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.

Sunset ...followed by new dawn

They say that nothing is as bad as a doctor telling you the worst but once you've accepted the diagnosis and have recovered from the shock things start to look better. Well, that probably applies to boats as well.

Having been told poor old Starquest had picked up the pox we were pretty devastated. Our plans to buy a new, bigger, cat and put her in the Med had been blown apart. The old girl will have to go into a 'home' for the winter and be given a new bottom. Things could be worse. True, it would have been good if she'd sold and we could move "onwards and upwards" in the words of a well known horticultural broadcaster (sorry Eric) but in boating, life is never that simple. We may be playing with the elements but most of the time the elements play with us.

We have spent a silly amount of money on Starquest, much, much, much more than was sensible and now we will have to spent even more but we will have a boat that's virtually new from stem to stern. I have no doubt she's the best Prout Quest afloat and after her osmosis treatment she'll be as good as new. Actually that's not true, she'll be a heck of a lot better than new. True when we set sail next Easter she will not be as big as we'd planned, she'll sail a knot slower, she'll yield to the waves a tad more than her 40 foot cousins but we'll have a well found craft, equipped with every known navigation aid and more comfortable below than any boat coming off the German production lines.

We have grown to have a deep affection for Starquest and to be honest we felt guilty at putting her on the market. But we needed a bigger boat, we needed a boat which could shrug off the worse Biscay could throw, a boat which could entertain eight people and not feel cramped but it was not to be. Well, not this (or next) year anyway.

The sale of Starquest has almost certainly fallen through. It's our fault. We spent far too much on the refit and although we have a boat that's a shiny example of her type, indeed the best of her type, we cannot afford to write off such an investment. We know how much has been spent on turning this boat from a tired wreck into a brand leader. If we'd known how much it would cost to renovate we'd certainly not bought her in the first place, but having now spent a small fortune we cannot give her away.

Fate dictates we are to spend some more time together.

Our plans, assuming the sale falls through which seems more likely than not, is to have the osmosis treatment done asap, and as early as possible next year head south as quickly as possible. We hope to transit the Canal du Midi and get Starquest into the Med for the summer.

As we said the worst news is the doctor saying the prognosis is not good...after that it all starts to look a lot better.

Pass the Med pilot.

The Pox

Not the boat but skin - but you get the idea.

If anyone should give you the choice of either owning a boat or having medieval thumb screws applied, opt for the thumb screws, it’s less painful.

Having spared no cost in having Starquest renovated we were proud of her and although we were looking forward to moving on to our dream 40 footer it was going to be sad to say goodbye to the old girl. Imagine our horror, therefore, to discover this Essex girl had picked up a social disease and her bottom was covered in ugly blisters.

The potential new owner had arranged for a ‘doctor’ to give her the once-over, a mere formality we imagined knowing that just about every nut and bolt on the boat had either been replaced or serviced. However, when she was lifted it did not need years of medical training or qualifications to see that all was not well below. She may have a stunning top but down below things were not good. The word Osmosis echo’d all the way from Chichester Harbour to here in Oxford. “Osmosis? How can that be? Her bottom was only given a good seeing to last year, coated in a protection that was supposed to last ten years and only a few months ago she was lifted and given a good hosing down under pressure. All looked well then.” Galloping osmosis has transformed a sleek, smooth, rather attractive bottom into a pitted, ugly, festering mass of pungent ooze.

Needless to say no one would blame a potential new owner for running a mile, that’s what I’d do, so the chance of rescuing the sale were zilch.

Osmosis, largely thanks to scare mongers in the yachting press, is the nautical equivalent of the plague. I hardly dare admit to knowing a boat, let alone owning one, which has the disease. It’s all very well the experts saying “It’s only cosmetic no boat has ever sunk because of osmosis” but who wants to be seen with a boat covered in blisters – even if the only creatures who’ll see it are fish, barnacles and plankton out for a jolly. Imagine the talk at the yacht club “He’s got osmosis you know” Oh the social stigma.

Cosmetic it may be but that does not make it any the more appealing. The hunchback of Notre Dame’s deformities were only cosmetic; Gordon Brown would be attractive except for his looks; take away the piercing and tattoos and Sid Vicious was a nice lad. Yes, just cosmetic veneers all of them. Cosmetic they may be but that does not make them any the more desirable.

So, here we are with a boat which has been thickly sheathed in fifty-quid notes only to discover she’s got a diseased bottom covered in blisters.

Bang go our plans to buy a new 40 footer, bang go our plans to put the new boat in the Med for 2010, bang goes our plans for a summer afloat on our new dream yacht.

But hey, it could be worse. The ‘doctor;’ could have found a terminal illness and given the old dear just weeks to live. In fact, he couldn’t fault anything else. So it’s not that bad. True it’ll take more than a pot of Max Factor to sort out the blistered complexion but a thick application of yet more fifty-quid notes should do the trick and the cosmetic surgeon I’ve spoken to assures me she’ll regain her youthful looks and what’s more he’ll guarantee the work for years to come. Blimey, wouldn’t mind some of that myself.

Here, have the keys to the boat and pass the thumb screws.

Women Drivers

FRIDAY 2nd. October

We hadn't even had a chance to mow the lawn before we found ourselves back afloat. Steve and Margie invited us on board Reflections, a Lagoon 380, for the weekend. This was a double treat; not only were we able to gain some experience of sailing on a Lagoon but we also managed to avoid the gardening. Now, given our recent horticultural history you may think we'd be pining for a dibber, a packet of seeds and a good hoeing but oh no. The sooner someone invents the garden that grows to maturity in a fortnight and then stops the happier we'll be.

We have been on Reflections many time, mainly to help Steve and Margie lower the wine lake which threatened to sink the good ship, but this was to be our first sail on her and as we are now actively looking to buy a 40-foot cat it was to be especially interesting.

We left the Gosport mooring mid afternoon on Friday and had a good sail to Cowes. Lightish winds from the West made sailing a bit of a challenge but she pointed well, much better than expected, and we did make progress towards Cowes but not enough if we were to arrive before the restaurants closed. We dropped the sails, stirred the donkeys from their slumber and zipped along at a very perky 7 knots.

Our first Mayday went out when we were about two miles from Cowes. Not us, you understand, we had not come to grief on the trecherous Isle of Wight coast, oh no, rather embasrrassingly, this was a sail training ship which had gone aground off the west of Cowes and the swell was giving her bottom a jolly good smacking. being an elderly lady she did not like it, nor did the kids on board who had just been given a lesson on how not to do it. Lifeboats were launched, vessels nearby went to the rescue and HM Solent Coastguard were hyperventilating i9n anticipation of the headlines, "Children saved from sinking training ship. Why did it happen ask HM Coastguard." Luckily, the rather sheepish skipper reported that he'd managed to wriggle free thanks to a tow from a passing boat and was now heading for Cowes. We met in the entrance with her lifeboat escort.

Cowes Yacht Haven was surprisingly busy but they found room for us to tie up. Not long after mooring a monohull with a crew of uncertain skill decided they wanted to moor behind us. There was barely room but we shuffled up and squeezed them on the end of the pontoon.

Dinner was taken at China China a splendid restaurant with great views over the Solent. An ideal place, we decided, from where to view disasters, collisions and the odd skirmish between yacht and ferry.

SATURDAY 3rd. October

After a great breakfast we left Cowes for a few hours sailing in the Solent. The forecast was for 25 knots out of the North and the forecasters were not wrong. So, we were in for a lively sail and it would be good to see how Reflections handled in a bit of a blow. Well, the words rocket and train are not usually associated with sailing but this Lagoon certainly gave every impression of wanting to emulate these other forms of transport. With 25 knots of apparent wind, a reef in the main and about a third of the Genoa out we shot along at 10 knots. There was probably a bit of tidal help but even so very nippy. What was also impressive was that Steve could singlehand her if needed and also the champagne glasses in the saloon stayed upright. One day all boats will have two hulls!

Our Second Mayday occurred as we were slicing through the waves north of Cowes heading for Southampton. Two racing boats had been in a collision and one of the crew had sustained a nasty crack on her head and was suffering concussion. This did sound more serious and an ambulance was despatched to meet the boat at Hamble Point. We never did hear if she recovered but reaffirmed our thoughts about racing sailors. Sometimes passing along the Solent is like being in a dememnted dogem race with boats coming every which way and many totally ignoring the rules of the road.

Having got dangerously close to the shops at Southampton we turned round and headed back to Cowes when the next emergency call crackled over the marine airwaves. This time a Motorboat with engine failure. Some day all boats will have two engines. They managed to get a tow and another disaster was averted.

We entered the Medina and Steve fancied sailing up to Newport, our next planned stop. There was enough wind in vaguely the right direction and apart from a quick burst of engine power to get us safely past the chain ferry we sailed right up to the moorings at Newport. It's the first time we've been there and what a pleasant place it is. On Saturday night it was very busy, no pontoon space for us so we tied up alongside a (smaller) monohull. Dinner was taken at the Bargeman pub, pleasant hostelry directly opposite the mooring.

SUNDAY 4th. October

The Lagoon 380 is a BIG boat and attracts attention. The woman on the boat alongside and her friend were keen to have a look round and so Steve and Margie started the first of the boat tours. The visitors were impressed.

We debated where to go next, anchor somewhere perhaps for lunch? The tides were not right for going East so we opted for lunch in the Beaulieu River which had the benefit of wind and tide being in the right direction. A brisk sail across the Solent had us overhauling a couple of monohulls and a rather smart looking gaff ketch. We entered the river, dropped the sails and anchored. Splendid place to stop for a bite.

After lunch we headed East for Gosport and carried the tide right into Portsmouth Harbour crossing via the North Swatchway with just inches under the hull... but it was a rising tide.

We tied up back at the marina having had a great weekend and having learnt so much about the Lagoon and life on a big cat. We had also had a Mayday free day.

Some day all boats will have two hulls and two engines.

Gosport - at last

Well, we eventually got home. For two weeks NE'ly winds, gale force at times and fog, kept us locked up in St. Peter Port marina on Guernsey. Before that head winds had prevented us crossing from North Brittany to Guernsey and before that 'the wrong sort of wind' delayed our passage from Granville to St. Malo. No matter where we wanted to go the winds changed to thwart us. Is this what sailing is like? According to others, yes.

Well, as a small crumb of comfort I'm told that the stationary high over the UK responsible for the latest strong NE'lys is pretty unusual and we were unlucky. We had just a one-day window of westerlies to cross from Guernsey before the winds veered to the north again. As we emerged from St. Peter Port harbour at 7am we discovered we were part of a small flotilla. All the boats had been held up in Guernsey and were seizing this opportunity to make a run for home. There was quite a procession up the Little Russel and we were joined by a couple more boats as we all shot through the Alderney Race. We peaked 11.9 knots through the Race as Jo and I were willing Starquest to nudge into 12 knots but no, 11.9 was the peak.

It was a fast but uneventful passage and the Race threw us out into the Channel and we maintained 10 knots for at least a further hour. This help from the tide early on certainly gave us a good start as we headed for Blighty.

The crossing from the UK was quiet with few ships sighted but the return was different. Although our route did not take us through the large ship separation zone we were crossing as ships position themselves to enter the zone and we noticed that ships behave remarkably like buses... there are gaps when none come along then all of a sudden three or four appear at once.

The most 'interesting' time was when four ships were running east almost line abreast and our track took us through the lot! Thank goodness for AIS which made calculating our relative positions easy and certainly took a lot of stress out of that bit of the journey. I just hoped that whoever wrote the software to calculate 'closest point of approach' didn't have a hangover when he wrote that bit of the program. The closest we got to any ship was 0.6 nm - still close enough when you see this vast block of flats passing astern.

I made sure our SeaMe radar responder was on and trusted that someone on the bridge of each ship was plotting our course. We did think one ship nudged a few degrees to give us a bit more room. God bless you sir. We would not fancy doing that in the dark.

The west-bound traffic was also quite heavy but more spaced out. I remember one of Chloe's friends asking about shipping lanes and I explained that they run more or less, east-west and we cross north-south. "Oh" said Alice, clearly taking in the image. "So it's like they are on the motorway and we are the hedgehogs?" Very neatly put, I thought. I remembered that analogy when we were in the middle of all this heavy-weight maritime ironmongery.

Once past the big ships life got easier and I snatched a bit of a rest as Jo took the helm. There was quite a swell throughout the crossing. It's difficult to measure swell because there are no reliable references but we reckon it must have been around six feet with the occasional 'big one' maybe twice that. The seas were not rough, we didn't have 'green ones' breaking over the deck, far from it, but the beam swell from the west did make it pretty uncomfortable. Neither of us were too keen on going below to make a meal. Jo did, however, manage to produce some hot food by running below, putting things in the oven or one the hob, then rushing back on deck until the next flying visit to the galley was needed. I have to say a jacket potato with cheese and ham tastes mighty good mid channel.

Although we had clear skies for most of the crossing cloud had formed over France as we left and as we approached the UK cloud was clearly visible over the Isle of Wight and Dorset. We could not see land but knew it was there under the blanket.

It was about 6pm that we first caught sight of land, well we think it was land. Sometimes cloud on the horizon can look awfully like land. We needed someone in the crow's nest with a telescope and a bandana shouting 'Land Ahoy' but being unable to press gang a Guernsey donkey in St. Peter Port we were lacking a masthead lookout. Eventually the dark shape of St. Catherine's became clear and almost immediately the white cliffs on the sw coast of the Isle of Wight by the Needles appeared. The St. Catherine light seemed very much like a 'welcome home' signal.

Darkness fell, the lights of the Isle of Wight, Bournemouth and Poole became very obvious as we headed for the Needles Fairway Buoy. We anticipated that the Needles Channel would be a bit lumpy in the swell and as the tide would be rushing through about the time of our arrival I opted to enter the Solent via the Needles North Channel. It's a bit tricky and I've never done it at night before. This was to be a death or glory moment.

We passed the Fairway Buoy, continued for about a mile, turned east and all of a suddent the sea became a lot calmer. The difference between having the wind and swell on the beam and then having both astern was dramatic. The tide on the Solent approach was going to be strong so we thought we'd take advantage of this quiet spot to drop the gib. I released the sheet and pulled on the furling line and it was stuck. I uttered a prayer to Neptune, who totally ignore me.

With safety harness on and full deck lights (we must have looked like Blackpool illuminations) I went up forward to sort out the furling gear. We have a rule that no one goes forward at sea and especially so at night but there was no option. The sail was stuck and we had to free it before we got to Yarmouth and this was going to be our calmest bit of sea.

I made my way carefully forward and I have to say the magic of being up front cruising along at six knots into an inky black sea was quite awe inspiring. When I got to the furling drum I could see what had happened. The gib had unfurled very quickly and the line was caught around the drum. It took half a minute to free and then I carefully moved back to the safety of the cockpit. The only 'drama' of the trip and all resolved in less than a minute. Maybe Nepture was listening afterall.

We arrived off Milford on Sea where a sharp right turn is needed as you sail very close to the shore along the western edge of Hurst Castle to the western entrance of the Solent. We had several tide 'windows' to hit on our trip. Firstly there was the Little Russel out of Guernsey, then the Alderney Race and finally the entrance to the Solent. With luck we'd reach all at the right time but as we were now running ahead of schedule (winds and tides had been kind) I wondered if we might not get any benefit from the Solent tide. I neeed not have worried. We sped along the North Channel at 10 knots and popped out into the Solent approach by Hurst Castle and carried the tide into the Solent and to Yarmouth.

Yarmouth was a blaze of lights and we noticed a Chinese Palace leave the harbour. Now, it's some months since we've been to Yarmouth and I don't remember any floating takeaways operating there so guessed this must be the Yarmouth-Lymington ferry. It was. We then noticed another Chinese Palace leaving Lymington and heading for Yarmouth. Would we beat it, we wondered? It looked as if we would although it was tempting to let it go in first and follow her in. A quick check on the AIS and we were well ahead so we opted to go in and let her follow us. Jo picked up the entrance lights before me and she guided us in. Must be all those carrots she's been eating.

We entered the harbour just after nine o'clock, fourteen hours and 95 miles since we left St. Peter Port, a really fast crossing thanks to some helpful tides and winds. The harbour was very busy although when I phoned the day before I got the impression it was quiet and we'd not have any problem finding a mooring. We tied up alongside a very solid Aquastar which, appropriately, was built in Guernsey. Lovely old boat, solid as a battleship and the sort of motorboat yachtsmen buy when hoisting sails becomes too onerous.

We were in Yarmouth in time to get to the pub which was quite an achievement as we were estimating a midnight arrival. However, we both felt pretty tired and gave the Yarmouth pubs a miss...will Gabby and Eddie ever forgive us?

Next morning we were rudely awoken at 6am when a boat, attempting to leave the harbour, underestimated the tide and almost collided with us. The 'thump' we heard was someone stepping on our deck to fend off the runaway yacht. She was eventually winched back onto the pontoon and three very sheepish sailors went below to work out how to leave without capsizing the rest of the boats on the mooring.

Having been disturbed at 6am we were half awake anyway at seven and decided to take advantage of the early rise and head down the Solent for Gosport. We had the tide behind us, there was nil wind, so we motored and three hours later we tied up at Gosport Marina just as it started to rain. Welcome home Starquest.

It's been fun, it's been an adventure. We have learnt an enormous amount about what we need of a boat if we are to live on board for six months of the year and although the weather has been dreadful we still enjoyed it.

We have met some really nice and interesting people, seen some amazing sights, cruised some challenging waters, had unbelievable highs when things went well and some miserable lows when the weather curtailed our plans.

We can't wait to go sailing next year. Roll on 2010.