Big Brother's Watching...and so can you

You can now track Firebird's current location online:
http://www.marinetraffic.com/ais/default.aspx?oldmmsi=235099834&zoom=10&olddate=lastknown#

That link should show you our boat on a map.  If you play around, you might figure out how to display our track and other things, although I haven't had much time to play with it myself.

Firebird's track into Falmouth

A word of warning: Although possible to view the MarineTraffic web site on my phone, it works incredibly badly, so you're best off using a big computer.  The conspiracy theorist in me thinks they have made it this way on purpose, to push you towards using their mobile app (available on Android and iPhone), which is quite good, but costs around £3.

The technology that makes this possible is called AIS (Automated Identification System) which is a brilliant system that allows ships to share their location, speed and course with surrounding ships by sending out small bursts of data every minute or so over a VHF radio.  There is a worldwide network of people (i.e. computer geeks), who have installed AIS receivers on top of their houses and plugged them into their computers, so that they can receive the AIS transmissions from passing ships and put them online for everyone to see.  When we are out of range of one of these shore-based receivers, our location will not be updated on the MarineTraffic web site.  This will almost certainly be the case when we cross the Bay of Biscay in the near future, so don't think that we have sunk when we move out of range and disappear from the map!

It is compulsory for large commercial vessels to have an AIS transponder installed, which makes it really easy to keep clear of these huge, fast container ships.  As a pleasure vessel, we aren't required to have any AIS equipment installed.  These days, though, lots of yacht skippers have installed AIS receivers, so they can keep track of the large vessels.  We opted to pay a bit more, though, and install a full transponder, rather than just the receiver, for the peace of mind it would offer us.  Any ship with an AIS receiver will be able to see us on screen, which is important as, for example, in bad weather, we might not be able to move fast enough to get out of the way of a large container vessel bearing down on us.  He may well not be able to see our small fibreglass boat on his radar, nor our nav lights, way down from his towering bridge, hidden by waves and spray.  Even in these conditions, however, he will be able to pick up our AIS transmissions from many miles away and will more than likely receive an automated collision warning if there is any risk.

This investment has already paid off.  While making a night passage in thick fog, I could barely make out a light off our starboard bow as we motored slowly forward.  I altered my course to steer clear of the other vessel, but soon afterwards got a call on the radio from a friendly fisherman who could see us approaching on his AIS display.  He warned me that my course alteration was not sufficient to clear the long length of fishing gear that he was trailing behind his boat and suggested a further course alteration that would see us safely clear of it.  He wished us a pleasant trip and disappeared off into the gloom.

In days gone by, I could easily have run into the fishing gear and jammed up our prop.  I guess Kate should be the thankful one.  After all, it's hardly a captain's job to dive down under the boat, in the cold English Channel, to chop a fouled rope off the propeller.

Chain-Eating Monster Fish

Bob the welder, fixing it

We finally left Brighton!  After almost two weeks there, our stern frame is all finished and is as sturdy as a rock.  Bob, the welder we found, did such a good job and we're now confident that our solar panel, wind generator, and any soggy clothes we have hung up to dry won't drop off and sink to the bottom of the ocean, along with the frame, at the first bit of heavy weather we get (which was our worry before we got Bob involved).

We left Brighton in the late afternoon on Weds 28th Aug and put our first night sail under our belts, which was great fun.  I have already spent a fair number of nights ghosting along under canvas through the inky black and I really enjoy it.  You have an amazing view of the stars and can spend the quiet time on watch gathering your thoughts, contemplating the hugeness of the universe, and watching phosphorescence glowing in your wake.  This was Kate's first night sail, though, and was also her first time in charge of the boat on her own.  She handled it like a pro and kept us on course and clear of ferries, fishing boats and the rocky shore while I counted sheep below decks.  We ran a 3 hours on, 3 hours off watch system during the night and 4 hours on, 4 hours off during the day.  After 31 hours, we dropped our anchor in Swanage Bay.

Funny swans at Brighton Marina.  The male is called Colin

Kate commented on how hard it was to stay awake during her night watches, which she had spent staring out, non-stop, into the pitch dark, straining for any glimpse of approaching vessels.  When she heard from me that I had spent most of my time on watch reading my book, and that being on watch doesn't mean you have to literally be watching out into the darkness the whole time, she was not impressed.  She thought this information should have been volunteered much earlier on in the proceedings.

Another first was catching a fish.  Kate caught a mackerel which went straight into the frying pan and tasted delicious.

Approaching Swanage bay near midnight was a little tricky, as there were lots of boats on mooring buoys that we could only see when we were almost on top of them, as they don't show lights like a boat at anchor would.  We managed OK, though, and after resetting the anchor which didn't seem to be holding properly on the first attempt, we got ready for bed.

This was when we noticed a strange sound coming up through the hull.  It sounded like the sea was full of Rice Crispies, which were snap, crackling and popping underneath us.  Kate was worried that it might be 'chain-eating monster fish' working their way through the feast that we had just dropped off our bow to hold us in place, but I reassured her that we don't have to worry about them until we get to the Pacific.

Caught it...

...cooked it...

...ate it!

Passing The Needles, on the western tip of the Isle of Wight

Kate eating vegetable curry

Anchored at Swanage Bay, the evening after we arrived

The Big Three Oh

Our noisy neighbour

I originally imagined that my thirtieth would be spent in sunny Spain, sipping non-alcoholic sangria and relaxing with a book during the day, followed by flamenco dancing in the evening.  Instead, it was spent stuck in Brighton Marina still trying to get our stern frame welded up, under the constant racket made by the dredger operating nearby, while lugging a load of heavy tubular stainless steel around.  Nevertheless, I had a really nice day.

Kate snuck out of bed well before my alarm went off, to put banners and balloons all over Firebird's exterior.  On the inside, she made the table look nice with shiny stars and other table confetti, neatly

Firebird in birthday mode

arranged my cards and presents, and woke me up with the sizzling of sausages in the pan.

After that, it was time to get to work!  We had to make several trips back and forth to the welder's workshop, to take him the parts we needed welding on, and to bring the frame back for fittings.  The good news is that the frame is coming along nicely and is going to be way better than it was before, so even though it's causing us a huge delay, we're just glad to be making progress with it.

For lunch, we found a really nice pub behind the marina where they do a selection of unusual burgers.  I had water buffalo and Kate had kangaroo.

After more hefting of metal in the afternoon, Kate took me for a birthday surprise, which turned out to be a trip to the local cinema.  We totally love going to the cinema, so it was the perfect way to relax after our hard work.  We watched The Mortal Instruments, which was a good one about daemons, vampires and that sort of thing.

To round the day off, we legged it to the sea wall just in time to catch the sun setting, then back to Firebird for dinner, birthday cake and to watch birthday wishes that friends had recorded and given to us before we left London, which was a really nice thing for them to do.  They did videos all the way up to 37, so we've got a lot of cruising to do before we have a lonely birthday!

Sunset over Brighton

D'Oh!  It doesn't quite fit

Today (the day after my birthday), disaster struck with our latest fitting of the stern frame.  There isn't enough clearance between the life-raft holder and the boom, which is a bit of a nightmare because we'll have to take the whole lot back to the workshop, but at least welder, Bob, didn't sound phased on the phone when I told him about the problem.  He has a whole heap of experience and I have every bit of confidence that he will be able to sort it out for us.  Hopefully this will be the last time we have to struggle along the footpath by the marina, trying not to drop the heavy, polished frame!

The birthday boy

Mum's cake.  Mmm, delicious!

Waiting in Brighton

We're going to be in Brighton for a few days more.  Apart from the winds being all wrong for us, we need to get welding work done to strengthen a frame on Firebird and attach to it: our life raft, an aerial, a wind generator and a solar panel.  The welder is on holiday until tomorrow (Monday), so we're going to be here until at least Tuesday, we reckon.  Probably more like Wednesday or Thursday, but it doesn't matter too much as Easterly winds (which we need to get us down the Channel) are forecast for around that time.

To be honest, we're glad to be tucked up in the marina here.  Yesterday and last night the winds were absolutely howling - not nice weather to be out sailing in, or at anchor without good shelter, which there isn't around here.  I checked our anemometer (wind speed indicator) before going to bed and it was reading 37kts, which is a Force 8 and qualifies as a gale.

Improvised shock absorber, made in the night

We were shaken awake at 1am and had to get up to go out into the lashing rain to improvise a shock absorber on our mooring lines as the waves had found their way into the marina and, combined with the wind, they were causing a great deal of 'snatching' on our warps, which would eventually lead to damage to the mooring lines and/or deck fittings.

Store-bought shock absorber the morning after

We've been keeping busy, as usual, doing DIY tasks, but have chosen inside jobs to tick off the list.  Kate has been finishing the battery box she started making at Eastbourne and I have been armpit deep in excrement.  Well, it wasn't that bad, but our toilet had developed a leak where seawater was slowly filling up the bowl.  It wasn't too bad a leak yet, but it highlighted a very dangerous situation that the previous owner had put us in by not fitting the toilet correctly.  The bowl is below the water line, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but he hadn't fitted an anti-syphon loop, which takes the inlet pipe in a loop above the water line and back down again, to prevents seawater from flooding in.  Without the anti-syphon loop, we were relying on the small rubber valve in our toilet flush mechanism as the only line of defence between us and a potentially fast ingress of seawater.  It was this rubber valve that was starting to break that was causing our leak.

Luckily, there is a well-stocked chandler here, so I could buy the parts to fix the

Kate doing a spot of early-morning varnishing in her PJs

problem.  I took the opportunity to disassemble, thoroughly clean and disinfect all parts and replace all seals in the toilet.  She now flushes like a dream and sparkles like a pearl!  The only slight downside is that the anti-syphon valve can leak a few drops of water as it wears, or if you haven't quite set it correctly in the first place.  I had installed the valve right above the shelf where Kate's toiletries live and in my gleeful, overenthusiastic appreciation of the smooth flushing action once my handy work was done, I failed to notice the squirts of water coming out of the valve.  Some well chosen and smoothly delivered words kept me out of trouble as I explained that it was only seawater and I hadn't in fact just pumped poo over Kate's toothbrush and in any case, isn't it favourable to live in fear of a brush with faeces than not installing the valve and face the peril of sending our home into the murky depths to be claimed by Poseidon?  I personally think it's a risk we should be willing to take...so long as I'm also in charge of whose shelf the valve is installed above.

Thomas Crapper's Thunder Box, complete with grime, pre-servicing

To Dover, Dover, Eastbourne and Brighton

We ended up staying at our anchorage in the Medway until Thursday 8th August.  We got a lot of good work done on Firebird and there was still plenty more to do, but we

A neighbour in our lovely calm, peaceful anchorage off the Medway

were keen to make progress, so set sail for Dover, bright and early in the morning...except that we didn't actually get to set many sails.  We had about an hour of useful wind before it died away and we had to motor almost all the way.

We managed to navigate our way through the Thames Estuary without problem, avoiding both the large ships coming and going from the Port of London and the constantly shifting sand banks in the area.

What are these strange things in the Thames Estuary?  It looks like Water World has come true

It was a 13.5 hour journey, so by the time we had clearance to enter Dover, slipping in between the cross channel ferries, and had dropped our anchor, we were very tired.

Mandatory white cliffs of Dover photo

Following Dover, we went to Dover.  No, not a typo, we left Dover's West entrance in the morning, but the wind was completely against us and the sea state was very rough, so we gave up trying to make our way through such unpleasant conditions, turned round and went to the East entrance to spend another night in the same place.

On the 10th, we left Dover for good this time and sailed to Eastbourne.  This was actual sailing, which is much nicer than motoring and best of all, free!

The winds slowly built during the day.  We had a good spell with a lovely force 4, but by the late afternoon, we were cooking on a force 7, flying our smallest headsail and with the main reefed right down.  Seeing as we were beating dead into it, this made for a very uncomfortable sail.

Master and commander of the vessel doing...not a lot, as he rightly should be

When we got to Eastbourne, we checked out an anchorage which was far too rough given the weather, so we went to Sovereign Harbour instead, arriving 15.5 hours after leaving Dover.  On the way, Kate almost caught a tasty looking mackerel.  It was right there, within frying pan range, but managed to jump free just as Kate was about to land it.  Lucky fish!

Kate doing a spot of fishing

The entrance to Sovereign Harbour is through a slightly treacherous channel.  As we approached, I spotted a wreck on the outer breakwater, which was strange, as I hadn't seen it on the chart and it looked very fresh.  As we got closer, it turned out to be a yacht that we had been sailing with all day from Dover.  Our paths had been continually crossing as we tacked back and forth and those poor guys hadn't made good on their approach to the harbour.

Luckily for them, they had a long keeled boat, which can take to the mud reasonably well (unlike Firebird with her fin keel) and the tide was rising, so by the time we were moored up, we heard on the radio that they had managed to pull themselves off the mud and were making their way to the harbour.

Eastbourne was the first place we had been ashore onto dry land since leaving London 6 days earlier and we both felt slightly sick as it didn't feel normal to be sitting so still. 

Finding a place for the new batteries

We stayed in Eastbourne for 5 days, doing more work installing equipment on Firebird.  Amongst other things, we built a box for two of our awesome new batteries and converted a locker into a storage area for the other two.  Unfortunately, the new batteries are too large to fit in the engine bay where the old one went.  Kate was not best pleased when she saw the size of these beasts when they got delivered to us in Limehouse Marina in London.  They total 450AH capacity and weigh a ton.  I have had to be creative in explaining why we need four huge leisure batteries to replace the one modest 70AH one we had before, but I think I have just about managed to sway her over.

A lovely visit from Mum at Eastbourne

We also got a visit from Mum Mitchell, who dropped off post that had arrived after we had left London (mainly fishing tackle ordered of eBay), as well as lots of fruit and veg from the garden to keep scurvy at bay.

We set off from Eastbourne at 05:00 on Thur 15th, hoping to sail for roughly 36 hours direct to Weymouth.  After only 5.5 hours, though, as we approached Brighton, we decided that we had both had enough of the rough conditions and stopped there instead.  We had once again been beating into force 6 winds, which were whipping up a choppy sea and throwing us all over the place.  It wouldn't be so bad if we were able to rest, but at present, while under way, our bed and the seats around our table are taken up with equipment that still needs to be installed, which means that we have to spend the whole time in the cockpit getting buffeted by the elements.  Once we have got more stuff installed, which requires finding a welder, we will be able to take it in turn to rest properly while on passage.

So here we are, safely moored up in Brighton, drinking coffee and using the free WiFi at Wetherspoons to research welders and the weather for the coming week.  It looks like we might get a break from these Westerly winds, which would be great!

Firebird flying in the wind

And They're Off...

Just before midday on Sunday, after a lovely send off party/combined birthday party for me the night before, we cast off our mooring lines at Limehouse Basin Marina and waved goodbye to the gathering of friends and family who came to see us off.

Friends, family, and random gawpers waving us off  

It was a very exciting moment to finally be on our way, but the event was also shaded with sadness as we said goodbye to the people we love, knowing that it will be a while until we see them again.

We left the lock, turned down the Thames, and so began our great adventure.

Going past Greenwich and crossing from West to East longitude

We motored the whole way to the River Medway, which was a shame as the wind was actually pretty good for sailing, but the boat was in no fit state to put up canvas.  We have worked so hard over the last week, getting Firebird ready to go, but we haven't quite got everything stowed in a way that it wouldn't fall all over the place if we sailed, so were stuck with the motor.  We did about 42 NM (48 land miles) in total.

Going through the Thames Barrier

We actually stopped in Sharfleet Creek, which is off Stangate Creek, itself off the Medway.  It's a very peaceful anchorage with lots of birds feeding on the mud at low tide.  We have seen a seal and a couple of jelly fish floating by.  The seal didn't hang around long enough to have his photo taken, unfortunately.

Kate taking us past the O2 (Millennium Dome)

The original plan had been to leave here and head for Dover today, but we decided against it so that we could get some much needed sleep and continue getting Firebird fit to sail in. 

I wasn't as happy about Kate's empty hook as she was, as dinner time was fast approaching

Kate tried her hand, briefly, at fishing, but didn't spend long on it as we had too much to get done.  When I later pulled up the line that she had left in the water, I discovered that we had caught some sort of clam thing, as the hook had dragged on the bottom at low tide.

We caught something!

We're going to stay at this anchorage another night and plan on setting sail, with actual sails this time, on Wednesday, weather permitting.

Just Cruising

The great thing about being married to someone like Alex is that we both share the same great sense of adventure. We both genuinely believe that we can do and achieve anything that we set our minds to, and as a team that really makes us unstoppable. I think we both have our parents to thank for this - I hope that we will one day instil the same sense of self belief and adventure in our children.

Sunset whilst sailing in Greece, May 2012

So, as you will no doubt know by now, Alex and I have been planning for and saving towards our emigration to Greece for the last couple of years. We have bought our land, got our initial plans through from the architect, been learning Greek and generally moving towards our goal. We bought our boat, Firebird, to sail to Greece on and have been living happily on her for nearly nine months now. 

We initially planned on going through the French canals to avoid the long route around the Bay of Biscay but, following our honeymoon sailing in Thailand, decided that we would prefer to take our time and enjoy sailing the long way round. The added benefit of this is that we don't have to take our mast down as we would to pass through the canals, which is particularly appealing given we are finally getting it put up again next week, after nine months with it in our way!

Now, at some point over the period of Christmas and New Year, a number of things happened that would cause us to re-evaluate our plans for a second time. Firstly, Alex started reading a book called The Missing Centimetre by Leon Schultz, which describes how he and his family took a year out of their working lives and sailed around the Atlantic. I have since read it too, and can highly recommend it. Anyhow, ever since our three week holiday in America back in 2010 (the one where Alex dropped and popped) I keep saying we should go back to the States and do a road trip around the East Coast this time. Alex usually ignores me and says we should explore other places, but suddenly he changed his tune. His new reply was "ok, we can sail there". You what?!

"Mainsail haul!"

Of course, I initially thought he was joking and then, when I realised he was serious, a little crazy. How could he possibly think that we could cross such a huge ocean in a 28 foot boat? "No way", said I; it would be too dangerous.

Next, we started watching a series called The Long Way Round, in which Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman ride motorbikes from London to New York, through Europe, Russia and Alaska. Now this was really inspiring. It was so exciting to see them visiting so many different places, battling with so many terrains and weather conditions, meeting so many people, and making their own way there on their motorbikes. It planted a seed in my mind... We already had a fantastic form of transport, better than any motorbike... Would it be crazy not to use it to see the world? Would we ever have the chance again?

Alex and I starting entertaining the idea of a possible circumnavigation. We decided that we could follow our original plan of sailing to Greece and, if when we got there we were having so much fun we wanted to carry on, we could. I liked this idea as it left us flexible and I felt that by the time we came to the Atlantic crossing, we would be experienced enough with our little boat to take it in our stride. Thinking back on this makes me smile, as I had no idea at the time of the enormity of the Pacific ocean crossing we would have had to make before getting anywhere near the Atlantic! Somehow, both Alex and I were unaware of the size of the Pacific... Perhaps due to our maps always being centred on the UK and Europe, thereby splitting the Pacific in two and obscuring its vastness.

Storms on our honeymoon didn't dampen our mood!

So, now we were set on having the option to circumnavigate, we started researching our options. Alex had read about the World Cruising Companion by Jim Cornell, containing hundreds of routes based on tried and tested trips and weather patterns around the globe. I bought the Kindle version straight away, and began looking into possible routes. We also started reading up about rallies such as the ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) and read about the forthcoming London Boat Show, which had a special area dedicated to World Cruising, and an ARC stall.

At this point, it might be worth pointing out that when I say cruising, I mean sailing leisurely around in a boat, exploring new areas with no precise destination. Of course, within the sailing community, that would be obvious, but recently both Alex and I have been involved in confusion when using the term. Firstly, Alex and a colleague had crossed wires when talking about a Caribbean Cruise, with Alex thinking that the colleague would be sailing around the islands on a 50 foot sailing yacht, when in fact he would be seeing the islands from a 1000 foot floating luxury hotel! An easy mistake to make, I'm sure you'll agree.

Next, I found myself being ridiculed at a dinner party when talking about our cruising plans and the fact that we had joined the Cruising Association, and being asked (in between fits of hysterical laughter) not to use the word due to it having another, less innocent, connotation. Apparently, it is a term used to describe the act of looking for casual sex, particularly in a public place. How this passed both Alex and myself by, I do not know... It has come up a few times since then and, upon enquiring with friends and younger family members, it seems that most people are aware of this alternative usage; I guess I must be getting out of touch with the youth of today!

Anyhow, with that matter addressed, let me continue.

One night, whilst lying in bed, Alex and I started chatting about the cruising routes in the World Cruising Companion. The shortest circumnavigation route from Europe takes two years and is sailed from east to west, in order to make the most of favourable weather conditions and trade winds. Our idea of sailing to Greece and then deciding whether to carry on was starting to seem illogical, as we would either be retracing our steps to get back to the Atlantic or fighting against the wind all the way around the world. I put it to Alex, "we both know that we want to sail around the world, so shall we just decide now and do it before going to Greece?" And so, it was decided.

We'll be needing a tender and outboard, much like this

Now we were really excited. Imagine, not only were we going to emigrate to start our amazing life in Greece, but now we had decided to sail around the world in order to get there! However, now there was timing to think of. We had planned to emigrate in March 2014, due to wanting to sail there over the summer months and earn more money over the coming year, but now our route required that we be leaving the Canary Islands to cross to the Caribbean in November. This would mean leaving the UK in the summer. If we were to delay until the summer of 2014, we wouldn't arrive in Greece until summer 2016, by which time I would be nearly thirty-five; thirty-six by the time the house would be built. As much as we love our life of freedom and adventure, Alex and I have always planned to start a family, and I was worried that this might be leaving it a little late.

As I have many times before, I started saying to Alex that we should leave this year, only this time I had a real justification. We could earn more money for our house later, was my point, whereas starting a family could not be so easily delayed. We should, I said, set off this August, and just aim to earn and save as much as possible over the remaining six months. Perhaps it was reluctance to delay our leaving date further, or maybe the fact that he is so keen to have a baby, but this time, Alex agreed! And now the planning really started.

There's nothing quite like a good hard deadline to get you motivated. Suddenly, we became very aware of just how much we needed to do before setting sail in August. Getting the boat ready with a mast, new rigging and all sorts of new gadgets like an SSB radio, a water maker and wind generator, to name a few. Getting ourselves ready with First Aid and Sea Survival courses, vaccinations, travel documents, visas, the list goes on. It all adds to the thrill that is experienced when planning some big adventure. The excitement of counting down the days, not quite sure if you are wishing for more or less of them, occasionally pinching yourself to remind yourself that it really is happening. Knowing that you will never be here, enjoying this moment again.

And so, here we are. Preparing for the biggest adventure either of us us ever known. Our destination firmly in our sights; the deep blue sea. From there onwards, we'll be just cruising.