Tidal sailing

I am currently in England on holiday and had the chance to do some tidal sailing on a friend's boat. He keeps it in Saltfleet, a tiny drying harbour on the East Coast of England. It's a drying mooring, meaning there's no water at all during low tide.



Unfortunately the boat even sat at an uncomfortable angle, so we had to sleep in the club house, or one of us would have fallen out of the bunk.



Waiting for the tide to come in we ended up in a pub. Bingo,



Sunrise occured at 3.30am. Don't ask me why I was awake. I just was.



The tide started to come in during the morning.





Not enough yet...



Finally



And sailing.

First sail and blatant advertising

The first daysail of the season occured today. I went out to an island, anchored and had coffee. Sailed home. Made a boring video. Almost froze my hands off when I hauled up the anchor line out of that ice cold liquid I was sailing in (or on). It was quite warm and sunny, though and the wind was good.



I'm aware that I've been a little quite in here, but I can now reveal that it partly was due to me writing and publishing my second novel. It's called Miss Anna's Frigate, a spy story in Sweden in 1809 (there was a revolution here then, for those who didn't know - which I guess is about everybody...). This time there are no tiny gunboats, but a lot of snow and steamy saunas and a real frigate action, too. The book is now out at Amazon.com. See cover pic in right column.

Little Grace to Finland

Sometimes small boats make long journeys - but not always by sea. I have just updated the Alacrity blog with a cruise report of the unusual kind. The journey of Alacrity "Little Grace" from Coventry, UK to Finland - by trailer.

The report is here.

Vivacity pictures

Giles Watling from the UK sent me these pictures of his Vivacity, aptly named "Boat".

His story: " I have a Vivacity 20 (named 'Boat' - not very creative, but apt) which is very similar to your Alacrity which I keep in the Walton Backwaters - Arthur Ransome's 'Secret Water'. We have everything from quiet little creeks to the busy harbours of Harwich and Felixtowe. If you can cope with the tides it's a great cruising ground. I attach a couple of shots from a cruise this spring, one featuring my friend Bob looking mighty relieved after we got out of the way of a very large ferry. Keep cruising - Giles"

Red Fox 200T

T-K had an article about the Red Fox twin-keeler in one of the pdf-issues long ago. Now I recieved this first hand account from an owner, Guy Wilkes from the UK.

The Red Fox / Hunter 20 has been around in various forms for a number of years. We have had our RED FOX 200T since the end of 2004, spending 4 enjoyable years with it based on the Norfolk Broads and more recently on the River Orwell in Suffolk.

With a draft of only 0.7m (2ft 3inches), the twin keels of the Red Fox make it ideal for the inland waterway network of the Norfolk Broads, and for the creaks and coastal areas of the East of England. Who needs a depth sounder when you can see the bottom!

Down below the accommodation is open plan but surprisingly roomy for a boat of this size. There is a V-berth up front and two straight side seats giving 4 berths (realistically enough room for 2 adults / 2 children). Moving aft, there is a simple galley with a sink, cold water tap and a stove to port. The separate heads compartment with a sea toilet, sink and cold water tap is situated to starboard. To have a separate heads compartment is quite unusual on a 20’ boat.

The accommodation benefits from having no intrusive centreboard box or lifting keel. The Twin keels have allowed the designers to really use the space inside and we have found that there is more space in this little 20 footer than on many 25-26fts.

We have added a Spray-hood and full cockpit tent, which increases the “usable space” in the evening (or when it is wet) and to allow for a bit more flexibility.

The twin keels of the 200T make launching and recovery a bit more challenging than say with a conventional lift keel yacht. The single axle trailer has a separate 4 wheeled cradle for the boat, which then sits on the trailer and is winched into and out of the water (the theory being that the cradle gets wet and not the trailer). All I know is that from my experience everything seems to get wet including the person recovering the boat. However it avoids those expensive lift in / lift out charges that most of the marinas seem to charge these days.

We trail the boat behind a standard family estate car, which is fine most of the time. However we do struggle on some steeper slipways during recovery. If we used a small 4x4 it would probably be slightly better and solve this problem. However for us we manage.

Sailing the boat, she tends to (and actually needs to be) sailed fairly upright. The keels are set quite far apart with their roots quite close to the waterline. Despite having the shallow draft of 2ft 3inches she remains remarkably stable (which was one of the key requirements for the family). We do seem to sometimes slip sideways more (in certain conditions – lighter airs for example) but perhaps that might be down to the helmsman rather than the boat. The big bonus is being able to sail single handed and having all lines coming back to the cockpit.

Under power we use a 4hp Mariner Outboard which sits in a well in the cockpit. The big advantage of having a cockpit well is that we don’t have to struggle lifting the outboard over the stern. We do of course loose some cockpit space.

We have found that there are not that many boats of this size that can comfortably accommodate 2 adults and 2 children overnight (or even for a week) and that are equipped with a simple (but functional) galley; have a separate heads compartment and on top of this still have decent sailing qualities. For us the Red Fox ticks all these boxes.

The twin keels means that we can take ½ tide moorings and not worry if she sits on the bottom. In fact on our present mooring she is still afloat most of the time. As an added bonus is the ability to be towed home at the end of the season and sit on the drive for the winter months. Suddenly our hobby is much more affordable than one might initially think.

For those that are interested, Select Yachts stopped building the Hunter 20/Red Fox 200 last year when they ceased trading. However the boat is now being built by British Hunter and is now known as the British Hunter Fox 20. It is available with Twin Keels or Twin Lifting Leeboards.

A junk-rigged Twin-Keeler

According to some, this boat, being a junk rigged bilge keeler, should not be able to go to windward at all. But it does. On this new blog you can read about its adventures. The sail handling really seems very easy. 

Modern twin-keelers: Bi-loup 30

Most twin-keelers discussed in this newsletter are older boats, many as old as 30 years or more. But there are still twin-keelers in production today, in the UK as well as in France. One of them is the Bi-loup 30, produced by Wrighton Yachts, apparently a French company despite the English name. The yard produces twin-keelers in three sizes, the smallest and oldest design of 7.6 meters length and the other two 30 and 36 feet long. All are twin-keelers with a modern looking underwater shape, but a somewhat clumsy looking coachroof, which, I am sure may appeal to some people because of it's quite spaceous interior. Here are some pictures of the Bi-loop 30 from their website. Pictures of the other boats can be found there.
The yachts are marketed "for family cruising, with maximal habitability, both inside and outside".

Cruising as a Way of Life - part II

This engineless approach to cruising also reintroduces another pleasure, largely forgotten by many sailing people nowadays. It is the enjoyment of that richly thrilling moment when, after a prolonged calm, the sails first lift and swell to a hint of a breeze. The joy of laying aside one's oar to ghost effortlessly forward under drawing canvas was one of the great delights of sailors from Homeric times to the late nineteenth century. We have forgotten it. If we are motoring through a calm, the very special music of that first subtle wind-induced trickle around the bow is invaribly drowned out by the engine's roar.
It appears that we live in a strange age. Not only do some people laugh at the unfamiliar sight of a cruising yacht being rowed, but a few even consider it cause for a rescue attempt. Last summer, while happily sweeping Galadriel out to sea in search of a breeze, I was overtaken by a wouldbe rescue boat that roared up alongside. When I said good morning and politely declined their offer of help, the couple in the poweboat asked med what, precisely, I was doing. I answered that I was rowing.
"Gosh", the young fellow said, "I've never seen that before!"
I love oil lamps and hate the glaring excess of electrics. Even the riding light that my little sloop carries while anchored overnight is a small oil lamp. It can be seen from a distance of half a mile, yet it doesn't so grossly flood the anchorage with glare that one cannot enjoy the delicate glitter of starlight overhead. I'm afraid that my love of fellow yachtsmen fails altogether when their 500-watt masthead lights turn a dark, lonely cove into something like a floodlit supermarket.
My fetish for primitive lamps, however, seems to amaze many sailing people who come aboard. They ask if oil lighting isn't dangerous to one's health. When a friend complained of the smell of kerosene, I replied that, to me, it is the smell of freedom.
The essence of small-boat cruising is freedom from fuss and bother, of which there is plenty in our everyday lives ashore. A tiny, featherweight cruiser is the most trouble-free craft afloat. Many of my sailing friends have a mortal dread of going aground. If their 5-ton fin keelers get hung up on the rocks, disaster is a virtual certainty. By contrast, when Galadriel goes aground (as she does frequently), she sits comfortably on her shallow twin keels in two feet of water. To get her off, I simply jump over the stern and lift her clear.
Everything aboard my boat is crude and simple. If a boom fitting breaks, I just make another. The originals, after all, were merely handwrought bits of steel, rather than fancy items purchased in a yacht chandlery. If I drop a heavy anchor onto a bunk cushion and split it open at the seams, it doesn't matter. It's easy to redo my own rough handstitching. When her bottom needs a coat of antifouling paint, it is a simple matter to paddle her over to the beach and go gently aground. The cost of upkeep is almost nothing - an essential prerequisite to carefree sailing.
The shallow draft has introduced me to a special cruising pleasure denied to larger, deeper craft. I have discovered that British Columbia's rocky coast abounds in tiny cracks and crannies into which I can paddle my little boat. Inside, in water that may only be a couple of feet deep (and totally dried out at low water), I luxuriate in a private anchorage, while more conventional yachts cluster together in droves in the more usual anchoring spots.
Occasionally, I have watched a larger yacht, at the end of a cruise or a daysail, tacking back and forth in the harbour for an hour while someone tries without success to start the engine. Without power, of course, the owner of a big heavy-displacement vessel dares not to attempt the entry into his berth among the ranks in a crowded marina. My little pocket cruiser, on the other hand, works her way handily under sail into the thightest corner. If she does happen to drift out of control in a cramped spot, a gentle shove with the foot is enough to redirect her miniscule inertia and avoid collision.
Yet a little boat ot good design can be a fine offshore sailor, too, as is evidenced by Shane Acton's circumnavigation of the world in a Caprice class sloop like my own. While he was in Australia, Acton was offered the chance of an unbelievable trade - a new 30-foot ocean cruising yacht in exchange for his intriguing little 18-footer. He turned down the offer.
Like Shane Acton, I own a simple little boat that I know intimately and love dearly. It would be sheer folly ever to exchange her for the illusory attractions of something grander.

Philip Teece

Reprint: Cruising as a way of Life

Another of Phil Teece's articles in reprint. This one was first published in Small Boat Journal #68, 1989.

It is a calm summer evening just at sunset. In the stillness characteristic of this hour, among the wooded islands of the British Columbia coast, my little sloop Galadriel lies motionless on an inverted mirror-image of herself.
Her intended anchorage for the night, a sand-fringed lagoon on the lee side of a small densely treed isle, lies less than half a mile distant. If she had an engine, I might perhaps be tempted to ruin the magical quietude of this place with its jarring din.
Instead I step forward along her narrow side deck and unship the 10-foot sweep from its upright stowage position on one of the lower shrouds. Without hurry, I drop its long leather collar into place in the oarlock beside the cockpit. Then, standing with the tiller between my knees for control, I begin a slow, quiet oarstroke that moves the boat forward, gradually gathering a sedate knot-and-a-quarter speed in the direction of the cove. At this pace, it will take me perhaps half an hour to reach the spot on which I shall drop anchor. But why should I want to get there any faster?
Later, as my little ship lies peacefully in the gathering darkness of the lagoon, I go below for supper. While a can of stew warms up on the single-burner gimballed primus stove, I light the lamp. The tiny cabin glows warmly (and, in fact, actually warms up) in the mellow light of my bulkhead lamp. This small kerosene lamp is all that is needed to flood the compact space with a glory of light. Although supper is a primitive meal eaten from the billycan in which it was heated, it provides one luxury: Cleanup afterwards takes only about 20 seconds.
After the evening meal, I recline on my bunk with a good book. The ceiling is a scant few inches above my head, but I feel as comfortable as pampered royalty. The flickering orange glow that illuminates my page reflects dimly from painted wooden surfaces and casts deep shadows in the angles behind hull-frames and deckbeams. As I lie on the handsewn cushion of my bunk, my feet project forward almost into the open chainlocker in the forepeak. In fact, my living space is small enough so that, without moving from where I lie so comfortably, I can reach across to the galley counter to grasp my cup of coffee.
The style of cruising described above is unfamiliar to many yachtsmen of the 1980s. In recent years, I have encountered increasing numbers of people to whom a "small" boat is something of 27 to 30 feet in overall length, with a powerful engine, electrical wiring for lights and other elecronic gadgetry, and a built-in dinette and bar. To a surprising majority of the cruising fraternity whom I meet in various West Coast anchorages, my spartan 18-foot sloop is an object of dismay and even disapoval.
Yet, nearly two decades after her launching, Galadriel still represents my dream of the perfect boat for adventure. Her smallness and simplicity have become my way of life afloat. A shoa-draft design ny British naval architect Robert Tucker, she is a twin-keeled Caprice class sloop, a little over 18 feet in length and 1,600 pounds displacement. She sails well (a fact I learned fully when I finally gave up using and outboard motor), and she can be moved surprisingly easily by oarpower.
I enjoy depending on sail and oar. In more than one emergency situation, I have found that an outboard engine has failed to start; my long spruce sweep has never given that problem. The technique of rowing a vessel with a single long oar is onethat takes considerable practice. When the oarsman develops skill in balancing the turning-moment of the oarstroke against exactly the right counterpressure of the helm, he enjoys a great sense of physical satisfaction. There is a sort of pleasurable Zen of rowing with a sweep.
To be continued.

Twin Keels Shoal Havens - part II

Part II of this reprint by Phil Teece.

Sometimes I suspect that I am a slow learner. During my earliest years of cruising aboard Galadriel I followed the big, deep keeled boats into what might be described the guidebook anchorages. There my diminutive sloop would lie to her fathoms of chain i a depth of water sufficient at all tides to float a Grand Banks schooner. My experience of cruising in those novice days was that good anchorages were always crowded.
Eventually, however, a revelation materialized. On my way to the big harbours I frequently looked through narrow, rocky portals that led into shallow basins where, as often as not there was a foot or two of water. And I looked at my boat. Galadriel is a British Caprice class sloop, designed for use in the tidal estuaries around the English coast, where it is a common place for a boat to spend part of every day aground. Why was I not using her as she was designed to be used?
When I looked at things in this light, I realized that there is literally no place too tiny or too shallow to be a secret haven for a little twin-keeler like Galadriel. Any hole in the wall that I could look into, I could probably sail, or paddle, into.
Thus unfolded my secret cruising world, the alternative universe where one never encounters anybody else. In our crowded era, such exclusive havens are a gift to sailors willing to cruise aboard very small craft.
Yet not every shallow-draft boat will serve as a magic carpet into these hidden realms. I see a lot of small craft nowadays, many of them twin-keeled or centerboard boats, that I would not want to risk in Galadriel's regular shelters. Not every boat whose draft is a mere few inches is really a practical shoalwater cruiser.
In fact thin-water capability is not really so much a matter of draft as of design and construction. When cruising among the drying creeks and rock crannies, a boat must not only lie aground, but also occasionally endure a bit of pounding at the return of the tide. Few modern production pocket cruisers are designed to knock about aground as a normal habit. Most small bilge-keeled sailboats today haul keels that are a part of the hull molding, with the ballast poured inside. Often I have watched such craft being towed into the boatyard in a sinking condition after contact with a rock. Where a keel is an extrusion of the hull itself, a hole in the keel can fill the entire boat.
So I have learned to appreciate the qualities of the Caprice's old fashioned construction. Around England's coasts, where boats traditionally lie on moorings in estuaries that dry out at every tide, small cruisers are routinely fashioned to disdain groundings. Galadriel's twin keels are not an integral part of her hull. Each is a heavily built wood laminate shod with a 300 pound ballast shoe of bare cast iron, the whole structure bolted together through strong floors within the hull. When she grounds on stones or hard sand, the massive iron castings that make the contact with absorb the shock without harm to the hull.
A boat of this sort, whose design and strength I can trust, has been the key to exploring the infrequented shallows.

Continue to part III.

Back to part I

My Adventure Begins

By Mark A. Tucci

First, I’ve had a few trips with a friend on his sailboat. Then I though I would like one for myself. I watched E-Bay for some time, until I found one that was of a price I could afford. After successfully wining the bid on an Alacrity 18’6” in November 2006, I had to take a trip to Maine, over 200 Miles one way. It was an easy run up there; the weather was quite warm for that time of year. The boat was at that time named “Under Foot”, it look to be in fair shape. But it needed lots of work to get back up to speed. The trailer was what looked like a serviceable item also, except the tires were weather cracked, but I hoped I could make it home with no problems (not to be).
We used some duct tape and wrote In Tow on the back of the boat, with no plates for the trailer we could think of nothing else to do.
The Trip back started out good. The tires were a little low on air. So we ventured around the area for a while, looking for a gas station to put air in the tires and get some gas. Not having much luck, we used a hand pump on the trailer tires to keep them up for now. In the process, my friend and copilot found a seafood market where he bought a couple of lobsters and several pounds of shrimp to take back home. Now we were set for a while.
Finally we found a service station to get gas and air for the tires. They were down even more than they were to start with. After filling up with gas and air, we decided to add a can of fix-a-flat to help stop the air leak.
Finally feeling set to get going safely, we headed home. On the Interstate we went flying along blissfully for several hours. All the sudden a tire blows on the trailer. Having pulled over to the side, we check to see how bad things are. Not very good: the tire was shredded, it was getting dark and no spare to put on. (OH GREAT!)
Now the fun begins, having traveled using a GPS system, I checked to see if there was a service station close by that would be able to repair the flat. No luck again, so I call 911 for help. They dispatched a state trooper to help, after 30 minutes of waiting the trooper finally shows up. He checked us out and said we needed a tow truck to remove us from the thruway, Great! an expense that I did not count on or need. Again we waited approximately another hour before the tow truck shows up, he loaded the boat and trailer on the flatbed truck. Away we went to the service station to fix us up.
After another 20 minutes run we get to the station, only to find it closed for the night. The tow truck driver was of great help by calling around to see if there was any place to fix the tire. No luck again, every place was closed for the night or weekend. He gave us a couple of places we could try in the morning. With location in hand we head to the place to check it out, they will open in the morning, good!
Next to find something to eat and drink, as it has been a very long day plus I need to call home and tell my wife that. First the towing service ($175) and now a tire, too. So just down the road we find an all night dinner and finally get something to eat. Then back to the truck to get some sleep for me, while my friend stays up and goes back and forth to the diner getting some ice for the lobster and shrimps that are starting to smell. After a somewhat rough night of all most sleep we go back to the tire store to buy a tire, decided to get two new tires just in case ($65 each).
With new tires we head back to the service station to change them out. That part didn’t take too long and we were on the road again. After a few more hours driveing, there was a noise in the truck wheel some where. We pulled over to try and find what the problem was now. The best we could find was a wheel bearing was going in the back wheel ( Again Fun!).
Now I had to take it easy or be in it deep. After a long nerves stressed and a little luck we made home (36 hours instead of 14 hours). I drop the boat at a friend’s home for the winter for I had no place to put it for the time. That ended the trip and the start of reworking the boat.