Catching up ...

I should know better than to think I should try to catch up in a sort of ordered way before posting current events - it just leads to bloggers block ...

I had an interesting sail in The Clyde and the South West this year. The canal trips were a bit expensive - a return trip through the Caledonian, and one through the Crinan - which I hadn't tried before. It's very pretty, and more like a narrow boat trip.

Here are some photos:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/ajax_pc/albums/72157673466872866

I was mostly on my own but sometimes had one or two crew. I spend a nostalgic few days in The Clyde, where I had haven't sailed since I was last on a sailing course there in 1992 (John Major's re-election was a notable event of that week - the somewhat left wing crew and the ex RN skipper both displaying a good deal of tact and consideration). I also visited some relatives I haven't seen for far too long.

Other highlights included Arran, Islay, Colonsay, Jura, Staffa, Tiree, Sound of Iona, Mull, Loch Etive, and Loch Eil.

This is one of my favourite photos:



It was taken from two or three hundred metres up a hillside on south side of Loch Etive. Raasay is a visible speck, and you can pick out the dinghy on the near shore with some patience. Follow the link to the full size file on flickr if you have nothing better to do!

I got a fright on my way back down, because a breeze started to come up the loch and Raasay was dragging as I was motoring back across. The tide was still rising, fortunately ...

The charts show an anchorage, but I think it's mostly rock and weed. I had spent the night there before going for my walk, so things could have been worse. I'm sure I'd have wakened up if I had dragged earlier, but I'd rather not think about it.

Connell Bridge was interesting - it's pretty swirly there even at neeps. I think I had about a metre or two clearance - the calculations seemed as dreams and illusions when I was watching the mast go under. It was a little after HW Springs, which gave me some leeway and also meant I had a chance of turning round ...

The loch and the glen were stunning. It would be worth spending a few days there and taking the opportunity to walk up towards Glen Coe. If I could get safely anchored ...

Moving onto the pontoon, Findhorn

Angus and I moved Raasay onto the pontoons on Monday (21st). This turned out to be trickier than I thought:

All boats on the pontoons have to point into the outgoing tidal stream, so we had to reverse into the berth we'd been allocated. We were able to to this at slack water, and will also be fine on an outgoing tide (as we'll be motoring slowly forward and moving - slightly less slowly - backwards). It doesn't look possible on an incoming tide, or with awkward wind conditions.

I should be able to work out some kind of warp ballet that will keep us safe. Here's what we look like now:






And well tied up - the tidal current through the pontoons exceeds two knots.

A berth on the 'down tide' side might be possible, but has some other disadvantages which I can't immediately remember. Reversing out against a flooding tide might be one ...

Back to Findhorn - first sail of the season.

I drove up to Inverness on Saturday stopping in at Findhorn on the way to have a look at the estuary at low water - one of the lowest tides of the year, as it happens.

I walked out on the sand to the furthest point on the eastern side of the estuary. The 'straight out' channel is now deeper than the old dog-leg to the west. I could see there was a foot or so of water in it, while there was a clear bank of sand blocking the western outlet. I collected the necessary GPS data to get me in - the seasonal channel bouys won't be laid for another few weeks.

On Thursday I paid up in Inverness, and took the early afternoon tide under the bridge and down the firth. There were slight southerly winds, but I wasn't in a hurry and mostly sailed.  Off Nairn bay, the wind swung round to the east - it must have been a very local effect -  but otherwise I was reaching slowly or motoring.

As I passed the Findhorn entrance it was low water again and I could have a look from the sea.

The channel is just about on a transit made by the first and third marker posts (the middle one is west of this line). You can't follow this straight in, though, because once you're over the bar you need to turn to starboard to avoid the sandbank to the east. One of the things I picked up on Wednesday night was a waypoint about fifty metres west of the main channel just as it goes over the bar - I could see I would have to turn to starboard once I passed it. I should have checked the actual heading (I'd picked out a point on the opposite bank I'd need to steer towards).

After my seaward reconnoitre I anchored near the beach in Burghead bay.

In fact, I anchored opposite the point  where my canoe was last seen ... On Friday morning I scanned the shoreline in case it had been uncovered. 

A traffic cone looked enough like it to lure me ashore in the dinghy - a long trip, as my unserviced outboard refused to start. I didn't land. I could see what I was heading for once I was thirty or forty metres from it.

It seemed more canoe-ish from half a mile off.                               

About a quarter to twelve, I lifted the anchor and headed for the entrance waypoint that I'd marked. High tide was due at about half past one, and I wanted to be going over the bar with some tide still to make, just in case.   

In the event, my plan worked fine. I didn't see a reading  below 2.8 on the sounder (I have a .8 offset, so that's 3.6 metres), and that was only briefly.

At about  one o'clock I picked up a  boatyard mooring. They've offered me a pontoon berth, but they're seasonal and won't be laid out for another week or so. I'll get the bus to Inverness tomorrow to pick up my car.

Stowing the liferaft

I've had the liferaft stowed in the forward end of the cockpit for the past two seasons - it looked like this:

I made a temporary 'bridgedeck' that could be quickly removed but was strong enough to stand, or even jump, on.

This worked amazingly well, despite appearances.  That's why it lasted two seasons ...

The liferaft was safe and handy, and I had a useful place to put dishes and other utensils while standing at the galley. It also made sitting across the forward end of the cockpit more comfortable.

However, it wasn't ideal - the cannister was in the way a bit for the helmsman (on the rare occasions that I was manually helming ...), and the advantages of the 'bridgedeck' could be achieved with a smaller structure.

Also, I'd seen a Rival 34 (Southern Rival) with the liferaft stowed very conveniently just in front of the mast, in a location rarely needed for anything else.

So now it looks like this:



It was after dark (4pm) by the time I finished up.

I have a couple of things to tidy - I'm not too happy with the quick release strap supplied with the cradle.

Gimbal tamer.

I've never had the cooker right out on Raasay. The space behind it needed a good clean, and I wanted to fit a device to stop it gimballing when it wasn't required. I might call this device 'the toaster', because it allows the oven door to be opened without tipping the contents of the oven, as well as anything standing on the hob, into the cook's lap.

Taking things apart more often might be a good idea. Here is something that looked very disturbing:

The thought that I'd been sailing around for two or three years with this apparent repair hanging down the back of the cooker made me feel quite lucky. In a bad way.

Further exploration showed the armour to be intact, but to have been rubbing on the back of the stove - thus the semi-protective (or wishfully protective?) electrical tape. I looked to see if there was a way of rigging the link so that it wouldn't rub, but came up with this solution instead:

It will take a very long time to rub through, and should terrify any future owner at least as thoroughly as the tape terrified me. The blotch is glue from an old label, not the consequence of some mishap.

Cleanup in progress:

I didn't boil the water before removing the stove, but had, as normal, decanted the remains of the morning kettle into a flask. Luckily.

Here's the outcome - an open oven door, thanks to my very nautical arrangement of string and cleat:

And then I made a toasted cheese sandwich. A safe toasted cheese sandwich.

Talking heads: unpleasant tasks ...

I installed a holding tank in Raasay soon after bringing the boat home. I was on a swinging mooring in a tidal estuary with a public beach ...

Also several hundred seals, mind you. Not sure about that one.

Anyhow:

Since the installation, I've never quite managed to stop the heads from backfilling. I have high loops, a tank vent, and a siphon break, but still get occasional problems. Also smells. I know the non-return valves in the pump should stop this, but they really don't look like they're meant to be a tight seal.

I can always give the bowl a quick pump with the lid open, but generally the need for this only reveals itself just after a tack on a hard beat. Not when I have a moment that needs filled up with a little job. So to speak.

So, one of today's objectives was to fit a separate non return valve close to the pan. I wasn't looking forward to it.

At the planning stage (ever optimistic) I imagined doing this by reaching behind the bowl, but on site it was obvious I was going to have to take everything out to get at it well enough to do the job properly. Advanced stage 1 looked like this:

Unfortunately (?) I haven't been able to photographically represent the smell.

A little later things looked like this:

And the whole boat, plus a considerable part of Inverness Marina, now smells of Milton.

Preliminary tests suggest that this will solve the problem. I discourage the disposal of toilet paper via the heads (a convenient polythene bag is provided), so everything which isn't the byproduct of a medical emergency should pass through.

I'm sure there will be a few brisk Spring days which will test the theory ...