I won’t be beaten!

I’ve taken a mitfaher (share ride) from Amsterdam to Berlin to pickup my sailing books, additional clothes and my long lost bank card, so I can withdraw what little money I have left. I realised last night that it’s the first time I’ve slept in a real bed since the beginning of May, and the luxuries of a house are rather tempting; Many friends within walking distance, Internet, a nice place to sit, no overhead leaks and working stove you can cook on - But don’t worry, I won’t succumb to these ‘contemporary pleasures’, and return back to the boat on Thursday evening to continue the madness.

I’ve got a plan on the boil, and once I’m back in Amsterdam, it will be straight back to the gypsy canals to make some further repairs to the boat.

More info when I’m back, and a few more photos here.

n.

Firstly, I’d like to profusely thank BeforeUdig.co.uk - The company who put up the funds to power Constellation with a brand new offshore cruising sail, made by UK Halsey Sailmakers of Bursledon. I picked up the new sail just days before leaving England, and couldn’t be happier. My old sail was tired and worn, and will now be only used as a backup, should something horrible come of my new one. The new sail has a slight racing leech, and a reduced third reef, which nears tri-sail size. Special thanks to Duane Rogers at Beforeudig.co.uk for believing in what I’m trying to do, offering constant encouragement, and of course for funding an expensive but necessary piece of equipment.

(It has been hard for me so far to keep the narrative of this trip going in any kind of order, since the last couple of weeks were a blur, and my updates have been infrequent and random - This is my attempt over the next few posts to show some order…)

I finished my job at the pub last week, which was a welcome relief. By the end of it, I was tired and anxious to start the trip, and it seemed no matter how hard I worked, I still never had enough money to achieve much at all. I did get things together in the end, but it was trying to say the least. I finished work on a Wednesday, and traveled into London the following day to pickup Johannes and Jack from Victorian station. I had planned to be two hours early, yet to my astonishment, as I walked out of the bus doors, I nearly ran into Johannes, waiting at the bus stop, carrying enough luggage to move house for a family of six. We lugged it all back to the train station, where I met friends from Australia and ate lunch in the nearby park. We eventually met up with Jack, and travelled back to Southampton, loaded to the hilt with equipment. The following day was spent sailing in the Solent, to give Johannes and idea of how Constellation was sailing, and also as an opportunity for Jack to film at sea. I also learnt that I need an outboard.

It was a rush-job on Saturday to get Constellation ready for departure. I was waiting on guardrails to be sent from Compass, we needed to install the wiring and mounts for the autohelm, and I still had to climb my mast again to fix the aerial. The VHF turned into a debacle when the feeding line got jammed at the foot of the mast, however Johannes retrieved it, and the job continued. It was only when I pulled the wiring through the cabin roof did I realise there was nothing wrong with the old aerial at all - There was a BNC connector between the inside cable and the outside cable which had come loose… The moral of the story is, assumptions are fatal… Ok, maybe not fatal, but irritating and stupid.

I had final drinks with my new friends from England, whom I already miss dearly. I think if I had been living entirely alone in the boatyard, without all the wonderful people who also lived there, my experience would have been drastically different. There was always someone to ask a question, borrow a tool from, or just someone to talk to, and it’s to those people I thank immensely for being so kind and generous.

Constellation was ready for departure, and at 5am we left under blue skies. Bill followed in his boat, waking up at such an un-Godly hour just to see us off, and to let Jack film from another vessel while we motored for the last time up the River Hamble. Thank you Bill, you are a true gentlemen, may the sea chickens live on.

Thank you England for everything -

Brighton, Dover, Belgium and Holland in the next post.

nick.

Very special thanks to Stewart for helping cover launch costs; a true gentlemen! Thanks also to Mezzo Man and David, who also donated funds and both hail from the United States. Without their generous help, I couldn’t have launched yesterday, and I wouldn’t be writing today with the news that not only did Constellation launch after all these months, but she floats.

Thanks to Rob, Karin and Al from the boatyard who assisted enormously, whether by helping paint my topsides, to offering advice and tools, and even refuelling my gas canisters for free.

Thank you also to Jack from DNR-Production who flew over from Germany to film and assist. Jack is the first friend I’ve had come and see whether my boat actually exists after all these months, and it was really nice to see a familar face.

Thank you to Jeremy Rogers yachts for sending over a rudder pintle at the last minute, and letting me pay for it next week because none of my credit cards work. Finally, thank you to John and Kelly at Pantaenius for helping me get Constellation insured - The only people who would go beyond the pale in helping me obtain worldwide 3rd party insurance.

The evening before the launch I was still working on the boat, creeping around the hull with a Tesco’s desk lamp, finishing off the paint, and ensuring the skin fittings and new transom pintle were secure and water tight. I woke up early, and finally had a chance to see if all my rudder construction was succesful, and I must say, I was fairly proud of myself when it all came together. Thanks Dad for being a wood worker, even though I’m not, because I must have picked something up along the way. The paint was still wet on the cheeks when Constellation launched, and needs another coat, which I’ll need to paint on from a tender in the water. If you look carefully at the photos, you can see the waterline on the rudder still has pink panther pink on it.

Its been an enormous journey finally getting in the water, and now things are really set to start moving along. For almost 12months now, this entire project has been just a concept and a website, however now things have been pushed forward to a new level. The only thing that stops me from going for a sail right this second, is a new starter battery. And I must admit, that feeling is quite intense, because now that I carry my house on my shoulders, I have a new feeling of freedom quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I admittedly have some obstacles in my way, such as money issues, and the fact it would probably not be particuarly safe is I started off tomorrow, but it is the potential that is worth mentioning, and for that feeling to arise, a lot has been sacrificed to get here.

Thank you again to everybody; now the hard work really begins.

Two hours before launch, the rudder still wasn’t on.

“Jaaack… Tell me nothing will go wrong!”

Constellation being backed onto the crane sling platform.

I had to finish off some of the antifouling on the hull while in the sling, and as I was underneath, she slipped (note the rope between to the two slings) and I came very close to moving at the speed of light in utter fear of being crushed. Special thanks to the rope that stops the slings from dropping 3.5tons of boat.

‘Round she goes

Eeek!

The photo set now jumps straight to being moored, because as soon as she was in the water, I was onboard checking the seacocks furiously to see whether water was pooring in. Not a drop, the boat is completely watertight from the bottom (I still have window and cockpit leaks, but they’re above the waterline).

I had a small pontoon party.

Which ended at the Jolly Sailor.

nick.

It’s been a very busy past few weeks, getting used to the live-aboard life, working on Constellation, and starting my new job at the pub. It’s nice to have some money finally, although I still live week by week, having spent the last pay packet on tools so I could actually start work.

I’ve scored a tin of cheap black antifoul, and decided to paint the topsides while she’s out of the water, and I have some time. The colour scheme is dark red on top, with a black hull and no water line. I’ll also varnish the toe-rails and maybe do the deck after the launch. Right now, all my focus is on repairing anything that cannot be done in the water, which includes my newly found problem of the week: A rotten rudder. I have some regular pub-patrons on the hunt for large slabs of teak for me, which I will (with the help of a friend in the yard) replace the existing ply slabs with, and varnish. If there is no teak to be found, I’ll put marine ply back and fibre glass & paint as per the original. The pintle closest to the prop is also worn, meaning I need to have a local stainless workshop lathe a new one for me… It’s amazing being in one of the biggest sailing regions in the world, because anything can be found, and there are loads of people to lend a hand or offer advice. I’ll post another time on the great help I’ve been getting.

Other jobs include the issue of the cockpit draining into the bilge, which I am going fix with a skin fitting on the transom, and run tubing into two more holes 5inches off of the floor in the cockpit. The theory is, there will only ever been 5inches of water which cannot drain, although if the boat is heeling the majority of it should exit through one of the opposing holes. I’ll then re-route the existing floor drains into a ’switch’ on the bilge pump, so when there is a lot of water flying in, I can switch out the bilge pump and drain the cockpit. I think it’s better than raising the floor at this stage; that’s the theory.

In other news, I really need the help of someone on this website - I have a potential sponsor trying to view the site, but they’re locked into a corporate network running Internet Explorer 6, and as I am on a Mac without the ability to test such things, I’m in trouble because this site is apparently completely broken. So, if there is anyone around who might be able to spare an hour or so tweaking my CSS to run with IE6, I’d be incredibly appreciative - Let me know if I can do something in return.

The launch date is locked in for the 5th of June, and I have a mud berth lined up till August. The launch date is slightly late, but what can I say, I’m doing my best. I have a lot to do still, and painting takes good weather, so I really hope between now and then I get some weather to work in.

Outside of my pub job, I’ve also been assisting on a Fastnet 34 refit, sanding, varnishing and finishing off things around the boat - I’m getting paid about the same as the pub job, and it’s nice to be getting paid for something boat-related.

Apologies on this rather dry post, but I’ve also have a somewhat tumultuous personal life going on in the background, so apologies - I just thought I’d give a quick update on how things going.

I can’t wait to get in the water!

nick.

Funny now, absolutely infuriating at 5am on a Thursday morning. We left the house with quartz precision to catch the plane, and missed a tram by 29 seconds going past the front door. So after a brisk walk to the closest station, we caught the train, got off at Treptower park to catch the S9 to the airport and we were on our way. It was a bit of a nailbiter time-wise, and then some stations started going by that I hadn’t seen before… A quick look at the overhead map revealed our train had changed course for some reason, and panic ensued. I will spare the details, but we missed the plan to England by 15 minutes.

What happens when you miss an Easyjet flight? Well, you have to buy another ticket, and you can’t get a refund. The problem was, even with a new flight, our plans were dashed due to the chain of events that needed to happen, in order for us to be at the boatyard in time to get the keys and open Constellation up before closing time. So, it was thinking time - Do we go, pay for the additional plane and bus tickets, as well as miss the boatyard? After much thought and talking to the Easyjet ‘helpdesk’, we decided to forgoe the entire journey. As it turns out, we could get a refund on the taxes incurred on the flights, which meant around 45% of the total cost… Sincere apologies to Tudor who we had intended to meet at the Duke of York.

So, no diesel repairs, no stanchion hunting, and no cup’o’soups with hot water boiled from tea candles. What a disaster.

I will try and make it down there once I’ve recouped some funds from somewhere, hopefully at the end of the month, or in May. Special thanks to Gerard for sending through some much needed funds!

nick.

The past week goes down in my history books as the fastest week in history. Last Sunday I woke up at 7am and trundled down to Schoenefeld airport for my flight to Malaga, Spain, on route to The Rock of Gibraltar. Since skipping around Europe on budget airlines pretty much lands you anywhere in one hour, it was a rather lengthy flight at around three hours. How I flew from Australia is beyond me. I’m now a spoiled Europrat.

I arrived in Malaga, flawlessly found a bus into town, booked another to La Linea and admired the Spanish coast for another three hours. I also found out I could speak perfect Spanish:

Spaniard: Ola!
Me: Ola!
Spaniard: [Something said really fast]
Me: Uno Momento!
Spaniard: [Waiting…]

Me: Gracias, ciao ciao! [Turn and run]

So, as you can imagine, I speak flawless German aswell.

View from Gibraltar marina

I stayed a night in La Linea, and then walked to the Trafalgar Sailing school. Gibraltar is the first country where as long as the border patrol see you have something made out of paper in your hand, it must be a passport and you’re whisked through the gates. Gibraltar is also the first country I’ve been to that insists you walk across an active runway before entering the country. Since the entire place is more or less a large rock, they had to place the runway on the only flat part left, which incidently is the bit connected to Spain.

I arrived and walked around a little before meeting everyone at Trafalgar Sailing. We were briefed aboard the boat we we’d be sleeping and sailing for the week, a shiny new Bavaria 37.

I must admit, walking onto such a boat in comparison to mine, is a little like sleeping a night under a leaky tent made out cardboard, and then walking into the penthouse at a Hilton hotel the following morning. We could have spent the entire six days just getting instruction on how to use the DVD player.

The weather was beautiful at around 20c, with the first day spent getting to know the boat and assessing everyones skills. One of the great things about sailing in and around Gibraltar is you get to experience what it’s like sharing the sea with super tankers. You think 37 feet of boat is pure spatial luxury until you see a tanker at night showing lights which can be decoded as ‘over fifty meters in length and steaming’ - well set for a collision course. You also share the space with powered catamaran ferrys and fishing vessels. If you’re learning to sail, I see these things as big plusses, because it’s an inevitable part of sailing, and it’s probably best that you understand the ‘rules of the road’ really well. After the first day of assessment, we came back to our home base, to find our instructor was going to cook up a storm for us all. He made a point of making sure we understood Cathy was the brains behind the home cooked meals, but, I must admit he received the praise!

The following day we spent the morning doing mooring exercises, having plenty of instruction ’springing’, mooring alongside, and from the stern. We practiced under a myriad of conditions and scenarios, and with such a nice boat to look after when docking, I feel I got it down to a fairly gentle art, and I’m sure Constellation will be happy not to get smashed into boards everytime she’s ready to tie up

In the late afternoon, we left Gibraltar and ventured across the bay among the tankers until it was dark, and then practiced ship light theory and spotting marina lights by night. I still have no idea how you’re meant to see the them until you’re practically alongside, but I guess its an art for further practice…

Coming into Tarfia after Man Overboard Exercises

The next day after spending the night in the Gibraltar marina, we sailed to Tarifa on the coast of Spain. Before entering port, we sailed around the point into more sheltered waters to get out of an increasingly large swell. At anchor, our instructor put lunch together while we all sat around recovering from a long day of sailing. The trip down was lengthy, as we needed to beat up to the Traffic Separation Scheme in order to have the right run down to Tarifa point. Along the way we learnt and practiced navigation from visual landmarks, steering well clear of a ship wreck (which made a good point of reference on our charts) and ensuring we kept in front of our rival Trafalgar boat, full of students doing their Coastal Skipper and Yachtmaster tickets!

After lunch we practiced the Man Overboard exercises, throwing ‘Kylie’ overboard and coming to her rescue. Kylie was a bucket attached to a fender, but we treated her well pulling her to safe rescue time after time, practicing by wind and motor. I’ll admit to maybe missing and running her down, but only once!

Tired and nearing darkness, we sailed back around and entered Tarifa port. As such, you learn a little about the etiquette of entering foreign ports, handling the boats papers and crew members passport & visas. Tarifa was a really beautiful little city, with tiny laneways and nice restuarants. We spent the night with crew from another Trafalgar boat where I tried to explain that yes, I was going to attempt to sail to Australia this year without any crew (except with my imaginary friend named Trevor).

We were greeted with increasing wind in the morning, and attempted to beat back to Gibraltar to get across the Traffic Separation Scheme over to Morocco. This can be likened to a German autobahn with semi-trailers who take 2km to stop and steam along at 160kmh. No place for VW Polos or their equivalents. The wind was gusting to a Force seven, and it was a futile effort to make it in any reasonable amount of time. We sailed hard into big winds for over two hours, but realised it would take us a month to reach our destination, and resorted to motoring away from the strong winds encountered near Tarifa. We motored for an hour or so until the winds calmed and we were in a better position to make the cross, and re-launched the sails. We spent a pleasant time crossing over to Africa under sail in perfect wind conditions, around the coast and to a little town called Smir, in Morocco. I ‘ticked off’ my first visit to the continent of Africa, stepping onto the marina and marvelling at the thought of visiting foriegn lands under sail. Sorry, I get a bit dreamy and romantic over these things!

A Flat Med on our final day after five days of windy conditions.

Sailing back to Spain, the water was flat, but beautiful nonetheless. I nor the rest of the crew seemed to mind, after the last five days were spent under sail, and we now had a bit of a chance to practice theory, ensuring we had all our knots right, getting the opportunity to relax for a little while and catch up on all the questions I had. We moored in Sotogrande, Spain and dined in an Irish pub and paddled about the marina in a small tender, to make sure we had the coordination to operate one and didn’t end up going in circles!

The last day was spent doing a contour navigation and rounding Gibraltar from the other side. At this stage we also considered the theory of navigation under fog, and what is possible with a complete loss of instruments. From the water-side of the rock, it’s possible to see the holes punched in the sides to house large guns and movie-esque submarine landing depots. It’s a remarkable place, and I’m sure the military history is quite incredible.

I stayed another night on the boat, and spent the afternoon walking up the rock to see if these primates really did exist in the bushes. Apparently they do, and they have no fear.

So to sum it all up, I sailed with large ships in an incredibly busy area of the sea, visited three countries and another continent, spotted dolphins and apes, asked a lot of questions and learnt a great deal. The boats, facilities and indstruction was fantastic, and I can’t say enough for how nice everybody was at Trafalgar. So, if you want to do your RYA certificates, and you’ve got a toss up between doing them on the English south coast, or going to the warm and windy Straights, what can I say?

nick.