1. The Mawson effect
When the wind gets to about 20 knots, it whines and whistles through the rigging. Even if it is a warm, sunny day and we are tied up at a nice safe marina on inland waters, a vague unease overtakes me and I feel as if I might actually be in Mawson’s hut. As Moonraker herself won’t get out of bed for less than 20 knots and she is cruises at 35 knots, this makes me an irrational wimp.
2. The cuts, bruises and abrasions
I look like a battered wife, and to be fair and non-sexist about this, Dean looks like a battered husband. The main culprits are:
· winches: why are they strategically placed in the middle of the cockpit entry and therefore magnets to backs and hips when the boat is bouncy?
· lockers and tables in the saloon and other cabins : too close together to get past without extreme slinkiness, causing damage to shins, thighs and hips
· cleats: designed to capture and hold fingers
· sheets, halyards and docking ropes: designed to tear off fingernails and strips of skin
· the sun and wind: designed to wrinkle the skin if not burn it off all together, or encourage skin growths that are best unsightly and at worst fatal
· psychological trauma… numbers 3 to 5 see below
3. The first commandment of cruising
The first commandment of cruising is that something will break on a cruising yacht every two weeks if you are not sailing and every two days if you are. This creates nervous anticipation, which in turn generate trauma. What will go next? This week we were sailing, so we got two breakages: the hot water system sprang a spectacular leak onto the engine, and the reinforcement on the genoa near the stays frayed. Not so scary.
But next week it might be the mast or the engine?
4. No brakes
Moonraker is hard to drive in close quarters and at slow speed. She is very responsive to wind, and her bow will waltz off to leeward in company with any little breeze if given the chance. Conversely, she has a fairly full keel, which means that she is slow to turn and the devil to back. When she does deign to move backwards in response to much revving of the engine, she is unpredictable, acting like a skittish colt with the classic keel-boat prop-walk to port. Paradoxically, the keel is as responsive to tides and currents as it is unresponsive to the engine. The keel acts like a giant sail to the tidal winds. Any current will either take Moonraker’s stern off in the direction of the current, OR sometimes the keel will start sailing into the current. Go figure. A 1 knot current has the same power and effect on the keel that that a force 4 wind has on the bow, but the keel won’t necessarily signal what direction it will go.
And she has no brakes. We don’t (apparently) approve of bow thrusters. After all, they can break and don’t encourage good seamanship. Further, Moonraker weighs in at 15 tonnes. It is not an option to use arms or legs to fend off an upcoming pylon, boat or pontoon, unless you are happy to lose the limb. Pulling and tugging on ropes has its limits too unless you are a sumo wrestler. Moonraker tends to win tugs-of-war.
If you actually want to go to somewhere in particular, the only option is to keep going fast to maintain steerage, and point in a direction (unknowable) that allows the particular tides, currents and wind (and don’t forget waves) on that day to do their thing in concert with the keel, bow, motor or sails. So the ‘routine’ entry and exit of our pen at the marina is fraught, especially when the there is a full tidal effect pushing the keel, a 25 knot wind abeam taking the bow, an engine pleasing its self, a pen about 3 feet wider than the boat, and the front of the pen 1 foot from where we need to stop the boat. Precisely.
The head
I have a superb sense of smell. I hate bad wine and marine toilets. Our marine toilet is not unusually complex. It has a bowl, two macerators, a holding tank and good knows how many inlet and outlet valves, pumps and hoses. It uses salt water to flush. Salt water is actually a rich organic soup of living creatures, most of which can’t be seen by the human eye. When the creatures get sucked into the complex bowels of a marine toilet, they partner with bacteria in the system and soon (within as little as 6 hours if conditions are warm, dark and comfortable) we have a noxious brew of foul odours and forbidding colours. This calls for a complex ritual that involves incantations, magic brews, flushings, a particular cocktail of bleach and vinegar applied to the head, plus a further restorative mix of ethanol plus flavours applied to the owner of the head.
Suburban plumbing has its strengths.
Authors Note: Don’t get me wrong. There are heaps of things I love about crusing too. As soon as I can remember what they are I’ll write about them.
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