There was a time when heads were simple.

A plank across the bows,  with circular holes.   Convenient in many ways.   Every time the ship dipped its head into the sea the fouling would be washed away,  both from the ship and,  presumably,  the men.   In those days sailors were almost all men.

These days the heads are much more complicated,  and they are hidden away in a tiny cubby hole below decks.

At home,  you press the button,  or the handle,  and your drinking water flushes away your waste.   On board,  you need to open seacocks,  move the lever,  operate the pump,  move the lever again,  pump again.

At home,  the system rarely blocks.   If it does,  you call a plumber and she sorts it out.   On board,   almost anything will block the heads;  the mantra has it "if you haven't eaten it,  don't put it down the heads".   The worst culprits are 'wet wipe' type things;  because they are made of cotton (or similar) they don't disintegrate in water or in the pump.   They wrap themselves around the valves,

 and they get trapped in the limescale in the pipes.   The pipes are narrower than those at home and they get blocked.

The 'limescale' is interesting (to a chemist!).   Human urine contains urate ions;  being associated with hydrogen,  sodium and potassium ions they stay dissolved.   Sea water contains calcium ions.   When urine mixes with sea water the calcium ions and urate ions combine to form calcium urate,  which is insoluble;  if left for any time in the waste pipes it precipitates on the walls of the waste pipes and gradually narrows them.   Over time the waste pipes become too narrow to pass anything that is not liquid.   Especially 'wet wipe' type things.   Less pleasant stuff,  too.

One answer,  of course is to flush properly.   The problem is partly that noise carries very well throughout a boat;  everyone can hear you pumping the heads,  especially at night.   So people tend to pump two or three times and then leave it.   It also leaves most of your waste still in the waste pipes,  where it accumulates,  settles and precipitates.   If everyone pumped 25 times (the recommended procedure) everything would end up in the sea and the pipes would be cleaned out (and everyone on the boat would be wide awake!).

When the heads become blocked you don't call a marine plumber;  do they even exist?   You leave it to the skipper.   When you own your own boat (or become a skipper of Nancy Blackett) you very quickly learn to strip down the marine heads and flush out the valves and pipes.

It's a nasty job,  but someone has to do it.

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.

Humanure

July 2015

It might have started 60 years ago when George Humphris said something about "starving the drains of water".   Sewers need a flow of water,  at a slight angle downward from horizontal,  to keep things moving along.   There had been a drought for weeks,  and a radio personality,  Ted Moult, talked about putting a brick in the WC cistern to save water:  Prince Phillip had made a comment about using two gallons of drinking water to flush away a pint of urine or half a pound of faeces.

George Humphris was,  for a while,  a dairy farmer.   His cattle produced milk,  urine and faeces.   The first he sold,  of course;  there was a great demand.   But the second and third were not waste products:  they were a valuable resource which kept his land fertile and the grass growing.

At one time lavatorial flushing water was drained into the sea,  without any treatment.   Now (2015) it's settled to remove the solids,  oxygenated to remove as many chemicals as possible,  chlorinated to kill pathogens and then recycled as drinking water.   It has been said that the Thames passes through seven people before it gets to the sea.   (In Cambridge the effluent is pumped into the River Cam whence it drains directly into the sea.)

Even so,  we end up drinking chlorine;  enough progesterone (excreted by women taking contraceptive pills) gets past the purification process that record numbers of British men are being feminized,  partially sterilized and getting gynecomastia.

To paraphrase Joseph Jenkins "Why do we still defaecate into our drinking water?"

On a visit to Sweden in the 1960s John and Margaret were given tea by a young man building his own house.   He had built into the house a "waterless lavatory".   The concept struck a chord in two people interested in sanitation,  sewerage,  and compost! It's all about bacteriology.

Then,  fifty years later,  the "flushing" lavatory on the narrowboat began to give up.   In reality,  its waterpipes had become furred with limescale,  and it no longer rinsed the bowl properly.   If the pump pressure was increased,  the pipe joints tended to part:  if the pressure was reduced,  the lavatory would not rinse properly!

Its plywood plinth had begun to disintegrate and looked nasty.

There was no way to know how clean (or,  more accurately,  how unclean) the holding tank had become.   It was tedious to empty and to rinse.

The problem was not helped by a tenant who never learned to use it properly.

Surely there was a better way?

Several subscribers to the Wooden Boat Forum had begun to write about "waterless closets" and "composting toilets".

And then there was the Humanure Handbook by Joseph Jenkins

Chapter 8 (The Tao of Compost) described in detail how to build and maintain a waterless toilet,  and how to compost human manure and urine for use in the garden.

It should be noted that urine from a healthy person is sterile:  it contains no bacteria,  pathogenic or otherwise.   Shortly after excretion,  bacteria from the air contaminate stored urine and use the nitrogenous chemicals for their own growth.   The infected urine smells,  often strongly.

Faeces from a healthy person,  by contrast,  is full of (one might say almost entirely composed of) bacteria.   They have turned undigested food into a state suitable for elimination from the body.   Of the 400 or more species of bacterium present most are perfectly harmless in the bowels of the person from which they came,  but some of them are dangerous,  even deadly,  in the mouth and stomach of the same person or other people.

StJohn is a keen kayaker and canoeist;  he has been a keen climber.   He often camps in wild places,  and carries a small trowel to dig a hole for his faeces:  all wild campers do this.   Covered with a layer of soil and grass,  no faeces are visible to offend the eyes;  no smells escape to offend the nose.   More than that,  many of the micro- and mini- beasts in the soil enjoy the nitrogen and digest the faecal bacteria,  destroying the pathogens along with all the others.   These beasts include beetles,  worms,  fungi and soil-bacteria.   Within days the buried faeces have been consumed and anything which remains is humus;  that black gold for which gardeners build and maintain compost heaps.   By burying them,  StJohn and his wild-camping friends compost their faeces.  Their sterile urine simply soaks into the ground:  its fluid waters the plants and its nitrogen nourishes them.

Compost,  and its main constituent,  humus,  are valuable resources.   If our faeces and urine can be turned into compost why do we use drinking water to flush them to waste?

Perhaps the answer to the narrowboat question was a dry toilet,  similar to that described by Joseph Jenkins?

August 2015

A single 25L plastic bucket arrived from Amazon.   £8.55

The instructions say that 4 are needed,  but let's start with one.

The seat came from B&Q.         £12.50

Needed to be chosen carefully,  as not all seats are flat underneath.

None of them have supports which can be twisted.   Cut off one of the pins and turn them.

The hinges also came from B&Q.

Plywood from Ridgeons. 3/4" (18mm) birch exterior ply.    Wow!     £86

It arrived on Friday,  and was cut into the right sized pieces within an hour or two.
More than half left over for another project,  so,  say £30?
Construction ply would have done the job and would have been cheaper.

A flour scoop came from Amazon (actually,  from China).

It took two days to assemble and paint.

Sawdust is not easy to get,  but compost (astonishingly) is free.   Nip up the A10 to Amey Cespa's recycling place,  turn left at the first roundabout,  then right at the second and help yourself!

Margaret volunteered to try it in her bathroom.
She said it was very comfortable:  just the right height.
She used it almost exclusively for five days.   No offensive sights or smells,  and no flies.   The only smell is the slightly earthy,  natural smell of the compost.
When the bucket was full,  it was emptied into the outdoor compost bin.  Then the whole thing was moved into the instigator's bathroom.   He,  too,  found it comfortable and easy to use,  and used it exclusively for over a week.

Only when both Margaret and John are happy will the system on the narrowboat be changed.