There were a few anxious moments as I unfurled the genoa,hardened up the main and headed towards the Cumbrae shore but a few tacks down channel eased the worries as I realised that my new forestay fitting was holding.
A new forestay bracket had been made from some 3mm stainless steel angle and below decks further pieces of the same angle were located athwartships under the beam shelves, passing through 50mm square oak and secured to the fitting with four lengths of 10mm stainless steel rod. lock nutted in place. It should hold for the rest of the season when I may make the structure more permanent or replace it with a different system.
Sailing off Keppel Pier on Great Cumbrae Island I was able to photograph another Honeybee Jane, an east German built boat dating from 1965 like Crunluath but looking quite different above the sheerline with a more curved coachroof and cabin windows. (see picture above) These boats would be difficult to tell apart from a Twister, I wondered if they were designed to look like Twisters, perhaps as a marketing ploy?
I continued south and made a circumnavigation of Wee Cumbrae Island in declining winds. I had intended to call at Millport but looming grey clouds to the south suggested rain was near and I headed back home to Largs.
Entering my berth I had a lot of sympathy for the skipper of a Westerly Centaur attempting to get into a berth but being repeatedly blown off in the southerly cross wind, it is not only long keeled yachts which are difficult to manoeuvre but some bilge keelers can be tricky, especially at slow speed.
Toasting my good fortune with the last of the Arran I was sad to learn recently that Mudjekewiss another Millport based Honey Bee has recently lost her mast, her owner has replaced it with another wooden mast but now has suffered engine failure – oh the joys of old boats!

Sometimes it is better not to know what you don’t know as Donald Rumsfeld once nearly said.
A lively trip to Loch Ranza and around the Kyles of Bute was the case in point.
After a lazy start with a short hop to Millport, enjoying a couple of Bottle nosed Dolphins frolicking about en route, I managed to get back to Loch Ranza for the second time in recent weeks, this time getting ashore and up the road to the distillery to renew fading stocks of the water of life.
Leaving Arran in a brisk north-easter progress to the Cock of Arran was slow but I looked forward to a quick reach down to Lamlash in the late afternoon. Instead the wind shifted south east and piped up leaving the prospect of a long uncomfortable beat against tide and wind.
I stuck at it for an hour but then sense took over and a course was set to Inchmarnock, a fetch turning into a reach as the wind veered further south and increased to a steady force five gusting six. Crunluath was in her element and a steady five and a half knots with a few bursts of six plus soon had us into the Kerry Kyle. Continuing up to Tighnabruich I opted for a night at Balnacarry Bay at Burnt Isles, a trifle uncomfortable when the tide turned and the wind swung back to north east but a good end to a great day’s sailing, the Arran was uncorked and tested for quality, it passed!
The morning saw the north-easter continuing to blow five to six so a few rolls of genoa plus engine saw us down the East Kyle to Loch Striven. I hoisted a double reefed main, took in a few more rolls of genoa, killed the engine and set course back home.
Three Maersk line bulk carriers are laid up in this part of the Clyde, I pinched to clear the bow of one of them off Rothesay and continued towards Largs in lively conditions with a good deal of pounding into the waves but comfortable despite pulling out the furling line stanchion mounted blocks whilst attempting to further reduce sail.
I was safely moored back at the marina tidying up when a passer by commented, “Should it look like that?”, pointing to the fore stay fitting on the foredeck. It was bent up by a couple of inches having pulled the stainless steel 10mm rod partially out of the stem and bent it and another securing bolt. Beads of sweat formed as I realised how close I had come to loosing the rig overboard.
It was a great trip in perfect sailing conditions but now I am back to having a floating caravan until a new bracket it fabricated and installed. A permanent solution will have to wait until the boat is ashore at the end of the season but I have a little plan, all that is needed is ingenuity, a lot of sweat, maybe a few tears in the confines of the pointy end of the boat and we should be back in action before too long.

A few days ago a friend of mine was looking at some caravans on ebay. One tatty example was declared to be “a shed”.
I have been sailing a shed this last weekend. I said to my neighbouring berth holder, “I am going sailing in a builders’ yard”. Tools were tidied up, tins, screws, electrical wiring and all the dross of an ongoing restoration job were jammed into place, snacks and drinks were placed in grabbable positions and the yellow peril was fired up.
That last action is a continuing surprise to me after years of cajoling the ancient Volvo to burst into smokey, noisy life, an engine which starts first time is still a novelty.
Heading south and west into the Tann past Millport I unrolled a bit more of the part furled genoa and started to pull away from a smart modern cruiser before he spotted me and sorted out his sail trim, it was good while it lasted but he soon pulled ahead and tacked up the Clyde channel whilst I continued towards Garroch Head in an increasing blustery nor-easter. I pulled down a reef on the main as the wind increased towards force five with some blasts of force six to keep me alert.
Into Loch Fyne a long strung out racing fleet was heading south. It must be dispiriting to be in the slower boats at the back of the fleet when the hot shots are nearly out of sight up ahead. I waited for the fleet to pass then winched in more sail and put Crunluath on her ear as we stormed across towards Inchmarnock Sound, leaving the notorious Shearwater Rock well to port. A yacht appeared to have anchored for Sunday lunch in St. Ninian’s Bay, my lunch was an apple, banana and a grabbed coffee when the wind eased as we passed the north end of Inchmarnock Island.
Near the Kames Hotel an elegant elderly cutter was making stately progress towards Loch Fyne (photo above). I didn’t get too close in case I lost heart as the “shed” passed the gleaming varnish and polished bronze and comparisons were made.
By tea time Tignabruich was astern and I dropped anchor not far from a posh motor boat in Wreck Bay, I did get a friendly wave from the lady aboard as they zoomed off at high speed in a rib, probably to book dinner at a nearby hotel. I cooked my Cumberland sausage and smoked bacon, an egg and peas. I had to use a screwdriver to open the tin of peas owing to a mismanagement of the galley kit which turned out to be tin opener-less. The mobo moved on and I was left in peace, at least as much peace as you can get 200 yards from a large gull roost. After dinner I heard an odd gargling noise and a cough. The “drowning man” turned out to be a grey seal investigating my anchor chain and nosing around for a meal.
Sunday dawned wet and misty, there had been thunder rolling around Loch Riddon the previous evening. I pottered around fixing this and that until the rain eased and a breeze set in. Overnight I had rigged what I have come to call my “Deck Saloon” in the current fashionable boat sales nomenclature. The saloon consists of a white polytarp which covers the boat from mast to cockpit, securely rigged it it quite a help in keeping off the worst of the weather but is a devil to stow when it is windy and/or wet.
I motor-sailed down the Easter Kyle until near the convergence with Loch Striddon there was enough space and wind to manage without the engine. Past Toward Point the south-east wind gained considerable strength and there were several pauses to wind in more genoa and sort minor tangles. As the Clyde shore was approached it became increasingly gusty and I eventually resorted to motoring, sails down and plugging into short steep seas towards Largs, hiding under the hood whilst the auto tiller took control of the navigation.
Cobwebs were certainly blown away, from the boat and me. One fly did manage to escape and get into the ointment, just as I was entering my berth and gave a blast of astern to stop my forward progress the engine shrieked to a stop. I had allowed my stern line to slip overboard and wrap itself around the propeller. Another little job to do in “the shed” on the next visit.

It’s been a bleak midwinter recently and it has been taking its toll. An early wakening prompted me to depart for the boat as soon as the porridge had hit the stomach. I had intended a day of much needed maintenance but a suprisingly mild atmosphere, a force 2-3 south-westerly and an urge to blow away the cobwebs had me hoisting the genoa for the first time of the year and heading out into the Hunterston Channel, south past the Polish collier unloading another few thousand tons of electricity generation. A racing crew were out practicing their spinnaker hoisting and a family crew was out taking some instruction from the hired help. Over at the south end of Loch Fyne a sail was heading north. A few dinghies off the Scottish Sailng Centre and a smart little Leisure 17 completed the total number of yachties enjoying the day. The rest of you didn’t realise what you were missing.
The varnish is peeling, the decks are green, the cabin is a shambles, there are more leaks than ever but who cares, we are sailing! (Rod Stewart fans please feel free to join in the chorus)
When I got home an email from my daughter had sent me a link to this youtube video, intended to drag me out of my midwinter blues. It worked! I can see clearly nowEnjoy!

One of the pleasures of owning an old and venerable boat is receiving friendly comments from previous owners and crews. I have recently had an email from one former crew member now resident in Thailand, the power of the blog!
Yet again I was told of the dismasting, though a slightly different version from the first I heard, how many have there been I ask myself? Maybe memories fade a little.
I can also guarantee at least one person will stop to comment when I am visible on the boat, I was even startled by a firm knock on the hull one day, only to discover a passer by trying to convince his sceptical mate that the hull was wood and not GRP. This is clearly one of the hazards of painting a wooden hull white.
I have occasionally thought about the possibility of going back to a varnished hull but the work needed would be enormous and in the end you just finish up with a hull that looks brown from a distance. Even the best cared for varnished hulls go a bit patchy in their old age. Bit like their owners really.
I am well into my mid-winter cabin fever season, the forecast shows a deep low heading towards my berth bringing rain, gales and maybe snow. Now is the time I regret not putting on another coat of varnish and paint during the summer but no doubt the old boat will survive and whilst she may look a bit care worn at least we will be ready for a quick day trip when the weather improves and paint and varnish can be added as time and weather permits, boats are for sailing not for polishing!
A few weeks ago I was enjoying breakfast in a Loch Fyne restaurant deep in the posh bit of Birmingham’s suburbs which reminded me a stunning morning a few seasons back when leaving Loch Gair heading towards Otter Spit, drifting in a zephyr of wind with the tide gently heading us south. A look up Loch Fyne revealed a symphony of blues as the sun slowly burnt off the mist, a magic moment to recall at this time of year.

Well it took a while but for the first time since June I am back sailing. Hip, Hip,etc.
A clear blue sky, a gentle breeze, admittedly from a cold north-easterly direction, a calm sea; what more can a man need except a tall ship and a star to steer her by. There were no stars and I had nothing to steer by, no instruments and the “new” batteries in the handheld GPS failed within minutes of setting out. I knew where all the shallow bits were and I had no intention of navigating to the ends of the earth. To the northerly most point of Great Cumbrae island seemed a reasonable target.
The Largs-Cumbrae ferry crossed my path three times before I got there, he had to steer round me once, I gave a grateful wave but doubtless he was too busy checking his instruments to care to acknowledge my greeting. On the bridge of the “tram” the radar indicated a course to steer to pass astern of the pesky yachtie and he followed it. It reminded me of my boyhood days in Sheffield when at the terminus of the tram line the driver moved to the platform at the opposite end, taking his operating handle with him and the conductor went down the aisle pushing the seats forward into their new positions for the return journey to the new destination.The Calmac ro-ro must beat real tram driving however.
Under the floor the new yellow peril throbbed away, a Vetus two cylinder, efficient and reliable (I hope),certainly economical judging from the miserly fuel consumption recorded, a bit noisier than I had hoped and with a couple of infuriating features. First an impossible to reach oil dip stick and an even more inaccessible water pump impeller cover should I need to get at it. Perhaps I should have made efforts to fit a Beta with its better thought out layout but the price was right, the dealer was available and it works!
I did not even bother to rig a genoa, relying on a mainsail alone and the trusty Vetus. I took a few pictures to celebrate and disturbed my son at his office by attempting to send a picture from my phone.
The lads at the yard launching Crunluath in November couldn’t really hide their scepticism at my launching at this time of year but I may get the last laugh. The Eberspacher behaved impeccably but the house batteries showed signs of strain and may need to be replaced with some of better quality. A birthday bottle of Ardbeg helped the overnight aboard in near zero temperatures after the heater had got up a decent fug and I reminisced about Maurice Griffiths and Alker Tripp’s column,”Under the Cabin Lamp” in copies of Yachting Monthly I used to read in the library as a youth, telling tales of days aboard in winter. It felt good!
Happy Christmas to all my readers.

Just when most people are ending their season, I am thinking about starting mine.
The engine is at last in the boat and a possible relaunch date is beginning to look within sight. It seems crazy to start at this time of year but yesterday gave me a good reason to think it is not only possible but even desirable to sail late in the year.
The QE2 came up the Clyde for the last time, accompanied by a destroyer and a large fleet of spectator craft. The day was not only gloriously sunny but suprisingly warm as well. It set me to thinking that I might not be as foolish as I felt. The summer’s weather has been lousy, the birds have crapped all over the boat whilst it has been ashore and a winter afloat seems positively attractive if the Eberspacher behaves itself. A day or two sailing in clear bright autumn or winter weather with a nice malt and a warm fug from the heater in the evening are a very attractive thought and it seems just as easy to get on with some maintenance tasks afloat as it is ashore.
So the die is cast, we’ll see next year whether it has been successful or not but I hope the boat will now remain afloat until at least a year from now and hopefully longer.

Several species of birds, particularly wading birds like Lapwings or Ringed Plovers, have a type of behavior which is intended to distract the watcher from what is really going on. Ringed Plovers have an especially good “broken wing” display where they pathetically trail a wing luring sympathetic birdwatchers or ravenous raptors away from vulnerable young in their nest.
This blog is just such a display.
Progress on engine replacement has ground to a halt pending the attentions of the professionals, which as anyone familiar with the boat business will know, takes time.
Instead of moping about lack of sailing I have embarked upon a long postponed plan to produce a few photo slide shows, links to which you can find on the right. So far none of them feature boats, partly because like most yachties I cannot sail and take decent photographs at the same time and partly because boats are a sore topic at the moment.
I am however optimistic for a fine autumn, one bright point in all this gloom being that summer has been so grim so far that I probably haven’t missed much.
Enjoy.
ps. I’ve relented and added a Fife Regatta slide show

Here we go again, just as things were looking up I have to look down again. This time into a hole where the engine used to be.
A lovely sunny weekend was spent clearing the decades of grot from the bilge, rescuing the numerous lost nuts, bolts, pens and one more recently dropped mobile phone which disintegrated as soon as I handled it, but at least the sim card works and it had £25.00 of airtime left. A bit of an expensive way to get a few minutes chat time but the newly cleaned and painted bilge looks lovely and there was only a small crack in a rib which was hurridly painted over before I thought more about it.
There’s just one problem now, will the new unit fit? Most modern engines are a good deal lighter but substantially wider than the old Volvo MD7a which means a need for some creative thinking and substantial shoe horn action. The next stage is to remove the current engine bearers which appear to have been modified more than once since the 8hp Stuart Turner was dropped in during the build in 1965. An engineers’ oddment box seems to have been emptied to fit the last engine, coach screws, a variety of bolts and machine screws, alloy angle and some none too fancy chisel work suggest panic stricken work with the engine dangling from a hoist tackle. Still it lasted at least twenty five years despite the lash up.
The replacement engine will probably be a Vetus 16hp, if we can get it into a position where it can be connected to the stern gear, hopefully without a replacement prop and shaft. I plan to make some templates to check the position of the new bearers which will be oak, epoxied into place.
If all else fails I will be looking for an engineer who does a nice line in articulated outboard engine brackets or perhaps a fitting for one of those long flexible japanese stern oars! The latter option could well be a problem when backing out of my pontoon berth, better budget for more fenders if this is chosen.