Posts Tagged ‘macwester malin’

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Sunshine at the Bay

July 6, 2018

By the end of June, the weather was looking promising, and we decided to take a long weekend in Aberdour. We popped our genoa and mizzen up for the journey, which got a tad lumpy around the bridges, but not anything that required remedial action.

We often scan the harbour at Dalgety Bay from a distance as we pass on our way to Aberdour, and nine times out of ten there’s a blue long keel ketch in residence. This time however must have been the magical tenth time as the harbour was vacant, so we changed course and made a beeline for The Bay. I use the term ‘beeline’, because bees tend to buzz around unpredictably, and that’s what we did. It might have been the excitement of discovering that the harbour was free, or the fact that it had been ages since we visited Dalgety Bay; either way, I missed the buoys that mark the rocks on the approach and we had to faff around until I got my bearings …and I was certain that I knew where the hard pointy things that lurk beneath the surface were.

On reaching the harbour, we couldn’t help but notice that there was a fence blocking-off the pier. Paranoia inevitably kicked in, but the fence along with the large marquee was all part of an event laid on by the local Rotary club. We’re not entirely sure what was going on; there was a bit of singing and some late-night music, but nothing much to write home about.

The weather was really good with blue skies. We set-off on an easy walk east, and made it to St Bridget’s Kirk where we sat on an old tree stump and watched the scenery drift pass for a while.

Any breeze was a warm breeze, and for the first time in a long time, when we made it back to our Macwester Malin, we stretched out on the foredeck and bobbed around. We had to take sensible precautions of course, and we made sure that we were well-hydrated with regular trips to the fridge. Later, I fired-up the barbie and cremated various bits n pieces of poultry.


On day two of our three-day break, we walked west however the coastal path was closed for renovation work, so we didn’t make it all the way to St David’s Harbour as planned.

Instead, although neither of us are sun worshippers, we opted for more baking on deck, on the basis that we didn’t know when the next opportunity to do so would come along. As it turned out, this was the start of a sustained spell of good summer weather that would last for well over a week. Good times!

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Aberdour at the Double

June 21, 2018

I’m writing this on the 21st of June, the summer solstice. Our season is well underway, but I’m snowed-under in other areas of my life and we’re struggling to find the time to go sailing, never mind find the time to write about going sailing. As a result, it seems that my blogging is likely to be less-prolific than previous years until things calm down again.

Some might think that’s a good thing.

We have already been out on the water a few times. Our first trip was to Aberdour at the end of April, and as can be seen by the photographs above and below we had great weather.

When we arrived, Dick, the friendly harbourmaster was a tad soggy, and it turned out that just moments before he had ever-so-slightly failed to complete the step between Vaago, his Macwester 27, and the pier. Fortunately he was absolutely fine.

Despite the remedial work on our Macwester Malin’s stern gland following the gearbox renovation over the winter, we still had a small leak when motoring. That wasn’t a problem when using wind power, so we popped the genoa and mizzen up for the journey back home, and enjoyed our first leisurely sail of 2018.

Our next trip was to Port Edgar to catch up with our friends over there.

We got up at the crack of dawn. Immediately we had a problem to overcome with our dinghy mooring, and by the time we resolved that issue the delay put us under a bit of time pressure given the rapidly falling tide. In the rush to avoid being stranded on our mooring, after I threw our bow strop overboard, I managed to snag our mooring link line with our Macwester Malin’s prop. The engine stopped abruptly and we started to drift. Fortunately we managed to retrieve the bow strop, and once that was back on, I did what I could to untangle the rear strops. Having done all that, we phoned the marina at Port Edgar to cancel and waited for the tide to go out.

That’s the first time I’ve made that particular mistake, and given 2018 is season eight …I suppose we’ve been lucky.

A couple of weeks later in Mid-May, we made a return trip to Aberdour. We passed Calloo out on the water, and Fyne Thyme [above left] accompanied us on the trip down to the bridges.

There was very little wind west of the bridges, but there was a light breeze as we headed nearer to Aberdour. Above; our Macwester Malin, Indefatigable Banks heads east, with HMS Prince of Wales just visible in the background above our mizzen boom.

We had another enjoyable stay at Aberdour, with good weather once again. However one issue that was concerning me was the annoying leak from the stern gland. That seemed to be worse rather than better. With this in mind, when the time came we headed back to Capernaum so that we could get on to one of the club pontoons for remedial work.

After a few days waiting, we got on to the north pontoon and our chum who’s also the local marine engineer helped us with the leak.

We spent quite a bit of time fettling the ManeCraft deep sea stern gland, but despite this there was still a leak when we carried out tests under load. Eventually, we decided to lower the engine to improve the alignment of the shaft, as running over the mooring line and stalling the 30hp Lombardini diesel might have jolted the engine out of position.

The haar came and went as we sat on the pontoon for over a week. The shot above taken from onboard, shows HMS Prince of Wales re-emerging from the mist that had obscured her just moments earlier.

The leak was substantially reduced by our remedial work, but there’s still water ingress when motoring. That might mean we need to take a look at the cutlass bearing, however that’s a job for the end of the season, so we’ll just need to manage the leak when required.

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Crane-in 2018

April 17, 2018

Macwester Malin

As usual, crane-in day required an early start. There were lots of new health and safety procedures this year, so I pulled on my waders for one shift in the mud, taking the slings off boats as they were lowered down into the putty.

The tide arrived by late morning, and with my shift over, it was really just a matter of waiting around until it was our Macwester Malin’s slot. The lift went smoothly, but obviously one of the first checks I performed was the stern gland, as the gearbox had been out over the winter.

Sure enough, there was a notable leak. As it happened, our naval architect chum was onboard with us (he was tagging along for the ride), and after some tweaking he managed to stop most of the water ingress. However there was evidence of further leaking when we reached our mooring. We spent some more time trying to understand the problem and improve the situation, including the skipper from Joint Venture, who made an appearance too. Subsequently we shut everything down and had a celebratory beer before heading home.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

The tide was back in at around 1am and, rather predictably, by 2am I was in the dinghy rowing over to our mooring in the darkness. Predictably again, there was no further leaking underway, so I settled down in the forepeak and spent the rest of the night shivering every last one of my timbers …as it was bitterly cold without access to shorepower.

The crew turned up the following day, and we got on with some further tidying-up and prep for the sailing season. There was still the problem of the stern gland leaking while motoring, so we knew that the following weekend was going to involve more remedial work.

The following Saturday was a cracking day – the hottest of the year so far. We slipped our mooring at 7am and headed over to the club. Fortunately there was one free space left on the pontoons. Moments later, Joint Venture appeared and rafted-up alongside us.

We filled our water tanks, and I power-washed the decks to get the worst of the winter’s grime off. That’s a job that always more fun in the sunshine, and just like last year I had my shorts on for the occasion.

Joint Venture’s skipper came onboard to resolve the leaking issue with the ‘ManeCraft’ mechanical seal that we installed in 2013. In the image above, you can clearly see a green colour on top of the gold colour; that green ring shouldn’t be there. Some mild abrasion got rid of the nasty green stuff …hopefully along with the leak. It seems that the green corrosion probably took hold over the winter when the gearbox was out and the plates weren’t in contact with each other, as they typically would be.

So our Macwester Malin is on her mooring and pretty much ready to go for the new season. Yes we have a few small things to organise, but nothing that would stop us from getting out for a shakedown sail when the opportunity arises. Good news everyone!

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2018 pre-season

April 13, 2018

It’s been a long, cold winter in Scotland, with more snow than we’ve seen for a long time in the central belt. The photograph above shows ice in the harbour at Aberdour, which isn’t something that we’ve witnessed before.

Over the closed season our reconnaissance trips included the harbours at Alloa, Broughtyferry, and Wormit amongst many others. We spent a few days at Kilconquhar Castle in February, where we cremated marine ply taken from our Macwester Malin during the heads rebuild. Call me sentimental, but I didn’t want to just toss it into landfill.

Our pre-season prep this year included repairs to our cockpit tent (including replacing three windows), and replacing the drive cone in the gearbox following a gearbox issue on the last day of the season [see here]. The gearbox project turned out to be more expensive than expected, and with hindsight we would probably have considered replacing it with a new gearbox if we had known the final tab in advance. Still, it’s done and our 30HP Lombardini diesel is ready to go for the new season …which is a result.

We fitted a new impeller, and changed the engine oil and oil filter just before crane-in. We bought a Majoni fender step, and 100m of 8mm braided line which I’m going to use to replace the one and only halyard remaining from 2011 when we purchased our yacht. We’ll still have plenty of spare left for any other requirements.

In terms of our mooring tackle, we replaced the 20mm chain that runs through our hippo buoy. We only needed a metre of chain, but were given a price of £42 for a metre (galvanised). As the supplier only had three metres of chain left in stock, they gave us a good deal on all three metres so we opted for the additional chain, meaning that we have two spare 1m sections for future replacement. I’m going to inspect the rest of the mooring tackle again mid-season, as I want to be sure that there’s no excessive wear, which will be easier to spot when our Macwester has pulled some of the chain up out of the mud.

When it came to actually reinstalling the mooring tackle, this year, we decided to launch the dinghy and row the Hippo buoy over to our mooring from the club. Once the tide had dropped, it was a shorter distance from the dinghy to our mooring. That worked well, and we intend to adopt that process from now on.

This year we managed to find some time to work on our Macwester Malin’s hull (hurrah!). We cleaned it, then T-cut it, then polished it. This made a big difference as the hull was previously more of a matt finish. If we get the time, we plan on carrying out the same process to the topsides once our Macwester Malin is back in the water.

One fly in the ointment over the winter was the slow realisation that our yacht was being targeted. On a number of occasions we found large disposable paper cups (the kind you get from Starbucks) complete with soggy tea bags on our yacht’s deck, which caused staining. That left us wondering what else might have been done that wasn’t so obvious and, although the paper cup tipping appears to have stopped now, we remain concerned about tampering. After a bit of detective work we figured out the most likely source, so that’s one we’ll need to keep an eye on.

Crane-in next!

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Winterisation round-up 2017

November 17, 2017

Following crane-out there are a number of winterisation tasks on my to-do list. The one that I always tackle first is hosing-down our Macwester Malin’s hull to remove the worst of the season’s fouling. This year, as can be seen above, there was heavier weed growth than I’ve ever witnessed (on our yacht).

Still, nothing that would cause any problem to our type of sailing, and certainly much less than the growth that I spotted on our chum’s Colvic Watson earlier in the year [above]. She sported a rather impressive matching goatee-beard at the pointy end too.

Next up is swapping out the impeller, flushing away the salt water, and filling our Lombardini diesel engine’s cooling system with anti-freeze. I didn’t bother swapping out the impeller this year, as I plan on buying a new one for the start of next season.

When it came to winterising our Lavac heads, I thought that I’d try something new. The idea was to ensure that there was no water left in the system, including the intake. With this in mind I shoved a length of hose (kindly provided by Calloo’s skipper) up the inlet.

The other end was positioned with care in a strategically placed bucket of anti-freeze. All I needed to do was nip on-board and pump the anti-freeze through the whole system and the job would be done. Unfortunately, this didn’t work despite various adjustments. There must have been too much air leakage to enable enough suction in the system. This is something I’ll need to improve upon for next year.

We remembered to bring one of the children’s sledges with us to drag the Hippo buoy through the mud. That goes some way to reduce the energy-sapping nature of removing our mooring ground tackle for the winter. Despite that, this year, the crew put in too much effort and jiggered her back.

Above; note the promenade wall that was a feature of the previous post [see here].

While I’ve still to brim our Macwester Malin’s fuel tanks, and complete one or two other tasks, the biggest item remaining on the pre-Christmas to-do list is to address the gearbox problem. While some might just put the loss of gears on the last day of the season down to a glitch, I’m not the kind of skipper who’s comfortable taking a gamble on that sort of thing …so it looks like the gearbox might have to come out to see if any remedial work is required. Yay!

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Nearly caught-out at crane-out

October 10, 2017

The commodore suggested that we took our Macwester Malin round to the club harbour the day before crane-out so that we could be lifted out on the Saturday, as we couldn’t attend on the Sunday (due to an impending London trip). Given that it’s only a hop, skip, and a jump, we didn’t bother with much of the usual procedures. Instead we deployed most of our fenders on the port side, threw our strops off, and set off …or at least that was the plan.

What actually happened was that we let the stern strops off first, and when I cast the main bow strop off and got back to the helm, we immediately started to slip backwards towards the promenade, which is not much more than a boat-length from our mooring. It took a moment for me to figure-out that we weren’t caught on a line – we had no forward gear. By then the bow had blown round ninety degrees and I helped it round a further ninety by using our thruster. Now facing directly towards the ominous promenade wall which was growing larger by the second, I calmly engaged reverse …and eased our yacht back from danger.

Disaster averted. Deep breaths all round to suck up the relief …cool as you like.

I was just beginning to think through my next move, as we continued to reverse back away from the promenade when the engine faltered and ground to a halt.

With the countdown to Armageddon back on and just ten to fifteen seconds left on the clock before impact, apparently I wasn’t filling the crew with confidence as I frantically ran through the options in my mind – a bit like the gearbox there was nothing there. A boat-hook wasn’t going to keep us off the wall for long. By the time I moved the fenders …we’d be on the wall. By the time we deployed the anchor …we’d be on the wall.

The crew was doing her best to keep me informed of our proximity to the yacht on the next mooring and the unforgiving promenade. While the crew’s version of events includes a bit more colourful language, my recollection is that with our one and only remaining throw of the dice I calmly decided to walk forwards to the ignition panel and try to turn the engine back on. It started. I calmly walked back to the helm, buzzed the thruster to take our Macwester Malin’s bow away from the promenade, gingerly engaged first gear and …as luck would have it we slowly moved away from the wall, circled around the back of the harbour …and away from danger.

The shot above shows us motoring through the Ghauts two minutes later.

Ten minutes later we made a complete pig’s ear of coming into Capernaum, possibly because I was worried about losing the engine again, but perhaps mainly because we were still rattled by our close encounter with the promenade. Fortunately there were plenty of friendly faces on hand to help.

We had drinks and nibbles as night fell and the tide eventually dropped leaving our twin-keel yacht safely planted on the putty.

As usual it was an early start on Saturday morning, and we craned the smaller yachts into what’s referred to as the ‘dinghy park’. When the tide came in we moved our Macwester Malin further up the harbour and later in the day we ended-up rafted in-between Ramillies and Miss Lindsay.

It was getting late when our time came, in fact we were the second last yacht out on day one. Thankfully everything went smoothly and our yacht’s keels were resting on her blocks within moments.

The image above shows the view forward which will be fixed for the next six months. We didn’t have time to do anything other than make sure everything was tied down or stowed. Organising stuff properly would have to wait for another weekend. Next stop London.

As usual when we’re down in London, we’re drawn to all things boaty. We had lunch in the sunshine at Chelsea Harbour, and spotting Ramillies Street as we walked along Oxford Street momentarily transported our minds back to the weekend. While the gearbox trouble had been stressful and obviously didn’t constitute a great experience, the outcome was a great one although we didn’t feel that way at the time. We snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, when the outcome could easily have been losing our yacht. Now she’s safely on the hard, we have the time to get the gearbox and engine fixed by a professional, and we’ll be ready for the start of the new sailing season in April 2018. The countdown has already begun!

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Queensferry Crossing Fail

September 13, 2017

We were fortunate to be amongst the fifty-thousand ballot winners given the once in a lifetime opportunity to walk over the new Queensferry Crossing before it was formally opened by the Queen on the 3rd of September. Logistically, our allocated slot and crossing direction from south to north was a tad inconvenient, as it meant that we had very little time to make our way back south to the marina and we would have to set sail immediately to have any chance of getting back on to our mooring before the tide dropped.

The skipper of Huck Finn, a Macwester 27 had loosely organised a muster under the new bridge on both Saturday and Sunday prior to the official flotilla on the Monday. Although we met up with Shere Khan (who’s skipper was hoisting bunting, including a large pair of pants with Jeremy Corbyn’s face printed on them), and Christina II, unfortunately we didn’t spot Huck Finn when we were out on the water.

We had to abort our final approach to our berth in the marina, as a yacht that we had deferred to and that had entered the alley between D and E pontoons, subsequently had a change of mind and for some reason decided to come back out after we had followed her in. As a result we found ourselves unexpectedly in shallow water and I had to resort to using our Macwester Malin’s bow thruster to manoeuvre the front end. A grating noise came from the thruster and I stopped using it immediately. That made berthing a few minutes later sightly more interesting, but we managed nonetheless.

Our heads also developed a problem the same day. We reasoned that something must have been sucked-up through the inlet pipe, as nothing solid has ever gone out the other end. There wasn’t much we could do to fix the heads or the thruster until we could take the ground. Given our mooring is blessed with thick putty, that meant drying-out on one of our club’s pontoons, and with the outer pontoons constantly occupied over recent weeks, we realised that the inner pontoon was our only option. Slowly it dawned on us that the only way of getting on to the inner pontoon for remedial work the following day, was to miss out on walking over the new bridge. As a result, the shot above was the closest we got to the Queensferry Crossing over the weekend.

We met up with friends onboard Tight Fit V a Grandezza 33, and enjoyed a great night with food, drink and banter. The following morning the Tight Fit V crew popped round to our berth, and then we both headed out on to the river (above) to pootle around under the new bridge for a while.

With one eye firmly focussed on reaching the club’s inner pontoon at high water, we set a course heading west well before high water. We passed our chums on Miss Lindsay and later Shere Khan both heading in the opposite direction, and we were also buzzed by a couple of jetskis.

We made it on to the pontoon without complications. The following day, I pulled seaweed from the thruster and was able to check that it was back in service. The heads would take much longer to fix. I disconnected hoses and worked my way from the beginning of the system to the end. I seemed to clear the blockage by filling up the bowl with buckets of water and pumping those out. I can only imagine that some seaweed might have been sucked in and was causing an obstruction. That said, it still seems a little asthmatic at times, so I’ll need to keep an eye on it.

The skipper of Calloo and I watched the Red Arrows fly over the new bridge during the opening ceremony, and then up river towards us before banking over our heads.

Several days later, with our maintenance complete it was time to get back to our mooring. Unfortunately we had to pass on the opportunity to land for drinks at Blackness with Calloo because the crew and I are both carrying annoying injuries. Instead we slowly meandered our way home; not very exciting, but there are times to push yourself …and times to hold back.

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