Boating for pleasure

Husband writes: I love boats. Always have. I joined the Navy when I was 18 and even that didn’t put me off. My first foray into ‘boating’ was when my Dad picked up a couple of old, leaky canoes and we spent a good while in the garage, stinking of resin and coughing up fibreglass. Eventually they were ready to hit the water and, miraculously (sorry Dad!), they floated. Even the 3’ of ½” timber glassed into the keel to stop the thing flexing like a warm Caramel bar worked a treat.

Between then and now I’ve been on/in a fair variety of boats. I was ship’s company on HMS Ark Royal (I was occasionally allowed on the bridge, but under strict orders to not touch anything - I was aircrew after all). I sailed the Canary Isles on a 55’ Nicholson (as foredeck crew, again presumably to put me as far away as possible from anything breakable). I had a few forays on a Contessa 38 until the skipper banned me. Apparently the sound of me retching over the leeward rail, right above his bunk, all the way across the Channel kept him awake.

I even had a command for a while - The Commodore’s Barge at Rosyth. Don’t laugh - for a  time it was the fastest boat on the River Forth. Unfortunately speed didn’t help when the Commodore lost his cap overboard and I managed to stall an engine during the attempted recovery. The Commodore looked on stony faced as I plowed into the jetty and his cap sank without a trace.

So as you can see, I love boats. But they don’t necessarily agree with me.

Obviously history was never going to quash my love of boats, so here we in a boaters paradise and it’s time for a first foray into ownership. The first opportunity arose a couple of weeks ago over a beer. One of the loan service RAF blokes is leaving soon and was trying to sell his 16’ sailing catamaran. Ideal! A cheap way to get on the water, have some fun with the kids and keep the sailing juices flowing until the lottery win and the 50’ cruiser. So a deal was done.

Following on behind came another unexpected opportunity. A colleague at work had found the perfect family motor boat and wanted someone to share the costs. A 26’ catamaran, 200hp outboard, bags of space, well looked after. So another agreement was reached.

At last, this week, the dream of having our own boat (2 in fact) was about to come true. First to get the 16’. I met V down at the beach to learn how to rig and launch the boat. We went out for a sail and everything went perfectly. After an hour or so we headed for the beach and the final hand over. We dropped the foresail so I could sail single handed as Bear donned her brand new buoyancy jacket, grinning from ear to ear. Finally we waved V off and and pulled the boat back into the water.

Just as I was lifting Bear onto the boat, not 2 minutes after V had left, there was a slight ‘ping’ and the mast and mainsail dropped gracefully over the side.

Next came the handover of the motor cat. T and I decided we’d take the boat out ourselves and get properly acquainted before we risked the lives of our families to our dubious nautical experience. A good job we did too.

We launched smoothly, gracefully slipping from the trailer and heading out to sea at a stately 8 kts. A mile out we decided the engine was nicely warmed and it was time to see what she would do.

2000rpm......2500.........3000.........cough......cough...........splutter............silence.

The next 45 minutes was spent trying to get it started again. We tried every combination of choke in, choke out, spare fuel tank, spare fuel feed line, engine primed, throttle open, throttle closed, all to no avail. Thankfully the spare engine started with a quick tug, so every 10 mins or so we would flash it up, head away from the rocks the wind was blowing us towards, then shut it down and reconnect the fuel to the main engine to try again.

Alas, we couldn’t get the damned the thing started. Our maiden voyage ended with us chugging back at 5 kts on the little 30hp spare. I sat on the swim deck keeping the manual throttle open while Thierry steered with the trailing main engine. Co-ordinating throttle and steering to get back on the trailer was an evolution we definitely need more practice at, but we managed without major injury to the boat or personnel.

So now we are the proud owners/co-owners of two boats, neither of which has a reliable primary means of propulsion.

My experience with boats looks fated to continue repeating itself. Updates to follow.

Summer has officially arrived............and it’s a strange affair. Throughout May the temperature was slowly creeping up, but as it was only a degree or so at a time it kind of went unnoticed. Right up to the point that you left the house, walked through the pizza oven and got into the car.

Just when we thought it would just keep getting hotter, until the birds fell from the trees ready cooked and nasal hair crinkled with each breath, June arrived. May ended with an official 51°C (55°C indicated on the car). The following morning, the temperature had dropped to a paltry 37°C and all was well. Right up to the point you left the house, walked through the turkish bath and got into the car.

37°C isn’t bad, but allied to 75% humidity, it gets a little uncomfortable. Walking from the car to the aircon comfort of the shopping mall you see people everywhere doing the expat shuffle - trying to look cool and in control whilst glancing over the shoulder to check for dark patches in the butt cleft. The blokes add a little shimmy to ‘free-up the boys downstairs’ and the women heft the handbag a little higher and glue their arms to their sides.

The rest of June has been a mixture. Some days the hot, dry desert air wins the battle and some days it’s the cooler, moist sea breeze. Throwing back the curtains you can get a pretty good idea of what to expect. If you can see the garden but not the mountains it’s hot and dusty (floppy hat and factor 50). If you can’t see the garden it’s condensation on the outside of the windows and it’s going to be a drippy day (double deodorant and baggy shorts).

Apparently this to and fro lasts about a month before the sea breeze wins and holds sway for July and August. Come September, it starts all over.

One unusual aspect of the hot weather is the tap reversal, and it takes some getting used to. The ‘cold’ water tank is on the roof and as a result gets mighty hot. The ‘hot’ water tanks are inside, in 24°C air-conditioned comfort (with the immersion heater switched off). You end up turning on the cold tap for your shower, then adding hot to cool it down. For the first couple of weeks of the really hot weather, as people make their bleary-eyed way to the bathroom,  I imagine I can hear the yelps of surprised expats echoing around the city as a counterpoint to the morning call to prayer.