Lifting out

Imagine if once a year you had to hire a great big crane and move your house as the only way to access and clean your basement. Imagine your home swaying on a chain as it is plucked from between your neighbours while you pray some mishap does not reduce all you own to matchwood. Then imagine that you have to work flat out for twenty four hours before the whole process is repeated to slot your pride and joy back into place.

Aragorn, our boat, and soon to be home, got it's annual below the waterline maintenance this week. The whole process would have cost a lot more and taken a lot longer had it not been for Catherine, my wife and crew, Sean, our friend and sailing mentor, and Anthony, our “shore engineer”.

Our concern about costs has increased proportionately with the imminence of our Live-aboard lifestyle. Fortunately we were able to book our lift-out in Howth Yacht Club, whose reasonable rates were matched by an equally reasonable chandlers just across the harbour.

Our plan was to sail from Dun Laoghaire on Monday night, lift out first thing Tuesday and get all the work done within the day. Then lift back on Wednesday and sail home.

I spent Monday buzzing around making sure that all the tools we'd need were aboard while Catherine ensured a suitably provisioned galley. Then, at eight o'clock, with Sean as extra crew, we slipped our lines and sailed across Dublin Bay. With twenty knots of wind out of the Southwest, under a clear Winter sky, we had a perfect sail, snug in our thermals, arriving in time to sample the Guinness in the club bar.

We slept on board, rising at a civilized 8 o'clock. With Catherine manning the camera, Nicky on the crane, told us what to do, while his mate Kevin, with his infectious smile, kept everyone on track and in good humour. With slings sunk under the boat fore and aft, the mighty crane slowly hoisted Aragorn's ten tons. Sean held a line on the stern while I held one on the bow, conscious that a sudden gust of wind might send us for a swim, or smash Aragorn to smithereens off the quay wall. Thankfully no such disasters befell, and she made a perfect landing in the waiting cradle.

Then it was all go. Examine the hull and keel for signs of wear. Check the propeller, its shaft, and anodes. The prop needed a little restoration, the anodes and cutlass bearing needed replacement, and the rope cutter required some dentistry to return it to as new chomping performance. Credit to Anthony, who beavered away despite a few inadvertent dousings as we hosed off the marine fuzz that had started to overcome last year's anti-foul.

By seven in the evening it was dark, we had covered the hull in a fresh coat of paint, and all was done bar a few last minute jobs. Second night on the boat we slept the sleep of the just.

Next morning, while the crane suspended Aragorn in the air, Anthony and I held the lines, and Catherine, armed with paintbrush instead of camera, touched up the patches that were inaccessible on the ground.

Back in the water, the shore engineer made his final engine checks, and, with her freshly cleaned hull Aragorn tore across Dublin Bay at a blistering eight and half knots to home sweet home on Dun Laoghaire marina.

One big job out of the way, all going well next time we'll be doing it in the warmth of an Algarve Spring.

Copyright © Pat Egan 2008, all rights reserved.

Planning to be Marine Itinerants

“How are the plans going?”, or “What are your plans?”, are questions we are asked a lot these days about our forthcoming move to live-aboard in warmer climes.

First I say that, although everything may sound very definite, it has to be flexible. Travelling by small boat is unpredictable. You never know when something's going to go wrong and you just have to stay and fix it. It might be that you have to wait a month for a part. Or the weather can turn sour and stay that way for weeks. Alternatively we could arrive somewhere planning to stay for a week, and then get a perfect forecast with the wind blowing out of just the right direction, and leave the next day.

Still, we need a plan to get where we want to be when the Winter comes in. For us this is the Algarve, more specifically Lagos Marina. The Algarve is strategically situated on the entrance to the Mediterranean, and just off the main sailing route from Northern Europe to the Caribbean via the Canary Islands. We're told that Lagos is a great spot for novice liveaboards, with its thriving live-aboard community, town centre location, and launching pad to either the Med or the Americas. Because Lagos is so suitable it tends to fill up quickly, so we're already booked in there from November 1st.

Another factor defining our schedule is the weather. I've been warned that the North Coast of Spain is prone to fog from late August. As we head South we expect it to improve, but, travelling down the coast of western Europe we will be ever exposed to the full might of the Atlantic, and that gets angrier and mightier the later in the year it gets.

Then there is the route we plan to take. We are taking the coastal route around the Bay of Biscay, partly because we want to cruise a little in France on the way, and also because we have little appetite for a long passage directly to Spain at this stage.

Our final consideration is domestic, because of other commitments we cannot leave before the end of May. All of this combines to create the framework of our first year of our life as marine itinerants.

All going well we leave Dun Laoghaire at the end of May. Hopefully we'll get a few days in the Scilly Islands and Cornwall before moving on to Concarneau in Brittany. From there gently make our way down the French coast to La Rochelle, visiting the cities, towns, villages and remote anchorages along the way. In some we will only stop overnight, in others we may stay for a week, longer if the weather turns nasty & we have to wait it out. We will probably stay in France until after Bastille day, 14th July, just to join the celebrations. Then we'll wait for a good forecast to cut across Biscay to Bilbao.

We will loll our way westward along the North of Spain over the next few weeks. Remembering the fog, we will press to get around the northwest corner of Spain and on past Cape Finisterre by late August. I have heard a lot about the Rias of Northwest Spain, we'll spend some weeks exploring them. Along the West coast of Portugal we will at least stop in Porto and Cais Cais.

We want to be around Cape St Vincent on the Southwest corner of Portugal by the 1st October, and into the relative shelter of the Algarve. We'll cruise the Algarve for the month, before snuggling down in Lagos until February.

Then it's lift out for some routine maintenance and by March '09 we'll be poking our nose into the Mediterranean, but that's next year's plan.

Copyright © Pat Egan 2008, all rights reserved.

Decision made.

Yes! Our minds are made up! We're going!

Come 31^st May, or as soon after as weather permits, it's "all aboard" for Catherine and me on our 40 foot sailing boat, "Aragorn", out of Dun Laoghaire harbour, hang a right at Dalkey Island, and see what happens.

In truth, our minds were well made up long before now, but we had to stay shtum for business reasons. No more! It's the nomadic life for us, and we're shouting it from the rooftops.

And OK, we have a specific destination. We're going to hunker down in the Algarve from November through February, before heading East into the Med for Summer 2009. After all, we want to be where the weather's warm come Winter. The downside being this imposes a schedule; we can't simply dawdle our way down, or we might end up in a French or Spanish Winter, not much better than our own. And that's another thing that's going to hurry us up : weather. I'm told it gets foggy along the North of Spain in the latter part of August, so we want to be South of Finisterre by September 1^st, and around Cape St Vincent on the Southwest corner of Portugal in early October.

Gosh, we'll barely have had a couple of pints in the Scilly Isles but we'll be upping anchor & heading for France. A few days cruising the Glenan Islands, perhaps a week on the Morbihan inland sea. But making our entrance between the towers into La Rochelle's old harbour is a moment to savour for ever.

The Spanish coast beckons, but wouldn't it be a shame to be in France at that time of year and not wait to join in on Bastille Day on the 14^th of July?

Little over a month to whistle stop through Bilbao, Gijon, La Coruna, and the Rias of Northwest Spain. A visit to Santiago de Compostello is a must, but I don't think we'll walk! What a happy dilemma that in order to visit the next beautiful place we must leave the one we are in.

As for funding this, well, you know, it doesn't cost much to drop the anchor in a sheltered bay and hook a couple of fish for dinner. Hoisting the sails in a fair wind not only means free transport for us, but for our home and contents too! Ye can keep yer Estate Agents' commissions, yer Solicitors' fees, and yer removal vans ye land lubbers!

Of course we'll have to pay to stop in ports and marinas to shelter when the weather's bad, or just for a rest. When the wind doesn't oblige we may have to use the engine, and that's three expensive litres of diesel an hour. We will offload more cash stocking up on land produce, on the odd "bouteille du vin", or on visiting local hostelries. And of course there'll be ongoing maintenance and repairs to Aragorn. But continental prices are favourable and with renting the house and our savings, a little budget planning should keep us indefinately.

When are we coming back? Wrong question! Not when, if! If we get ill, or go broke, or get fed up with warm weather or challenging seas, or maybe we'll just wait 'til we're too old for adventure.

We might even decide we don't like the lifestyle and just return quietly in August after an interesting French cruise!

Hmm, I don't think so!

Copyright © Pat Egan 2008, all rights reserved.