engine – HandsOnDeck

Destination Spain

A couple of days before the planned departure date, we anchored in our special, secluded spot up the Helford River, sharing it on the first night with about four other boats, all of whom left on Sunday morning, leaving us to enjoy the peaceful tranquillity of the surrounding countryside.

We finished jobs, prepared meals for the passage, made a new protective cover for the outboard and re-installed Jacklines (safety lines which run the length of the boat which we tether to when leaving the safety of the cockpit), re-instated Hilda, the hydrovane and checked the weather. We decided to take a quick trip to Helford to top up on perishables and while there stopped to have a quick, last English pint in the beautiful thatched Shipwright Inn with its waterfront views and convenient pontoon where we left the dinghy.

Jason had sailed out to see us with a couple of friends and as we were returning to the boat we said goodbye as they slowly made their way back down the river, weaving through the moored boats on their way to St Mawes.

Before we left there was the small matter of Steve’s phone to deal with! After a frantic search, retracing of steps and general mild panic we came to the conclusion it must have fallen out his back pocket while sitting in the dinghy and was probably now at the bottom of the river somewhere between the pub and our boat! As this was our only phone with a UK SIM card and therefore the only means of us having internet, it was an essential tool for, not only communication, but in order for us to get vital information for our imminent passage as well as once we were in Europe. With no alternative, we rose early on Monday morning (the morning of our planned departure) and headed back into Falmouth for one last time.

We anchored close to the town centre and were the first customers in the Vodafone store, where we were helped by a lovely team who assured us a replacement SIM could take 24hrs to be activated but was more likely to be 10 minutes. Thank goodness it took just 10 minutes and also that we’d brought an old replacement phone from NZ, just in case it was needed! Now we could finish all the preparations required to leave later that day.

We had ordered a SIM card for our satellite phone and this had taken longer to arrive than anticipated – in hindsight a mistake, we should have done this much earlier. We had spent time investigating different options as the cost of using a satellite phone is very high, but it is an important safety tool and means of getting regularly up to date weather information. While I did some washing, made sure everything was stowed correctly, baked cakes and made up a bed for us to sleep in on passage, Steve frantically tried to get the satellite phone working. It’s not a simple case of slotting a SIM card in and making a call – at least not with our Iridium fixed phone (which came with the boat). It needs to be connected to a router, aerial and computer and they all need to talk to each other first which meant downloading and installing software before going through the set-up requirements! Fortunately we have another means of getting updated weather through our SSB (Single Band radio – like a Ham radio), which is a beast of a contraption located on top of the wardrobe in our berth!

With washing almost dry, a quick catch-up and farewell from Jonathan, (a friend of Bea and Andy’s) who was passing in his fast RIB, we lifted the anchor, topped up our large tank with water and at 1830hrs headed out of Falmouth for the final time. Bright evening sunshine, clear skies and a lovely breeze gave us the perfect full stop to our long UK chapter. Our family, friends and 15 months of precious memories were very much in our thoughts as Cerulean, weighed down with water, fuel and provisions, cut through the calm waters at 6 knots under three sails and wind coming from the west.

The Bay of Biscay has a well-earned reputation of being a stretch of water to fear and be well prepared for changing conditions. Forecasting accurate weather for a 4-5 day trip is not possible, even with today’s incredible technology, so there was a feeling of jumping off the abyss as we made progress towards France. We had chosen a weather window that offered light winds, not always in the preferred direction but a promise of calm seas for the first three days, at least, which we felt was more important for our first major voyage across unknown waters. The wind models we studied gave different predictions but a couple agreed on a band of northerly winds developing inside the Bay close to the French coast. This made us change from our original plan of sailing south west past the Isles of Scilly and turning south when in line with the coast of Spain therefore avoiding most of the busy shipping lanes and fishing areas. However, all the wind predictions showed light wind from the south which would not make for a quick or pleasant passage, so taking the in-shore route to capture the wind seemed like the best option. We wanted to avoid the shipping lanes as much as possible so headed west of Ouessant before tacking and heading south east following the coast of Britanny which we would have loved to explore but the Covid situation in France and the uncertainty around visiting yachts coming from the UK prevented us from stopping.

The next few days were sunny and calm with light winds. It took us 36 hours to get into a good routine of sleeping but once we were over the initial period of not sleeping and being on high alert, we both coped well with our 3hr watches and grabbed sleep whenever we needed it during our off watch times. Hilda, the Hydrovane, was the perfect crewmate. She kept us on course most of the time and our love for her easy set-up and ingenious design was often commented on. Using her meant we did not need to use the autopilot at all while sailing, saving us valuable power which could be used for other important things, like the fridge, powering electronics and even boiling the kettle instead of using our gas cooker.

The other major win was the way we received updated weather forecasts and weather routing. Steve had worked hard to ensure we had a couple of methods to download information but our preference was to use our SSB and he had been testing this system for the last few weeks with moderate success. We had anchored in some areas where the required connection kept failing and we were concerned it may prove too unreliable while at sea, hence the need for the satellite phone as a back-up. In fact getting our weather through the SSB while on passage never failed and was the cheapest, quickest and best means of communication we had.

We had chosen to leave Falmouth in the early evening so we could be at the start of the busy shipping lane in daylight. Crossing it is a little like trying to cross a multi-laned motorway while wearing concrete shoes! We were only travelling at walking pace while all the rest of the traffic were Olympic runners compared to us! We weaved our way through the large tankers, finding gaps in the perfect places and popped out the other side with relief – now all we had to deal with were fishing boats who often don’t us AIS (GPS tracking) so we needed to remain on watch and alert.

After the first night with no sleep, I started to develop a migraine – an annoying recent condition I’ve developed which only seems to happen when I’m over tired, but when it starts I find it hard to be my cheerful self until the pain and numbness in my face dissipates. While my spirits ebbed, Steve’s flowed as his confidence and enjoyment grew. Seeing this made me feel so much better as we made our way south towards warmer weather, chasing the promised northerly winds.

We were surprised one morning by a swift landing on the boat and staying with us for a while, at one point briefly flying into the cabin before gathering enough energy to head back towards land. As we entered Spanish waters we were welcomed by an armada of dolphins, surrounding us as they headed towards Cerulean at great speed, leaping out of the water and swimming around us for some time before leaving and then returning several times throughout the next couple of days.

Just as daylight started to fade on the third night, the wind started to veer further north. It was so tempting to follow this wind change and head straight to La Coruna but we decided to be patient and continue south as the forecast models showed a stronger better wind belt if we were prepared to take the risk. If we headed straight for our final destination, the forecast showed us sailing out of the northerlies and into no wind before turning southerly, so we waited. We took the opportunity to try out our new cruising chute and made good speed in very light winds, enjoying the peace and quiet and warm sunshine.

We were making our passage at a time where there was no moon – not by choice but an unfortunate clashing of dates, timing and weather! The benefit of no moon was we were treated to an incredible display of light-unaffected clear skies making the universe appear in all its glory around us! The disadvantage being the dark nights which were very short, with light starting to appear at 4am and remain in the sky until around 11pm. As we cut through the water phosphorescent sparkled in our wake and, under the moonless skies, I found this quite magical and mesmerising. Our days were busy – observing, planning, checking, reading, sleeping, talking, preparing, plotting, noting and tweaking – if you were thinking we would be bored or restless, think again! We were both relaxed, happy and excited to see our slow progress as we plotted our course on a paper chart of the Bay of Biscay spread across the table in the saloon.

We are lucky on Cerulean to have a choice of berths to use while on passage. We have three cabins – our main one is at the back of the boat and has a large, very comfortable bed. While sailing in calm conditions it is a perfect place to sleep as you can snuggle up with plenty of room to stretch out and lots of airflow coming through. It is not a good place to try to sleep when the engine is on or when activities (ie sail or course adjustment), is required in the cockpit as noise reverberates through the cabin. The forward berth has become a storage space for sails and other bulky items so, for this passage it was not available to sleep in. The passage berth is where we stored all our non-perishable food but the top bunk had been kept clear as an alternative bed while at sea and I had made it up with clean sheets and warm blankets. Located in the centre of the boat it is the most stable place to be when rolling in the Atlantic swell which is always present in the Bay of Biscay, regardless of weather conditions. Although hard to climb into once there the top bunk was a great place to sleep and watch the sea from the portlight located at the head of the bed while being cocooned from the noises happening in other parts of the boat.

On day four the wind started to increase along with the waves and by early evening we had reefed (made smaller) the main sail. As the wind continued to increase we put a second reef in the main and sailed on just the small, forestay, jib, still making over 8 knots as we surfed down the waves and battled the ones hitting us on the beam (side). We were within sight of land now and rounded the exposed Cabo Prior at sunrise still keeping a good distance out to avoid the shallowing (although still deep) waters that create more sea swell.

At last we saw the white buildings of La Coruna in the distance and, with the seas settling calming as we sailed further away from Cabo Prior and closer to our destination. We were both tired from no sleep but happy as we dropped the sails and turned into the very sheltered Marina Real where one of the helpful team was waiting to direct us to our berth. As we approached the pontoon I pulled the gear stick towards me to put the engine into neutral and then reverse to slow down. Nothing happened. I could still hear we were in gear and putting the stick in reverse only resulted in us going faster forward. We were running out of room and I was not certain I could spin the boat around in the space left between the pontoon and the stone sea wall…..

High and Dry

I’m going to start with some boat basics so forgive me if you know this already….! A boat is moved forward by a propellor, which sits at the end of a shaft. The shaft comes through the bottom of the boat and is driven by the engine. Where the shaft comes through the hull, there needs to be a good seal to stop water entering the boat. This is called the Stern Gland and as the shaft is continually turning when the engine is in gear, to ensure it does not get overheated they are normally kept cool by ensuring plenty of grease or water is surrounding them. Ours is water cooled, which normally is linked to the engine and provides a loop – what in at the stern gland and out with the engine exhaust. During installation the hose connected to the engine had not been installed, which in itself was not too bad, providing the loose end was safely secured above waterline. This had not happened, and during our earlier engine work, must have been knocked into the engine bilge allowing water to flow freely and unnoticed for a few hours.

Having removed all the water from the bilge, we motored back up the river that was now very familiar to us. To cut a long story short(er), the re-pitching of the prop was not a success and, after spending another night in the boatyard and relaunched on the morning high tide, we found ourselves back in the boatyard a few hours before the late afternoon high tide. Richard worked furiously on the propellor and Graham, the boatyard manager, returned at 9pm to refloat us for the last time, as the boatyard was closing the next day. We did a quick sea trial as we headed over to St Mawes to anchor for the night and meet up with a friend, Jason, the next day.

We spent a few days in Falmouth and St Mawes, enjoying the peaceful surroundings of this lovely village, working through our job list and having our second Covid vaccinations. From our anchorage in St Mawes we could see three castles and felt very privileged as we watched numerous ferries bringing day trippers into the picturesque village while we had the luxury of being in the quiet bay and able to enjoy the landscape and pretty houses at our ring-side location! Jason rowed over for breakfast one morning and, as he was returning to shore, rowed into our neighbours steel boat, hitting them with a loud crash. We were blissfully unaware of this until we caught up with Jason later, so decided to visit our neighbours and apologise for their rude awakening. Adam and Marie had moved on board their 48ft boat, Hyperion, two years ago with their two lovely young children, Ella (9) and Aiden (10). We spent a little time getting to know each other, enjoying the relaxed conversation and shared experiences that I love about the sailing community.

Richard had been in touch and told us he wanted to have another go at changing the pitch on the propellor as our revs were still not quite right. As the boatyard was now closed and the other yards had at least one month waiting list, the only option was for us to dry out alongside a wall. Fortunately Tim and Emmie on Shadowfax, our sister boat, had used a wall at the Royal Cornwall Yacht Club to dry out a couple of weeks earlier and Steve had the foresight to spend a little time observing the set-up of the procedure. We arranged to borrow a couple of big fenders, cleared some rocks off the beach where our keel would sit and talked to the Yacht Club bosun who was very encouraging and supportive when seeing our nervous anticipation at the thought of deliberately grounding our home when we have done it accidently, badly in recent times!

Forty five minutes before high tide, we slowly starting weaving our way through the moored boats towards the wall. As the approach is very shallow we did not want to leave it too long before high water, and definitely not after high water, just in case we misjudged the depth and ran aground. High tides were getting lower as we were heading towards neaps (when the difference in height between high and low tides is at the lowest), so we knew that if we did not dry out on that day, there would not be another opportunity for over a week. We were making progress to the wall when we noticed another boat approaching and watched with horror as they tied up alongside leaving no room for us. We stopped Cerulean and tried to find out whether they were intending to remain there or just load up and go. For ten minutes we circled, unsure whether we would still be able to take advantage of the very small window that we thought we had. At last we saw the other boat leave and we quickly got into position and slowly came alongside, watching the depth get lower as we approached the wall until only 0.2m of water was below the keel. Once safely tied up we then had to ensure we remained in the correct position while the tide went out so when we did touch the bottom it would not damage the boat or fall over. We attached one of our halyards (line from the top of the mast used to pull up sails), to a secure point in the lawn to try and give the boat a slight lean and ensure we did not fall away from the wall when the tide went out. Then we waited! In fact there was a little more water than we had first thought and it took about an hour and a half for us to hear a thud and shake as the keel settled on the sandy bottom. While we waited for all the water to ebb away, there was a steady string of interested visitors wanting to know about the boat, our plans, the work we were doing while we were drying out – many times we repeated ourselves but we enjoyed meeting everyone.

High tide was at 9:45pm so with Richard having completed the re-pitch, we re-floated and went to test the engine in the evening light. Our short motor across the bay to St Mawes seemed to deliver very positive results with the engine getting to maximum revs and us speeding along at almost 8 knots – our maximum hull speed.

The next morning Jason and his friend, Robert came on board for breakfast just as Marie and Adam on Hyperion were heading out of the bay towards Falmouth. We waved to them as they sailed past in the light morning breeze. Jason and Robert were keen to talk to us about the boat as they were also looking to sail to NZ. We had a fun breakfast with them and as soon as they left we pulled up the anchor and followed Hyperion to the Falmouth Marina where they were being hauled out. It was late afternoon when we checked our phone and had several missed calls from Jason. He told us he and Robert were sailing up the river when they heard one side of a Pan Pan (an emergency call to the Coastguard where a boat is in trouble but lives are not at imminent risk). The call was from a boat taking on water as they were sailing east along the coast from Falmouth, and the boat’s name was Cerulean! Knowing our past record, Jason and Robert contacted the Coastguard to ask if they could assist and were told it was all in hand, so they sailed on to the pub instead! Jason was relieved to hear we were safely in a marina and, this time the boat taking on water, was not us!

We stayed in the marina for two nights. On the first night we had the Hyperion crew staying with us as their boat was out of the water and the marina wouldn’t allow them to stay on board. On leaving the marina we filled our fuel tanks with 630 litres of diesel which almost broke the bank but comforted us to think it will, hopefully, last us at least six months so eased the pain a little! When paying for diesel you pay 20% tax on 60% of the total for using the fuel to propel the boat, and no tax on 40% for heating. The diesel is dyed red to prevent it being used in cars and some European countries are not happy about UK boats using red diesel and may insist tax is paid on the remaining fuel, although this does not happen very often.

Richard came on board to complete the final few jobs while his lovely dog, Rusty, patiently waited in the cockpit in the afternoon sun. One of the jobs he did was to fix our bilge pump floater switch which we hope we will never need again! We said a fond farewell to Richard, hoping to see him in Spain in a couple of weeks as he had an opportunity to crew on a super yacht. I’m not sure Richard believed us when we said we were really leaving in a few days!

Bea and Andy returned from their holiday in Northern Ireland so we arranged for them, and their lovely house guests, Lilian and Turki, to come sailing. Sadly the rain arrived so the sail in great winds was a little damp, but our spirits were high and we all enjoyed the wind in our faces while Cerulean sped along at 7-8 knots with the new main and yankee (large sail at front of boat) filled. Bea has joined the crazy trend of cold weather swimming and swam off the boat as we all marvelled at her courage and commitment!

We said what we hoped would be our final goodbye to Bea and Andy as we left them in Helford Passage and motored up the river to continue our preparations for the long journey ahead of us as we prepared to leave the UK in two days.

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…….