Life on board a boat. What if and why not?
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Firsts

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Captain Tessa

Life onboard Saboteur means we have to be handy and problem solve (without killing each other). This means we are doing many firsts.

In a week of firsts, this week is up there including, but not limited to, the first time:

• Saboteur was ‘beached as’… let’s not do that again any time soon!
• The dinghy donk (outboard motor) shear pin, well – sheared – as designed… if only we knew that than. (FYI it was because we hit a rock in the shallows).
• Our friend, Mitch Bradford ‘Macgyvered’ a bolt to replace the pin… our donk was working again. Massive thanks Mitch and relief we are not up for a new motor. Mental note, we have to buy a new pin…
• We docked at Runaway Bay Marina, with Marty berthing brilliantly in the tightest spot we have ever parked in
• We docked at Sanctuary Cove Marina in the biggest berth we have ever had… nice.

There is a particular first I wish to talk about.

I skippered Saboteur out of Sanctuary Cove Marina. So far Marty (aka Martin Lloyd) has done all the docking.

After all, being a back seat driver is much easier that trying to manoeuvre a 20 tonne vessel that will not steer in reverse. Much swearing and cursing and the occasionally bouncing and fending off boats have occurred in the past. We are constantly improving our skills; my skills with the boat hook have been less called upon as my line throwing skills have improved, that is if there is someone to catch it and tie us off. And now my ability to simply step off as Marty glides the boat into berth as a pro. Likewise Marty’s skills at reading the wind speed, the current and the space we have to manoeuvre have all excelled.

Many an experienced skipper says the most stressful thing about sailing is casting off and docking. I have to agree.

I knew the day would come and on Sunday evening Marty asked me, ‘Why don’t you take us off the dock tomorrow?’ I replied, ‘Sure.’ I had been thinking the same thing myself. I knew I had to do this.

After all what could go wrong?

And so Monday came and we had planned to leave about midday on high tide. High and low tides are the best times to depart and dock because it is the time the current is as close to still as possible as it changes direction.

I went for a walk to the amenities block before we left. On my way back, I set about taking in my surrounds, where will the wind blow us once we release the mooring lines? We had three lines holding us. What could go wrong?

We finished off a few last minute tasks:

• Put the hose way once the water tanks were topped up
• Put the dogs in the life jackets and clipped them into the safety lines in the cock pit
• Put Zac on his lead.

The moment was getting closer…

Back to thinking about our departure. I had two options.

Option one, to reverse and turn as soon as I could turn and not hit the neighbouring vessel in the pen beside me.

Option two, to reverse straight for about 50 meters and turn after I had passed the fuel dock and not back into the mega super yachts.

Now where we were, there are many super yachts that are worth millions and millions. I can’t fathom how much some of them are worth.

We knew it was slack tide, we rechecked the winds. They were coming from the south, so unless it changed it should just blow us straight off. Perfect.

I check the rudder was straight and we discussed the order in which we would release the lines. Agreed.

We discussed reversing options one and two. We went for option one. It would give us more control of Saboteur more quickly.

And so the moment was on us.

I started the engine. Marty turned the engine blower (to blow the hot air out of the engine) and the anchor winch on. We were not travelling far, so it was ok to turn it on now, and it is a good back up if you lose control; you drop the anchor before doing damage to others, the fuel dock and yourselves.

OK, we were in neutral, Marty was on the finger and released the bow port mooring line.

When releasing lines, we can set them up so that they are lassoed on the finger and you can slip them from the boat.

Alternatively, you can release them on the finger and then jump on the boat.

My biggest concern if we did the later was that:

• the boat would drift away from the finger or
• with my dyslexia I would steer the boat in the wrong direction (away from the finger) or
• I would use the bow thruster and push the boat away from the finger
• And struggle to get it back, leaving Marty on the finger and me out of control with a 20 tonne boat.

The winds were perfect to hold us on the finger, so it was ok for Marty to release the lines from the finger. There was a lot of trust in my skills here.

As I write this I am reminded of when we did our International Day Skipper’s course. To pass, we had to be able to successfully dock the sailing school’s boat. I always went first, otherwise I would either forget what they had told us or start to stress as I waited for my turn. I could then relax.

We had to dock at a fuel dock, on the end of a T, coming up behind another boat and reverse park into a berth. Marty told me later, he was worried for me as I can get my left and rights back to front, especially in reverse. FYI, I nailed it then.

I had not docked since that Day Skipper’s course which was July 2018. It felt like forever.

And so, with the engines going, I changed from neutral to reverse and put about 700 revs on. Marty released the port bow line and threw it onto the boat. The boat was barely moving. Marty released the starboard line and I put another 1000 revs on. Remember, 20 tonnes is slow to gain momentum. Marty walked to the stern line which was mid-ships, released the line and walked back with the boat as she made her way backwards. I was a little too close to the finger, and the fenders were threatening to jump up. I touched the bower thruster.

Marty jumped back on board, told me I was clear to turn, and so I turned the boat using the bow thruster; once, twice and she turned in her body length. I dropped the revs and went from reverse through neutral and into forward gear, and put the revs on. I turned to port (left) as I was little close to the end of the fingers and the bows of some of these super yachts. (Because of my super tight turn). Nothing to worry about because the winds were pushing us away.

And with a big grin on my face, I took us out of the marina. It was massive relief to have finished another first. It was 12.06 pm.

Meanwhile, Marty went downstairs, put the groceries away, and hung out the washing. He finished and came upstairs with a perfect cup of tea, kissed me on the cheek and told me again how cool I am. We were both enjoying the moment. Marty snoozed in the cockpit, the puppies snuggled up and I skippered us to the magic of South Stradbroke Island feeling deeply calm and happy.

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Propeller shaft disconnects from gearbox

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Ever wondered what happens when your propeller shaft disconnects from your gearbox?

No, me neither until last weekend.  This is our story…

Queue music, Freddie Mercury singing ‘Don’t stop me now (Because I am having a good time).’

We were excited for the day ahead. It was perfect sailing weather. We were planning to depart (more or less) the same time as some new friends, and to hang out with them off Fraser Island in the evening. This is one thing we love about sailing. The interesting people we meet along the way.

At approximately 11.15am we were raising our anchor with the intention of sailing from Tin Can Bay to Garry’s Anchorage off Fraser Island. To raise the anchor, it is best as a two-person job. One person at the bow of the boat who needs to step on the anchor button to raise the anchor at the same time as using their arms to indicate the direction of the anchor chain to the person at the helm. The helmsman steers the boat in the direction of the anchor chain while putting us into gear and gently nudging the boat forward.

I was at the bow waving my arms, nowhere near as precisely as the guys at the airport do when guiding the airplane pilots to their spots, but you get the idea. While Martin was steering the boat and nudging her forward. Only we were not moving forward – we had no gears. No forward, no neutral and no reverse.

Spirits still high, we drop the anchor again quickly. We are in shallow water with a running current and rising wind.  

Fade, ‘Don’t stop me now’…

Queue music: Freddie singing, ‘I want to be free’.

Once we were certain the anchor was secure, we headed downstairs to check out why we had no gears. Martin stuck his head in the cupboard door under the sink to investigate (the engine is located under the sink). His investigation revealed that the propeller shaft was disconnected from the gear box. There was about 5 cm of air between the two.

He explained this to me. I stuck my head in to check it out. Yes, nothing but air.

I observed Martin’s energy levels drop and felt my own enthusiasm wane.

Gearbox and propeller shaft

We were baffled as to how this happened. After all it is a new engine with approximately a hundred hours on the clock. Peering in the engine compartment once more, I thought I saw a bolt thread lying on the floor. We grabbed our inspection camera and had a look. Yes, it is a bolt. I squeezed my body in over the engine, left elbow on the engine head and rotated my torso right to gain extension. I reached for the bolt with my fingertips, felt it. Bingo. I was able to grab it. I handed it to Martin. Went headfirst back into the engine compartment. I blindly felt around and found another bolt.

We thought these were the bolts that were holding the propeller shaft and gear box together. But apparently not. Martin attempted to reconnect them. As he did sea water starts rushing in through the prop shaft gland. We feel our plans slipping away.

Fade, ‘I want to break free’.

Queue Freddie singing, ‘Another one bites the dust (hey, it’s going to get to you)’.

Not good.

The bilge pump started up pumping hard. While we were not sinking (yet) we were not sure if the bilge pump was keeping up. We are both covered in grease. I absentmindedly grabbed a tea towel to wipe my hands. Damn, I did a Martin, I am annoyed every time he uses a tea towel instead of a paper towel. This time I did it… You have to laugh… And be kind to each other.

We started working through our options. Martin phoned the Tin Can Bay Marine Rescue. After a chat and exploring various options, they headed out to us with an extra pump ‘just in case’. Meanwhile we were all working on the plan as to what we are actually going to do. It was a bit of a blur. They suggested we get in touch with the Tin Can Bay Marina to see if they have room for us and can haul us out if we can’t stop the water ingress. And to see if they could also assist with finding a shipwright or mechanic to ensure the water stops coming in.

Fade, ‘Another one bites the dust’.

Queue Freddie singing, ‘Somebody to love (can anyone find me… someone to love)’   

By the time Marine Rescue had arrived, so had the Marina crew. Perfect, we are feeling the love now. We were towed by the Marina rescue. I was on the helm. It was my job to keep the boat dead centre behind the rescue boat. Martin was doing an assortment of jobs in preparation for what lay ahead.

The coast guards and the marina crew were brilliant.

We spent the next 30 minutes being towed by the coast guard. As we neared the marina, the marina crew strapped their boat to our stern. On their instruction, the coast guard then dropped their line and peeled away. From there Andrew skillfully guided us into the marina fuel dock.

Just as we finished tying our lines to the deck, a guy, tanned, sporting some cool dreadlocks, wondered up to our boat. It was Greg the local shipwright. He was wearing working gear, a cool chunky silver chain and pendant, and his hands showed the evidence of his trade. He said hello and smiled.

After introductions he asked the customary question, ‘Permission to come on board?’ Absolutely, he soon disappeared headfirst into the engine compartment. It was a busy time. The fuel dock was crowded with our boat, the marina boat and the coast guard. We still had their extra pump and held on to it just in case. We said thank you and promised to deliver it back to them on Monday. Now we were waiting for Greg to inform us if he could stop the water or if we had to be hauled out straight away. The good news was our bilge pump was keeping up.

Greg reappeared in the cockpit. Decisions needed to be made. Could we stop the water ingress? Could we work out what has happened? Did we need to be hauled out? If so, would our boat fit on their haul out facility.

Fade, ‘Somebody to love’

Queue Freddie singing, ‘Under pressure (Pressure falling down on me, falling down on you)’.

The answers:
  • Could we stop the water ingress?
  • Greg was able to push the propeller shaft back against the gland and in doing so, stopped the water flowing in.

Q.   Could we work out what has happened?

A.   We discussed various options and came up with a few theories.

Q.  Did we need to be hauled out?

A.   Yes, we did.

Q.   Would our boat fit in the marina’s haul out facility?

A.   This took a little time to answer with Andrew (Haul-out Hardstand Manager) and Martin swapping boat dimensions and measuring bits and pieces to be certain. The facility is not really meant for boats our size. They have a small 30 tonne lift. It was decided. We would fit… It would be interesting and very close.

Finally, with the decision having been made that we needed to be hauled out, we now needed to decide when. Greg was happy that we had stopped taking water. This meant we could stay in the water until Monday, as we needed to access their 30 tonne lift at high tide.

We had a hitch and just learnt that when we are out of the water, we cannot stay on the boat. We now had to find a place to stay that would take us, plus our two dogs and a cat. David the Marina Manager phoned around and found an Air B&B that would take us. Brilliant. We could stay on the boat until Monday.

And so we could breathe a little and ponder… not sure what. Somewhere along the way we had contacted our friends who we were meeting at Garry’s Anchorage to tell them we would not make it and to turn on to channel 77 if they wanted to hear our dramas on the radio.

Being on the boat had its own challenges.

We were at the fuel dock which was fine, however we did not have access to shore power. We had to be economical with our power usage and keep the batteries charged. There was an issue as the lights were flickering indicating that there may be a short somewhere. More issues… We really don’t want to think about. But need to…

We had started raising the anchor at 11.15am. All our new friends (the marine rescue, the marina staff and Greg) had finally left at around 4 pm. Both of us had not had lunch and were super tired and hungry.

Sunset at the sailing club

We fed the cat and grabbed the dogs and put them on their leads and wandered down to the sailing club to eat. It was about 4.15 when we arrived. The kitchen was not going to be open until 5. We begged for something simple. Hot chips it was, and at 4.30 we were eating the best hot chips whilst watching a gorgeous sunset. We were sitting on the deck.

And the cool air settles as the sun goes down

As the sun lowered, we were cast in shade and it became suddenly very cool. Martin wondered back to the boat to grab a jacket. Five pm could not come around fast enough. We were grateful for all the support along with being stuck in such a beautiful location. We ordered a plate of Gnocchi to share and tried to stay awake and wandered back to the boat and passed out. Exhausted from the days adventure.

Fade, ‘Under pressure’

Queue Freddie singing, ‘The show must go on’

To be continued….

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Get me out of here!!

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‘Get me out of here!’ I said to myself. Along with:

  • I hate sailing
  • I hate being cold
  • I hate being wet
  • Are we there yet?

I was seriously queasy. I asked Martin ‘How much longer?’ And he informs me that what we thought was going to be another three hours was likely to be another five. ‘Five, you have got to be kidding. I go downstairs and hope to throw up. It does not happen.

Captain Tessa crossing the Mooloolaba bar.

The day had started with me taking us off anchor and heading out of a relatively calm Mooloolaba bar. The coast guards have excellent instructions on how to cross to the bar. Thank you very much Mooloolaba coast guards. I completed my first bar crossing as skipper and was proud of myself.

I turn the boat to the open water with the plan of heading north east away from land to catch the South easterly breeze, then after about five hours turning west to sail into Double Island Point anchorage for the night. We put the headsail up first as the wind was from our starboard quarter. We were doing 6.5 knots. It was pretty good speed really. However, it was rough, rougher than expected. The swell was the size we expected however we could not comfortably sail in the direction we wanted.  We tried to trim the sails to make the passage more comfortable. Eventually the head sail came down and we put up the smaller staysail. More correctly Martin put the steering lock on and changed the sails. I was too sick.

Mooloolaba Bar
We sailed in the same rough conditions for about 10 hours. I was queasy the whole time.

I was still saying to myself:

  • Get me out of here
  • I hate sailing
  • I hate being cold

Now I have added a few more things to the list:

  • When can I get of the boat, and
  • What do you mean with have another 3 hours of this. You have got to be kidding!!!

I spared myself from feeling guilty about not helping Martin as he had done the same trip a few weeks ago with a friend and he was sick the whole way. Sicker than me by all accounts. Meanwhile, I want to throw up and can’t. Martin is on the helm, auto pilot handling the conditions perfectly and Martin was leaning back reading his book on his phone. You have got to be kidding. He is quite pleased not to be sick this time. For that I am grateful.

After 11 hours after starting out, we finally anchored on the lee of Double Island point.

It is still lumpy rough. I go to bed without eating. Martin gives all the animals a light meal of dry food, just in case.

The following morning we arose and had a slow start. We miscalculated how long it would take to get to the Wide Bay Bar by an hour. We would be crossing an hour after the highest water. Not really a big problem. We checked the height of the swell and breakers with the Tin Can Bay coastguard. It is the Captains call. On paper it all seems OK. What could go wrong? (Nothing actually did – Martin).

We continue and make good time. I am still queasy. So again, all the work falls on Martin.

‘I still hate sailing, please get me out of here’

We make good time and have the approach into the Wide Bay Bar programmed into the nav system. It is a long approach. As we turn to approach the bay so does the swell turn to waves with breakers. We are constantly adjusting as the swell and waves want us to take a more direct route to shore. We had to stay on the waypoints to keep maximum depth underneath us. This was Martins job which he did brilliantly. While I had to watch the swell and breakers for particularly high ones we need to turn away from. We settled into a rhythm of working well together. Our boat Saboteur rose up, rode and surfed the swell and waves brilliantly.

Our boat was made for this.

It was exhilarating.

I love sailing.

Honestly, I do.

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Still learning…

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Captain Marty at the helm

The night is peaceful and calm. Martin has had a busy day readying the boat for tomorrow’s sail. We have set ourselves a goal of going sailing every second weekend. After all we are still learning. As we ready, my mind reflects back to our sail two weeks ago.

—

Sunday came and we awoke with excitement and a little trepidation, as we were going to not only put the sails through their paces, but it was the first time the three animals had been sailing. Time will tell how the animals will go. We (humans and animals both)are all learning and adjusting to life on board. Finally, we were able to turn our attention to the boat and putting her new sails through their paces.

We readied the boat. Put most extra items away down below. Everything needs a home. When you go on board someone’s you boat can immediately tell whether they regularly take it out by how many items they have to put away. For us the galley is typically always cleared and if anything, it is the clean dishes that need to be put away. Notwithstanding, the two sink design is set up so that the draining tray sits in the second larger sink and nothing could fall out if left there. It just might move around a little. The heads and the Nav station are tidied. Laptops and my iMac are the main things to put away. We have been gradually finding homes for things.

We forgot to go through the “IF WOBBLE” check list before we depart
(apologies to Elliot our International Day skipper instructor).

Easy mistake for an absolute beginner but also easy for us to say it should all be working as, after all everything is brand new. And we are still learning.

I = Isolate. (Disconnect shore power and stow the power cable properly, check there are no lines [ropes] on the water)
F = Fuel (check you have sufficient fuel for the journey)

Now the above is all pretty obvious, and I got that. The following will make sense, however on a boat you need to be across all of these and check them every time. As I said I am still learning. My training was back in July 2019 in the beautiful Whitsundays. It has been a year now and we are finally at a point where we can do these checks on our boat before sailing. And it has been 6 months since we did our engine maintenance course. Confession: I have had to look some of this up to write this post. I don’t mind as it helps my learning and remembering…

All the while I have David Bowies words in my head – Absolute Beginners.

W = Water
Check that the cock allowing seawater to the heat exchanger is open. Then after the engine has started, check the cooling water from the exhaust and for 30 seconds afterwards.

O = Oil
You would check it the same way you would in your car, just got to remember where it is on our engine. We have a new engine if you recall.

B = Belt
Again, just like your car. I need to learn what the right tension feels like, and for that matter how to change an engine belt.

We are half way there now. Still learning…
It is kind of funny to be learning the obvious.

B = Bilge
Here we are meant to lift a few floorboards to check for water in the hull, just in case the automatic bilge pumps are not working.

L = Leaks
I assume here we check for leaks anywhere in the engine, any pipe connections etc. In theory we should be pretty good in this space as all our pipes are new as well.

E = Electrics & Exhaust
Here we turn on the electrics, our navigation, our depth finder and wind instruments, radio and switch to the local channel where they regularly report the weather conditions and any incidents to avoid etc. As well as the engine exhaust extraction pump, otherwise the boat will be full of engine fumes.

As I said we pretty much forgot to run through this check list but ended up somehow doing the obvious ones, disconnect the power slip the lines, turn on the engine exhaust pump etc.

Our neighbours come on board with a fresh brew of coffee. It smells amazing and we are happy to be sharing this trip with Daniel Cooke and Sarah Schwaner. With fresh coffee and enthusiasm, we slipped our lines and Martin beautifully guided Saboteur off the finger allowing the tide to gently drift Saboteur out of our pen . He turned her to head out of the marina and we commenced our trip along the Coomera river towards the Southport Seaway though the Southport bar into open ocean. (and back again).

We had two goals; to test the new mainsail and staysail, including our ability to raise and lower the Main from our new LeisureFurl boom.
And also to test the animals and see what their sea legs are like.

In the morning I gave all three of them a very small dose of an anti-anxiety drug provided to me by the vet. It worked a treat on the cat; however I am not sure it affected on the dogs.

The cat was locked in our bedroom and his litter tray was handy in the ensuite. While he did not like the loud engine noise, we had no complaints from him about being locked in the bedroom. And more importantly he did not throw up. I checked in on him a few times and he spent most of the day snoozing on our bed.

The dogs are always happiest when they are with us.

Tess sitting in the cock pit with Nitro (the dog)
Always by my side.

By with us I mean near us. The dogs started our journey below deck while we slipped the lines. While this was happening, they were sitting at the base of the companion way whingeing about not being in the cockpit where all the action was happening. As soon as we were underway, they joined us in the cockpit with their life jackets on, clipped on to their leads that was strapped to the safety line. They have been trained to sit were we tell them to. Most of the time they followed this order. When they stray they usually return to their spot on instruction. They were once again happy. We put them below when we crossed the bar and brought them back to the cockpit again when we were in the open water. Like Zac, the dogs did not throw up. This made us both relieved.

As we headed to towards the Southport Bar, I went below and radioed into the Gold Coast Seaway coast guard our intentions for the day.

Confession time again, I truly could not remember what I was meant to do and say, and even though Martin reminded me before I disappeared down the companion way, it was like my nerves had erased my memory.

I grabbed my training book and I kid you not, it fell open on the page I needed. Then, I had to work out how to slide the hand piece of the radio, press the button and remember to say over.

I had to turn down the volume of the radio as it had been loud so we could hear it with the wind and background noise etc.

“Coastguard, Coastguard This is SV (Sailing vessel) Saboteur” (I forgot to say over). “SV can you repeat”. “Coastguard Coastguard This is SV Saboteur Over”. “Saboteur can you turn to Channel 73 please”. In my mind, ahhh which dials do I turn…I find it and rush past the channel and back again. And so, I find Channel 73. “Coastguard this is SV Saboteur Over…”

With that we exchange the required details, Vessel, plan, number of people (I leave off the 3 animals), mobile phone and they wish us a fun sail. I go back upstairs.

The bar crossing was not too bad.

I have had plenty worse and so we found ourselves out in the open water of the Coral Sea for the first time. We are used to sailing in Moreton Bay with a collection of islands to pick from for our destination. Beyond heading east and testing our sails we had not really decided what our plans where.

We had followed another sail-boat across the bar. It appeared to be a training boat as it had about 10 or 12 people on it. We watched them hoist their sails and see them flap aimlessly due to the absence of wind. Where was the forecast 5 to 10 knots? In the absence of wind we had the engine gently purring while we bounced around in the ocean swell; this was uncomfortable.

Surprisingly, we were queasy…

We being Martin, Sarah and myself. This was a first for me (other than with my brother-in-law’s driving that is). I have been in rough seas with 80% of the passengers throwing up. I was kind of disappointed to be queasy. Not of the disheartening variety, but disappointing, nevertheless.

Not to be deterred, we raised our new mainsail. It was beautiful (and easy). And despite the 2m swell and our queasiness, we congratulated ourselves on the investment we made for the boom furling mainsail. We wanted to make sailing easy for our bodies as we gracefully age. OK I am talking about me now ha, ha… Our friend Dan was super impressed with how easy raising our mainsail was. And so we rolled in the swell for a bit waiting for any skerrick of breeze, but there was none to have. Captain Marty decided to head back in. With Skipper Dan at the wheel we headed back towards the bar. I popped below deck and called in to the coast guard to tell them of our pending return and went back upstairs.

Our disappointment did not last long.

Dan at the helm and Martin talking
Back inside the bar we could relax

Back inside the bar our queasiness started to lift. It did not go away… It lingered for a while. Pleasantly surprising, we got some light breeze and we were able unfurl the inner staysail. She looked wonderful. Then before we knew it, we were at the mouth of the Coomera river and heading back to our marina. The setting sun was beautiful, conversation was easy. Sarah and Dan were the perfect friends to have on board. Dan’s experience and Sarah’s eye for beauty and her enthusiasm for life balanced our nervousness about our own adventures… Each time we aim to test something we practically hold our breath as we wait to see if it was a sound investment (or not). And so we furled our staysail as we turned into the Coomera river. And I could feel my breathing return.

I enjoyed the contentment that came with being happy. And I was. From here there were so many magic moments. Sarah grabbing her camera and taking photos of the wallabies on the edge of the Coomera river, moments of touch and connection as we relaxed while the afternoon passed behind us.

We were approaching the marina and Martin took over the helm. If you recall the last attempt to dock was very stressful. Today the weather conditions were totally different, perfectly calm, and a little breeze.

We approach the finger and Martin picked his spot to turn. He nailed it and docked perfectly so we could easily step off and tie off our lines.

We celebrated with a couple of drinks.

Sarah and I disappeared for a second sunset paddle.

We enjoyed an awesome dinner.

—

And so as I tell the tale of our last sailing adventures it is now Friday evening. We had a lovely dinner with our friend Bill Fuller. He has just left and Martin has gone to bed. It has just gone 10pm. Zac wants to go for his evening walk. The dogs are sitting beside me snoozing. I have just finished my cuppa; the marina is very still. And everything feels right, just right.

Tomorrow we are going sailing.

#Ilovesailing #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #Tandmadventures #Zacadventures #Petsonboard #Catsonboard #Dogsonboard #wearsunscreen #slipslopslap

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Appreciation, safe travels & a couple of U Turns

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Home Sweet home

It is now 10 days since we docked, and with this time comes an increasing appreciation for all that we have to be grateful for in life. 

Appreciation of the stunning sunset of Lamb Island
Sunset at Lamb Island

In my last post I said good night after a beautiful evening on deck with the sunset and the warmth of the shiraz as our companion, our bodies weary from the days work and happy for what we had achieved.

Permit me to take you back to the rest of our voyage to our new berth and base.

We were anchored in a very sheltered spot south of Lamb Island that was perfect for the weather conditions. 

We had let out about 10 meters of anchor chain. It is an imprecise science. I measure a meter by counting, one second, two seconds, three seconds, you get the idea. And then we paused (with the engine idling in reverse) for the anchor to take. It did not, so I let out another 5 meters, 1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds… We waited… The anchor takes and we checked to ensure that the current was pulling us back and the anchor held. We were happy. We set the anchor alarm for 30 meters. This alarm would go off if the boat moved outside of a 30-meter circumference. Bearing in mind that tidal movement would result in the boat turning 180 degrees twice during the night. I have full appreciation of modern technology such as “anchor apps”. We went to bed and crashed. We both slept well.

And then the anchor alarm dragged us from our deep sleep.

I blinked, listened and jumped out of bed all at the same time, while Martin’s extended arm went in search for his phone (the anchor alarm is a phone app). Our minds were rapidly waking from our sleep. I had put my left foot down first and as I transferred my weight to my right foot my leg collapsed; clearly my right leg was numb. ha, ha… now is not the time I told myself. My left arm lunged clinging to the bed as my body rose, supported by my left leg. I slapped my right leg and tried again, it collapsed again. This was to occur twice more before I had normal use of my right leg.

I was cautious going up the companionway (stairs). By this stage Martin had found the phone and checked the alarm. We had gone approximately a meter outside of the 30 meter circumference we had set. We checked the landmarks and our position against other anchored boats. I was certain we had not moved. As beautiful as it was in the stillness of the night our pillows called us back to bed…

We both feel back into a deep sleep, and then…

The anchor alarm went off again, albeit 6 hours later (tide change again). This time we both just sat and listened. We were convinced we were not moving. Martin checked the alarm and again we were just on a meter outside of the 30-meter circumference. We really should have set the alarm for 35 meters. Not to worry. Martin stayed in bed and I went up on deck and checked to ensure we had not moved and – we had not.

I had about 10 hours sleep and Martin 11 hours. I was full of appreciation for a brilliant night’s sleep. The birds were calling me to watch the sunrise. My spirits soared. I paused, embracing being in the moment with the crispness of the morning, the birds singing and in time the ferries transiting past us commuting people from Straddie (Stradbroke Island) and Lamb Island. Martin joined me in the cockpit. I think the wake of the ferry may have raised him.

It was a magical morning. 

Martin cooked up a protein feast, of fried egg served on a massive Swiss brown mushroom (one of my gluten free alternatives to bread) and some gorgeous air cured bacon. My Marty appreciation bubble is soaring. We cleaned up and checked our route. It was simple, head straight out of the channel turn left and we would be in the main channel to the Gold Coast. What could go wrong? Let’s face it, it would not be a TandM (Tessa and Marty) adventure without a hiccup or two.

My appreciation bubble was about to disappear for a couple of hours.

We hoisted our anchor right on low tide. We were chasing the low tide between sand banks and islands for the next two hours.

Our passage heading out from Lamb Island down the main channel.
Our passage!

We exited the channel, turned left and then had to decide which channel markers to follow. Meanwhile we had almost no clearance under our kneel. We argued, as we tried to make sense of the markers. We headed off on what we thought was right channel, and I became more and more convinced we were heading to a dead end. And then we ran out of water. We argued and turned around. It was our first U-Turn for the day.

We headed out to some slightly deeper water while we tried to make sense of the channels shown on the chart and the sea of buoys. It was so shallow and I was seeing sand banks everywhere. We turned around and headed back, only to run out of water again. We were using Martins phone for navigation (our navigation instruments were on their way still). Martins phone was fine, it was just small. The path it was showing looked like we were heading for a dead-end and sand. We turned around a third time. One of the nearby fishing dinghy’s picked up anchor and moved. Perhaps our arguing was scaring the fish away.

Finally I said to Martin; “You’re the skipper, go wherever you want”!

Martin cautiously headed down the transit lane marked on his phone… It turned out he was right (and I was wrong) Sorry baby.

When we finally passed this narrow passage, the rest of our journey was fine. We laughed because we recalled having the same argument, at the same point the last time we went down this passage on our previous yacht.

A little further on we gently weaved our way through some crowded anchorages off Horizon Shores and Jacobs Well. Eventually we found ourselves motoring down The Broadwater and then we hung a right at the entrance to the Coomera River and we were almost home. The tide was fast and the wind was now about 8knots and blowing in the wrong direction, which would make docking in our new berth at Gold Coast City Marina tough. It was kind of tight. I phoned ahead hoping to be able to book a pilot. Many marinas offer a pilotage service, where an experienced pilot will come out and take your boat in for you. Unfortunately, our marina does not. Bugger, we are on our own. Our boat is big (47 ft) and heavy (18 Tonnes) and with a full knell she is hard to turn in tight spots.

We entered the marina… fair to say, nervously…

We phoned the couple we rent the berth off. They said that they would be happy to grab a line for us. We had phoned our new neighbour Dan and asked him to put extra fenders on the outside of his boat in case we needed to “lean”  against it… as we approached our berth we needed to stay as far left in the channel as we could before turning right. Unfortunately, there was a houseboat at the end of the finger (in his usual spot) which limited how far left we could go. We turned, Martin did a good job of it. I was up the front ready to throw the line out to our ready catchers. I threw, the tide and wind was pushing us back and my line fell short. Clearly, more practice required.

Time was precious, letting the line trail in the water I turned and grabbed the pole and started to push off our neighbours boat.

We were starting to shout instructions at each other. And what happened next could only be describe as a comedy of errors. We managed somehow to get out of our pen without damaging our new neighbour’s boat and were attempting to reverse down the channel. We needed to turn our boat which steers in reverse poorly. By this stage, what is a normally a sleepy marina seemed like everybody had come out of hiding to welcome the inexperience newbies and, or more likely, to push us off their boats if required.

We heard a voice say, “If you can get over here, I will jump on board and help”.

There was no problems getting over there, the problem was stopping and before Gus could jump on board, he had taken on the task of pushing our boat off his and his neighbours. Meanwhile, Martin was trying to steer and I had been fending off boats. With the help of Gus we managed to turn the boat around and headed to the fuelling dock.

We were able to pause and consider the next move. I wondered how many people in the restaurant above us were watching and laughing – best not to think about it.

Our new friend Gus phoned a friend who could give us a hand. Despite the stress of the moment I can feel my appreciation bubble returning. Before we knew it, a young French couple joined us. Mona is a shipwright (boat builder) and Noah is a landscape gardener. They have been living on their boat for many years and are very experience sailors. By this time, my appreciation bubble has definately reappeared. I was grateful we had not damaged anyone else’s boat and full of appreciation for the assistance we had been offered.

After we had caught our breath, we readied ourselves to depart from the fuel dock and head out into the channel and turn around ready to try again.

We had hoped Mona would skipper, however she insisted Martin should take us in. Perhaps it was a voodoo thing. You know get back on the bike after falling off. While at this stage I was nervous about this, looking back I am full of appreciation for the wisdom of this decision. And so, with expertise we were guided into our pen. We were prepared to fend off our neighbours boat (just in case). We had awesome line handlers who made light work of securing us to the dock. Pretty much at the same time some friends arrived. They missed the entertainment. Probably just as well. 

Full appreciation of docking without damaging our neighbours boat.
Safely in our pen at GCCM

With Saboteur secured our friends and handlers settled into the cockpit. We cracked some beers and opened a couple of bottles of wine (19 Crimes Shiraz to be precise). Gus told me, I was pretty good with the fender, I knew where to put my feet, how to balance and when to let insurance take care of it… My years of martial arts helped.

And so we shared stories with our friends old and new, stories about life and doing what we love… despite the dramas of the day, and knowing we need to learn how to turn the 18 tonnes of boat better, we are thrilled to be on our journey. I am full of appreciation for old friends and new…

What are you waiting for? What’s your next adventure… even if you don’t know how?

#Whatareyouwaitingfor #Liveyourlife #Appreciation #Ilovesailing

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In Our Journey

Anticipation, is it worth holding your breath?

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Note: I originally published this article Facebook on last Saturday ( 28 June) Moving has kept us occupied. It is nice to be able to catch up on a few things.

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I held my breath so many times yesterday… almost too scared to believe that we had a boat with a working motor and sails and that we could move the boat without it being towed…

We had become conditioned to anticipate what could go wrong…. Trying not to let this negative anticipation stifle the positive anticipation for our plans, or at worst strangle our enthusiasm for our goals.

We arrived at East Coast Marina (Manly) at around 10am with the view to unload the car, do minimal organising and head out as soon as possible. Seriously aiming for 11.30 departure.

We were confident after checking everything yesterday that everything, seriously everything was working. Or so we thought!

We took two loaded trolleys to the boat, unloaded our numerous bags on the deck and Martin heads back to the car for the next load. I head downstairs to unload. All good. I plug in my iPad. It is not charging, yet other things are working, this does not make sense as we are still on shore power. Not good.

Martin gets back and I share my discovery and collectively we try and work out why. This is not good. We need to be able to charge our mobiles. Especially given that our chart plotter has not arrived and we need the iPhones for navigating unfamiliar passages.

Breathe, breathe and breathe… Right now, you can understand why anticipation can be overrated.

We phone the electrician. No answer. Shite. I phone the pet sitter to see if he can do another night. Phew, he can. I phone a friend who was coming down to say goodbye and cast us off. 

And then, the electrician arrived. 

Note: the advantage of using the local marina electrician is he could just be on the boat next door. He wasn’t, but he was somewhere nearby. He immediately identified the problem. 

No problem at all… really… had to be something obvious (both do a mental forehead slap and laugh and sign of relief all at the same time). Depending on what source the power was coming from determined which master switch had to be on. In our defence only one of the two master switches is labelled Master… helpful… 

Anticipation is worth it we are filling departing Manly
Departing Manly

Awesome, our energy picks up. Martin announces we are leaving in 30. This meant departure was at 1pm. We set about getting organised. We had hoped to leave by 11.30am, no later then midday to get to our planned anchorage for the night. Best laid plans… 

We are on our way!

Our friend turns up. It was brilliant to talk though the options of turning Saboteur’s 18 tonnes and getting underway. It is brilliant to have an extra set of experienced hands help us cast off. He also took this awesome photo as we head out. And so our journey begins… We had 2.9 hours on the new motor and had a perfect afternoon of motoring. It was not good sailing as we were nose into the wind and already 90 minutes later than planned. We wanted to reach our anchorage before sunset which was just on 5pm. We were able to do a good 6 knots and arrived exactly as originally planned and we were pleased with that. All went well. As we passed Peel Island we reminisced about anchoring there last year and the adventures that followed when our anchored started slipping in the middle of the night.

We were pleased to be trying a new and recommended anchorage.

Day 1 success!

Enjoying a glass of red at sunset, Cheers
Anchor secured, cheers!

And so we anchored in time to watch the sunset. With the anticipation of hearing the crack of the seal of the red wine bottle as it releases, followed perfectly by a gurgle as the wine merrily bounces from the bottle to our gorgeous wine glasses and we feel our bodies relax as we take that first sip. It is as if the setting sun picked up all the challenges of the day and carried them away. 

In time, our attention turns to firing up the BBQ and cooking the vegies. Our unfamiliarity of our galley provides some entertainment and we eventually work out one gas bottle is empty and turn on the full one – and we are away.

Sunset
Sunset at Lamb Island

We already had the steak out raising to room temperature. The anticipation of the sizzle on the BBQ did not disappoint. We set the anchor alarm and sat back and read. Martin slid his wine glass over to me. He is tired, trading wine for chocolate and has a power nap.

We head to the galley, do the dishes and tidy a little of our unpacked craziness and head to bed.

We collapse in the quietness, that is shattered with Martin hitting his head just above the bed. “#### I am sick of hitting my head”. There are only a few places where he can hit his head and somehow I anticipate one or two repeat performances. His head barley touches the pillow and he is asleep. And with that it is time for me to go to sleep. 

Our journey has really begun. The anticipation has all been worth it.

#ilovesailing #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #TandMAdventures

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In Sailing

It was oh so quiet

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Tess and Marty Sae-trials bliss

It was oh so quiet. The morning was eerily still. Perhaps it felt eerie because of the significance of what was to come. Our new mainsail was being installed and if all went well, we were having sea-trials with the new rigging, furling boom, sail and new engine. 

Side note: Sea-trials are where you take it out with the manufacturer/installer and put it through its paces to ensure that it all works properly. In this case our sea-trials required our rigger and the sail maker.

Normally I would be excited and jumping out of my skin. However, we were getting too used to issues and delays. When Martin and I rose that morning we barely spoke; each in our own thought bubbles; each knowing that if today did not go well we would have to… well, let’s not go there. 

We drove in silence to the boat. I broke the silence and said we really should do a Facebook live. I recall saying I should be excited however I am nervous…

We arrived at the marina 45 minutes after the rigger said they would be there. We were expecting to round the bend to our finger and see a couple of guys installing our vang. A vang controls the angle of the boom to the deck under sail.

We rounded the corner and… nobody was there. We stood there for a moment. Martin phoned the rigger – no answer. Me? The disappointment felt like a wave that made my body heavy, lethargic and my inner voice says, “Here we go again”. 

We walked the remaining 20 meters to our boat and left our trolley on the finger. We turn to walk the 1 km back to the café and grab a coffee. We grab takeaway and, not thinking we decide to sit at the café tables, upsetting the COVID19 table reservation and cleaning system that is in place. No problem, they have a table spare and seat their new customers there. Perhaps they are regulars like us. I don’t know. I don’t look. It is a busy place.

It was oh so quiet (thank you for the song Bjork). The water was glassy flat. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was crystal clear. There was rain over night so everywhere was damp but with the rain comes a couple of extra degrees of warmth. Nice. All in all it was a perfect day for raising the mainsail. There was no wind. We sat in the stillness. 

Martin tries phoning the rigger again. This time he answers, He is polishing the knuckle and is leaving in 10 minutes. We can expect him here in 30 minutes… I don’t know what a knuckle is. He will be here around the same time as the sailmaker. Fingers crossed.

Martin and I part ways. He went back to the boat and I went to the bathroom. 

On my way back to the boat Martin tries to call me. I ignore it as I am recording the day using my iPhone’s time lapse feature. I am almost there.

Martin and Tess happy days.
Our smiles say it all

I rounded the corner and my heart nearly burst out of my chest. The sailmakers and riggers were both there and working on our boat. It was like an explosion in my head and my heart. Martin walked up to me and gave me a huge hug. I am so in love with him and the adventure we are creating…

I was pretty quiet for the rest of the morning while all the guys were working. I was happily watching (and filming) as they toiled away. I can watch craftsmen work for hours and not get bored. They worked well and swiftly, guided by years of experience. 

They finished earlier than expected. We were going to be doing sea-trials that afternoon. It was barely 11 am. The rigger asked, “Do you want to do sea-trials now or on the weekend?” Perhaps due to the light winds. And finally I contributed to the day’s proceedings and said, “We are doing it now”. To which the rigger said something along the lines of, “The lady has spoken”. We had cast off within 5 minutes and our new engine purred. The sails were put through their paces and my heart soared.

The wind was starting to pick up a little. It got to a nice 10 knots. Enough for what we needed. Brett, one of the riggers, was hosted up the mast and checked the rigging and made some adjustments while we were under sail. I will say that again, He was hosted up the mast in a bosun’s chair while we were sailing. Amazing man… And he didn’t drop any tools. 

The sailing was beautiful. It was like mother nature put on the best she could offer. Perfect sunshine, warmth, wind and some dolphins joined us. The guys even saw a dugong. I missed it. Perhaps next time…

Oh so quiet
Oh so quiet

We came back in. A girlfriend phoned asking if we had had lunch yet. She came to the boat with sushi. I was starving. We talked and chatted. And we had one of those blissful moments that you can have with a friend who knows you well. Those moments of saying nothing at all and just chillaxing after a job well done.

It was oh so quiet… blissfully oh so quiet

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Jump into our Facebook page and check out some of the videos from the day https://www.facebook.com/pg/WhatAreYouWaitingForLiveYourLife/posts/?ref=page_internal

#Ilovesailing #Liveyourlife #Whatareyouwaitingfor #Ohsoquiet

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In Sailing

Personalising the boat and other life choices…

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Personalising the boat… for me options explode in my head, bounce around like a pinball machine and for the main give me hours of entertainment. Everything is a choice…

Every one’s free lyrics

Queue music; Baz Luhrmann everyone is free

“Wear sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it
A long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists
Whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
Than my own meandering experience…“

This is one of my all-time favourite songs. It is all about choices… I wonder if Martin will get sick of hearing it on the boat… This and many other questions are taking up more of my head space.

As we approach moving aboard our attention is shifting from the essential, to the practical and the nice to have. Or what I call the critical non-essentials…

Here’s my logic…

The essentials are a must have.

For example, a fully functioning motor is essential. As is fuel. And the right type of fuel for that matter.

The practical covers a few things, they could make life easier, such as the trolley we recently purchased. It needed to be fit for purpose. So in this case; sturdy, collapsible and compact. Or which cutlery set do we take. Martin’s set from home is lovely however, they are not well balanced and as we are going to slightly smaller dinner plates the cutlery will easily fall off the plates. It already does now.

The Critical non-essentials… Personalising the boat, linen, cushions etc… More on that shortly.

A practical decision first… 

My old ski

I would love to take my surf ski with me. It is a 4.2-meters fibreglass OzFlyte ski. I purchased it directly from the manufacturer located on the Sunny Coast and requested a purple and pink paint job. I added hibiscus flower decals to the sides later. Weight was a consideration. I had to be able to lift it on and off the car by myself. At 17Kgs it was just about perfect. 

However, when we are at sea the ski will be strapped to the side railings of the boat. It will be smashed with waves. However of greater concern, is a whip from a stray sheet (sail rope). That will be a battle that the fibreglass is likely to lose. Hence, a more practical solution is required. 

I have been trawling on-line for a couple of months for a second-hand plastic kayak. Length is a consideration. I don’t want to compromise too much on manoeuvrability and I also want the kayak to glide. I’m armed with a list of criteria and I think I have found what I want… stay tuned… 

On to the critical non-essentials… 

Saboteur is going to be our home. We want her to be beautiful… She already is beautifully designed. Her fibre glass hull has a beautiful hand-built teak interior fit-out. The quality of the interior is spectacular. My grandfather (a carpenter), if he was alive would have loved it.

To gain a sense of style, imagine (for those of you who have been to Singapore) the beautiful old style colonial buildings with the old style plantation shutter doors, only in our case all our cupboards have louvred doors. Imagine, while you are at it, a Singapore Sling in your hand, but instead of sipping it in Raffles (The Long Bar or the Court Yard), you are lounging in our saloon or chilling in our cockpit… Equally as glorious.

This post has inspired me to enjoy a Singapore Sling this evening. Martin went to make breakfast this morning and found the required spirits bottles already on the bench in anticipation 😉

Are you getting the laid-back lazy Sunday afternoon feeling? I am…  

Back to personalising our interior. We have limited options in terms of artwork. This is limited by the fact that almost every space that is a wall is actually a cupboard. The result is we only have space for two smaller art pieces. More on that in a separate post.

We want to install weather covers at the aft end of the boat. Traditionally, they are in basic block colours and made from a heavy-duty canvas. We are considering an alternate to the standard block colour, just to personalise it a little. The pattern we are considering is the sample in the photo. It is still the nautical blue and white however, the pattern will complement the side safety netting and I love the fact that the pattern (kind of watercolour-ish) is not perfect. This may match our safety-netting installation skills. Time will tell. Today, is critical non-essential research day, followed by a Singapore Sling at sunset. A perfect Tess and Martin day.

And finally, on a more serious note… 

Wear sunscreen.

Both Martin and I have fair skin. My grandmother had more then we can count skin cancers removed. They were located on her calves, the back of her right forearm and the underside of her left forearm. These locations are from sun exposure while picking strawberries on the family farm. I can see her bent over holding the basket in her left hand and picking strawberries in her right hand, just like she has bent over in her own garden for many years. Based on family history, I go in for skin test every 6 months and regularl have suspect spots removed prior to them turning nasty.

This week saw Martin get a call to come in immediately to have a skin cancer removed from the back of his hand. We find out on Tuesday if they have it all.

So my friends… how long has it been since you had your skin checked? As Baz Luhrmann says, “wear sunscreen”.

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In Sailing

Moving aboard preparation & the bliss of the mundane.

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Friday 17 April was the day we should have handed over the keys to our rental and be fully in escape mode onboard Saboteur. You may recall we pushed back this date by two months as we need a new motor.

The good news is our motor arrives this week.
Happy dance.

It may seem that while we are waiting, we are running out of things to do… Well, that is not 100% true… There is always moving aboard preparation tasks to be done. However, finding things that can be done fairly quickly and not either get in the road of or be hindered by the other work that is happening on the boat is the challenge. 

Priority moving aboard preparation task is installing safety netting
Hope our netting looks this good!

There is still a lot of work that must be done prior to moving on board. If you recall the two dogs and the cat are joining us. To that end we need to install safety-line netting. That’s for the dogs (and some humans). The cat will ignore it. Safety-line netting runs along the boat, from the deck up to the first safety-line for approximately 40cms and in theory catches little animals before they slide over the edge as well as beach towels, hatch covers and the like. And maybe the odd human. The investment of $210 and a few hours to install it will pay for itself in the long run. Not to mention the hours of entertainment for our neighbours as Martin and I work out how to install it. 

As we have never had to install safety-line netting before,
the fastest way to learn about it is Google.

A couple of weeks ago armed with our research, we visited our local chandler Muir Marine to find out what is the best product to buy. It is one of those things we can easily order on-line but have no idea if we are getting the right product, quality etc. Plus, I love supporting the local businesses. The three chandlers we frequent are staffed by people with a passion for the water and usually with many years of experience on the water and their vessels of choice. I could lose myself in there for hours just wandering, tinkering and listening to people’s stories. However, we are always keen to pick up what we came for and get back to Saboteur and get on with it.

We received a call to inform us that the netting the we have ordered had arrived. Awesome, we picked it up and headed to the boat to set about installing it. We get there and decide that we need to clean the safety lines. A task that has taken considerably more time than it should. Notwithstanding, at the halfway point I decide I want to scrub the deck. As you do…

Moving aboard preparation task of cleaning the decks after messy tradesman
Before / After

I grab our deck broom which has reasonably stiff bristles and start scrubbing with the hose and boat wash. It is an improvement but not brilliant. Martin, jumping in to join me plies the deck with more water and boat wash. We were about to grab a stiffer scrubbing brush (an old fashion hands and knees scrub) when at the same time our neighbour pipes up and offers us the use his gurney.

Woohoo!!! The result, as you can see is amazing… 

Our moving aboard preparation has constant interruptions.

None more delightful and insistent then Moo (the dog)
telling me that he really needs to go to the toilet…

Naturally, halfway through a job. Martin grabs their leads and takes them for the almost 1km sprint to their favourite grassy knoll. It needs to be a sprint. Simple because we don’t want Moo weeing on anyone’s mooring lines. 

Relaxing after doing all our moving aboard preparation
Sunset

I noticed he had forgotten his key. I follow him barefoot. If you recall I am only learning to walk in thongs (flats, jandals, flip flops) and to walk fast in thongs would be a guaranteed disaster. My right foot is learning much faster than my left… Ha, ha…

I find Martin already on his way back. Others were coming and going through the gate so there was no real wait. As we wander back to the boat, the sun was getting low on the horizon and we turned our attention to dinner. The safety-lines, deck and of course the netting will wait for another day. 

Another moving aboard preparation task killing mould
Mould killing Gas Bomb

Additionally, our neighbour is going to set off some commercial mould killing gas bombs on our boat before we leave. While the boat is open, including some ceiling panels now was never a better time to do so.  We will report on this product. It should remove all mould from all nooks and crannies that would otherwise be impossible to reach. Other boaties may want to know about this.

Meanwhile back at home, we are still on a deadline to move out. We still have so much moving aboard preparation to do before we can move on. And we have had to rethink what we are doing with our remaining possessions. COVID19 has put an end to our garage sales and selling things on Market Place. Much of it is too good to go to the tip.

Furthermore, we have decided to stick around South East Queensland (and work) until later next year. A little extra cash won’t go astray. And so, we are going to take a different berth. One with a storage shed. This will help with each tools and working space to finish our moving aboard preparation tasks. We can also set up my painting easel, some gym gear, a fridge and a table and chairs. We can now take our time to sell/rehome our remaining possessions.

And with that decision our move becomes much easier. I feel like I can relax a little more and enjoy the beauty and pleasure of everyday mundane things.

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In Sailing

Some kind of bliss

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Some kind of bliss… You may have noticed we have been remarkably quiet about the boat and our move.

And it is not because of Martin’s recent escapades with life and death that had nothing to do with two wheels and a crazy amount of horsepower of the back wheel. What is a crazy amount you ask? His last bike produced 200 rear wheel horse power.  

We have experienced delays on two fronts. Delays:

  • With the rigging and the installation of new in-furling main sail.
  • We now need a new motor.

What the??? Yes, we need a new motor. 

Through no fault of our own and an un-intentional error made by a third party a syphon break was bypassed that allowed sea water into the motor. This was not realised until it was too late to rectify. We will not be making any comments about how this came about. So please don’t ask.

We are choosing to look at the positives and now we have a new motor on its way. For the gear heads out there it is. Yanmar 55 horsepower, naturally aspirated.

Not where you want to see your motor

So, we had to have the boat towed to a dock, motor pulled apart, craned out and the boat towed back to the finger. And I have missed the fun of whole event of being towed, cranes etc and writing about it because my gorgeous clients are keeping me super busy. 

So now, we don’t have a sink or an engine in the boat. Why? What’s happened to the sink? Basically, nothing… simply the engine room is under the sink. 

And now we do have a big open space where the engine was.

We have undertaken the task of clearing out thirty years of engine grease and gunge and in doing so we found 1 screwdriver, three spanners, numerous, screws bolts, washers and the odd tie-tights.

Glamourous – not
Armed with degreaser

It was literally, gloves on, head down and bum up and I bucketed two x 2.3 litres of gunk. Martin helped out when he had finished installing the new dunny. Glamourous I know. Then, we physically wiped every surface we could reach down with rags to pick up the layers of engine grease before releasing three cans of degreaser across the area. This was followed with the hose down. To do this we needed to feed the hose through the cockpit, into the galley and into the cavity that is the engine room. And hose it out. 

It now looks amazing. Surfaces that were black are now whiteish. We were able to lift a platform the genset sat on and another shelf that provides access to one of the bulge pumps. We bought both of them home. Martin made a new platform for the genset and painted the shelf. 

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A genset is combination of a diesel generator and an engine mounted together to form a single piece of kit. It is used to create energy to run our various power appliances (washing machine, microwave, water maker kettle, lights, power cords for all our important devices i.e. laptops and phones) on the boat. This is used when we are not connected to shore power.

Another FYI…

When on the marina, each vessel has a utilities pole that they can plug into for power. Most marinas have two separate fees, one if you are liveaboard and thus using more power, and the other is if you are keeping the boat on the marina and/or occasionally staying overnight. Some marinas have a more sophisticated set up and each power pole is metered.
—

You can see with the combination of events we could not move on to the boat without a toilet, engine or sink. 

This weekend was meant to be our move date and we were to be out of the house by the 17th.
One week today.

When I posted sharing the adventures of our garage sale our count down was four weeks…
Our countdown looked like this.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3.5 weeks

Then we had the “What the??? We need a new motor” moment. The rest is unprintable.
Countdown reset number 1 saw it became 8, 7, 6….. 

Reality check, can it all be done in 8 weeks?
Countdown reset number 2 (just in case) 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4 ,3, 2, 1. 

Now our exit date is the 19 June. Just to be clear that is 2020. 
10 weeks and counting.

And so, the above has led to this moment right here right now. Me sitting in a quiet favourite spot, Martin whipping up brunch and me reflecting on how wonderful this normal everyday moment is. 

Finally finding myself in a spot that is a little less frantic is “some kind of bliss”.

A weekend full of options, writing, reading, jigsaws, maybe making the new curtains for the boat… who knows…

Options, options, options… my kind of bliss.

Before she came out
30 years of grease and gunk
Says it all really.

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