A Clockwise Circumnavigation of the UK and Ireland in Gaudeo (Bowman 40)
| 08:35 Tuesday 4th April 2023 |
| Brighton to Cowes |
| FAIR | F3 EAST | SLIGHT | 1022 mBar FALLING SLOWLY |
It was quite a pleasant thought when I was making early plans to sail to Cowes, in the Solent, and today this was to be our destination. Located right in the heart of British sail racing, Cowes offers a vibrant and lively atmosphere that is hard to resist. As I embarked on this journey, I couldn’t help but think of the Royal Yacht Association (RYA), a stone’s throw from Cowes in the River Hamble, which holds a special place in the hearts of sailing enthusiasts. The RYA has long been regarded as an alma mater for many sailors, a place where they can learn, grow, and pursue their passion for the sea. Its rich history and commitment to excellence make it a respected institution within the sailing community.
But, as fate would have it, my plans took an unexpected turn when Gaudeo, had different ideas!
Mark, a key member of Gaudeo’s crew, had an epic plan in mind – to document our trip with a bodycam, just like a cutting-edge police officer. But, in a twist of events, Mark’s recording device failed exactly when the most exciting part was about to unfold, so only this account remains. Having just checked, I didn’t even have a chance to start the Navionics track that day…
Pulling away from the pontoon nicely, I lined up the channel out of the marina. We were on a rising tide, but not long off of low water. When we came in the previous day, we were in a similar state of the tide, so I knew we had depth. However, to add to the tension, the marina had advised us to leave later in the tide, working on a rule of thumb for boats with a draft below a certain depth and a certain number of hours after low water—yet this didn’t take into account the type of tide, i.e., neaps or springs. So I chose to trust my specific knowledge of the boat, the conditions, tide, crew, and our previous track.
I engaged the engine and throttled forward, but nothing… the engine didn’t pick up revs?! “Hold on,” I thought, and I returned the throttle to neutral and tried again—nothing. I’m not sure what I expected might happen the second time, having done nothing differently, but nothing did (isn’t that the definition of insanity? or simply a lack of alternative ideas).
I glanced at the pontoon, at my crew, and back to the slightly more distant pontoon. The wind had suddenly picked up, typical. My heart was pounding with a mix of determination and doubt. Was it even possible to lasso a cleat from this far? The distance seemed insurmountable given our experience, at over 20ft away, a Hail Mary? But then, in that moment, I thought of the bowthruster. I could use it to pivot and swerve the boat, putting the nose into the wind or snaking through the water. Maintaining movement steadily away from the marina’s mud banks, other boats, and the pontoons would give me precious time to think. It worked, but it would not be a means to get us to Cowes!
Without hesitating, I entrusted the helm to Mary and jumped down the companionway. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I removed the engine panel, exposing the noise of the engine, adding to the tension and confusion! Unfortunately, it didn’t cross my mind that I had left the throttle in neutral. My focus was solely on a half-forged plan. With a firm grip on the cable, I manually throttled the engine, desperately hoping that the prop would turn.
As the engine picked up revs, I called up to the crew for confirmation that we’d made way. The response from the crew was resounding and unanimous. Their voices filled with uncertainty and apprehension: “NO!!” They were as clueless as I was about our being adrift. It wasn’t anything snagged on the propellor, or prop failure (we had a feathering prop) these problems would have given the engine something to do, it could have only been an issue with the throttle or it’s cable. Determined not to succumb to panic, I sprinted back up the ladder, radio in hand. In a state of urgency, I called up the marina for urgent assistance, my words warbling with desperation. Yet I managed to make it clear that we were adrift, south of the marina tower, and any form of help would be really – umm, helpful!
The fate of our ongoing journey seemed to flash before my eyes, hung by a thread, veering between disaster involving other boats, the marina’s infrastructure or going aground (typical given my possibly maverick approach to the state of the tide) and merely being back on the pontoon with a broken boat. In that moment, I realized that the journey I had embarked upon was far more than just a long sail. It was a testament to my unwavering resolve, my insatiable hunger to overcome the unknown, to take on a challenge and go beyond the everyday in order to succeed. And with every ounce of passion within me, I awaited the response, hoping for the helping hand we so desperately needed. “Gaudeo – Brighton Marina – We have launched our rib and a crew will be with you momentarily”. Thank fuck!
The marina’s rib was on the scene in no time, their staff were amazing, and the pressure was immediately relieved. Their sponsons pushed us gently back to the pontoon. Although during the recovery, Mark was asked to attempt the almost impossible rope throw I’d considered earlier by the Marina staff. Wisely, I think, he declined their offer. But we eventually secured Gaudeo to the pontoon. And the cortisol started to subside.
Mary brewed a big cup of tea, and I reconsidered the fault. All at once, I realized my earlier mistake. I tried again. I restarted the engine, knowing the boat to be securely tied to the pontoon. I engaged the gear by throttling forward. The engine didn’t rev, and there was no thrust as before. However, with the gearbox now engaged in forward gear, I returned to the engine accelerator on top of the engine and manually tugged it, and so increasing fuel to the engine. It picked up revs, and the propeller produced thrust, success. It was clearly a break in the red jacket throttle cable. On reflection, I could have proven the break more simply with the engine off, by watching the linkage move (or not move) with someone at the helm adjusting the throttle, but hey.
I knew I had an old spare onboard (since before my time), although the reason for its once-used condition had never been made explicit to me. So, I initially ignored it as a usable spare, considering it only as an emergency backup and worked on getting a brand-new replacement. Surely in a marina like Brighton, this would not be an issue.
How wrong was I… the marina provided phone number, after phone number, for engineers and technicians, but no one was available for weeks. Fair enough, it was “their busy period,” but still… OK, so not wanting to join our neighboring sailor and become stranded like Odysseus, I considered my options. I had previously changed a throttle cable on ‘Shanti,’ Shearwater Sailing’s Hallberg-Rassy 352, and I assumed it couldn’t be too different. Our engine is further forward, theirs being under the companionway, so Gaudeo’s cable had a long run, but in essence, it was the same job.
The next thing was to source a new cable. Strike two for Brighton… I tried a couple of chandleries and the marina’s engineers, who told me exactly what I needed, just that they didn’t have one, and it was the Easter holidays, not to mention that they were just coming into “their busy period”. “Give me strength!” Basically, I will not be able to get one for a few days at best. Bugger… the “used” and untested spare, it would have to be.
Mark and I took the rear cabin apart and exposed the cable run while Mary and Michelle wisely took to exploring Brighton. To be honest, I’d seen it before, and if the engine trouble hadn’t occurred, they wouldn’t have had this opportunity. They visited the West Pier1 (1866), in its state of disrepair. The Brighton Royal Pavilion2, often referred to as the “Brighton Palace,” is an architectural gem in the heart of Brighton. Built in the early 19th century and commissioned by King George IV, this exotic and flamboyant palace showcases a unique fusion of Indian and Chinese architectural influences, making it an extraordinary sight in a predominantly English cityscape. A fabric shop to pick up some crochet equipment (to while away some time) and a deli for some sustenance.
Meanwhile, Mark and I had stripped out the old cable. The old CT1 I’d used to seal up a leak onto the aft berth, which came through the deck hole that the throttle cables ran through in the cockpit, was a chore. Whilst dismantling the helm to get the throttle box out, I also noticed that the bowthruster controls and terminations were heavily corroded and needed replacing soon – that would go on the ‘to do list’.
To cut a long story short, removing a few expletives (remarkably few according to Mark) and a lot about my developing knowledge of the boat, which, beyond the condition of the bow thruster’s joystick, now included: the tightness of the cables in the throttle box, the importance of using clamps when reassembling the helm, getting the compass base the right way around, how to adjust the throttle resistance, and how to fine-tune the cable’s tension… by sunset, it was all back together, and we had successfully tested her. The best part was it hadn’t cost a penny, and although the Marina had kindly offered us a longer stay of three weeks to enable the on-site engineer to fix the problem at the reduced ‘monthly rate’, we wouldn’t be needing it. I must admit I was feeling pretty smug, but I wouldn’t let myself express it until I had the marina well in our rearview mirror. For one, I still wasn’t confident about the spare cable, and on closer inspection, the old gear change cable looked to be even more corroded… so I promised myself I’d get new spares and replace them when I could (along with the bow thruster joystick), putting the old ones into the parts locker (assuming they came out without damage). But for now, it was sound.
| 07:50 Tuesday 5th April 2023 |
| Brighton to Cowes [take two] |
| FAIR | F1-4 SOUTH VEERING SW | SMOOTH BECOMING SLIGHT | 1018 mBar |
The very next day it was like déjà vu, only we set off at the same time but with slightly more water. As Gaudeo was under full sail, the engine was cut and I sighed. We had a beautiful sail down the coast. In the afternoon as we entered the historic Solent waters, the horrors of the previous day were a distant memory.
Brighton Marina harbour wall and buoyed channel
We rounded into Cowes and down the River Medina, berthing in front of the Cowes Yacht Haven3 clubhouse. The place was heaving with the new season’s crews, students, and old hands. Dare I say it, we moored perfectly. For the second time that day, I felt that feeling of pride in the boat (and myself).
Of course, Cowes was the best possible place to source the replacement red jacket cables off the shelf (maybe second only to Southampton), and thanks to the bloke in Medina Marina Services4 (which is near to the chain ferry), I was able to buy the ultra “blue” jacket version5, which, if I so desired, I could “tie in a figure of eight without impeding its smooth action” so I bought two (one for both the throttle and the gearbox). Now the fault had a price, albeit still significantly less than a three-week stay in Brighton Marina6. Cowes7 is an impressive place in season, full of sailing history, sailing clothing outlets, and hardware stores that can’t detach themselves from the clustered maritime service industry there. The narrow, undulating, cobbled streets provide one with a choice of places to eat and drink that gave us all some much-needed rejuvenation.
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- https://www.westpier.co.uk ↩︎
- https://brightonmuseums.org.uk/visit/royal-pavilion-garden/ ↩︎
- https://www.cowesyachthaven.com ↩︎
- https://medinamarineservices.co.uk/home/contact-us/ ↩︎
- https://www.ultraflex.it/product/machzero/ ↩︎
- https://www.premiermarinas.com/get-a-quote ↩︎
- https://www.visitisleofwight.co.uk/explore/towns/cowes ↩︎
Jamie Limond 