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"
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