Update 29/12/12

16.567S,161.41E
Acq.20121229T063324Z
Accuracy h48m,v16m
Triggered 20121229T063949Z
Qietly progressing qite qickly. ETA 6-7 days.

http://goo.gl/maps/NyhWE

Update 27/12/12

13.655S,165.30E
Acq.20121227T051430Z
Accuracy h40m,v48m
Triggered 20121227T052358Z
Passd 3/4 point this arvo. Wadda we want? No-U Qs! When do we wannit? Qickly!

http://goo.gl/maps/AL7lK

Update 25/12/12

11.054S,168.37E
Acq.20121225T044746Z
Accuracy h24m,v80m
Triggered 20121225T050507Z
Mrry xms Svrl sqlls last 48. OK & gd prgrss.
No U all the time just Qs fine!

http://goo.gl/maps/HzWyg

Update 23/12/12

8.1655S,171.52E
Acq.20121223T054731Z
Accuracy h81m,v48m
Triggered 20121223T061528Z
Y do we put U aftr Q? gonna start a mvmnt 2 chnge that. Chant: no u after q!

http://goo.gl/maps/ipD6D

Update 21/12/12

7.0469S,172.73E
Acq.20121221T041349Z
Accuracy h24m,v16m
Triggered 20121221T045356Z
225NM in 2 days. Moving again! Lots of rain so plenty in tank. Was low-ish

Update 19/12/12

4.7888S,174.93E
Acq.20121219T060436Z
Accuracy h40m,v96m
Triggered 20121219T061109Z
Vrtlly nil prgrss in 6 days du 2 no wind. Gttng a tad cranky. All else OK.

Update 17/12/12

Wayne Update 17/12/12

3.9450S,176.02E
Acq.20121217T064555Z
Accuracy h85m,v32m
Triggered 20121217T065350Z
... Todays Advntrs wth Txtiles: Wayne sews dbl sail clth wth dbl fshng line. Fun!

http://goo.gl/maps/kARnR

Update 16/12/12

Wayne Update 16/12/12

1.6088S,178.40E
Acq.20121215T042931Z
Accuracy h81m,v48m
Triggered 20121215T044634Z
... After losing 4 days bcalmd & repairs, expct 2 crss 1/2 way mrk in abt 4hrs.

http://goo.gl/maps/9f9vKSee More

Update 13/12/12

0.7008N,179.64W
Acq.20121213T034806Z
Accuracy h16m,v64m
Triggered 20121213T035755Z
Last & favt hat lost obrd. Callng "Workplace Safety" lacked pathos of Wilson!

http://goo.gl/maps/a1JFf

Update 10/12/12

2.0380N,178.55W
Acq.20121210T054834Z
Accuracy h84m,v32m
Triggered 20121210T060328Z
Jib fxd. Nil wnd all day. 2m wale-shrk grazd on hull slme for 1 hr. Tru! Pics

http://goo.gl/maps/FhRQz

Update 9/12/12

3.3316N,176.77W
Acq.20121208T043555Z
Accuracy h85m,v80m
Triggered 20121208T053218Z
Jib torn seam. Prcdng jib furld. Attmpt repr  2mrw. Losng 1kt. All else good.


http://goo.gl/maps/oAZDW

Update 03/12/12

9.4202N,170.45W
Acq.20121203T032141Z
Accuracy h16m,v64m
Triggered 20121203T032231Z
1000NM in 7 days! All OK. A working a/pilot is a thing of beauty & joy.

http://goo.gl/maps/gF1Rw

Update 1/12/12

Update 1/12/12

12.273N,167.44W
Acq.20121201T025104Z
Accuracy h56m,v16m
Triggered 20121201T030524Z
...

Chnged crse 2 deg so I'll cross equator @ date line. Whimsy? Why, yes indeed!

http://goo.gl/maps/OFEQO

UPDATE 29/11/12

21.270N,157.88W
Acq.20121125T094831Z
Accuracy h24m,v48m
Triggered 20121125T100044Z
Dprtd HNLU. Sea & wind both slight. Heading 217 deg. Next stop Bundaberg!

...

18.435N,160.43W
Acq.20121127T050949Z
Accuracy h16m,v80m
Triggered 20121127T051024Z
Boat & crew doing well. Avg 5.5 kts x 24 hrs = 132NM day. Trip = 4000NM

15.325N,164.18W
Acq.20121129T031206Z
Accuracy h16m,v32m
Triggered 20121129T031258Z
In <4 days Hellcat did 515NM dmg This boat rocks! And rolls, pitches, yaws...


http://goo.gl/maps/lPos9

Where was I?

Oh yeah ... Honolulu.

Where am I now? Oh yeah, still in Honolulu.

Long story short: Finally managed to get the new Auto-pilot installed (myself) and went into the commissioning routine. All goes well until the 'sea trial' calibration sequence. This involves sailing in circles until the computer figures out which way the flux-gate compass is pointing (in a manner of speaking) and then some other manoeuvres.  After several run-throughs, the computer clearly isn't talking to the compass, and I eventually get an error message saying "Rate-gyro FAIL". I had no idea what it meant , but it obviously wasn't good.

Returned to the berth, called Raymarine.  "It can't be reset, you'll have to return the unit to us under warranty". Again with the warranty game? And another $75 that I have to pay just to send it to them.

After my first experience with the local Raymarine agent, (it took about 5 weeks and several phone calls to get my 'old' auto-pilot back; he lost my paperwork, then tried to bill me for a warranty job, and so on) I bypassed him and sent the unit straight to Raymarine. So now I'm waiting. Again. Some more. UPS' tracking system says Raymarine received it on Friday. Today is Monday. If it isn't back by Friday I'll have to use my grumpy voice when I call them.

Lots of little 'to-do' items crossed of the list, so that's great. But, I'm over this 'stuck in paradise' thing. As soon as the core-pack gets back I'll re-install it (easy job, half an hour to plug it back in) do the calibration/commissioning thing, then a day of trials and I'm out of here. Auto-pilot or not. I sailed for 20 days without one to get here, I'll sail 40 days without one to get home.

Putting that aside, today was interesting. When I had been here for about two weeks, I did a brief sail, testing some repairs or something, and the 'speedo' wasn't working at first, then came good after half an hour of sailing. Then the night of Tsunami alert (did I tell you about the Tsunami alert? Oh dear, my poor neglected blog) the speed instrument read zero all night. Seemed a bit odd that it had grown enough weed to clog up the sender unit so quickly, but that was clearly the problem. So all I had to do was remove the transducer from it socket, (which is to say: "unplug a hole in the bottom of the boat". What could go wrong? ) put in the temporary plug and clean the speed transducer. No, there wasn't any drama with removing the unit and putting the 'plug in'. Sorry to disappoint. That process was in fact surprisingly straightforward. Given that it meant that I had a 2 inch (5cm) hole open in the bottom of the boat I expected a flood. Obviously there was some 'ingress', but it wasn't as violent or pressurised as I expected.

What was interesting, well, to me anyway, was that when I looked a the unit closely, I couldn't see all that much 'weed' growth on it. Some, sure, but not clogging levels. I shrugged and cleaned off what I could I could see. But the little wheel that spins to create the speed signal wasn't free. "Okies, some of the weed must have migrated up into the cavity at the top of the wheel" I figured, and got out a little scaper/probe thing and went to work. Lots of stuff coming out, and I thought:"that doesn't look like plant material, what ..."

Apparently a colony of marine worms had decided that this would be a good place to occupy. Weird, or what? I guess this is why our quarantine people are a) fussy, and b) losing. If I hadn't bothered to fix it, I would clearly have imported this little colony (which may already be present in Australia, but that's not the point) of worms into Australian waters. And no inspection would have detected them.

Environmental disaster averted.

So, about that Tsunami. To save me telling the whole story over again. I'll just paste my Failbook post from the following day.

Well that was something different to fill in a Saturday night. About 7.30 some (really loud!) sirens went off. Asked the locals what the alarm was about and was told it was the Tsunami alert.

After much consultation and seeking of local advice, me and about a third of the boats in the various local harbours put out sea, as theory has it that it's safer in deep water. That's the theory anyway. Having a couple of hundred leisure craft suddenly heading out of 3 different harbours, and being joined by several Navy vessels, commercial fishing boats, and so on was probably the most dangerous aspect as it turned out. Remember this was Saturday night, so a number of the skippers and crew had probably been having drinks earlier. There was certainly some interesting radio traffic.

I wasn't really sure the locals were taking it seriously (and thus if I needed to) until an empty bulk tanker moved out of the main port. Then I figured if someone was willing to spend the thousands of dollars that would have cost, perhaps they are. (The Navy moving out didn't convince me, as I figured it was just as likely that some Admiral thought it was be a good drill regardless of the Tsunami.)

Anyhoo ... in the end it was all for nought. I *think* I saw the 'tsunami' roll by, it was so small I can't be sure. Then we had to mill around for hours before the harbours were declared 'open' again by the emergency management people. I gave up and dropped anchor off Waikiki beach and went to sleep.

So, there it is. I can now add "Rode out a tsunami at sea" to my CV.

 

Okies, that was the interesting part of being here. Seriously but, I'm outta here next weekend, or there'll be tears!

W.

Hurry up and wait some more.

So, where have I got to?

err... still in Honolulu, actually.

Yup, I've been slack, no denying. Still, a number of things have been done ...

• New cranking (starting) battery
• New alternator
• New Y-valve in the waste plumbing. (Y-valve? Y not? Here endeth the 'Y' puns.)
• New interior light in the head. (For the not familiar, the bathroom/toilet on a boat is called 'the head'. Don't ask, I don't know why. (Y? Stop that!))
• New steering cable
• New steering chain
• New filter in fuel/water separator
• New 'block' (pulley) on the main sheet traveller and 2 new ones on the boom.
• Re-wired the compass light so that it's independent of the navigation lights.
• Sealed the last of the known leaks in the cabin. Note the use of the word 'known'.

And some other stuff that I can't remember right now. All of which should have taken a quarter of the time that it did. Bite me. Part of the delay was trying to find the best places to buy the parts from.
And then find out how to get there. And ... you know, stuff.

The steering gear, that some of you will recall I repaired at sea, started making some odd noises as I was nearing Hawai'i, which made my prior resolution, to check it over when I got here, all the easier to keep. I had planned to replace the chain anyway, as it was shortened by the repair. When I crawled into the cavity to look at the linkage, I noticed pretty much straight away that 3 of the 6 strands on one of the cables, running from the chain to the rudder quadrant, had frayed. I can only guess that when I repaired it at sea I either over or under-tightened the adjustment, or somehow 'nicked' the cable enough to cause the strands to weaken. So, no option but to replace it, and I eventually found a local rigger that said he could (and did) make one up 'on the spot' for $60. So I bought two. Now I have a spare.

The chain I ordered from the original equipment manufacturer. For $200 I received what looks suspiciously like 24 inches (60 cm) of bog standard motor-cycle drive chain with a shackle on each end of it. Now it's been years since I had to buy motorcycle chain, but that seems pretty damn
expensive to me. Anyway, it's done. I'll keep the old (short) one so I have a spare of that as well.

I have a theory that most boats sink because the owners accumulate so many spares that the boats are simply overloaded. And who am I to buck that trend?  

Which only leaves the auto-pilot. I haven't heard back from my very good friends at Raymarine yet, on what they intend to do about the wheel unit failing a second time. I haven't been unduly stressed about it while I've had other stuff to do, but the auto-pilot is now about the only thing that I need to resolve so I can get going again. It occurred to me that I can get on with the upgrade while I wait on the repair of the smaller unit, as the two 'projects' are pretty much independent. In fact the only reason I'm pursuing the repair of the smaller unit is so that I can sell it to recover part of the cost of the upgrade. So the upgrade research has been done, and as usual the cheapest place that I can buy the new drive unit and course computer is from Defender. Still, it means I have to scrounge up a shade over $2700 that I don't happen to have lying around in my 'lazy money' account*. The financial juggling of this project is harder than  the sailing! 

Anyway, that's about it as far as the boat stuff goes.

I'll post again prior to setting off.

W.



* This is a fictional account that I wish I had one of.

LATE EDIT  I heard from the local Raymarine agent that Raymarine called them and have said they are way behind on their warranty jobs at the moment, and it will be 'another two or three weeks' before they get it back to me. The hell...??!! They've already had the thing for over two weeks.

I figure I'll just go ahead with the upgrade, and have them send the repaired unit to Australia where I can catch up with it.

Retrospective, now that I've had some sleep.

@ Starbucks again. That's two free mentions they've had. More than three and they owe me a commission.

So, this will have to brief as the laptop is chewing through it's (admittedly old) battery pretty fast these days.

A feww quick thoughts on the trip over here ...

Of the 25-ish days, I had square on following wind for about 22 of them, the other 3 days it wasn't far off. Now the some 'old salts' amongst you will be thinking ... "ooh nice, easy sailing'. But hang on, consider ... single handed, and the auto-pilot died after about day 5. That's 20 days of following seas trying to 'round up' the boat every thirty seconds. (For the non-sailors, waves coming from behind the boat try to push the back of the boat away from the direction you're going, and it's called 'rounding up') Then try to cook, eat, sleep, adjust sails, pole out, etc. Clearly I managed to do it, but it was sometimes a bit of a struggle. I was hugely fortunate that the weather was very kind to me. I didn't see winds reach over thirty knots or seas over 3 metres the whole way. If the auto-pilot had been working it would have been a dream run.

As it was I lost about 3 days and sailed about an extra 400 miles. All part of the fun.

The worst day? I woke up one morning, just before sunrise, and the electrics were all dead. All of them. I figured that I must have left something switched on and drained the battery. "No matter ..." I muttered,  ..."solar panel will pick it up again in a couple of hours". Bite to eat and shake out some sail. Ten minutes later Clank, clatter, clatter, loose steering wheel. A quick glance tells me that turning the wheel isn't turning the rudder post, which in a way was a good thing, as it meant that the problem was the connection between the wheel and the post, not the rudder itself. So I'm digging out all the gear in the cockpit locker that I have to go through to get under the cokpit to see what the problem is, and after a while I say to myself ...

"All I need now is for ship to come along." Murphy replies: "A big orange one with hundreds of containers stacked on the deck so they can't see you?" "Yes", I reply, "... one like that, I guess". Murphy giggles the glee of the devil. "Oh good", he whispers. Next time I get out of the locker and look around. Yup, a ship's lights on the horizon. Angle not changing, so heading straight for me. "Crap". Forget identifying the problem ... start the engine. Can't, no electrics. Call him on the rad ... no electrics. Dig out the emergency tiller and get out of his way!"

I'd guess that I moved the boat about 400 yards before the ship, a nice orange one with lots of containers on it, sailed by about 600 yards away. So he would have missed me by 200 yards anyway. Really, there was nothing to worry about, huh? 

The electric problem didn't go away. I hadn't left anything on; rather, the solar panel's voltage regulator had died two days earlier, and wasn't re-charging the battery. And the alternator wasn't working either, so there was no charge on the starter battery. Both of these are yet to be fully resolved, but I did a 'McGyver' on the solar panel and managed to get enough power in the system to get me here.

Best day? Most of the others. Biggest single impression? Mind boggling solitude. I went for 4 or 5 days at a time seeing no trace of human activity beyond the boat. I started reciting a litany: "water, horizon, sky" when I looked around. It included everything I saw.

Gotta run, battery is now low and Starbuck's staff are beginning to give me 'looks'.

Raymarine's local agent says their 'tech' is away till Monday, so I'm here for bit longer yet. (It's Friday here).

So here I am ...

... in down-town Honolulu. Starbucks to be precise.

World hasn't stopped swaying yet.

More later.

Update 16/09/12

21.771N,156.95W
Acq.20120916T030206Z
Accuracy h8m,v48m
Triggered 20120916T030230Z
N21 46.66 W156 55.75

Land ho! Molokai Islnd visble to south. HNLU still 65NM

http://goo.gl/maps/aZzHK

Wayne Update 14/09/12

22.991N,154.35W
Acq.20120914T025506Z
Accuracy h32m,v14m
Triggered 20120914T025530Z
N22 58.84 W154 18.50 shld make HNLU sunday PM melbrn time. (Sat nite local)

http://goo.gl/maps/kWWtJ

Update 12/09/12

24.224N,151.66W
Acq.20120912T023813Z
Accuracy h83m,v32m
Triggered 20120912T023841Z
Bottle Listerine leaked.
Hellcat smells fresh & minty!

http://goo.gl/maps/rYDRi

Wayne update 10/09/12

Triggered 20120910T022742Z
N25 00.71W149 14.32 passd 3/4 mrk this AM. biggst prob recntly = spilt coffee

http://goo.gl/maps/skqEz

Wayne Update 08/09/12

26.224N,146.69W
Acq.20120908T020231Z
Accuracy h81m,v32m
Triggered 20120908T020659Z
...

Wethr good. DTG = 653NM
6 days on 2 packs cigs. Ruh-oh!

http://goo.gl/maps/xkadA

Latest plot 6/09/12

http://goo.gl/maps/kbdsB

6/09/12 Udate

6/09/12 Udate

Triggered 20120906T041818Z

N27 42.620 W144 41.67  All good here. DTG 805 NM

 http://goo.gl/maps/eGflb

1/09/12 Update

29.682N,135.43W
Acq.20120901T023201Z
Accuracy h8m,v32m
Triggered 20120901T023318Z
Ever broke steer chain inside pedestal? Just me huh? 12hr to fix. Going again


http://maps.google.com.au/maps?saddr=32.583N,120.28W&daddr=30.258N,123.58W+to:29.701N,126.97W+to:29.378N,131.01W+to:29.682N,135.43W&hl=en&ll=30.977609,-127.858887&spn=9.638106,21.643066&sll=30.977609,-125.639648&sspn=9.638106,21.643066&mra=ls&t=m&z=6

30/08/12 Update

29.378N,131.01W
Acq.20120830T013727Z
Accuracy h87m,v32m
Triggered 20120830T013753Z
Tired 25kt this AM easd 15kt
but left choppy swell strn qtr 210NM since last

https://maps.google.com.au/maps?saddr=32.583N,120.28W&daddr=30.258N,123.58W+to:29.701N,126.97W+to:29.378N,131.01W&hl=en&ll=30.977609,-125.639648&spn=9.638106,21.643066&sll=29.759609,-119.745483&sspn=2.441451,5.410767&mra=ls&t=m&z=6

28/08/12 Update

29.701N,126.97W
Acq.20120828T014857Z
Accuracy h12m,v59m
Triggered 20120828T024703Z
AIS is great Can sleep. Weather still good.
Avg 90NM/day. look@ that sunset!

Remember those repairs....

27/08/12 18:17 (AET)  Autopilot dead again. Going  to Hawaii for repair or upgrade. All else good.

(For those unaware these posts are by Paul, Waynes Brother. Keep you posted as they come available.)

Position update 26/8/12

Ready .... set ....

It's all done. I didn't get away yesterday, because ... OK, because I stuffed up. I had everything done by about 7 PM, except filling the water and fuel tanks. Then it occured to me ... the fuel docks aren't open after 5 o'clock. Crap.

Stayed overnight. Woke up bright and early. No wind. Not a scrap. Nada. It's now just after mid-day, and I've been doing some time-filling jobs, sending emails, final shop. Now I'm having lunch, and just checked the weather forecast. All looks good. And a 10 knot breeze has come in.

Time to go.

I'll be sending position reports and very brief messages via satellite phone to my brother, and I've asked him to collate them into a weekly post and put them up here. The message system only allows me something like 75 characters (about half a normal SMS) so don't expect any essays.

If you want to message me for free, go to the Inmarsat web site and click on the "send a free message" box over on the right. Then enter my satellite phone number: 87077 6396678

I will try to have the phone on and linked up at midday (Eastern Australia time) for half an hour every second day, (when I send the position reports). So if you feel a need to burn a very large wad of money, feel free to ring that number. It is hugely expensive. You have been warned.

At this stage I'm planning on heading towards the Marquesas (195 deg from here) until I get to the South Equatorial current. If all is going well, I'll turn right (due west) and take a lift on the current without going into the Marquesas. The current takes me close to several ports, and if I need to, I'll divert to one of them. If all goes well, I'll just keep moving until I get to Townsville, somewhere between 70 and 90 days from now.

Well that's about it, boys and girls.

My huge thanks to David Q, Peter Stader (Joss), and Gene and Pattie (Swell Dish) for more than help than I can list here. You guys are special.


Byeeee!

... GO!

Almost ready ... again

 So ... err ... it's been even longer since the last update than it was to the one before that. Sorry. Been kinda busy. And tired.

Before I go on to elaborate what I've been busy on, I'll mention that I'm almost ready to go again. Hopefully tomorrow. I have to go somewhere in the next week because I travelled on a 90 day 'ESTA' and the 90 days ends in just over a week. There are no extensions and travel has to be to another country that doesn't share a land border (ie not Canada or Mexico.)

No matter, as I said, I'm almost ready to go.

Back to what I have been doing ... here's a summary:

 Cleaning up the interior. Hellcat's interior is virtually all teak. Lovely old-growth teak. Sadly neglected and occasionally wet teak. So I got hold of a bottle of teak oil and picked a few spots most in need of attention. Here's what the difference looks like:

After

Before

 This was without any other work on the wood. A quick wipe-down with a damp cloth, let it dry and apply teak oil.

The only problem is that once you've done one bit, all the other bits look a bit dull and cry out for the same treatment.


Then I did some stuff on the exterior. Remember I previously mentioned that an electrical 'short' had created accelerated rust in several spots? No? Well I did. I'm pretty sure I did. Whatever. I had to clean it up.

Continuing the 'before and after' theme:

The stuff I used would take the stripes off a zebra!

Yes, this is before.

The combination of salt water and electricity does terrible things to metal. The resultant corrosion was so rapid that as water ran past the base of the stanchion the rust was effectively being washed along the deck, where it settled firmly into the fibreglass. That rust stain took less than 3 weeks to get like that.It took some pretty hefty caustic warfare to clean it off as well. I may never have fingerprints again.

Then a brief diversion for July 4th. Some sort of cultural festivity around these parts, that manifests itself by people covering everything in red, white and blue ribbons, and letting off a vast amount of fireworks. I had a 'front row' seat at the local display, from the cockpit of Hellcat.

 This went on for several hours.The un-official ones went on for days.

By this time I had ordered some parts and was waiting on them, as I mentioned in a prior post, I think. So I decided that while I was waiting I would try re-sealing the windows that had leaked on the previous attempt to sail home.I had identified that something like 6 of the total of 8 windows had leaked to some degree, so, what the heck, might as well do the lot. First step was to remove the internal rubber strip to clean up any residue that the leaks might have left behind.

 

(The discolouration beside the window is just a photographic flaw, it's not present on the boat)

Yikes! That white powder in the lower corner is salt, deposited as the sea-water that has leaked in evaporated and left the salt behind. This would have taken a long time to accumulate. Fortunately the cleaning revealed no damage to the frames.

The hardest part of this job turned out to be applying masking tape around the frame, in two lines, leaving only the narrow strip that the sealant sticks on to. There is an opportunity for some bright engineer to automate that, but in the meantime I did it by hand. Several times over, if you add in how often I didn't get the edges parallel and close enough together, and had to strip part of it off and start again.

Apparently blue masking tape is better.

 Peter, also a Catalina 38 owner and occupying the berth directly across from mine, did the actual sealant-application bit. Just as well I guess, or I'd still be there trying to get it right. Peter's boat, "Joss" is a great example of what a lot of attention can do for a boat.

Peter renovating his cabin doors. Note the blue masking tape!

 So, windows resealed, and still waiting on parts. What next? The exterior woodwork looked a bit sad, and Peter was clearly distressed by it. After several comments and offers to help me get it done, I figured it couldn't hurt. So ... let's go back to 'before and after':

Old and weathered. Sometimes I feel like that too.

 The slightly less grey wood was previously covered by the blue canvass that you might have noticed in the picture above (of the newly sealed windows.) The more grey wood is completely open to the weather, and hasn't had any attention in years, if ever. First step was a chemical wash, (more caustic, less fingerprints remaining) and sanding. Lots of sanding. Sanding around curves and into crevices. Days of nothing but sanding. Just when I thought I'd be pleased to do anything but more bloody sanding, it was time to do some more masking-tape application. What colour should I use. Blue, you guess? How ever did you know?

 I wont describe the whole process, but suffice it to say that the locals were disappointed when I stopped applying varnish after seven coats. "Just another three coats and it'll look great" they kept saying. "Enough!" I eventually replied. After several days of sleeping with wood dust and then varnish fumes all through the boat I couldn't face another coat. But I did have the satisfaction of removing all that blue masking tape. I'm well pleased with the result.

The photo doesn't do justice to the improvement.

I had made a conscious decision to not try to take the wood back to 'as new'. There's something nice about acknowledging the age of the wood, just like the charm of old furniture. The wood has character and individuality because it has weathered and the grain stands out. It doesn't have to look like a table top or a piano; it's a boat.

While I was doing all the sanding and varnishing, the next package of parts arrived. I wont try to explain the function of a 'main sheet traveller' to any non-sailing readers. The old one had deteriorated to beyond repairable, and even just getting the parts to make it reasonably serviceable was going to take a month, and I was quoted $800 without the track.

The old track. Note blotches of corrosion at the nearest end of the track.

The old traveller track and car are shown here. These are probably the original equipment fitted when the boat was new. Age has taken its toll.I'd already removed the end blocks with their completely seized pulley system.

New track and varnish. Note the reflection of the canvas in the steel riser. Shiny!

Garhauer provided a new track, sheet car and end blocks, and two huge and beautifully engineered stainless-steel 'risers' (to accommodate the straight track rather than the curved original) for $600, delivered in less than two weeks. I didn't really have the money set aside in the budget, but yet again I'm delighted with the result.

At about this stage one of the long-term marina occupants said: "You've given more attention to this boat in the last month than it's had in ten years". "I'm not finished yet." I muttered. Also about this time one of the local clubs had an annual Classic Boat Regatta and I gladly accepted an invitation to take a day off and sail out with Peter on Joss to have a look, and Gene and Pattie (from "Swell Dish") came along. Some beautiful old wooden boats, and I wish I'd taken more photos.

 But, back to work! The last set of parts had arrived; a combined depth and speed gauge, and new wind measurement device. The depth and speed device uses sensors placed through the bottom of the  hull, and the existing ones were not compatible. They can't be changed over while the boat is in the water, so out she had to come.

Getting almost 8 tonnes of boat out of the water was just a bit beyond even my extraordinary capabilities, so it's off to one of the local boatyards. First challenge was backing into the narrow dock with a significant cross wind and a fleet of people in Kayaks milling about. Sure enough, half a dozen on-lookers gathered to watch me make 3 efforts to get into a position where I could start the reversing. Once there I managed to get it in one shot though. Humiliation averted.

Hooray and up she rises!

Let's go walk-about.

Having gone to the trouble to get Hellcat out of the water, I figured I might as well put a new coat of paint on the undersides as well. That way I can be comfortably sure of not importing any exotic plant life from here that might be clinging to the bottom. Where does one start with a new coat of paint? With sanding. But I did enough of that last week! Fortunately the bottom was in pretty good shape, and the boatyard includes a high pressure wash as part of the haul-out cost, so the sanding was pretty straightforward and mercifully brief.

Old sensors under the cabin floor.

The two other jobs that I had to address were changing over the sensors that I mentioned earlier, and replacing the seal in the 'tube' that the post from the rudder rises up through and into the boat. In a masterful display of imagination, marine engineers have named these, respectively, the "rudder tube" and the "rudder post". Good one fella's. Engineers and creativity: two concepts rarely associated as correlates. Where was I? Oh yes, two jobs. One common factor, the components of each job are bloody difficult to reach. In fact with the sensors, the only way that I could get a clear idea of what was going on was to stick a camera into a cavity that I couldn't see into, take a picture, and do the work by touch. Eventually it got done, and I moved onto the next job.





Under the cockpit floor, way up in the slender cavity at the back of the boat, only accessible to the small, flexible or bloody minded, is a seal. Not the sea creature, the other one. No, not the stamp of authority, the other other one. Yes, for keeping water out. That one. This one didn't do that any more.

Rudder assembly, in a tight spot, behind cables, hoses and steering gear.

See that little green ring? It's got three bolts holding it down. Why three? Fair question. If they put four in it, then the two at the far side could be evenly spaced on each side, where they would be damnably awkward to reach. But if there's only three, and the layout is such that the back one is in the middle, then that's hilariously difficult. That thing I said about engineers having no imagination ... I take it back. Some right bastard did this deliberately!



So, sensors in, seal replaced ...

The painting was also done rapidly, and after the third day I stood back, near the stern, and thought it was all over. The new sensors were in, the paint was dry. "Hmm, what's that piece of crud on the propeller?" I wiped it off. "Hmm, what's the dark line that was hidden by the crud? Oh crap!"

The existing propeller. (removed, obviously.)

The bad news.

The dark line was a crack. A serious crack. A bad crack. There are no good cracks in propellers.This one said: "I'm a crack, and you've just lost several hundred dollars." I also lost any chance of getting back in the water until I sourced, paid for and fitted a new propeller.And staying in boatyards costs 'by the day'.

The solution: Smaller, lighter, stronger and an extra blade. More push!

The science of propellers competes with quantum mechanics in complexity for the uninitiated. I took a good look at it and thought "All I know is this is going to hurt my budget". And it did. Severely. In fact I was thinking that I might have crossed the line between continuing the project  and getting on a plane home.                             
It turns out though that I had overestimated what the boatyard fees, paint and parts were going to cost me. Yay! How much did I save? Almost exactly the cost of the new propeller. Hmm. I can live with that.

Get me out of this boatyard so I can spend the next three days trying to get blue boat paint out of places where the sun don't shine.

Motored back to the pen, and spent the next three days doing just that.


Well not 'just' that. I also did the wiring up from the sensors to the instruments, and paid yet another guy to go to the top of the mast and fit the sensors for the new wind instrument. Then wired that up.

The original Signet depth gauge.

The older Signet instruments were basic, if robust. The speed/distance 'log' wasn't working at all. The main drawback is that they can't talk to each other or the auto-pilot.

Wind instrument on the left, combined depth and speed on right,

My new pretty instruments are also pretty clever. These and the auto-pilot are all able to be 'networked'. Unfortunately I didn't get the same brand of chart-plotter, so that's putting some limits on the network capability, but when I next have some pocket money ...








So there it is, my progress over the last several weeks.

I'm now at the point where I need to spend about two hours tidying up the loose ends and debris, then buy provisions, get an exit clearance and sail away. Probably tomorrow. I'll let you know before I go though. Promise.


Wayne.

Hurry up and wait!

Oh dang ... a whole month has gone by.

So, here's the thing. I had three major projects (and lots of lesser ones!) that had to be completed before I could think about leaving. In no particular order these are:

• Acquire and commission an AIS system. (see Wikipedia article on AIS here.)
• Have the auto-pilot sent back to Raymarine for repair, hopefully under warranty
• Have the torn UV panels on the head-sail replaced.

A month later I find that sometimes it may be true that 'two out of three aint bad', but in this situation it isn't good enough. I know this because ... well, you've probably figured it out. One of them is still in waiting-on-somebody-else mode.

The AIS system looked, after my initial research, like it was going to consist of three different electronic components at a minimum cost of about $500; undoubtedly with a great deal of drama getting the three components to talk to each other as well. Then, thankfully before I had committed to purchasing that setup, I stumbled across a VHF radio that has AIS built in. And it will talk to my GPS/Charplotter. And it was only going to cost $450. And it has DSC. (Off you go to Wikipedia again.) To add the icing to the cake, if I couldn't get it to talk to my GPS, (so many acronyms!) or the GPS failed, it has it's own, admittedly quite small, display screen. I nearly swooned. But wait ... there's more! While researching that one, I discovered another model that has all the same features that I wanted, and it was only $230. I even managed, by myself, to get it to talk to the Chartplotter. The VHF radio that was on the boat when I bought it is still working, but I've now got two additional and significant safety devices built in, and I'll keep the old one for a 'back-up' unit.

What I see on the GPS. The green triangles are
other boats with AIS systems

The new toy

So there it is. Hooked up and working. It has been for a week now, and seems to work OK here in the harbour. Why do I say 'in the harbour'? Because I had it up and running from early this week, but the other two projects weren't done yet, so no sailing.Gaah!

Today I received the patched head-sail back from the sail loft. When I took it the local branch of North Sails I explained what I wanted done and the guy was all: "OK, lets have a look at it." So we took it out of the sail bag and he's looking pretty unimpressed. Then I said "It only has to get me back to Australia and I'll upgrade to something better.", thinking this would re-assure him. It had the opposite effect. His head jerked around to me and he said "You're sailing to Australia?". "Umm .. yes." He looked at the sail again, and then turned back to me with an expression that very eloquently said "Not with a sail in this condition you're not!". Le sigh.

So I left it with him, and he rang back the next day and said "OK, I can make it serviceable. But I'm not putting any guarantees on it.". Was a bit embarrassing, really. But it's done.The UV panels would have cost about $100 on their own. The patch up and strengthening cost $400.Pretty much what I'd saved on the AIS.

Which leaves us with the auto-pilot.In fairness to Raymarine, I must say that it took two weeks to get it to them. The first week I was fluffing around with it, trying to establish what, exactly, had gone wrong with it. Then there was a few days of being mucked around by the local Raymarine agent, so it only arrived at Raymarine two weeks ago, and there was public holiday in the middle of that. But if it isn't back by early next week I may have to make a phone call in my grumpy voice.Yeah, that'll scare 'em into action.

Some of the the numerous little jobs have been done. I'm finding it pretty difficult to get motivated though, as I keep thinking "no hurry, the big ones are all in wait mode." No doubt I'll get the auto-pilot back and suddenly realise that I'm only still here in California because I've been sitting on my behind and not being productive. So I've been making some effort in the last few days.  

In terms of planning, I'm re-evaulating my intention to stop over in the Marquesas and Tonga. I'm thinking I might provision for the whole trip, and lay a course that takes me within a day or two of those, and probably a few other ports, and see if can do it more or less non-stop. Then if I need to I can detour to the nearest, but keep going if all is well. I haven't committed to that, but it's certainly possible that I'll go down that path.


Toodles.

W.

PS:  I stumbled across the pic below on a local boat-parts retailer's web site.

Notice something? Apart from the obvious, obviously. The weather. It's quite calm. So how did they end up like this? The story, as told on the site, is that the boat was being filmed as part of a movie under production. The director wasn't happy with the way the boat was sailing along, all upright and calm, so to get it heel over and look more exciting, he instructed some of the crew to climb the mast and lean out to one side. Which they did. (You can see them still clinging on.) Further ... further ... too far!

I think the moral here is that 'looking exciting' isn't really what sailing is about. Now they just look stupid. 

Importance of seeing the big picture

The following is a 'reflection' I appended to my log entry on 14th April (day 7), at 1:00 am.


A boat at sea should be thought of, by those that want to be 'a crew', as a complete entity. To think of the boat as a set, or worse a collection of sets of tasks, spars and ropes, or as a mode of transport, is to fail to grasp something important that is going on out here.


The boat is my whole world for the duration of the journey. It is the sum and extent of things on which I can exert any direct influence, and my life, no less, depends on it. Off hand I'm not sure if that is re-assuring or terrifying, but I am certain that it is important, and that those 'that go down to the sea' do well to think of their vessel as a complete entity. And their 'vessel' it is, for it both contains and carries them, or doesn't do either, in accordance with the degree to which they have been mindful and caring for the complete entity that is a boat.

Now, several weeks later, I can't remember what inspired those thoughts. It was something to do with taking a holistic view of the experience, clearly. But it was also a reflection on focussing on details and in doing so missing out on appreciating the whole concept of what a boat is and what it can do. The boat can be lost for the failure of a small bolt or piece of wire, and those things are thus important, sometimes crucial. But their importance is in what they contribute to the integrity of the whole; and looking after those things is not done for its own sake, but for the well-being of the boat.

The fact that I wrote it at one o'clock in the morning may have had something to do with it as well. :P

whoops ... were did the time go?

errr ... sorry 'bout that.

So I went home, did the stuff that needed doing (most of it, anyway), and flew back here a couple of days ago. I'm now back on-board Hellcat, compiling a list of what needs to be done before I make the second attempt at a passage home.

The great thing about compiling lists of things to do is that it feels constructive, and is much easier than actually doing the stuff that you put on the list.

I took a couple of days putting the below-decks area back into livable space after the sudden departure. I'm reasonably happy with it now. I've re-organised some of the storage spaces, and done some wood oiling. No, seriously, the interior woodwork is teak, and in places was effected by water ingress discolouring the teak surfaces. Not enough to set rot in, but looking at it after an absence of a couple weeks I was surprised at how obviously the teak was marked where water had trickled across it. There were pale streaks across the front of the lockers and shelf facings. A simple fix was to wipe across the surfaces with a rag soaked in teak oil. Ahh ...'s pretty again!

I promised a couple of excerpts from the log I maintained in the first attempt. I'll put one up right now, in a separate post.

Cheers.

Journey to nowhere

Or at least, just back to where I started.

So, here's the thing. On the 7th of April, I set off for the Marquesas Islands. Yes I know, I didn't blog for days before that and didn't tell you what was happening, and it's all terribly unfair. Dry your eyes princess, I was busy.

So off we went. The forecast was great. We should have had 5 days of steady north-westerly winds at about 15 knots, which is ideal. And when we set off, that's just what we had. A 'beam reach', probably the best combination of fast and comfortable sailing. 7 knots we were doing. 7, I tells ya! For about 6 hours. Then we were becalmed for about 3 hours. Then the wind came back, and went away again. So we were becalmed for about 12 hours in the first 3 days, but still managed 300 nm (nautical miles (540 km. 1 nautical mile is about 1.8 km)).

Unfortunately, Going neither fast or comfortably, nor on a reach, run or tacking into the wind, made any difference to the crew being sea-sick. It was not good, and it didn't go away.

Anyway, we were out of sight of land by sunrise on the second day. That's when it really sinks in, for me at least, that this is a big ocean. There's nothing but water as far as the eye can sea. And it isn't flat at all. The ocean swells mean that parts of it are always moving. Really big parts, sometimes. It can be really eerie to have the boat sink down into a small valley, and you're looking up at the water all around you, even when it's relatively calm. Then later you're sailing along on the top of a small hill of water, and everything is 'down', and you can see other small hills of water moving around the landscape. Took some getting used to.

The boat was boarded by seas creatures on three occasions. And they were ... squid. Not giant attacking squid rising from the deep.Little things, not much bigger than my thumb. One of them actually made it into the cockpit. I'm not sure how, but it didn't end well for the squid. It must have been washed into the cockpit during the night, and ended up under my feet. All I knew was, when the sun came up, there was squid ink smeared around the cockpit floor, where I had apparently trampled the poor thing to an inglorious end. So it goes.

There were a couple of periods of just about every variety of weather available, and we were consistently managing 100 nm per day. I was, apart from James continuing to be sick, pretty satisfied. Then on day 9 the autopilot gave up the ghost. This, it occurred to me almost immediately, was 'not good'.

A quick decision was made, and that was that we couldn't continue with  sick crew member and no autopilot for the remaining 1800 nm to Nuku Hiva. Hawaii was almost as far, and Mexico was something like 1100 nm. Our starting point, Channel Islands Harbor was 'only' 950 nm behind us. So, around we went, heading back.

The weather, I would have to say, was not kind to us on the way back. Not severe, but coming from exactly where we wanted to go, for about 5 days straight. The sailors among you will know that this means tacking. For 5 days. But we got through it, and slipped back into the same pen that we started from some 19 days and 1954nm later.

The plan now is that I'll fly home to get some administrative stuff sorted, and the two fillings that fell out of my teeth during the trip replaced, then come back and try again. James has decided that a sailor's life is not for him, and has resigned from the project. So it's back to my original plan ... doing it solo!

I fly out of LAX tomorrow night, and should be back home in sunny Stawell on ... err ... Tuesday, I think. Then I'll be back here in two to three weeks, do the repairs and make some changes based on my first attempt, and try again.I'm really pleased with how the boat handled the variety of conditions, and with the lessons learned from the first attempt, I'm even more confident that this can be done. Not easily, but it can be done.

I'll transcribe a couple of my 'reflections' from the ships log in the next couple of posts, but that will be a few days away, as I'll be travelling and so on.

Toodly pip.

How Embarrasment, and some progress

OK, the embarrassing part first. Imagine, if you will, that your car doesn't have any brakes. To stop the car you have to let the revs die down, and put it in reverse. Then turn off the motor before it starts to move you backwards. Further, this imaginary car doesn't haven't an 'Off' position on the ignition, instead it just shuts off the engine if you take your foot off the accelerator. Now imagine trying to park in a place where there is a wall at the end, but you must fit the car neatly and completely inside the space.

Well parking a boat in a pen is bit like that. Mine is a bit more of an accident waiting to happen than most, because someone decided to disconnect the engine 'kill' switch, and allow the throttle to to operate as a shut-down mechanism if you pull it all the way back to the normal 'Idle' position..

So last night after another sail that started with a period of being becalmed and turned into a great sail later, I got back to the pen, lined it up perfectly, and just where I got to the point where I'm supposed to select Reverse to bring it to a stop, I bring the throttle back too far and shut off the engine. The boat, which weighs several tonnes, is still rapidly moving forward towards the end of the pen which is only a few metres away. Then things got much worse. The engine wont start with the throttle in the 'kill' position, so I push it forward. Unfortunately, in my haste, I push it way too far. Then I hit the Start button, forgetting that the boat is still in Forward gear. The motor roars into life at pretty much full throttle, and the boat surges forward into the end of the pen. I don't think I can adequately describe the image as the bow of the boat actually started to slide up onto the footpath area of pen, and then slid off sideways, banging the side of the hull into the side wall of the pen. By this time I had gathered my wits enough to kill the engine, again. And I certainly don't think I should repeat the words that I said. It was something like "Oh dear, that wasn't quite what I intended to do". Perhaps a few other words as well.

Fortunately there was no significant damage to either the pen or the boat, and it was well after dark so there wasn't any one around to witness my misadventure, but I spent most of the night calling myself all kinds of stupid.

So, putting that behind me, a quick list of the things I did today ... spliced the anchor rope onto the anchor chain (so the windlass can pull both up without having to deal with a joining shackle), fitted one cleat and replaced a seized one, and this ...

Before ...

After!

 Well, OK I didn't actually do it, but I organised a sign-writer, so I can claim that 'I got it done'. Being a requirement of Australian ship registration, I'm not allowed to have it in anything than boring old block letters.


And, um, yeah, that's about it. Doesn't seem like much when I put them in a list. No matter, it's progress!

Oh ... I also figured out how to place pictures in this blog. Unfortunately I didn't get any pictures of the 2 large pods of dolphins that came close to the boat during two recent sails. When I say large I mean well over 20. That's a lot of dolphins playing around a boat. Maybe next time.

Bed time here. Later all!

EDIT: PS. I forgot to note that the solar panel has arrived, and is taking up the couch in the cabin while awaiting installation. My 'sparky' says he can't get here till Tuesday.(sad face).

Sailing ... that's what I'm talking about!

Solar panel hasn't arrived yet  :<

It  has however been occupying my mind. I checked out my second preference for a mounting spot and it won't fit there either! Crap. So now it looks like I'm going to have to build a frame for it to sit on or over the stern rail. Not a huuuge cost, but big enough to feel. More aggravating is the time factor. It will no doubt take an extra couple of days to get it installed.

On the bright side ...

A couple of good sailing sessions in the last few days!

On Saturday I took the boat out for what was meant to be a 2 -3 hour trip out to a local navigation mark, an offshore platform called "Gina". It's about 4 miles out from the harbour, and I figured it would be about a 2 hour round trip, max. Just as we cleared the breakwater the wind started to die out, and continued to fade.

After 3 hours of bobbing up and down on the pacific swell, and going nowhere, I was still less than a quarter of the way along the outward leg. How, I hear you ask, does this qualify as 'a good sail'? The good part was that I persisted in trying to make the return trip, until well after sundown. Eventually the 'evening change' in the wind came through, and suddenly we were moving along at a tidy 5+ knots in the dark. So it was a good practice session for night sailing. And it was just fun. When I made it to the mark I was seriously tempted to keep going for a couple of miles further. It was however, late enough to convince me to turn around and head back.

Sunday was cold and raining, so we stayed in. More snow on the local ranges. It makes for an odd effect when I get up, seeing snow covered ranges while standing on boat. Apart from some inland lakes I don't think there's anywhere in Australia where I can do that.

Last night we ran out of gas for the stove, and the only place that sells the right sort of gas refills is about 5 miles up the coast, in Ventura Harbor. Yes I know 'harbour' is supposed to have a 'u' in it. It's an American place and therefore has the US spelling. OK? (And Yup, that's the same “Ventura” from the 70's song.It turns out that there is no "Ventura Highway" though. Perhaps it grew into the Freeway? Or perhaps they were just referring to 'a' highway near Ventura? Dunno, but there aint no Highway called Ventura Highway.) Anyway, back to the story ...the last time we ran out of gas one of the locals gave James a lift up there to get a refill. I was thinking of asking for another lift today, when it occurred to me that it was a good distance for a short sail, so we did. And it was a great afternoon. A pleasant 15 knot breeze and we were making 6 knots in a boat not particularly prepared for pace. A great afternoon's sailing.

Parked for lunch

One of the batteries is showing some erratic output, so I guess I'll have to replace the old pair that I was going to take a chance on. I'm already a week over my target departure date and starting to feel just a bit frustrated. 

Get me out of here!

Almost there

... if 'there' is defined as 'not here'. Which is probably an unnecessarily complicated way of saying 'nearly ready to go'.

Today I retrieved the head-sail from the sailmaker. All repaired and strengthened at the main attachment points. Also had the 'rigger' back to replace some stuff at the mast-head and run a couple of new halyards. My productive contribution was to scrape the old home port information off the stern. So Hellcat no longer boasts of being from "Channel Islands California". I'll get a quote from the local boat-signage people to put "Melbourne" on there, as I suspect it will be cheaper to get it done here than at home.

The last lot of work is for the marine electrician to do a heap of installations. (Autopilot, windlass, separate cranking battery, solar panel.) Can't really finish that until the solar panel arrives next week though. I found a 100 watt panel for about A$250 and ordered (and paid) for it, as it was far and away the cheapest I had seen for that output. Next day, sure enough, I saw the identical panel on eBay for less than $200. Oh well. No point losing sleep over it. At 100 watts it should provide enough to replace all our battery drain, on all but the cloudiest days. I do have to figure where on the boat I'm going to mount the thing though, as it's bigger than what I had intended to get, and wont fit in the old spot. That could take some thinking about.

Off to bed. It's late. But at least I got a new post done in less than a week. Pretty impressive, huh?

Late update.

Whoops … been neglecting keeping this up to date. Sorry about that. Consequently, this post will be a bit less structured than some of the others (don't be rude, they weren't all as chaotic as this one) as it's been cobbled together from some posts that I started to make and didn't finish, along with content from some interim emails that I've sent to various people.

So, what to report? Finally made the Australian Ship registration thing happen. Yep, Hellcat is now officially an Australian! This involved a fair bit of email 'to and fro' with the Ship Registration Office at AMSA, but it came good. I now have a Certificate of Provisional Registration which is valid for six months, and allows me to sail home and complete the rest of the full registration requirements in the interim. Actually, the only requirement that is still outstanding is the 'marking', which entails putting the 'ship' number and name on various parts of the boat but that, weirdly, would have added several weeks to the process, and I wanted to get sailing sooner rather than later.

Once I had that document in hand I could approach the Customs and Border Protection (CBP) authorities here and apply for a Cruising Licence. This effectively allows me to sail around the US without having to do the formal exit an re-entry process every time, although I am still required to report my arrival and show the Licence when I change locations. A change in location is loosely defined as moving from the region covered by one CBP office to any place covered by a different CBP office. The requirement to have one is, I guess, a product of the American sense of vulnerability in a post 9-11 world. (Australia has, to my knowledge, no such requirement of foreign flag vessels.) Whatever its origins, the local authorities around this part of California very rarely issue them. So when I wandered into the Port Heumene CBP office and said I wanted a Cruising Licence, I was met by blank stares by the first three people I spoke to. Actually the first response was “Do you have an appointment?”, followed by “Bad timing, we're all about to head out the door and go home”. My voice may have been a little terse when I pointed out that a) their web site doesn't mention making an appointment, and I had been on the phone to their office twice that day and it wasn't mentioned; b) I had walked several miles to get there; and c) their web site states that the office hours are 9 to 5, and it was only 4pm. Then came the blank looks about what I was asking for. Finally they directed me to someone who had actually issued one several years ago.

After sifting through their computer applications and advising me that the last time he did one it was just hand-written on a form, he produced what looks more like a letter than a licence, but it does say all the right things, and has an impressive stamp on it. At the conclusion of the exercise he handed it over, and I asked with some trepidation how much it cost. I had read various figures of $35 to $500, and had come prepared with $200. He looked a bit blank, and said, “It's a free service, there is no charge”, which was both a pleasant and novel surprise, which I tactfully declined to explain to him.

So I made the walk back to the boat in good spirits. Did I mention that I had walked to the CBP office? A mere 7-ish kilometres in a hurry, and I did the return briskly as well, in the hope of getting in some sailing that same day. It wasn't to be though as I got back too late and too tired. The reason I mention it now is to explain why I have been limping for the last few days. Oh, I really didn't mention that bit before. It's partly because I did the walk wearing a pair of runners. It's partly because I did it in a hurry. And it's partly because when I was a lad I accidentally cut off the big toe of my right foot. (Weren't expecting that last one, were you?!) It's a long story of which I wont go into the details. Suffice it to say that it was sewed back on, in what was probably 'cutting edge' surgery (pun intended) in the early 1970's, but it isn't fully functional. The relevant part of this is that long-distance walks in shoes without adequately stiff soles place inordinate strain on the calf muscles of my right leg. It's a product of the way we walk, pushing off with the toes with each step … Oh look, just take my word for it, OK? Thing is, I went to bed expecting to wake up with blisters on my feet, which turned out to not be there, and not expecting severe pain in my right leg, which was there. And still is several days later, but only when I walk for a while in runners. I guess it will come good, and I've discovered that I can walk around without severe pain as long as I'm wearing hard soled shoes. Problem is that hard soled shoes and boats do not go well together. Le sigh.

Right, that little digression out of the way ...

Preparations continue apace. The Satphone has arrived, but now I'm waiting on the 'pre-paid' vendor to activate the SIM card so I can actually access the system. I've also made enquiries to another retailer about establishing a 'post paid' account. So as things stand the Satphone is currently an expensive paperweight.

As I may have mentioned earlier, the boat came with a manual anchor windlass which was thoroughly seized. I salvaged the gypsy (a wheel for reeling in chain) and capstan, which handles rope, (Oh god, I've contracted "Yachties' Hoarding Syndrome") and dumped the rest. I then invested in a very pretty brand new and shiny electric windlass that I'm getting a pro to install. It's a recently superseded Lewmar model I got for $600, whereas they are usually well over $1000.

So, now having a Cruising Licence, I've made two forays out of the pen, each achieving about 3 hours of sailing. First sail went well, even though the leech line on the Genoa snagged the lower spreader and tore out like a zip coming undone. Second sail the footer tape on the Genoa quietly detached itself along most of the sail 'foot'. On inspection I found that the stitching (not the fabric) that is exposed when the Genoa is furled has all but perished. The stitching and fabric 'inside the furl' are OK. So the headsail is now with a Sail-maker to have the sail-edge stitching redone and the head and tack refurbished. For the non-nautical readers, the furler is a device that rolls the head sail up to store 'in situ' rather than having to take it down and put it back up again each time one goes sailing. It also allows for the sail to be reduced in area for sailing in heavy weather without having to change sails at sea. They are a wonderful invention all round. But when the sail is 'furled', part of the sail is still exposed to the weather, and as this boat hasn't been used for at least a couple years, the exposed section has deteriorated. Now if you read this paragraph again it will make more sense. Or I could re-write the paragraph. Nah, you do the work this time.

Otherwise we are nearly there. The 'sparky' (slang term for an electrician) that's doing the Windlass is also going to install the autopilot, a cranking battery, and probably a solar panel. Locals are trying to talk me into buying an 80W panel for $650, but I'm not convinced that I need that much, so I'm aiming at about 40 watts that I can get for much less than half the price of the bigger unit.

A rigger is coming on Monday to do my masthead jobs, which consist of replacing the anchor light and VHF antennae which are both severely deteriorated by exposure to the weather, and installing 2 (!) external emergency/utility halyards. I've already made two trips to the first spreader, which is only about a third of the way up, and that's high enough for me, thank you very much. After that it's pretty much 'provision' and go.

As an aside, I've come to the realisation that I have to stop even listening to local advice on what one 'must have' fitted to one's boat. With one exception, all the people that have made such advice have 'just the thing' available to sell to me at a 'good price'. The one exception is another cruising yachtie in a boat a couple of pens up the dock, who is also preparing his boat for a south pacific trip. He did make one suggestion that would have cost me several hundred dollars to implement, but came back a couple of hours later and said “Thinking about where you said you're going, you wont need that, so forget it, your current setup is OK”. Nice old bloke, is Barry. Deaf as a door post, but nice. I've started to interrupt people who say "what you need is ..." by saying "Don't tell me what it is, just tell me how much it will cost and I'll tell you if it has a chance of happening"

Another source of help has been the broker that represented the former owner in the purchase. He recently suggested that it would be useful for us to have a dinghy for getting around the marina and nearby shops, and before I could interrupt him as above, he added "I think I can get you one free. Old and needs work, but free". And he has done so. It is old, and needs work, but it was free. James has started on the repairs. The broker has also allowed me to use his frequent-buyer discount arrangement with the local chandlers, which has saved me something in the order of $200. Another nice chappie.

 

I had set the 22nd as a target departure date, but with the Genoa being in a shop that wont look at it 'til Monday, and waiting to resolve the Satphone, and the electrical works that wont even start until Tuesday, that's pretty much certain to be pushed back a couple of days.

Had a couple of lazy days this weekend (I'm writing this Sunday night, local time). We've had the first rain since about 6 weeks ago (a good leak test which revealed only one leak to fix) with strong winds. All that and having no headsail, means no sailing and instead catching up on 'in cabin' stuff, like writing emails, experimenting with on-board cooking, and even updating this blog instead of the test sailing that I would otherwise be doing.

Well that'll do for now. Once again apologies for the long gap. I'll try to be more frequent with updates until departure day.