Can I cruise my dinghy yet?

The myriad things to be done before the dinghy is ready to cruise.

A small item:  the anchor.

The boat came with a folding fisherman,  with no rode,  and a folding grapnel with 2m of chain and enough line.

The old chap doesn't trust either of these,  but he had a Danforth with 3m of chain which he knew was reliable (if dangerous to fingers).

He knew because it had held the West Wight Potter in a violent overnight thunderstorm on the Stour when the rode was bar taut and dead straight.
That thunderstorm had been a beast.
He'd been reading in the well as the evening drifted toward dusk and the sun sank over Essex.   At first he'd thought the flashes to the South were the electric trains between London and Harwich (the ones that serve the North Sea ferries out of Parkeston Quay) but they became too frequent and too bright   The constant low rumbling should have been a hint but then the wind began to rise and the rain began to fall.   By midnight the rain was torrential,  the wind screamed in the rigging and the thunder & lightning were continuous.   He peered out of the tiny cabin at the glittering mud on the North bank and tried to guess how hard the little boat would be driven onto it when the rode failed;   would he be able to crawl through the mud to firm ground?
As the dawn sun struggled through the cloud the thunder still rumbled away to the East and North.

But;  back to that small item,  the anchor.

Simple.   Unshackle the grapnel,  cut the rode from the Danforth and shackle the two chains together.   Except that the shackle on the grapnel was a block of rust and had to be cut away from the anchor with a hacksaw.   The old fool cut the bow (in two places) and then found that the pin section would not pass through the link of the chain.   So then he had to saw through the pin.   We won't mention the complication of holding it all still because the shackle was too small to be held in the vice.

The shackle on the Danforth chain was bronze,  so not rusted,  but it took half an hour with WD40 and a shackle key to move the pin.   And then it wouldn't fit through the links of either chain.   The ditty box supplied a smaller shackle which did fit.   But,  being stainless steel,  it will,  one day,  fail without warning.

A 15 minute job became 2 hours of frustration.

The old man hates shackles,  and he hates Monel wire even more.

Which is why his mainsheet blocks are attached to the boom and the traveller with selvagee strops:  simple,  reliable,  replaceable bits of cordage.

So why didn't he replace the anchor chain shackles with strops?

Sandweaver 16

The LS has bought another boat.

Sandweaver 16

He had become too old and fat and lazy for the Hobie Tandem Island.   It was an exciting and fast boat,  but not the coastal cruiser he had hoped for.   He resented the need to find a beach on which to pitch his tent.   Pitching a tent is something to be done overnight,  especially when coastal wild-camping,  and tides simply don't coordinate with day and night.   When cruising the coast in a dinghy it's necessary to sail with the tide,  and anchor,  sleep and eat when the tide is contrary.

So he sold the Hobie to a charming lady in Norfolk who knew exactly where and how she wanted to sail it.   She's about half the age (and girth) of the LS,  with ten times his energy.

The LS has bought a Sandweaver 16.   Sixteen feet (4.87m to you) of fibreglass with (alas) an aluminium Marconi mast and a Bermudan mainsail with roller-furling jib.   It's astonishing how a grown man can dream for so long about a varnished clinker dinghy with a balanced lugsail and then get a Sandweaver 16.   A triumph of common sense over romanticism?

The keel didn't rest on the rollers

One of the essential features of a cruising dinghy is that it can,  unlike most yachts,  be trailed from home to a launch site,  and then taken home from the same,  or another,  launch site.
The trailer,  and the position of the boat on the trailer,  are important.
The weight of the boat should be taken on all of the keel rollers.   The side rollers and slides are there to prevent the boat rocking side to side,  not to take its weight.   At purchase,  the Sandweaver was not fitted to its trailer:  its keel didn't touch two of the rollers  at all,  and its entire weight was borne on the two slides and the forward roller.   A couple of hours of anxious (scary) work with blocks,  jacks and spanners underneath the boat readjusted it all.

Break-back release pin & spring

The boat should be fore and aft on the trailer so that the weight of the tow hitch is about the same as a person:  no more than 7% of the weight of the fully loaded trailer:  in this case 35Kg (95lbs).   With the keel on the rollers the boat moved fore and aft fairly easily,  and the bow snubber of the trailer was adjusted to this.
It's important,  of course that the boat is easy to launch and recover:  a break-back trailer is one of the best ways to achieve this.   The pivot was oiled and the release pin & spring sprayed with easing oil,  and cleaned.   Sadly,  the outer arms of the trailer had been pinched tightly to the draw bar.   Adam advised that spreading the trailer arms might damage them or the weld,  and that it might be better to use the trailer without breaking its back for the time being.

The trailer was tested (to partial destruction) on the A14 and A1 for the Sandweaver's shakedown cruise.   It did not do well,  so it was taken to F S Trailers at Huntindon,  where Paul declared that "the bearings are shot:  the stub axle might be bent".   The tyres and mudguards need replacing,  and he quoted a very reasonable price for freeing the breakback mechanism.

The winch strap was at the wrong angle

The trailer winch,  which hauls the boat onto the trailer,  was in good condition and needed only cleaning and oiling.   The winch strap was sound and the carabiner which links the strap to the boat was not too bad.
But the U bolt in the stem of the boat was in entirely the wrong place,  so that the strain on the winch forced the bows down toward the trailer.   The best place for that U bolt is at the same height as the winch so that the boat is pulled straight onto the trailer.   The angle had caused the U bolt partially to pull out and had caused stress crazing in the fibreglass of the stem.
The U bolt was replaced with an M12 ring bolt through the stem band and stem,  and held with a shaped timber pad,  a large square washer and Nylock nuts.

The boat was described in the advertisement as "ready to sail":  an exaggeration bordering on an untruth.

The end-stop was missing from the mainsheet track,  and the mainsheet had been cobbled together with a set of blocks and jamcleats,  but no traveller car.   The first tack would have brought disaster.   A pair of blocks from the LS's bo's'n's* store and an endstop & car from Force 4 chandlery sorted out the mainsheet.   The shakedown cruise revealed that the mainsheet was a little heavy,  so the 2-part purchase was replaced with 3 parts.

The reefing lines were harder.   The mainsail had cringles for slab reefing,  but the boom had no cheek blocks:  it did have two tube cleats,  but they both faced aft!?   The LG's jury-rig involved 4 lengths of Hempex (and is too embarrassing to be shown in a photograph).
Later,  a pair of cheek blocks was screwed to the after end of the boom and 6mm Hempex used as reefing lines.   They are led forward to tube cleats on the boom.   The two forward reefing lines were led to nylon horn cleats on the mast below the gooseneck.

The main ha'lyard appeared to be OK.
The shrouds are held out by adjustable spreaders,  the ends of which,  being sharp metal and wire,  are covered by plastic or rubber boots to prevent the spreaders tearing or chafing the sails.   The boots had perished and cracked;  they were easily replaced.   

At purchase the jib had a wire luff with a swivel at the peak:  the tack roller lay on the broker's desk and was thrown into the sale.   The boat is now rigged with the Martin-Wykeham furling gear:  it can't be reefed.   A block at the stemhead and a 6mm line from the well through the block to the forestay ensured that the mast could be raised and lowered by one person.

Jib sheet fairlead and camcleat

The jib sheet sliders had been adjusted to be used by crew sitting forward in the boat,  but the LS will usually sail alone.   It was a simple matter to readjust the angle of the camcleats.

Rudder:  screw removed!

For a while the rudder was a mystery.   The vendor had pointed out that the uphaul didn't work:  had the bungee downhaul hardened over time?   No,  it hadn't:  to prevent the rudder floating up someone had driven a screw through the rudder cheeks into the rudder!   With the screw removed,  a spare length of cord as an uphaul and the fairlead moved to provide a fair lead the rudder lifted perfectly.
At the shakedown cruise it became clear that the downhaul bungee cord was not up (?down) to the job.   It was replaced with a downhaul cord and safety-release cleat.
The entire assembly was dismantled and given three coats of varnish.

Stainless steel engine mount
bolted to the stern deck

Electric outboard motor

The bracket for the outboard motor is something that the LS has not seen before.   Even though it's stainless steel it's lighter and smaller than most,  and it can be mounted and dismounted from within the boat.   It holds the Torqeedo 503 perfectly:  the long shaft projects well below the transom so that the propeller is in clear water.   The motor itself,  when not in use,  fits across the stern of the boat forward of the transom,  aft of the thwart.
If one must have an outboard motor an electric machine is a joy.   No petrol or oil,  no plugs to foul, no ignition to fail.   Virtually no noise,  and enormous torque from a big,  slow-turning propeller.

Rope tidies

The boat itself is spacious,  being nearly 2m in the beam,  but has little stowage space.   There are no lockers or lazarettes;  no bins or crates.   It's a day-boat,  with no attempt to provide sleeping space.   Curiously,  there was nowhere to hang lines,  but this was quickly put right with a set of rope tidies from Bayside Marine.   There is no galley,  no pantry,  no heads,  no tent and no bed.
There are two anchors:  one is a grapnel,  which most sailors don't like,  although it does have 2m of chain and 15m of line;  the other is a folding Fisherman,  which the LS doesn't like.   A coastal cruising dinghy is unlikely to anchor in water deeper than 5m (although Margaret Dye would have disagreed) so about 30m of line would be better than the 15m available.
The bo's'n's store has a Danforth anchor with 5m of chain and 50m of line,  but,  having seen a Danforth trap and ruin someone's fingers,  the LS is likely to use this only if nothing else is available. In the event,  he did use it.

There are two thwarts;  one aft at the helm,  the other forward across the centreboard case.   They are nearly 6 feet (2m) apart.   Two six foot planks,  resting on these thwarts,  alongside the side benches,  became an excellent bed.   Even better with the inflatable mattress and a sleeping bag.

*

For those who enjoy apostrophes this is a lovely word:  two sets of missing letters and a possessive!

Those who don't enjoy apostrophes can ignore my glee.

RYA Affiliated Clubs Conference-East

The following was submitted to the DCA Forum this morning:

"Yesterday I attended this Eastern Region RYA conference. 

Some people assumed that I was representing the DCA;  so I kept very quiet. 

Representatives from the local sailing clubs clearly didn't understand the concept of 'cruising,  not racing'. 

The thought of cruising a dinghy for more than an afternoon was obviously alien to them. 

They knew of no cruising dinghies other than the Wayfarer. 

They tended to smile gently,  and move away. 

By contrast,  the RYA is beginning to understand dinghy cruising.   Or,  at least,  pottering about with family and friends with a picnic for the day. 

The RYA doesn't yet know what to do about dinghy cruising,  but it's clear in its collective mind that it must harness members.   It's the only water-borne recreation over which it doesn't yet have some degree of control. 

Robbie Bell,  the Eastern Region Development Officer,  was explicit about his objectives at the conference: 

it's all about recruitment. 

Recruitment for the local affiliated clubs?   Yes,  but as a means of recruiting members for the RYA. 

Did you read Terry Pratchet's "Small Gods"? 

He described the power of a god as the number of people who believed in that god. 

The more believers (members?) the more power. 

The RYA is a not-so-small god;  by accumulating members it accumulates power. 

It genuinely believes that it uses that power for the benefit of sailors of all kinds.   It consults with government over wind farms,  red diesel and the results of Brexit.   It negotiates over the application of SOLAS to small boats and with Trinity House on the positioning of buoys. 

It has training schemes for most kinds of watercraft (except cruising dinghies!). 

When,  I wonder,  will they devise training schemes for dinghy cruising folk? 

Will the schemes be as badly thought-out and constructed as those for yachts? 

What will the RYA do about us?  the DCA? 

John Starkie"

The Dinghy Show

Most people visit a boat show as a punter;  a would-be buyer;  a feeder of dreams;  a voyeur.   They exclaim over the expanses of white fibreglass or polyethylene,  or 'tut' over the effort of scraping and varnishing.   Some imagine themselves gliding over smooth,  sunlit water;  the family smiling and happy,  the picnic basket safe on the bottom boards.   Others live the moment of being first across the start line,  having anticipated the starting gun to the nearest fraction of a second;  and then leading the fleet around the triangle and across the finish line:  to them the glory (however temporary) of the starting and the winning gun.

The stand holders see them as targets;  sources of income.

There are two separate groups of people at boat shows:  those who (however potentially)  have the money,  and those who want it.

Dinghy shows are slightly different.   It's true that stand holders want to sell their wares,  and it's true that the punters are reluctant to part with their money,  except for a bargain.

But the two sides are closer;  it's a little less commercial.

Sailing dinghies are all about racing.  Aren't they?

Look at the polished,  go-fast surfaces.   Look at the plethora of lines for controlling all aspects of air-flow and water-flow.   Look at the exotic materials of which the hulls,  the lines,  the sails,  the rigging,  even the costumes,  are made.   Look at the eager,  competitive,  even aggressive faces of both the sailors and the salespeople.

The West Corridor

In the poorly lit West Corridor of the Alexandra Palace were four sailing dinghies that had,  and wanted,  nothing to do with racing.   Two were Wayfarers,  one belonging to the Sea Scouts,  the other to a commercial group.   Both had two sleeping bags laid in the bottom.   Huh?

On its road trailer was a thirty year old Mirror dinghy,  named Curlew,  which belonged to David.   A gaff-rigged Mirror dinghy!   With a topsail!!   Three rows of reefing nettles in the mainsail and a row in the jib.   The varnish was worn and scuffed;  clearly David spends less time with the sander,   brush and pot than he does with the sheets and tiller.   On the port bow was a business-like Fisherman anchor.   The well of the boat was a vision to disbelieve:   on the starboard side a pair of folding,  ply planks was covered by a thin sleeping mat and a sleeping bag;  on the port side was a box with a cooker,  kettle,  pans and plates;  another box was labelled 'battery 1',  'battery 2',   'bilge pump',  'navigation lights'.   This was a cruising dinghy in which David had explored the South Coast of England for twenty years;  sailing when the wind and tide served;  eating and sleeping aboard when they did not.

Curlew

Next to Curlew was Avel Dro,  also on her road trailer.

She was a 15' (palatial by comparison with Curlew) Ilur,  designed by Francois Vivier after the manner of a French inshore fishing boat.   No varnish here to scuff and repair:  this was a working,  cruising boat.   Here again was the sleeping mat (this time deep and inflated) and sleeping bag;  the tiny cooking stove and galley,  the 12V battery for lights and pumps.   Conspicuous near the centreboard was a modern electronic chart-plotter,  in the sternsheets a Personal Locator Beacon and VHF radio.   The mast,  well forward (to give space inside,  as befits a fishing (and cruising) boat) was unstayed,  the rig a standing lug.   Roger had sailed the coasts of England,  Wales,  Scotland and France.

Roger was (is still) President of an extraordinary group of people known as the Dinghy Cruising Association;  David is a member,  as were Alastair,  Geoff,  John and Mike,  who had not brought their boats.

These people were not there to sell;  they were there to evangelise their way of life;  to wax lyrical and lengthy about their adventures cruising the coasts of Britain,  Europe and the world.   Their listeners were legion;  there was hardly a moment in the two days of the show when a sailor didn't say  to them "We used to have a Mirror.   Wish we hadn't sold it!".   There was always someone asking about where to cruise,  what cooker was best,  how to modify their dinghy,  what clothing to wear.

In this poorly lit West Corridor,  close to the main entrance,  there was only one group of people,  not two.   The stand holders and the public were all dinghy cruisers.   The stand holders had cruised tens to thousands of miles,  for days to weeks at a time;  the public were avid,  excited,  would-be cruisers,  many having never realised that a dinghy could be other than a racing machine.   A few were frankly disbelieving (especially of David's Mirror),  but eager to learn.

And not just the punters.   The leaders of sailing clubs,  those bastions of hard-core racing,  were keen to learn to cruise.   They wanted links,  and they offered to host cruising rallies at their sailing clubs.