Housekeeping on a wooden dinghy

Takes a lot of time. Arwen had a good scrub out this afternoon. What's more I even scrubbed the small kedge anchor rode which had lain somewhat muddy in its storage crate since our trip up the Lynher. Shame on me!  I also marked off with waterproof tape 1 metre intervals and 5 metre intervals on the main anchor warp as well to help me better calculate depth and scope when anchoring.

I pumped out some summer rain water as well and that got me to reflect on how to get rid of winter rain accumulation this year. Well my friend last night started the reflection when demonstrating his set up for pumping water between water butts in his green house.

He has bought a little whaler orca 500 pump which he is attaching to a Yuasa 12v 12 amp dry cell battery which he is storing in a cheap food storage Tupperware tub. It's water tight when clipped down. He will drill a hole for the wires to exit through a waterproof seal/gland. He will wire up a fuse and a switch and then use a solar panel trickle charger to keep the battery recharged up. It's a clever set up. Details about this little pump can be found here. At the moment various chandlers have them on line for around £14. Good value and they are submersible as well!

http://whalepumps.com/marine/product.aspx?
Category_ID=10008&Product_ID=10000&FriendlyID=Orca

http://whalepumps.com/marine/siteFiles/resources/docs/resource-library/
OrcaRangeInstructions.pdf

I have thought about bilge pumps before. I have often looked at a whaler urchin hand pump but where to mount it? It needs to be somewhere in the aft cockpit and then tubes would need to be drilled through the centre thwart lockers and......well the pump would get I the way even if it was mounted flush in the thwart and too much drilling through bulkheads. The advantage of the orca is its simplicity and minimum drilling required. The battery could be stored in a watertight locker and only a small hole and waterproof seal would be required for wires to exit. The pump could be attached to. Piece of 3mm ply and basically be moveable. As long as the exit tube rises upwards and can form a u bend on the inside of the hull before exiting via a waterproof seal in he sheer plank...which it can....then all is hunky dory so to speak.

I need to investigate it more but for the price of a whaler urchin I could get a simpler more versatile system and if I installed a float switch them over winter it would automatically pump out water. However, for simplicity sake I'm just thinking some wiring and I just connect it up periodically to pump out once a week the rainwater collection.

I'll give it some more thought but my initial thinking is its useful. During sailing it could be also used when its raining to pump out water that collects in floor well as as well!

A little fun on a motovespa 125 super

Stacey......a motovespa 125 super

Occasionally makes an appearance here in Arwen's blog. Arwen, Angharad (our wee lap strake canoe) and Stacey all live happily together in our garage cum driveway area.

Stacey was manufactured in 1968 and assembled here in Bristol at Douglas-Vespa in 1970. She gained her registration in 1971. She has a 125 cc engine, two stroke and so requires oil to be mixed in with the unleaded petrol. 

Her top speed on a good day is 50mph; on an average day 40mph and on a bad day 30mph. What day she is having is very hit and miss and we never quite know until we are out on her. 

If you have been a long time reader of this blog you will recall we found her on ebay in a barn so to speak down in deepest west Cornwall and we were somewhat surprised to find our tentative ebay bid won! We duly bought her back in a trailer and then set about stripping her down piece by piece and rebuilding her over the next year and a half. She had new everything except piston and crankshaft. Her body work was bead blasted and primed and resprayed. The seat, an original, stayed as did the speedo but wheels, brakes, exhaust that was all new. The back and front lights had new frames and there was a new horn as well. 

She is a pleasure to drive. Normally very well behaved, she will throw she odd 'over revving hissy fit' which can be quite alarming especially in narrow streets or villages; mor at major traffic junctions and roundabouts. Very occasionally she will argue about going into the gear you want and randomly select one of her own instead! She likes to remind you who is boss!

Anyway today she had an outing to Salcombe, a round trip of fifty miles or so. Lots of hills and the rolling countryside of the South Hams in Devon.  She behaved herself most of the time and it was rather good fun. Blowy but fun!

Steve

Learning to drive a powerboat

Last week I managed to gain my RYA level 2 powerboat certificate......a plastic photo ID card to add to my collection. The instruction from Toby was outstanding, challenging and demanding. He was very thorough. We spend mornings doing slow control using the throttle/gear handle making sure one hand was on the power and one on the wheel at all times. Switching on and off, kill cord procedures, s turns, sharp controlled turns, crossing waves low and high speed, safety equipment and its usage, turning the boat within its own length, coming long side, picking up MOB and moorings. 

Chart work, weather interpretation.........outboards and ribs, displacement and planing boats.

My, there was so much to take in and think about. Lots I knew, some I had forgotten and plenty was new. But we got there in the end. 

Of course, it was great in wind and waves...but the med isn't exactly a tidal area is it.....so I must quickly get into a rib in the next few weeks to go do it all again but taking into account tidal flows........it's just trying to work out who I know who has a rib and might be prepared to take me out (which after a little reflection is......nobody); or I o hire one for an hour or two at Salcombe.....that sounds a fun option, costly but fun. I now need to persuade her indoors!

Another superb navigator on the water

Go to

www.flickr.com/photos/jkohnen/sets/72157646495083870/

Enjoy the navigator and the other wooden boats. 

Looked like a great day out

Steve

Sailing down to the local taverna

In light winds. Hard going but fun.

Learning to use a centre main sheet in a laser

Wow. It's tricky getting all the hand coordination right when using a centre main sheet for the first time in a number of years......and that tiller extension.......aargh!

Award ceremonies and flying

'Her in-doors' got an award for being a fantastic, determined beginner windsurfer. Not sure whether she was thrilled to go up on stage but I know and love that persistent, stubborn, 'do or die' streak of hers. 

I duly received my Powerboat level two qualification and identity card along with another level two dinghy sailing qualification. It has been a good week's learning. Most of the theory on safety, clothing, chart work, pre departure checks, trailering etc I knew, obviously. But I still learned new things.....leave your trailer bearings to cool for at least thirty minutes for every hour towed was a new one on me. Learning how to do various tows another useful skill and perfecting some light wind sailing techniques a bonus. Everything in the rib was new to me. Challenging, I like that. Of course, it will be even more challenging going in tidal waters!

It would be nice to do other courses with Neilson but they don't do the ones I want or need. The new RYA dinghy qualification scheme has become a hierarchical modular system as I interpret it. You can't do seamanship and day sailing without having done levels one to three. Consequently it seems daft and very frustrating that Neilson do level one and two and three advanced modules ......performance sailing, beginning with spinnakers and starting racing.......yet they omit level three. As an intermediate dinghy sailor then, I cannot sign up for the other courses because I can't do level three with them. Daft frankly....come on Neilson......sort it out, please!

As I write this, we are over the alps. I am amazed at how much snow there is on some mountains now, in the height of summer. Many glaciers I know and have climbed over, have sadly retreated far more than I expected. At 35,000 feet, it is a geographers paradise............everything I know about my subject can be bought to interpret the landscape below. Ribbon lakes, u shaped valleys, braided rivers with their sinuous meanders. Transchmance farming. Down in the valleys on the small fragments of floodplain, summer arable crops. Away to my left, the Mt. Blanc massif, climbed and scrambled over way back in the early eighties. It seems a lifetime ago.....when I weighed in considerably less and ran mountain marathons for fun..........gee.......what happened?

Having crossed the sun drenched alps with their cotton wool clouds, the landscape has become obscured by a blanket of lower stratus. It thins in places allowing the sun to illuminate below, reflecting off buildings, lakes and rivers. The Swiss landscape. 

I love flying......all geographers do.....it's a sort of 'bus mans holiday'. I just wish I'd just once, remember to bring my pocket atlas.......I forget it every time!

Escaping........

As much as we love the hotel, its grounds and especially its staff, 'her indoors' and I felt the need to escape tonight and so we broke out. At the end of the hotel drive we decided turning left looked nicer than turning right.....and so we did. Turn left that is.  The narrow lane went straight for nearly a kilometre. On our left beyond the bamboo thickets, the fields of peppers and the odd private villa and grounds was the golden sandy beach. Golden isn't the right adjective, it's a slightly reddy colour mixed with golden. 

To our right were carefully tilled small holdings. Each one had a simple concrete house, roughly built with a small patio; some with pergolas from which draped vines. A simple plastic table and chair set finished the picture. Some had garden hoses coiled to outside taps. The surrounding small plots Held goats, chickens, a few small olive trees, delicately shaped and pruned, the base of their trunks painted white. Some fields had watermelons, huge green or yellowy green. In some, chrysanthemums were grown. A few plots were left to weeds, the occasional abandoned small truck frame, poking through the scrub.

The soil in a ploughed field strip was well tilled, soft, crumbly and well tended. The furrows were straight and deep. This was earth that had been tilled and cared for for generations. Think black hosepipes ran along the furrow ditches......irrigation a must for crops to thrive. As we ambled along,  the occasional small holder would stop from his toil and flash a smile or a quick wave. 

Half way along two teenagers stepped forward and politely proffered a leaflet advertising their parents beachside taverna 700m away. Their big smiles, polite approach and thanks afterwards won our approval, their manners impressing us immensely.....and so we meandered the roads to search out 'the golden sands taverna'. 

Our lane ended at a 't' junction where we found some market stalls selling fruit and veg straight from the fields behind. A huge net had been sprung high on poles to provide shade across the road and locals pulled up their cars to go buy fruit. Simple wooden tables were piled high with tomatoes, melons, onions, aubergines, figs, peppers; in fact a whole array of produce. Behind the stalls elderly Greek men and ladies sat nattering on upturned crates or plastic chairs under the dim glow of a single light bulb hanging from its wire. Scattered everywhere were crates of produce and plastic carrier bags. Four kilo of tomatoes for one euro. Fresh tomatoes picked that day. Back in the UK we'd pay over ten pounds!!

Turning past the small church the road ran along the beach and past two tavernas with beach bars. They didn't appeal. There was something too touristy about them. We carried on and our persistence was rewarded. As the lane petered out, a small beach bar appeared on a raised deck beneath canvas pergolas. Behind it under the shade of eight giant eucalyptus trees was a car park and a children's play area and beyond that, the taverna we sought. "The Golden Sands Taverna".  There beneath the eucalyptus and four giant palms we found shade and respite from the humid evening air.

We had chosen well. No tourists but a few locals. Some men chatted animatedly under the canvas pergola; just beyond were the women. A few youngsters played on the white stone terrace patio.

Our hosts were gracious, cheerful and good humoured. A lovely table under the palms was ours. Complimentary bread and olive oil promptly served. As dusk descended and one or two more Greek families arrived our food was served hot. A menu of simple dishes but tasty, washed down with iced bottled water, Pepsi and ouzo! As we were allowed to languish at our table and darkness descended, garden lights were switched on to provide a lovely ambiance. Greek radio played softly in the background. Laughter came from kitchen staff and our hosts and insects started their evening orchestrations. A few Greek teenagers sat on the taverna low garden walls and chilled out.  Teenagers are teenagers across the world. These teenagers were good natured, chilled out and impeccably well mannered.

As we chilled out, the taverna owner bought us a plate of complimentary figs........cold from the fridge and so fresh. She good naturedly showed us how to peel them efficiently and left us to our figs..........there are insufficient adjectives; succulent just doesn't do them justice!

A very simple taverna, nothing flash, run by local people, for local people but welcoming all the same. I am so glad we held out for the last taverna along the beach road!

The return walk home was peaceful. With few street lights at all, our eyes adjusted to the night. The stars appeared on cue, undimmed by light pollution. The International Space Station passed overhead, a bright moving star across the sky. Under the dim orange glow of the occasional street light, bats swooped and pirouetted, their shadows flitting across the light grey Tarmac road. The evening breeze bought a welcome coolness and rustled the bamboo thickets, from which emerged periodically the odd solitary cat, out on its nighttime patrol. 

From one of the small holding brick huts came the sweet smoky smell of burning olive wood, its heavenly scent filling the night time air. Someone somewhere was cooking supper over an open oven or grill. As the road rose slightly, the sweeping bay illuminated by the twinkling amber glow of hundreds of tiny street lights of small coastal communities spread away into the distance. 

Tranquility......what a lovely end to a lovely evening. 

The floating mooring pontoon

Lies around four hundred metres off shore. It would be bettered described as a garden decking platform resting on a galvanised steel frame supported by two enormous inflatable tubes. 

It is the meeting point for families, for bathing beauties, daughters and mums, who lie on their paddle boards floating in its vicinity and for the various kids clubs who have kayaked out. The pontoon is surrounded by splashes and laughter. 

But to those who know, just beyond but in its shadow, is another world, a submarine world of crystal clear turquoise waters, small shoals of shimmering small fish, greater launce and garfish. Black spiny sea urchins lumber across the rippling sands below and flatfish wriggle their way into the sandy patches between beds of eelgrass. 

To enter this world requires snorkel and mask, a watchful eye for dinghies, ribs, SUP's and falling bodies. But it is there, hidden away, another submarine world!