Petrella: fettling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

opposable thumbs

A letter to the Guardian made me grin this morning. In response to an article arguing The case against pets: is it time to give up our cats and dogs? earlier this month. I admit I am terribly biased on the subject, but I do find such arguments puerile, condescending and mildly offensive on a purely visceral level.

That said, I sometimes wonder if dog ownership has become too much of a "thing" in recent years; gone are the days when me and mine could naturally expect to have the park to ourselves on any given evening's walk. Although a side benefit of everybody having a dog now is that they're now quite welcome in most places you go, pubs and many shops in particular. Market forces at work. And were there fewer cats in our street, those evening walks would be easier.

Actually, that's a little obsolete; Jack found cats an offense to the natural order of things, and on spotting one he would turn totally feral, hackles raised, snarling, barking and lunging on the lead like a mad loon. And he wondered why people would cross the street to avoid him? Whilst the cat invariably just sat there ahead of us on the pavement, smirking at the idiot dog and intentionally blocking the path so we'd have to walk into the road to get around it.

Lottie, on the other hand, merely thinks they're cute and vaguely interesting. Which I suspect massively offends and irritates all the cats in our street to no end. 

For the record, I love cats almost as much as I love dogs. And whilst I have been bitten my any number of dogs, almost all by accident, a dog has never put me in hospital. Whereas a cat has.

Anyway, I shall quote the letter on the Guardian's website this morning, as I find myself very much with Mr Nigel Walker from Hutton Roof, Cumbria.

 Your article asks if it’s time to give up our pets. When I did a survey of our dogs and cats, the answer was a hard stare from beside their food bowls. Clearly a no from them. Anthropomorphising animals is always a bad idea. A dog with an outfit on doesn’t care about the outfit unless it’s uncomfortable; all it wants is to be with its pack. Cats are social animals too, and see us as large nurturing sort-of cats with opposable thumbs. Though it might be true that if cats developed their own opposable thumbs, humans would all be dead in seconds.

Nigel Walker
Hutton Roof, Cumbria

(Top photo is Dad's late Bruno, the others all feature Jack)

Jack

Captain Jack. A giant of a German Shepherd with floppy ears that briefly stood up, true to breed, for a day when he was a small pup, then decided the continued effort wasn't worth it and collapsed, never to rise again. I'd annoy my wife by telling her they were broken, but really thought they were the cutest thing in the world. 

He loved water, had an irrational, baseless terror of bridges. Longest tongue in the world, always hanging out over his characteristically laid-back grin, he was an affectionate cuddle monster ever ready for a hug, adored a belly-rub and loved nothing more than to chase a ball. A loved and loving companion and treasured part of our family for just over a decade.

Ten years and ten months old. We said goodbye to him on Saturday morning. A peaceful parting at the end of a long, slow illness; it was far from unexpected, but it still stings like a bastard. 

We shall miss him badly.

how things go

"selfie": roger gribble

It has been a bitter sweet month so far. On Sunday 3rd September we completed the purchase of Petrella, as planned, and with the help of Rebecca and T|J, the now previous owners, moved her around the corner to her new home in Brixham.

We are, obviously, delighted, but work, band and other previous commitments have kept us from heading down to Brixham since, which although not unanticipated, has been frustrating.

photo: tj cowell

On a more positive note, we sold Calstar at the end of last week, for very close to the asking price, which I actually thought (but allowed myself to be influenced by the broker) we'd set unreasonably high, judging by other boats of the same class on the market.

But I do think Calstar is an exceptional example of her type, and it seems the market bore me out on that.

I shall actually miss her. But she's going to bring joy and adventure to somebody new, so I only hope they'll enjoy her as much as we did.

"selfie": roger gribble

On a sadder note, Dad had to put his old dog Bruno to sleep last week. Just age and failing bones, which I guess get the better of us all eventually. Likewise, our Jack is now on a very rapid decline. Like Bruno, he's 11 now, which is a more than fair innings for a GSD. We've known it's been coming for quite some time, since our vet spotted some irregularities with his heart when he last had his annual vaccinations, almost a year ago now. 

We were pretty sure then, and have become more certain since, that something sinister was going on, likely an abdominal tumour of some kind. But the scans and tests couldn't find it, and there's only so much intervention that's fair with a dog of his age.

He's tired, very tired, but doesn't seem to be in any distress or pain aside from the occasional cough that comes or goes; he still loves a belly rub and still begs by the door for his evening walk. Or the decision would be simple, no matter however hard. And it always is. But he's stopped eating over the last few days, no matter what we try, and we've tried everything, and is visibly weakening. 

I'll admit, I've been finding this week exceptionally hard.

With no gigs, we were hoping to get down to the boat this weekend. But we shall see how things go.

Laser: season's end

Final race of the Wednesday evening season is next week; the evenings are drawing in fast now. Last night was a pleasant evening on the water though. On a good day, the lowering light is so pretty this time of the year.

Freefall: Saturday nights

A sequence of three stills from a video taken on Saturday night at our gig at The Lamb in Eastcombe, Stroud. The drummer is behind me, and the bassist typically stood behind my left shoulder. So with the way my guitar sits and with my attention typically focused on the crowd out front, I'm typically aware of the guitarist out of the corner of my eye to my left, but these two are pretty much invisible to me whilst we're playing.

On drums is the amazingly talented Leah, who stands in for our regular drummer, Bean, so often that she's pretty much an honourary member of the band these days. I think this was her fourteenth gig with us in the last year. On bass is my brother, Jay.

The sequence, midway through the Stereophonics song "Dakota" just made me smile, so I thought I'd leave it here. In Leah's words, ". . . took us three goes but finally nailed those stabs (you might be able to tell)" 

Better still, they dropped neither a note nor a beat through their little celebration.

weather permitting

We progress. Contracts exchanged, deposit paid, date for completion confirmed as this coming Sunday 3rd. Weather permitting, and at the moment it's looking a bit marginal, we might actually move her around to Brixham Marina on Sunday morning, where her new berth has already been allocated; the previous owners to be have kindly offered to sail her around with us.

Hardly essential, but very welcome. And it does feel like a fitting way to hand a boat over.

Laser: upstart yoof

There are two races left in the Wednesday evening Hotdog series before the season finishes.

However, as of last Wednesday, the conclusion is now foregone.

Two seconds of corrected time is all that was in it. That gives the youngster in the Laser Radial ahead of me eight clear wins, and doesn't leave me with enough room to catch him as I'd need to discard three races, but only have two remaining.

So I'd best start polishing my trophy ready to surrender it in a couple of weeks time.

On a more serious note, it's been a great series this year, with the Laser fleet in particular enjoying a very welcome revival. It's been particularly gratifying to see so many youngsters out with the fleet, even if one of them is going to end up beating me very fair and square.

Brixham bound

I don't think I've ever had so much trouble trying to spend so much money. 

Our new boat to be is secure upon her current trot mooring in the River Dart until the end of March next year. At which point the mooring, which is non transferrable, reverts to the harbour authority. There is a waiting list for moorings on the Dart that requires a deposit of £150 just to get your name added.

Which is fair enough, and I wouldn't begrudge. But the more I think of it, the more I think we need the new boat in a marina. It's a three hour drive to the boat, so I want to be able to park securely, leave the car, walk on the boat and walk back off whenever I want.

Arriving in Kingswear, finding somewhere to park, inflating a tender, paddling out across the river to the mooring, quite likely in the dark, is an adventure I'm not particularly concerned about for my own part, but it doesn't seem reasonable to impose the same burden on Dad or my wife. Or my dog, for that matter.

Made enquiries with the marinas in the Dart. The one was exceptionally friendly and helpful, but the one space they had was too narrow for the beam of the new boat. They couldn't make any promises, but suggested I call back in late January once they'd dealt with next year's renewals. The other told me they had a 5 to 7 year waiting list and they couldn't even give me any certainty of a winter berth from October till February. There's a waiting list for that too, but to get on it I needed to email them next week once they were done with the Dartmouth Regatta.

Similar story with Sutton Harbour in Plymouth. No near decade long waiting list, lovely lady to took the call, really keen to help but I'd really have to take my chances and call back late January. Everywhere, at this time of year at least, is fully subscribed. It doesn't help that the boat is 11m length overall and 3.8m beam.

I really don't like uncertainty. It bothers me leaving things hanging and undecided.

Then I had a call from a guy called Mike at Brixham Marina this morning. They've just had a boat previously berthed with them and confirmed as sold and moving on. The space it leaves is a perfect fit for us. They can take us any time from the beginning of September. 

So the deposit is paid. I'll pay the balance once we've taken possession of the boat, which is planned for Sunday 3rd September. We shall leave her on her trot mooring for a couple of weeks (annoyingly, I'm fully booked the weekend following) and then, weather permitting, move her around Berry Head and into Brixham Marina on Saturday 16th. At which point, Brixham will become our new home port.

(the photos above were from our last trip with Calstar to Brixham and Dartmouth back in August 2020)

Calstar: 1981 Westerly Griffon Mk1 for sale

And suddenly, it feels all so real.

One much loved, generously appointed and meticulously maintained (mostly by Dad, I should add!) Westerly Griffon for sale, lying Portishead, Bristol Channel.

https://www.boatpoint.co.uk/boats/9004647

Our next boat is currently with her present owners off on their last adventure together, a couple of weeks cruising the south west. I think they were anchored last night in Plymouth Sound, to watch the Plymouth Fireworks Championships (yes, such a thing exists).

Our planned day for the handover is Sunday 3rd September.

all change

We had planned to be away sailing this week; provisionally thought Portishead to Minehead, to Ilfracombe, to Swansea, to Cardiff then home to Portishead.

In part the weather has flummoxed us.

In other parts, bookending my week off work with Saturday gigs was not the smartest of ideas. 

And then, instead of heading directly down to Calstar and sailing after the gig on Saturday, we headed down to Dartmouth to meet up with some friends and have a look at a 1979 Moody 36CC.

She's quite lovely. And I've just had an offer accepted for her.

I won't jinx it with any more details until I have the keys actually in my hand (figuratively, at least) and the deal is done. But it seems I'm now in the unfortunate position of owning two boats.

So does anybody want to buy a beautifully kept, appointed and maintained Westerly Griffon?

I can't say that I didn't feel a huge twinge of regret the moment I confirmed instructions to the broker to put Calstar on the market. She's been very good to us.

Laser: thunderclouds

Had a good evening's racing last night with the Laser at South Cerney. Black skies and patchy sun over dark waters. The rain set in for around twenty minutes at the start; thick, heavy drops of icy water. But it eased off as the evening progressed and when the sun occasionally broke back through, it was actually quite pleasant. 

A little bit of thunder and distant lightning about half way through, but didn't amount to anything more than a couple of threatening peals. The wind was supposed to be gusting up to 20 knots, but, on that count at least, failed to deliver. Instead, we got a shifty, temperamental north-westerly of around 10 knots. Perfect for a certain featherweight youngster with his Radial, who stole an early lead off the start-line and turned it in to a convincing win, beating me into an ungracious second place.

I'd rigged my old Rooster sail; I've bought a new Holt class replica sail for the Laser, but if I'm honest, I'm not getting on with it. The boat feels sluggish, the leach of the sail seems overly hooked and the luff seems too long. I'm tempted to eBay it and get a new Rooster replica instead to replace the old one. Then again, I should probably be a little less spendthrift at the moment. We're seriously considering selling Calstar and getting something a little bigger.

It's been a consideration for a while, but not something I was planning to do within the next couple of years, except a potential opportunity has presented itself. Calstar is a lovely little boat, but a little bit tight for space or privacy when there's more than a couple of us aboard, which discourages Nikki somewhat, I think.