZaqCxvr10SRk/s4000/20231024_080049.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLx3szB7OXi7z_QLVjbeUcxQdo9OrWYbUnJS-El4jNeQpFe8bh_lrdZi29ewcEFuCD8f6sUApk5KIiFtOcoNkqnIbMhcNs84CONiWVlr0criMXE71wWfAaajNvh3Bf0wLfBDO4b_-g88Fk8QWr-1Ji7CyWHR5AJVmdc7berhCvVTqy50BZaqCxvr10SRk/s320/20231024_080049.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />With regards to getting on and off in the marina though, the first couple of days were a struggle. Basically, I'd pick her up and put her over my shoulder when embarking or disembarking. She tolerated it, but didn't enjoy it. And, to be fair, it's an undignified and perilous way to get on and off a boat for a 32kg German Shepherd and her human.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGIfyY5eoBeXBKUo4eUyRITUbIaU9kfjiI6dxntg1wB5VQuMpR9-eFR1WkNxyTmKTswM-8QAPd4XPFUF0l4D2grPXlrBgtCPrkwk_3DCpNtdq5cFGYsKdYtxCmz_k9vYwtw1_GHXuL0QOkcbullwJUBDeQcMHGAG_s-efaqxc3Vn5TpKDRotuPv7ZQxY/s4000/20231022_221029.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGIfyY5eoBeXBKUo4eUyRITUbIaU9kfjiI6dxntg1wB5VQuMpR9-eFR1WkNxyTmKTswM-8QAPd4XPFUF0l4D2grPXlrBgtCPrkwk_3DCpNtdq5cFGYsKdYtxCmz_k9vYwtw1_GHXuL0QOkcbullwJUBDeQcMHGAG_s-efaqxc3Vn5TpKDRotuPv7ZQxY/s320/20231022_221029.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Petrella has a couple of meters of freeboard. And lacking a gate that a lot of the more modern boats of her size have, getting on or off requires climbing over the guard wires, typically using the shroud as a hand hold. And with one hand supporting the dog over my shoulder leaving only one hand for the shroud, by the end of day two it was becoming a little undignified and perilous for me as well.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmeRBf92az6B0uHuqQnTjtG6EHTDMkBFtDAKkBYrFzA4n4ZebkWlpXPuJagBFQzdEQRgn2NTbU1ZhYw6TgxHR65qGR2psj06Po2KfbduLEYKdcYZPaQdwcnaTBlclhyphenhyphenCrSmi0xcxVaSOpFEM0FMrJsc9hmloMzDII7LkJqMF6fP14AwASX4GWlbcfeTqI/s4000/20231023_121356.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmeRBf92az6B0uHuqQnTjtG6EHTDMkBFtDAKkBYrFzA4n4ZebkWlpXPuJagBFQzdEQRgn2NTbU1ZhYw6TgxHR65qGR2psj06Po2KfbduLEYKdcYZPaQdwcnaTBlclhyphenhyphenCrSmi0xcxVaSOpFEM0FMrJsc9hmloMzDII7LkJqMF6fP14AwASX4GWlbcfeTqI/s320/20231023_121356.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The answer was obvious. I released the lower of the two guard wires, and once out of the way, Lottie was able to hope on and off under the top wire without any difficulty. So I need to be able to tension and secure the lower guard wire when we're at sea and underway, but need to come up with some kind of system where I can easily relax and release it when we're in the marina.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxKs9OGNElpjrLsxv526CdI9vNtitSEbo2FAH4TtxvZCvL6HP3CqDrngvGqiulcLTnIXwnoLIM_lAbXGJfsYUDMbNHDBqIKpn1m0taPwUaFt-IAVugeFKgVUYjmK4bNyCMDTXgCzpE34yArtZTr7iXh_01q5AQfRzAeD-otx2qgmHEv3IFjDrBoiX4PA/s4000/20231023_231543.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxKs9OGNElpjrLsxv526CdI9vNtitSEbo2FAH4TtxvZCvL6HP3CqDrngvGqiulcLTnIXwnoLIM_lAbXGJfsYUDMbNHDBqIKpn1m0taPwUaFt-IAVugeFKgVUYjmK4bNyCMDTXgCzpE34yArtZTr7iXh_01q5AQfRzAeD-otx2qgmHEv3IFjDrBoiX4PA/s320/20231023_231543.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Five days in Brixham gave us plenty of time to get a few other jobs done on the boat. We removed and replaced a rusted, seized shackle at the foot of the mast that's the fixing point for the kicker. That required judicious use of the Dremel to grind through it. We also drilled a hole through the anchor that let us then pin it with a 10mm drop-nose pin securely on the bow roller, where it was previously only lashed. That also has the advantage of now keeping the tip of the 20kg Rocna a few mm clear of the bow, where before it was actually connecting and damaging the gel coat.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Mu6FYfVbWDWvqH1Ql5ODBme62qoh0AviaeMOVl0TrHpVw9iJDoL9udZQzZdtoa5tExR95aJjPoQMIUM0nahPLx0cOxqYcp4iA1ByxnpVX_TvQq3-ZGkBxloZYpeHVeRlv7k1Y40DaooWvrlRz88WRNPxZYyPeWP7nQEJQIigMhlyZ165BdVBxuxdcKQ/s4000/20231025_181557.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Mu6FYfVbWDWvqH1Ql5ODBme62qoh0AviaeMOVl0TrHpVw9iJDoL9udZQzZdtoa5tExR95aJjPoQMIUM0nahPLx0cOxqYcp4iA1ByxnpVX_TvQq3-ZGkBxloZYpeHVeRlv7k1Y40DaooWvrlRz88WRNPxZYyPeWP7nQEJQIigMhlyZ165BdVBxuxdcKQ/s320/20231025_181557.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We also re-fitted the handle of the oven door, a "five minute job" that, unsurprisingly, kept Dad busy and entertained for the best part of a morning and afternoon. And we now have a pocket for a winch handle fitted in the cockpit. We also had the chance to have an engineer give the engine a once over. We're satisfied that the coolant warning light we saw previously was a consequence of my misconfiguring the batteries, and the shudder when we change transmission is perfectly normal; it's just the drive plate engaging.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy021A0ZJXxoOvz7KSVcRKjNcDHdhYoz0H9PY3_-9qJSvoajeOvjYfhz3eK1Gc12BxtYEqKGBhFQTZsxwQDMwno2-FHksRHWpL4UMIiZembqEdZjTvV5EimXitpk1cpporGCxLigCED0H_iYxxdxcqv0apVsYmHCaz1UrpO4PT8zgblVhPa_00ZJXzdNo/s4000/20231025_181446.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy021A0ZJXxoOvz7KSVcRKjNcDHdhYoz0H9PY3_-9qJSvoajeOvjYfhz3eK1Gc12BxtYEqKGBhFQTZsxwQDMwno2-FHksRHWpL4UMIiZembqEdZjTvV5EimXitpk1cpporGCxLigCED0H_iYxxdxcqv0apVsYmHCaz1UrpO4PT8zgblVhPa_00ZJXzdNo/s320/20231025_181446.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Other than that, the engine runs sweet and was given a clean bill of health. We are going to get her booked in for a service, however.<p></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-17153826625069330492023-10-31T13:04:00.000+00:002023-10-31T13:04:06.454+00:00Petrella: pretty colours<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5Lwfe14JsvgWMzghipcumdCTcE5nQPpWROkzMqeJgwp6yUiXZjbQgsWU9C6_Ekl3G3DRDb9cFpSgy9YcL7KRQTVm1mw3t9qTpVUpiQVy6KTaheAjr7dV-4A4beu0m9SodREOTAi06fTKia9dfbmTryWr_0FxJpSMdkiWynIgMquTSR70_ZOoVl9twMX0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="935" data-original-width="2141" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5Lwfe14JsvgWMzghipcumdCTcE5nQPpWROkzMqeJgwp6yUiXZjbQgsWU9C6_Ekl3G3DRDb9cFpSgy9YcL7KRQTVm1mw3t9qTpVUpiQVy6KTaheAjr7dV-4A4beu0m9SodREOTAi06fTKia9dfbmTryWr_0FxJpSMdkiWynIgMquTSR70_ZOoVl9twMX0" width="320" /></a></div><br />Just had a call from Dad, worrying about the boat and the forecast for the week. It's one of those weeks when I'm very happy she's in a marina, both for the shelter and the fact that you know somebody will be keeping an eye on things. Weather, of which there is a lot of at the moment, looks like it's going to peak late Wednesday, early Thursday. Happily, the wind direction all stays in the south and west, so we should get plenty of cover from the headland and breakwater.<p></p><p>I was going to race the Albacore with Amanda at South Cerney this weekend coming, then head back down to Brixham the following weekend; Dad will be away, but my mate Mark and our mutual friend (another) Amanda are around, so I'll have crew and the possibility of a sail, if the weather looks kind once all this muck blows through.</p><p>My ambition is to get to the point where I'm perfectly happy taking Petrella in and out of her berth single-handed. But for now, if the offer of crew is available, I'd be silly not to take advantage of it.</p><p>Complete aside; last week I watched an elderly gentleman shortening up lines and preparing a spring on his gorgeous 37' Hallberg-Rassy, berthed opposite us. A shock of white hair and that careful, considered posture and gait that comes from, well, long experience, I'd guess he was Dad's age, or a little bit older, and of similar mobility. I offered to hold a line for him if it was of any help, though observed he was obviously very practiced and clearly had everything under control. He cheerfully declined, as I expected he would, saying he always sailed single-handed and had done this a thousand times before.</p><p>So I just watched as he powered gently ahead on an aft spring set up from his midships cleat to the cleat on the end of the the finger pontoon, and released his bow and stern lines. The boat held snug to the pontoon against the spring.</p><p>Then he clicked the gear into neutral to take the weight off the spring, lifted the spring off the pontoon cleat and went astern to back out of his berth. All text-book and beautifully done. I did compulsively think "cheat" as I heard the buzz of a bow-thruster briefly engaged to correct the drift of his bow towards his neighbour caused, I guess, from the initial prop-walk, but in fairness, it was a perfect demonstration of how much and how to to use a bow thruster if you happen to have the advantage of one.</p><p>Anyway, I am planning to race at the Lake this Sunday coming, but if the weather's really rotten I might instead take a trip down to Brixham with Lottie just to check on Petrella.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-3141171472612499492023-10-18T10:34:00.001+01:002023-10-18T10:34:26.514+01:00Petrella: Webcam<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg19mQF8h-52MczQYqRj94YpjCalcXsNLv2WiktrbowIpgSBeiCEZo5jMrBhOnlWDPgCv7LEqRC0G0rM80aZ_HcvsonQUK26-RyyrvgrLosPoj4p6ptNmw0J6uWw71fSq3IvQZixYMy0BK6AwQO7yBZWQXNPWZcvXSrR9mYpRAi82xtBVzOVKs4JihiG3k" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="709" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg19mQF8h-52MczQYqRj94YpjCalcXsNLv2WiktrbowIpgSBeiCEZo5jMrBhOnlWDPgCv7LEqRC0G0rM80aZ_HcvsonQUK26-RyyrvgrLosPoj4p6ptNmw0J6uWw71fSq3IvQZixYMy0BK6AwQO7yBZWQXNPWZcvXSrR9mYpRAi82xtBVzOVKs4JihiG3k" width="320" /></a></div><br />A day for sitting ashore wishing you could be out there, rather than out there wishing you could be safe ashore. To my delight, have found a webcam overlooking Brixham Marina. I can actually see Petrella when it pans to the marina view. The lateral pontoons are assigned A, B, C, D, etc. Berth numbering is from right to left. We're on D09.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPWoSKc1tink8oUfTGD0gv0PYQq7npOWeMQ2NicKPvJBA5FmjkeA41mGx6xj5ySJT7mZBtGpsB7k2lju30VmXiqrdTIQ_O_-CLL2nSJmztP20Prv3G38Tb4ObwMzVfGGN0ILolczs5Xt6HEEnc5znSosMZv5lSsco8hB3aOIipUFGbGlTTLvyhjiGCXY/s2560/_scrn004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="2560" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPWoSKc1tink8oUfTGD0gv0PYQq7npOWeMQ2NicKPvJBA5FmjkeA41mGx6xj5ySJT7mZBtGpsB7k2lju30VmXiqrdTIQ_O_-CLL2nSJmztP20Prv3G38Tb4ObwMzVfGGN0ILolczs5Xt6HEEnc5znSosMZv5lSsco8hB3aOIipUFGbGlTTLvyhjiGCXY/s320/_scrn004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://www.seatang-guesthouse.com/live-brixham-webcam/" target="_blank">Sea Tang Guest House Webcam</a></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-23878615017853062522023-10-16T17:19:00.000+01:002023-10-16T17:19:06.905+01:00Petrella: First date<p>It would have been Mum's 75th birthday yesterday. It passed unremarked, although she is obviously not unremembered. Dad and I went sailing. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMqzgTNoG_KDsB0eJO743AZalHzfl1MLmceSPoxscxgxQ5vMuzClCY5UrxYbQuMMZ_vmCUNCP4B7_zFLGaET1XgjEMzRjKR1Dqmdl5p_aK1FvSCj1zGz45gbuLXd22N4OH0xngPBZ0uDDr96qzYcLqNT88IYblS74Q6XG3n8Md2DBbCatiqoRzln9egc/s4000/20231015_170251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMqzgTNoG_KDsB0eJO743AZalHzfl1MLmceSPoxscxgxQ5vMuzClCY5UrxYbQuMMZ_vmCUNCP4B7_zFLGaET1XgjEMzRjKR1Dqmdl5p_aK1FvSCj1zGz45gbuLXd22N4OH0xngPBZ0uDDr96qzYcLqNT88IYblS74Q6XG3n8Md2DBbCatiqoRzln9egc/s320/20231015_170251.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We were joined by our mate, Mark Wiltshire, back from his travels around Turkey and Greece with the yacht "Amore", the lovely Hans 415 that I spent four weeks on with him last year. Aside from the pleasure of catching up with him and the obvious advantage of having an extra set of able bodied hands to handle lines, a pleasant forecast and an old friend aboard made it very hard to find any further excuse not to finally slip Petrella's lines and take her out for our first sail.<p></p><p>So we did just that. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynIDrdW14hbkcFFu0-I71uURkgiZysGW6G4B0STb76bcAOsQkCuLI6qYC5hIlGvUA65_ABF89TVMsfS8sNa2icL4mUT-jeMX86xQstbCUPvZvMrWoL7m-gNjD_8PDyyrpvlvkHGPOalzF4ynF1121xjENsxhkwrCT1a95FqMNc9MFugl8ZU5JWe2qfJw/s3681/20231015_072725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1656" data-original-width="3681" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynIDrdW14hbkcFFu0-I71uURkgiZysGW6G4B0STb76bcAOsQkCuLI6qYC5hIlGvUA65_ABF89TVMsfS8sNa2icL4mUT-jeMX86xQstbCUPvZvMrWoL7m-gNjD_8PDyyrpvlvkHGPOalzF4ynF1121xjENsxhkwrCT1a95FqMNc9MFugl8ZU5JWe2qfJw/s320/20231015_072725.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Dad and I arrived in Brixham for 0930 Sunday morning, having enjoyed an easy trip down of about two and a half hours to reach the boat. Mark joined us not much after that, and we all adjourned to the nearby beachside <a href="https://www.brixham-restaurant.co.uk/breakwater-bistro/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Breakwater Coffee Shop</a> for breakfast.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvI98q8jg_w1zWZ0ymhcEzLf95OYt4MEsUeYQsjMWTRTs9XoCfD60xCMjRs-ZhAUMIPneIzvd5__pKxlamaltLXArv_W20PA_y54G79pezSjh-Hky1kcU3o9FiaJHfQ9R_qQs0StZIsLjcOiBKc6zOGUgX22PcOy2AKKuwhhXHkZZB143EqA8QYi2WWE/s2853/20231015_114808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1283" data-original-width="2853" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvI98q8jg_w1zWZ0ymhcEzLf95OYt4MEsUeYQsjMWTRTs9XoCfD60xCMjRs-ZhAUMIPneIzvd5__pKxlamaltLXArv_W20PA_y54G79pezSjh-Hky1kcU3o9FiaJHfQ9R_qQs0StZIsLjcOiBKc6zOGUgX22PcOy2AKKuwhhXHkZZB143EqA8QYi2WWE/s320/20231015_114808.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />A northerly 9 knots was forecast, with broken sunshine and and around 11°C, so we anticipated a bit of a chilly afternoon. But the cloud was slow to fill in, so the day felt surprisingly warm in the autumnal sunshine.<p></p><p>After a lazy start, showing Mark around the boat and catching up on things, we slipped our lines a little before 1300. As I backed her gently out of the berth, the wind and prop-walk conspired to push us towards our neighbour, so Dad stood by with a spare fender, just in case.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsjwivMTI2FEFHyMjrUHXgt0GcWLwyoOgagbvtJQGw7i3-wx9WCUEDM0Cm8s6Hk1AeP6Q4dYDy8ES6yuXE5PtMtkul72uQClG-bsYJbcIf1x2ydro1yJKhGyjaJbo6_HSNHvZGlTjzdkmAv46K1aqwbk2OB6CAS97baZPNkNRfTLaYIx6OH18a0HI7VE/s3781/20231015_130344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1701" data-original-width="3781" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsjwivMTI2FEFHyMjrUHXgt0GcWLwyoOgagbvtJQGw7i3-wx9WCUEDM0Cm8s6Hk1AeP6Q4dYDy8ES6yuXE5PtMtkul72uQClG-bsYJbcIf1x2ydro1yJKhGyjaJbo6_HSNHvZGlTjzdkmAv46K1aqwbk2OB6CAS97baZPNkNRfTLaYIx6OH18a0HI7VE/s320/20231015_130344.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />At the helm, I felt the slightest tickle of nerves as she pulled out of her berth and her bows finally cleared; although there was never less than half a foot between our hull and the boat next to us. I took her back down the aisle astern, unsure if the breeze and prop-walk would let me turn her to face bows out in the space available. Once out into the fairway, it was a simple enough manoeuvre to then turn her around in the extra clear space we found there then nose out of the marina's exit<p></p><p>Out into the main harbour, Mark pulled in the fenders and stowed our lines as I guided Petrella down towards the end of the breakwater and the bay beyond.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXM1-_wAayjOXrKSTbA9SLjr6YnokDLBz7snQBIqOZ9GzWl5iCQ1Qw1NTXO2bL8k3ZRZZ0KrJmY627siZDdk9rU98AkE0x3pgcUqupsZv0y1d1dzHwjg-d87irp7F9Re2sXSNPkbjgnQeOlAdHUiIFogom9sn9f17VTTK9HmIz9H5eylwGnnwBwueVbZk/s4000/20231015_134307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXM1-_wAayjOXrKSTbA9SLjr6YnokDLBz7snQBIqOZ9GzWl5iCQ1Qw1NTXO2bL8k3ZRZZ0KrJmY627siZDdk9rU98AkE0x3pgcUqupsZv0y1d1dzHwjg-d87irp7F9Re2sXSNPkbjgnQeOlAdHUiIFogom9sn9f17VTTK9HmIz9H5eylwGnnwBwueVbZk/s320/20231015_134307.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Clear of Brixham, we turned head to wind. Mark briefly took over the helm to hold her steady whilst I made my way to the mast to haul up the mainsail. The sail went up quickly and painlessly. We had a bit of initial trouble setting the main when I mistook the spinnaker halyard for the topping lift, but once I'd realised my mistake and released the right line, the sail set beautifully. By 1315, we'd stilled the engine and were under sail.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypSLo-iWEVg5uju5qLLCOGQZreR6eB9OhOKNbzKlCGUZ7prXwuOUJ1nn4UN14cz6C5Ly-rgY5ISY2l7PC_ZEBv2a3skXsKK914iIE2rxMfpKcK1cyQH8cjKVhcFVi_BIQY_H4gIivS35Ql6Irh80f9Yc7M5z7wl55KFk3NX0YYb8lKS539BxHORZWkIU/s3833/20231015_135705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1725" data-original-width="3833" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypSLo-iWEVg5uju5qLLCOGQZreR6eB9OhOKNbzKlCGUZ7prXwuOUJ1nn4UN14cz6C5Ly-rgY5ISY2l7PC_ZEBv2a3skXsKK914iIE2rxMfpKcK1cyQH8cjKVhcFVi_BIQY_H4gIivS35Ql6Irh80f9Yc7M5z7wl55KFk3NX0YYb8lKS539BxHORZWkIU/s320/20231015_135705.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Beneath the lightly hazed sky, the blue waters of Torbay glittered, a small swell ruffled by the light wind pushing in over the far shore. We were set more or less close hauled on a starboard tack. I'd misjudged the position of the fairleads, leaving the working fairlead set much to far forward, so our progress and ability to point was hampered by a headsail with too much body and too tight a leech, but I set the starboard fairlead all the way back in anticipation of correcting the problem when we finally tacked.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNXV1VvuLfo6SaG4z8BV8lAQjcIzhN6aPHSxBJn-MZjL7SCSvBKxmHV2QkXsRXvjZW8yzSNRYsCGv0joFJp9kLpkgyTi9WRyOgh1CwXWjfb7660dOSV4Y4g8v6uluHktJe3RtwAgnZKiKnXf6QLEygwImYlzQu8LeU9d97lcG082U86IfkF8nDqdGGog/s4000/20231015_140749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNXV1VvuLfo6SaG4z8BV8lAQjcIzhN6aPHSxBJn-MZjL7SCSvBKxmHV2QkXsRXvjZW8yzSNRYsCGv0joFJp9kLpkgyTi9WRyOgh1CwXWjfb7660dOSV4Y4g8v6uluHktJe3RtwAgnZKiKnXf6QLEygwImYlzQu8LeU9d97lcG082U86IfkF8nDqdGGog/s320/20231015_140749.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />With 7 or 8 knots of wind, Petrella tickled along quite happily at around two and a half knots. In such light air we'd have needed the engine if we'd wanted to get anywhere in any reasonable time, but with no aim other than to sail and no destination in mind we were perfectly content.<p></p><p>Actually, more than that. I don't think Dad stopped grinning once.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkhyAIpO-iBc87Wib-BUdwpyBX8tzAG-6-HksheUbASI82IU_soB-KJMH4m-vzm-y739c7YrPD2wEGCeJqnIbvMHI2lPoaobOfwFVVpe7MiNfHg4TG4wezX-6umJ7wWPhtuP5cnMI_HoPu0qZ6scB9TRE79sCDut_NdrRyaW3gmNLWc7STNJ6oopMK4g/s4000/20231015_140751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkhyAIpO-iBc87Wib-BUdwpyBX8tzAG-6-HksheUbASI82IU_soB-KJMH4m-vzm-y739c7YrPD2wEGCeJqnIbvMHI2lPoaobOfwFVVpe7MiNfHg4TG4wezX-6umJ7wWPhtuP5cnMI_HoPu0qZ6scB9TRE79sCDut_NdrRyaW3gmNLWc7STNJ6oopMK4g/s320/20231015_140751.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Approaching Torquay, we tacked before we lost all wind in the shadow of the windward shore. I took the easy job at the helm, Dad released the port jib sheets as we passed through the wind, and Mark hauled in on the new working sheet to starboard then Dad tailing the sheet for him as he ground in the last of the headsail on the winch to set us on our new tack.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6iraPuLLtFN_clreEnu1HWOnQIIYaI03X7l7nxWOZcAJ-45NMfPNIzpj4-Ytu2NsRzp72S2y0QDnfIxTqYS3yQ7vF7HMP-M_jTEPoxWlodSGdjXwpoZmZFh6nyfA0Lp0ivfXgbpreVJsEbMmhZPYymOF3Wc00eHdHEWutkrZ73wOmZg3FsleGZIhjrmw/s4000/20231015_141149-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6iraPuLLtFN_clreEnu1HWOnQIIYaI03X7l7nxWOZcAJ-45NMfPNIzpj4-Ytu2NsRzp72S2y0QDnfIxTqYS3yQ7vF7HMP-M_jTEPoxWlodSGdjXwpoZmZFh6nyfA0Lp0ivfXgbpreVJsEbMmhZPYymOF3Wc00eHdHEWutkrZ73wOmZg3FsleGZIhjrmw/s320/20231015_141149-EDIT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />One day I might replace the old traditional winches with a pair of self-tailing winches. But second hand on eBay a pair are sitting with a current bid of £800, and new they cost over £1k each. So it's not a priority for the near future.<p></p><p>I thought converting the rolling boom to slab reefing might be, but jury's currently out on that one, too.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkIsQxIJESwtiiYjyxvRBhRCgDnMO45XHinT1raEVFeXRhfX_shJ8_sMWWX6X3F8A4A2WSGJ8PqpWA6CQzVxyMRf96tjOP50WsKfkqk1-xYXKrMzWelDJ95VGMJcYAJ99Kqfu5_itkbXPZ5nprmdresuHvvfyY2hbMPcwINb2ln77zeDMxgIdb-bNDiA/s4000/20231015_140945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkIsQxIJESwtiiYjyxvRBhRCgDnMO45XHinT1raEVFeXRhfX_shJ8_sMWWX6X3F8A4A2WSGJ8PqpWA6CQzVxyMRf96tjOP50WsKfkqk1-xYXKrMzWelDJ95VGMJcYAJ99Kqfu5_itkbXPZ5nprmdresuHvvfyY2hbMPcwINb2ln77zeDMxgIdb-bNDiA/s320/20231015_140945.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Now pointing out to sea, with clearer air the breeze picked up by a knot or two. With her headsail now set properly, with 10 knots of wind she occasionally touched 4.5 knots of speed over the ground, making easy work of the light chop in the bay.<p></p><p>A little before 1500, now closing back in on the Brixham shore, we furled the headsail, restarted the engine and turned her head to wind to lower the main. The mainsail came down neatly and easily as I rolled the boom with the winch handle, feeding the halyard over the winch drum to control the speed of the fall. I'm still not convinced we will keep the arrangement, but can easily see why all three generations of past owners were so fond of it.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AzSGvH252Ab-b1fJ_5vZZviZD7fCyWIDKDwBbkSemiQma7EHpGwpIKpaR3SIBxxp7aLVFz8-U0N5NaKAnBzZRqENE2jvCjBJ9dGFKdc1Rw4CDMj4FnFG8-Yi7vEH4_NlRUhLVHBA0wyhsUeHy9zdjm4T7DwoOryDYqwCwDj4XA6LttEkeL6UpoZG6H8/s3393/20231015_141630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1527" data-original-width="3393" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AzSGvH252Ab-b1fJ_5vZZviZD7fCyWIDKDwBbkSemiQma7EHpGwpIKpaR3SIBxxp7aLVFz8-U0N5NaKAnBzZRqENE2jvCjBJ9dGFKdc1Rw4CDMj4FnFG8-Yi7vEH4_NlRUhLVHBA0wyhsUeHy9zdjm4T7DwoOryDYqwCwDj4XA6LttEkeL6UpoZG6H8/s320/20231015_141630.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Back at the helm, boat under power, we approached the end of Brixham's breakwater. As Mark set about deploying the fenders, I knocked the engine down to tick-over to make life a little easier for him as he scrambled about the deck. A few moments later, an engine alarm sounded.<p></p><p>Knocking the engine in to neutral, I checked the LCD on the engine panel, and could see what looked like a coolant heating warning showing. I silenced the alarm. The temperature gauge wasn't showing anything of concern, so I double checked the exhaust was still spitting out water, and Dad went below to check the engine. Nothing felt or smelt like it was overheating below or in the engine compartment.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZMtEJQMkIPM2KowgBysksWf8oFRTWu2UwGCP-YLBYxaqFT6UwENMd4UxYG7TkSUYL41OgfyJNAQJOyBchRaOusISafDcANGcvTQ5-ctCstYGK9cXVyobqsMzl79C-suU_zHvTj0biCQSCqngvmm7umBH3-QtVKgvp1Cw8lkQ7FWSniKVgmlu6jRHlQY/s3833/20231015_142308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1725" data-original-width="3833" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZMtEJQMkIPM2KowgBysksWf8oFRTWu2UwGCP-YLBYxaqFT6UwENMd4UxYG7TkSUYL41OgfyJNAQJOyBchRaOusISafDcANGcvTQ5-ctCstYGK9cXVyobqsMzl79C-suU_zHvTj0biCQSCqngvmm7umBH3-QtVKgvp1Cw8lkQ7FWSniKVgmlu6jRHlQY/s320/20231015_142308.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />After a minute or two in neutral, the warning on the LCD cleared. So we re-engaged the engine and motored in behind the shelter of the breakwater, whilst Mark returned to deploying the fenders and setting the lines.<p></p><p>Approaching the marina entrance, I again knocked the engine back to tick-over, waiting for traffic from the fishing harbour to clear ahead. Again, the alarm went off, again the LCD showed a problem with the coolant system. Again, I silenced the alarm, drifted in neutral for a few minutes, and again the warning cleared.</p><p>We proceeded into the marina, and weren't troubled by the alarm again. There was a slight breeze blowing down the causeway, pushing us off our finger pontoon, so on the final approach to our berth, I left the turn in a little late, expecting the wind to have more effect than it actually did, and very much not wanting to bump our neighbour.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPMiIqgQupurMyVaq5I8aWJ-UTM-V_4FzmwfXYIy5LEaZLDc4aPY8d_aPPJg535M0ewDV7v6JbGuVo4iz6tZOeYcMOtoqnyqwc1aIjQw6y0HXUOIgPjJ9UbELEI1-Gi-68I-bVjndP2VXIx6V_XWy4EzEMM55e3FoT-mUBRZVaol5SXU2nT7-JqDigE7A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="628" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPMiIqgQupurMyVaq5I8aWJ-UTM-V_4FzmwfXYIy5LEaZLDc4aPY8d_aPPJg535M0ewDV7v6JbGuVo4iz6tZOeYcMOtoqnyqwc1aIjQw6y0HXUOIgPjJ9UbELEI1-Gi-68I-bVjndP2VXIx6V_XWy4EzEMM55e3FoT-mUBRZVaol5SXU2nT7-JqDigE7A" width="320" /></a></div><br />That left me without enough space for the turn, so I took some way off by kicking the engine astern, whilst the momentum of the boat continued to carry her on through her turn. As the turning movement began to slow, I slipped her back into neutral and then nudged gently her ahead again, Mark up on the side deck confirming what I'd already guessed, that my line was now good. She slid to almost a complete stop as we came into our berth, Mark stepping off onto the finger and securing the midships spring around the end cleat, giving me something to power against to hold her in whilst we secured the rest of our lines.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhE6frH1w9svAW1ddDlUQILcQhAH1OA8G4wiiGByCtIXZQt3DlGuPz5d_chqQaWmu6lSFeuiLBV1GJEbvzz4CYK3Qr90uKMDPxWfpm9nGm5R_45r4WKd4qfw25VbsPzKkYAwVf2nS73Tt6kHcDOtzaTLarYSthh1-GHuzzdmxF6LS1_iYepaa0lMyciV8A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="981" data-original-width="2559" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhE6frH1w9svAW1ddDlUQILcQhAH1OA8G4wiiGByCtIXZQt3DlGuPz5d_chqQaWmu6lSFeuiLBV1GJEbvzz4CYK3Qr90uKMDPxWfpm9nGm5R_45r4WKd4qfw25VbsPzKkYAwVf2nS73Tt6kHcDOtzaTLarYSthh1-GHuzzdmxF6LS1_iYepaa0lMyciV8A" width="320" /></a></div><br />And so our maiden sail with Petrella was done; a short but very lovely trip of 6.6 nautical miles out across Torbay and back, over 2 hours and 34 minutes. Petrella is now absolutely, irrevocably ours.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>The electrics on Petrella are a little different to Calstar. Our previous boat had a domestic battery and an engine battery, both separately isolated by individual switches and independent from each other.</p><p>Petrella has three domestic batteries and one engine battery, both systems with their individual isolators, but with a third isolator switch labelled "cross bank" that connects the two systems together. When the domestic isolator switch is horizontal, the system is off. When it's up, then the system is on. By contrast, when the engine isolator is down, the system is off, when it's horizontal the system is on.</p><p>Tidying up after having secured Petrella in her berth, I went below to switch the engine battery off, and found it already isolated. It seems that when I switched the battery on prior to starting the engine before leaving, I somehow, inadvertently switched the engine battery off, but switched the cross bank on, connecting the domestic batteries to the engine circuit.</p><p>A stupid, stupid mistake. And not one I intend to make again.</p><p>With the domestic batteries connected, the engine started despite no engine battery being in the loop. But I wonder if, in not having its own dedicated battery, and therefore having to share the load of the engine with the demands of the navigation systems off the same circuit, the engine couldn't draw or generate enough power in tick-over to keep the coolant at the required temperature, and therefore triggered the warnings?</p><p>In any case, there is also a bit of a shudder when moving between the engine transmission states (neutral to dead slow, dead slow to ahead and vice versa, and likewise neutral to astern) which neither Dad nor I nor Mark particularly liked, so we're going to find somebody to look at it for us and at the same time double-check and service the engine. It's not something I really want to take chances with.</p><p>But that was just a very small dent in an otherwise perfect day.</p><p><br /></p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2886942619017983958.post-8978309748078408822023-10-13T11:23:00.000+01:002023-10-13T11:23:14.459+01:00Albacore: spot yourself?<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkaMWoMAwugkV8ZXVsZ4ZBtoiSCcsRqVGKBuIez9XcW4FxlEBDSS2eXENx641RXku7I-UtiFsUpk2O8qSCsU8Yiv3Q57r3nRrSMJTqu_gtpb13GdrhQOBM-3cgsTEcoAedXQmc0tQxu-jf9sKbpWkPoak2ESD26LUuLRIl4iQo4P7LhVfPFmzVrNFUlHA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1296" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkaMWoMAwugkV8ZXVsZ4ZBtoiSCcsRqVGKBuIez9XcW4FxlEBDSS2eXENx641RXku7I-UtiFsUpk2O8qSCsU8Yiv3Q57r3nRrSMJTqu_gtpb13GdrhQOBM-3cgsTEcoAedXQmc0tQxu-jf9sKbpWkPoak2ESD26LUuLRIl4iQo4P7LhVfPFmzVrNFUlHA" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: mark barrett</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I received a message from my friend, Nicola, on Monday, with the above photo attached and the question "Can you spot yourself?"</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsYKbmXaljiV6YCLvioeVmdDt3bfr5M6hnzNJuKfjNuYjMUoA-bYwk9Us7od5Vs6Z1hyYHBqL8QnCMdmcizxQNAuYlGK32q-KjYi_PkUUxBjXaxdutT7iNwv1xQyMHRVgv7U-KefZqIynbHcgQjyeyZQQHP7644RC83nY3xFgoSH1DAwvP98a8a4B3yI8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1920" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsYKbmXaljiV6YCLvioeVmdDt3bfr5M6hnzNJuKfjNuYjMUoA-bYwk9Us7od5Vs6Z1hyYHBqL8QnCMdmcizxQNAuYlGK32q-KjYi_PkUUxBjXaxdutT7iNwv1xQyMHRVgv7U-KefZqIynbHcgQjyeyZQQHP7644RC83nY3xFgoSH1DAwvP98a8a4B3yI8" width="320" /></a></div><p>Her husband, Mark, is a pilot (I can't remember for which airline) and took the above as he was passing at 1240 on Sunday afternoon. Which would've been about the time Nicola was trying to take Amanda and me out in our Albacore by crashing through the start line on port in her RS Aero. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfTaqTrBQqriJfbLz-oZKC1gFq4cnAJHgPe3JKlR7y_rdlAHo6HkEbr0aBEWaEg2RbGZ-cozeSKczuNxfa5tk5iYcZ069bwCBaaLlCEGD4xF9EWWkXdgWJ8KkRPoiXmA7dCwN-HXQZZIiy8kf-lPsp2m9tkfxovMuFpk1Z9a-rAAFQeJGCu12fXF5LSk/s2048/387774824_10159195071216326_5016812129216565934_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfTaqTrBQqriJfbLz-oZKC1gFq4cnAJHgPe3JKlR7y_rdlAHo6HkEbr0aBEWaEg2RbGZ-cozeSKczuNxfa5tk5iYcZ069bwCBaaLlCEGD4xF9EWWkXdgWJ8KkRPoiXmA7dCwN-HXQZZIiy8kf-lPsp2m9tkfxovMuFpk1Z9a-rAAFQeJGCu12fXF5LSk/s320/387774824_10159195071216326_5016812129216565934_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: rob caston</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It was definitely one of those "How on earth did she get into that situation?" moments.</p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeWcu1R2lDp3o2GbFHp2QfnMl99czavincXSeeeYBqBZYOL6CD8YNTXFXygU1YcIPg_rM6x46kzWC0yzYjyAizphfOlsycIEq8o_dlxUG-4C2MP8kZjTBDChVrXjSPsIeaimx6IReBNlRoxvOE3cVp0JSMUBH61Q-WQJztu9JlNnOcn3RzR2ABWZWUtQA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="856" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeWcu1R2lDp3o2GbFHp2QfnMl99czavincXSeeeYBqBZYOL6CD8YNTXFXygU1YcIPg_rM6x46kzWC0yzYjyAizphfOlsycIEq8o_dlxUG-4C2MP8kZjTBDChVrXjSPsIeaimx6IReBNlRoxvOE3cVp0JSMUBH61Q-WQJztu9JlNnOcn3RzR2ABWZWUtQA" width="320" /></a></div><br />The winds were light and, other than a dent to our collective pride, no damage was done. It put a bit of a hiccup into the start of our race, but the Albacore sails well in light air and we went on to take a joint third place with one of the Solos, out of a fleet of eighteen. <p></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z6DaorigO6EyDOsjFVcxyqj4FJ1Ny0c_PRCsquuqpEO_h1bCj-ap9tWmIiLkeaH-2XRsVSG06jjGW2EwcZhmW5QbhCHS5uWe6TttqZZz2HBeMjykKgeI-xQc9L20oPwAPaKxSJPIt00Dq3O0r0agvEsLRXzYr3ZXbzuqpTc-Uq6Jx_fEkSZcdAJqceQ/s2048/387771205_10159195071806326_8069625364659698836_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z6DaorigO6EyDOsjFVcxyqj4FJ1Ny0c_PRCsquuqpEO_h1bCj-ap9tWmIiLkeaH-2XRsVSG06jjGW2EwcZhmW5QbhCHS5uWe6TttqZZz2HBeMjykKgeI-xQc9L20oPwAPaKxSJPIt00Dq3O0r0agvEsLRXzYr3ZXbzuqpTc-Uq6Jx_fEkSZcdAJqceQ/s320/387771205_10159195071806326_8069625364659698836_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: rob caston</td></tr></tbody></table><br />A fair start to the winter's Frostbite series.</p>tatali0nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11298806384931561269noreply@blogger.com0