Refit – HandsOnDeck

Home from Home

Going home was something we had both looked forward to with growing anticipation. We missed our family and friends after a two and a half year absence and were looking forward to hugging our family, spending time with our friends and drinking lots of good coffee!

Although the excitement was building, the thought of spending two days travelling back to Auckland was far less appealing and I tried to suppress the growing sense of dread as the days became hours and the time of our departure arrived. As we flew over Benji Bay, I could have sworn I saw King Richard on the deck of the cottage, sipping a can of beer as he enjoyed a few days of peace and quiet on his own in our slice of paradise!

The flight was as awful as we had imagined it to be, missing our connecting flight to LA from Miami due to long delays at immigration, and having to spend an uncomfortable night trying to sleep on the floor in the airport while our pre-paid Air B&B in LA remained unused and unrefundable! However, the thought of the warm welcome that awaited us in NZ kept our spirits high.

We arrived in Auckland ahead of schedule and were first through the doors into the arrivals hall, surprising my daughter and Steve’s mum, with our speedy passage through immigration and customs. It felt so good to give and receive warm embraces to Rebecca and Joy and the memories of the flight slowly faded as the realisation sunk in that we were really back home with our loved ones.

Our time in New Zealand was spent catching up with family and friends – every day it seemed we were with different people, making the most of our time with our children and family. We travelled from Auckland to Christchurch, where I screamed with delight as my son, Jak, surprised us at the airport, confusing and alarming the crowd of people at the luggage belt! I loved being back in Lyttelton, staying with my wonderful, generous and beautiful family – Erin and Dave – and catching up with so many friends. While there I gave a talk to about 60 people at the Little Ships Club about our travels to date and was really surprised and happy to see so many old friends attending. Bex travelled from Wellington and we had one glorious evening with both my children with me for the first time in so long. After a few blissful days relaxing with Jak and Ju in French Farm – the location of ours and Jak and Ju’s weddings and the beautiful second home of Dave and Erin’s – we continued on to Wellington where both Bex and Steve’s son, David, live. The saying, “you can’t beat Wellington on a good day”, is so true and we were lucky enough to have several days of clear skies and bright sunshine. It was wonderful and comforting to see how settled both Bex and David were and once again, will treasure the time spent with them both.

Back in Auckland we mostly focused on Steve’s family and spent time with all his siblings, children and grandchildren. It meant so much to us that everyone took time out of their busy lives to create special memories with us – we will live off those memories for the next couple of years and beyond!

All too soon, it was time to pack our bags and prepare for the long journey back to Grenada and the growing list of boat jobs ahead of us! We were staying with my cousin, Brent, in his beautiful home when Brent and Sandy both came down with Covid, so we sadly had to keep ourselves away from them and only communicate at a distance with a staircase between us! We were returning with more luggage than we had brought, weighing ourselves down with much needed new clothes and boat gear that was cheaper and more accessible in NZ than Grenada.

Although very long, the return flight was not quite as painful as the outward journey, with no stressful tight connections to worry about. We arrived back in Grenada about 40 minutes late and sped through immigration and customs before being spat out into the hot humid temperatures of the Caribbean where Sue, our landlady, met us in her beat up old truck. She drove us down the rutted, washed out road leading to the apartment we had rented from her for the next week. It was a welcome relief to experience the cool air conditioned rooms as we looked out over Benji Bay and spotted the familiar boat of our friends Kim and Ann, moored just off the private jetty below our apartment. Benji Bay was now full of yachts spending the hurricane season sheltering in the protective paradise of Grenada. As we looked across the bay and watched the sunset and the colours in the sky change from blue to pink, red and orange, we felt like we were home.

That night we slept really well and the next morning Nathan, our Australian friend and neighbour who was doing up his boat in the same yard, gave us a ride so we could start working on Cerulean. The batteries were dead as the solar panels had not kept up with the draw of the dehumidifier, but apart from that, everything seemed in order. We worked hard for three weeks, moving back onto the boat a week after our return, draping the hatches, opening windows and companionway with mosquito netting to try and keep any of the numerous bitey things out of our living space. At night the swarms of mosquitos and no-see-ems became particularly bad and, when mixed with the heat, it became almost unbearable as we scratched, swatted and fanned ourselves throughout the evenings!

Our beautiful new stainless steel watertank was hoisted into place and then hidden under the seating as we carefully re-installed the furniture, solving the krypton-factor-ish puzzle as we tried to remember how everything had come apart, and reversing it!!! It was a huge relief when finally, everything slotted into place and we were able to restore the cushions on the seats and have our comfortable saloon back together! It’s funny how a small amount of furniture can make the space a home again.

Our time out of the water was sociable as we celebrated success and met fellow boatyard dwellers! Each evening we made good use of the endless supply of water and enjoyed long showers as we scrubbed off the days dirt, sweat and smells! One night we were woken to the sound of torrential rain, quickly shutting all the open hatches and returning to our stifling hot bed as we listened to the storm gathering outside. The wind whipped round the boats, shaking us in the cradle and we lay there, relieved we didn’t have to worry about anchors dragging but still concerned about things hitting us! It was later announced that this sudden storm was actually classified as a grade 1 hurricane with winds reaching over 80mph. It was slightly disconcerting how quickly the system developed with no prior warning as it was apparently an extremely difficult event to predict – the perfect storm of conditions, I guess!

The day of our launch arrived and we were ready. We had a new watertank installed which we had successfully tested for two weeks with no sign of leaks; a new water guage so we can easily see how much water we have in the tanks; new antifoul (although we did have a colour disaster with the blue stripe and had to changed it to black at the last minute), propeller serviced, small leaks found and remedied, boat polished and cleaned, sails serviced and repaired, chaps made for our new dinghy (donated to us by Kim and Ann and named KAM), repairs made to our sprayhood which were more preventative than anything, shower sealed, generator exhaust repaired and all through hull seacocks serviced. We felt ready and eager to get back on the water. The yard had let us know we would launch at 2pm, so I decided I would jump on a free bus to town and renew our cruising permit (which from this point forward is known as a cursing permit). As I was waiting for the bus, I got talking to a South African man named Bert and we shared sailing stories as we pondered whether the bus was going to come. No sooner had this been vocalised when a man pulled up beside us in his rental car and offered us a ride. Unsure where he was going, and feeling a pang of guilt that I’d already told Patrick, the bus driver, that I wanted a ride, I turned down the offer. We continued to wait until, eventually Patrick’s bus slowly approached the yard. As we hopped in, joining a couple who had already been collected from another marina, Patrick informed us that he had a problem with the bus and proceeded to lift the front seat to expose the engine which was obviously overheating but when Patrick removed the radiator cap, a great puff of steam rose up into the already hot bus! I voiced concern and questioned out loud whether this was a good idea to head to town when we would be launching in a few hours time. Patrick assured me it would all be fine and, sure enough, it did not take long for us to be on our way again, hurtling down the narrow, winding roads in true Grenadan style! Our next stop was Whisper Cove Marina, a small settlement not far from the apartment we had rented when we first returned to Grenada. At this point Patrick announced his bus was too sick to continue but he had called a friend who would drive us into town. As we stood waiting the couple on the bus decided to head into the cafe for a drink and we were joined by a Canadian husband and wife as we passed the time talking and laughing, while inside I was starting to get concerned about the amount of time left for me to get the permit and return to the boat. The replacement bus and young driver arrived and the four of us piled in to the the hot van and waited for the missing couple as we tried to extract them from the cafe! Bert, knowing my time constraints, had some stern words to say to them as we eventually sped away. The driver was even more frightening than Patrick and I couldn’t watch as he overtook on blind bends and beeped at any car infront of us who would not get out of his way. It was when we slowly drew to a halt on the side of the road, that I realised we had broken down again and Bert lent forward and said to me – “Remember that guy who offered you a lift? It was a sign and you should’ve taken it…..!” Not helpful! A few minutes later we were on our way again, catching up with all the traffic we had earlier overtaken as we sped down the road that the driver seemed to think was a formula one race track.

We arrived at the chandlery and, as the driver was paid based on the number of passengers he brought to the shop, I went inside after telling him I would not be returning on the bus! Bert followed me in and told me to return to the chandlery when I’d got my permit and we would share the cost of a taxi back to the boatyard as he didn’t rate his chances of getting back alive on the bus. With that I started to run the 1.5km in stifling heat and jandels to the customs/immigration office in Port St Louis. As I turned into the approach road a young guy in a golf buggy must’ve taken pity on the disheveled looking woman who ran like a seal out of water, and offered me a lift to the marina entrance. I hopped in, grateful for the chance to catch my breath and cool down in the shade of the covered buggy. Finally I was at the customs/immigration office and a small queue greeted me, followed by a man telling me the officer had left 10 minutes ago and had not been seen since…..! It was now 11.30 and we were due to launch in 2.5hrs and I still had to find a taxi, pick up Bert and get back to Clarkes Court. At this point I was about to leave and admit defeat when the officer slowly ambled back towards the office, unlocked the door and invited the first person in the queue inside. While I waited two other men joined the queue, with one recognising me as being from the boat in front of his in Clarkes Court. I cheekily asked if he was driving back there and he offered to drop me at the end of the very rutted lane that leads to the boatyard. I explained that I was meeting Bert and he said “no problem, we’ll go find him”. Relief!!! The permit only took five minutes to sort and we continued to talk while my new driver (Shayden) waited for his friend, a large Russian man named Igor, sorted his permit. By the time we reached the car, we were old friends and with the air con pumping, we headed back down the approach road to find Bert. Bert, in the meantime, had run several errands and was making his way to Port Louis so it was with surprise that I saw him walking towards us. I’m not sure who was more surprised when I threw the passenger door open as the car was still moving forward and yelled at Bert to jump in, which he deftly did and bounced in beside me as the car continued moving, not missing a beat! We all chatted on the way back until we got to the turn off and Shayden decided to continue down the road all the way to the boatyard, dropping us outside Cerulean to a somewhat bemused and confused Steve! It was an adventure but we now had our cruising permit and, after a short delay in our launch, we were afloat just 2.5hrs later on our way to find a quiet anchorage. As we left the slipway, Steve announced how surprised he was at the joy he felt being back on the water and that was music to my ears as we dropped the anchor just off Benji Bay, surrounded by boats belonging to friends. The wind was cool, the mozzies non-existent and we breathed a huge sigh of relief as we headed out in the dinghy to have a rum with friends to celebrate being back on the water!

King of the SVG’s

Every boat needs a person that knows the engine, electrics and mechanics back-to-front and inside out. Often this is the owner and, of course, this is the preferred and best scenario but it is rare to find someone who is a jack of all trades and can fix almost anything that breaks or needs attention. We don’t have those skills, but we know someone that does……! While we were in Cornwall getting work done in 2020/21 we were lucky enough to meet Richard who we initially employed to do some electrical work but soon discovered he had so many other valuable skills. Since then he has worked with us to resolve countless problems or answer questions which have arisen in the last 12 months of cruising. Richard is most definitely the third member of our crew, so when we were given an eyewatering quote to replace the worn out aquadrive thrust bearing, we checked on the cost of flights from the UK and asked Richard if he fancied an all expenses paid holiday to the Caribbean! He accepted and we were delighted.

I collected Richard from the airport on a warm muggy evening and we celebrated his arrival with drinks on the deck as Richard slowly acclimatised himself to the heat and surroundings, losing no time to point out a few jobs that needed fixing! Next morning work started on removing the worn out part and replacing it with a brand new, 30yr old one that Richard had collected for us from an auction we had won on eBay! Steve and Richard worked tirelessly for three days – pulling, cutting, levering and pushing until, suddenly and amazingly, the shaft moved into place and the new bracket was installed. A quick test showed the whole procedure had been a huge success and the engine was now purring again with the propeller shaft sounding quieter than we have ever heard it.

Leatherback turtles nest on the northern beaches of Grenada. The only time they come to shore is when the 15yr old female comes to shore, scrambles up the beach, digs a big hole, lays a batch of eggs and then buries them carefully in the sand before heading back to sea. I was given the opportunity to join a small team of other sailors and marine biologists, to watch these magnificent creatures lay their eggs. Once the large female had found her way up the beach, we were quietly ushered a short distance from this large creature as she used her back flippers to dig a deep hole. Sand flew all around us as she put an enormous amount of effort into digging deeper and deeper. When she was satisfied the hole was sufficiently deep enough, she started laying eggs. She began by laying small unfertilised eggs which lined the bottom of the hole and provided a soft cushion for the fertilised eggs to fall on. She then laid 115 fertilised eggs, mixed with unfertilised ones which will protect the turtles as they grow in the sand. As she laid the eggs, the turtle goes into a trance and the scientists took this opportunity to measure the female and we were given the chance to touch her leathery shell. It was an amazing experience to be so close to this magnificent creature as she put so much effort into laying her eggs, her eyes were full of tears as she groaned and gently moved her head side to side. The egg laying process took about 20 minutes and then the great effort started in covering the eggs to protect them from predators and compacting the sand which she took a huge effort to ensure her tracks were covered and there were no visible signs of a nest. The baby turtles will hatch in 6-8 weeks and I hope to be able to watch them as they emerge from the sand and make their dangerous run to the sea. We watched her while she slowly edged towards the sea and allowed the waters to flood over her and a wave carry her back out to sea.

With the engine fixed, we set out on a sea trial by motor sailing 40 miles to Carriacou and checked out of Grenada after catching up with Zen Again for a quick meal ashore as our paths crossed again with us heading north and Mike & Nicki heading south to Grenada.

We had sailed past and through St Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG) a couple of times, and now it was time to explore these much anticipated islands with Richard. We had a lovely sail to Bequia, a small island only 5 miles long and one of only three places in the SVG’s you are able to check-in/out of the country. Bequia was the only place we could check in and provide our own RAT’s kit, saving us US$50 each so we felt it was worth the journey to save that much! We had completed all the on-line check-in requirements and had heard that a friend had managed to check-in without using an agent recently, so decided to attempt that too. We made our way to the hospital with our test kits and a lovely nurse pushed the long testing stick up each of our noses. We then waited outside, nervously anticipating the results. While we waited a man came to see us and told us we would need to go to the agents office to complete our check-in procedure. We tried to establish why we would need to do this, when we had done the testing and would still need to go to immigration and customs to complete the process. The nurse re-appeared and gave us some good news, followed by bad…..we were all negative but the results with the required piece of paper, had been sent to the agents office. We asked if we could have the record showing we had tested negative without going through the costly agent and were told this was not possible. She was genuinely surprised when we told her that the agent wanted to charge us EC120 to issue the paper we needed to complete check-in. Seeing no other way around it, we made our way to the agents, paid the fee and returned to immigration and customs to get the necessary stamps in our passports and cruising permits.

Our friends on Puff had arrived in the same anchorage a few hours after us. Keen to see some of the island, I joined Kris and Ingrid for a walk from Port Elizabeth, where we were anchored, across the island to Friendship Bay in the south. It was a lovely walk/scramble at times losing the track and retracing our steps as we pushed back branches and thorny plants! Our walk started and finished on the lovely white sands of Princess Margaret Bay, named to honour the Princess who visited Bequia in the 1950’s during one of her regular stays at her island home on neighbouring Mustique. Bequia (pronounced Bec-way) is a beautiful island with a lovely Caribbean charm to it, gorgeous beaches, lovely homes and clear, blue seas. We hope to return there before leaving Grenada and explore a little more.

After a few days, it was time to move on as we wanted to make sure we had sufficient time to explore other islands. The wind was perfect for a good sail to Tobago Cays, a group of uninhabited islands in a National Park. We wove our way through the reefs that border the main island and were guided into the bay by a local “boat man” where we carefully dropped our anchor into sand, avoiding the sea grass that provides food for the many turtles that breed in the waters. We lost no time jumping into the dinghy and heading to a spot slightly out of the fast current that flows through the anchorage. We soon saw a turtle lazily grazing of the seabed, occasionally coming to the surface before taking a breath and swimming back down to continue eating. It is so wonderful to watch these creatures swimming underwater – something I can never tire of.

Over the next few days we snorkelled every day, exploring the many reefs that surround the Cays. The coral was beautiful – there was some bleaching but certainly the best coral we have seen yet in the Caribbean. The fish life was spectacular and we saw eels, squid, eagle rays and so many colourful fish it felt like we were in an aquarium. In addition the number of turtles we saw was wonderful, often with three or four swimming close to us at one time. On one day we were heading back to the dinghy having returned from a short walk when we noticed a couple of Lemon shark in the shallow waters just off the beach. It was fascinating to explore these rich waters which are full of life and beautiful blue, clear waters.

We were due to be hauled out in less than a week, so it was time to return to Grenada after enjoying a couple of weeks creating happy memories with King Richard in the tropical surrounds of the SVG’s. We felt we didn’t do the islands justice and hope to be able to return to them in a few months, if the weather allows us.

We had a very short sail to Union Island so we could check out of The Grenadines, sailing in the company of our friends, Kim and Ann on Ilanda. Checking out was quick and easy, completing the process within 30 minutes so we could return to the boat and continue our sail south to Carriacou where we checked back into Grenada. That night we had a lovely evening with Kim and Ann and Mark, the owner of a lovely Rustler yacht anchored next to us, and we watched the most wonderful sunset with the evening colours slowly intensifying until the grand finale was on display before us.

The next morning we set sail with Ilanda and headed south. Once again we had a great sail between Carriacou and the top of Grenada but once we started heading more west the seas became sloppy and the sails starting flogging and our pace slowed considerably. Ilanda turned into Woburn and we continued to Prickly Bay where we would prepare for our haul out. Over the next few days we made use of Richards expertise and fixed a number of niggling issues on the boat as well as prepared for the major work we were doing once we were hauled out. Each day we once again marvelled at Richards knowledge and our good fortune at meeting him and now having him as a friend.

We were due to be hauled out on the Tuesday morning and moved to Woburn the night before we were lifted, anchoring close to the boat yard. At 8am I called the yard to get instructions and they told us we were supposed to be there now as we were booked for haul out at 8am! We quickly raised the anchor and motored to the slipway, just as a large squall and heavy rainfall arrived. After a brief delay waiting for the rain and wind to pass, we were very professionally guided into the slipway and gently lifted, washed, placed into a cradle and secured for the next three months. We were due to fly out for NZ in five days and in that time needed to dismantle the saloon and remove the old leaking water tank. Again, under Richards guidance, we set about moving the furniture and exposing the stainless steel water tank. We could now see more of the tank than we had ever seen before which looked in good condition. We started to question whether we had imagined the leak, until we filled the tank and water soon came pouring into the bilge. When the tank was removed we could see it had blown out, causing some weak points to leak and there were several areas at the back of the tank where the water was escaping. Our decision to replace the tank was a good one, but expensive!

The boat was now prepared for our one month away and ready for us to continue working on her when we return. The weather was hot but noticeably wetter and we had moved off the boat into an apartment which had a pool and pontoon with beautiful garden. We had a large mango tree beside our deck which dropped fruit on our neighbours roof each night. Tiny tree frogs started calling as the sun went down until the noise was quite deafening.

And now it’s time to leave for NZ. We will leave Richard to enjoy the apartment on his own for a few days while we head to Florida and then LA. He is finding things to repair in the apartment, now he’s completed so many of the jobs we had lined up for him on our boat. He is also being invited on board a new friend’s boat to give advice on some of their issues – his fun never stops!

On our last night we met up with a group of old and new friends before we all go our separate ways, not knowing when/if we will sail in the same waters again – Walkabout, Zen Again, Ilanda, Ari and Favorita. As my mum used to quote – “Parting is such sweet sorrow” and, sadly, with the lifestyle we have, we get used to goodbyes but it certainly doesn’t make them any easier. The boat is a mess, with everything piled up in the main saloon, ready for when we return and can complete the rest of the jobs that remain un-Richard-ed but with clear instructions on how we can complete them! We will miss having King Richard around, both for his slightly whacky sense of humour, but also for his incredible expertise….. in everything! Our hearts are now being pulled home into the arms of our families who we are so excited to see again after 27 months apart

Senegal – First impressions

We arrived in Dakar, Senegal in the middle of the night, us leading the way with Ruffian following about 2 miles behind as they gently nursed their torn sails on the final leg of our long journey together. Nearly 900 miles sailed in six days and we arrived on another continent within half an hour of each other, having experienced some great sailing, some no wind, big 5m seas and strong 30-40knot winds! In addition to that, we had sailed to Africa! I kept repeating this over and over in my head – we’ve sailed from England to Africa! A continent neither of us had ever visited before and I, for one, had wanted to for as long as I could remember – and we had sailed there in our own boat. To say I was excited and proud of what we had achieved, was an understatement – even though I was sleep deprived I was bursting with energy and wide-eyed wonder!

We wove our way through boats anchored outside the busy port and dropped the anchor in shallow water at the northern end of the bay at 4am with the sound of the call for prayer from the many mosques on the waterfront. It was a relief to hear the anchor drop and allow myself to relax a little. As Steve indicated the anchor was down I put the boat into reverse to bed the anchor into the sandy bottom…… except there was no reverse. We tried again with the same result and checked all the cables were still in place. Feeling tired we decided to let the wind, which was still blowing at 20 knots, carry us back and hopefully secure the anchor. We put the anchor alarm on and went to bed after alerting Ruffian of our predicament and ensuring they didn’t anchor too close behind us, just in case our anchor dragged.

In the morning we woke to find several fishing boats around us, casting their nets from small colourful shallow boats. They heaved the large nets over the side and then teams of men pulled them back on board as birds of prey circled overhead. Bird life was intense, with the skies full of birds of different varieties – stalks, herons, geese, birds of prey (Black Kites), crow-like birds. I was in awe of the variety in a short amount of time and then, when going ashore, the noise from birdsong was quite overpowering. The beach we were anchored in front of was bordered by low level buildings that looked derelict and the sounds and smells coming from the nearby houses gave us no doubt we were going to have a bit of a culture shock!

Before we could start exploring or doing the necessary paperwork to check-in, Steve jumped overboard to have a look at the propellor. What a guy! As he turned the propellor by hand, it loosened up and when we tested the reverse, it worked. I repeat – What a guy! He appeared to have dislodged whatever we had caught in the propellor and now we were free to move again.

Ruffian had already motored over to another part of the bay which was closer to the Yacht Club and found a lovely community of visiting French sailors. We joined them and had to move quickly to catch a water taxi to shore so we could start our check-in process. This procedure varies from country to country and in the more remote places, you can expect it to take a full day to find, wait and move between the different locations to make sure all the paperwork is in order. We were lucky as we met a beautiful French family who helped guide us through the process and even organised and negotiated a taxi driver to drive us to the various destinations once we had first checked in at the Yacht Club. We then proceeded to the bank, police station, customs and to buy a SIM card, all for 10,000CFA = 15 euros shared between the four of us. The taxi drive alone was one none of us will forget. We dodged horse drawn traps to goats, a large turkey, people, scooters piled high with items (even eggs!) and cars as we sped down busy, narrow roads which was incredible in itself, but mix in the colour of the clothing the women wore, mothers carrying young babies strapped to their backs, people carrying heavy loads on their head, the street stalls selling huge watermelons and coconuts, young guys jumping on and off moving pick-up trucks as they negotiated narrow streets seemingly collecting passengers along the way, the dusty potholed roads, men dressed in brown uniforms directing traffic in the middle of the road with nothing more than a whistle and white gloves to protect them as people sped past with no central lines or apparent road rules. We were driven at high speeds, squeezing through impossibly narrow gaps and it was a truly incredible introduction to a West African city. We felt like we were on a movie set sometimes as the street scenes unfolded in front of us and we started to get familiar with the noises and smells.

Checking into the Yacht Club cost us 5000CFA = Euro7.50 per day. This gave us permission to anchor, access to the showers and toilets (not something we were keen to try), free wifi in the Yacht Club bar and, even more important than that, free water taxis from the boat to shore so we did not have to worry about the security of our dinghy while we were off the boat. Sajio, the water taxis driver, came by at a pre-scheduled time each morning to see if we wanted to go ashore. Return trip times were displayed on the Yacht Club bar door and Sajio was always there with a warm smile and eager to help, testing my high school French as I tried to make conversation!

The words “Yacht Club” may conjure up the image of colonial Britain with people in blazers sipping G&T’s from a terraced bar over a pristine beach. This may be the case in some places, but in Dakar you need to adjust your thinking! The reality is a concrete shack located off the dirtiest white sandy beach I have ever seen. The beach is so littered with rubbish, fishing gear, rotting fish and carcases of old boats, I’m not sure where anyone would start in tidying it up. It broke my heart every time we went ashore and got dropped off at the broken wooden jetty to walk across the smelly beach, through the maze of old fishing boats and stray dogs.

There was a makeshift camp beside the Yacht Club, where several tents had been pitched around a central gathering space. Old buses, trailers, boats and some more modern house trucks, created a community of colourful people. At night the sound of drumming filled the air and it was lovely to experience the relaxed comradery of the men and women that gathered in the dusty space, sheltered by some raggerty looking trees.

Mamma Bijou ran a clothing stall on the street outside the entrance to the yacht club. She was always cheerful and friendly trying to sell us an assortment of clothing she had made with bright motives on them. We commissioned her to make a couple of courtesy flags for Senegal and Gambia. We agreed a price of 10,000 CFA = 11 Euros – probably expensive but when we heard how Mamma Bijou relies on visiting yachts for her trade and there had been no tourists for the previous 18 months due to Covid, we wanted to support her. The flags were presented to us a few hours later and were beautifully made with good quality material.

Our sprayhood suffered damage while we were on passage due to the boom rubbing against the top of the hood as we had left everything too tight and the heavy seas caused the boom to swing a little, which gradually wore a small hole in the canvas. We wanted to get it repaired and strengthened before the damage got any worse. Iain and Fi also had some more significant repairs to take care of and were recommended a sailmaker name Djago who was based at the Yacht Club. Djago was a tall, quiet, gentle man who had an air of confidence and authority about him which we immediately warmed to. He was making dinghy chaps (covers for an inflatable dinghy to protect the PVC from UV damage, which can destroy a dinghy in the tropics very quickly) when we arrived. His work was excellent and, on seeing the damage to our sprayhood, recommended a solution and said it would be ready later that day costing 20,000CFA (30 Euros), a fraction of what we would pay anywhere else. It felt good supporting people who desperately needed the work. When we collected the sprayhood later that day it was ready for us and we were so impressed with the quality of the work, we decided to commission some dinghy chaps as we knew we would need them in the Caribbean. It had been my intention to make them but Djago quoted us 250 Euros and delivery within four days which, when compared to the cost of a new dinghy or me buying the material and struggling to make the damn things, was a fraction of what it would have cost us in money, time and effort!

For two days the taxi drivers were on strike, so we were not able to leave the area around the Yacht Club. The strike was to protest about the police demanding large payments from the drivers which had increased substantially recently making it almost impossible for taxi drivers to survive on the small amount they earned. Although Dakar is within walking distance, we had already seen some of the neighbouring settlements and did not feel it was wise walking through them without more local knowledge. Instead Steve and I decided to walk to the nearby fish market that we could see each morning taking place on the beach. A constant flow of pirogues (small fishing boats) made their way through our anchorage to the market each day to off load their catch. We had also been told there was a place we could buy fresh baguettes and had been given one by a kind Frenchman on another yacht, the day before. The walk took us along a dusty road, over an open sewer that ran out to the beach, down a wide track and into the market. Men carried large trays of fish from the colourful pirogues that had been driven into the shallow water, and on to waiting trucks or stalls on the beach. They carried the heavy trays on their heads, using a sandbag, tied around their chin to protect their head. The flow was constant with loud chatter. Men were sleeping on tables under the market stall canopies, groups of men were crouched together in huddles smoking and talking, people were scrubbing large, freshly caught fish, women hustled us as we passed, children approached us asking for money and others just stared at us as we walked by. I have to admit that I did not feel particularly safe as we wove our way through the mish mash of stalls. It was obvious we had sailed on boat to their country and compared to their lives, we were billionaires. Most of the men were friendly with beautiful welcoming faces, but there were others that looked at us with distaste and loathing – it was these few that scared me. We left and went in search of bread and we had been given vague directions of where to find a baker. We walked past a couple of men guarding a modern home in the dusty street. The men were eating a baguette so I asked them, in my best school-level-French where we could buy bread. They directed us to keep walking straight on, which led us into a type of market, although it was, in truth, a ramshackle selection of crowded huts. We were directed again to a small, falling down hut made of corrugated iron and sacking. A toothless man was squatting on a mat with his young son sitting beside him. We asked for bread and he threw back a blanket over a wooden bucket to display a bundle of fresh baguettes while swatting at flies in a failed attempt to keep them off the bread.

Life in West Africa, like the fabric worn by the women, is colourful and varied, and we wanted to see more so, together with our fellow musketeers, Iain and Fi, we booked a taxi for the day to see the highlights of what Dakar could offer.

Tenerife – The power of beauty

We left Lanzarote with a forecast of 15-20 knot winds and hoisted the sails with one reef in the main, even though the winds were well within our range to have full sails up. Each of the islands has a well documented acceleration zone where the winds can increase by up to 15knots, so can make a pleasant sail very uncomfortable, very quickly! We always try to take the cautious route and Cerulean still goes well with shortened sails.

As we made our way south and out of the shadow of the land, the wind increased during the afternoon and we steamed along at 7-8 knots with Hilda, the hydrovane, doing a fantastic job, keeping us on course and moving nicely with both jibs out. The night passed quickly with excellent sailing under clear skies and a bright moon lighting the seas around us. At 4am the wind had dropped and we slowed down to below 5knots of speed, so the reef was shaken out and we continued at a comfortable rate. As we approached the shipping lanes at the top the north east corner of Tenerife, traffic increased but we easily slipped through a hole between two large cargo ships, calling one on the VHF radio to let him know our intentions. We were amazed to see the huge amount of light pollution from Gran Canaria when we passed to the north of the island, which glowed from miles away. As the sun came up we were close to land and enjoyed a lovely sail hugging the coastline as we watched the landscape and terrain on Tenerife unfold infront of us.

Tenerife is shaped like a triangle and is the largest island in the Canaries with a population just short of 1 million. Santa Cruz is the island capital, as well as the shared capital of The Canaries, and the large city could be seen from far away. One of its claims to fame is being the location where Nelson lost his arm during a failed attempt to take the city by storm in 1792.

The entrance to the harbour and marina is marked by a striking modern entertainment complex, Auditorio de Tenerife which some say resembles the Sydney Opera House – it is white, with a curved roof and has an acoustic auditorium but, in my humble opinion, this is where the similarities stop!

As we approached the entrance we radioed the harbourmaster on ch12 and requested permission to pass through the port to the marina. They answered immediately and allowed us to proceed while we attempted to radio the marina on ch09. After numerous failed attempts to get a response, we entered the marina and waited along with a French boat, not knowing where we had been allocated a berth or what side to put the fenders and mooring lines. Eventually we saw two men waving, directing us to a very narrow berth next to a large and expensive looking yacht with the owner on board. By this time it was about 2pm and the afternoon breeze had kicked in, producing strong gusts that were 90 degrees to the direction of the berth. I started to steer down the channel leading to our allocated spot an, the owner of the boat we were to be moored next to, looking on with more than a casual interest. As we started to turn into the berth a strong gust of wind hit us and caught the back of the boat, pushing us past the berth and in danger of pinning us up against other boats, so I decided to bail. With much confusion and more handwaving from the marineros (marina boat handlers), I ignored all the shouting and reversed out of the channel, back into the safety of the large entrance, insisting they find us an alternative berth with more room. Fortunately they did and we happily settled into it feeling satisfied with our decision, particularly when we discovered later that several other boats had refused the first berth offered them too as the space was too narrow for their boat and they were silently applauding as they watched us reverse out and demand another place!

While in Graciosa we had received a phone call from the people we had bought the batteries from. The price of the batteries included free delivery anywhere in the Canaries and they had agreed to deliver them to the marina, which was only about 30 minutes drive from their office, so a good deal for them! I had insisted that we needed them on Monday, when we arrived in the marina, as Iain from Ruffian had kindly agreed to help remove and fit the new ones on Tuesday and we had arranged to hire a car with Ruffian on Wednesday so we could tour the island. During the phone conversation a few days prior, it transpired that Tuesday was a public holiday and the delivery driver informed me he was taking Monday and Tuesday off, so asked whether they could deliver on Wednesday instead. After a lot of confusion that involved us accosting a waiter to ask for help translating, it was agreed the batteries would be delivered on Sunday, or at least that’s what I understood. We arrived at the marina on Monday, fully expecting the batteries to be waiting for us. No sign of them. The very helpful team in the marina office rang the battery company who informed us they would be delivered on Wednesday. I was not happy and insisted they deliver them now or tomorrow morning, as agreed. After a lot of discussion they agreed to deliver them on Tuesday and we left the office, not 100% confident with the outcome!

Steve set to work removing the old batteries – not an easy task as they were squeezed into the most inaccessible places and each battery weighed 65kg. It was hot, heavy, slow and frustrating work and Steve worked tirelessly. On Tuesday, much to our relief and (if I’m honest) surprise, the batteries arrived as promised and were heaved onto the boat, one by one. Iain from Ruffian, came and worked with Steve lifting the old batteries out of the boat and the new ones in while Fi and I went in search of groceries and other essential supplies. While searching for a pressure cooker in a large department store, we had a giggle when we noticed the big store directory at the entrance listing what was on each floor of this enormous shop (see photo).

The next day, with the battery installation complete, Fi and Iain travelled to the airport to collect the car we had hired for two days, while Steve and I headed to a medical centre to have our yellow fever and tetanus jabs in preparation for our planned sail to Gambia. With perfect timing, we met Iain and Fi outside the doctors after being jabbed and headed to the hills. Iain had prepared a full list of POI’s (points of interest) and we had added a few places we were keen to visit too. Off we went, full of excitement and merriment, glad to be sharing a car and adventures with team Ruffian again.

First we drove to Mount Teide, the highest point in Spain and in the Atlantic islands, at 3,715m. We negotiate crazy windy roads with shear drops on one side as deep green valleys unfolded in front of us, the roads taking us through low cloud. The views were spectacular as the road meandered around steep hills with jaw-dropping lush cliffs plummeting to wide valleys and deep gorges.

Over the two days we explored the whole of the island, watching the sunrise at two stunning locations one involving a long walk up a steep, rocky path which Steve negotiated in his trusty jandels again, enjoying a picnic breakfast as we watched the sun rise over the sea.

A real highlight for me was, not only stunning vistas from the many miradors (viewing points) but spending a wonderful afternoon exploring the old capital, La Laguna. The old town is where the islands university is located and is made up of beautiful 15^th century churches, monasteries and houses lining cobbled streets and I loved wandering the lanes discovering buildings and squares with old Dragon trees growing. Dragon trees are a symbol of Tenerife and are recognisable by their large trunk which divides into numerous branches that twist skywards with spiky evergreen foliage at the top of the tree. Sometimes, as I wander around towns, I wonder what it would be like to spend six months living there and immersing myself in the culture. This was a place I love to call home for a while – rent an old house, regularly visit a local cafe, play dominos in one of the squares, visit the local bakers each morning and talk to the locals, dreaming of life on a sailboat!! It had character, history, was not too touristy and was in a beautiful location, surrounded on three sides by high mountains.

It was another memorable, full and fun road trip of discovery with team Ruffian. Iain masterly negotiated the twisty, narrow steep roads and we loved being part of a shared adventure with them again, discovering another truly beautiful island.

After five days in the marina, stocked up with fresh fruit and vegetable from the fabulous Mercado de Nuestra Senora de Africa (mercado = market) we said farewell to new friends (Peter Lawless on Waxwing – Irish single handed sailor – who donated us a wedge of excellent Irish cheese and butter – and Robin on Zilveren Maan, who sympathised with Steve for having such a loud, talkative partner!) and headed to an anchorage in the north of the island called Bahia de Anteguera. It was a lovely anchorage protected by high cliffs and clear waters which we immediately dived into to clean the bottom of Cerulean again. In fact she was surprisingly clean, and the water was surprisingly warm so we enjoyed cooling off from the 27 degree heat in the beautiful surround. We had anchored behind another NZ boat called Tokomaru Bay and we went over to meet the owner, Hamish, a single handed sailor who was retracing his great grandfather’s journey to NZ in the late 1800’s, written about in a journal he had found. His 65ft yacht was stunning with sleek lines and spacious accommodation which will be quite different to the boat his ancestor sailed!

Our intention had been to sail to the other side of the island but on checking the weather forecast, we made a quick change in plans and altered course to Gran Canaria, the third largest of the Canary Islands and where we had been invited to a party with other long distance sailors as well as meet my sister who was flying out to join another boat to cross the Atlantic. It was a 46NM sail to the protected south of the island and with Ruffian nipping at our heels, it was time to see whether Cerulean could out pace them for a change, in conditions that were perfect for us! We were sad to leave Tenerife, where I could have happily spent another few weeks exploring. We loved the distinct characters of the island – the old cities on the east side, the rugged, mountains and valleys in the centre, dramatic cliffs to the south and lush fruit growing areas in the west. To us, Tenerife had it all and we left with great memories of a special time exploring.

Groundhog Day

Early on a calm and sunny Friday morning in mid May, we were welcomed back to the boatyard by the wonderful team of Graham, Trevor and James who expertly manoeuvred us into the slings for the third time in as many weeks and hoisted Cerulean out before lifting her into a cradle located close to the slipway. Since our last visit the yard had been cleared of the majority of the other boats with just a few left to be launched. The G7 forum was taking place in Cornwall in early June and several large spaces had been commandeered by the organisers to cater for the huge media contingency expected for the three day event. The boatyard was one of these spaces and all boats needed to be cleared by the 28 May so preparations could be completed for when the delegates arrived ten days later. Graham was under pressure to not only meet this deadline, but meet it early so work to transform the boatyard could commence.

The new gearbox had arrived so we left Gary to get to work removing the one currently installed. The new one had been delivered unpainted, so it was sprayed red (to match our engine) and left to dry, ready to be fitted the following Monday. We spent the night on the boat in the empty boatyard waking up early to eagerly greet the security guard who was unlocking the toilet block, desperately willing him to move faster!

I left Steve working on the boat while I jumped on a train and headed to Truro to meet Jocs, Tina and Andrew, friends/family who were down from London visiting friends for the weekend. I hadn’t met Sally and her husband, Peter, before but had heard a lot about them over the years, so was really pleased to finally get to see them in their beautiful home. It felt so good to be able to catch up with friends again after such a long period of isolation, particularly as I had hoped that our extended stay in the UK meant we would see more of them and our other friends.

Bea and Andy had left earlier that day to drive to Liverpool, catch a ferry to Northern Ireland and spend time with their daughter and grandchildren. They had left Lilian and Turki in charge of the house, garden and chickens for the month they were away so we decided to keep them company for a few days and enjoy a couple of nights on solid ground. Lilian and Turki are from Palestine and we loved getting to know them over our few days together, particularly as the renewed fighting between Israel and Palestine was escalating and we were able to learn more about what life is like living in such a conflicted region. It made us appreciate our privileged lives even more, particularly when hearing of the daily challenges, racism and obstacles this beautiful young couple endured and still grapple with. Bea and Andy have given them a fantastic opportunity to make a life together in Cornwall and they deserve success and happiness.

Turki made us a special lunch one day of beautiful breads and a feast of Eastern delicacies which we devoured greedily, loving the flavours and textures of each dish which he had effortlessly produced. I think they found our dinner offerings very bland in comparison to the amazing flavours of their cooking!

We were heading back to the boat on Monday afternoon, our bags bulging with clean laundry, leftovers from lunch and on-line shopping deliveries, when the phone rang. There was a problem with the new gearbox and a fault had been discovered which meant a new one needed to be ordered from Beta and wouldn’t arrive until the next day so our splash date would be delayed until Wednesday at the earliest! Feeling despondent we returned with Turki and Lilian for another night off the boat.

A storm was forecast for Thursday morning which meant that any problems with the gearbox being fitted by Wednesday mid-day would delay our re-launch until the following Monday. We spent Tuesday night on the boat with the hope of an early launch on Wednesday morning but when it became evident this was not going to happen, we left the boat clear to allow uninterrupted access to the engine bay so the work could be completed while we strolled into town and then to our favourite café, Muddy Beach. We had become regulars at the café and the wonderful staff always welcomed us like old friends, delivering our coffee to the table before we’d even ordered it and preparing delicious food from their great menu. As we left we said a fond farewell to them all, as we believed this would be our last visit before we start our journey south.

On our return the gearbox was in place and we were ready to be re-launched with huge expectations this would be the final obstacle to overcome in the long saga of our engine refit. Graham and his team arrived to hoist us at 1pm, already 2hrs after high water, which did not give us much time to test out the new gearbox. It was with some trepidation we started the engine and revved her up in neutral and then in gear. We were all looking at the rev counter to see whether we could get above the 1800 revs we were stuck on at previous attempts to confirm the engine would achieve maximum load and propel us at the top speed. It failed, again. We were all devastated. While letting this slowly sink in and try to understand what would happen next, we were firmly reminded that the tide was going out fast, and we would need to leave the slipway now to make it safely down the river. As the enormity of this situation was being processed, we were pushed off the pontoon and motored back down the river to look for a safe place to shelter for a few nights until the strong winds abated.

Our first call was to Richard. He had come to see us while we were on the boat and had taken measurements and angles of the prop in order to gather as much information as possible, in case there was a problem (legend!). That information would proof invaluable as we tried to unpick what had, was and would be happening to resolve this frustrating situation. The definition of madness is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results, so before adjusting the prop again, we wanted to make sure there was no other possible cause of this lack of engine power as it seemed everyone was solely focused on the prop being the issue. Richard was wonderful and agreed to accept the challenge of piecing together what had happened and assess the whole situation before jumping to any conclusions.

Steve collected Richard in the dinghy from nearby Malpas during a break between rain and strong winds. He immediately started systematically going through and checking each part of the motor – fuel, air, water, cables, aquadrive …… we were really hoping for something definitive, something that could be switched/pumped/crimped/tightened/cleaned but there was nothing that stood out. We had noticed a wobble in the aquadrive (a flexible link between the engine and propellor shaft) as we were powering up and Richard felt this could be something to address but was not 100% sure this would resolve our lack of power issue. With no immediate solution it was decided we would be hauled out the following Wednesday for what we hoped would be the final time to try and resolve things, once and for-all. With time ticking away, and only one week until our final Covid vaccine, things were really coming down to the wire to try and resolve this problem before we left.

The strong winds continued to buffer us for five days and we moved from our safe protected mooring on the Truro River and returned to Falmouth as Richard had arranged for us to have a marina berth from early Tuesday morning so he could tinker with the engine again on the Tuesday morning in a final attempt to avoid us being lifted out again on the Wednesday morning. The strong winds blew unabated all night as we spun around our mooring buoy infront of Shadowfax, our sister boat, with Tim and Emmie on board who were preparing to leave for The Scilly Isles at the earliest opportunity.

In the morning we headed to Port Pendennis marina and carefully berthed in a very tight space, squeezing in between Super Yachts and expensive cruisers as we nervously negotiated the strong winds and tide in the small berth we had been allocated. After a hot shower, coffee and a full load of washing done, Richard arrived and started work. His head was buried in the engine compartment most of the day as the rain continued to beat down and the howling of the wind occasionally broken with a shout of triumph, despair or bewilderment until the alignments were completed. Every day we spend with Richard we learn more about his many talents and skills. We feel so privileged and lucky to have met him and had him work on our boat – he loves a challenge and we presented him with a few that he accepted with relish!

The next day we were woken by the noise of a big boat arriving in port. The sound of the engines reverberated through our cabin as our bed is just below the waterline. A large cruise ship, The Viking Venus, was arriving in Falmouth on its first cruise since the start of the pandemic.

Richard arrived early (for once!) and we cast off, celebrating the light winds and overcast skies as we headed out into the bay to put the engine through its paces and see what was, and was not, behaving as expected. The result was positive – a definite improvement and our first encouraging sign that things were moving in the right direction at last!

We dropped Richard off at the marina and anchored nearby with the intention of waiting until the tide turned so we could fill our tanks with diesel in preparation for our departure to Spain the following week. While we were waiting, we were given the option of being hauled out that evening for relaunch in the morning instead of first thing in the morning, so the pitch of the propellor could be adjusted one last time. Wanting to get everything sorted as quickly as possible, we jumped at the opportunity and started preparing the boat for yet another hoist. There was little wind and we were quite relaxed on the anchor as we slowly put things away enjoying the quiet and sedate pace…. Until we heard the faint sound of running water. On lifting the engine compartment we found a lot of water in the bilge and more coming in (note to self, why was the bilge alarm not working??), even though we had turned off all the through hull fittings but where was it coming from? We discovered the culprit was a hose that was lying in the bottom of the bilge, spurting water as if a tap had been left running on a garden hose. We urgently tried to find out where the other end of this hose was connected, pulling up carpets and flooring in our desperate attempt to stop the water. Eventually, having managed to stop the water by holding the hose upright, we slowly made our way back up the river to be hauled out while pondering on how close we had been, yet again, to loosing our boat, home and dreams…….

Splash day at last!

Winter turned into spring and as the trees burst into leaf and gardens filled with beautiful colour and bird song, we continued our daily trip to the dusty boatyard. On 28 March the “stay at home” order was lifted and the boatyard became a hive of activity as people visited their boats for the first time in months. We had watched one of our neighbouring boats transform through several shades of green as the deck, canvas and ropes slowly got covered in mould.

As launch day grew closer it became clear there was still a lot of unfinished work left to do and we were not going to get everything finished. The weather, although improving, was still cold and the thought of moving back on board without a heater, with the night temperatures still in the low single digits, was not something we were looking forward to! After talking to our electrician, Richard, and the boatyard, we decided to delay launching by a week, which would give us more time to finish the jobs and thoroughly check all the new systems. Rushing to launch when there was no need and risk having issues once we were on the water, was unnecessary and took pressure off us and Richard to finish.

The new date was set for Thursday 8 April and we felt relieved as soon as we had given ourselves the extra breathing space! Understanding the new deadline, Richard then worked flat out to finish the electrics while Steve started work installing the heater so it was ready for Richard to do the final wiring and installation.

The delay in launching meant we had a few more precious days with Bea and Andy. The four of us were invited to a lovely BBQ at friends of theirs, William and Louise, who we have really enjoyed getting to know, snatching at the opportunity to meet up each time restrictions allow! Bea and I went on a very long walk over Easter, bumping into Pete, another old friend of Bea and Andy’s, as he took a dip in the cold Atlantic Ocean with his daughter! On Easter Friday we organised a fun treasure hunt, hiding surprises in Bea and Andy’s big garden and making up cryptic clues as they tried to work out where the treasure was hidden! The weather improved a little and we took our new inflatable kayak out for a test paddle to Helford River. Also over Easter we arranged to meet Phil Collings who built Cerulean over 25 years ago. We had been communicating with Phil for a few months so we were really pleased to finally meet him and learn more about our beautiful home.

Our second launch day crept closer and closer. Richard worked long hours on our electrics, with the occasional “Eureka!” moment when he worked out why something was (or wasn’t) behaving as expected. Steve’s anxiety levels grew each day and we had discussions about whether we would be ready to launch on 8 April, as scheduled. I remained positive and focused on making sure everything else we had control of was completed and the boat was as ready as she could be for us to move back on board. Each day when we arrived we hoped we would find a noticeable difference in the work Richard was doing, but every day we arrived to the same mess of exposed wiring, tools stacked in the cabin and a disheveled looking Cerulean. I tried cleaning around the piles of belongings, moving things from one corner of the boat to another so I could access and clean cupboards, bilges, walls and ceilings before carefully moving the mess back so I could start again in another area!

Over the cold, damp winter mould had taken a grip and there seemed to be a constant battle as each day I would seek out and destroy any new or unseen patches. Finding new locations for the mould made me feel almost triumphant as I freely sprayed vinegar on the unwanted guest.

While I cleaned Steve and Richard identified the best location for “Tommy”, our diesel heater, and, with guidance from Richard, Steve then fitted it, traced all the wires, vents and exhaust leaving Richard to check his handy work, drill a whole in the stern for the exhaust, and complete the wiring.

The day before launch day we hired a van and packed it with all our worldly goods, plus a few other things, and drove to the boatyard. Our wonderful carpenter, Kyle, who made our cockpit grating and helped repair some of the teak toerail, arrived to complete a last minute request to do some cosmetic wizardry and, on surveying the mess, asked if we were moving in or off the boat as it was such a mess ….. that was before we started unloading the van!

Steve and I carried, climbed, hauled, pushed and shoved everything onto Cerulean from the van. As we squeezed past Richard and Kyle (while still trying to keep a safe distance apart), I wondered how we could have accumulated so much stuff in just 12 months! The saloon was still looking like a bombsite, so everything had to be piled onto our bed or the passage berth until Richard had finished the electrics.

Bea picked us up when we dropped off the hire van, took Steve back to the boat while we returned to the house so I could clean and tidy the upstairs room that we had made our home for the last six months. I felt quite sad with the realisation that our special time with Bea and Andy was coming to an end and our covid family bubble was finally being burst.

Bea and Andy prepared a wonderful celebrational meal of fresh oysters followed by a delicious baked fish and washed down with some rosé wine given me by my beautiful friend in NZ, Kim.

At last launch day had arrived. I stocked the fridge and cupboards while Steve did a few jobs in the boat. Peter, from Sailtech, delivered and installed our beautiful new sails. He has been awesome to work with and get to know. We gave away 30m of our old rusty anchor chain which was collected just after Graham, the Boatyard Manager, requested its removal – perfect timing. Richard was still working furiously in the boat and Steve was getting more and more anxious asking, “Does this look like a boat that’s launching in a couple of hours?” I asked him “what does a boat that’s launching in a couple of hours look like?” but received a blank stare in response. My philosophy was once we get afloat we can sort things but it’s not worth getting too upset about it until then. I knew we had a lot of work to do, but it was achievable and we just needed to keep the end goal in sight.

Graham arrived and started putting Cerulean in the hoist, ready to move her towards the water. We ran around the cabin like worker bees in a hive stowing, moving, securing and clearing while Richard continued to calmly work away. Tommy the heater was now operational as were most of the electronics with only a few head-scratching issues to resolve. Richard packed his tools and left the boat while Steve and I quickly painted antifoul on the areas we were unable to reach while Cerulean was in her cradle. When it was time to move I remained on the boat as we were slowly lowered into the water, checking all the through hull fittings to make sure there were no leaks. Gary, who fitted our new engine, was waiting for us on the pontoon and started work immediately on commissioning the motor. When he turned the key the engine purred into life and the memories of our old, smelly, dirty and noisy motor faded away. The 2hr commissioning stopped abruptly when Gary discovered the pitch (angle) of the propellor was out and this meant the engine was revving too low when in gear. To adjust the angle of the propellor meant hauling us out again and, as the hoist was booked solid for the rest of the week, this was not possible immediately. Graham came to see us and said he would try hard to fit us in one day the following week. Until then we could use the engine, as long as we were gentle with her, staying close to Falmouth. As he helped us cast the lines, Graham offered us his mooring for the night and we happily motored down the river, picking up his mooring just off the main harbour in Falmouth.

We poured ourselves a celebrational sundowner each as we surveyed the peaceful surroundings of the bay, happy to be back on board – until we remembered the chaos we needed to sort out below before we could go to bed!

Exhausted but happy, we collapsed into bed after a lovely meal and felt at peace as all the pressure of the last few days/weeks/months slowly drift away with the outgoing tide. I’m happy we couldn’t see what was around the corner, as we probably wouldn’t have felt quite so relaxed…..!

Second season – launching soon!

Our long winter in the boatyard in Cornwall is slowly drawing to a close. The days are getting noticeably longer and the daytime temperatures are improving. With this, our very long list of boat jobs is getting smaller and our excitement at getting closer to moving back on board Cerulean, is mounting. We consider ourselves incredibly fortunate to have been able to spend the winter months in this beautiful corner of the world, not only so we can enjoy the environment but also spend precious and special times with Bea and Andy who have been fabulous, generous hosts and company.

We started the winter with a daunting list of boat improvements and maintenance we needed to address. As we began working through the list more jobs were added and we soon had an insurmountable list which, instead of motivating us, did the opposite. Using the program, Trello, we decided to break the list down into what could be done pre-launch, what was urgent, what needed to be done by professionals and jobs that could wait until we were back in the water. This made the essential work a lot more manageable and we took great satisfaction being able to move jobs from one list to the “Done” section!

Just before Christmas our old engine was removed and sold for spares, giving us the opportunity to clean the engine space in preparation for our new one which arrived in early January. We had a few frustrations due to communication breakdowns and ended up with an engine which was not exactly what we wanted or expected. This was extremely upsetting considering the amount of time, effort and research we had done, not to mention the huge expense of a new engine. We were caught in a difficult conundrum – make a big fuss and insist on a new engine, with the result of delaying our launch and complicating our works schedule which had been carefully organised to coincide with the engine install, or bite the bullet and find a solution to the problem we now faced. The national lockdown allowed one person working on the boat inside at any one time so we had carefully choreographed for people to come to the boat with no overlaps and give enough time for work to be completed by the end of March. Andy, my Marine Engineer brother-in-law, had designed a new battery management plan for us, improving the way we generated and monitored our power, so we worked with him to ensure the new engine would work well with the plan. Andy came up with some good solutions which allowed us to proceed with the “not perfect” engine and give us battery and regenerating options which we were comfortable with. The compromise engine was fitted and in early January we were given our boat back so we could continue with other projects on our list. A short time later, the riggers re-installed our mast, which had been removed in December and all of a sudden, we were a sailboat again. It felt like we were making progress.

Getting an electrician to even look at the boat, was proving challenging. We wanted to move, tidy up and replace most of the battery monitoring and charging units and we had soon exhausted all the recommended electricians who were too busy to complete the work within our two month window. The same company who installed the engine had originally agreed to do the electrical work but now told us they could not start it until June and the boat would need to remain out of the water for what they estimated to be 200 hours of work. Once again we felt let down and angry at the mis-communication, but as they obviously weren’t interested in the work and our confidence in them was fast diminishing, we turned them down and started looking for other electricians. After making several calls for help and recommendations from the sailing community, we eventually split the job in two and found a couple of excellent electricians (Adrian and Richard) who together completed the entire job in less than 80 hours. In an attempt to reduce the electricians time, we spent days chasing and labelling wires, removing old ones and learning as much as we could about the wiring on our boat. Richard then continued tidying up and removed more old and unused cables, finding ways to hide some unsightly ones and giving recommendations on how we could improve other aspects of the boat. As a marine surveyor, Richard has a huge amount of knowledge and expertise we could tap into, which we often did!

In addition to sorting our electrics, Richard is also installing “Tommy” our heater, replacing the element in our hot water cylinder (currently we only have hot water after running the engine, but in future we hope to be able to heat water in a marina or when we use our generator), repairing our flexiteek deck and gives general advice on maintenance questions. He really is a trove of information and we are incredibly lucky to have found him.

While we continue with our boat work, Covid continues to have a devastating affect on the UK, Europe and the rest of the World, except New Zealand, it appears! We have been in lockdown, or certainly had restricted movements, for the last 12 months and any opportunity to visit family and friends while in the UK is fast disappearing for us. We have had close encounters with Covid and experienced the joys of a Covid test, and recently we felt fortunate to have qualified for the first in two vaccinations. The temporary vaccination centre, set up on a rural showground in the middle of nowhere, was run with British efficiency and military precision – we were in and out within 10 minutes of arriving with friendly staff directing us through the many levels of ID checks and information.

In late 2020 my son, Jak (who should’ve been travelling with his gorgeous girlfriend, Juliette when Covid destroyed their plans) proposed to his longtime partner. They decided to have a short engagement and set the date of the wedding for February so they could go overseas in the middle of 2021. I was devastated to not be there, as Covid restrictions made it impossible for me to return to NZ for a few weeks due to the managed isolation hotels being fully booked until April. It is over a year since I have held my children and feel the pain of the distance between us every day, so missing out on such a special and important day in my son’s life was a very hard pill to swallow. I know there are many other, bigger sacrifices people have made in the last 12 months so I consider myself very lucky to have been able to participate virtually, staying awake most of the night to watch the proceedings and enjoy the union of these two beautiful people.

It is now less than two weeks until we go back in the water and we still have a lot of work to complete. Fortunately we have accepted an offer of help from a boatbuilding student called David, and we have prepared a list of jobs for him while Steve continues with our maintenance schedule and I start cleaning everything before we begin moving the soft furnishings back on board and making Cerulean feel like home again. Lockdown restrictions are slowly being eased as the UK vaccination programme is rolled out. We have decided to stay in the UK until we can have the second vaccine at the end of May as we feel this will improve our chances of having unrestricted access to other countries, so it’s worth extending our stay in the UK for a few weeks to achieve this.

In the meantime, boat work continues and we look forward to being back on the water to test out all our new toys and systems. Maybe then we can have a few days rest and just enjoy the privilege of living the life we have chosen.