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Trapped by an anchor chain and how we broke free

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Trapped by an anchor chain! This post tells the story of the trials and tribulations of preparing and securing our boat Saboteur in order to have a worry-free visit to see Martin Lloyd in the Philippines.

—

Freddie Mercury singing, ‘I want to break free’ is ringing in my head.

I was attempting to leave the Brisbane River to berth Saboteur securely at East Coast Marina in Manly while I visited Marty in the Philippines. I did not want to worry about Saboteur being left on anchor while I was away.

Let me step you back a little. I had had a restless sleep. I was overflowing with a mix of emotions. Excitement and anticipation as it was one more sleep before I would be winging my way to Marty. It had been two months. I was also a tad nervous, as it was going to be the first time I docked Saboteur myself. Normally Martin docks and I take us off the doc when we leave. It is just a habit we got into.

I was probably a tad overwhelmed as well. I had so many projects on the go and the boat looked like a bombshell had hit it. Not how I normally like it. I am a touch boat proud.

My partner in crime for the trip was Phil, a friend we meet while at Dockside Marina. He and his wife had owned a Tayana 54. They have sailed it around the world twice. I was looking forward to the trip and consider Phil a Mentor.

First things first, prior to picking him up I went through the safety checks:

  • I – Isolate (we are on anchor so it is fine)
  • F – Fuel, Aft tank full. Forward tank, 25 litres
  • W – Water
  • O – Oil
  • B – Belts
  • B – Bilge
  • L – Links
  • E – I forget… Need to look it up… Ha, ha…

I headed into North Shore Hamilton to pick Phil up at the recreational jetty. He jumped into the dinghy and we headed back.

We disembarked from the tender via the swim deck and connected it to its davits. I passed the oars and the bailer up to Phil then removed the electric motor outboard battery and placed it on the swim deck and then passed it to Phil. I had to hunt for the key to unlock the steel cable on the outboard shaft. Mental note – I should have done that earlier.

Found it… I unlocked the cable and unscrewed the clamps that secured the shaft to the transom. As I was mid-lift, Phil quietly said, ‘You really should have a safety line on that’. OMG, what was I thinking. He was dead right, and I had flashbacks of chasing my 20-litre water bottle down the river. Extra carefully, I lifted it on the swim deck and passed it up to Phil.

I then jumped back into the dinghy and connected the pully to the dinghy. Phil began to hoist the dinghy up on its davits. He informed me that the clamps were slipping a little.

Mental note: Add to the project list … replace clamps.

When it was two-thirds of the way up, the dinghy slipped out of the port davit and nosedived for the water. The river rushed into the bow of the dinghy. Next thing we heard was the sound of timber creaking and the definitive crack of when it yielded to the combined weight of the dinghy and the river current trying to pull the dinghy under.

Bloody hell. The good news is:

1. It righted itself. Woohoo! Love the Walker Bay design…

2. We had appropriately tethered the dinghy to the safety railing. Otherwise, it would have been phoning a friend to chase it down the river.

I assessed the damage to the swim board. Yep it’s broken. From my first inspection, it was too hard to work out how the damage was done. More precisely, how much work would be involved in repairing it. Secondly, we still had all the parts of the davit system. I took them off the dinghy and secured them on board (Of course, we now had to tow the dinghy, not carry it).

OK, that was a challenge we could have done without. Bah, humbug.

I started the motor and:

  • Turned on the instruments
  • Turned on the engine blower
  • Turned off the anchor light
  • Checked the anchor winch was on

We were ready. Phil headed up to the bow sprit, removed the snubber and got ready to lift the anchor chain. He did so, and every now and again the chain jumped out of the winch jockey and he had to lower it again.

Note: Another project, replace the arm pin and service the anchor winch. Great now I have two new projects….

I heard Phil say, ‘We are clear and all good.’ As he moved towards the cockpit, I put a little power on. He grabbed the boat hook and headed back to the bow. He signalled for me to stop. I did so. It was clear we were not moving forward. In actual fact, Phil said ‘We are clear and it’s not good.’

I made my way to the cockpit to see what was going on. Our anchor was clear of the water, however it was wrapped in another anchor chain. Bloody hell! We attempted to remove it without much luck. We really needed to lift the weight of our anchor to have any chance of removing the chain.

I phoned a friend. 

My neighbour Mike (Michael Hendra). He put on his life jacket and headed over in his dinghy. Phil and Mike discussed strategies. Mike positioned his dinghy under our anchor and we lowered it into his dinghy. Between twisting and rotating the anchor, with Phil on the boat hook and through Mike’s sheer strength, the anchor was freed. We attached a buoy to it so that we could avoid it next time, and maybe pull it up on our return.

With many thanks and a grateful heart, I waved good bye to Mike and shouted ‘see you in a few weeks’. We turned our attention to the voyage. We headed in the direction of the river mouth. It was a pleasant day with a slight breeze on the nose. I handed the helm over to Phil while I attended to some paperwork for my travels.

Phil seemed happy at the helm, so I sat back and enjoyed the journey. We were approaching Manly and were yet to turn into the channel when the engine coughed and spluttered and stopped. Bugger, I ran downstairs to check fuel tanks. I did not think we were that low. I had checked it after all. Luckily, we have a self-priming engine that pushes the air through on its own. And so I changed to the full aft diesel tank and we were under way again. I took the helm; my nerves were up. The weather conditions were still ‘perfect’ A very slight breeze from the South South East. It was brilliant. Remember, this was my first time docking. Phil and I spoke about which way to do it. Would we tie off bow first or stern first.

Phil suggested that we should berth bow first.

I told him that Marty and I always berth stern first, as we have the bow thruster. A bow thruster is a small propeller in the bow of the boat that assists with turning in tight circles. When docking it assists in keeping the bow of the boat against the dock. Phil informed me that they did not have a bow thruster. I got the feeling that he wanted me to dock without using the bow thruster.

We talked the approach, the speed and which way to turn the wheel. Bearing in mind that I suffer from dyslexia, and when I switch from forwards to backwards, I have been known to get confused sometimes.

The time had come. I really wanted to do this. I could have easily said to Phil ‘you take over’. But no, I held onto my nerves and I approached the finger. I could not see the finger as the sides of our boat are so high, so I ended up standing on the seat. I adjusted, a little to port and a little to starboard. It was more of a wobble zigzag, as it is easy to over-steer. The approach was now on point, I was slowing down. Was I at walking speed? … Hopefully.

Phil stepped off onto the finger to tie off the bow. As soon as he was on the finger, I turned the wheel hard to starboard and put her into reverse with a few revs. Beautiful, the stern of the boat was turning in.

I threw the stern line to Phil and he caught it. And voila – we were docked. It was not the smoothest nor the prettiest docking, and I have seen far worse. I did it, and I was chuffed.

We were docked

Phil went off to his boat to do a coat of varnish and I headed to the marina office to collect the key. We were meeting up later in the day. Phil was going to look at my generator to try and figure out why it was not working.

When he returned, we discovered that I had accidentally switched of the generator emergency kill switch. Ha, ha… I must have done it when I was checking the oil. He also noticed the fuel filter needed to be changed and the fuel housing cleaned out. Another first coming up for me to do this. It will be the subject of another post. For now, I was happy that I had docked for the first time, and that there was nothing wrong with the generator.

And now to go see my baby in Manila…

Originally published on Facebook on 10/09/22.

#sailingsaboteur #boatmaintenance #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #getoutdoors #wearsunscreen

Saboteur with the dinghy
Broken swim board
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A life less hectic

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Russell_Island_aerial_photo

Got to love a life less hectic, an extra long weekend and heading for the bay for Easter.

Late Thursday morning we departed the Coomera River around 11am, refuelled at Sanctuary Cove, as doing so, congratulated ourselves as diesel was 20 cents a litre cheaper than Gold Coast City Marina. As we came into the fuel dock the wind picked up to 20 knots, of course it did. Tess and Martin Lloyd team ‘TandM’ docked perfectly again congratulating ourselves. Why not..? We were provisioned for the long weekend. All that remained was refuelling. Diesel for Saboteur, unleaded petrol for the donk on the dinghy and water for us.

We reversed out of the fuel dock with plenty of room behind and each side of us. This gave us the wonderful opportunity to let the boat, current and wind decide which way it wanted to turn. Once natures energy revealed her hand Marty adjusted the wheel, completed the turn, put Saboteur into forward gear and continued down the river to the main passage.

We turn north into the main passage. For once, the wind was coming from the south and was favourable for a sail. It has been our experience when we want to go anywhere (slight exaggeration) the wind has not assisted us (The south end of Moreton Bay is full of narrow passages avoiding shallows and sand traps, so sailing room is not easily found).

I head below to secure loose items, something we should have done before departing. Meanwhile Marty single handily set up the staysail to make use of a following breeze, and we motor sailed up the main passage. Later he brought in the sail between a narrow point in the passage as we were on low tide and we did not want gusts of wind pushing us on to sand banks.

We enjoyed the combination of motor sailing and navigating the challenges of Morten Bay on low tide. Both just grateful to be out and travelling again.

With a deep sense of happiness we dropped anchor in one of our favourite spots.

We were back at Russell Island. Our plans were to spend two days there and then two days heading back to the Brisbane River. We need to be there as I am working on a boat at River Gate Marina for a couple of weeks.

It had been cool and windy and we were grateful to be back in a sheltered spot. I was feeling the cold, winter is coming. (Ha, ha it was below 30 and above 20 degrees Celsius). We had a nip of cognac to assist our bodies to warm up, followed by dinner and watched music concerts on You Tube until our eyelids became too heavy and we went to bed.

About 4.30 am Zac woke me to come and sit in the cockpit with him.

He was really excited and insistent. I got up and went with him to the cockpit. There were a school of fish having fun near the boat. He wanted me to sit with him and watch. Perhaps he wanted me to throw a line in which I briefly considered. I was happy to sit in the moment with Zac sitting next to me contently purring away. I had plugged in my iPhone to charge overnight but forgot to turn on the power, so what would have been a lovely chilltime video remained just Zac and my moment. As I describe it to Marty in the morning, it was a Winnie the Pooh moment in my mind.

Good Friday was peaceful. Marty baked me a gluten free hot cross bun inspired loaf.

We had steaming slices of homemade bun with lashes of melted butter and strawberry jam.

It was so good. Marty read, I sewed (still working on the cushions and winch covers). Did some hand sewing as well and played ‘Patience’ the card game. It was such a lovely lazy day.

With the passing of the day, our normally quiet anchorage started to become crowded. It was a great spot for protection from the Southerly winds. Rarely is there more than one or two other boats here. By evening time, I counted 24. That’s OK. I am happy to share.

The boat next to us was True Blue V. The last few days they had been anchored about the same distance from us in the Coomera River. Craig and Leanne invited us over for a coffee. We learnt they bought their boat in California and had sailed it home. They are my kind of sailors. They had a loose plan and would turn up at a place and if they liked it, they would stay. This is how they ended up spending a year in Mexico and several years sailing around Fiji.

We were on our way to Lindsay Hick.

Marty would be making us DimSim soup for lunch. We learnt that Craig and Leanne knew Lindsey, so we invited them to join us for lunch. Like typical sailors they went with the flow and said yes. We all piled into our 10ft dinghy and headed to shore. It was approximately a 20-minute motor. Lindsey was waiting for us at the boat ramp and he and Marty hauled our dinghy out of the water on to the ready trailer. We laughed and hugged. Big hugs of good friends accompanied with exclamations that we could see Lindsey’s face. He had trimmed his beard off. We piled into his Pajero and headed off to his place.

Lindsey’s house is quirky, unique and I love it.

He is a house builder and a ship wright and built it himself. We walked around the yard stopping to smell fruit, flowers, herbs and admire how much the garden had grown in the last few months. The new shed, retaining walls and other projects were amazing. We then headed inside, again admiring the progress, the house is close to finished. Marty set up in the galley and started making lunch. We all talked, laughed, ate and shared stories for hours.

Eventually we had to leave. Lindsey ladened us with home grown produce. We said our goodbyes accompanied with more hugs and good wishes. Reluctantly we left. It was the turning of the tide and slack water which means we would have less resistance from the current. This was of great importance to us with four adults in our small dinghy (2.5 hp donk) and heading into strong southerly winds.

There were a few takeaways from the day…

… sailing tips, destination tips, learnings and many more. Of great interest to me, Craig had almost finished doing up all the brightwork on True Blue. Brightwork is the yachting term for the timber interior. It was stunning. It was as good as new. They told us it had become damaged and neglected after 20 years since built and 6 years of their living aboard.

Craig did it himself. I asked a million questions and hopefully have taken on board his advice as I intend to do the floors on Saboteur while Marty is away in the Philippines. I hope it comes up as well as True Blue’s floors.

Saturday evening was quiet. Dinner was bits and pieces, predominantly cheese and biscuits. We took time to rough out our travels for the next two days checking tides, winds, time frames and checking once again. We were clear, we were leaving at 9am to make the most of high tide.

I took us off the anchor at Russell Island. I need the practice.

As we headed back past Millionaires Row, Marty’s phone rang. A friend, Daniel Cooke was camping on Straddie, saw us pass by and he was waving from the shoreline. We waved back and continued on our way enjoying a relaxing passage up to South of Macleay Island we dropped anchor mid-afternoon. We both had a nap. I finished installing a cat flap on the companion way. Zac can now come and go inside or out as much as he wants. I am sure he will still wake me to come and sit with him to watch the fish.

We had a lazy dinner of bangers and mash and an early night. I lifted anchored at Macleay and turned the boat to head north. As we turned the corner a dugong popped up, rolled over as if to wave us goodbye. We were on a familiar route.

Our thoughts turned to other things. We had plans for when we drop anchor near the Gateway Bridge starting with a trip to shore, a cuppa with Bill, collecting our mail of him before he delivers Marty to the train station, so he can go back to the Gold Coast and pick up his motorbike.

We are gradually learning to embrace a life less hectic. A lazy two day voyage by yacht is a 1 hour ride by motor bike.

It is truly a life less hectic.

Originally published on Facebook on April 18, ’22

Russell Island is a favourite location. I often write when I am under her spell. Check out my peak hour post from Lindsey’s place.

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My search for happiness

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1957 Century Corondo Chamberlain

My search for happiness in a world of uncertainty.

Being stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for borders to open and an appropriate weather window to present itself so that we can commence our voyage to NZ, has been frustrating.

We (Martin Lloyd and I) were both ready for a change, or so we thought. However, not only is our journey a physical journey of exploring the world by yacht, it has also been a mental challenge.

We were stuck in our lives.

Even though moving on to Saboteur our routines had changed considerably, we easily fell into new habits fed by our self-image and our expectations of what our life would be like.

I am not talking about wearing designer deck shoes, and matching outfits (which personally I hate) and cocktails at sunset, although the latter is very nice thank you very much. I am talking about the practical; the very practical things along the lines of what are we doing for money. For me, what was I going to do when I stepped away from my locally based clients? These questions become more complex when we add the questions of what gives us meaning, and what makes us happy? My search for happiness began. It was imperative as we both needed to make this journey work.

Like many people I struggled in 2021.

I struggled finding my way through the now well established COVID era. Even though Queensland hardly saw lock down its impacts saw my clients hesitated to commit to work. I pushed on. Despite appearances everything was stressful. I could not let go of that feeling. I was becoming obsessive. Trying to do everything. I had no off switch. I looked in the mirror and I could not recognise myself. My jaw was clamped. I had started grinding my teeth, something I have never done previously. I had promised Marty, I would see the doc.

My doctor gave me an extensive questionnaire to work through to assess stress, anxiety and depression. My stress levels were off the radar.

I started on medication. I thought I would be last person on the planet to go on medication. It gradually started taking the edge off things. Little by little I could feel the stress’s hold on me loosening. It was going to be a journey. I still had to have income.

My head was stuck in my consulting world. Eventually, I came up with a new delivery model. A blended training model that combined two weeks of on-line lessons in a private Facebook group, a couple of Q&A sessions, and hot-seats, finishing the training with individual coaching sessions. I started delivering my ‘Lost for Words Basecamp’, for those moments when words fail you.

Finally, I had a model I loved and my clients loved. It will work for us as we go sailing, and is now my focus. My friend Litsa Barberoglou suggested that the ‘Lost for Words Basecamp’ should be the only thing I focus on, plus any coaching / consulting work which comes from that. She said it should be my thing, and she is right. I was so alive during the basecamp. I love watching my online clients transition from being lost for words to finding their voice and seeing the transformation in their lives. Personally, I was still obsessive. I could not switch off. Still not relaxing. Still worried about income and what the future looks like. My search for happiness continued.

In my wandering and researching state I became distracted by a training course on how to a make a heavy duty waterproof bag. It was a chance to use my hands and switch off my head. I signed up, shot the details to a girlfriend who also signed up. We arrived on the first day and as we walked into the lab, I was grinning from ear to ear. I said to Zoe Black, this is like going back to university for me. My undergrad was in Industrial design, and each year we had our own common room and lab where we would work on our projects. Perhaps, I appreciated a dedicated workspace even more now that we live on our yacht. So just maybe there was a little happy dance because of a sense of space.

It was like I was transported back to my student days, plus hanging out with one of my favourite people.

The first lesson, we did training on the sewing machine, setting tensions, stitch size, thread and practiced sewing thick material. I bent a needle. Something I have never done before. I bought home the vinyl I was practising on and it now sits under Zac’s water bowl. We also cut out our pattern. I wish I had bought it home as sadly, the lab flooded the next day. The lesson renewed my energy to get back in finishing my cockpit cushions (redesigned them as well) and started on the winch covers.

I still had the worry about income.

Marty came home one day and told me a company he has been helping out were struggling. They were 6 weeks behind in orders, and not packing boxes fast enough. He said he would ask if I could help them for a couple of days. And so I went in and helped them, wait for it, to assemble and pack Licence plate holders. Yeh, that’s right. The amazing thing was it was relaxing, I could switch off and as I was assembling them and stacking them, I would make crosses that I was calling kisses, and I was sending these kisses across the universe to those who needed them. So many of my close friends are struggling at the moment. I was surprisingly happy in my switched off zone sending love across the universe.

Meanwhile, we moved the boat to the Gold Coast to get some work done and I continued the couple of days a week. It was with great satisfaction we caught up on the back log. I had told the owner that they needed to be recruiting. It was the circuit break that I needed to switch my head off for a while. I was still happy to help out for a little longer, I was not intending to stay.

I was now running my third basecamp and loving it and managing to queeze the on-line sessions before heading into work.

The weather window for the trip to NZ is still not looking promising.

I needed to do something else. But what?

I recall our favourite shipwright, Shannan Batey of The Boat Builder, saying he had more work than what he could handle, and was turning work away. I have long admired his workmanship and how he is teaching his apprentices. So, I took a deep breath and phoned him up, and casually asked if he needed a hand. Even as I was speaking casually, I was surprised of how aware I was of really wanting this. For some of you this may seem a little odd. Perhaps you may not know I spent my first 10 working years on the tools. I am a jeweller by trade. Many of these skills are transferrable. He asked me a few questions, in particular what type of work do I want to do.

I said I don’t care, anything including the dirty work.

He told me he would start me grinding anti-foul off the bottom of a medium size steel hull thingy with 2 x 250hp outboards on the back. Talk about a baptism of fire. This is a very dirty job. Anti-foul is a poisonous substance that is painted on the underside of boats to prevent barnacles and growth from calling your boat their home. I was guessing the next job I was to do would be to replace the anti-foul which is even more disgusting. I didn’t care. They are skills that are useful to me.

That was a Friday, and I was to start the next Thursday as I was doing a mediation on Monday and assembling number plates holders on Tuesday and Wednesday. I had a silly grin on my face in anticipation all week.

When I arrived, the shipwright was not there and Kurt (the lead and a damn fine tradesman) gave me my task.

I was taken to a gorgeous 1957 Century Coronado Chamberlain.

A classic wooden boat designed for water sport and skiing. It has seriously gorgeous retro styling. It was the era of Elvis Presley and 1957 Number 1 with ‘All Shook Up’. Think the Thunderbirds (the TV show and the car (refer photo)) and the classic lines of the Chev’s and the Cadillacs from the era. The boat was complete with the chrome trim flares. She was beautiful.

The timber needed restoring, along with some of the paint work.

And so, I have spent the next three days working on this gorgeous boat. Thursday I was on my own with Kurt checking in on me. Friday, I had Jo the apprentice with me and Saturday morning I was on my own. I have been so, so happy. I have the skills however not the knowledge of the industry. Being shown what is required and provided with instruction on materials etc. and then being left to work on it has been magic. The shipwright when he turned up on Friday looked at my work, pointed out a few things I missed and said, he can see I will be doing their detail work. I have loved this work.

I have felt my grandfather with me. He was a chippy and a builder and died when I was 17. He taught me to use a saw, to sharpen chisels and how to drink whiskey neat.

I have had some funny moments.

I was using a disc sander to cut back the stern deck. This is gorgeous timber panels with contrasting colours. It was water damaged and bowed. I needed to sand it back in four places to remove the bow and restore the original curve. I was in the boat with the sander, face mask on and sanding away with the 80 grit. Every now and again, I took my finger off the trigger to stop it, so I could observe my work, check the line, the curve and the shape. On about the third or fourth time, it would not turn off. I shouted out to Shannan the shipwright with my mask on.

Me: ‘Turn off the power.’

Shannan: ‘I can’t hear you.’

Me: ‘Turn off the power.’

Shannan: ‘I can’t hear you.’

I am holding the spinning grinder, I raised it and shouted ‘POWER’.

Shannan disconnects the power cord.

He showed me the button I was holding down that keeps it going, while I was also trying to turn it off. Ha, ha. This happened a few times.

The first day I went in to work, I was nervous.

Will I be too slow, will I be too detailed? These fears are less of a concern now. I was also excited.

On Friday over a beer, I asked Shannon if he minded if I kept a logbook of what I do and if he would sign it off for me, as I might be able to pick up work at different marinas. He was more than happy to. He also suggested I go for recognised prior learning, and go for my Shipwright Certificate. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.

He is already talking about detailing work on another boats. He also talked about letting me loose on a prawn trawler that has been converted to a home. She is based in the Brisbane river, right next to our old anchor spot. I could either take the dinghy or kayak to work.

Four weeks in and I am feeling incredibly happy and personally satisfied.

I have a balance between using my head and my hands. This has been a struggle all my life. I have a plan for the next few months and the consistency in the cash flow is welcome. For the first time in about 18 months, I truly feel the stress passing me by, and my energy connecting with the universe. I am incredibly happy.

While I wrote most of this post at the end of the first week on being on the tools, I have hesitated to post it. Will I fall out of love of being on the tools or my basecamp model or coaching work? Will the balance continue to make me happy? Time has that answer. We have made some decisions that have helped me focus.

Our goal now is to work until September and then go sailing for the following 6 months. We will work on repeating this pattern. I will continue my basecamps and coaching while sailing. Finding this path and balance feels similar to starting my jewellery apprenticeship (all those years ago) and my first day of university when I started studying Industrial Design. (Again, all the years ago). There is an excitement in me, a joy and the love of life is flowing back.

My new right of passage.

Originally published on Facebook on April 10, ’22

A note on the photos.

The photo feature photo is another boat that has been restored and will give you an idea of what this boat will look like when it is finished.

Various photos of progression of the timber restoration on a hand built time ski boat.

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A small splash for me

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Boat Works our home for a few days

All morning I had been stepping from the boat to the marina (The Boat Works) finger and back again. The first time yesterday morning, the tide was pushing Saboteur away from the finger and the gap between the boat and the finger was significant enough for me to go to the stern of the boat and pull in the stern line and return back to the belly of the boat, plonk my bum on the toe-rail, stretch my legs out and half slide half step down to the finger. On completing this manoeuvre, the boat gently slides back to where it was.

I shortened the stern line from the finger to make it easier to get back onboard when Zac and I returned.

Zac had already elegantly jumped off and was waiting for me to take him for a walk. He looked at me, as if to say, ‘what’s taking so long mum?’

We had a lovely walk and on my return, I decided to clean the water line.

Two months in the Brisbane River was evident with a slimy green line of growth which has called Saboteur home, along with a few crustaceans that have also settled in. I grabbed the long handled scrubbing brush. I sat on the edge of the finger and started scrubbing. It was satisfying to be using my muscles and felt good.

It was also satisfying to see the white strip reappear as I scrubbed away. Damn it look good.

Now, above the water line looked dirty. I grabbed magic eraser and a Chux. I used the magic eraser under the toe rail and wiped it down with the Chux. And used the scrubbing brush for between the top edge and the waterline.

I would occasionally lean back, look and be pleased with myself.

It was time to show off my handy work to Marty and went back on board and asked him to join me on the finger. I went up the companion-way before him. The gap between the finger and the boat had increased. I plonked my bum on the toe rail once again and stretched for the finger. As I was transferring my weight, the wake of a boat lifted us and my toes hooked on to the springer line (the springer line is a rope that if set up properly, prevents the boat moving too far backwards and forwards). With my toes between the rope and my body weight transferring I pivoted, ending up with my right leg knee length in the drink and my left knee into the concrete which then my leg folded underneath me.

I ended up plonked on the concrete with one leg in the water.

Marty stepped over the cockpit to find me sitting on the concrete hugging my right shin in the hope that my toes would stop hurting. My toes were too sore to touch.

You have to laugh.

Timing sucked for Marty who was already busting to go to the loo (seriously busting) and torn between staying helping me or going to the much needed loo. I sent him off to the loo and I quietly sat assessing my injuries. I am grateful the finger had a beautiful clean fender and sides. Unlike many that are encrusted with algae growth and rough, sharp crustaceans that would have seen me heading to the docs for antibiotics.

My toes hurt and I am a little bruised. My ego is miffed. I still think of myself as in my mid-twenties, still capable of everything I could do then. It is funny how our self-image dances with our reality. I have always believed I am tall. I grew up the shortest in a tall family which lead me to believe (and still do) I am 6ft 7. Just ask me. And with that, able to do incredible feats. I’m continually amazed when I can’t, when I’m limited by my height. I am good at climbing and stretching, and finding ways to reach things. It is part of the challenge.

Yesterday morning’s adventure was an easy leap for Zac, a wee step for Marty and a small splash for me. Hopefully a good laugh for you.

And after a nights sleep and still not able to put weight on my foot I was thinking a visit to the Doc for an xray might be on the cards. However, I strapped my two toes together and I can walk again. Albeit carefully.

It parallels the challenges of our adventure. Some of it is easy for Marty, and a challenge for me. Some of it is easy for me and a challenge for Marty. We find ways to do things. Above all else, we are determined to accomplish our adventure while we still can.

And Zac, he just takes it all in his stride as long as we don’t splash him.

#sailingsaboteur #whatareyouwaitingfor #Liveyourlife #getoutdoors

Note: the arrow in the photo is the berth we were on.

Originally published on Facebook February 23, 2022

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Love that old time feeling

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Rainbow

Love that old time feeling of the nod of a head or a friendly wave.

I reckon over the last two days we nodded or waved about 100 times or more as we transited from our base in the Brisbane River to the Coomera River on the Goldie.

With each wave I can’t help to grin.

It reminds me of yesteryear, of my childhood growing up in a country town. In the early years, many of the backroads between towns were single lane with both cars pulling onto the rubble in order to pass. In some cases, one car needed to give way and pull off the road completely for the other car to get past. We did not need give way signs then. We just kind of worked it out. With it was the mandatory nod, or wave or the more subtle raising of the index and middle finger. To be clear, not a rude gesture, a polite gesture that says thanks and no worries.

The same is true on the water.

We left about 9 Saturday morning and topped up the diesel at Rivergate, just past the Gateway Bridge. I still get nervous before we dock, however we have been doing a pretty good job of docking lately. Marty and I have a good system going now.

We were just about to fuel up and a catamaran was coming into dock. I caught their bow line and Marty their stern with many thanks. It is what a lot of people have done for us. We talked for a bit and we went back to our refuelling.

Saturday was a good trip despite winds on the nose, predominantly in the 15 – 20 knots range with gusts up to 22knots. It was slow going. We anchored overnight at Potts Point, Macleay Island. We saw very few boats and a couple of crazily skilled and cool windsurfers on a blade. Total respect for their talent and skills.

The few boats we saw on Saturday are the more serious sailors, the scheduled ferries and the dedicated fisherman. The few boats we passed all knew the rules of the water and how to pass. There appeared to be no recreational boaties.

On Sunday it was a totally different story. To start with, the winds were predominately 10-15 knots (still on the nose) with gusts up 20 knots.

There were lots and lots of cruisers, sailing boats, fishermen and jet skiers. The water ways were busy. Busier than we have seen in a long time. Maybe not Boxing Day busy, but getting close.

The channel markers guiding us through the shallows

We left Potts Point at 5.15am more or less on low tide, and chased low tide for a couple of hours until it got ahead of us. On the first stages of our journey, we went through the shallows right on low tide with sand banks each side.

After leaving low tide behind us, and with the sun slightly higher in the sky, more boats were on the water. At first the serious fishing boats. Almost all of them get out of our way with a friendly wave and of course, we wave back, giving me a top up on that old time feeling. Then we started to see the cruisers and more fishing boats, many taking friends and their families out. Some with kids in life jackets, some without. My heart skips a beat when I see a kid out of the cockpit without a life jacket on.

Notwithstanding, pretty much everyone waves. They are out enjoying the ‘Great South East’ and I love it. I point to names on boats, we comment on the trim on cruisers. And we both refrained from swearing when a jet-ski stopped dead in front of us while he decided which way to go left or right. Even though we were only doing 6 knots, we are 20 tonnes and take a lot of stopping.

As our day continued, Marty and I took turns at the helm. We don’t have a formal roaster we swap when we felt like it. We continued to wave, nod and grin. Sometimes I think I was just grinning because life is good. On the water and navigating between the islands is beautiful.

At around 11.30am we turned to start our journey up the Coomera river . It is familiar, comfortable and busy. It is great to see people enjoying the water.

I love this area. It is well set up for boat life. We spent our first 4 months aboard living in this spot. I have so many happy memories here.

We turned the final bend in the river and once again docked, this time at The Boat Works Marina. A friendly neighbour appeared out of nowhere to catch a line and help us tie up.

Off course another smile, and thank you.

I love that old time feeling. It leaves a warm feeling inside.

Originally published on Facebook February 22, 2022

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Christmas anchoring adventures. 25 December 2021.

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For our Christmas anchoring adventures, It was 10.30ish when the storm had passed. The air was heavy with damp. It was humid from the summer storm. At the same time, it was pleasant as there was enough breeze to take the edge off the humidity.

It had been a long lunch. A long Christmas lunch that had rolled into the afternoon and then evening. Great company (Bill Fuller and David John Dabrowski), great food (thank you Bill) and conversation. Until we were slowing into a food coma, sprawled out across Bill’s lounge fighting for control of the remote as we listen to rock videos. Starting with Feliz Nadidad.

We arrived back to the boat ramp full, content and ready for bed. We put the dogs in their life jackets and our Christmas loot in the dinghy and plunked our very full selves in there as well and commenced the short commute from the jetty to the yacht. As we rounded the corner of the jetty, we could see that our yacht was no longer on the outside of our neighbouring yacht, the Tardis II. Curious. As we approached, we knew they were too close together for comfort. As we closed, we could see my fishing rod was broken, snapped and sadly hanging off the stern, the first sign of the misadventure. Little did we know at that point in time more was to come.

We thought the Tardis II may have drifted. It had.

We snapped out of our indulgent haze to be wide awake. Obviously, we needed to move away from Tardis II. Marty (Martin Lloyd) starts Saboteur’s engine and I go up the front to raise the anchor. This is done with an electric winch as there is no way I would be able to lift 30m of chain and an Excel anchor weighing 32 kilos. As the anchor breaks the surface I involuntarily say ‘whoa’. Curious as it’s not an expression I really use. However, that is what came out of my mouth. Marty shouts “what did you say, you have to speak up”. I walk back to the cockpit and tell him he needs to check it out for himself. We had lifted not only our anchor but another anchor chain and yet another, both wrapped around our ours. We had two alien anchor chains hooked onto our anchor.

There was no way I would be able to lift them off. So I take over at the helm and Marty inspects the situation. He grabs the boat hook hoping to release one chain. That was never going to work. Each chain was twisted and holding the other in place. Lucky us.

Some quick thinking

If we could lift our anchor on one of the halyards and rotate the boat we might be able to slip one anchor chain off. So, I jump in the dinghy and start nudging our boat. Marty says you will need more power than that and so I give her some more power. She is turning. Marty could rotate the anchor enough and the first chain slipped back into the darkness of the water. Brilliant, one down and one to go. The second chain is draped over the anchor shank and cannot be persuaded to slip off as it keeps catching on the anchor blades.

We are assessing the situation and realise the only way to get the second chain of is to remove our anchor chain. This requires us the continue to lift our anchor on the halyard high enough that we can undo the D shackle. I raise the anchor on the halyard winch at the mast. Marty goes downstairs to grab the tool to undo the D Shackle. We have another problem. The nudging the boat to turn… well she was still turning. The first turn we both ignore thinking that she would slow down and while she was close Tardis II, she was not going to hit. But on the second turn I am on the boat hook having to push our stern of Tardis’s bow. Meanwhile Marty is still downstairs.

We are still turning, and drifting.

With the drift we are getting closer again. The next turn I and have to push from about 2 meters from our stern. I know the next turn I would not be able to stop the collision. I throw fenders over the side (love our set up for the fenders, super easy and quick).

Then I jumped on the helm and took her out of neutral into reverse. I give it a squirt or two to move slightly away from our nemesis. Remember we are still hooked to an anchor chain. Which now has at least three more twists in it.

Marty appears in the cockpit once again. I put the boat back into neutral and join him. The extra twist in the chains is not helpful. Marty manages to undo the pin in the D Shackle however the extra weight on the chain was making it very hard to remove the pin. Somehow together we managed to pull the pin out, releasing our anchor from the entangled chain. I am back on the winch and lift our anchor higher so that we can now swing it over the safety line and lower it onto our deck. We leave it in place and head out into the main channel. By this stage it is around 12.30pm.

We had to reconnect our anchor chain to the anchor and put it back in place on the bow rollers ready to re-set. But more importantly work out where we were going to anchor. Marty says take us somewhere safe, as we need two sets of hands to manoeuvre the anchor. When we had plenty of sea room we locked the steering wheel and set about resecuring the anchor to the chain and then put it back in place.

The only decision now is where to anchor.

We did not want to be anywhere near the Tardis II. We pick our spot, closer to one of the prawning trawlers. Drop anchor. Let it grab. Damn we drifted back too far. I could not really see how much chain we had out in the dark. I grab my head torch off Marty, raise the anchor and we try again. Bingo… Got it this time. We dropped thirty meters of chain.

What a night, we make a cup of tea and sit for a bit. Until our weariness took over. Time to go to bed. We’re both covered in mud. My gorgeous silk dress… covered. I soak my dress, to wash it properly in the morning. It is time for a shower.

We were not looking forward to seeing what damage had been done to our boat.

In the morning, I get up and step over on to the swim board and have a look. The side of the hull, near the fishing rod is grazed. It will probably polish out. The anchor left a small gouge in the forward hull which probably won’t polish out.

We learn the next day from speaking to other’s here that this is a common problem. The owner of the Tardis II apparently lives on another boat in the area and is an unpleasant character. On each of his boats he puts out about 50 to 60 meters of chain. Which means his boats will drift on their chains great distances. We are not the first boat to have had our anchor chain caught up. Apparently, he does not care.

Furthermore,

We learnt that in the 2011 floods, many boats attempted to take shelter in this bend in the river. However, a few of them snapped their anchor chains here and there are a lot of chains and anchors at the bottom of the river in this bend. I am sure there is money that could be made if anyone wanted to pull them up.

With each crazy mishap and adventure, I love the feeling of overcoming the challenge. I am also becoming more impatient for our trip to NZ to start.

Love our crazy life.

Will add photos later. It is too depressing to take the photos of the damage.

Originally published on Facebook on 28/12/21.

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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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Under pressure rip-cord.

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After watching this magic sunset we were no longer under pressure

I have always thrived, and on the odd occasion coped, under pressure. I have always managed to get what needs to be done, done. The last four months have been the most intense period for many years. It has been the same for Martin Lloyd.

Que music, David Bowie singing “Under Pressure”

Zac Chillaxing, so not under pressure
Zac chillaxing

Between emptying the house and moving onto the boat, maintaining full time workload along with settling three animals onboard, it has been a little hectic. Fortunately, the animals settled almost immediately. I think it took me longer to stop observing and being concerned about them settling into to their new life than they did.

Zac seems to think the boat is the biggest cubby house ever. Moo and Nitro are just happy to be with us wherever we are.

We are into our third month on the boat and I had the opportunity with my workload to take a two-week break. I jumped on it not realising how long I had been under pressure and much I needed it. I thought I would write and get a few tasks done around the boat. Sitting on top of the “I thought I would” list was to publish a post I wrote a few weeks ago and write at least another, along with finishing installing the safety netting. Two weeks later, they are still on top of the list. In reality, I did very little.

I did do a lot of paddling, reading, sleeping and reflecting on what is important in life.

Paddling into the marina at sunset

Most mornings I went for a paddle with the dogs. Some mornings our neighbour Daniel Cooke and his dog Charlie joined us. I did a couple of sunset paddles. Martin joined me for one. It was magic.

I finished one book and started another. Both were about peoples journey. The first “By Way of the Wind” (By Jim Moore) is about a couple who had very little sailing experience, yet they sailed around the world. Martin and I have a lot to learn. The second is called “Pig” by Helen Browning, which takes us through tales of an organic farm, the relationships with their farm animals, nature and life itself. It is very interesting as they transition their farm towards alternative food sources.

I slept a lot… read, snoozed, read, repeated… I think I am starting to get the hang of this break!

Fade David Bowie.
Que Pink Floyd singing “Shine on your crazy Diamond”

I spent 2 days with my sister and collectively we said goodbye to a friend who passed away in the height of COVID. Her family planned for and hoped to be able to celebrate her life on what would have been her 57 birthday. When we heard the Queensland Government COVID changes the week before, I thought the plans would have to be put on hold again and I shed a tear. However, we learnt her wake could go ahead as it was at a venue with appropriate a COVID plan. Such relief. And so, we celebrated a life of our beautiful angel and Dancing Queen, Therese.

I spent the evening before the wake with a girlfriend and her 6-week old baby and playing with her 3 year old. Celebrating new life. Such precious times. They grow so quickly. My girlfriend ask what do I miss from living on land. My reply was simple, a cup of tea in bed. We have no bedside tables. We laughed, she does not have bedside tables either. Although I suspect two kids would prevent regular cups of tea in bed. That night, as I went to sleep I missed the gentle rocking of the boat.

I took time out just to hang with my sister and the following day we did girlie things. I raided her wardrobe trying on clothes for about 3 hours and then we both settled down and chilled.

Camp fire on the beach

To wrap up the two-week break Martin (also under pressure) escaped work and took Friday off. We slipped the lines of our berth at Gold Coast City Marina and headed north through the Boardwater up to Millionaires Row, dropped the anchor and chilled for two nights. On the second night we jumped in the dinghy for a sunset beach walk and got as far as a campfire and talked with a family who like us were enjoying a perfect sunset and a weekend sailing. It was lovely to see grandparents, parents, the two kids and their dog enjoying this life. And again the pull to head to New Zealand is getting ever stronger to be with our girls and grandchildren.

Fade Pink Floyd
Que Little River Band singing “Cool change”

If there’s one thing in my life that’s missing
It’s the time that I spend alone
Sailing on the cool and bright clear water…

#SailingSaboteur #Whatareyouwaitingfor #Liveyourlife #Getoutdoors #TandMadventures #Catsonboard #Dogsonboard #ZacAdventures #Wearsunscreen #Ilovesailing

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