It’s been a long winter and there’s more to go yet but I have at last got my web site up to date with details of all the Honey Bees I know about.

It’s not a good tale, another one has been found in a poor state, Sanday, owned by the same family for thirty years has been seen at Inverness in a poor state of repair. It must be heartbreaking to see her adrift after years of love and glorious memories of years of wonderful sailing.

Crunluath could easily have headed that way, a bad case of rot has been found, fortunately not too late to be repaired and work is underway to get afloat again this year. I should have replaced a section of deck a couple of years or more ago before the fungus spores infected other timbers, it’s a difficult job but repairable.

Neither me nor the boat is getting any younger and all Honey Bees are approaching or have already passed their half century. They were not built to last this long! (maybe their owners were not either!) It is a tribute to the attractiveness of the design that they have survived and in some cases thrived. No doubt Seillean will be trundling up to Largs on her low loader in another couple of months, fresh from a winter cosseted in a shed. I had hoped to get Crunluath under cover this year but the rot beat me to it and it was a rushed job to get her out of the water and the mast removed before it fell down. In hindsight I should have just removed the mast and left her rig-less afloat but good decisions are seldom taken in panic. When you can see daylight through the hull at a chainplate a certain urgency does enter into the decision making process.

I am feeling a bit more optimistic about the new season now that planning for the repairs is progressing. Memories of a sail last season in the tail end of hurricane Katia are still fresh in the mind, several boats in the west of Scotland did not survive that gale and a few more succommed to gales of exceptional feriocity earlier in 2011.

“Worse thing happen at sea”, my granny used to intone in times of stress… too damn right grandma!

We all have ambitions, desires, wishes and cloud cuckoo plans but sometimes the simplest of pleasures are the best.

I once accidentally entered a trans-Atlantic sailing race, well actually I expressed an interest but then found my boat on a list of probable entrants. To be honest I did give it some thought before the reality of getting a forty plus year old wooden boat and a sixty something crew ready for such a voyage eventually hit home and I made my excuses and backed out!
Last weekend Crunluath made a shorter trip across the Hunterston channel to Millport, capital city of Great Cumbrae, it’s a jolly little place I visit frequently. On Sunday the purpose was to get a good view of seals. That’s nothing special to regular sailors but it’s a big deal if you a kid.

It was a great day for sailing, three to four south-westerly, sunny and warm, a regular summer’s day, less than an hour from our berth but for me proof that I still have a working boat, something I was beginning to doubt.
We saw our seals, bananaring on the rocks and singing their mournful songs. We hung around for a while, keeping our distance but getting close enough for a good view and a few photos.
On the way home we passed a very large log floating south on the tide, a helpful fellow boater reported it to the Coastguard but there was no follow up. A fast motor boat missed it by a few yards.

Off the Scottish National Sailing Centre the sea cadet’s brig was moored, we played the Pirates of the Caribbean theme tune to suit the view.

Back at the berth a DSC all ships warning startled us, we didn’t follow it up but wondered if another fast motor boat had hit the tree trunk.

Returning home I watched a wild Round the Island race on Countryfile; exciting certainly, enjoyable definitely, memorable absolutely, but not half as good as showing your grandchildren wild seals basking on a rock from a boat you spent a lifetime working for.

ps. Here’s a wonderful tale which made me laugh out loud to myself after writing my blog. It’s from Ewan Kennedy’s Scottish Boating blog http://scottishboating.blogspot.com/2011/07/tale-of-seagull-frying-machine.html?utm_source=BP_recent

Launch day is always a bit fraught for the wooden boat owner. Will it float is the question, and for how long?
Tupperware boat owners of course know nothing of this; it’s drop in, drive off for them, assuming of course they closed the sea cocks.
This year was especially worrying with the newly replaced stuffing box being the prime cause of angst, not only had it been difficult to fix in place with access tricky with the engine in place but the stern tube had to be shortened to match the new stern bearing. An excess of Sikaflex seems to have done the trick but it will be a while before I feel confident that all is well.
My mind was distracted from this problem when the hoist driver and his mate chose an unusual way out of a blocked exit, if you can’t go round go over was their chosen method. It looked pretty alarming to see Crunluath take to the air to fly over a small powerboat but she flew with ease and not a scratch anywhere thanks to some fancy pilotage. Well flown Ian and John!
A few small weeps from the planks taking up and all was well, by the time I left the pump was only operating once an hour. If you have a wooden boat and don’t have a bilge monitor, get one, you’ll sleep easier!
A voice calling from a nearby boat as I made my way to my pontoon led to a delightful meeting with the son of a former owner of Crunluath. Gordon’s family owned her for 18 years competing in events around the Clyde and west coast of Scotland, coming on board again he was pleased to recognise many original parts and identify his old bunk! It was great to have this link with my boat’s past, it makes the cold winter days of work and the lost nights of sleep all seem worth while. I promised to keep her until we can celebrate her 50th year, hope I make it as well as the boat.
“On board the boat, it’s not sinking” I emailed to my offspring. “How’s it going”, hailed Gordon the following morning. “It’s not sinking”, I replied.
Flying, floating, not sinking. That’ll do me for the moment.

ps: A few days after writing this piece I noticed the name of the boat over which Crunluath is flying….Flying Boat!

I don’t  believe I have ever left Crunluath alone this long! It has been 68 days for the worst winter for twenty plus years to take its toll… and sure enough it has.
I normally get problems with planking by leaving the boat out of the water too long, April makes way for May, the days pass by, weeks pass by and it’s almost Spring Bank Holiday and the boat is still ashore, summer sunshine does its bit and the seams open up. One year I could actually see daylight from the engine bay!
This year it’s different, bitter cold, ice and snow have got to work, not only at home on my central heating system, but in mild Largs.
Seams have been forced open and splines expelled… not a pretty sight. Presumably water has penetrated and frozen forcing them out.
Inside things are reasonably ok, batteries are well down despite the Rutland wind generator and the rot exposed at the end of last season has not improved over the last two months but the cover is still in place and the mast is still upright!
A bright day dawned on the first of February, I’ll take that as an omen, better things lie ahead. I cheered myself up by applying a coat of Danbolin to the bilge, little thing please little minds as my Mum used to say. A yottie in the midst of winter is easily amused.  It looked a lot better after I had finished so I was content with that one small step on the way to a season’s sailing. A few other jobs were undertaken but it was mainly a visit to satisfy myself that all was well.

This pensioner was looking forward to times future, another season of sailing, a few more memorable moments to keep one going through the next winter and a 46th launching for Crunluath.

Frosty winds are certainly making moan around home and apart from a quick trip by train to check security of covers and state of batteries Crunluath has had to cope with the weather alone. The Rutland Wind Generator, a 503 model, has done sterling work and batteries were fully topped up, saving on expensive marina power. Work to stop a bit of rot appeared to have worked with no further ingression of water and satisfactory drying of the worst areas affected. The anchor chain was run out onto a pallet to give the galvanising a bit of air, and fresh rain water, or snow.
Others have been more active than me in recent months, Corsair’s rebuild has progressed well with transom, planking and deck and cabin replacements complete, impressive.

Cautious 11′s voyage from the Tyne to the Thames was reported on in August. Apart from some engine and heads problems it all looked to go very smoothly. The reason for this became obvious when I received a Powerpoint presentation which the skipper had prepared for his crew. It detailed the complete passage plan, and alternatives; safety procedures, responsibilities of each crew member with tasks allocated, even berths allocated. Preparation is everything for a successful cruise and this was a prime example of how to bring the trip to a successful conclusion. Apparently the roughest part of the trip was up the Thames to the winter berth at Gallion Point in Docklands.
I have been fondling my lovely bit of bronze, a new stern bearing, custom made by T.J.Norris at a pretty reasonable cost, I really must stop fantasizing and get to work in the new year. Temperatures in Cumbria in recent weeks have been enough to freeze the bearings off a bronze stern gland and with a boiler failure it has been a bit like a chilly trip in the boat, wearing fleece and wooly hat in bed. Anchor does not appear to be dragging but boiling up the shaving water in the morning brings back a few memories.
Happy Christmas to all my readers, good sailing in 2011, Crunluath’s 46th season.

It is usually said that the most dangerous part of a voyage is when you approach the shore. I reckon the most dangerous part of my sailing year is when the boat is ashore.
My post breakfast lounge was interrupted last week by a call from the marina to tell me the mast was in danger of falling down.
With Crunluath ashore to fix the leaky stern bearing I had rigged two covers to keep off the worst of the weather. In a moment of less than lucid thinking I had disconnected both sets of lower shrouds to allow the covers to fit together better, not taking into account that even with main shrouds, fore stay and back stay secure there would still be enough flex in the mast to risk it jumping out of the deck plate. A wild south-easterly whistling down the Kelburn was enough to move the rig so violently that a dismasting was threatened. A temporary fix by marina staff saved the day despite my not leaving all the rigging screws accessible and a panic filled drive through foul weather conditions allowed me to do a permanent job.
A trawl through boating forums on the internet has revealed a wealth of information about stern bearings and stuffing boxes, and even more opinions on the effectiveness of various prop shaft seals. The most useful comments were perhaps from the American site Wooden Boat Forum with good sense, useful photographs and less ill informed comment than I tend to find on most other forums.
My research has led to the conclusion that a flexible rather than rigid traditional stuffing box is what I need. I suspect that the new more powerful engine with its’ more flexible mounts, installed a couple of years ago has caused the stern tube to leak. There is a Bullflex coupling on the gearbox which should take care of possible misalignment but maybe this was not enough to combat all the engine movement. T.Norris of Isleworth west London can supply stuffing boxes of various kinds but there are other suppliers. It’s out with the credit card time again.
“Worse things happen at sea”,  my granny always said; like most things your granny tells you, take it with a bucket of salt water.

The old wooden boat owner’s regular diet of disappointment is something you have to learn to live with. My season has come to a premature end with a steady drip from the propshaft turning into a regular flow so it’s get the boat on the lift before the batteries drain or the pump blows.
However it ended well with a wild and wet but exciting ride to Lamlash, (It’s always a blow one way or the other) and a couple of the sunniest days of the year introducing a friend to the pleasures of sailing and the deprivations of old boat ownership.
The trip to Lamlash was lively to say the least and I complicated the situation by trying to video the excitement of a force six gusting seven whilst broad reaching across the widest bit of the Clyde. Needless to say it nearly ended in tears but me, the boat and the camera survived, the camera unscathed, the boat a little battered and me well bruised. I should have remembered the definition of “later” in the met. forecaster’s parlance and I set off merrily after hearing it would be force three later forgetting that it could mean in six hours time. Only Crunluath and a wooden ketch were heading south of Cumbrae, the ketch was a hearty looking old timer which probably only breaks into a sweat at the top end of force seven, Crunluath was double reefed and down to the smallest practical amount of genoa. Reefing too late as always, I struggled to get the main into a reasonable shape after a lengthy stay at the mast getting the luff lines tight and the halyard retensioned. This effort was nothing compared to that needed to get the genoa rolled up a few more turns and I resorted to leading the furling line across the cockpit to the starboard side genoa winch to get it down to a manageable size. The resulting cross cockpit line made a nice hurdle to be jumped every time I needed to move forward from the helm.
Crunluath of course behaved immaculately, sailing itself once I had the sails balanced and needing little attention to the helm despite the bouncy ride from the seas coming down Loch Fyne on the North-West wind. About a mile out of Lamlash the bulk of Goat Fell blotted out the wind and there was a peaceful sail into the moorings.
In contrast the return trip was a lazy drift in light airs and I enjoyed sailing right up to the cliffs of Wee Cumbrae with 30 metres of water below the keel when 50 metres off the shore.
What has turned out to be the last trip of the season took place in glorious sunshine, with sparkling seas, a soundtrack of little bleatings coming from the Guillemot families rafting around Cumbrae and Gannets plummeting out of the sun like Stuker dive bombers in a war movie. At a picnic stop in Millport Bay thousands of sand eels pricked the surface of a glassy sea providing afternoon tea for a pair of Sandwich Terns flitting around the boat. A gentle breeze, calm seas, blue sky… what better conditions for demonstrating the joys of sailing. I mentioned this to the boss lady at the marina office whilst booking the lift-out. “She could get the wrong idea and think it’s always like that”, was the reply. I’ll have to study my meteorology carefully before the next trip!

Actually it turned out not to be the prop shaft packing but the inner bearing letting go of the stern tube, a nice little problem to ponder over and fix! It’ll be a bu***r to get at!