The (not very accurately remembered) Blue Scherzo Maintenance weekend.

by Mark Hitchin

I welcomed Gerry's round-robin e-mail offering the chance to spend a day working on Blue Scherzo for two reasons. Firstly, because the spring cruise on her was a laugh a minute and I felt I owed both BS and Gerry some payback. Secondly, because Gerry shrewdly hinted that a late autumn sail might be on the cards, and I'd have been gutted to miss a chance to be out on the Solent away from the high season crowds.

The crew for the weekend consisted of Gerry, myself & three members on their first ASC Cruise but with a fair bit of sailing behind them. I knew Stuart Ritchie from a shorebased course we'd done together. He has cruised the West Coast of Scotland, the Med and recently returned from a Channel Island Cruise. John has a Wayfarer he plans to cruise in. Louise George has raced in the Solent & visited the West Coast of Scotland, the Channel Islands and the West Country this year. (Presumably not on the same trip!!!) The weekend was the perfect introduction to the club. It gave the newcomers an insight into the endless toil and hardship that Blue Scherzo crewmembers must endure. Indeed, we slaved for almost half a day in the arid November heat sustained only by an ample lunch; unlimited coffee and biscuits; generous provisions of Gosport Brewery Ale and a curry that would have made "Monte Python's" Mr. Creosote baulk. Yes, it's a bleak, unforgiving life on the Blue Sadler.

The previous night Gerry had taken BS from her mooring to Hardway SC landing stage so all that remained on the arrival of the crew was to drink coffee, introduce ourselves and shift her onto the piles where she was to spend the day.

I've often heard David Norris comment that one of the strengths of a club culture is the people have their 'ology'. A talent or skill that other's can draw on. This proved true when we looked down the jobs list. Stuart proved a dab hand with the soldering iron when working on the new VHF aerial and installing the stereo, (which I imagine will further cement BS's reputation as Ashdown SCs party boat). John had the perfect remedy for BS's ensign pole. It had been snapped in a freak swimming accident and John was able to it take away with a host of effective methods to return it to health. Gerry, as always, was mast jack and financier.

The first task required the whole crew. Before the summer cruise an attempt had been made to run a new aerial cable through the mast. This was unsuccessful so the cable had to be run down the backstay. This arrangement worked very well but there was always the feeling that the job had only been half finished, and this was the chance to mouse the cable down the mast. Someone needed to go up the mast and, needless to say, there was a clamouring of volunteers for this pleasurable job. Gerry was deaf to the pleas of his crew and selfishly hogged the chance to spend two hours getting smashed against the mast by the wash of ferries. In fact, the job went pretty well. The red plastic bucket made a few trips up and down with various tools and materials, but the job was completed with minimum drama and few hitches. The ferry wash knocked Gerry about a bit and he quickly acquired the nickname Ellen after the diminutive lone yachtswoman and plucky mast-monkey. However, speaking as the guy who had to burn calories winding him up the mast I think this is being a little too kind to our… err… upper middleweight… skipper!

With Gerry safe back on the deck lunch was fairly civilised before we got on with the work. Louise strapped on the marigolds to wash up before re-routing the VHF cable with John. I nipped up to the Chandlers and replaced the 5 watt bulbs in the forepeak with 10 watt-ers while Stuart cracked on with the other electrics.

With the tide out and the boat settled on its keel Louise and I donned scruff kit and set about the wildlife sanctuary established on the Saddler's hull. To my surprise the pressure hose I was sceptical about worked very effectively on everything except the two inch strip round Blue Scherzo's waterline. This, and the barnacles, had to be tackled with a combination of determination, elbow grease and profanity.

There were some accusations that cleaning off the hull was a pleasurable task: even some outrageous claims that the sounds of laughter had drifted up from under the keel. All I can say in reply to these wild claims is that when your co-worker hits you with a jet of ice-cold water at an agonising pressure, the primeval response is to laugh. I can guarantee this laugh is not one of joy, but if you don't believe me, I'm more than happy to meet you down at Hardway SC to prove it. I'll even put the two quid in the slot!!!

The main reason the boat was on the piles was to restore the propeller to balance by tackling a few barnacles and some weed. This required a wire brush and some of the elbow grease and profanity left over from the hull cleaning. I soon established a good technique for clearing the prop and prop shaft. A good hard scrub with the wire brush dealt with the bulk of the undergrowth exposing the barnacles. A small sharp tap with the back of the wire brush would shatter the beast and send it to barnacle heaven then turning the brush round and scrubbing hard removed the remains. I got pretty quick at it after a while.

As darkness fell (shortly after lunchtime these days) it was time for John to head off to attend a 'Laurel and Hardy' Party and the rest of us to head up to Hardway SC clubhouse for a couple of pints of the excellent Gosport Brewery "Hole Hearted" and four of their superb bar meals. We swapped stories (Stuart is a mine of information on the West Coast of Scotland and Gerry's windsurfing antics raised a laugh) and admired Hardway SC's large wooden map of the Solent. It covers from Chi to the Needles and features illuminated marker buoys located and flashing correctly. I've seen similar but smaller maps at the boat show and thought they were tacky, but this is a very different matter and looks terrific.

The evening was drawing to a close and it was time to leave Hardway SC. We'd booked a high spring tide just before last orders and as we left the clubhouse we found it had arrived bang on time. We climbed onto the boat and discussed the next step over a coffee while we waited for the last inch or two we needed to float. The high tide wouldn't wait with the meter running, but was only too happy to go south of the river so we couldn't stay on the Jetty at Hardway over night. (I think I've stretched that metaphor as far as it will go!) Since the boat couldn't stay put it seemed prudent to take advantage of the necessary move and enjoy a brief moonlit sail over to Cowes. We walked her backwards into deeper water and set off for the Harbour Entrance.

I guess all three crew members were expecting to leave Portsmouth on the usual transit, but it made a pleasant change when Gerry took BS over close to HMS Gosport and out through an inshore channel. Unlike the others I had no idea the inner channel was there so it was a completely new experience for me. I had seen a very-obviously-not-a-bilge-keel Ketch aground a few weeks previously where we crossed and wondered how he'd got it so wrong. Now I know there was method to its madness.

Our concerns that there wouldn't be enough wind were dispelled when a pleasant force 2-3 southwesterly met us outside the Harbour entrance along with a flat sea. We were able to make Cowes in a short tack South across the Solent and one long tack almost due west. Reminded me of my river sailing days. One long tack one short tack.

Warm in thermals and woolly hats we were able to enjoy the Solent at its best. There was some high cloud but the full moon, resplendent with halo, lit the Solent with a fairly strong light. Apart from merchant shipping we had the Solent to ourselves. The calm sea state and silence from the lack of donkey helped us settle into the atmosphere of the Solent in an unspoiled state that is so rarely seen.

Outside Portsmouth we spotted one thing that we found particularly worthy of discussion. We spotted what appeared to be two vessels. We couldn't see any Nav lights to indicate 'they' were moving but a bow wave was fairly clear in the moonlight suggesting 'they' were. There was also a suspicion of a port hand light, or was it just a patch of red hull caught in the working lights? It wasn't a particular threat to us but it sparked off much circular discussion until it became clear it was a single vessel with its two anchor lights drowned by a dazzling array of working lights. The bow waves were just waves lapping on the bow. We thought little more of it 'till the following day when we saw it again, in daylight. It was a largish ship (60,000 tons we later found) with it's middle section cut away almost at the waterline. We deduced that it might be a ship designed to carry ships. Louise made a note of it's name: 'American Cormorant', and the following day a web search revealed that it was indeed an oil tanker converted to carry other shipping. It has tanks that can be flooded to submerge it so other vessels with draft of up to 26 feet can be floated on. It has some history behind it - the UK government chartered it to take smaller vessels to the South Atlantic shortly after the 82' Falklands Conflict and it can carry all the vessels and cranes required to run a harbour. In its submerged state it has a draft of 60 feet which would make a low tide entry to Chichester Harbour just a little dicey. (Unless the waves were lapping around Ditching Beacon).

After a gentle sail up the Solent we furled the sails opposite the Royal Yacht Squadron and pottered up a Medina bathed in pale moonlight. Unable to raise East Cowes on Channel 80 we pressed on into the marina, picked an inviting looking empty pontoon and silently parked.

It was about two-ish so, fatigued but satisfied by an active day, we climbed into our bunks just as the heavens opened and an unexpected squall came through. I doubt it was as windy as it sounded but the rain was so torrential we had to completely shut the forepeak hatch and risk the condensation.

About 9am the following morning, Louise and I, the forepeak dwellers, were awoken by the sound of voices. Anxious not to be caught sleeping in while the others were up and about, we hastily pulled on our clothing over thermals and burst into the saloon to be confronted by Gerry comfortably tucked up in his quarter berth chatting to a fully dressed Stuart. The feudal order was respected and coffee was provided for the Skipper. He looked much as Cleopatra must have looked as she was rowed up the Nile, lounging on her royal barge, burnished with gold and purple silk. On reflection, he didn't look much like that at all… …but he was lounging like a pro!

After some gentle negotiation from Louise, East Cowes kindly gave us ten per cent off due to our early morning arrival and we were free to go. We'd planned to be away at ten to avoid the West going tide, but after bacon sarnies, a trip to East Cowes marina's excellent new facilities and a wander to buy a paper it was nearer eleven when we departed. A well wrapped up crew motored off the pontoon into a bitterly cold northerly F4 headwind. Outside the squadron we put up about ¾ of the main and Genoa and bore off onto a broad reach for Portsmouth. The Solent was a contrast to the evening before, much colder, just choppy enough for the occasional burst of surfing (but still very comfortable) but much, much busier. With a good stiff breeze we surged along at speeds on the log of over 6 knots, which made a mockery of the weak West going tide trying to impede our progress.

We swapped turns on the helm mixing it with some high tech looking racing boats and were off Gilkicker in record time. Shortly after I'd made some morale boosting cup-a-soups, in fact. By now we were old hands at hugging the wall into Portsmouth and we glided past the Submarine Tower and turned left past the wardroom at HMS Gosport.

With winter's dark cloak spread over the land BS was to end up at a pontoon at Port Solent instead of at her summer mooring. It was a tight mooring and Gerry deftly put BS into a gap exactly the width of a Sadler 32 plus one fender. It was just as well we'd cleaned the hull 'cos you'd need a feeler gauge to measure the spare space! We all crammed into my car to pick up vehicles from Hardway and went our separate ways. True to form the heavens opened just after we'd left the boat.

So that's it. A fair number of useful jobs done. Some new friends (I hope!), and arguably the best night sail of the '04 season. This weekend on BS and the excellent 'Amble up the Hamble' prove once again that late autumn/winter is an outstanding time to be out and about in the shelter of the Solent.