MV Heroine

Winches, Paint and St Brit

2009-12-02T18:09:00.000Z

Now that the deckhouse is on, the whole boat feels like it is not far from being ready for sea, poor fools that we are, there is so much more to do, not least the painting of the outside of the hull. We have got used to the silver primer (it matches the superstructure) and so it was quite a surprise to find the white water-line in place this morning.

The picture of the hull here shows that start of the top coats of paint, starting with the water line, a difficult thing to nail at this stage because Heroine floats in about 2ft of water, instead of what the scored marks on her hull indicate which is something like 3m.

There is still some tidying up of the hull to do; where various dents and old nail holes have been filled again after the anti-foul coat, the filler shows up white, but the hull is looking much more like it should and it is such an encouragement after such a long time in the shed. The anti-foul makes Heroine look like a boat rather than just a hulk.

The skipper has decided to see what the doors might look like, so we spent a happy morning with chalk and tape sketching the shapes on.

The view of the inside of the deck-house gives us an idea of what it will be like to live and work on board, the deck is looking rather better now that the Sikaflex is in place and mostly sanded. Although the inside of the aluminium structure will be insulated and lined with some kind of wood panelling, and we have yet to add the rest of the windows.

The latest bit of kit to be hoisted on deck, is the rather handsome windlass (well, I think so) from Spencer Carter, which will pull the anchors up and down and will also enable us to use the mast for getting dinghies launched. The winch works by hydraulic power, the pipes for this will run all the length of the old fish-hold, via the captain's bathroom (gurgling and load shifting all familiar territory here) and will be connected to a pump which is mounted on the front of the Caterpillar. So, dear seaperson or armchair-mariner reader, I hear you ask, how will you lift the anchor if the main engine fails? Well, we won't be able to move the boat without the engine, but for an emergency tow we would disconnect the bitter end of the chain, connect a floating fender to it and chuck it overboard, to get it later, and there you have it. Now I have written this, the skipper looks over my shoulder and thinks he can connect the powerpack from the steering to haul the anchor, I'm in favour of cutting and running if we are in trouble, but we can argue that another day when we are stalled on a lee shore with a force 8 coming in fast. Or get a second main engine. Or just stay in harbour.

Not a very crisp photo,above, I'm afraid, but the inner black reels are the chain gypsies and the outer black reels are the warping drums. This is yet another example of how nothing at sea is as simple as on land, and furthermore, all this extra lingo, all the terminology, is the signal to a merchant selling this kind of gear to stick a zero on the end of the price. Don't turn up in a Musto jacket and Dubarry boots, but instead wear your old jacket on which the dogs have been sleeping and muddy wellies and then you'll be in a much better position to negotiate. Be sure to feign ignorance of port and starboard, call it "bogs" instead of "heads", refer casually to the "sharp end", and you might make some savings. If you phone a supplier of insulation say, and they ask what it is for, if you say it is for a boat, down the phone you will certainly hear the dry rasp of their hands being rubbed together as they anticipate making their monthly sales targets in one go.

The scaffolding shows that there is going to be some serious painting going on soon, which fills us with hope for a launch.

Shortly after this picture was taken the other trawler under conversion in Eyemouth was brought up the slip to just behind Heroine. Here is the St Britwin, a lovely oak-on-oak Danish trawler with hugely strong construction. She is destined to be a dive boat and her owners Graham and Gail have been very helpful and incredibly kind to us, not least in stopping work for a chat when we are the 100th party to walk down the harbour and stop by the boat that morning, and we are interrupting them the same as everyone else does.

Exhausts, doors and a hole in my boat

2009-11-28T15:26:00.448Z

The boys have got on with the engine room connections now that the deckhouse is on, and we can see a little bit more how things are going to shape up indoors.

Here is a bit of the skipper standing next to the Caterpiller (main engine) exhaust pipe (left) all primed in red and the exhaust and silencer (right) for the generator. As you can see, the Caterpillar's exhaust is a fair size and both these exhausts will be in a steel, fire-proof conduit taking them, and the surronding air up and out of the back of the bridge. Our reader who is, no doubt, highly intelligent and observant will have noted the skipper in shorts, this is not because Eyemouth is enjoying a warm winter but because the cook is behind with the blog. Sorry.

The steel conduit runs like an internal chimney up and out of the engine room, so that any fumes from the machinery will be blown up and out of the top of the boat. This will also help to cool the exhausts, although they will both be mightilly lagged, to keep things cool in the rest of the boat.
The right hand part of the conduit (a narrow section) will be a separate bit for running all the power and control and data cables from the engine room upwards. This will include all the helm and engine controls as well as all other essential information from the engine room - oil pressure sensor, oil temperature, spin speed, baby alarm etc. We plan to incorporate the structure into the deck-level cabin - there have been many discussions and sketches about how to get the exhaust up and out, mainly because it means sacrificing a space 3ft by 2ft from the valuable deckspace, but as compromises go, I think it will be okay. Part of it forms the corridor running to the access to the old fish hold and the rest is part of the walls of the cabin and heads.

The double doors are now installed and they are just beautiful. They are teak and were once installed in what might have been a man-o'-war, the brass plate on the inside describes their origin as a torpedo room, and not the only torpedo room but number 2, so at least two torpedo rooms with doors this size, impressive. They need some prettying up, but the sheer quality and weight is impressive. We treated the doors to a bit of bling (which since installation need polishing) photo to follow.

This is a rare picture of the marvellous Arthur (whose arms are not really that long), a master craftsman and who has been a great source of advice and inspiration, so many of the key components that have been made for Heroine have turned out so much better and faster than we could have imagined. Arthur's experience has saved a great deal of time and worry.

The side doors have been installed and while we were initially worried that the extra corridor, "athwartships", will take up deck-space, we have it from a good source that the extra ventillation makes summer in the Mediterranean bearable. I should imagine that the sunshine, blue skies, peace, quiet and cheap wine will help too.
This is the starboard door and the port one is very similar except it has a larger port-light. We were thinking about making them match, but have decided it is not noticeable, you will see for yourself when you vist. Both of these doors are teak too and are tough as anything, the construction is beautiful and we do not need to do anything more to them, finally, one part of the boat which is finished.

Half of the original number of solid oak cleats have been re-installed following paint stripping, the other two were too far gone with rot and damage, but here is the reconditioned port-side cleat re-bolted to the bulwark stringer, also in solid oak. I think we will be painting the stringer (bit at back) but keeping the cleat plain wood, but oiling it or something. It seems a shame to have so much beautiful oak around and then to cover it all in paint.

Here is JP installing the new oak cleat on the starboard side, it looks identical to the old ones (see previous photo) but without the rope marks cut into it (you can just see this cross marking in the centre of the cleat) and why shouldn't it? The same man made and here installs the new ones as made the originals, but 40 years ago, and he doesn't look old enough, does he? What's your secret JP?

There is a rather worrying chute right through the boat - this is the way the anchor-chain comes up and then enters the bosun's locker. When the winch is installed, between the hole and the tube thing, the chain will be come up through the hole and over the winch, leaving the anchor on the outside. The chain runs around a toothed pulley on the winch so it can drop through the rusty tube into the chain locker which directly below the deck here.

The skipper has a plan to get the chain clean as the anchor is winched in; the chain is likely to emerge thick with stinking mud and debris from the sea-bed in various bays, and I think that the plan requires the cook to leave the galley, put on overalls and squint into the murky spray-back as she holds the high pressure hose to rinse the chain before it is stowed, the skipper is at a safe distance operating the hydraulics. Well, the skipper's plan might get re-thought while he chews on his sandwich of burnt bacon...

Here us the general arrangement taking shape - just before the is put in place, and the foremost hatch is visible. Behind the winch will be the mast, and all of the plate will have been galvanised prior to installation, including some Sikaflex sealing to get it to stick properly to the deck in a water-tight way.

The skipper is going to hate this...

2009-08-29T18:35:00.000+01:00

Results of Todays Cowes Torquay Cowes Race

He's too modest.

Deckhouse On!

2009-08-18T15:30:00.037+01:00

The crane has come back (after removing some un-licensed building's roof in the next village, they don't mess about here) at at 9.30 we are all ready for the big lift.
First thing is to get Heroine out of the boat shed, and she seems reluctant, modest almost. The tyres on the forklift were smoking by the end but then she was in position on the slip-way.

This is a good opportunity to see her beautiful shape before the superstructure covers it.

The original shipwright from 1970, James Tarvit, says that it was important to keep watching and checking as the ribs were cut and shaped and the planking installed, he had to make sure that it was, as he says "eye-sweet". It was his skill which won us so much praise on our travels, and none more so than when we first arrived aboard her in Eyemouth, where Heroine had not been seen for nearly 40 years. The next sequence of images do all the talking...

To get from the onboard position to when the guys stood back took a good 20 minutes, adjusting the position to get the 5 1/2 tonnes of aluminium in exactly the right position.

The deckhouse looks very big to me, and it never did before, I think it is because we are so used to seeing trawlers everday now that Heroine looks unusual. Not compared to Malahide trawlers though...

http://www.classictrawlers.net/malahide/

Now the superstucture is on, Heroine is pulled back into the shed, and we get a chance to clamber around and have a look. Suddenly H looks like a proper boat, and strangely, the yard seems to be taking us a bit more seriously now we have a bridge and deckhouse...

Once the mast is on, and all the windows are installed it will look very different. At the moment the front of the superstucture is a huge blank of aluminium, and this (I am telling myself) makes it look big. Anyway, the boys from the FMA have had a word with us and they want us to scumble the wheelhouse, in the traditional manner. I am for it, the skipper is not, on account of his (yet uneducated) taste in this area.

Here are some bits of video, and I will be adding more as I get them onto the PC.

Deckhouse Going On...

2009-08-10T16:54:00.047+01:00

There has been lots going on recently and the deck is looking clearer - the aluminium plate to hold the deckhouse on has been cut and laid in position. It is only screwed into the wood at this stage and will be bolted on later, after the deckhouse has been welded onto it. The difference in the new and old deck is visible here, along with old bits of deck where oil has been spilled, which we might never get out. We are considering using linseed oil to treat the whole area, which would make it all darker and so more uniform.

The nearest converted trawler, our friend, the St. Britwin, recently had her decks oiled in this way, and I must say it did smell really lovely and look very authentic and traditional. Here is a picture of St Brit on the slip with us (she usually lies outside the Eyemouth Maritime Museum:-

http://www.trawlerphotos.co.uk/gallery/showphoto.php?photo=81033

One of the best things about having professionals working on our boat is that they do things very ... well, professionally, not only properly, but well.. professionally, and also fast. We are so lucky to have the yard on our side, they have invaluable experience, and use this to guide us through the decisions we would bungle if left to ourselves or, worse still, would never realise we needed to think about anyway, and find ourselves miles down the line re-doing all sorts of tasks. Taking advantage of expert guidance has probably saved us decades of work, not so say huge amount of money. The skipper often consults with Arthur, here seen again at his bench of legend and this is where ideas form and are made chalk before being made aluminium.

The deckhouse has been so long waiting to go on because we needed to get all the big bits of machinery down the hatches, the great sheets of steel for the water-tight bulkheads, etc. One of the prettiest things to happen is the new woodwork around the access to the forward accommodation; all in oak and will be the surround for a new sprial staircase. Although we have lost the view of the original carved beam with the tonnage, the new oak is very beautiful. The decking on either side is pale too, so it is difficult to tell the woods apart without a closer look. The staircase will probably have an aluminium frame and oak steps, with a rounded wall all around. If the wall is close enough to the steps it will make using the stairs feel much safer when the boat moves. In fact, the stairs up to the bridge are only about 2ft wide, and although this seems mean in a house, on a rolling boat the idea suddenly feels very snug and correct. All of the deck outside of where the wheelhouse will be has been recaulked and sikaflexed, and where the sikaflex overflows the gaps this is all tidied up when the whole of the deck is sanded. We chose Sikaflex (which is rather yachty and therefore a bit of a departure for us) instead of the traditional tar. If we were sure we would be staying in cool Northern waters we could have stayed true to the original, but tar will melt in the heat of the Mediterranean sun, and stick our bare feet to the deck. The new larch smells wonderful, compensating for the lack of a tarry scent. All the tools have now been cleared away, the sawdust swept, the crane is on the way, the sun is shining, the and today's the day...

The crane's job is to move the deckhouse from one side of the Eye Water to the other, where Heroine lies. Inbetween the start and finish position is a pontoon and a steel barge, the "Rosamund", so the structure will have to be lifted over these. The distance is not inconsiderable either, so, rather to our surprise the first task of the crane is to lift the deckhouse into the river, which is at low ebb, owing to good planning on behalf of Jim, no doubt. While as Coastal's Manager he has the power to levitate staff ("Jump!"), the tides and rivers are not under his command so the timing was important.

On the left of the crane are the offices of the company who used to own Coastal Marine when it was Eyemouth Boat Builders. Alongside the deckhouse is a lovely coble, another traditional boat owned by the Eyemouth Maritime Museum, I'd love to see her in the water and to see what she does.

Coming into view (photograph taken from the "Rosamund") is the underneath of the deckhouse and the strengthening bars underneath.

Off topic: A note on the pantiles, these are very traditional in the area, but not a local product. Because of the centuries-long trade with the low-countries this kind of roof is often seen on the East coast and is present on some listed buildings too.

Back to the main business - this is all happening fairly early in the morning on a week-day, so there is no crowd gathered.

Although we know that the deckhouse will be sitting in the river for a bit, it is still un-nerving to see our new house being put in this position.

Two of the lads from Coastal Marine taking advantage of the task of un-hooking the crane to catch the sun and enjoy a new view of the town and the river.

The crane drove away back up the road and came back down Brown's Bank to take up the new position, to fetch the deckhouse from the river and put it onboard. The man in front would traditionally be carrying a red flag, but we are a more modern town now.

This shows the "Rosamund" on the left and the deckhouse approaching.

The stern of "Heroine" is visible now behind the "Rosamund" and the deckhouse is approaching.

At this point, I was not sure where the deckhouse was going...

As soon as it was set-down behind "Heroine" I had an idea that the operation was not going to be completed now in "one".

There is a bit of discussion going on and some plan is being worked out. The crane has other bookings for the day so unless we get the deckhouse on soon we will have to let him go.

One last attempt at getting the deckhouse on, but because of the restricted space and the roof of the boat shed, the job will have to be left now until we can re-book the crane.

The skipper looking a bit disappointed on the deck. So near.

Anchors Away! (really)

2009-08-10T14:11:00.010+01:00

After our successful weathering of the storm in Red Bay in 2006, using only single anchor and a load of chain, we decided to go for the heaviest "ground-tackle" so Heroine would hold in big winds, we bought two massive 300kg anchors. They are designed to "self-cat", to fold onto a plate on the bow. There is a cunning design to create hawse pipes up which the chain would disappear and then the anchor would fold automatically in place and should not rattle. Our beautiful anchors arrived, and as you can see, compared to the Skipper's manly calves they are quite chunky chaps, and in this lies the problem. Because they are so heavy they cannot be pulled up the hawse pipes and dangle, threatening to swing to and fro and make dents in the newly smoothed hull. So, they are away, back to the anchor shop. They are to be replaced with lighter anchors, 150kg, one of which will still be twice the weight of the Fisherman style anchor we had at Red Bay, so we are still fairly well prepared.

Steering - Technical Stuff

2009-07-09T16:13:00.010+01:00

The yard have taken the rudder shaft out and had a large Woodruff key cut in it. This will keep tiller arm fixed. The tiller arm itself is new and will be attached to suit the new steering (the Woodruff key locks the tiller arm to rudder shaft).

We finally got rid of the Tenfjord which was nearly 40 years old. Although itwas actually still in reasonable order and would have been salvageable using new rubber seals and an expert overhaul by Jimmy the Cat, , the company who made the steering is now owned by Rolls Royce and apparently spare parts are very hard to get hold of. They can take months to appear after ordering, and not wishing to be stuck somewhere in the event of a breakdown (unless its Red Bay, of course) we have coughed to upgrade to a super-modern Hypromarine system using two double rams...

The deck is being caulked on the right and you can see the strings of oakum at the edge of the steering gear plate at the starn here.

On the left is the finished deck over the steering with the beautiful brass plate with its own key.

You could have controlled the old Tenfjord system (if the hydraulics were still working) by pressing screwdrivers into valves, probably with oil coming out at the same time, based on shouted instructions from the bridge, almost impractical but a comforting thought. However, what we have now will work from one of the rams only; if one ram were to fail, the other would automatically take over the job, so there is a system and a backup, and no screw-drivers or yelling involved. The third backup is a new tiller made to fit on the top of the rudder shaft itself to allow non-hydraulic assisted steering (i.e. by hand) by standing on the aft-deck, again, being shouted at from the bridge, a noisy but essential emergency plan. The new tiller is 6ft long, like a scaffold pole for extra leverage, and if we buy small VHF radios it might do away with the shouting.

The hole on the top of the rudder is still there - this is a final manual steering feature - by looping some rope through the hole to make reins the rudder can be pulled directly to give some steering when all else fails.

All the steel work supporting the steering gear down below has been needle gunned and treated so looks pretty new, and there is much shiney new equipment right at the back with a new plate covering the steering on the deck.

Heart of the Heroine

2009-07-08T17:19:00.004+01:00

Now that the main engine has been installed, along with the generator, the exhaust sytems and cooling systems are going in. The exhaust for both must go up all the way to the top of the boat, and out through the chimney, or perhaps "funnel", at the top of the wheel-house. The Caterpillar is a bit of a beast so the exhaust is pretty massive. The picture on the left shows the exhaust turning to go up through the main deck, and the other picture shows both the Caterpillar exhaust and the generator exhaust emerging from the engine room. This will all be boxed in with steel and on the right of the arrangement will be a separate steel conduit for cabling including morse cabling for throttle controls etc. No fly-by-wire for us!

Superstructure

2009-06-30T19:55:00.008+01:00

On the harbour side, the superstructure is taking up quite a bit of space, but some work has been going on; the door at the back of the bridge has been beautifully constructed in aluminium and the exhaust casing which runs right the entire way up through it has been fitted. This will take the engine exhaust up from the engine room below the water line to the funnel on the very top of the bridge.

The exhaust casing has been made in steel because aluminium is prone to melting (at about 660 Deg C). Given that the super-structure is aluminium, how will they join the two things together? Steel and aluminium cannot be readily welded together, so, how to join them? Using a bought-in strip which is an exploded-together sandwich, a physical join where the metals just melt into one another.

The steps up to the bridge are made, in aluminium and will be teak treads, beautifully crafted by the metal workers at Coastal Marine.

This is not a good representation, but gives an impression of the strength and usefulness of the steps.

Down Below

2009-06-29T09:09:00.011+01:00

The main business of the day, if you will forgive; we have new bogs. Our racing friend from Germany, Marcus, has kindly made available to us these top-notch Italian electric flush lavatories which incorporate a bidet, which is pretty fantastic, but is hot and cold too! This will make a huge change from Wickes black buckets on the fore-deck (when at anchor) or in the deckhouse if in harbour. It was one of the most trying things about being in harbour, people always trying to look in when one was busy…

In the engine room the steel deck-beams and their supports was needle gunned and treated with something like Rustbullet (don’t know which one) anyway, a rust inhibitor, a treatment which says it chemically stops rust (we would welcome feedback from anyone who has used stuff such as Rustbullet, although there are several others out there.)

The deck-head beams and bulkheads have been painted gloss white before the fuel tanks were fitted and fixed, each 4000 litres. Also before the tank were installed, all the frames and insides of planks were treated with black bitumen probably called something like Shoopaglopp, which manages to be sticky as well as slippery when trying to stand on it to take photographs. The “black” (“brown”?) waste tank has been safely installed in the lowest part of the bilges and a new Beta 44kw generator installed athwart-ships and is total man-bling, I think, the amount of polishing and showing off it gets.

The gear box has been installed and aligned, and the mountings welded to suit but at present there are these two foot-high white brackets where the old gear box was which have annoyed me until I knew what they were because they are ain in exactly the position of the downstairs shower, and they are going to be cut back. Someone's old stripey pants are going to have to be moved too.

There is a local fog phenomenon called the "harr", which is pronounced sometimes in Eyemouth in the same way as Marlon Brando delivered Kurtz’s last line; “horror”. This mist is a real treat for those of us who burn in the sun (and all its myriad glittering reflections in the sea here) we are going about without sun-block and enjoying a bit of cool.

In the harr, the big fishing boats were moving it was great looking down the harbour seeing the dark silhouettes dissolving away to sea. Today there is a huge amount of prawns being off-loaded from the night fishers, although usually the high-tides keep the shellfish in their burrows. I asked someone when the local herring season started, and was told they don’t arrive until after the “4th drink of May”, so I still don’t know when we’ll see the silver darlings.

Bosun's Locker and A Mediterranean Dream

2009-06-22T18:33:00.008+01:00

Right at the pointy end of the boat there is a handy compartment where we can store ropes, spare anchors etc. and this is called the fo’c’sle, or Boatswain's Locker. The hatch here has had the combing (the bit that sticks up from the deck to stop water washing down into it) shot-blasted and galvanised and the lid has been re-fitted with new hinges, and with a super new handle so the skipper’s man-icure doesn’t get busted when opening it to get to ropes and things.

The main mast is now made and lying inside the boat shed, but won’t be stepped until the boat is launched - it is pretty tall. There are lots of sound-looking brackets for our navigation lights, and because of Heroine’s length we have to carry an extra light for “not under command”. The skipper says he’s also going to fit me with one of these. The mast also has nice welded-on alternating rungs for climbing, for locating coral shoals and sandy atolls. Although probably not in the North Sea, we’ll settle for shoals of herring.

Down below the mast is going to be the saloon, the main cabin and its huge bathroom; the Collingwood Suite. The cabin has its own hatch and the combing has been shot-blasted and galvanised to, so no more will flaky bits of salty paint will fall on our faces while we sleep and get in our open, snoring mouths.

Arthur the Engineer has built a new lid for the hatch, with a cunning stay and it looks as if we will be getting a beautiful brass porthole to set into it, to allow sun-light to flood into the cabin. This is the hatch to which we intend to fit a large wind-sock, so in a crystal Mediterranean bay a gentle offshore breeze will be funnelled into the boat, scenting it with pine, bougainvillea, barbecued lamb and Greek shepherd’s sweat. And here is another picture of Arthur at his bench of legend with the Skipper adopting a suitably reverent attitude towards the new hatch cover.

Bilge Keels and Romance

2009-05-27T12:32:00.016+01:00

We met a chap in Fort Augustus on the way through the canal, a man called Dick, who is a chef. He had taken a converted Scottish trawler to the Mediterranean and the main bit of advice he gave us was to fit bilge keels, so we have done just that. Also, his advice was not to fall in love with anyone who wasn’t as mad about boats as you are because they will make you sell the boat, and give up your dream, and cause you to go back to Inverness to work in an oven-like basement for 14 hours a day …

Anyway, our bilge keels were bespoken by our naval architect at 7m long and about 10” blades; we hope that this will cut out some of the roll, in case we ever get caught again outside a port, such as Buckie, in a blow, with no way of finding our way in, at least we'll be able to stand up to read the charts and use the bogs next time.

The hull has been totally re-caulked, and has its first layer of putty in over the caulking, which will need smoothing and then a second application of putty. There is still some fairing of the hull to do, and filling of smaller dinks and dents, although we will never get a cake-icing finish.

The most obvious change on the deck is that all the old paint around the gunwales has gone, and it is now a gentle white, and as you can see has brightened the whole area around the edge of the deck. No wood needed to be replaced here, some filler, and the timbers worn smooth and dented over the decades by ropes and nets is still apparent, which keeps the character.

The deck has begun to be re-caulked and has reached 1/3 of the way back from the pointy end but is on pause because there is too much else going on. We are planning to use Sikaflex (in black) rather than pitch because, if we ever get to the Mediterranean, then it won’t melt.

For the most patient and virtuous reader who remembers my fondness for the filthy old Lister generator, and how incredibly useful it was when all other power failed, there is a little update.

The Lister was air-cooled so whenever we started it, and so old that smoke shot in every direction, which made the engine room's atmosphere close and difficult to see to walk about in; a previous owner had fixed a 24v alternator from a car or lorry, onto the top of the Lister, with superglue or something, and the generator was joined to the engine with fan belts which didn’t really line up, and although the whole thing was a rusty, deafening smoke-machine it did get us out of trouble more than once in the long voyage.

We binned the old small keel-cooler which was just for running the refrigeration for the fish-hold, but it was not big enough anyway to cool any serious new generator. Sadly the Lister had to go, and not without a tear from the crew, it must be admitted. (The other generator, a 240v close-coupled thing never worked and was rotten) So we are starting from new with power generation.

We have decided to order a second keel cooler for the generator, and I have overheard the Skipper on the phone trying to find another, but water-cooled Lister for me. This is beyond romantic, I can’t wait to see it and I wonder if he’ll wrap it for me…

Hibble, Bibble, Toil and Gribble

2009-05-02T12:04:00.012+01:00

Since the new year the hull has many planks and bits of planks replaced including where there was a "skin fitting" (a kind of tap in the hull to let water in, or other liquids out, such as bilgewater) now we have a water-tight boat, and a kind of blank canvas to start making holes for new skin-fittings, which will be fewer and much more easy to get at

So every part of the hull that had a hole in it is now sorted, including places where Ship’s worms had a feast. The worst damage by these little crustaceans was to the planks were behind the keel-cooler. which was never moved for nearly 40 years and the hardest place to put antifoul – good thing we did to take the cooler off and see, and then could replace the planks where they were more like Crunchie than larch.

For more reading and how gribble destroyed another MFV ...

Gribble in Hamble

For more about Crunchie... Crunchie

I read that gribble are now being recruited to help generate bio-fuels from wood, I wonder if I could have sold our infested timber on Ebay...

Following our exploration of a bay in Ireland, on the way to Eyemouth, without the chart, and ignoring the depth-sounder alarm, we have invested in a new keel shoe; a huge piece of steel to help avoid damaging the oak keel if we “take the ground” ever (again.). More like if the ground takes us...

The renovated copper keel-cooler is in position and sealed into the hull with lovely sticky tar stuff... This will allow cooling water from the main engine to flow round and lose heat in the sea, rather clever because there is no need for anything more clever, as it were.

There is now extra strengthening around the "starn", the rudder mountings and where there was a bit more gribble, and up at the front an all-new steel stem covering, galvanised above the waterline. Interestingly not galvanised below, because steel won’t rust below the waterline, so it would be an adverse thing - the zinc would just bubble off like a sacrificial anode, waste of money and effort.

The stem cover was put on after the anti-fouling, fitted and then welded on, and it will be handy in case we run over any semi-submerged shipping containers.

Coping irons are nearly complete down both sides, they will be painted over and they help in small nudgings of other boats, or docks, rocks etc. , so saving the wood. Like mini metal fenders, or bumpers.

Nice to be talked about... and photographed

2009-04-18T12:03:00.012+01:00

The deck is being used as a workshop and it has several stacks of timber, grey-water tank under construction, caterpillar 3408, gearbox, twin-disc 7:1 (reconditioned) and the plastic cover, spotted and kindly photographed by John Jo with wryly observant comment by Jay Cresswell http://www.trawlerphotos.co.uk/gallery/showphoto.php?photo=61779

September 2008 - Getting the Important Bits Right

2009-02-14T13:15:00.006Z

There was a period of a few weeks when all the old oakum and stuff was taken out from between the planks; from the inside Heroine looked like a seive, and I must say, it is good to know that all of it has been replaced, and the few rotten bits of planking replaced with lovely fresh wood.

The result of this is that loads of work has been done on the boat, but none of it particularly striking visually, but totally crucial to the float of the boat, which is really what it is all about.

Here is some new oakum being knocked into place by JP, a man of such trueness and sound character that I entirely trust him to recaulk my boat, and ultimately that means I trust him to make it good enough to stop her from sinking, and so trust my life to him!

Brokeback Mountain in Eyemouth

2008-10-03T12:26:00.032+01:00

Rather startling progress to report - the bridge and the deckhouse are now one and are sitting on the hard next to Isambard Kingdom Brunel's dredger.

The steam dredger is on the left, and the deck structure for Heroine is on the right, in aluminium.

This is a perfect Autumn day in Eyemouth, lots of warm sunshine and a gentle breeze, the sea is lapping the silky sand and there is a hardly a cloud in the sky.

We have finally moved here to Scotland; it has been a very long slog dealing with some awful family stuff, and we still have some dull business things to take care of down South, but our bodies as well as our hearts are now here full time.

The drive up the A1 from Newcastle is always a pleasure, being stuck behind lorries with speed-limiters means that I can soak up the views and the details of each of the buildings along the wayside; it seems to me that there is not a duff one along this stretch.

On one of our first nights out we were amused to hear (from inside the dredger) two young male voices doing an enthusiastic Brokeback Mountain impersonation, almost a duet. Now, I must say that for those of us who escaped our fair share of avant garde productions at the Donmar Warehouse Theatre this might have been shocking, but instead I found myself appreciating the acoustics of the inside of the old iron ship and wondering if the two lads might actually have some thespian talent because there was a suggestion of convincing passion in the performance...

This picture above shows the deckhouse structure and in the background on the slip-way is the "Rebecca", a really lovely local trawler, whose bridge shows a strong resemblance to ours, and is, in fact, pretty much the same size. The skipper has not my enthusiasm for a "faux-bois" effect, similar to the Rebecca's, on our wheel-house, but having seen it used all over the place up here, and not just on metal deckshouses, I am pretty sold on the idea.

Of course this picture is real wood - a close-up of the hull just below the water line on front left of the boat.

You can just make out the scratched lines (running slightly up in this picture) where the original water line was, so compared with the white line above, this shows that Heroine was floating rather "low on her marks", or somesuch, since she was first launched. Probably to do with having a 10 ton aluminium shelterdeck added in the 80s.

All the old stuff between the planks is being removed and replaced with fresh oakam and then some kind of orange putty which actually smells just like linseed putty.

A huge amount of progress has taken place since our visit in May before our second Summer Horribilis, and it now it looks as if the boat will one day float and be moved by her propellor.

There is a coat of primer going on the hull, in a rather flashy silver, but will eventually be a traditional red colour.

You can see how Heroine does not quite fit into the boat-shed, and how the primer for below the water-line is coming along.

During a chat with the ever-expert Jim about eels (I fancy catching some) he told us about his days on the boats when they would catch eels in the harbour; they would be fishing even when they were having time off from it. The best time for catching eels apparently was when a boat had been repainted and floated - they clustered around the hull for some reason (I'm thinking linseed oil) and could be caught by the bucket-load. No idea why they disappeared.

This is a picture of part of the hull where the planks are very thick - these will be pretty much where our bilge-keels will be fitted. Taken rather close up so that the planks look ridiculously large. They are anyway, but not as big as this picture makes them look.

The propellor is looking lovely, rather sculptural, and the great wooden structure supporting both it and the rudder have been reinforced with steel, which is very reassuring. There was a bit of damage caused by various wildlife and as this bit is critical to keeping the rudder on for steering it is good to see this bit solidly in place. In this picture, the steel has red primer so looks non-metallic, and the Skipper is looking lovingly at the new propellor and dreaming about it churning through the clear blue water of the Mediterranean.

This pic also shows the lovely curves around the stern, and the top of the Skipper's head is still about a metre below the water line.

The yard want us to take the spare propellor with us, which might be a bit tricky. Of course, it makes perfect sense to have a spare in case we ding the one fitted, but just where do you keep something 6 feet in diameter, 2 feet deep and weighing about half a ton? It's not as if we have a shed. Although it would make a beautiful, if rather impractical, low table with a sheet of glass..

There is still caulking to be done on the stern section, and here you can see the grease tube (tiny pip below the Skipper's hand) for the rear bearing of the shaft, so where the propellor turns on its shaft, and the shaft meets the boat, the grease forced into this joint stops the water getting in the guest cabin. Not an area for making savings.

This picture on the right shows off the beauty of the propellor - and the bow of the Rebecca in the background.

The two different colours on the blade of the propellor are where it has been fettled to make it the right shape for the boat and the speed of the propellor shaft. There are all sorts of things which can be used at this part of the boat to help reduce the snagging of old nets, and other debris, such as a tube to fit round the propellor like a nozzle, but I think we are just going to hope for the best and learn to hold our breath underwater.

In fact, the nozzles sometimes create more bother than they save, because sometimes stuff gets caught between the prop and the nozzle itself; when we were moored at Buckie on the way to Eyemouth, we gave cups of tea and cake to two divers who had been removing an old tyre from the nozzle of a trawler in the harbour, something that would have been unnecessary if there were no nozzle in the first place.

Looking forward under the boat we can see the renewed keel-cooler, a long section of copper pipe through which water runs to cool the engine.

The whole thing has been taken off and sorted out and the rotten planks behind it replace and given "the treatment".

The lovely thing about keel-coolers is that it is fresh water that runs through them, cooled by the sea, and they straight back into the engine, nice and simple. As the keel-cooler is tucked under the boat and is not far from the massive keel itself, it is in a fairly safe position and protected from all but the most unlucky collisions. Obviously if anything happened to the cooling water the engine would suffer and we'd be paddling.

On a less butch note, the new planks on the deck are looking lovely. The best thing is that as they are walked over, they are getting to be the same colour as the old deck, nice. The planks are fitted and bolted down then the bolts are covered with bits of wood which look like bungs, then trimmed flat with the deck. All so much better for walking on barefoot.

Between the planks is usually pitch - but because we are planning to be visit places warmer than Eastern Scotland, we are going for the more expenisve option, Sikaflex, which will not melt when the sun gets hot. It's going to be black, so will look right, but before that goes in, all the oakum has to be wedged between each and every plank to keep the deck "tight".

These two pictures (including one above) are of where the old deckhouse used to be. Here is a pic of the port-side fuel tank, in position down in the engine room. The beams across are part of our cunning design to create a hatch so we can get the engine out if it goes properly "bang" in the future. The hatch means we don't have to take the whole deckhouse structure off.

In the corner of the picture you can see the first bit of planking going in, and soon the whole hatch will look pretty much like the rest of the deck.

Where the old trawl winch (which became our anchor winch) was, there is now some new decking - it's all looking so much better.

Here is a closer view of the bit of new deck and the Skipper admiring it.

With Heroine in the shed we have a rare opportunity to take some photographs from unusual angles, and this one shows some of the beauty and incredible skill in the construction of the boat's great stern.

The back of the boat is such a lovely shape - there are other boats out there with rounded sterns but they often have more of a canoe shape, which means that the curve of the deck is more exaggerated. We are very fortunate to have the best of both; a lovely shaped stern and somewhere to sit and sip pink gin.

Part of the work to replace some of the bad planks along the hull results in the next plank needing replacing, not sure why this happens but is something like chasing the plank, ish.

This picture shows the planks being replaced and how the primer looks up at the bow. There is also lots of the putty going in between the planks.

Does My Bum Look Big in This?

2008-05-25T18:33:00.009+01:00

End of May 2008

Arriving by road in Eyemouth this time was a welcome break - we had been summoned by the yard to make some decisions, so we knew some kind of progress had been made.

Heroine was back on the slip, but more importantly, in the shed. Almost in the shed, a bit like a larger sized lady-shopper trying to get into a changing room at Top Shop her bum does rather stick out.

Heroine's skin has taken a bit of a battering through the years, as we all have, and as this picture shows, there is a bit of work to be done to tidy up the starn; all that cellulite is not going to be banished with one treatment of organic strawberry dermabrasion, and, like the author the creases could do with a bit of filler. They damage is caused by the otter boards - the big door sized steel things on either side of the net designed to hold the mouth of it open. When the trawl is hauled back on-board, there is inevitably contact as the steel "doors" run up the outside of the hull.

Another thing that needs attention is the stern post; this damage might be gribble, but we don't know, we'll see what the boat-builders can find out. There is so much wood here that even with this wear we are not concerned about Heroine's strength.

Fortunately she was built to last, and having her out of the water gives us a chance to look at every part of her hull in detail, mend where it needs it, so we can set off in full confidence that we know what state her hull is in. After all, the superstructure is a mere detail in comparison with the bit that actually sits in the water, trying to save some money here is the sort of decision that leads to a sort of immortality in the pages of the government's MCA "Accidents At Sea" Reports, which are always scary and sobering reads.

The inside of the hull is much improved - nearly all the concrete has gone from the fish-room, although it is a bit worrying to see daylight where the caulking has fallen out from between the planks, in precisely the area which would normally be wet.

We spent a happy couple of hours in the chilly engine room working out how much wee and poo we would make in two weeks, a surprisingly large amount, in order to calculate the volume of a black-water tank.

We are much encouraged that the "starn" unit of the steering might be okay - with a bit of an overhaul, it's a thing of wonder, made by Tenfjord, now owned by Rolls Royce, and used to be the best there is, and the engineer's inital opintion is that our system has nothing essentially wrong with it, great if a bit of a saving falls into our laps.

Climbing out of the hull and down the huge ladder back to the ground, it is a relief to be in the open air - somehow the hull holds its temperature, and it's been very cold this winter in Eyemouth.

That's a very long way up, a view of the stem post with the rusted shoe that, when whole, makes sure we come out better when other boats get in our way.

A strange thing -the shoe on the stem is much more corroded above the water-line, something to do with Galvanism, I could of course expand on this but my brain is too full of kittens and embroidery.

My New Home in Pieces

2008-05-04T15:33:00.008+01:00

The Easter visit was just in time to see the new fuel tanks and the flat panels for the wheel-house and deckhouse standing up and taking shape.

The new tanks hold 800 gallons each which, with the improved fuel efficiency of the new engine will give us about 1/2 gallon per mile, if we don't go much above 5 knots, wind-behind and downhill, that's a range of about 3200 miles, ish.

Not that we are planning to cross the Atlantic; can't say I there are enough years left in the century to do justice to all of the richness of European and Byzantine history and the peoples of the Mediterranean so we're heading East, when we leave British and Irish waters.

The back of these tanks is cunning designed to fit closely in the curve of the ribs, so allowing maximum tankage for space. There are also lovely little "pots" made into the shape, visible at the bottom of each tank in the middle of this picture, this will mean we can draw off any water that might have condensed and any grollies that might have grown in the oil/water layer that might form.

The roof of the wheelhouse is massive, and we immediately started worrying about whether the whole superstructure was too tall, not for safety, it's all aluminium so very light, but from an aesthetic point of view.

When buying a house it is important that one likes the looks of it from the outside, much like a husband or wife, they've got to have kerb-appeal, and while not all of us can merit a Nicole Kidman look-alike (apart from the skipper, of course) there has to be a certain fondness for a face, and similarly we hope to have a boat whose looks we like.

So, we have spend a great deal of time poring over the pictures from the naval architect and have decided that the design is fine, any lumpiness made up for for kindly accommodation and ease of living (much like the compromises one makes in choosing a mate, you might say)

As can be seen from this drawing, there is ample space for four marketing executives to occupy the wheel-house and the deck-house. As usual, the PR specialist on the bridge is not paying attention to the course but is staring out over the starboard bow and is shouting"I am on the boat!"

This outline is a pretty good indication of how much space we are going to have. The arrangement of various living areas is so flexible, with a 14ft by 23ft space in the deckhouse alone that there are almost too many choices to make chooses. Also, I wonder, if one builds a large galley, does that automatically mean that one will spend most of one's time there? I believe the skipper has a voice tube to install from the bridge to the "bacon sandwich station" so he can order up various tasty morsels. The crew might find another, more entertaining, use for the whistle in the end of the tube, if this instrument comes to be used to exploit the crew.

One of the things we have learned along the way from reading endless expensive motor-boat magazines and, more usefully, talking to people who have done it, the advice is to get side doors to help ventillation in the Mediterranean. We have also arrange twin french windows at the back of the deck-house to give a more open-plan feel. These are features of which we are very proud, and were delighted to find that we could fit in a deck-level cabin, which will be where we live when we first move onboard.

At the front of the deckhouse is a wooden seat, which will be just lovely for sitting on while the boat goes along, the best place for anyone with a gippy stomach and for the crew to rest away from the shriek of the voice-tube.

The Tide Turns

2007-07-04T17:21:00.018+01:00

There is a stage in a renovation project where it looks like things are so bad they might never get better. This is when the most money spent for the least apparent results; instead of a sea-going boat with an engine, roof, windows we had an empty wooden hull, with huge holes in it. The new engine was still on the dockside and we spent a whole year and a sum equivalent to the cost of a comfortable house in Leeds to get to this point.

Some smart people say that restoring an old boat is like having a hole in the sea into which to throw money. But they lack passion and vision, because they don't see that this hull is truly worthy of appreciation and care, not only for her ease on the eye, (I've heard and read "bonny hull" many times) but it was made using ancient skills, handed down from master to apprentice for a thousand years since the Vikings and then some. Not a hole in the sea, but what we are paying for is a work of art; there was no strict engineering that put Heroine together in the first place but hard-won experience, rules of thumb, pride, native skills, and centuries-old know-how which is fast disappearing.

Heroine is a large bit of a boat - the skipper is a strapping 6feet so you can see how impressive she is out of the water.

Just behind the boat there is a pool of water with a ripple - this is the tide coming in and by the time I had taken 5 or 6 photographs my feet were getting wet.

The new planking at the top is called the gingerbread, which is rather lovely.

During an idle chat with a wooden boat builder we asked how much it would cost to make just the hull, and it was a seven digit number, up the big end. Of course, in her present state, the difference between the cost to rebuild the hull and what we would be able to sell it for is also probably a seven digit number. Possibly even more than that because we would have to pay someone to take her away.

It was with this in mind that we arrived at Eyemouth and we were both prepared for a forlorn sight, but driving down the winding road to the fish dock we could see things were better, although there is no wheelhouse yet the hull has been restored and there is work being done on the decks, so in a way, we have turned a corner.

Heroine is parked alongside the boat sheds in enough water for her to paddle - in a specially dug-out section of river bed so she had somewhere to stay until she's ready to float back into the main harbour, this arrangement is watery enough, but she feels marooned, stranded.

By the second day of our long weekend the weather is delightful, for Easter in Scotland, anyway and I am so excited about being in this place that I have come to love that I can barely supress a shriek of excitement and the urge to run around like an idiot, like a labrador just let of the lead on the beach. The skipper uses the time to chat up one of the people working on our boat - this chap was an apprentice when Heroine was built and says he remembers bending some planks on her. Unfortunately this individual, like most other interesting people in Eyemouth is not an expansive talker and needs encouragement to talk about his work and life, but nothing of value was ever obtained easily, so I'm going to persist.

This spring-fever has affected the usual dignified demeanour of the skipper too - as we climbed onto the boat and looked around he broke into such a smile and was whistling and singing Sinatra in his loud tenor voice as we went down the ladder to look at our new collision bulkhead.

This solid 8mm steel wall has been fixed sideways (alright, athwartships) and bolted onto the mighty frames to prevent any water from entering the rest of the boat if we hit anything serious, such as one of the possibly 10,000 shipping containers dropped in the sea every year, kept just afloat, at the water's surface (so you won't see them until it's too late) by the vast amount of polystyrene surrounding their contents...

This bulkhead has been created and installed by one of the most brilliant (sometimes melancholic) welders in the business. It will give us great confidence when we sail on a dangerous ocean to know that this potentially life-saving structure was built and installed by him (if only everyone driving on the motorway had something similar) His nickname is Morocco, a sunny and exotic place where people frolic in the surf and spend happy hours over spicy dinners with lamb kebabs and joyous dancing bellies, although I can’t think when I might need to buy one of Morocco’s camels he can weld my boat anytime, and I might book his dancers for the skipper’s birthday.

Parts of the deck are being re-caulked - a kind of woolly cotton is bashed into the gaps between the planks to help waterproof the boat. On top of that, traditionally, would be pitch to seal it, but as we are planning to head South, we are going for a smart, black, modern sealant which will not melt and stick to our bare feet or bottoms. The caulking process takes a long time, and is hard on the knees, see top-middle the specialist's own self-made kneeling pad.

There is so much joy in finding out about Heroine and and her history; it was today that we found the original carving of Heroine's first registration in Stornoway. In fact, the previous skipper's son had visited the yard, drawn there whilst on holiday after reading about her in the Fishing News. We have phoned him and promised to visit him when we are on our maiden voyage. Not least to get all his memories recorded of his father's time on Heroine. It seems only right and proper to take her back to her first home. My camera work does the lettering no justice, it is a very elegant Roman type, sadly scored across when she was moved from the Hebrides to her next owner when the registration was no longer valid.

Rather touching that this carving was made in such a key deck-beam, it made me wonder whether the intention was in those days that the boat would stay fishing, and with the same number for the whole of her days. The other thought of course, is that fishing out of Stornaway must be one of the toughest places to work and I am very keen to find out more about the life there, hoping that things will not have changed too much, and relying in my mind on the isolation of the Outer Hebrides, where I naively imagine everyone still wears fisher ganseys and herrings are still the main business...

For the dedicated marine-engineering readers out there (I believe there is one, who will be rewarded for his kind interest by a free ticket to the sea-trials at the very least) here is another interior picture, this time of the engine bed and the partial bulkheads to separate the engine room from the rest of the boat. The new propellor tube can just be seen in the middle.

For non-sea-farers, this is a view towards the back, or "starn", as it is called in Eyemouth. The light from above is the hole in the deck where the wheelhouse was, and the "tramlines" run the length of Heroine and are part of what might be described as the foundations, it is these great wooden structures on which the engine will be anchored, the weight distributed thoughout the whole lenth of the boat, in effect.

For lubbers and the writer alike, another aesthetic lift, apart from the beautiful engraved SY64 beam - there has been some washing of the interior timbers, and in some places the oak ribs and deck-beams, or "rafters" have emerged a beautiful honey colour. I am hoping that in time I will be able to wash or sand all of the oak to get back this amazing beauty. This is a picture of one of the vertial oak ribs and her "sister". The wood running horizontally is the planking of larch or "Scottish Boat Wood". Having looked again at this picture I am somewhat worried about the bolt, shown top-left, is sticking out instead of being tightly fastened.

As it got to lunchtime I went to the fish smokery on the dock and bought two lovely crabs for lunch, one for now and one for the next day, and at a quid each they are a bargain, they were straight out of the steamer when I bought them and too hot to hold. Skipper is not a fan, so he'll be having something else. I must say how fabulous Lawrence of the Ship Hotel is, he arranged for me to take some sandwiches and a whole tray of tea so we could have our lunch on Heroine's deck, it seems that nothing is too much bother.

The sun beat down and I picked over my crab and chucked the bits of shell to the seagulls, fishing boats coming and going and the sound of the fork-lift moving fish-crates on the dock at the Eyemouth Fisherman's Co-operative. There is a pheasant calling in the pretty ivy-covered bank near the ship-yard and I'm thinking surf'n'turf...

The progress on the boat has been astonishing. Many planks have been replaced as well as the damage caused by the life-boat screeching to a halt when they were towing Lenny in Crosshaven. There are new oak ribs exending up to the gunwale and new larch planks, all sweet and bright.

The picture of the bow shows the stem, and the new planks and ribs on either side as well as teh new capping strip. This is the best part of the boat for watching dolphins, it's very comfortable leaning over and looking vertically down at them as they surf the bow-wave.

The ribs here are the extensions of the ribs in the hull but they are not for structural strength - they hold the gunwhale on so that the crew don't fall overboard when she (the writer) is bringing the fenders in-board as the boat leaves harbour. There is new larch between the ribs and this complete the section.

This is one of the nicest parts of the boat to sit, you can see the rest of Heroine all before you, and the noises are the shush of the water along the bow and the wind as the boat moves though the air.

The picture with the clamps shows a new length of oak being bent to shape on the capping strip. This new bit is for a bar to sit inside the gunwale, don't know the term for it yet, but it supports the large wooden "bit" which are such perfect seats, when they are not being used for mooring lines.

The diagonal joint on the capping strip doesn't quite fit exactly, but we are fine with that - we are not aiming for a yacht finish, as they call it, and it fulfils its function, both strong and beautiful, and unpretentious.

The oak has been lying being seasoned before being put on the boat, and as the tannins seep out from the heart of the wood, it seems to darken, and they say it hardens enormously as it ceases to be "green".
The whole scale of the woodwork is more than man-sized, it is not easy to lift raw oak planks on your own and so the building process seems suddenly architectural.

I love the way that this method of bending the oak will automatically match the curve of the capping strip, that's the sort of thing that would take me years to think of, but there it is, just the way they do it.

Although it is a "sustainable" way to build, it seems that cutting down a hundred-year-old or more oak tree is a bit much just for our capping strip, but following advice it is the best thing to resist rot and will be beautiful for ever if we look after it. One of the things to see is the curve at the starn where the oak is one single solid piece. I feel like I am going to sea on the largest and most expensive shaker kitchen ever.

This is the astonishing curve of a single piece of oak around half of the stern. The edges will be rounded for comfort, it's the best place to sit anytime, and the wood will be preserved using something which will not make it too shiny.

One of the challenges will be to make sure that we can sit on the capping-strip but still have railings around the starn, might need some used envelopes, a pencil and a bottle of something to work this out, we also have to think about MCA rating (Maritime and Coastguard Agency) rating for taking paying passengers in the future when we run out of money.

On the Slip

2007-01-16T14:17:00.000Z

Life in London has gone on as usual, but there is the constant siren call of a beautiful big boat in the perfect harbour in Eyemouth, and once we had Christmas out of the way we were ready to answer it.

The excitement of seeing Heroine again got us up and on the road by 5 o'clock in the morning, and in Eyemouth harbour for late morning. Too early to say what time we got there. Not too many speed cameras..

Funny to think that the journey by sea took us nearly 5 weeks but by road, not long at all.

Heroine is up on the slip - sitting on her massive keel, and braced in what it called a cradle; and she is one heck of a big baby.

Since we have been away, all of the metal parts of Heroine have gone - the wheel house and deckhouse that made her face, all the cranes, mast, winches, engine, gear box, trawl gallows.

This photo is taken from the pointy-end, just where it meets the cradle and in the misty distance Jim (shipyard manager) and Skipper can be seen in discussion.

Another thing - I wonder if you remember (I will never forget) how we trundled over some rocks in a bay on the East coast of Ireland, well the reason that the keel was not damaged can be seen here - a huge thick plate of iron, that works like a shoe. Hob-nailed boot, really.

Rather unsettling picture of Heroine "headless". I suppose like a house the windows are the eyes and now she does not have any. This work was done back in the autumn, and I am glad I wasn't around to see it. The rufty-tufty boatyard foreman said it was a good thing too because I would have wept "like a gurrrl" , well, he only thought that last bit. Actually, just leaving her makes me blub. Almost as much as watching that lovely old film "The Ghost and Mrs Muir"; Rex Harrison as the spirit of a salty mariner haunting the beautiful Gene Tierney.

Old wheel-house - ready for the scrapyard. We have salvaged the old windows but whether they will be worth tidying has yet to be seen.

The capping strip, which is the edge of the boat that you can sit on has gone. It was fairly rotten because it had caught all the rain water from the old shelter-deck with nowhere else to drain. I am a bit worried because the tops of the ribs are exposed, and on one or two of them, I could pick bits out with my fingers so they must be a bit "gone". They are the bits sticking up all around the edge of the boat in the picture below.

All the superstructure missing must surely be a step forward but it feels as if we have less boat than we started with, until you look at it and see the tennis court-sized deck.

For Heroine-addicts - not that the combing around the main fish-hatch has gone, that is because this part of the deck will be inside the new deckhouse.

In the background here is the fishing harbour during the storms of this January. Eyemouth is one of the best sheltered havens but even Jim the shipyard manager said that the water in the harbour was "smoking". I hear that this means that the wind is so strong it is blows the tops over like a breaker and then creates thick spray, that looks like plumes of smoke.

During these storms a boat was lost out of Dunmore East (where we had dropped Lenny the ex-skipper of Heroine, from whom we bought her in summer 2005). This was awful news. Dunmore is a small fishing community and it is certain that everyone will have known the men who died - the father and grandfather of one of them had also both perished at sea. Another death was at Ardglass, where we moored on the ice quay in Eire - the father of a fisherman who had been lost the year previously. The father had been walking along the harbour wall and was swept out to sea by a huge wave. Hearing this makes fish and chips taste a bit different.

We found out that before Heroine was "slipped", instead of sitting 9 feet down in the water, there was only 3 feet that was wet. That was while there were still 10 tons of pig-iron and railway sleepers in her bilges, so without all this rusting metal she would probably float on a damp flannel. I am even more convinced that going to see in something that is inherently buoyant is a good idea. Steel is beyond the pale, I am afraid and apparently the hardwood iroko of which Heroine's sister boat "Valhalla" was built will actually sink, in plank form. We have beautiful oak and larch.

Of course, there is displacement and all that stuff to do with the physics of the thing, but it still makes for a more comfortable ride. In much the same way as I think that flying in a hot air balloon would be peaceful, because of its inherent floatiness.

Here is some of the iron ballast taken from the bilges, the old railway sleepers are there too.

(Eyemouth sky is not really pink nor, I must add, is any part of the boatyard, it is coloured in proper manly colours, such as rust and navy and grey. I need to tinker with this image..)

On the voyage to Eyemouth we could

not ignore the rumble from the propellor but convinced ourselves it was just a damaged blade and therefore a bit un-balanced. In fact, the propellor bearings were completely destroyed, so we will need to buy a new propellor shaft, bearings and maybe even a new propellor, but I don't know quite why.

We have sold the old Caterpillar to a great chap in Kilkeel (and the gearbox) and hope he gets good use out of it. I will be sad to have heard the last (literally) of it because the new Caterpillar (discarded by a fellow boatyard customer) is a higher revving engine and will therefore the tone will not be as deep and rich.

The existing propellor is barnacled and damaged, and might have been bronze at some point, and seems to be hanging onto the boat by a thread. Another reason for wild-eyed reminscenses at what we went through in our ignorance.

The great space left downstairs by the removal of the engine, gearbox, generator, fuel tanks is vast. The boat's ribs and planks are cleaner and very beautiful.

The oak has been steam cleaned and some of the original light golden colour is emerging. It is my dream to sand them all back to this condition, our shipyard manager thinks this is funny, he recommends coating them in some kind of black stuff, bitumen or something, no doubt a very practical step instead of my high maintenance plan.

In these pictures the revelation of the beautiful oak is starting. Some of the ribs have sisters - there is another partial rib lying alongside. I wonder if this is part of the original construction or because of damage in the past.

We are hoping to corner one of the chaps that built Heroine, but they seem reluctant to talk to us; one in particular who must be in his seventies. I plan to corner him in the fishermen's pub and ply him with drink until he yields to me.

On the subject of pubs and fishermen, we were delighted and flattered to be greeted by some of the Eyemouth fishermen on this - I think they now know who we are and that we are not just day-trippers.

We walked up the alley away from the harbour, and past the tiny fishermen's pub and we heard a "Heyarrite?" from a chap smoking outside. I have been swollen with pride ever since. It's a bit like going on safari and trying to be accepted amongst intelligent lions who finally throw a tiny bone in your direction.

No one who earns such a hard living under such dangerous conditions owes us any interest, so the open gestures of friendliness was just wonderful.

During the years before we bought Heroine, we read a great deal about the British Isles, through the eyes of foreigners, particularly Bill Bryson and Paul Theroux. I must say that between the hilarity of one and the erudition of the other, the overall impression was not good at all. I had not anticipated finding anyone in the UK who I actually liked, I expected them to be rude and selfish, like most Londoners, but with extra chips on their shoulders. How wrong I have been.

The very best love affairs start well and then continue to bring increasing joy joy at each discovery because everything one finds out about the new love is good and delightful. This is the way with Eyemouth. Not only is it home to the most perfect little fishing port (pop. 3500) but here also is gourmet ice-cream; Giacopazzi make about 20 flavours, in the way that only Italian Scots can, and down by the beach (more on this gem later) is MacKay's, who make Buccleuch Beer flavour, but more importantly where one is tempted to leap over the counter to bathe in their true vanilla sich is its double creaminess, an experience apparently slightly warmer than swimming in the North Sea in the winter, although I am determined to to it before February 2007 is out. The town beach is a sandy strand (well it would be) that runs in a crescent about half a mile long, ending in craggy and grassy cliffs.

Land Legs

2006-08-31T19:50:00.000+01:00

It takes a while after getting ashore for the world to stop moving, and until then we both have a rolling and slightly drunk-looking gait. It is a lovely reminder of our adventure, but Heroine is now 350 miles and several weekends away.

We have washed all our filthy clothes, and all of the "clean" ones, those either unworn (sarongs and shorts) or washed in launderettes with our overalls. It is comforting that everything, even after a full wash cycle, still smells wonderfully of the boat.

We have started talking to a production company who might be interested in doing a programme about our project, probably in the same form as all the "Place in France", "No Going Back" things. I just wonder if we will find ourselves bickering and arguing like everyone does, like Nippy and Nigel, in those series; strife brought on, no doubt, by the presence of a camera crew. If we don't find something to fight about perhaps they won't do the filming. I think I favour peace instead of my fifteen minutes of fame, or even my seven episodes of 25 minutes of fame.

Here is a picture of Lenny, on the left, with Michael Meade, another Crosshaven trawlerman.

Would you buy a second-hand fishing boat from this man? Yes, of course, all day long.

Surfing Home

2006-08-16T09:54:00.000+01:00

Peterhead towards Eyemouth, Wednesday 16th August 2006
We got up this morning at 5am to catch the tide with the intention of doing a short day down the coast to Montrose or Arbroath; I rather wanted to visit the home of the smokies However, the weather was looking good, the shipping forecast from the Met Office was for sylvan breezes so we have decided to do the rest of the journey today. Skipper says that the boat is going like a greyhound, she must know that home is in sight and apart from the earth's curvature, it is. Something about the winds, the tide and the sea state give the feeling that the boat is flying south, and we are hoping that the weather might warm up as we go, we can see blue skies ahead, and perhaps a little sunshine

It is sad to think that this is the last day we will spend on Heroine in her current state. I have come to love the awful scratched formica, the dreadful bakelite fittings, the rusty windows and doors, the appalling, flaking pegboard in the ceilings, the stink of hydraulic oil and Diesel and the aroma of Bilgex so reminiscent of a municipal men's lavatory.

Afternoon:
We have phoned ahead to get ourselves an 'otel room in Eyemouth and the sun is really blazing for the first time since Oban; sunglasses on, sunblock deployed, cigar lit and sparkling seas carrying us south.

There are large swells coming from behind us, the kind of waves that are large but far apart and give the "elephants and fairies" feeling. The movement starts with the stern being lifted and the bow dropping, then the boat seems to raise her head as she is lifted at the top of the wave, then she almost bustles down the slope and seems to sit waiting for the next lift.

We approached Eyemouth in the early evening, about the time that the fishing boats leave the harbour for the night's fishing. We could seem them all emerging ahead, like bees from a hive, and they all seemed to be coming past us to have and look and see who we were. If one had grander ideas it would feel like a welcoming escort, but trawlermen are too prosaic for that kind of daftness.

As we were getting close to Eyemouth the boatyard manager rang us to say he was standing on the cliff waiting for us, and in fact he almost talked us in through the tiny harbour entrance, with the same big swells shooting us into the harbour, straight in amongst the seals, pleasure boats and lads' fishing lines. Lovely to see all the tourists sitting on the harbour's edge in their deckchairs, just soaking up the fishy atmosphere.

Entering a harbour is never relaxing, and nor is getting the mooring lines on, so we were parked up and the journey complete before we really had time to realise it. I had the job of turning off the engine. A sad moment; the old Caterpillar had got us there eventually and we would not be using it again. The sound of a slow-revving big Diesel with the Cat's distinctive clatter was the background music to the dramas in our life at sea, and I wish I had made a recording of it.

Spice of Life

2006-08-16T09:44:00.000+01:00

Peterhead - Tuesday 15th August

We spent a happy 3 hours talking to another ex-trawlerman called Alex of Scotia Charters who is convering a 24m boat into a conference ship to go on the Caledonian Canal. He has done a huge amount of work to it and we think that when it is finished he'll have a gold-mine. He is proposing to do golf tours for business outings and I think with the tartan tourism thing going so well he'll be fending them off the gunwales with a marlin spke.

At about 8 pm we thanked Alex and headed off into Peterhead to track down some supper and the first place we spotted was "The Spice of Life". We were starving, and desperate for a curry after a month away from one. The problem was that we were straight off the boat so still in filthy overalls, boots and woolley hats, and the restaurant looked rather smart. Ravenous and determined, Skipper fronted it and asked them if they would feed us anyway, they said "yes" and what a courteous, kind and professional bunch they are. The food was excellent - not oily and subtly spiced, excellent quality rice and good meat and vegetables. I recommend them to you, and they can be found in Rose Street, off Harbour Street in Peterhead. Thank you again, Spicers.

In North West Scotland there is an abiding fashion for decorating the outside of steel wheel-houses with wood-effect paintwork. There was a fair example of it on "Ocean Maid" who we started the Caledonian Canal with.

Most of the boats in Eyemouth had this treatment, and in the original pictures of Heroine, the whole deck-house and wheel-house is "wooded". I am not sure that we are going to go for this look, it feels a bit old-fashioned, but who are we to decide what is authentic?

In fact the art, at its best, is really impressively realistic, and all done by hand, and sometimes it overflows onto the buildings around the harbour, as in this example. Rather odd to see wood decoration on a wooden door and wooden panelling, but there you are.

You No Eat Now You Go Now

2006-08-16T06:54:00.000+01:00

It seems a long time since we had a meal out, and the hard tack is so old it is now mostly weevils, so we walked up the hill into the village at Buckie to find a traditional Scottish Chinese restaurant. We were not disappointed - our waiter must have been imported specially from Wong Kei in London because he was as abrupt and as rude as you could have hoped to find for delightful authenticity. Our chap rebuked us furiously for trying to order more drinks when he was came to remove our empty glasses because he only did one thing at a time, not as classy as the shrieked response to our request at Wong Kei to wait while our friends arrived "YOU NO EAT NOW YOU GO NOW!"

Buckie is an extraordinary town - in terms of architecture I think it is more interesting than Cheltenham or even Bath for sheer concentration of a single style of house. Most of them are elegant, double-fronted, substantial and stone-built with many stepped-gables and carved mullions. A result probably of the previous prosperity of the place, and fortunately most of them still exist, in the main untouched, although there is a plague of uPVC windows which spoils their faces.

At the top of the town it felt absurdly French, even under the grey rainy sky, but there were beautifully presented bakers, with delicate window decorations, many more elegant health and beauty shops than one would expect in a depressed fishing town and the lack of the big chains creates space for an exciting High Street and scope for local businesses to thrive.

I was touched and amused by the civic decorations half-way up the hill to the town. I imagine that at some point there was either some EU or lottery money made available for some kind of beautification and someone in the local council got one of their fishermen mates to do it. This is what happens if you leave a trawlerman to create an "installation" to decorate a public space...

In the background there is a pile of herring barrels, then an old anchor. On the right of the picture, nestled artfully on the gravel, there is a small hydraulic winch and the the foreground, as you can see, some punctured fenders. Note the dog-mess bin; located for convenience, not composition.

Buckie has other, more charming features, such as Finlay, one of the harbour-masters, whom we often interrupted during his making of creels to get the keys to the quayside bogs. Finlay always had a helpful word for us, at least we think he did, because for the first day we could not understand each other. Funny how we got to grips with the accent and the vocabulary. At one point I asked him where I could buy some fish and he said to go to the shop called "Eat Mair Fish", which I translated in my mind as "Eat More Fish", but no, that's what it's called. I wish we had bought one of Finlays pots to get some crabs.

Staying at Home Today

2006-08-14T15:41:00.000+01:00

The forecast was bad for today so having poked our noses over the breakwater (didn't need to really, we can see the spray from miles away) we have decided to get some rest and look at the forecast again tomorrow.

Hot Water

2006-08-14T15:29:00.000+01:00

Having had to get up in the night to chase away some local nippers who were throwing stones at uteh boatI was glad to get out of Inverness. We picked up yet another fishing boat on the way out to the sea lock, this time it was the Star of Hope, from Galway, on the way to be broken for scrapin Hull. I don't have a huge amount of love for rusty, square transom steel boats but surely it is a bit sad to end up in Hull of all places.

The skipper of the Star was keen to keep up with us as he was not sure about the exit through the Firth of Inverness and into the Moray Firth. Despite that he went full pelt up out of the locks towards the sea and there were some extremely tense moments when we saw him go the wrong way around a channel marker - because it was red he passed it on his port side, but he must have forgotten that we were leaving a harbour and not entering it, so the colours are reversed.

I was doubting my own eyes and the evidence of the chart - especially when he did it again but on the other side with a green marker. He was lucky it was high tide - we calculated he had at least 18" of water under his hull. Surely a fishing skipper knows what he is doing, but let that be a lesson to us, not to take anyone's lead unless they look like they know what they are doing, especially when they say they came all the way from Galway without charts. I only wonder how on earth he got through all the tricky tidal bits with all the rocks around Oban and Fort William without a big bump.

We were both really enjoying being out of the bath away from all the little rubber ducks and in the big water again; the tang of salt in the air, the water and froth seething down the sides, the prow leaping and plunging., there were dolphins playing around the boats and leaping clear of the water.

The fun did not last for long because within a couple of hours the weather had changed, the sea was really up and we were going over the waves and up and down like a fair-ground ride, but more expensive and with no candy floss to look forward to.

Things did not improve as dusk fell. The Star of Hope was leaving us to go 24 hours a day to get to Hull and apart from an air-sea rescue going on a couple of miles away and a huge tug towing a massive target barge for the navy and an oil tanker, and a tiny trawler dashing about between it all, we were entirely alone in a big sea.

It was not far now to our next stop, Buckie, but once again our navigation software let us down and we spent a couple of uncomfortable hours as the waves got sharper with me on the floor to stop falling over with the PC on one knee and the huge paper chart on the other, trying to nail down the right approach to the harbour, guarded by rocks of various heights and sizes, with all the harbour's lights obscured by cars' headlights, street-lamps and for all we know, local wrecking teams.

We were getting very tired and hungry - it was impossible to move around the boat without using all your strength just to hold on; I was even using my neck to brace my head against things as I was sitting. Also, it was impossible to use a bucket, so there was some talk of abandonning them and going for the old-folks remedy of "going where you stand". Fortunately, just as we were discussing our next moves, the small trawler, which had been racing about previously, appeared and looked like he was going into Bucke. We radioed to see if he would mind leading us in and he was happy to do so. We followed his wildly rolling stern lights, clinging to the path they made on the water and found our way in. I must say I have never been happier to see a grotty concrete wall.

I know we would have made it, we were just setting ourselves up to go in using the GPS, radar and the charts, it was just hugely more relaxing this way and saved our laundry. Once we were moored, Skipper went to express our gratitude to the trawler skipper, who is called Ian and owns the little 30ft "Challenge". He used to own an 85ft boat but that size is becoming uneconomical, and so, like so many other fishermen, he is earning his living getting high-value shellfish on a smaller, more "boutique" vessel.

Loch Oich, Ness to Inverness

2006-08-14T15:13:00.000+01:00

I must say I am not bowled-over by the scenery here. Lots of pine forests with the occasional modern house on the shores. Once, just once we saw a beautiful house at the end of Loch Oich. Very much in the French style and it got me wondering about the "special relationship" that predates the Bush-Blair mutual-admiration or even the Reagan-Thatcher love-fest by several hundred years, and I mean the understanding and alliance between the Scots and the French. Having given it some thought, perhaps they are united by their mutual disdain for the English who, as a nation, completely fail to pronounce their "r's".

Moored for Two Days in Inverness - Force 8 in Cromarty
View from the aft deck of a tough pub. Note bars on windows. Very friendly nonetheless.

One memorable visitor was a girl jogging up the tow-path with a beautiful rough-haired sandy lurcher, loping ahead of her. All the staff at the flight here were kind and helpful, and directed us to a great pub near the sea lock. More later when I can remember its name.

We took advantage of a quiet day to do some shopping and found butchers that does proper flank of lamb. Also they sell "fruit pudding", which is advertised as a speciality of the Orkneys; wheat flour, sultanas, spices and beef suet, more like a classic English savoury/sweet Georgian era pudding. Jack Aubrey would love it.
Another picture, of the view from the galley - not my favourite location but safe, warm and apart from a bit of a disturbance, no worries at all.

View from the galley window at Inverness.

Where Worlds Collide

2006-08-14T14:59:00.000+01:00

It took ages to get into the next lock - just because we couldn't make our VHF radio work on channel 74. We found ourselves in a small but deep pool of water facing the lock with a huge wind blowing us towards the steel gates or into the shallows. This made for a stressful couple of hours, constantly steering, reversing and trying to judge our position correctly while the wind howled through our aerials.

Part of the reason for the lack of enjoyment of waiting to go through the locks was the responsibility we suddenly had thrust on us by the presence of a scattering of rented"Caley Cruisers". These are small plastic river boats driven by men who think they know what they are doing and women who know they don't and are both equally dangerous. Especially when they are being blown sideways off jetties towards locks and wiers or towards us when we are trying very hard to avoid them. This is just another example of how there are seem to be two worlds in boating - oceans and non-oceans, one must think about tides, weather and shipping forecasts and uses Reed's Nautical Almanac as a bible, the other thinks about the Wind in the Willows, fancy new hats and uses "Which Pub 2003" as a bible.

Once in the lock, the keeper said we could moor there for the night. This was great for all of us - we had to do no more roping and had a secure berth, the lock-keeper got to go home and had a ready sign to the noddy boats that there was nothing moving until we went at 8.30 in the morning so he would not be bothered by VHF and mobile calls.

Just as we were battening down the hatches against the driving rain coming up the lock we spotted a solitary canoe paddling into the wind. We thought we had had a hard day so we waited around to find out who this toughie was. He is German and is kayaking the "wrong" way down the Caledonian Canal to fulfil a fairly random idea he had a few years back. We invited him for supper but he said he would be fine, once he had put his tent up (in the gale) and sorted out his cargo of 200kg. We described a warm room with a hot supper and in an hour he turned up, all clean and carrying a bottle of wine. Now that's organised. Emin was incredibly entertaining; witty (in English, his third language), asking us lots of questions and a great trencherman, although I think he must have put the 1 lb pound of hough stew, the lump of chocloate pudding and the pint of custard in is pockets, because there did not look to be enough room inside him for it all.

Neptune's Staircase

2006-08-14T14:50:00.000+01:00

Neptune's Staircase
It was good to have another night's sleep and the day was going to require it. There is nothing more exciting that seeing ill-tied rope snaking out through a set of cleats to race the pulse. The stairs are a set of about 79 locks, each of which require that the boat be moored and unmoored, and during the filling the ropes need to be adjusted and care must be taken not to squash anything else in the lock. On the way up we had picked up another fishing boat called Ocean Maid, a large Scottich trawler on their way from Troon to catch prawns in the North Sea.

Now we hear that many of the East coast boats go West to get the prawns in the summer, so one wonders, could they not form a summer co-operative to save all the charging about?

We found ourselves crammed into the locks with Ocean Maid which made for an excellent fender. In fact we discovered a thing or two about fenders in the locks; the big round fancy ones with their own net covering get trashed - the netting is ground away by the boat and the concrete and the thing to have is car tyres, of which we have many. When we lost our smart fender the boys on Ocean Maid caught it for us and re-netted it in the space of two stairs, what kindness. My skipper shouted something to them about buying drinks at the next stop in Fort Augustus but I think they mis-heard him because once they were out of the top of Neptune's Staircase they were off at full pace with only a splash of spray and a puff of burning oil to show where they had been. I think we'll have to send them a bottle of something back to Troon.

This lock business is already a pain - roping on and off even with the help of the lock-keepers. Although I must say I think we put on a good show because although we are short of crew for this kind of task we needed only one helper instead of the two needed by Ocean Maid who has a full complement. Having said that, there is something undignified about trailing behind a huge, dirty, rusty boat in filthy waterproofs carrying a coils of two-inch thick grimy rope. I felt like some kind of ghastly bridesmaid.

I cannot say that we were faultless performers; there was a bit of Dick Darstadly and Mutley; shouting and under-the-breath retaliation, ingenious hapless leader and mutinous but totally dependent crew. The rain came down which was a great help, fewer spectators and therefore less pressure to look good. Although it was great to meet Bill, a local photographer who knew all the fishing boats that transited the canal and knew Heroine by sight. I find this very touching. He was a great help and told us lots of information about her, we did not know that she had been in Ayre for a while.

Fresh Water

2006-08-07T22:15:00.000+01:00

Oban to Ben Nevis Monday 7th August
Until I can muster the words for this, a picture will have to do. We are moored on a jetty, almost at the foot of the Ben. This is very odd but comfortable and we are going to climb Nepturne's Staircase tomorrow.

Don't Touch the Overalls!

2006-08-07T22:13:00.000+01:00

Jura to Oban - Sunday 6th August

Things were quite grey this morning, Jura's beauty had disappeared behind the rain and we set off in soggy, cold wind.

There was a fair bit of tricky navigation in amongst the islands especially because our navigation system is not working. Fortunately, when we go to Corryvrekan, scene of many of my nightmares, we got behind a yacht that looked like it was making a passage (apparently this means it is being driven by someone who knows what they are doing) and so we followed his course by slowing down and checked on the paper charts. No whirlpools but some really funny water - deep eddies, smooth oily-looking patches and areas where the sea seems to boi. Once safely through we took off past the sailing boat and waved our thanks to him. I think he knew what we were doing, from the tone of his returning wave.

Anyone who has spent anytime in this part of Scotland knows that it is beautiful, and when you see how cheap old stone houses are on the islands, we like all Londoners started planning a renovation project with paying guests.

Oban was great fun. As soon as we arrived on the railway pier (the train station that connects to London, very odd) we attracted a crowd. I wonder if it is because of the recent series on the BBC called "Trawlermen", I think they must be the new pin-up boys because when the other fishing boats came in, the cameras were going like mad.

Following a recommendation in "The Rough Guide" I bought dinner from the seafood shack. It is green, for reference, and we had some langoustines (like Dublin Bay prawns) but smaller, some razor clams which moved about in the plastic bag in an unnerving way (until I got them onto a searing hot griddle) and a whole, small brown hen crab. Razor clams were great - that roasted shell flavour is just like the seaside on a hot day. All was superbly fresh and I can't wait to go back there.

A very handsome tail of oak-smoked salmon

It took us three hours from arriving to our dinner; everyone wants to talk to find out what we are up to. That was, until a more interesting boat turned up, and it was the "Rosa & Ada" an 1908 Whitstable oyster smack, a little like a Bristol Channel Pilot Cutter, but smaller, and very pretty. You can see her at www.rosaandada.com. The master is a Scot as is the mistress and they have owned her for ages. They did exactly what we are doing and were a bit nostalgic about sleeping in the fish-hold on pallets. They also knew "Heroine" from their home port of Troon, and were very glad to find out what her future will be.

I got back from a walk to find another fishing boat rafted up on the outside of us, and thought that we were in for a worrying night, but it was another decommissioned boat, just bought by a local fireman who plans to renovate it and when he retires to take it to Greenland, Iceland and Canada. What a great idea. She is the "Clifton", from Maraig. No pictures just yet. Our fireman friend brought his colleagues down to the quay for a look-around and they arrived in the company car - the fire-engine. Happily for us "Rosa & Ada" was rafted out alongside the Clifton and we knew that was all we were getting. Even the most hardended fishing skipper is not going to raft onto an antique.

Heading North

2006-08-07T21:01:00.000+01:00

Red Bay to Jura, Saturday 5th August

What a difference a bit of sunshine and a glassy sea makes. Boating is fun again and the old girl is chuffing away again Northwards. No more dolphins but more gulls that we can accommodate, hitching a ride to the Inner Hebrides.

Strange that as we are leaving Cushendall in the dinghy the night before saling, it is disappearing behind us in the mist in the opposite way to when we arrived a week ago so rather like a Brigadoon.This is more so because everyone is much kinder there than anywhere else we have visited. Without fail we were offered help without limit. I was touched by their generosity and will be wanting to go back there again.

The voyage up to Jura was uneventful, apart from seeing our first beam-trawler in action. These are boats that have arms which extend over the sides and pull nets on either side of the boat; scouring the sea-bed for scallops, plaice, flounder, sole and other flatfish. Very dangerous work because the nets are more likely to catch and drag the boat sideways and down into the deep.

We are moored in the delightful (in a craggy way) Loch na Mile, very peaceful and looking forward to an afternoon shop. Fortunately we don't need any more soap as we ran out of tank water last night. Loads of water to drink however, but are using travel-wipes for the worst bits. This morning, whilst still in Irish-ish waters made an Irish stew with lamb from the butchers as Cushendall. It is fab stuff, mostly fillet and a bit of breast so is going to be tip-top.

In order to get some water to do washing-up and showers, we are going to take the dinghy to "town" and fill up four of our 22 litre drinking water bottles. I am hoping that because Jura is such a small community that they will use spring water for their taps and not the chlorinated town-water found in most other places. The taste test will be the thing

Have been sitting on the aft deck waiting to hear the fish alarm on the depth sounder go off, but there is nothing - then we saw why - a sleek large seal is patrolling the loch in at a very lordly manner.

Now that we are in Scotland it feels like we are actually getting somewhere, at least we are in the right country. Jura is lovely and our nearest neighbour is a fabulous big house with lots of lawn, surrounded by about 50 acres of established, mixed woodland, backed by the grey hills, the Paps of Jura.
We set off to town which consists of an hotel "The Jura Hotel" and one shop "The Jura Stores" and a bit of a pier. The island was in the middle of its regatta, lots of different rowing races and races with outboards. Oddly enough, most people organising and doing the shouting and ordering about were middle-class English people (which is often the case all over the world) and the real Jurans were probably sensibly in their fields or toasting their woolly-socked feet in front of their own peat fires with a glass of the essential in their hands. We had a wee dram ourselves in the Jura Hotel and very good it was too, overlooking the distillery that was shut for the weekend.

We managed to get the water loaded into the dinghy and now we have the means for washing. Great. But apart from that, the water is great to drink, very sweet and soft.

Irish stew tonight was fantastically good, not least because the weather was cool, grey and rather drizzly. It is forecast to blow a 4 or 5 tonight, and in fact it did, but because there was no tide to speak of, Heroine lay with her bow into the wind which was so steady we didn't wake until well after it was light.

Force 8 Expected Soon

2006-08-04T21:05:00.002+01:00

Friday 28th July Red Bay near Cushendall, Co. Antrim

I had hoped by this time that we would be safely tucked away somewhere between Islay and Jura, but we are just inside Red Bay and expecting a force 8 in the next 24 hours. I am sure that in the eyes of proper sea-folk my panic is ridiculous and that we have good shelter, good anchor gear and that the blow will not last long, but there is always the fear of the unknown, and I have not been out in an 8 before, not even in a ferry.

At the moment the bay is glassy still and there is a fluffy covering to the mountains around. We have loads of anchor chain out and I know that this boat was built for bad weather and an 8 is just standard stuff for the Shetlands fishermen. Skipper is doing more engineering - we seem to have lost the use of one or more fuel injectors and fortunately managed to get some ordered so they might arrive tomorrow Saturday. In the meantime there is some diagnostic work to do and we are using the hand-cranked harbour set to generate power. Noisy and smelly but so effective. This old Lister has earned a big dirty place in my heart for being so utterly dependable.

We noticed an unusual amount of smoke from the exhaust and started to worry about what might be happening. The main worry was that we were in a bay with no harbour and the storm was predicted to be a force 8 from the South East. We had some shelter from the bay, but the sea tends to ignore headlands and sweep in anyway. The water is mirror calm at the moment and the only indication of a change in the weather is the mist appearing at the tops of the mountains.

The noises and smoke from the engine Skipper thought might be a problem with an injector.
So the main engine did not start. It looked like perhaps there was not enough charge in the batteries so we decided to run the harbour set for an hour or so. Unfortunately, because it uses so much force to spin the alternator the fan belt sometimes slips. The adjustor was broken before we had her and must be held in position with mole grips. How these fishermen ever survive one wonders. Not surprisingly 34 trawlers were lost around the UK last year and there were 9 drownings, which, statistially, given that there are so few trawlermen left makes the business one of the most dangerious.

Time on my hands - looking at my fingernails

2006-08-04T21:04:00.000+01:00

Ballygalley Bay - Thursday 27th July

This is a lovely bay with the sweeping coast road around the base of the soaring green hills with woods and sheep Yet another perfect summer's day in smooth conditions and blazing sunshine. The boat seems to love ploughing along North, and, not that I believe in it, but she seems to be heading keenly for Eyemouth for her make-over. I can sympathise with her; my nails are cut back to the quick to save ripping them on wood and rust, the sea turns my hair to straw and I have dirt so deep in my skin that I don't think I'll ever be clean again, my eyebrows have gone feral and my face is like leather.

Leaving Ballygalley we noticed a difference in the engine noise and spent a couple of hours listening and altering the revs to see what we could find. We had planned to take advantage of the tides and beat the incoming storm to the Inner Hebrides and get to Islay before dark. The engine noise did not get any worse and we are still getting used to what it sounds like.

Perfect Day at Sea

2006-08-04T21:02:00.000+01:00

Ardglass to Ballygalley - Wednesday 26th July

The journey out of Ardglass and up the coast was one of the prettiest days yet. The Antrim coast does not figure on most people's travel wishes, but I'd like to suggest it as a rugged alternative to the West coast of Scotland with fewer midges. There are layers of interestingly shaped hills and when the sun shines on the grass, their intense green is almost luminous. A typical peaceful day at sea progresses, there seems to be something to do every minute.

After leaving the harbour we check our position using the GPS and the charts and plot a course for our next waypoint. That involves drawing a pencil line on the chart and checking for obstacles, such as rocks and islands and then turning the boat onto that compass heading. Because our computerised chart system does not work reliably, we spend time re-booting the PC and then re-checking the paper position every ten minutes or so.

In between, we check the bilges and the engine oil pressure down in the engine room, keep a watch for other boats and large stuff especially lobster-pot buoys and fishing nets which always seem to be strung across our path, keep a watch for other ships and boats on the radar and we also steer the boat.

There is tea-making, hand washing of clothes, filling of solar showers, writing of web diary, cooking and washing up, reading of pilot guides for the area we are about to enter and general house-keeping. Not to mention continual hand washing; we have used a whole big bar of soap in a week.

On the Ice Dock

2006-08-04T20:57:00.000+01:00

Ardglass - Tuesday 25th July
As before, we tried to contact the Harbour Master but there was no reply, so instead we rang the marina. It is often the case that old fishing villages build a marina to bring in more income and the two functions don't usually work well together. The yachties was clean, quiet and pictureque and the fishermen want "10 tons of ice down the chute right now, we're loading at 3am and leaving the harbour at full chat so eat my wake." In fact, most fishermen have little time for anyone who puts to sea without being paid for it, so marinas and fish-docks have an uneasy co-existence.

Anyway, when the marina answered, I explaned to the girl (the marina owner's daughter as it turned out) that we are a decommissioned trawler, 21 m long ("what's that in feet?") and that we wanted a berth for the night. Now, we really only phoned them because we thought they would refuse us but give us the number for the harbour master, but she was adamant that we would be fine to come it and she would direct us. The harbour looked excitingly small and bijou on the chart and when we got in it felt like we were on a model boat pond, the spaces were tiny and we had to reverse up and down to avoid large rocks. Also there cardinal mark in the middle of the channel into the marina that says that the danger is to the East, and seeing as the entry to the Marina is from the East it seems a bit daft. When we mentioned this to the marina, they said that oh yes, lots of people comment about it...

We moored onto a flimsy pontoon with cute little aluminium bollards ("cleats" apparently) about the size of a door handle, and had just put the kettle on when the marina owner himself came running to tell us we could not stay. I took a pinch of umbrage at this because I thought it was because we were old and dirty, but the pontoons would only take 30 tons of boat, and we are more like three times that. Someone is not going to get any pocket-money this week.
We untied and set off round to the fish-dock next door.

We felt that we were going to be much at home moored against a 20 feet high concrete wall with smelly nets and old creels and bits of wire when we were met by a frowning chap with large jeans and an over-extended set of braces who asked us what we were doing. It turns out that all the harbours on this coast are plagued by abandoned boats and until he found out we were on our way to Scotland he was very unwelcoming. This initial hostility made his complete change of expression all the more charming when he found out that we were on holiday and would be there for only one night and he and his three harbour mates came on board for "the chat".

The food in Eire has been wonderful. Today I have eaten dulse, which is very salty (but would be great in an omelette or with rice and chicken) and potted herring - delicately sharpened with a touch of vinegar, sweetened with caramelised onions and warmed with all-spice. All for £1.75. Sold to me by a large enigmatic man with a waist length rippling dark beard and hair shot with silver, black eyes and walnut skin who appeared out of nowhere behind a counter in the corner shop, surely Merlin reborn. He certainly does magic with herrings...The fish went perfectly with some Irish wheaten bread, a sort of wholemeal soda bread it seems, spread with "I Can't Believe It's Not Transfats".

Ardglass is a perfect fishing port, lots of action and Dublin Bay prawns coming in, how many did I eat? None. Missed the market (where they are all sold to France, Spain and Portugal) and the boats were unloaded before we got there and had gone out again during the night. I wish we could have stayed a week. Despite what the clean and pleasant people staying in the marina might think, the best place to see the village is from the ice station on the fish dock, a sweep of rocky beach, backed by trees and small houses, rising up a wooded and craggy hill-side and a chunky bit of castle over the pub for glamour.

Fishermen being what they are, there was 150 tons of boat tugging on our mooring lines and what should have been a peaceful calm night for the Skipper was fraught with worry about us all drifting onto the rocks if our mooring lines had broken.

The picture shows three other fishing boats "rafted up". This is common practice and means that all the fishermen can come and have a chat about the boat. One chap in particular had wanted to buy Heroine when she was at Kilkeel (a new one to us) and was quite disappointed to find out that we had cut off the shelterdeck and were planning to use her to live on. He thought it a waste of a good fishing boat, but I think it was sour grapes.

Thou shalt have yet another fishy

2006-08-04T20:55:00.000+01:00

Dundalk Bay
This is a wide and shallow bay so our anchorage is at least a mile off-shore. This position does not feel snug although we are nicely sheltered. There is little wind and few waves we have settled down to a quiet summer's evening of fishing as the sun starts to go down over the sweeping Mountains of Mourne.

In Milford Haven I bought a very impressive hand-line with special eel lures and spinning mirrors from a business-like looking fishing tackle shop. I put Lenny's (Lenny was the fishing skipper we bought the boat from, in Crosshaven) technique into practice and hooked some mackerel on the first drop, but somehow they all got free and the same thing happened on the second drop. It is frustrating to see your supper one minute out of the water and on the way to the pan and the next iswimming away unharmed. Lenny had been adamant that "Mustad" mackerel feathers, (the sort of very basic lures that children are given) were the best to use so having all the time in the world I settled down to changing the fancy lures for the more "end-of-the-pier" kit .

As soon as it was in the water I could feel the attack of the mackerel and pulled it straight back up with 4 fish. The next drop got 3 and that was more than enough for supper. So, well-sourced, no matter how unlikely, advice is often worth following.

If I knew then what I know now...

2006-08-02T21:24:00.000+01:00

Milford Haven to Cahore Point, Arklow, Wicklow, Dun Laoghaire and Howth. Friday and Saturday 21st and 22nd

Fully charged up and with our shiney new alternators in place we got up the anchor and headed round the corner into the St. George's channel. The sea at this point is very much subject to the huge swells that grow up out in the vast Atlantic and where they bounce off the Welsh and Cornish coast they seem to make a huge messy sea when the wind blows. Sailors call this sea lumpy. I would call it really quite uncomfortable. Small boats turned back in the face of the waves coming in from the Atlantic, but we went on. If I knew now what set of events were about to occur, I think I might have turned back too.

For the first hour or so outside Milford Haven we were thrown around regularly and spent much of the time restowing kit that was making itself free, but once past Grassholm it was much smoother, and less smelly too (Grassholm is white with guano). That said, there is the occasional huge wave, about the size of a small house that comes from the side and makes us grab onto things (and each other). It is a strange motion because instead of being an obstacle in the way, the wave become geography; the boat rolls as the wave starts going under one side, comes upright at the top of the wave and then rolls the other way on the downward side. Although these waves were much bigger than the coastal ones they are far easier to handle because we are riding them.

It is now almost 36 hours later and we have not had a night's sleep. I have been grabbing naps when it was not too obvious but Skipper has been on the go constantly. The weather and navigation have been so unreliable (I blame myself for the latter only) that he has not been able to let his attention drop for a second.

All of the problems we had stem from my lack of good sense. We had the chance at Milford Haven to buy the paper charts for Ireland, but because the chandlery was being difficult I thought we would "make do" (yes, I know) with a larger scale chart and the Reed's Almanac that gives details of marinas and places to anchor. That was a fine plan, until we found out that the Reeds is not really detailed enough. We also found out that our electronic chart system that sometimes works (when it blinking feels like it) and puts a picture of a boat on the chart to show us exactly where we are) does not "do" Eire.

We discovered how vague Reeds was when we gently bumped over some rocks in a supposedly good anchorage at Cahore Point. Very disturbing and quite nosiy. Fortunately this boat was made to be sailed by fishermen, people (we have met a woman-skipper) whose main interest is making money and getting home rather than being out there just for fun, so the keel is shod with iron and the hull, after decades of seasoning in salt water, is tough enough to take this kind of gentle exfoliation. However, in the night that followed, there were scores of journeys up and down the ladder to the engine room to check the bilges for extra water that might indicate a leak. From making land at about 8pm, perfectly timed for a quiet evening at anchor with the prospect of dinner and a glass of rouge, instead we decided we had no alternative but to make for the next safe harbour which was Arklow another 3 hours up the coast.

Nightmares often have the quality of the dreamer being out of control and at Arklow, as warned by Reeds, we could see nothing of the tiny harbour entrance in the pitch black, we were also usure of our position and the electronic charts were no help so decided to head on again for Dun Laofhe as the book indicated an easy anchorage. We were already tired and bruised and dirty from being thrown around in the St. George's Channel and it was turning into a long night. We estimated that Dun Laighoare was about 4 hours away and I really thought I wouldn't be able to do it.

The navigation was very difficult; my glasses need replacing and the anti-glare coating is now so bad it feels like looking through frosted glass. To save the skipper's night vision I was using a hand-held torch to read the charts and get up and down the stairs. We were watching vigilantly for buoys warning us of shallows and rocks, which are a constant shadow to this coast. Some of the buoys on the radar were "extra", some seemed to be marked differently from the notes on the brand new chart.

Every step of the way we were trying to work out if a buoy was flashing "quick 6 and then one" or "very quick 6 and then one" and with tiredness comes hallucinations, as the lights appeared to become free of their lines and float up and up and around in the pitch dark sky. There is nowhere for a navigator to stand on the tiny bridge and the skipper had to stand so see out of the open windows, so we had been on our feet all night, and trying to keep our balance in the choppy seas. Perhaps one of the worst things was the heat coming up from the engine making us sleepy and the noise of it thundering away that kept us awake. In fact, it is not possible to talk normally over the engine noise on the bridge so I was getting pretty tired of shouting directions to the skipper all the time. At about 3am there was a lighting of the horizon in the north east and we knew that the worst was over. It turned into a millefeuille of textures and colours, the brightest of which was the intense flamingo pink that the sea does so well.

We arrived at Dun Laoghaire at about 6 am and it would have been lovely to anchor in the marina, but the only person answering the phone was the security guard, who we discovered did not know that "trawler" meant a fishing boat and that starboard is on the right. We were just reversing into a lovey clean and tidy berth amongst the tupperware when he came running along to tell us that we could not stay. So, we had to manouevre again carefully out of the narrow channel and out into the bay.

We found that the anchorage outside was calm and in the brilliant morning sunshine things began to look up again until, that is, Skip discovered that the main engine bilge pump was not gushing away as usual. The bilge pump needs to be running to make sure that the water that leaks in around the propellor shaft can be got rid of, otherwise there would be water in the gear box and all sorts.I must confess that when he told me there was nothing practical I could do once I had fed him a monster "Irish Fry" and two pints of tea, after 24 hours of being awake and on my feet I could not stand up any more so had 3 hours sleep. In this time, he fixed the pump and a large wind got up, making the anchorage uncomfortable. As the wind increased we decided we had to pull up the anchor to find better shelter and getting it winched takes two of us because the huge chain does not go on straight; someone must use a rope to guide each 2m length slightly sideways with a rope as it is turned onto the massive spinning reel by the main engine hydraulics. This is a noisy, fast, difficult and potentially dangerous job, but somehow we managed it. We engaged gear and set of yet again, at 11 am across Dublin Bay to Howth.

It is the proper thing to contact a Harbour Master before you drive into his domain, so I spoke to Howth's HM who was reluctant to let us in because they do not have non-commerical craft here. I managed to persuade him that we desperately needed charts and hydraulic oil for the steering, both of which were true. He might also have heard the beginning of tears in my voice and I think that did the trick. He very kindly put us on the emergency berth by the ice dock, a priviledged position for a non-professional in amongst all the other old trawlers, and they are old. Some seem to be in far worse condition than Herione and some of them are still out ther in all weathers bringing in the fish.

Our harbour master is Captain Rajah who is a "deep sea man", i.e. a ship's captain from the merchant navy, and he says that the Royal Navy have too much money, the fishermen no respect and the yachties more money than brains, I was not sure where we fit it, but I am sure he'll think of a category for us.

Once we had the lines on and had a shower we went to sleep, and did not wake for a couple of hours until it was time to go out for a curry and to catch up on the Web-log. Sleep is delicious when you know you are safe after a long and difficult night. The sun was shining down the fish-hold hatch, warming the old carpet and if we could have been bothered to move, our feet too. The shouting and noise on the docks faded in our ears as we dozed off. For that kind of bliss it's almost worth spending the night fighting sleep, hallucinations and bad temper.

The boats at Howth all seem to be of the same era as Herione, they are more often than not made of wood with a smilar "cruiser" stern, typical of the older boats. Perhaps this is why people are not as interested in Heroine here, they see this kind of thing everyday but in Milford Haven where the boats are much more modern (although they are rusty and covered on guano too) they see H as a bit of an antique, which is fair enough.

I imagine that Howth at one time was a prosperous fishing village with some scenery around it, but now it has three golf courses and the fishing industry provides "flavour" for visitors seeking that elusive Irish experieince that they want to take home. I say elusive only because you'd need to be Irish to have it, and then perhaps you might not want it.

Our night at Howth (prounounced "Hooth" by the way) was peaceful, sunny, restful and fun but it is full of Germans and shi-shi cafes. It appears that the actual fishing fleet rather than the abandoned old wooden ones that we saw is very modern thanks to government grants and that they were all out getting Dublin Bay prawns, which apparently are fetching £24 a stone, so just £1.50 per pound, which I don't think is bad. All the boats along this coast are prawn fishers, there is no white fish left here. The fishermen in the Republic have a fairly good fuel subsidy which makes a huge difference to their income. When the Heroine was fishing she would have used about 1500 gallons a week, costing about £3500 in the UK.

There are some very handsome harbour seals in Howth, so I am including a picture of the most photogenic. He has curly hair down the back of his head and with the water it looks like a glossy pommade, a bit like a matinee idol.

Foodie Treats, 19th and 20th July

2006-07-31T21:15:00.000+01:00

It was clear that the old batteries had to be replaced so once the harbour set had charged up the new ones we made our way into Milford Haven harbour. It is a small harbour entrance, as you can see but I was confident that we would make it because that huge bulk carrier had made it in there.

More detail you probably don't need: Being in a harbour would seem an ideal way of avoiding the buckets, but because we are moored on the fish dock it is a half mile walk to the marina lavatoires on the smart side of the harbour and, of course, half a mile back. So, we are, ahem, bucketing for later disposal for the most part, but going to the showers in the mornings is essential.

To add to the discomfort we bought a new set of batteries and had to remove the old ones. Bearing in mind that it takes two strong Welshmen to lift one battery, getting the old set up the vertical ladder from the engine room and out through the deckhouse was horrid. We are in the middle of a heat wave and there are no sea breezes in harbour to cool us. Getting the new ones on board was hard too, especially getting them down the vertical concrete wall of the fish dock which is about 15 feet without spilling the acid out of them. Other things we did during this time was a complete engine oil change and a gearbox oil change. This meant shifting vertically about 200 kg of oil in large plastic barrels. Thank goodness we had the showers in the marina. During this time though, without electricity we had no water for hand-washing on board and had to rely on travel wipes. One of the comforts we found was the launderette and with the washing line strung on the fore-deck we look like real trawler-trash.

The fish dock at Milford is part of the route of what is almost a passeigata. People bring sandwiches to come and watch us work on deck, lifting huge amounts of machinery in the mid-day sun. Young boys stop and ask if we are still using her for fishing and get a cuff around the ear. Friendly folk, in particular a Scottish fisherman Henry who belongs at Eyemouth and recognised Heroine as being an Eyemouth native herself. He is looking forward to seeing us there. There were many chaps with dogs who walked by several times a day, to see what progress we had make. Everyone was keen to talk about wooden fishing boats. We even had a visit from two dock policemen, who said it was nothing to worry about, just a routine visit. So they sat in our canvas directors chairs on the aft deck for an hour, drank tea and ate our chocolate chip biscuits and talked about property prices, how good the Poles are as workers and what we were planning to do with the boat. All very lovely.

I was woken in the morning by the pungent smell of Diesel and found Tim on the aft deck where we could see red Diesel flooding off the back of the huge trawler in front of us. Apparently whilst re-fueling the crew had switched the wrong lever over. Very soon, the dock officials turned up and began throwing what looked like A4 photocopier paper into the dock and asked us to join in, kindly supplying us with big packs of same. It was then that we found out that they were special absorbent mats, that cost about £90 per two dozen. As you can see from the pictures they were throwing them into the water with abandon.

The leaky trawler was replaced by Mercurious; a dirty but dashing 25m beam trawler and I took the advantage of their presence to see if they wanted to sell us some fish. I was hoping there might be scallops which are never fresh away from the boats instead they very kindly gave us a carrier bag full; two whiting, two dover sole (Lenny's favourite "black" sole) and two very handsome plaice. They would take no money from us. As Mercurious roared away out to sea again, the deck-hand who had given us the fish shouted to remind us to leave the plaice for a day as they need to "hang" for a bit.

That night we ate the whiting and the dover sole, fried quickly in almost no oil, on their own with a little salt and lemon. No wonder people say they don't like fish when the stuff you get in fish fingers, frozen fish, fish from even the best fish-mongers is so old it actually smells and tastes fishy. Our catch was sweet and meaty and savoury, with only the iodine tang of the sea as a reminder of where it came from. So, thank you, Mercurious and your crew for an educational and inspiring gastronomical experience.

Everyone should eat fish this fresh, it is a crime that restaurants charge real money for flesh that should have been thrown away a week ago. Thinking about it, the beam trawler is a bit different because it seems to goes out day by day but other deep water boats spend up to 10 days at sea. Even if a fish were caught on the last day, that's 24 hours before it lands. Then add a day for local sales, a day or two by refigerated lorry to reach the fish markets such as Billingsgate. Two or three days there until it gets into the restaurant or fishmongers fridge where it sits until we mugs come along and buy it, after it has been dead for at least a week, and it could be nearly three weeks.

Milford Haven itself really is a haven for good food - we had an excellent dinner at Charthouse, perfectly spiced fish cakes with very fresh crab (not advertised!) , would suit any palate, hot and sweet dipping sauce. Bass, fresh as a daisy (probably just off Mercurious) in chives and ginger, vegetables succulent, full of true earthy taste and each seasoned differently. Fabulous local cheese board, I only wish I could remember the names of the cheeses but it's a enjoyable task to look forward to for next time.

Coming to Milford was always anticipated as a small gourmet pilgrimage because Mr. Evans up in the town produces the best rib-steak we have ever eaten. This includes the skipper's own home-grown, organic Welsh Black, and it takes a good steak to win that kind of comparison. Mr. Evans shop is worth the journey and his bacon is excellent too. His house bangers are the best I've ever had, even better than the famous "Simply Sausages" in Smithfield market. I should say that they are lean, meaty and porky with fresh sage and other herbs and unusually not over-salty. "An excellent sausage".

I got talking to a couple outside Evans and they told me that the place to get ham in MF was up the hill at another butchers. This apparently is where all the Italian and Spanish trawlermen (and there are many, but let's get political later) get their ham. It was a bit of a schlep up the hill but the rewards were great. They sell top-notch parma ham and slice it there and then. When I asked how much it was he told me it was 6 pounds a pound, when I said I'd take a pound he asked me if I was sure. No, I'm not sure now, typing this I know I should have got two pounds.

Dale Bay - Tuesday and Wednesday 18th and 19th

2006-07-31T21:12:00.000+01:00

It is equally true on sea as on land that if you have a back-up system you are never likely to need it, and if you don't, then you surely will. So, I suppose that now the harbour set generator does not work we should not have been surprised when Murphy's little sea-pixies croaked the alternator on the main engine within 24 hours as well. So, we woke up at Dale with flat batteries, no way of generating power. no way to start the main engine, or the harbour set and no way to raise the anchor; a dead ship.

Fortunately we had already ordered another alternator and just needed to pick it up in Milford Haven. So we launched the dinghy and set off up the main shipping channel, past all the huge oil jetties and into the harbour. The wind was strong so the sea was rough and choppy and although the boat is 3m long, sitting in the front feels like being bumped downstairs on your bum while someone throws buckets of sea water over you. Most of the waves are caused by the huge tankers charging up and down the channel and brutish work boats and patrol launches. I must say we were looked after well by the harbour police who came alongside our bouncing dinghy to see what sort of people would choose ordeal by washing machine. They were kind when they understood that we were coming in for spares and not just beer.

Despite the last year's work the boat is still dirty: a mixture of rust, diesel, hydraulic oil and 35 years worth of frying over every single surface that has made her a vile and sticky place in the heat and we were faced with the prospect of installing the new alternator in a totally dark and filthy engine room. We decided to fit the good alternator to the harbour set because it is a hand-start engine, a dirty, smelly and leaky machine, but lovable for its sheer utility and reliablity. Between us holding torches and trying to marry up bolts and holes the alternator was in place in a couple of hours but we could not be sure that it would work until we started it when we hoped the indicator lamp would go out. After some perspiration-drenched windings of the handle the generator leapt into noisy action - and the final test - the initial glow held, then faded and went out. Such happiness.

All we needed to do the next day was the same again, down to Milford Haven in the dinghy which I am beginning to hate and home again, jiggety-jig

Programme tonight on BBC 1 Monday 31st July

2006-07-31T09:46:00.000+01:00

We will be dashing back from the boat to the B&B to get cleaned up so we can watch "Trawlermen" tonight.

Oxwich to Dale - Monday 17th July

2006-07-30T21:02:00.000+01:00

The main engine would not start, so we fired up the Lister, the auxilliary generator, known as a "harbour set" but soon discovered that the new alternator we had installed back at Sharpness was a duffer. So, flat main batteries and no means of generating power. Fortunately with the sense hard won through experience, Skipper had bought a full spare set of new batteries at the very last minute, they were connected to the main battery using jump leads and the big Cat sauntered into life, leaving is the alternator problems for later in the day.

So, we were underway again, with the sun shining, the water a glassy film around us. The Severn has widened into the Bristol Channel and we feel that we are really at sea now, for the first time. I will leave all the glorious descriptions of a perfect summer's day on the water to greater writers than me, esp those what know the grammar, there is no point trying to paint a picture with words when Mr. Turner did it so brilliantly with paint.

Just to spoil the beauty of this scene - and for those of a tender disposition who do not enjoy the less lovely details of the quotidien please look away now. The sea bog has broken; as of day one in fact, not that it was ever great, it needed pumping full of water and then pumping out afterwards, but now there is nothing, just a bucket. At least there is a bucket each.

In the afternoon the mirror calm continued and with a light frothy mist on the horizon it felt like being in the Mediterranean. Skipper's No. 2 son (our temporary powder monkey) made the best of the weather to top up his tan and catch up on some reading; "Supernature" by Lyall Watson is being read by a new generation. Heroine surged through the water, leaving a beautiful white wake. About half way to Dale we had some visitors, about 15 black and silver-grey dolphins (we now know were "Common Dolphins") came to play in the bow-wave. Skipper's son and I both raced to the bow to lean over to watch them, and amazingly we saw them, one by one, turn to swim on their sides so they could see us looking at them. Seeing this kind of thing on television is one thing, but having some large wild animal meet you eye to eye feels like a priviledge. I was wondering how we might ingratiate ourselves with them and wished we had some spare fish, but what would be the point? They can get all the freshest fish they could want.

However, to offer a townie view, it is true that being at sea simplifies life to concerns about how dry one's bed is, food, water, and of course, the bucket. This has the effect of releasing the mind and mine has gone away on holiday, probably to a small, chic health resort in France.

Our next visitors were on a fast, black, and rather sinister patrol boat for the artillery range through which we had been making our way, who politely but firmly told us that the huge explosions we could hear were shells being fired into the area and would we go away.I hope they never hit any of the dolphins, but it could explain why there was no other sea traffic in the area..ahem.

In the evening at Dale, a lovely bay outside Milford Haven the day ended hot and flat calm. In about four dinghy journeys we took on board Skipper's other children, a soon-to-be son-in-law and his parents. Heroine's deckhouse roof is about ten feet off the water and is a great diving platform, somehow we managed to feed 9 people with steak sandwiches, and thank goodness Skipper's daughter's almost mother-in-law brought some huge and meltingly summery, home-made Pavlovas.

The serenity of the peacful anchorage at Dale is sometimes broken by speed boats towing ski-iers up and down, fortunately they stay far enough away not to create anything more than a temporary buzz and distant shrieks of delight. We are anchored in deep water away from the yachts, and because we are so big and dirty no one seems to want to anchor near us. Good. We have seen too many boats all moored up against one another in marinas, and one might as well be sitting in a tiny garden overlooked by all the neighbours.

The sea was like the Mediterranean sea can be, barely a crest but smooth shining curves. Our visitors left just before dusk and in the peace that followed the sea was like mercury, reflecting the sky and leaving a dark yacht in the distance almost suspended in nothing where the horizon disappeared.

2006-07-28T09:08:00.000+01:00

We woke early and saw dawn in Oxwich bay, far too early for dog walkers and enough heat in the dawn sun to promise another hot day. After a bit of a lie-in, we launched the dinghy and we went to the beach, gentle rolling waves and warm water but slightly un-nerving to be zooming away from Heroine towards land. Oxwich Bay is worth going to see and it was such a perfect day I decided to swim back to the boat. This was a lovely long stretch but as I got towards Heroine the tide across the inner bay was a bit much, something like 5 miles per hour which my stately breaststroke could not counter, so I got a lift the last 50 yards from the dinghy. Oxwich Bay is beautiful in contrast to most people's opinion of South Wales and the Bristol Channel.

Steaming Uphill

2006-07-28T08:55:00.001+01:00

Sunday 15th July 2006
The sun beat down on us as we cast off our lovely new mooring lines and motored into the Sharpness lock. The previous lot had been thick, dirty and stiff and impossible to throw. Heroine seemed to surge towards the sea inside the lock. As the water was let out, we descended into the cool and dank of the mud as a small crowd waited to watch the other boats go out. Sharpness had been a good place to stay, and we were sad to leave.

We waved good-bye to our friend Terry who is working on his slinky, vintage Tremlet fast-cruiser. Terry's hero is a man who wanted to climb Everest and to save the boredom of the lower slopes, planned to land a plane somewhere up near the top. He had saved his money and had got all the equipment together but at the last minute the Nepali government had refused him permission to take off. He ignored their direction and proceeded with the plan, and was never heard of again. I think the point of his heroism is not his failure (although the English seem to have a great tradition of that) but the fact that he kept going when everything seemed to be against him. Terry himself has bought another identical boat, and has perhaps therefore got himself a second Everest to climb.

Instead of a gentle period of slack water when it turns, like most other tidal areas, Sharpness is one of the most extreme tides and there is complete volte face of the millions of tons of water back towards the sea when the tide starts to go out. We were were let out of the lock an hour before high tide which meant that the water was still rushing up-river at about 8mph. Before we turned to face the tide, it hit us side-on, and the whole 90 tons of boat was swerved and rolled by the strength of the water.

Once we were back on course we sat, barely moving forward, fighting the incoming tide, and because we are trying to reduce the vibration from the damaged propelllor, we only made 1 mile in that first hour. This now rather dull spectacle soon lost its appeal for the well-wishers and when they realised that we were not actually stuck on a sandbank and had got tired arms from waving they went home before we were out of sight. Amongst the spectators was a lock official from Fort William (our target at the start of the Caledonian Canal) who apparently is expecting us). Small world.

After being tied up at Sharpness for a year, it was so exciting to be underway again, albeit at a slow rate, and one finds excuses to walk briskly up and down the deck smiling and shouting, perhaps checking fenders and coiled rope, an expression of energetic joy; freedom, adventure, sunshine and good company

As anyone who has read the Patrick O'Brian books, and indeed anyone who has spent the day at the beach, will know that there is nothing like the sea air to sharpen one's appetite. Breakfast had been cereals but for lunch we made the Herione "Banjo", a large roll filled with bacon, mushroom and a fried egg. The name is obvious if you imagine eating one and finding the yolk has run onto your shirt, now you will need to move the hand holding "Banjo" to one side and with the other, briskly strum chest area to remove the yellow goo. I learned this word from my little brother who until recently was in the army. I think he left because they had had enough of him spending the tax payers money inventing new words for savoury cooked snacks instead of killing foreigners.

As the water slides down the boat, looking over the gunwale I can see all the textures of the Severn: standing waves, whirlpools, frothing torrents round piers supporting the bridges. Despite this, how tranquil it was to be on our way to Oxwich, almost surfing now the tide had turned. The sunshine was blazing down, barely a breath of wind and our camp showers warming rapidly on the deck for a clean-up that could not come soon enough. What a contrast to the solid traffic on the bridges above, cars and lorries confined by the tarmac, and for us, the wide open sea leading to the seven oceans and the whole of the rest of the world.

2006-07-11T16:22:00.000+01:00

Now that Heroine is not carrying 10 tons of ice and fish her huge hold is available as accommodation, and attractive it is too, in comparison to the tiny, coffin-like bunks that the crew would have used.

Sleeping in a hammock in the hold is a delight - the gentle movement of the boat sways the hammocks every so slightly, the swish of the waves is a restful soundtrack, the blankets are dry and snug and there is plenty of summer night air wafting softly through the hatches. That is, until it begins to rain at dawn, as it did last Sunday. Apart from losing a good night's sleep, the soaking bedding means no cosy siesta after a hard morning's work. We have now solved the problem by creating a tent, or rather marquee inside the hold using some taped together plastic sheeting.

I have been discussing provisioning with my mother who is a great home economist - running a nurturing household cost effectively as well as being a master of in-transport-vittles. Our usual diet was healthy, based on seasonal produce and little or no nonsense. In contrast, however, during the long car journeys, which seemed to go on for days, to family holidays in Devon, the boredom and fighting (there were six of us in a Beetle) were punctuated by handfuls of unusual and particulary luxurious food that were passed back to us in the rear, from between the front car seats. So, following her advice, it seems that a sea-voyage away from green-grocers and proper food shops is an opportunity to indulge in treats such as corned-beef hash, packet noodles, tinned rice pudding etc. Hoorah for the briney!

STOP PRESS
Our departure has been brought forward, we are now casting off the lines at 10 o'clock ("Ten-Dubs" apparently) on Saturday 15th July, bacon sandwiches and tea for all handkerchief wavers.

Photograph - Skipper Reading Property Pages in Hammock

Still at Sharpness, for another two weeks

2006-07-04T11:56:00.000+01:00

I am baking ship's biscuits and salting the horsemeat in preparation for our voyage to take Heroine back to where she was made, for a huge renovation. As the crow flies, it's not far, but from Sharpness Dock in Gloucestershire to Eyemouth in Scotland is about eight hundred miles by sea, whichever way you go. For a sea-novice like me, experience of long journeys on ferries even in rough seas is no help when navigating yourself through the whirlpools of Corryvrekan, the huge tidal movements of the Severn and at the same nursing along an ancient engine that has steamed the equivalent of going around the world 50 times since new.

The boat is a 35-year-old, 22 metre trawler, built for fishing in the Shetland Islands and so had to be made strong ; massive oak frames and inches-thick larch planking. Walking around down in the fish-hold feels like being inside the Victory, except we have loads more head room and fewer cannons. There is something very reassuring about the tree-thick oak curving around like a medieval barn, except upside down, but the holes in the deck and the wheel house that you can actually see through are disconcerting. All of this is through the eyes of the non-seafarer; I have had to put my faith in my co-owner's experience and abilities, without him this adventure would not happen. However, without me, his bacon sandwiches wouldn't happen.