2019 beckons

So this is our Big Plan for 2019.

Ireland.

Ireland clockwise (by sea).

We will set off in early May and get back (with a bit of luck)  at the end of July

We hope to start from Dartmouth thence to Plymouth to Newlyn and then to Ireland.  From then on it's simply a matter of keeping the Emerald Isle on our right (starboard) and not hitting anything till we get back to Blighty.

As usual we welcome (seaworthy) guests for parts of the trip.
Possible crew change places include:
Dartmouth, Plymouth, Newlyn, Cork, Tralee, Galway,Westport, Sligo, Derry, Coleraine, Belfast and Dublin.

Jean and I plan to do three 3 week voyages with two fortnight-long breaks in between so that we can get back to feed Putin (the doglike creature at home) and cut the grass.

More news to follow

Gratuitously irrelevant Zebras

And then we went home

25 August

To Brighton

No dramas.
Martin went home by train, and we popped back to Essex to cut the grass and feed Putin (who was fine). 
Travel on land using legs, trains, buses and the occasional taxi is remarkably easy.

28 August

To the Solent.

Leaving Brighton (by boat) does involve  .. well  .. leaving the marina by the marina entrance. 
The entrance can get shallow, especially after storms and does, we understand, require regular dredging.  As we wanted to leave at low water springs, I checked with the man in the marina office that it would be deep enough for us.

Whilst examining the results of a recent survey, he suggested that "it should be OK, especially if you go a little wide here, and more in the middle here, and perhaps go out on  a rising tide, but it  might be better to give it another 2 hours".
So much for seeking reassurance. 

As I was now in extreme safety mode (we no longer had Martin aboard and I really didn't want to have to call Solent Coastguard again that week), we opted to leave an hour early, albeit on a falling tide.

It was fine.

There was no wind.  We motored swiftly to the Solent,  refuelled in Yarmouth, and then, having firmly agreed that we couldn't possibly get beyond Studland Bay that night, eventually arrived in Portland Harbour before dark. 78 miles, no problem.

30 August 2018

Portland to Dartmouth.

No problems  .. and we were home!

Being Rescued and all that

23 August 2018

To Eastbourne

The Hottest British Summer In Living Memory was coming to an end.
In fact, despite the predictions in a well-known scientific and medical journal (The Daily Express), the British Summer was already over.

This, of course, meant that we had to check the weather before venturing out onto the High Seas.

There appeared to be something of a "Weather Window" that morning, in that the Northerly wind would not turn Westerly till after noon. As we wanted to get from Dover to Eastbourne that day, a Northerly wind would mean we could sail (i.e. use the Big White Flappy Things) whereas a Westerly wind would mean that we would have to use the engine. (Tacking against he wind is not a concept or practice that we normally embrace because it is rather slow and tends to be hard work).

Anyway, we had a weather window, if we could leave Dover early enough, even if the tidal might not be quite ideal.

The gate from Granville Dock (Dover) opened for us at 0700 and we exited the harbour without causing any special inconvenience or damage to a very large and recently docked cruise liner or to Dover Port Control generally.
I  had just finished complimenting myself on our increasingly fluent use of the VHF and how easy the day had been so far when the plotter went out. The plotter then bleeped several times, told me it didn't know where it was, "position fix lost", rebooted several times, bleeped once more and then died. There was no smoke, but the plotter was definitely dead.

Never mind. We had Martin  and Martin had an Ipad.

The "weather window" was, of course, a fiction.  The Northerly was a Westerly and the F3 soon became an F5, occasionally F6.  We would have to motor to Eastbourne (or sail back to Dover and wait for a new "weather window").  I turned up the engine and bashed our way Westwards.

It got a little rough.  Never mind, we had Martin, a new engine and plenty of fuel.
I took a couple of Stugeron   "just in case"
At one stage we pitched so much coming off a wave that the propellor came our of the water with a roar and a splash.

We plodded on.

About six miles out from Eastbourne I rememeber thinking "so we are going to make it alright after all". 

At this precise moment the engine stopped.

"Obviously something round the prop" I said, trying to sound calm, authoriative, wise and generally in control (all at the same time).

I started the engine, engaged reverse and sighed with relief as it ran sweetly.

Off we chugged.   Ten seconds later it stopped again.

"Obviously dirt in the fuel filter"  I announced. "All that bouncing around must have stirred up some sludge in the bottom of the tank".  "I'll change the primary filter".

Having completely lost my temper with the aft cabin's mattress (which was determined to stop me from accessing the fuel filter), I did eventually manage to change the bl**dy thing.

Jean and I inspected the old "blocked" filter and some fuel that I'd drained into an ice cream tub.
Pristine.

The engine wouldn't run and the fuel and its filter were fine.

"We will have to sail".   I spoke these words knowing that on a sailing boat such as ours, this was very much the last resort.

Whilst we sailed, I convened a conference.  We made a plan.  Tack the boat under sail against the wind and tide towards Eastbourne Marina, when nearly there, ask for a workboat to help us into the lock, and "Bob's your uncle".

I called Eastbourne Marina on the VHF.  No reply.
I phoned Eastbourne Harbour. I think I got through briefly to someone in a pub, who managed to bang the phone down just before we were cut off.
I fiddled with the VHF.

Reader(s) will not remember anything much about the VHF ATIS settings required for Dutch Inland Waterways, however, I am able to recall that although I failed to program this properly, I did do enough for the ATIS setting to have disabled High Power transmissions  on various channels on the VHF (which is something that it's supposed to do and might perhaps be a good thing when navigating canals in Holland).

Why does stuff always go wrong at the worst time?
Have you ever tried re-programme a VHF, from the instruction book, on a rocking boat, with steamed up spectacles, while shining a flickering torch at an impossibly small screen on  the front of a VHF set?
Eventually, I had it working on full power Channel 74.

I called Eastbourne Marina.
Would they be able to assist our entry by providing a workboat?
How long would we take to get there?
A couple of hours.
Sorry, we'll have gone home by then.

I called Solent Coastguard on Channel 16 and explained the situation.
I explained that I wasn't confident of sailing into Eastbourne without help, Brighton Marina has an infamously difficult entrance, and Dover was an awful long way away.

Solent Coastguard were clear, calm, utterly professional and generally wonderful and quickly recruited another yacht to help us.  Soon a very shiny new-looking Beneteau 38 (or so) was motoring along behind us as we slowly approached Eastbourne Harbour.

This, I thought, was all very fine and dandy but  how were we going to make use of this fine yacht and her kind and helpful skipper?  Would our harbour entry end in a pile of damaged gel coat and twisted steel?

"Albatross, Solent Coastguard, over .."
"Albatross, Solent Coastguard.   Eastbourne Lifeboat are training this afternoon and would be pleased to assist you"
"Solent Coastguard, Albatross.  YES PLEASE!"

Twenty minutes later Three Million Pounds worth of RNLI's Tamar Class all-weather Lifeboat,  "Diamond Jubilee" roared out to meet us.  With great agility they put a member of crew aboard, a  rope was attached and we were taken in tow towards the harbour.  Having sorted out the towing bridle, the crewman bled our engine's the injector pipes and we entered Eastbourne Harbour Lock under our own "steam".

Our track as recorded on Martin's Ipad

We lived happily ever after.

God Bless The RNLI.

 RNLI's Tamar Class all-weather Lifeboat,  "Diamond Jubilee" 

After Wemeldinge

Regular reader(s) will remember that The Good Ship Albatross was, in my last riveting report, sailing in Dutch Inland Waters near a small town called Wemeldinge.

18 August 2018

Despite the absence of any sailors with Inland Waterways Endorsements to their International Certificates of Incompetence our gallant trio managed to navigate through the ship canal from Wemeldinge to Hansweert  that is, the Kanaal door Zuid-Beveland, without undue difficulty.

The lock at Hansweert has a customs office (for ships heading to Belgium, we think) but the customs showed no interest in us, despite the absence of a Schengen form (completed in triplicate).  As usual everything was pleasant, dutch and easy.

After the lock at Hansweert we entered  the Westerschelde again.  You will remember of course that the Westerschelde is the big estuary that runs roughly from Antwerp in Belgium .. (where British Sailors Sometimes Fear To Tread) to Breskens (where we have already been)
.
Easy therefore, exit canal, turn right, follow wide estuary to Breskens.  WRONG!

Marine and Coastal Navigation is normally undertaken with the aid of charts.  
We tend to use electronic charts on Albatross (we also have paper ones but these are mainly used as cabin decoration and stored "just in case").  Anyway, we duly set off down the Westerschelde, dodging the marine traffic and mud banks.  

After about half an hour Martin appeared from his bunk "Peter, I think we should go a little left". 
I knew where I was, so I nodded and continued on my cunning course from one channel to another.  

"Peter, it might be better to go slightly left".
 I looked at my plotter, we should be fine, I thought.   

"Peter, let's go a little left". 
I looked at the depth  ... 1.5 metres under the keel ,, getting shallower, but the plotter said we should be fine.  Martin knows about sailing.
Martin has an iPad with proper up-to-date charts on it.  
I turned left. 
Martin's plotter showed that we missed hitting the mud by only a few metres (and on a falling tide). 
My charts showed we would have been fine.

The charts on my networked electronic  high tech Raymarine Multifunction Display are only 14 years old.

We survived.  I will buy some new charts next year. For now we had Martin and Martin had his iPad.

Soon we arrived back in Breskens.  We had to use lots of long ropes to get into our berth.

Lessons for the day:
1.  14 year old cartography is not ideal (especially when navigating the shifting mud of a major  European estuary).
2.  All visitors berths in the Netherlands are too small.
3.  Martin tends to be right.

We like Breskens,

19 August 2018

We set off south towards the new marina at Cadzand-Bad.  
 For some reason, I couldn't find it  on my plotter but  Jean and Martin found it on their iPads.

Cadzand- Bad is in The Netherlands (just) but is run by The Royal Yacht Club of Belgian. 
It is an excellent modern marina with only one catch. 
To use the loos you need an electronic card at £8.50 each. 
"But you can use it at any Royal Yacht Club of Belgian marina" explained the dutch receptionist. "Even Jachthaven Wolphaatsdijk".  
 Anyway we had to buy the card and I had what was probably the most expensive pee of my life.

We still have the card. So Dear Reader(s), if you want to use the loo at Jachthaven Cadzand-Bad or Jachthaven Wolphaatsdijk, just let me know and I'll send you the card.

This brings me to a final thought about the Dutch.   Do any Dutch people have dyslexia?  If so, how many live in Wolphaatsdijk?  And how do they cope?  

20 August

To Dunkerque (missing out Belgium on the way, for obvious reasons).  We motored all the way. I used Martin's ipad for navigation.

21 August

Across the Dover Straits Traffic Separation Scheme  to   ....  Dover.   
We motored about half the way until, as we were about to be overtaken by a smaller yacht that appeared to be using the wind as its sole means of propulsion, we realised that we could also try using "the big white flappy things".  So we did. It was good. We sped to Dover, powered only by the wind.

The Port of Dover

22 August

Day off in Dover.

Key points:
1.  We had fish and chips with our wine
2.  We were back in Blighty
3.  Jean and I visited The Castle  and had ice creams.
4.  We didn't go sailing.

Next time .. being rescued and all that.

Towards Holland

We like Dover, its safe harbour, pleasant and efficient marina and of course, its britishness. But it was time to go to France again.

7 August 2018

To Dunkerque
.
To leave Dover we had to:
1. Call Dover Marina on VHF 80 and ask them to open the gate and the road bridge to let out out
2. Call Port Control on VHF 74 to ask them if we might enter "The Wick Channel" (which has nasty blind corner and traffic lights (because big tugs and other boaty stuff may be coming in the opposite direction)
3. Call VHF 74 a second time and ask permission to leave "by the Eastern Entrance" (this time)
4. Avoid bumping into things and looking silly.

All this involves using the VHF, which means that everything you say will be heard by the hundreds of local (and competent) seafarers who are also listening in on VHF 74.
Words like "Port Control" "Albatross"  "roger" "standby"  "over"  "say again" and "out" have to be said calmly and with authority but without sounding like a remake of Airport II.   Non-seafaring folk may not be aware that the use of Whirlybirdisms like "Over and Out" is worse than ... well, a very bad thing out of a very very bad factory.

We motored all the way to Dunkerque. The  Dover Straights Traffic Separation System was fine and the journey was easy.  Dunkerque has two marinas, the "friendly" recommended one and the other one. The former is always full  but the later is very friendly and entirely acceptable.

Visitors' Pontoon in Dunkerque (plus tip of Right Index Finger)

The weather wasn't ideal for sailing for several days to I spent my time planning the next leg of our adventure.

I discovered the following:
1.  Belgium is next door to France and lies between France and the Netherlands
2.  English sailors generally avoid Belgium (for obvious reasons .. see below)
3.  Holland (our target destination) is part of The Netherlands
4. Everyone in The Netherlands speaks fluent English except for a laundrette assistant somewhere a long way north.
5. To navigate the Dutch inland waters we would need:
a.  An International Certificate of Competence  with an inland waterway endorsement
b. A printed copy of the Dutch Inland Waterways Regulations (in Dutch) aboard at all times
c. Our VHF radio programmed for A.T.I.S. (whatever that might be)
d.  A cool head and a strong heart
e.  Our boat's VAT certificate
f.  A basic idea of how to "berth the boat in a box mooring"

The cruising guide which we had purchased advised us that the Dutch would enforce their regulations strictly and that the end of the world was nigh.

So looking at 5. a. to f. (above), I worked out that we failed all all counts (although on item d., I thought my heart, at least, was probably OK).

Although  our cruising guide may or may not have been written by an obsessional depressive with a hangover, it was not bringing me happiness or reassurance.  The local Dutch (and Belgian) yotties however explained (in English) that none of the above mattered at all  ... except perhaps that I really should have got my inland waterway endorsement.

Anyway, to The Netherlands without stopping in Belgium.

We arrived in Breskens (in the Netherlands).
Our guide stressed the importance of completing a "Schengen" form in triplicate. We didn't.
All the local boaters  reassured us that all the above was bo!!ocks and that we should try not to worry.

12 August 2018

To Middelburg

Getting to Middelburg, our first proper inland "up a canal" place involved
1. Crossing the Westerschelde (without impeding the ferries)
2. Entering the Sea lock at Vlissingen (aka as "Flushing" to us Brits)
3. Waiting for various bridges to open
4. Finding a berth in The Historic City of Middelburg
5. Getting the boat into a "Box Mooring".

Everything went fine apart from item 5.

The Box Mooring consisted of 2 posts (which I later measured to be) precisely 4 metres apart. Albatross is 3.6 metres wide and when festooned with fenders is approximately 4 metres wide.
I went for it backwards, obliquely and at speed.  We hit one of the posts and bumped on into the berth. Various nice Dutch people all of whom were nice (obviously) and spoke English fluently  (obviously) came to our aid and helped us tie up.  One man kindly suggested that we should have taken our fenders off before attempting this delicate manoeuvre.

Box moorings in Middelburg

More moorings in Middelburg

We liked Middelburg, its canals and watery boat parking arrangements, the harbour mistress, the architecture and everything about the place.  We met and interesting man from Essex in a 50 foot power boat who had just driven over from Essex (obviously) in bad weather.  His wife and his dog had both vomited much of the way. The dog was a "German Shepherd" or some such thing. Almost as frightening as our Putin (but probably in better mental health).  Our faithful Putin was of course still still at home and hopefully guarding it resolutely.

Jean exploring Middelburg

Having proved that could cope with "Dutch Inland Waterways" we visited the local "Jumbo" supermarket. This was much worse.  I managed to get my trolley (without fenders) jammed between a pillar and the oriental pasta.  Everyone was nice and spoke English.

Jean in Middelburg city centre

14 August

To Verre and Osterwatering.

It was tricky getting out of our  Box Mooring as 3 giant motor cruisers had rafted together opposite our cosy berth leaving a gap of about 12 metres within which we would need to turn. But we made it. The other boaters were very nice (and spoke English). We had an easy trip down the canal but on arrival in Verre the marina looked full (really full, fuller than.. well you know) so we went instead to Oosterwatering.  On arrival, this marina also looked full but the very nice Berthing Mistress advised us to raft onto the "Blue Motorboat on the Hammerhead".   There were 2 Blue Motorboats, one on each hammerhead. One contained an unhelpful Englishman but the other was empty and Dutch and altogether a better place to berth. So we did.

Martin joined us in Oosterwatering. Martin knows about sailing, doesn't feel the cold and never gets seasick. Remarkably, Martin doesn't speak Dutch very well, but this didn't matter.

A tunnel in a dyke near Veere near Oosterwatering somewhere in The Netherlands

Locking out of a canal

15 August

We decided to explore some of The Inland Waters of The Netherlands and therefore set off for  Colijnplaat.  Colijnplaat is interesting, no only for the gratuitous over use of the letter "j" in its spelling (not to mention the double "a" later in the word,  but also because it is very nice, friendly, Dutch and because we had to sail under a motorway bridge (with a gate under it it) to get there.

16 August

Next to Sint Annaland Marina in Zeeland.
A nice marina in a slightly boring town with a nice beach. We had a swim. Martin took us out to traditional dutch meal. We had chips with dutch sauce.

17 August

We sailed to Wemeldinge.
Wemeldinge has a marina, half of which is only accessible via a narrow channel with a lifting footbridge over it. The berth we were allocated would be, I decided, impossible to berth in without divine intervention. Even with Martin on board, we had no chance of making the sharp and complex turns required to get into the berth without wrecking several (nice) dutch boats in the process.
Under Martin's guidance we therefore decided to "rope the boat in".

Martin knows about boating (and even his Dutch was improving) and so he explained how we should berth somewhere easy and then pull the boat (with a very long rope) into the berth to which we had been assigned.  Probably the best thing about the next couple of hours (from an international relations perspective) was the entertainment that we provided for so many very nice Dutch onlookers.
Martin's rope throwing did improve with practice. It is good to know that no one is perfect.

Wemeldinge is situated next to the entrance to the next canal that we would have to tackle, so we went for a very pleasant walk to explore the neighbourhood and to suss out the canal generally.

Next time  .. somewhere else...

Eastwards

Albatross, Dear Reader(s), is essentially a right-handed-boat.

When we go to sea from Blighty we normally turn right and therefore head West.

Time to see if she will go East.

During The Great British Heatwave of 2018 the wind generally came from the North East. This wasn't ideal for our expedition but we would cope.  We had an engine.

16 July 2018
Taxi from our secret hideout to Kingswear. Yacht taxi to our Albatross. A pleasant night on the mooring.

17 July
We re-fuelled and set sail for Brixham.  As it was a flat calm hot day we motored.
Dinner aboard  entertaining D and S.

18 July
To Braye.   We had a pleasant quiet night in Braye Harbour and the boat didn't even rock as much as is normal for Braye.  We enjoyed watching other yotties fight over the last available moorings and felt smug that we had arrived earlier than them.

19 July
To Cherbourg.

20 July
To Grandcamp Maisie
An odd name for a french village. Something to do with The Normandy Landings, I believe.
We had a nice walk around the village, along the beach and looked at the church.  It was pleasantly warm. (The village, that is)

Albatross berthed in Grandcamp Maisie

22 July
Eastwards to Le Havre.
The entrance to the Marina was shallow.  The depth read 0.00 metres under the keel in the marina entrance. We survived..
I read something that said that Le Havre is the third biggest port in Europe.  I doubt it, but there were some huge ships passing the marina  and a massive ship parking area in the bay.
We swam on the beach.  It was hot.  (The beach, that is)

Big ships in Le Havre

Old and new ships outside Le Havre

23 July
Eastwards to Fecamp.
A nice marina but with a rather glum girl at the desk with a sign glued down on front of her telling customers to be courteous, or else. The showers were a little smelly. But it was hot. (The day, that is).
We had a nice swim on the beach, before the fog came in.

24 July
We motored to Dieppe.
Dieppe used to have the reputation of being a rather industrial (perhaps even smelly) extension to Newhaven and simply somewhere where the British could park a ferry whilst recovering from a trip across "La Manche".   Far from it. This might be a better description of Newhaven,
Dieppe is a little gem.  We like Dieppe.

25 July
To Boulogne.
We berthed in "Marina Henry IV", which I thought entirely appropriate.  Boulogne is a fine town with a fine church.  I understand that Spaghetti Bolognais was invented in Boulogne as was the art of bread making (Hence "boulangerie").  Julius Caesar and William of Normandy both used Boulogne as a base from which to invade Blighy (but not at the same time)

Julius Caesar

William

26 July
To Dover.
We crossed the Dover Traffic Separation Zone with aplomb and spoke confidently on the VHF with Dover Port Control, using words like "Roger, Over, Standby, Starboard and So-you-want-me-to-go-through-the-entrance-when-the-lights-are-red?"
We had intended to berth in Granville Dock. (Presumably named after 1st Earl Granville  (12 October 1773 – 8 January 1846), known as Lord Granville Leveson-Gowerfrom 1786 to 1815, as Viscount Granville from 1815 to 1833, and as Earl Granville from 1833 onwards, who was a British Whig statesman and diplomat. 
However because of building works in the harbour (and the price) we eventually berthed in Wellington Marina, which I felt to be rather more appropriate in these troubled times.
We like Dover, the harbour and its beach.  We had a swim. It was hot  (everything was hot). We also had ice creams.

27 July
Back to Essex by train.  It was the hottest day of the year (so far).
We had thunderstorms and revelled in the petrichor.
It was indeed hot  (Putin, that is)

Next time. More about petrichor and "East to Holland".

Leaks and why they matter

Sailing is not entirely a bed of roses.

Take leaks for example.

When we bought our Albatross nine happy years ago, she did have the odd leak (water through the deck, and from the engine, and diesel  from the fuel tank, for example).  As time went by, leaks came and went.

Some leaks can be quite exciting.
In April 2012 we had an exciting leak.

Because the main sewage tap from our holding tank was rather stiff and difficult to open and close, I decided to give it a "jolly good waggle". (We were berthed in Stromness in Orkney at the time).  While giving it its waggle, something unintended came loose and well-liquefied poo flooded out of the tap.  Thinking quickly and using the skills and authority that I had acquired over more than 30 years of sailing and marriage, I instructed my wife and deputy skipper to insert her right index finger firmly into the leaking tap, whilst I assessed the situation.

Basically, we had a leak of stored sewage from a brass fitting below sea level.  If the deputy skipper were to remove her finger, the boat would first fill with sewage and then with seawater from Stromness harbour.  Then we would sink.

What should we do?   
     Call a plumber?
     Call the RNLI?
     Moor the boat against the dock wall, wait for the tide to go out, remove the deputy skippers finger and then call a plumber?

A difficult seacock

In the event, I found the bolt that had fallen out of the tap. My beloved extracted her finger, I screwed the bolt back in and we both washed our hands.  We had survived.



But back to leaks.  Engine water leaks. We had one that took 9 years to fix and this is the story.

Soon after buying the boat, I noticed a little puddle of water under and behind the engine.  It only appeared after a voyage and was sometimes probably seawater  but also sometimes green in colour (and therefore possibly engine coolant). The coolant filler cap was rusty.

A slightly corroded filler cap

Diagnosis 1:          Leaking coolant filler cap.     
Treatment:            New filler cap
Result                    Still leaking



The engine's heat exchanger has a drain valve. This was wet.

A drain valve

Diagnosis 2:          Leaking drain valve
Treatment:             Properly tightened
Result                    No better



One happy spring morning, whilst motoring across the Pentland Firth en route for Orkney, I decided to have a quick look at my engine. To my horror water was pouring out of the exhaust mixing elbow, which was cracked. We survived the journey and a nice young man in a shed in Stromness not only welded it up beautifully while we waited but also refused any payment for his work.  Obviously, I thought, this had been the cause of the leak from the start; it had just been too slight at first to spot.

A (perfect) exhaust elbow

Diagnosis 3:          Cracked exhaust mixing elbow
Treatment:             Repaired
Result:                   No better

Unfortunately, despite finding and fixing a real leak, the engine was still wet.



The stern gland (that is supposed to stop water coming up around the prop shaft and into the boat) was always a bit wet after motoring, and a puddle of water collected under it.

A stern gland

Diagnosis 4:           Leaking stern gland
Treatment:              New rubber gland fitted
Result:                    No better



The engine always seemed to wobble a lot when it stopped and started and I concluded that  that was when and why the stern gland was leaking. So after a lot more research and a trip to The Boat Show, I purchased and installed a very nice "PSS Shaft Seal".  The salesman assured me that this wouldn't leak even when the engine was wobbling.

Diagnosis 5:           Leaking stern gland
Treatment:             Different type of stern gland fitted
Result:                   You guessed it.

A very nice new stern gland (with breather tube)

Anyway, we now had the best of stern glands, which even had a specially long and meticulously fitted breather tube to make sure it vented properly.


Quite often the puddle under the engine was green (like the coolant).  When it came to a changing the coolant that winter, I refilled with the recommended brand which is pink.  Sure enough, the puddle under the engine was now pink.  The leaking water was definitely coolant and now I could see that it was coming out from under the filler cap.  Obviously the cheap replacement filler cap that I'd bought off ebay was leaking.    I bought a pucker one from Yanmar.

Diagnosis 6:          Defective filler cap
Treatment:             Expensive new one
Result:                   Need I really tell you.

A brand new filler cap

With a bright light, when the engine was nice and hot, I eventually found tiny leak from the joint between the filler neck and the cooler tank. "Hurray", I'd found it.    On ebay, I found a packet of "AbroSteel".  This magic putty, would stick to almost anything, set like steel and block the leak.  It did work for about 3 hours, but halfway between Dartmouth and Alderney there was once more a pink puddle under the engine.

A botched up filler neck

Diagnosis 7:          Filler neck leak
Treatment:             Special  putty pending proper fix that winter
Result:                   Guess.

Although this explained the "pink" water leak, seawater was also getting in somewhere.  I scoured the internet again.  The cooling system has an "anti-syphon loop". This  is supposed to stop  seawater from syphoning into the exhaust.  Its mechanism involves a tiny spring-operated valve that lets air in to interrupt any water column that might turn into a syphon.    The spring is prone to blockage with salt. The valve would then drip water.   I cleaned the salt-caked spring and reassembled everything but added a special long drainage tube, so that if the spring failed again and water would go into the sea.

Diagnosis 8:            Anti-syphon valve blocked and leaking
Treatment:              Cleaned and modified
Result:                    Engine still wet after running

Anti-syphon loop

Eight seasons had passed. My engine had been mysteriously wet for much of this time. So now it was also very rusty.  Dripping seawater had ruined the engine mounts, the alternator was corroding, some of the wiring was beginning to fail.  I consulted a Proper Engineer.   We needed to have the engine taken out of the boat just to replace the its mounts. The heat exchanger needed to be repaired or replaced, the gearbox had cause trouble,  the whole engine needed cleaning and painting. And of course, something was leaking.

Rusty

How did we feel about a new engine? 
We did the sums and our very nice engineer installed a brand new shiny clean dry engine.


Diagnosis 9:             Engine condition terminal
Treatment:               A new engine and gearbox.

The new season was with us.  The boat was launched. The engine started instantly We left the quayside and  headed for our mooring.  We secured the boat and stopped the engine.

THERE WAS A PUDDLE OF WATER UNDER OUR NEW ENGINE.

Well obviously there must be a minor leak from one of the old cooling pipes that had been re-used with the new engine. We'd find out exactly which pipe it was on our cruise to Brittany.

Usually when we stopped in a berth each evening there was a small puddle of fresh seawater under the engine.  But not always.  I decided that it had to be coming from one of the re-inforced polythene seawater  cooling pipes and spent much of each day examining them.

It is very important when doing this not to insert your finger in the engine's electric cooling fan when the engine is running.  I did.

The first thing I noticed was that the cooling fan was making a funny noise, then that there was blood under then engine and finally that my left little finger wasn't entirely  happy.  I mended my finger with sticking plaster. The fan was missing one of its six blades and making a din because it was now unbalanced. I broke off the blade opposite the missing one and it now runs happily again.

Modified fan

Back to the leak.  The pipework under the raw water strainer was wet. This was obviously where the leak was coming from. One of the pipes was quite worn and had probably been leaking. I unbolted and re-positioned the water strainer so that I could shorten and tidy up the pipework.   And next day there wasn't a puddle under the engine!

Raw water strainer

But a day later the puddle returned.

"OK, I will replace all the polythene pipes."  I muttered defiantly.

I went into a chandlery across the river in Benodet and bought some new tubing and several shiny new hose clamps.     On returning to the boat, I found that the pipe I'd bought was the wrong size.  Returning by ferry to the chandlery, I found that it had just shut for the weekend. 

I spent the evening in a downward cycle, checking pipes, worrying and drinking wine.

Next day, I realised that it was time that my nice new shiny (but wet engine) had its first oil change.

 I dried everything up with surgical precision.  Prepared my tools and a couple of nappies to catch any oils drips and then I ran the engine (in gear) in reverse for ten minutes (with the boat firmly warped on to the pontoon). I wanted the engine and its oil warm for the oil change.

I stopped the engine and opened the engine hatch.  The engine was awash with at least 10 litres of fresh seawater underneath it.  Water had been pouring from the stern gland breather tube when the engine was in reverse. 

The reverse spinning propeller had been forcing a jet of water under the boat, up the stern tube, out through its breather pipe and all over the engine.

I've fixed this now with a £5 non-return valve from Screwfix and a roll of sticky tape.

Alors?!

Bloggers return

Reader(s) will probably not recall that having arrived in Benodet in early June, the blog has gone quiet. So quiet that one reader (at least) has become anxious as to why?  

What, in the meantime has happened?

Well, briefly ...

We had 3 nights in Benodet.
Saw and baby sat for L & J.
We had a walk up the river.

7 June 2018
Arrived in Concarneau. 
We had a very nice walk around this very pleasant fortified 15th Century Shopping Precinct.

8 June
To Port Tudy on the Isle de Groix. Arrived 1415 hrs (on a Friday, out of season). It was totally full up. Never mind, to Port Louis.
Port Louis is a lovely quiet marina apart from the visiting classic boat rally which was taking up all the visitors' berths.  Very nice boatman took us to  Berth E39, (only £16 per night).
Luckily it was Neaps.

Angela and Martin* arrived which was nice.

11 June
To Haliguen
Back in Blighty there was a heatwave.  We motored all the way to Haliguen. Dull, cool and misty.
Haliguen should IMO be avoided by sane (and insane) yachtsmen (and women), at least until 2050.
The visitors' berthing area has been taken over by boats that have been removed from the part of  the marina that is now occupied by a very big, splendid and powerful pile driver.  Albatross does not have piles so she didn't need this noisy machine.

Pile driver

 Anyway, the helpful boatman sent us to a convenient berth (just near the pile driver)  "Will it be deep enough?" I asked in fluent English.  "I expect so" he replied with a shrug.
We berthed. I measured the depth.  We would be properly aground next morning.

12 June
Waking to sound of piles being driven, we left early whilst we were still afloat.

To Vannes
Vannes is an ancient and very interesting historic city at the top of the Morbihan.

The Morbihan is an ancient and very interesting inland sea in Southern Brittany.

Morbihan disease is an interesting dermatolgical condition characterised by erythaema and solid, non-pitting oedema of the face and is entirely irrelevant to this story (although I think I saw a case of it in Sainsbury's today whilst queuing for the strawberries).

Anyway, to Vannes.

Going to Vannes involves getting the tides and currents right when entering the Morbihan and then getting the tides and depth right  when going up the narrow dredged channel and through the lock to Vannes itself.

We ran aground in the narrow dredged channel, so having extracted ourselves we went back to the Morbihan to wait for the tide. Unfortunately we then ran aground again the Morbihan.

Where we went aground

Getting unstuck after running aground involves a deep knowledge of seamanship, marine physics and engineering, tidal heights and of course, human psychology.  The last of these skills is obviously by far the most important.

So, after a great deal of planning and discussion went as follows  ...
Martin*   "Why dont we ....."
Skipper    "That won't work ...."
Martin *  "Or .."
Skipper    "That won't work ..." and so on,
we eventually  pumped up the dinghy, filled it with anchor chain and a  Fortress Aluminium Folding Anchor (once described by a friend of mine as "entirely useless") and myself and set off towards deep water.  Having arrived in deep water, I chucked the anchor (having first attached it to the chain) into the deep water and then made my way back to the boat.  We then pulled on the anchor chain and lo-and-behold after about 5 minutes pulling we had the anchor back in the Albatross and Albatross still firmly on  and in the mud.  (Thus proving my friend to have been right).  By this time the tide had come in a bit.  Martin* then suggested "What if we try the engine again?"  To which I replied "That won't work"  but it did work and we eventually extracted ourselves from the mud and motored happily into Vannes
.

Vannes

We like Vannes, the ancient city and cathedral, the marina and river, the french nation and the EU generally.

Jean in Vannes

14 June 2018
To an anchorage off the Isle of Howat.  This is a "no-anchoring" anchorage that we have visited before.  We had a hot afternoon and restful if slightly wobbly night (at anchor). There were only about 50 other boats anchored there.

15 June
To  Lorient for  fuel.
Lorient Marina is huge but quite good.

16 June
To Benodet but St Marine Marina this time.
Martin* and Angela left for Roscoff.
Albatross was still leaking so I bought some very nice plastic cooling hose which unfortunately was not only (it later turned out) entirely irrelevant to the problem but also the wrong size.

17 June
To St Evette.   The weather in Blighty was now, we understand,  a proper heatwave  but this did not extend as far as West Brittany and certainly not Penmarch.  So after nearly 8 hours at sea we arrived in St Evette and after 3 unsuccessful attempts to pick up a mooring we dropped anchor and went to sleep.

18 June
To L'Aberwrac'h
We like L'Abers, The Channel de Fors and The Raz de Seine.

It was in L'Abers that we discovered the cause of the leak. I was (and am) so excited about this that I have decide to write a special post all about leaks so that my Reader(s) will not miss out on my excitement.

19 June
To Roscoff (without a leak).
We had a nice trip to Roscoff. Especially memorable was the fog in the Chanel de Isle to Batz and the boats coming the other way.   We arrived safely and happily and waited for the perfect weather window for Dartmouth.

23 June
The perfect window arrived and we motored in a flat calm all the way.

Dawn

24 June 
We lived happily ever after (until the next exciting trip .. coming soon)

*Martin     Martin* should not be confused with Martin who is a different person (also called Martin).

Is "No News" "Good News"?

"Why" my reader asks "has there been no blogging from Albatross?

What has happened since 5 June, perhaps we are.........

a. enjoying great sailing and no time for blogging
b the fan has removed the rest of my fingers and unable to blog
c. eaten by Putin, no more blogging at all
d. sailed back to Blighty, no blogging mid channel
e. flown back to Blighty to repair fingers/dog bites
f. got bored of blogging
g. other....

Well, Dear Reader, it is of course "g"...... 

The 2018 voyage .... part 1

Reader(s) may be relieved to hear of the merciful passing of Bonzo our faithful guard dog.  We are confident that his successor “Putin” will more than fill his shoes.

Reader(s) may also remember that Albatross was last seen moored at Noss-on-Dart-building-site-marina from where an intrepid voyage to the Baltic Sea was being planned.

No more! 

With a perfect new mooring at Kingswear, we decided to explore Devon, Cornwall and Brittany again.  The Baltic can wait.

27^th May 2018

To Salcombe.  We motored all the way using our very nice shiny new engine (obviously) and moored at “The Bag”.

28^th May

To Fowey.  We like Fowey and moored at our usual pontoon.

Fowey

29^th May

To L’Aberwrac’h.   We left at 0450 (BST) and arrived at 2000 (BLT*).  The inner side of the wave break was “full” but we eventually found a berth elsewhere.  Yotties are usually more helpful.  Our shiny new engine had a puddle of seawater underneath it. This gave me something to worry about. This is important.

31^st May

To Camenbert (Near Camaret). We often visit this little harbour, although it is hard to find on the chart.   I fixed the leak.  Hurray!

Jean at the helm

1^st June

To St Evette.  Unfortunately, whilst checking for the 6^th time that I really had fixed the engine water leak, I managed to stick my left little finger in the extractor fan.  Fortunately a blade came off the fan before my finger was properly sliced.  This gave me a new problem to worry about, which is of course important. We like anchoring in St Evette.

A damaged fan

2^nd June

To Loctudy. We were low on fuel (more worry) and we had tidal calculations to complete, so I was fully engaged by the worries of command.  We saw lots of dolphins.

We like Loctudy. We refuelled and went to the supermarket and stayed 2 nights (in Loctudy not the supermarket). The very nice lady in the Capitainerie said that all the restaurants would be open on Sunday evening. They weren’t.

4^th June

To Benodet.   Nearly 4 miles, so we went by sea.  It rained a lot in the afternoon, so we went to the supermarket.  After tea the very nice Customs Man visited our boat, but he didn’t want any tea.

We had planned to go out to supper, but it was raining and I was running out of non-sequiturs, so I decided to catch up with my blog. Such is life.

 *BLT=FST=BST+1