Ionian - June 2010

Monday 24^th. May 2010

Greece is bust. The Germans have bailed out the Greek economy and the IMF has imposed heavy demands on what the Greek government has to do in return for shed loads of Euros.

However, life goes on and Zorba and his wife still manager a smile as we meet them in the street. Maybe it’s the thought of fresh Euros going through their tills that prompts the smile but somehow I doubt it. The Greeks are a happy tribe and it takes more than a mountain of debt and VAT at 23% (from 1^st. July) to shroud them in gloom. For a nation that built the Pathenon, invented Euclid geometry and taught the Romans a thing or two about celestial navigation then a blip in the economy is no more than a minor pimple on an otherwise impressive complexion.

We arrived in Corfu on Monday, one place where the air traffic controllers didn’t recently go on strike because they knew the island, and many of their friends and relatives, depend upon tourists for a livelihood. We got in at 10.30 local time, 8.30am UK time, so you can imagine what time we left Gatwick and by backwards plotting what time we left home. Suffice it to say we didn’t have any sleep for getting on for 36 hours. Crazy.

We got on the boat, a 31 foot French production number of a certain age. Perfectly sound boat if a little dated. Biggest minus is the lack of hot water which makes washing up a tad more of a chore than it usually is and a shower becomes a right old palaver involving a ’solar shower bag’, basically a black plastic bag which holds water which heats up with the sun. You then stand under the spray. It’s very green, has no CO2 footprint and is about as useless as a chocolate teapot. We hate ‘em.

Big Game Hunting.

As the first rays of sunshine landed on Oxfordshire this week we stirred from the winter hibernation and reminded ourselves that warm weather equals sailing. Well, that’s the theory.

The rise in air temperature was sufficient for us to head south with friends Margie and Steve (Lagoon owners) to resume our search for a big cat. Not the big game hunting you’d expect to find in Africa, although mind you they do produce some fine beasts down there, but no these cats were French, didn’t bite, positively purred with comfort but were no slouches with a breeze up their tail.

We were VIP guests of Fontaine-Pajot keen to show off their new Lipari 41 which we’d seen at Southampton along with half a million others, or so it seemed. After half an hour or so of wandering around (it really is that big), and having run out of cupboards to open, the engines were started and we headed out into the Solent. Not much wind but enough to hoist the sails and check out the light airs performance. She actually did rather well. Six knots through the water for 12 knots true. She tacked well enough and didn’t need the jib to be backed. Under power she was very manoeuvrable, as you’d expect with a couple of 30HP Volvos and variable pitch props. Jo was taken with the galley but lamented the lack of work surfaces. The heads in the guest hull were fine and Jo was very impressed by the washing machine in the starboard forward locker but we thought the shower in the owner’s cabin a bit cheap and bordered on the skinflint! Karen, the helpful F-P agent in the UK, said the shower could be upgraded. The right answer.

We liked the way all lines lead back to the helm position but were not impressed by the lack of vision of the port stern from the helm. When docking that could be embarrassing. The instruments were viewed through the spokes of the wheel and programming the chartplotter was awkward. The autopilot (Furuno) worked a dream and was totally silent unlike the Raymarine kit we had on Starquest. It held the course and impressed. The helm nav kit layout needs some more thought. However, by contrast the internal nav station was one of the best we’ve seen. Not only is it very practical but looks as if it’s actually designed to be used, unlike a lot of chart tables in cats which are token additions, presumably because for the charter market they are not used. The owner’s suite was spacious and the ‘office’ (well desk space, cupboard and shelves) was usable. The guest cabins were sensible doubles with a generous heads.

A large deck locker gobbled up the fenders, anchor chain and warps. It also housed the electric windlass with dual control; from the helm and also from the foredeck.

Engine access seemed good but there was not enough room in the engine bays to accommodate a generator. That would have to be sited in a deck locker in the cockpit.

Sail operation was effortless thanks to some beefy winches and the dinghy was easy to raise and lower thanks to some sturdy davits. Standard practice is to leave the outboard on the dinghy – which is just as well because there’s no way we’d be able to lift the 9.9HP brute perched on the stern.

Conclusions? Well, the test sail did impress. But, one very annoying habit the French have is to quote a basic price and then ‘extras’. Except the extras and not extras at all but essentials! This means the ‘basic’ price is about as meaningless as a politician’s promise. Who do they think they are kidding? One can’t help but feel being taken for a ride.

That apart, we liked the boat much more than we thought we would and she handled well in light airs. A passing ferry did make us bob about a bit and that made us wonder how she’d handle in a bigger sea. We’d need to go out in something more than a Force 2-3 to find out. With a few reservations, and the sour taste of their crazy pricing policy, we loved it. But how will she compare to the new Lagoon 400? Stay tuned.

Stuck in Harbour

We are stuck in harbour. The snow has almost cut off the village with just a few cars, mainly four-wheel-drives and the odd tractor, venturing out. This morning we had three days supply of food and just three months supply of wine. Dangerously low on both as you’ll appreciate.

With the supplies of salt running low we decided not to use it in cooking. We like to do our bit to help out the government in these difficult times.

We suspect the road through the village will drop off the council’s ‘must salt’ list following the announcement by the hilariously named Lord Adonis that councils must reduce salt usage by 25%. When that happens the village will be cut off as nothing, not even Waitrose delivery van, will get through. We’ve had no post for several days now, the dustmen have vanished, no buses are running, couriers no longer visit but somehow the newsagent, who is more than a mile away, manages to get a daily paper to us each morning.

So around half past twelve this afternoon we dug the car out of the drifts in the drive and set off for Charlbury…and the Co-op. Roads not too bad, bit of ice where the newly built bridge crosses the road and the scene of several icy accidents recently. All, apparently, involving teachers from Chipping Norton School. How weird is that? Anyway we managed to get to the Co-op but sadly their delivery lorry had not. Shelves were a bit empty, no fruit or veg at all, and the meat counter was starting to look like the shelves of an East German shop before the re-unification. Anyway we topped up with bread, some fish, oven chips (now how long is it since we had them?), milk, cans of soup and some pasta. We are now able to survive for a further ten days.

Pass the Ionian pilot – we’ll keep warm by planning the summer cruises.

End of an Era

1st. December 2009

Well, we’ve done it. Starquest is sold…and we’re still not sure we’ve done the right thing!

At six o’clock this morning I scraped the ice off the car windscreen and drove to Chichester. The air temperature gradually rose from minus three in the Cotswolds to plus three at the marina. It may have been three degrees above freezing but that did not stop the jetty being icy and treacherous.

I met up with the new owner and Ken from the brokerage. We started up the engine, did the checks, let go the lines and we were off. Well, almost off. The marina would not release the spare set of keys as “Mr. Taylor has not paid the mooring bill.” As I’d visited the marina office less than half an hour before and handed over a cheque I was less than chuffed. A phone call and they ‘found’ the cheque, it transpires there are three ‘Starquests’ in the marina – hence the confusion. But with time slipping away and the destination tide-critical we decided to pick up the keys later.

Quite a current floods in through the lock and Ken advised being locked-through even though free-flow was in operation. Clearly the right decision as we’d otherwise had been bounced all over the place and putting a dent in the proud new owner’s pride and joy would not be the best way for them to start a beautiful new friendship.

The sun was shining, the sky blue, it was a crisp morning with hardly a ripple on the water. If you have to move a boat in December we had picked the right day.

The destination was the Hayling Yacht Company which is tucked up a tiny creek with lots of opportunities to get stuck on the putty. Our delay leaving the marina meant that we now did not have a rising tide but were about to have a falling tide. One touch may mean a long wait. We managed to feel our way up the creek and tied up alongside a pontoon – although it was not at all obvious where we were supposed to go.

Sails were removed, keys were handed over, and I said farewell to Starquest. The old girl now has a new owner… I hope he looks after her.

It was dark when I left home this morning and it was getting dark when I got back. It was a dark day…. but we must look on the bright side. The search now starts to find Starquest II.

Remember Summer?

This was the scene one evening in May when we fetched up in Newtown Creek just to the east of Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight.

Why are we posting it now? Well, firstly it's a nice picture and secondly we have not been afloat for some weeks and so have no new snaps to share.

Sitting here in chilly Oxford the stillness and silence of the creek seems a million miles away. There is a salutatory lesson to be heeded from this tale.

The following morning we had a cooked breakfast (why is it bacon tastes even better when the smell drifts across a mooring?) and afterwards started the engine to return to Gosport. Well, to be more accurate, we tried to start the engine. It coughed and spluttered and it was pretty obvious this donkey was not for stirring. We did all the usual checks; fuel (60 galls), fuel pump (working), electrical connections (all looked sound). So, we reminded ourselves that Starquest is a sailing boat and as wind is her primary power we'd better sail out. There was a little breeze, luckily from the south, and so we slipped the mooring and with two-thirds of the genoa set we picked our way through the trots and into the Solent. Once out into clear water we hoisted the main, unfurled all the genny and headed east.

At Cowes we lost the wind and by Gillkicker we lost the tide. The donkey was still fast asleep and so we had to rely on the mercy of the marina for a tow in.

An engineer's report subsequently identifed the problem - no fuel. Yes, we'd run out of diesel! How could it happen we are always so careful and we'd checked there were 60 gallons of fuel in the tank. Well, it transpires the red diesel had stained the sight tube and what we thought was a full tank was, in fact, empty. Our peek into the tank gave us a false idea of what was there. A very shallow depth of fuel laying on the bottom of the tank reflected to look like an almost full tank. If only we'd dipped the tanks, but we could 'see' it was full and besides the sight tube 'confirmed' it.

We now have two dipsticks, monitor fuel usage on a trip-by-trip basis and still blush at running out of fuel.

I am so pleased we don't have a motor boat.

Blisters to be Lanced

Afloat off Thailand.

The time has come to break the news to the old girl that she’s going to be spending several months out of the water, those unsightly blisters will have to be lanced and she’ll have hot pads attached to her nether regions and all in the name of looking better. Think of it as maritime cosmetic surgery; on a woman it would be liposuction, or a boob job and would probably cost about the same! But on Starquest it brings all the joy of enhanced looks with a five year guarantee, now what cosmetic surgeon would offer that to ladies who go under the knife?

We now have the written quote from the company performing the ‘operation’ so all that remains is to move her – luckily it’s not far and can be achieved in an hour or so. She will spend the winter being dried out – think of it as detox for boats – which is where the hot pads come in. She will then be given a new coat – the more I do this the more I realise why boats are feminine – and come Spring next year she’ll be in tip top condition and be ready to take us south in search of the sun.

Once launched again next year she really will be in fine fettle. I think just about the only bits that have not been replaced will be the basic hull structure and bulkheads. She’ll be as good as new, in fact better than new, and fit for many years afloat. Now, if only I could do the same for myself I’d be a happy chap.

The Solent in Summer

Traditional local boatmen waiting to take crews to the Folly Inn at Cowes.

Autumn is giving way to winter and with it darker, colder nights and fewer opportunities to sail. What better way to cheer us all up then than a reminder of what life is like in the summer on the Solent. Just up river from the popular Royal Yacht Squadron lies the exclusive Folly Inn where intellect meets raw maritime skill across the tables bowing under the sheer weight of alcoholic beverages. The Folly Inn is well known well beyond these shores for its five star food, helpful boatmen (see picture above) and Saturday night cabaret performed by local traditional dancers. Entry to this nautical institution is strictly controlled and it is rumoured that the only way to gain membership is through inheritance; fathers passing on their privileged membership to sons and now daughters. There is talk of strange rituals having to be performed during a complicated, obscure and at times bizarre 'adoption ceremony' which is cloaked in mystery and, some say, dark practices. Former members have let slip mention of breast ropes, bare poles and tackle attached to a preventer. We plan to go under cover to the discover the truth about this secretive establishment and its members. Have you managed to get into the Folly Inn? Why is it called Folly? What secrets lie within? What did you discover? Do let us know. More details in a future bulletin.

I'm now off for a bight before I end up in the drink.