A day in our life on the river.

I wake this morning to a change in the weather, our “window on the world”, from the bed, is the hatch above our heads, for the past week it has been filled with unbroken blue but this morning there is a blanket of slate grey. The sounds are different too, instead of the slap of oars from the procession of early morning rowers passing just feet from our hull, I can only hear the fog horns from the cargo ships leaving the docks in Southampton.

Each morning as one of us steals ourself to get out of bed to turn on the heater, we miss our reliable, auto-timed central heating system, once on we quickly jump back into bed until the boat warms up. I glance out of the window but all is quiet on the river, a lone swan swims by, its feathers fluffed up in full display. Unfortunately for him this effort is in vain, as far as I can see, there are no other swans nearby so this performance is watched by just myself and a bunch of disinterested seagulls.

An hour later and the marina has woken up, the large yacht next to us is having its windscreen replaced, the sailing school boat a few berths down welcomes a group of sheepish looking students and a rib speeds past setting all the boats rocking. On the hard, as I take some rubbish to the skip, it is also busy. Half a dozen salty sea dog types are lovingly painting and polishing their crafts and there is a motor boat being put onto the crane to be returned  into the water, while another three boats line up on the working dock ready to be lifted out.

Onboard Raya, Rick has all the cushions up and is busy sorting spares into a selection of assorted boxes and filling every inch under the seating. As the only seat left is at the chart table I take out the chart plotter instructions and start work on recalibrating. The Raymarine display units ( the screens showing our electronic charts) are the only part of the navigation electronics we haven’t replaced, so I spend time deleting all the old routes and way points and setting the types of displays, alarms, etc. to the settings we want.

In the meantime a guy from Sailfish comes to check over the watermaker. When switched on we can supposedly make about 90 litres an hour of fresh water from seawater, amazing really. We have left this job to right at the end of the refit as once commissioned the unit does have to be used, ideally every couple of days or at least once a week and as we are sitting in the not so pristine waters of the Itchen river it is better to be run it while we are out sailing. Happily everything is working well. Once Rick is satisfied that he understands all the ins and outs the engineer leaves and we jump in the car to buy engine and generator spares. It is only a half successful trip but we do find a fantastic pub on the river Hamble for a light lunch.

As the day wears on the marina begins to empty of workers, most of whom don’t work Friday afternoons, and would normally start to fill with owners coming down for a weekend of boating. Today however people must have looked at the weather forecast and decided it would be warmer to stay at home, everywhere is very empty. The wind is whistling through the rigging and creating a chop on the river, the friendly black lab is hunkered down on the dock patiently waiting for his owner on one of the boats, even the ever present seagulls seem to be hiding somewhere, just the odd hardy soul sails past slowly.

Rick and I turn on the heating and settle down to some admin, he is responding to emails and researching the final few spares, while I type out a Mayday radio procedure sheet to be put next to our VHF Radio – lots of RED and CAPITAL letters.

It is almost high tide and so the tidal stream that rattles past the boat has reduced and the floating pontoon we are tied to is nearly at the level of the surrounding land, all the mud flats are covered. Our depth meter shows 5.2m, that’s under our keel so the river is now about 25ft deep, at low tide it can go down to just 6ft or 7ft. That’s a lot of water moving in and out twice a day and produces the strong currents that can make mooring so difficult here.

Late afternoon the sun threatens to appear but fails, Rick goes on deck to finish a piece of woodwork that he has been glueing and I sit down to write this blog. Opposite us more well wrapped up crews arrive for the sail school boats, a group of flirting swans take off magestically from the other side of the river and the choppy water continues to lap noisily at our hull.

All is well on Raya we have achieved quite a lot today and we have a friend arriving to take us to dinner, it’s time to break out the gin and tonic. We have been drinking Gin and Tonic with Jonathan for about forty years, but today he comes armed with ingredients for a very different beast. Hendricks Gin, Fever Tree Tonic, cucumber, lots of ice and finally a couple of twists of cracked black pepper. Surprisingly good!

Just the Two of Us

We’ve just returned from our first sail on Raya with just the two of us aboard.

There wasn’t a huge amount of wind but there was plenty of beautiful spring sunshine and at lunchtime we stopped and anchored off Osborne beach to enjoy it.  

In the afternoon a sea breeze got up and there was just enough wind to sail back to southampton water. We may not have been the slickest team on the water but we managed without incident.

Under Itchen bridge, we returned to Shamrock Quay, where we parked, always the moment of highest tension, almost perfectly, phew!

A good day.

Tablets, tables and ticks

As our leaving date approaches, at a seemingly ever accelerated pace, life has become a matter of trying to get as much done each day as possible. We end the day comparing notes and reporting how many things we have managed to tick off one or other of the to do lists. We are beginning to realise that we can’t leave with absolutely all the i’s dotted and every t crossed and that if we stayed until everything was done we would probably never actually go.

One big tick this week was the completion of the First Aid kit, we are now officially a floating hospital! It has been a mammoth task trying to decide exactly what to take with us and I have to thank our Doctor friend Peter and his colleagues for all the work they have put into getting everything together for us. We all feel that we have probably far too much stuff and hope that we will never need any of it, but nobody will be able to accuse us of not being prepared. I have to also say a big thanks to Peters wife Joanna who must have spent hours bagging and labelling everything up, the First Aid boxes are definitely the most organised part of the boat. No pressure with all the spares then Rick!

Another bit of excitement was getting the new cockpit table onboard yesterday, it really makes Raya look finished. We have had plenty of visitors over the last couple of weeks and with all this warm weather have been eating on deck, from our laps, off towels as table cloths and from Ricks work bench. Typically the moment we have a proper table the temperature has dropped and today we ate lunch below. Never mind it looks great and will be in full use very soon.

More ticks appeared as we ordered new prescription sunglasses, Rick sorted out his phone contract, we bought four light weight quilts and various other household bits and continued to fight through the piles of paperwork that still hang over us. Rick replaced the wire drops in the davits with Dyneema and spliced new harnesses and I have started a more detailed passage plan.

I think we are beginning to feel a bit jaded by all this preparation, feels like it’s time to go.

Adapting to Change

I woke late this morning having slept for nearly eleven hours, I felt drugged, my head was thick and my limbs were heavy. As the morning progressed I gradually felt worse, everything from my toes to my eyes ached. We had sailed yesterday, a pleasant, breezy, sunny sail with Andy and his charming young family, but this was much more than tired muscles. The centre of my pain was the top of my left arm and across my shoulder, it slowly dawned on me that I am reacting to the yellow fever jab I had last Tuesday. Rick seems okay but we were told any reaction would occur between 3 and 10 days, so fingers crossed he is going to be OK.

Unusually for me I have taken to my bed and I am writing this after another two hour snooze. There are jobs needing to be completed of course, the decks are coated with a lovely mixture of salt and Southampton dust, the sail we dropped into the forward cabin yesterday remains as if a cloud has exploded on the berth but wiil take the two of us to flake and put it away and there are the scheduled spares list to be researched. But I just don’t have the energy. So I am sitting here watching people’s legs pass by the cabin window just feet from our bed and my head, reflecting on how well we have coped with the dramatic change we have undertaken in our lives.

The fact that I am relatively calm about this reduction in privacy is a good example of how well we seemed to be adapting. One of the attractions of our Oyster was the amount of light we have below flooding through our large windows, this does mean however, in the marina, that as people walk past on the dock they seem very close to us. If we are on deck we, and everyone else for that matter, are open to scrutiny. Then there’s all the trades men we have had crawling around the boat, everything they need to get at seem to be under our bed or behind our wardrobe, the phrase ‘airing our dirty linen’ often comes to mind and last but not least there is of course the delight of marina toilets and showers. But it is all part of living on a boat and I have surprised myself with how easily I have accepted it.

Against all initial evidence we have also been gradually managing to cut down on and fit all our belongings into the available space and it seems to have been relatively easy to give our possessions up. Rick, some may be surprised to hear, seems to have set himself the target of living in just three pairs of trousers/shorts and four tops, his wardrobe of designer clothes have been stored away. I gave my lovely Rolex to a friend last week for safe keeping, having already lost a previous version in a tussle with a mooring buoy to the Carribean sea a few years ago and mindful of some of the very poor communities we will be visiting in didn’t seem appropriate attire.

Additionally, we are beginning to cook “proper” food in the galley, ours maybe large for a yacht but is small compared to our kitchen at Ongley and has taken a while to get use to. But I have got on top of cooking with gas and become more organised to cope with the reduction in space. It has now become natural to pump out the sinks after use, to hand wash dishes and use minimal water.

Part of our success with processing this change is that we have been so busy working towards the end result that we haven’t had time to linger on these things. In fact I’m still not sure we quite yet realise what we have done, we are still psychologically, just on holiday.

Yellow Fever update – I am beginning to feel better, Rick a crumpled heap in bed!!!

Sunshine at Last

We had a busy but good Easter weekend, Rachael came up from Cardiff to help move furniture into the new rental property, have a sail and generally inspect the new floating family home. It was lovely to see her and both she and Matt worked extremely hard, I can’t remember the last time we worked just the four of us together but it seems we can still pull together as a great team.

Robyn joined us for the family sail, quite an auspicious event, it must be ten years since we have all been on a boat together. Unfortunately the weather didn’t live up to the occasion, the sun struggled and broke through the clouds occasionally but it was decidedly chilly, note the interesting head wear, and there was barely a breath of wind. Luckily we had nowhere particular to be and so could go where the best of the light winds took us.

In contrast, yesterday and today we have had our first days of real warmth so far this spring. It felt good to have the sun on my face, the hatches open airing the boat and shock of shocks, to be wearing a T-shirt instead of a fleece and to swap my sail boots for deck shoes.

Definitely a day to work outside and it was the lazarette, the large locker at the stern of the boat, that had our full attention today. As every nook and cranny of the boat needs to be used to its full potential and with the lazarette being about 8ft long, 3ft wide and 4ft deep it is essential that it is well organised. We took everything out, lines, fenders, brushes, jerry cans and much more, sorted, cleaned and tested as necessary before putting it hopefully more logically back in.

As the afternoon temperature rose and with the warm days ahead in the front of our minds, we left out and cleaned the poles for the Bimini so we could test the new canvas cover. It took a couple of hours to work it all out, amusing those around us as we struggled with poles, ropes and canvas, but we got it up eventually and great it looked too, Dolphin sails have done a fantastic job.  

Only around four weeks until our departure date and sipping a glass of wine as the sun begins to set we have the feeling that everything is coming together, or is that just an illusion cast by the sunshine? Plenty still to do!

Computer Says No!

It is hard to explain just how difficult it is turning out to be, to administratively disconnect ourselves from our old life. As I gradually work my way through the process, each time I try to fill out an online form or try to sort something out on the phone it is increasingly complicated. We no longer fit the tick box world of the big companies.

To start with it is impossible to do anything without an address, anything! My sister has kindly become my own private PO Box number and Postmaster forwarding mail and scanning documents almost daily. Stella Maris will gladly except boxes full of online orders and pass on mail and friends are acting as couriers, but still I have at least one parcel lost in the ether of online delivery and a cheque lost in a closed account.

The banking and utility firms can’t cope with us closing accounts, paying off loans or cancelling insurance policies, “but what have we done wrong” they wail, “how can we temp you back”, “how can you possibly survive without us?” But ask them to do something slightly unusual and it’s always a case of “computer says no”, “what do you mean you don’t have three contact telephone numbers”, “no we can’t send mail anywhere but you’re official address, even if you aren’t there and we have spent the past hour asking you security questions” and “no my brain isn’t big enough to stray from the script on the screen in front of me”.

To compound matters our phone signal and Internet speed in the marina aren’t brilliant so things are often frustratingly slow and that, I guess, is something we will have to get use to. Despite the time and money we have spent setting up the boats satellite and network systems, the days of the efficient home hub are behind us.

It is the small independent businesses that have become our heroes, happy to bend their procedure to help someone who doesn’t fit the norm, a real person that answers the phone without pressing 65 buttons first and rarely a dictating computer in sight.

One exciting parcel that has made it to the boat, with the help of the friends courier service, is the ARC (Atlantic Crossing for Cruisers) 2015 manual. Enclosed is the ARC flag, another flag to add to our ever increasing collection of courtesy flags, signal flags and pennants. Who’d have thought a couple of months ago we would need a whole cupboard just for flags!