DELIVERY TRIP OF YACHT "KISS" FAVERSHAM TO HARTLEPOOL 2006 It was early March and it brought an unexpected phone call from a guy called Ken, who had recently bought a steel boat. He was looking for an experienced crew to bring it north to sunny Hartlepool where he was hoping to live aboard her after disposing of his bungalow and various possessions that wouldn"t fit on his new acquisition, 42inch wide screen television, three piece suite, wardrobes etc. The vessel in question was a steel Bruce Roberts designed Spray28, quite a well established design and having a respectable ten foot beam. She was sloop rigged with a roller furling headsail, and named "KISS", the name Kiss was said to stand for "Keep It Simple Stupid". The vessel was reputedly owned and built by Bruce Roberts for his own personal use and had cruised in the Med and latterly motored on the French canals, before returning to Blighty. She sounded like a good seaworthy boat, and the photographs that Ken later showed me seemed to confirm this fact. We met up at a later date to discuss the delivery and formulate a plan of action; I was given all the relevant charts and tidal atlases for the trip so that I could take them home and plan our passage. The boat was lying in a muddy creek at Faversham, in the vicinity of the Iron Wharf boatyard which was just south of the London River or the Thames as it is more commonly known. I asked Ken the usual probing questions about on board equipment, and as to whether it carried adequate spares, such as fuel filters, impellers, belts etc. He assured me that the boat was well found, and that the spares were endless, flares etc. etc. and that we should have no problems in that respect. I do remember making a mental note to physically check the location and condition of the various spares. Unfortunately this was overlooked later, in the hustle and bustle of readying "Kiss" for sea and was to prove to be a serious mistake in the coming days. I knew that I would need a trustworthy companion for the trip, as Ken"s experience was quite limited, and he had not owned a yacht prior to buying "Kiss". I made arrangements with my friend Norman who was keen to accompany me on the trip, and he could also arrange the free time from work. Norman is an experienced and resourceful sailor, and as it turned out was an excellent choice in view of the situations that were to unfold during the passage. TUESDAY 28TH MARCH We were picked up from Hartlepool Marina at 08.00hrs on the 28th March by Ken and his brother Jack, who was going to drive the car back after dropping us off at Faversham. We arrived at Faversham Creek at 15.00hrs and called at a local hostelry where Jack was staying the night prior to driving home. We had a couple of pints of the local brew, which had less body than Twiggy and lacked her sparkling character! The boat was located in the very muddy creek behind the Isle of Sheppey. At low tide there was a good deal more mud than water visible, the creek being no more than a muddy trickle. As we stowed our kit on board, we were struck by the rather cramped layout. There was one decent double berth in the forepeak, and a rather short kind of double berth that could be assembled in the wheel house, with the aid of strategically placed boards. This was fine as long as the occupant didn"t exceed five foot six! Undismayed, we secured our life raft which we had decided to bring along. We then hanked on the sails which seemed practically brand new; and checked over the standing and running rigging, hauling the sails aloft and unfurling the Genoa to check the roller reefing was running free. We then went to the local supermarket to get some vittles for the long trip home. Ken decided to spend the evening with Jack, and we chose to take an evening stroll around Faversham, in a vain attempt to find The Holy Grail, or a pub with some proper northern beer, whichever came first! Our noses led us to an acceptable fish shop first, and later in the pub we were joined by Ken, who was also searching for The Holy Grail! We were disappointed in both respects, and agreed that life south of Watford, was indeed full of privations and disillusionment! Still we quaffed a couple of pints and made our way back to the boat. I suggested that we toss a coin to see who had first choice of the bunks, and my faithful two headed coin never let me down, and I chose the forepeak. I am quite tall for my height whereas Norman being half inclined to dwarfism was better suited to the accommodation provided in the wheelhouse. The fresh air would also hopefully help to dispel the musty odour that seemed to follow his oilskins where ever he went. Ken was even shorter than Norman and slept in the cutlery drawer in the saloon. Jack had the best deal, a cosy bed in the local pub! WEDNESDAY 29TH MARCH We awoke the following morning to a grey overcast sky and a loud howling noise, Norman was in a particularly grumpy mood, "I"ll kill that bloody dog, it"s kept me awake all night", he grumbled. I didn"t have the heart to tell him that it was Ken making all the noise as he tried to unfold himself from inside the cutlery drawer. We had breakfast and made another trip to the supermarket to buy the things that we had forgotten the first time round. We returned to the boat in readiness for an instant departure at the crack of noon. It was at this point that I noticed the complete lack of jackstays and indeed the lack of any kind of anchor points for lifelines, a condition that could have had serious repercussions! We departed one hour after high water, at twelve thirty, (crack of noonish) following another boat, which failed to observe the channel markers closely enough and subsequently became acquainted with a waiting mud bank. We eventually reached Whitstable Street buoy at 14.00hrs, with the other boat now plodding along astern. With only four or five knots of wind, the sea was moderate. It was at this point that I attempted to contact the coastguard to advise them of our passage plan, and found much to our chagrin that the VHF was U/S, it was receiving but not transmitting, forcing us to resort to the trusty mobile phone. The coastguard seemed a little under whelmed by the news, but noted our passage plan without further comment. We hoisted sail with a favourable wind, and soon found it necessary to put two reefs in the main and a roll in the headsail as the wind continued to increase in strength. The boat seemed reasonably comfortable at that and so we proceeded along our chosen track, picking off the waypoints as we went. Not being accustomed to the comforts of a fully enclosed wheelhouse I found the experience rather disconcerting with no wind to ruffle my hair, forgetting the fact that I had no actual hair to ruffle. There was also a complete lack of stimulus to keep me alert, oh how I missed the refreshing odd bucket full of icy North Sea salt water making its way down my neck to my nether regions and the biting cold that made me feel alive. Here we were cosseted in a too comfortable environment, much too warm for oilies, surely this can"t be called proper sailing! We continued on our course for Tongue sand Tower on a course of 72 degrees magnetic, and duly arrived at 16.05hrs, changed to 34 degrees magnetic once we were clear. With the wind almost astern we were able to sail goose winged in moderate airs as we crossed the Thames Estuary passing another buoy at 18.45hrs as we passed a multitude of ships waiting to make their way up the London River. There followed a lively half hour, as we tried to evade a pair of trawlers who it seemed were fed up with trawling and had decided to have a game of cat and mouse; with us as the mouse! They finally gave up the chase as dusk settled in and it was at this point that we found that the compass was unlit and therefore unreadable without the aid of a torch. The speed and depth were also inoperative. We had noticed this earlier but assumed that it was due to the muddy environment of the creek, and had hoped that a bit of clean seawater would sluice away the muck and revive their boatly functions, not so! THURSDAY 30th MARCH To appease our growing hunger and restore our unaccountable feelings of foreboding, Ken went below to reheat the Chilli Con Carne that he had taken so much trouble to prepare prior to leaving Hartlepool, and put the rice on. We were soon tucking into our first hot meal since leaving the exotic climes of Faversham Creek. Our spirits were certainly lifted by the warmth of the Chilli. However it was to be a very brief uplifting, followed by a very long down casting, as the bacteria which had been lurking unseen in Ken"s culinary creation, now got to work in the digestive tract of its luckless victims! It has to be said that Ken showed no sign of distress at any time during the day; he was in all probabilities inured against the effects of his own style of cooking. However Norman and I were not, and suffered the full effects of Ken"s culinary time bomb. Poor Norman sailed all day with his head hanging out of the leeward wheelhouse window, while I was adopting various positions of inconvenience in the heads, while blessing our benefactor for the boundless beneficence of his imaginative culinary creation. Due to the foul tide and worsening weather, we decided to put the engine on in an effort to maintain a steady cruising speed. At 04.30hrs we passed Lowestoft where Ken retired to the forepeak berth leaving Norman and I to enjoy the night watch together. At 05.45hrs we left East Cross Sands buoy astern and changed course onto 328 degrees magnetic, and passed North Haisbro at 09.30hrs. Owing to the worsening weather conditions, we abandoned our previous plan and decided to seek shelter in Wells Next the Sea, as there was now a considerable sea running and with wind over tide the conditions were becoming more confused. The wind was now approaching force 6 to 7 and gusting. The seas were getting bigger by the minute and we were developing an alarming slackness in the steering as the little boat corkscrewed its way valiantly over the tumbling crests; to slide quickly down into the deep troughs beyond. From time to time we would encounter an unexpected a wave that would take us beam on, sending a shudder through the boat as it took the full force. It was after one such wave that Norman found to his surprise, that we had lost all steerage with the wheel just spinning through his hands. Using a combination of sail trim and engine, we managed to establish some control and Norman was despatched below to see what had actually happened and if anything could be done to rectify the problem. He soon found that the steering cables had become slack allowing them to ride out of their quadrants. By this time we were thirty four miles from Wells and had to make landfall no later than two hours after high water if we were to get in. It was decided that Norman would take up residence in the bilges, where he would attempt to guide the cables back onto the quadrants while I steered the boat. He later said that it was a good job that he had the prop shaft to keep him company or he might have felt lonely. I counted his digits when he went in and I counted them when he came out, they were all present, but a little frayed at the ends which I thought was understandable in the prevailing circumstances. I asked Ken to prod him with a boathook occasionally to make sure he didn"t nod off as he looked far too comfortable down in the murky bowels. We proceeded steadily shoreward for twenty four miles until about five miles from Wells the engine faded, without so much as a cough. Our speed over the ground was now three point five knots - backwards. At that moment we also discovered to our eternal amusement that the only filter carried on board was an engine oil filter, fuel filters were most noticeable by their absence. There we were after a very hard day and night sail, still up the proverbial creek and minus the proverbial paddle, and no spare one of those either. KEN! ! Norman attempted to bleed the engine while I tried to suppress a strong desire to bleed Ken, who by this time was making his way towards the safety of the heads where he claimed sanctuary. While Norman persevered with the engine, which emitted the occasional cough, I tried to contact the coastguard on my mobile phone without success. As my semaphore was a little weak, the flags being rusted up due to lack of use, this left only two alternatives, and as Norman flatly refused the first I was left with no other choice than to try and repair the radio. The VHF was reluctant to transmit but could receive; this was a little hopeful at least. I eventually found that by kinking the cable of the fist mike I was able to make it transmit, and I duly informed the coastguard of our situation but we were in no immediate danger. As we were unable to restart the engine the coastguard advised us that owing to the worsening weather, he thought that it would be prudent to launch the Wells lifeboat and bring us in. I gave our position and they informed the lifeboat crew. About twenty five minutes later at the request of the lifeboat crew we were asked to verify our latest position and fire a red flare. I also deployed my new toy, a green laser that can be seen for eight miles, (like a Star Wars light sabre) I am told that the skipper of the lifeboat will recover his sight eventually! It was fortunate that I had taken my grab bag containing flares, epirb, handheld VHF etc as there were also no flares kept on board --- KEN! ! The crew of the lifeboat soon had a line aboard by which time we were about seven miles south of our original position. I suppose it was too much to expect a straightforward tow, and we weren"t disappointed as the steering failed yet again and Norman refused to go back into the bilges, claiming that he could hear voices, and he wanted to watch the lifeboat, bless him. The tide was one of the highest of the year and we were without engine or steerage. It proved to be one of the more interesting maritime manoeuvres of the trip, full marks to the Wells lifeboat crew. We were expertly docked alongside the Harbour Masters office where a bemused Harbour Master could keep a watchful eye on us. We thanked the lifeboat crew and said that we would call the following day to pay our respects. We were in the Harbour Masters office giving our details while Ken went to lock up the boat, (allegedly) when an urgent call came over the radio from the Deputy Harbour Master asking if anyone cared to assist Ken who was in the oggin. He had fallen between the pontoons and in danger of being swept away by the very strong outgoing tide! It is ironic to think that he might have ended up back at Faversham Creek! Ken had somehow fallen into a small gap between the pontoons. What incredible luck. He managed to hang on while we rushed down to the pontoon and pulled him out. His only injury being a swollen knee I wanted to put it in a sling and fasten it tightly around his neck, but he said he would be fine with a bandage. So he limped his way down to the pub searching for The Holy Grail en route while we accompanied him, limping in sympathy, Norman of course was out of sync, but at least he tried. We returned to the boat without finding The Holy Grail, but at least the beer was getting slightly better, things were beginning to look up. FRIDAY 31st MARCH Ken"s knee was now very swollen and resembled a football; he was in need of a doctor"s visit. I enquired of the Harbour Master if it was alright to borrow a trolley to take Ken into town, and he very kindly offered to take us and pick us up again in his car. This he duly did and Ken returned clutching a fistful of painkillers and a heavily bandaged knee, I still think it would have been better in a sling! We managed to get Ken back on board without too much difficulty with the help of a bosun"s chair the boom and a bit of skilful winching. While we were at the doctors Norman had managed to locate the steering cable adjusters under the flooring and replaced the cables securely back on the quadrants. Our efforts at finding fuel filters met with varying degrees of success, but we did have to rinse and reuse the engine filter as none were available. We replaced the inline filter and also got two spare ones, we also bought some decent tools and some red parachute flares. After attempting to bleed the system we discovered that there was a blockage in the fuel pipe and subsequently found blobs of old silicone blocking it, presumably squeezed out of the inspection lid gasket. With the fuel system now hopefully free of obstructions we were ready to try the engine and only awaited the incoming tide for cooling water. Norman and I decided to kill time instead of Ken, by visiting the Lifeboat House where we were fortunate to find the Cox and one of the crew members with the RNLI Electrical Engineer who offered to take a look at the defective fist mike which I had inadvertently brought with me (honest). After a cup of tea and a chat we expressed our thanks and the Cox promised to drop the mike off on his way home. We had walked miles in search of spare parts and now our efforts were coming to fruition at last. The mainsheet which had been damaged in a bad squall was now repaired, the reefing lines were re rigged to the second reef and when the mike was repaired and refitted we would be better off than when we first set off from Faversham. Ken was still in considerable pain but not so much as to prevent him limping down to the pub and then to the Indian restaurant. We had to go along limping in unison by now; Norman had obviously been practising in my absence! This was to be one of the highest tides of the year, and the flood defences were in operation. Some water did reach the barriers and actually lapped over the top of the harbour walls, but it was a southerly wind. If it had been a northerly wind it would have been a different story, the wind with the tide could have caused serious flooding. Fortunately the incoming tide didn"t reach the pub we were in or the beer, which we thought was weak enough already. We eventually turned in hoping for a good night"s sleep; reaching the boat, we had to practically step up as opposed to down, due to the tide being that high. SATURDAY 1st APRIL (April fools day, was this to be the fifth one of the trip?) Equipped with our new found knowledge of Wells Next the Sea, the lessons learned whilst partaking of this nautical pastime, and with a much improved and seaworthy vessel beneath us, we departed at 09.00hrs on April 1st just after high water with the wind blowing a 4 to 5 from the south west which was just about perfect for our course of 245 degrees magnetic. The forecast we received on our working VHF radio gave the wind at 4 to 5 with strong gusts, sea state moderate to rough, (I hate hearing moderate, but hearing rough as well – not good, not good at all, but about par for this delivery trip). It was fortunate that we could see the squalls approaching and were able to take appropriate action to reduce their impact on us and the boat. The seas continued to build with large waves with breaking crests and a lot of spindrift, this was when the wheelhouse came into its own, as it would have been a tad unpleasant sat in a cockpit with a tiller in your hand! Ken was still laid up below, no doubt wondering what madness had driven him to buying a boat in the first place, and what the chances of selling it as soon as possible were. SUNDAY 2nd APRIL We passed Spurn Point and by 01.00hrs Flambro Head lay abeam. Once we rounded the head we found the going much more settled. It was a beautiful starlit night and with no shore light contamination was really stunning. We decided to celebrate by eating the large chicken pie which we had bought with just such an occasion in mind. The magnificent pie was placed in Ken"s capable hands, with very specific instructions that it had to be thoroughly heated before consumption. We were taking no chances this time. Norman and I were chatting about our past experiences in the comfort of the wheelhouse and enjoying the night sky picking out the various constellations, when I became aware of an ominous black cloud, but hold on I thought, this is INSIDE the wheelhouse! Sadly, our much anticipated chicken pie was being devoured by the flames of the cooker. I did not spend twenty nine years in the Fire Service without knowing how to deal with a chicken pie that was well alight, and soon had the flames under control and extinguished. Fortunately for us it was only Ken"s portion which had turned as black and as hard as coal, and somehow appropriate what with him being an old ex miner. Well we thought that he would be used to a bit of carbon with his bait from time to time and gave it no more thought apart from opening a tin of baked beans which we decided to eat cold purely for safety reasons. We were now in home waters and eating up the miles, ticking the way points one by one. By 04.30hrs we were off Robin Hood"s Bay, and Whitby passed at 06.20hrs with the sun just beginning to rise. The last of our course changes was to 220 degrees magnetic for the final 30 odd mile run into Hartlepool. We were a bit early for the lock and motored round to the fish quay. This was a rather unassuming end to a rather interesting passage which sorely tested our seamanship and resilience to adversity, not to mention our digestive systems. The one thing that we did learn is that the Holy Grail is not to be found in Faversham Creek, nor Wells Next the Sea, and if you want a decent pint when venturing south well TAKE ONE WITH YOU STUPID! Lessons Learned: Never take anyone"s word on the condition of a boat. Always do your own checking and ensure that the appropriate safety equipment is on board and in date. Ensure that there are spares on board, flares, fuel filters, impellers, spare fuel, decent tools etc. and that you and the crew know where they are kept. Familiarise yourself and crew with the whereabouts of the water pump, sea cocks, gas isolator, bilge pump etc. After any type of mechanical breakdown check everything thoroughly that it is possible to stop it happening again, and always have an alternative plan with ports that can be used as bolt holes just in case the weather turns. Mike Fellows

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