Post by Tri on Apr 7, 2017 13:22:36 GMT 1
31.3.2017 - 2.4.2017
Master Andy Pike
Skipper Mike Stevens
A Weekend of Mountainous Seas
Andy Pike, our new Club member, is bringing his boat from Falmouth to Chapel Pill. He picked me up at 10:30 on Friday morning driving to Falmouth to get the boat ready. We stopped in Truro for supplies and arrived early afternoon in a drizzle. His boat “She Do” a SHE 31, was on a swinging mooring and was first brought alongside the fuel pier in Falmouth Haven, where she stayed on the pontoon over night. Andy, helped by Fred Creer, had already done a lot of preparatory work but more needed to be done.
In the evening Andy drove to Padstow to pick up Fred and Mike Stevens. They returned at 00:30 and had to settle in fast because of an early start next morning. The skipper and two crew occupied the best bunks but the remaining bunks were full of tools, spares, sails, bits and pieces, so Andy opted (or had) to sleep in the car.
Next morning we skipped the bacon and eggs and set off just after 8:00 in a light westerly motoring against the tide past the Manacles. By the time we had got to the Lizard it had freshened, one reef in the main and the tide had turned in our favour. The waves built up quickly with wind over tide. Unfortunately we had to tack all the way to Land's End. We lost first one and later another brand new soft plastic bucket. The MOB manoeuvres took us too far away to ever get back within grabbing distance and they sadly sank. With heavy seas and being close hauled perhaps one should just immediately go hove to and then manoeuvre under engine.
By nightfall it was a F5 gusting 6 and we estimated wave height to be 20 ft but she sailed easily and dry enough. Andy had fitted jack stays on Saturday afternoon, perhaps a premonition, but when I was asked to go on watch I realized the boat only had one lifeline and the crew on deck had borrowed mine, that being the only other one on board. Navigation was by smartphone because the Garmin chart was set to course-up, as in a car. In those seas that turned the screen into a whirly gig, enough to make the hardiest seaman sick. By the light of the smartphone I read the manual and managed to set the screen to north up. We were southerly of Wolf Rock by then and the ships were a nightmare. I never appreciated that Wolf Rock is actually a huge roundabout for all those nearby traffic separation schemes. Somewhat seasick the brain doesn't function to well and I thought it very kind of the big ships to switch their deck lights on and off, to warn us away. We tacked out the way of 5 ships. Nevertheless I still like to think that the tanker I mistakenly tacked towards, coming to within 500m, switched its lights on and off until I tacked away again. Looking back at it, we obviously just could not see them in the trough. Analysing the GPS data at home showed we had over 30 ft wave height at the time. That's of course exaggerating a bit as two thirds of the height was the south-westerly Atlantic swell rolling in on the spring tide. The slopes were gentler than those of genuine wind waves, at least there were no breaking whites coming down on us. Don Smeeton says, it is often like that around Wolf Rock with a spring tide.
Sailing in the night was by ear, listening to the pitch of the wind: when the main sail leech flapped: harden up, when the fore sail backed: bear away. The gib sheet's snap shackle came off three times when the sail flapped and was finally reattached and secured with a sail tie. The jack stays came into their own. There was no wind indicator, the Windex had snapped years ago, but She Do still managed to tack at ~100° in the night.
Going past Cape Cornwall I never saw all four flashes of Pendeen lighthouse, She Do was never up on the crest long enough. Unfortunately the wind veered and we had it on the nose all the way to Padstow. But a sunny Sunday morning saw the wind abate and we motored into the Camel estuary early afternoon. But not before the Garmin failed, only the smartphone carried on. The alternator belt had been slipping for some time, the batteries had been drained by the navigation lights and we lost power. A new belt was fitted by the master of the vessel and the batteries were sufficiently charged by the time we arrived in Padstow. It is a great challenge to run your own boat and Andy deserves all credit for keeping it going through the night. All jobs above and below deck, pumping, checking and the fan belt were taken care of; if need be with vomit bucket in the other hand. And he served hot lemon barley to resuscitate the cold and tired crew.
Without four crew aboard we would have had to run for shelter in Newlyn or St Ives not because the boat could not cope but because all four of us were sea sick at some time, some most of the time. Being crew I must say I made the best of it. Off watch I got out of my oilies into my pyjamas, wrapped myself in my duvet and slept, leaving things to the skipper and master of the vessel. Only to be rudely awoken for the next watch (and twice to reset the bloody smartphone).
Needless to say, we had missed the high tide at Padstow and only locked in at 21:00. After loading our gear into the cars Andy dropped me off in Portishead 01:30 Monday morning barely awake.
We have a great new Club member and a boat that sails well and will be faster once her bottom has been scrubbed. I can recommend joining in on the next leg from Padstow to Portishead this Saturday: the forecast is for light wind but carries a warning: take sunscreen.
Master Andy Pike
Skipper Mike Stevens
A Weekend of Mountainous Seas
Andy Pike, our new Club member, is bringing his boat from Falmouth to Chapel Pill. He picked me up at 10:30 on Friday morning driving to Falmouth to get the boat ready. We stopped in Truro for supplies and arrived early afternoon in a drizzle. His boat “She Do” a SHE 31, was on a swinging mooring and was first brought alongside the fuel pier in Falmouth Haven, where she stayed on the pontoon over night. Andy, helped by Fred Creer, had already done a lot of preparatory work but more needed to be done.
In the evening Andy drove to Padstow to pick up Fred and Mike Stevens. They returned at 00:30 and had to settle in fast because of an early start next morning. The skipper and two crew occupied the best bunks but the remaining bunks were full of tools, spares, sails, bits and pieces, so Andy opted (or had) to sleep in the car.
Next morning we skipped the bacon and eggs and set off just after 8:00 in a light westerly motoring against the tide past the Manacles. By the time we had got to the Lizard it had freshened, one reef in the main and the tide had turned in our favour. The waves built up quickly with wind over tide. Unfortunately we had to tack all the way to Land's End. We lost first one and later another brand new soft plastic bucket. The MOB manoeuvres took us too far away to ever get back within grabbing distance and they sadly sank. With heavy seas and being close hauled perhaps one should just immediately go hove to and then manoeuvre under engine.
By nightfall it was a F5 gusting 6 and we estimated wave height to be 20 ft but she sailed easily and dry enough. Andy had fitted jack stays on Saturday afternoon, perhaps a premonition, but when I was asked to go on watch I realized the boat only had one lifeline and the crew on deck had borrowed mine, that being the only other one on board. Navigation was by smartphone because the Garmin chart was set to course-up, as in a car. In those seas that turned the screen into a whirly gig, enough to make the hardiest seaman sick. By the light of the smartphone I read the manual and managed to set the screen to north up. We were southerly of Wolf Rock by then and the ships were a nightmare. I never appreciated that Wolf Rock is actually a huge roundabout for all those nearby traffic separation schemes. Somewhat seasick the brain doesn't function to well and I thought it very kind of the big ships to switch their deck lights on and off, to warn us away. We tacked out the way of 5 ships. Nevertheless I still like to think that the tanker I mistakenly tacked towards, coming to within 500m, switched its lights on and off until I tacked away again. Looking back at it, we obviously just could not see them in the trough. Analysing the GPS data at home showed we had over 30 ft wave height at the time. That's of course exaggerating a bit as two thirds of the height was the south-westerly Atlantic swell rolling in on the spring tide. The slopes were gentler than those of genuine wind waves, at least there were no breaking whites coming down on us. Don Smeeton says, it is often like that around Wolf Rock with a spring tide.
Sailing in the night was by ear, listening to the pitch of the wind: when the main sail leech flapped: harden up, when the fore sail backed: bear away. The gib sheet's snap shackle came off three times when the sail flapped and was finally reattached and secured with a sail tie. The jack stays came into their own. There was no wind indicator, the Windex had snapped years ago, but She Do still managed to tack at ~100° in the night.
Going past Cape Cornwall I never saw all four flashes of Pendeen lighthouse, She Do was never up on the crest long enough. Unfortunately the wind veered and we had it on the nose all the way to Padstow. But a sunny Sunday morning saw the wind abate and we motored into the Camel estuary early afternoon. But not before the Garmin failed, only the smartphone carried on. The alternator belt had been slipping for some time, the batteries had been drained by the navigation lights and we lost power. A new belt was fitted by the master of the vessel and the batteries were sufficiently charged by the time we arrived in Padstow. It is a great challenge to run your own boat and Andy deserves all credit for keeping it going through the night. All jobs above and below deck, pumping, checking and the fan belt were taken care of; if need be with vomit bucket in the other hand. And he served hot lemon barley to resuscitate the cold and tired crew.
Without four crew aboard we would have had to run for shelter in Newlyn or St Ives not because the boat could not cope but because all four of us were sea sick at some time, some most of the time. Being crew I must say I made the best of it. Off watch I got out of my oilies into my pyjamas, wrapped myself in my duvet and slept, leaving things to the skipper and master of the vessel. Only to be rudely awoken for the next watch (and twice to reset the bloody smartphone).
Needless to say, we had missed the high tide at Padstow and only locked in at 21:00. After loading our gear into the cars Andy dropped me off in Portishead 01:30 Monday morning barely awake.
We have a great new Club member and a boat that sails well and will be faster once her bottom has been scrubbed. I can recommend joining in on the next leg from Padstow to Portishead this Saturday: the forecast is for light wind but carries a warning: take sunscreen.