Issue 8 - March 2000
Chairman Membership Secretary
Editor
Robert Gray Alan Holland 10 St James
Avenue
5 Trinity Grove 115 Station Avenue
Thorpe Bay
Greenwich Wickford Essex SS1 3LH
London SE10 8TE Essex SS11 7AY 01702
588199 (FAX 01702 589021)
In This Issue:
Introduction
Fitting out has started for us all I guess, In between the scraping
and painting I have managed to edit this latest edition of the Dauntless News. I
hope you enjoy it.
I had to do some serious rebuilding this spring. A lot of rot
in the cabin side and bulk-head and replacing keel bolts and keel band. The latter
was the most difficult (and painful), see article û 'Keelbolts û a painful
story'
One benefit of being Ed, is that I can publish a picture of my
boat 'SWANTI' above, sailing from Brightlingsea last year. Why not take some photos
of your boat this season and send them to me to publish in future newsletters.
2000 Subs
Let me please remind you that the 2000 subs are now due, send
them to Alan Holland and please make cheques payable to 'The Dauntless Association'.
The subs remain at £3 per year.
We also have plenty of Burgees if you want one. They are £15
each including postage, again from Alan Holland.
Dauntless Association web site
One of our members Mark Ellen has kindly donated the Association
some space on a web site, we have had two mew members! Well dome Mark and note
the web site detail . http://www.cix.co.uk/~mellen/dauntless/
New Members
We welcome aboard the following new members to the Association:
No Name Boat Home Port
72 Alan Staley (Hon) Exhibition stand host and boatbuilder
73 Nigel Bishop MEMORY Paglesham
74 Mark Wigg LUNED (1728) ashore Yorks
75 Doug MacEwan SHEBA Hullbridge
76 ` Andrew K Holland has an interest in RUTH (1036)
77 Edward Wall MATUKA (1620) Hoo (Medway)
78 John Smith LULU (ex POPPET) Truro
79 Cyril Jacobs Vital Spark Bosham
Many members will know that ever since the formation of the Association, Faversham
boat-builder Alan Staley has generously allocated a corner of his trade stand at
the Wooden Boat Show to us for our recruitment stand.
Mark Wigg is refurbishing LUNED, one of the last wooden products
of the Dauntless Company, built in 1975. Edward Wall's 23' motor cruiser MATUKA
has 24 horse-power at her disposal! John Smith is our first recruit via the DA Internet
site. Never let it be said that Dauntless owners are stick-in-the-muds, except at
low water of course! LULU is a 23' bermudan cutter with Yanmar diesel. We don't
yet know her Build Number. Our other two new boats were not built by Dauntless,
but are very much in the Dauntless spirit. Nigel Bishop's MEMORY is a thoroughly
authentic (and fast) 16' gaff clinker winkle-brig built by the late Frank Shuttlewood
at Paglesham, while SHEBA is a very attractive clinker lifeboat conversion, gaff-rigged,
with leeboards. The vey latest member is Cyril Jacobs who has purchased VITAL SPARK
and is currently based at Shepperton on Thames.
Event Calendar for 2000
The AGM will be held at Faversham on Saturday May 6th
2000 at 7:30pm,. The location again will be the Shipwrights Arms in Oare Creek.
Should you wish to attend by boat, we will meet at Harty Ferry to take the flood
up Faversham Creek, departing at
0300 am Sunday morning, alternatively one can travel by road.
As usual, the Shipwright Arms do
excellent food and the beer is great. Please contact Robert Gray
for berthing arrangements.
Dauntless Association Rally and Dinner at Benfleet û
change of venue
This year we have been invited as guests of one of our members
Ray Large by the Halcon Boating and Club to use their club house the 'Mississippi'
, based in Smallgains creek, Canvey for our 'pilgrimage' this year. As you may know,
we try to have a rally at Benfleet each year to celebrate the place on Canvey where
Dauntless boats were built.. The creek is just to the South and at the mouth of
Benfleet Creek on Canvey Island.
We will have a barbecue this year and there is a bar in the club-house.
The price of the barbie is £7 a head for the food. I need to know if you wish
to attend ASAP so that we get the catering right!
The date is Saturday 15th July 2000. High water will be 12.38
but will need to be 'up the creek' soon after the top of the tide. We will star
the barbecue at about 7:00.
For those who will be going by boat, I suggest meeting (as last
year) to the West of Southend pier at about two hours before HW (10:38). We will
not have so far to travel so should be berthed within 1 ½ hours. Please let
me know if you will be going by boat and Ray will organise a comfortable berth.
For those travelling by road, get onto Canvey Island, turn left
at the roundabout and go into the town centre. Keep left in the one way system and
carry on to Canvey Point. There is a small roundabout here and go over the roundabout
and there is a opening about 200yds where you will find the Mississippi over the
sea wall on the left.
Overnight accommodation is available at the Oyster Fleet Hotel,
which is on Knightswick Rd Canvey tel 01268 510111. The Halcon Boating Club is about
1 mile away.
Manningtree Festival
We have been invited to join the OGA (Old Gaffers Association)
for the Manningtee Festival on Mat 20/21st. There will be a free mooring
at the Manningree Quay and the Sailing Club will lay on a part for us with food.
It is particularly appropriate for shoal draft vessels like Dauntlesses
and if you would like to attend, please let myself of Jon Wainwright of the OGA
know ASAP.
Paglesham Weekend
The Paglesham weekend was a great favourite last year and Alan
and myself would like to invite you again to our 'neck of the woods'. It will be
held on Saturday 30th Sept at Paglesham. Again, we will book a meal at
the Plough and Sail where we would welcome any members who would like to go there
by land or sea. Please let me know if you wish to attend.
Mailbox
Dear John
Thank you for all the stuff you've sent, I've just got the mast
details, Unfortunately I can't quite understand the letter. This could be because
I am a complete novice to sails and sailing gear! More of that later. I'll start
at the beginning.
We saw this boat sitting outside a pub in the garden and noted
it's looks, wondered what it was doing so far from the sea. Months went by and then
she was moved down the road to another piece of ground. Still no sign of any work
being done, I got a bit worried as next door lives a tree surgeon and general dealer,
who owns chain saws, axes, etc à., so I made enquiries. " Oh yes",
he said, "I've been asked to cut it up"! I go the owner's number and went
to see her. Turns out she's been a sailor but had no time to run a boat currently
(children), so wanted the next best thing. She was given LUNED by a Mr Easto of
Harlech, was going to put it in her garden as a sort of shed.
Unfortunately the crane could not do it, too far for a reach
over the wall, so she asked the above chap to saw it I half, then they would have
another go.
Astounding, anyway, I persuaded her to let us buy it for the
price of the transport from Wales. So we, and the boat, are lucky. Friends didn't
think so, muttering about hole in the water into which goes all one's dosh! Very
probably, but we've all been there before and hopefully have learn't something.
Basically the boat is in goodish condition except for a 1'
square hole in three planks, starboard side, just aft of the keel case. Seems she
sat down on a block of wood at the yard. Nothing too terrible. Also needs ½
doz frames steaming in same side. No bilge keel, same. Cabin side rotten to soft
same side, aft. Is it one piece of Mahogany?
All paint and varnish re-doing etc. The hull generally seems
good. Tight, no rot. Slight softness on top of two planks next to garboard, outside
hard. Been out of the water three years.
There's no gear excepting a tiller bar, bilge pump, what I
think are shrouds (nice bits of stainless rope with shackles on the end), chain
in forward locker, plastic sea loo (got a brass and bakalite Baby Blake in the cellar).
The engine was a P55 Stuart. Really fancy a diesel, preferably a 5LW, but that's
a bit big.
My sister and I just sold a 16' Hinks of Appledore launch
that we kept on the Mawddoch estuary (Gwynedd) and that had a Stuart. Very nice
when the go. Got a bit fed up with the electrics, always something wrong with the
ignition.. We put a coil and an alternator on, seemed to fix it, but I don't think
I'd go to sea seriously, with one as a main engine. What do you think? Do members
use them on long passages? I know there are ails, but I am an engine man and would
like to know that I could get home if the main blew out or whatever.
My experience is all engine boats so far, my friend and I
decided it was about time we learnt to sail, so we leapt at LUNED. We are beginning
to realise how much we didn't know.
I worked barges on the Trent and Humber, carrying aggregates
for some years (100-500 ton), various cargoes on the canals, civil engineering work
etc, but no sail, So, you see, we need to understand the principles of what we are
doing before we start making masts etc. I'm a cabinet maker, have re-built wooden
narrow-boats and various clinker stuff, so I am not worried about the hull and cabin,
it's just the 'cloth engine' stuff. Perhaps I could visit one day in the new year,
ply you with a beer while you disgorge your knowledge? I've lots of questions to
ask, but, basically, want to know what kind of a sea boat is a Dauntless 23? The
shape looks good and beamy, sea kindly. Are they capable of deep see work? What
is the main design purpose? While I am not planning to round the Horn, I'd like
to know what they can do.
As a start, Nigel and I are going to a navigation class at
the Poly. This year, I think we shall concentrate on putting the hull and cabin
to rights, fit an engine (the yard just torched the shaft, didn't bother to unbolt
gearbox flange, so we need a new shaft as well. Prop's still there. (Terrible what
people do), and maybe launch.
We need a trailer. Do you know of one for sale or hire, as
we do have to move the boat to our place? Do you think a Volvo 240 would pull it,
or is it too heavy? What do boats weigh less gear?
Must go to sleep now, have sent form to Alan Holland. Any
above questions you can answer would be grateful.
Regards
Mark Wigg
PS what is her draft, board up? 18"?
21st January 2000
Dear M Langrick,
We are the proud owners of SEAMEW a Dauntless cruiser presumably
built in 1953. We took her because she's the most wonderful pocket cruiser we ever
see.
When we found her, she needed a lot of care, and still need.
Starting from almost nothing, we had to make some change for safety reason and a
year of work had already past.
Our boat is now waiting for the rigging and the inside building,
but she' safe and don't take on water anymore.
We will sent you some pictures of our boat when she will be more
advanced in her rebuilt.
We are member ship of a French association in Marseille Avenir
Tradition Marine which are trying to show the beauty of having and sailing on traditional
wooden boat.
We would like to be members of your association...
We hope to show you SEAMEW one day during one of your events
in UK or why not in Marseille...
Yours Sincerely
Claire-Sophie Laussu Ship's girl, Cook on SEAMEW.
Sylvain Brogniart Captain,Sailor of SEAMEW
John,
Ebba Brahe has had the break in the keel braced as you suggested
and the new engine, prop etc is in place. There is some tidying up to do. I am looking
forward to a lot more sailing this year. I should have had the keel bolts done,
or at least the ones under the engine while the
engine was out. It'll have to wait until next year. I would be
very interested in your keel bolt story.
We put the Bowsprit on last year and it has made a great difference
to her sailing, particularly going about. I'll dig out a picture.
Here is a description by my girlfriend, Jackson Kingham of our
first trip in Ebba Brahe. It is funny in parts, it would make a change from
things technical or sea-doggy to have a "Birds" view
of things!
I'm glad the Web site has had one hit!
Regards Mark. Ellen
Mark kindly allocates some Web space to the Dauntless Association
and Jackson's article is later in this newsletter
- Ed
John,
Many thanks for your post. We have only just bought "Lulu"
(last week in fact), and so far have just spent a couple of fun days checking her
over and doing a bit of a re-fit. She is at the top end of Restronguet Creek, with
virtually no water except at springs. So we will have to wait a while for a suitable
tide and weekend to move her out of there to our mooring up-river.
All we know about her so far is that she is a fairly late-build
Dauntless but with small side-decks, 23 feet LOD, beam about 8 foot 6 ins. I can
find no builder's plate or number anywhere on her so far. She was formerly at Bosham,
when she was called "Poppet", then at Combe Creek on the Fal when
she was re-named "Lulu", and then at Devoran. She now
has a Yanmar 1GM10 diesel, bermudan rig, roller-reefing main, and roller-furling
headsail.
Construction is mahogany on oak throughout, with pine t &
g decks. The interior seems very original, with four berths and about 4 foot 6 ins
headroom. There is a photo of her in John Leather's article on Dauntless in "The
Boatman", issue 24.
We hope to give her a thorough re-fit and paint job this spring,
then enjoy cruising the creeks and backwaters of the Fal estuary.
John Smith
Not Drowning but Waving
Jackson Kingham (mate on Ebba Brahe)
Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against boats, especially
the Dauntless, I just can't handle them bobbing about.
As a child I was regaled with stories of my family's seafaring
past; How my great grandfather had stepped over the edge of a cliff navigating his
way home by following the North Star, how Uncle Dick somehow managed to have an
aspidistra cutting from the Lucitania after she went down, how Grandfather delighted
in describing his methods for 'turning her over and scraping the barnacles off her
bottom' much to the chagrin of the vicar's wife who was trying to explain a remedy
for labour pains at the time. My cousin had built an entire yacht complete with
rigging in the attic before realising he had no way of getting it out and my own
Father created several anxious moments in his youth by attempting to sail across
the sand banks in Liverpool Bay in a DIY cardboard dinghy.
So with a line up like that it's hardly surprising I was a bit
apprehensive about buying a boat with Mark.
My own sailing experience was negligible. I'd sloshed about in
a couple of Wayfarers on a lake in the 70's and just about knew what a centre board
was. The reason I knew this was because when crewing in a PGL regatta I noticed
too late we had set sail without one. I'm more of a rowing girl myself.
The first time I saw her was on a chilly May evening in Langstone
Marina, a soulless wasteland of regimented fibre glass and women in gold crested
sandals. Ebba Brahe looked totally out of place in such a sterile, character less
setting. There she was, a matron amongst daffodils, a fuller figure, Dawn French
sort of shape, none of yer Kate Moss racing jobbies. She heaved and rocked gently
on her magnificent oak beam, the very picture of stability and reassuring comeliness
and I was hooked from the moment I set eyes on her. She looked so safe, so sturdy,
so unsinkable.
We rocked gently for a couple of nights in this God awful place
and there came the time when we had to make ready and leave for her new home in
Christchurch - a mere few inches on a road map but it might as well have been New
Zealand as far as I was concerned. For my own sanity there are two absolute positions
I need to maintain: Being vertical (when awake) and horizontal (when asleep). I
don't tolerate well any angles in between - which is not ideal for a sailor.
My faith in Mark's sailing ability was absolute and Ebba Brahe
instilled a quiet confidence in me, after all, she hadn't sank for two whole nights
aboard in the marina - a first in our family history.
Mark did a lot of chart measuring and engine checking and pulled
the sails up and down a few times to make sure they were attached to things, the
sort of stuff sailors like doing and talking endlessly about. I did eminently practical
things like cleaning the stove, counting tins of beans into the locker and waterproofing
the loo roll.
The plan was to get her out of the harbour, turn right, try and
avoid the QE2 if possible and keep going until we got to Christchurch. That was
my plan anyway.
According to the charts there were all sorts of detours and diversions
to take into account - currents and sand banks and shipping lanes and stuff which
meant this wasn't going to take the couple of hours I imagined it would. "But
it's only 36 miles." I complained.
Patiently Mark explained that we would do the trip in two legs,
personally I'd have preferred on two legs but didn't say so; First we would
get to Lymington, stay the night and, weather permitting, complete the journey the
next day. He only cursorily mentioned Hurst Point at the time, something to do with
tides and currents or something - no mention of hurricanes, tidal waves, massive
loss of life, annihilation and destruction on a large scale. Oh no, just a whisper
of 'it might be a bit bumpy round Hurst Point'.
It was agreed that due to my lack of sailing experience we would
motor the whole journey. Only if the weather was clement and perfect would we attempt
to put the sails up. This being May I was on a pretty safe bet there would be no
sail hoisting. However, I was getting rather a taste for all this nautical stuff
and practised my port and starboard shouting with a 50% chance of getting it right
each time.
The Brit Sprite engine sounded reassuringly regular in its splutterings
as we pulled out of Gin and Tonic land and headed for the harbour entrance. The
day was grey, uneventful and wind free, the forecast for more of the same. People
shot Ebba Brahe admiring glances as we pootled past doing a massive 4 knots and
trundled into the real live sea. This was an occasion for me. I'd never, apart from
ferry journeys, been out in open sea before. She moved about a bit but not much
and as we headed for Southampton Water I released my grip on the cabin lid to get
the blood flowing back into my fingers. If this was what sailing was going to be
like I liked it.
The thought had crossed my mind that whereas Mark was buying
a sailing boat to coast hop around Britain and possibly take in France or Ireland
sometime hence I had bought into a floating caravan with the additional benefits
of sea air and a permanent rocking motion. Now I was quite enjoying the swish and
exhilaration of cutting through real water. Buoys and markers took on a whole new
fascination as Mark explained what each was and how we had to go round them.
By the time we reached Lymington, early evening in complete calm
and a smattering of sunshine, I was raring to go. My courage grew by the inch. We
hadn't had to abandon ship and had come several miles. This was another family first.
At some ridiculous time the next morning - I hadn't banked on
all this 'going out with the tide stuff', we attempted to leave Lymington. A slight
hiccup arose with reversing out of our mooring. The crew is supposed to untie the
boat first, still I had yet some to learn.
Past the river and out to sea again, the wind was a maiden's
breath and the sun making a better than average attempt to break through. I could
tell Mark was itching to hoist at least the jib and, if the truth were known, so
was I.
He suggested we turned right out of the harbour and went a little
way into the wind so that I could experience what Ebba Brahe was like under sail.
Fine by me.
For a glorious hour we wafted up and down, going about, getting
the feel of the sails. I pulled on the sheets, becoming cocky. " Can we hoist
the main sail?"
At this time we were pointing in the direction of Southampton
again and all was well. I admired the dogs in their little life jackets. I forgot
to mention we had two dogs with us. They appeared to be enjoying themselves but
it's hard to tell with dogs. Food had been involved - getting them on the boat involved
a biscuit. Getting them off the boat involved a biscuit. Meeting other people on
other boats at Lymington involved three course dog meals so they were well happy.
As we turned West at a leisurely pace I noticed two things: The
sky had become decidedly grey and there were a lot of boats out of Hamble ahead
of us. The boats, as they neared Hurst Point seemed to be leaning rather dangerously
at a 45% angle. Surely this was just a trick of the light?
What had been a tender lapping against the side of Ebba Brahe
suddenly turned into a sharp slapping noise, a sort of, 'I'm not telling you again'
kind of slap.
We steamed ahead, the engine uncomplaining and the jib tensing
against the wind.
As a lay person I can only describe our position thus: Both the
wind and the waves were behind us at this time. It seemed, to me, a good idea to
press on. The mainsail and jib were both up and we appeared to be going at considerably
more than 4 knots.
For anyone who doesn't know it, Hurst point is a narrow channel
between the Isle of Wight and some castle on the beach the other side. Something
called the Needles (which we don't mention) is somewhere around and 'Abandon Hope'
is the catch phrase for those in the know.
At this stage we were heading towards Hurst Point in full sail
- so I guess both the wind and tide were behind us - my mind usually goes blank
at this point and I try to deny to myself it ever happened.
"Take the helm" Mark said in not his usual silken tones.
Now I have never taken a helm before. The stick you steer things with had been beyond
my comprehension. Unlike a car, it operated some obscure system whereby you push
the opposite way to where you wanted to go and this took a little getting used to.
I manned the stick nervously, amazed at how heavy the boat was to manoeuvre and
we snaked around for a while until I got the hang of it. The dogs began to take
on that worried look dogs get when there's nobody around with a can opener.
At least the engine was still going, although it sounded decidedly
less reassuring than it had the previous night. It had developed a cough.
Mark, on the cabin roof, was going to attempt to take down the
mainsail which by this time was full to bursting. He'd already reefed the jib -
a thoughtful move. "Head to wind." he shouted.
There are all sorts of things written in psychology books about
'fight or flight' and I definitely identified myself as the flight sort of person.
All this turn and face the foe stuff has never appealed much to me. So it seemed
reasonable that if the wind and the waves (which by this time were getting aggressive)
were behind me, it was only natural to run away from them as quickly as possible.
As long as the engine kept up, I could run away from the nasty
things happening behind me so I carried on my course towards Hurst Point with fierce
determination.
I couldn't understand why Mark was playing silly buggers hanging
around off the boom, which was now way out over the side of the boat, and not getting
on with getting the sail down. This was no time for party tricks.
Ahead of me I could see all these swanky yachts leaning at precarious
angles. In most cases their keels were showing above the water and this seemed wrong
somehow.
" Head to wind!!" came this cry again from somewhere
off the starboard bow.
The dogs were looking like dogs do when they've done something
awful on the carpet. But there was no way I was going to turn and face this, by
now, furious wind and waves breaking over the bow. The fact that they were breaking
over the stern instead hadn't quite dawned on me.
The up and down motion I could just about handle. It was the
side to side rolling that was so off-putting. It felt like I was in the slow spin
cycle of a washing machine and it was really hard to keep a hold on the tiller -
so I let go.
A strange physical phenomenon had taken place: My knees didn't
seem to work any more and had become pliable and jelly like. I'd let go of the rudder
or helm or whatever the hell it's called (why do sailors have so many names for
the same thing?) and was now in a heap on the cockpit floor, whimpering.
Somehow Mark had managed to haul himself back across the boom
and onto the cabin roof. still tugging at the mainsail and shrieking some technical
details about heading into the wind or we'd all die. It was difficult to hear what
he was yelling because of the noise of the rescue helicopter hovering over us. We
never did find out who called them but they were only making matters worse because
the down draught and noise only served to make me become even more hysterical. If
they thought for one minute that I was going to be prized off the cockpit floor
and winched into the air they were very wrong.
Totally against my better principles, not to mention female logic,
I pulled on the tiller and just by chance we turned around and headed into the wind.
The sail immediately stopped flapping and the boom resumed its normal position.
Waves began breaking over the bow as we headed away from the
dreaded Hurst Point. The sky however looked greyer and bleaker the way we were going
so, regaining my legs, I yanked the tiller again and turned Ebba Brahe once more
into the direction of HP. The boom swooped over the side again and Mark resumed
yelling. I couldn't win. Go one way and we got covered in spray and appeared to
be going the most unnatural way, go the other and everyone was shouting (or barking)
at you. We carried on like this for some minutes, going round and round in an insane
kind of quadrille, me instinctively heading the boat away from the wind and Mark
wrestling the tiller from my grip to head to wind.
Greater, however, than my fear of waves breaking over the bow
by now was the disorientating sensation of being sideways on to the waves every
time I tried to wrestle the tiller back. Somewhere in the quivering mass of goo
that was my brain it clicked that sideways on wasn't a good place to be so I gave
up following my instincts on a point of principle and gritted my teeth as we sped
toward death and destruction at Hurst Point - backwards.
With the wind, the rip tide and the engine behind us I reckon
we shot through the hour glass channel doing about 150 knots. It was a curious sensation
rather like aquaplaning (or being in the Poole lifeboat but that's another story).
To either side of us lay the beached shells of swanky yachts who hadn't got their
sails down in time which I suppose was some consolation.
The feeling returned to my legs about halfway across Christchurch
Bay and I was able to get up off the floor and resume my grip on the cabin roof
- the nail marks are still there.
We continued our journey, the sea now glassy and the weather
merely drizzling and pale grey. By the time we reached the Muddeford Cut and slid
into the flat calm waters of the Bay I'd stopped weeping and the dogs were looking
rather less green. As we rounded the bend to head up the Avon to our mooring in
the peaceful, leafy backwater, Hurst Point seemed a long way behind us and I even
managed a brave smile. We had made it home. Ships brandies all round.
Some time after this escapade I was talking to an elderly neighbour
who had been a torpedo boat captain during the War. Why there were torpedo boats
off the Isle of Wight I never knew but he said he had sailed all over the world
in all kinds of seas and conditions and the only time he had ever been scared was
once - coming through Hurst Point. I swelled inwardly. The family would have been
so proud.
Continuation of restoring SARAH JANE
Tim Jepson
In the March 1999 edition of this newsletter I wrote about
the acquisition and early stages of the restoration of my 20' Dauntless "SARAH
JANE" (1209)..
The job started with a good clean up to get rid of the rubbish,
flaking paint and general grime inside the hull. Then some planking repairs were
carried out, followed by fitting new timbers throughout the cabin area and liberally
coating everything in raw linseed oil, (to date 3 gallons have been used). I had
ordered some Oak for the replacement sheer planks at the same time of getting the
Oak for the timbers, all of which were planking grade.
I had to make a new steam chest to accept the planks as my
steaming pipe was not large enough, and while I was in "steaming mode"
I steamed them and bent them round the sheer, temporarily securing them with cramps
and screws and left to set.
Although Sarah Jane had a spruce hull, the sheer plank was
African mahogany and in a right old mess, with repair sections let in around the
Bow and large areas crumbling away. The Oak replacement is a much better job altogether.
Once I had finished the re-timbering, I turned my attention
to the centre board casing. This proved to be a lot more trouble to remove than
I thought, largely because the previous owner had lined the case with sheet metal,
presumably to stop leakage. Once this was out, the woodwork came out fairly easily,
the brass screws of course were rotten. The joint at the base of the case was In
perfect condition after all the white lead had been removed.
I made a new casing out of 1 1/2" Opepe. Which is African
hardwood with good durability, and fitted it to the Oak upstand on the hog using
Sykaflex and silicon bronze screws. Hopefully it will have a long leak-free life.
The evenings were starting to open out so I could spend the
evenings down the boatyard working in the open. The next area of interest was the
cockpit, I started by removing the non-original cockpit locker sides, (she originally
had open seating without lockers). I also chucked out the last of the cockpit sole
and had a good clean up and dry scraped the hull and re-varnished it, but in other
places I had to resort to my £5 car boot sale heat gun, which is really a
splendid tool. This job went on for ages, scraping round the timbers and clinker
planking takes a lot of work if you want a good finish. The final varnish result
was excellent, the cockpit now has the patina of an old clinker dinghy. I was amazed
how the spruce planking cleaned up despite it's 49 years. The inside of the transom,
deadwood and shelf log also had the same treatment and came up almost like new.
I found it difficult to believe that this little boat was going to be cut up and
burnt, it would have been a great shame.
The next major task was to think about the sheer planks. We
were now into summer '99, the weather was settled down and there was plenty of cricket
on the radio to listen to whilst working. The replacement Oak planks were removed
from their temporary fixings and were stowed on the cabin top, and the original
crumbling Mahogany planks carefully removed in as long a length as possible so they
could b used as patterns. I found a good way of removing the copper nails was to
grind the 'clench up' part off the top of the rove and just punch them out from
the inside. It took some time to shape and fit the new planks but they look splendid
now they are sanded down.
There were also a few planking repairs to do on both bows
on the second plank down and to give access to the cramps I decided to remove the
deck, which had to come off anyway. The deck beams were in good order and got a
good soaking in raw linseed oil. The main deck beams were Oak but I noted some Elm
ones as well. I suppose they used whatever was at hand in those days of rationing.
It was the turn of the main cabin bulkhead to get some attention
next. This was in African Mahogany and suffered terminal rot. It was carefully dismantled
on the assumption that some of the planks may have been of some use, but the lot
was scrapped in the end. I had purchased a pile of African Mahogany and Iroko for
the rebuild and cut out new boards for the bulkhead also the same time I cut out
replacement deck beams for the cabin top ready for the deckhouse rebuild this summer.
After rebuilding the bulkhead and giving it a coat of varnish, it did look very
good. I left the doorway still unfinished as it was so much easier to get in and
out without climbing over it.
Towards the end of last summer, I made a start on the cockpit
seat framing and sole bearers. The bearers were made out of Iroko, secured with
silicon bronze screws and I cut out new Iroko bottom boards. After that I made a
start removing the remains of the original seat framing, carefully measuring things
before removal so the new seatings would be the same as previously, and then made
up the new framing to form the new cockpit side lockers. I had acquired stern locker
doors from 'CATHY', and these were trimmed to fit and then cleaned up and varnished.
I made a start on the forward cabin bulk-head, cleaning off the paint and crud,
but part way through the process, it fell to pieces due to nail sickness (steel
pins would you believe on a boat) anyway it made it a bit easier in a way as I took
the whole lot down and worked on it outside on the bench.
The interior up to the chain locker has now been painted cream
and looks very nice, compared with what it looked like this time last year, I feel
I am making real progress. The main job for this summer is to rebuild the cabin
top and re-lay the deck. I would also like to fit the bilge keels and get the Stuart
Turner sorted out and fitted, but there is also a 1935 Riley Kestrel car to be rebuilt
as well as my 1922 motor launch which needs some minor work and a complete paint
job, it will be a busy summer.
Round The Oyster Patch
by Alan Holland
Last season RUTH attended the DA Annual Dinner at Benfleet
YC, then spent a week browsing round the Medway and Swale, before returning to Paglesham
via Havengore Creek. Part of this cruise was covered in the last Newsletter. As
most Thames Estuary members know, navigation rights through Havengore Creek and
bridge are controlled by the Ministry of Defence as well as by the tides. Boats
have right of way at weekends and bank holidays during daylight hours when the tide
serves. On weekdays the Shoebury and/or Foulness firing ranges are usually busy
with trials and the disposal of time-expired ordnance, although passage can sometimes
be secured by prior negotiation with the Range Officer. That's why it sometimes
makes sense to stay out for a week, unless you want to return by the Whitaker Channel
and R Crouch.
Let's rejoin RUTH in Peter Dodds' craning berth alongide Iron
Wharf, Faversham, on a bright Friday morning at HW. The previous day here at low
water, RUTH was still afloat in a dredged pool, while a mere six feet astern, the
stempost of Peter's beautiful sailing-barge MIROSA towered over us; she was adry
on a high mud berth. Her bowsprit, at twenty feet the same length as RUTH, was steeved
up over our cockpit.
We'd had a breezy week in the Swale which was fine, but I
didn't fancy crossing the estuary in those fives. My son Kevin had to be home in
Woking by Saturday afternoon, so to be on the safe side we had made provisional
arrangements to leave RUTH in a mud berth at Alan Staley's
Faversham yard. We could then get home by train on Friday. But the forecast had
come right, SW 3©4, so we said our farewells and cast off at 0930.
Below Iron Wharf we passed Lena Reekie's 20' Dauntless LINNEA,
on this neap HW still adry on her bank of mud. As we passed I noticed that LINNEA
has double-sheaved blocks on her running backstay tackles. RUTH has only singles,
and its impossible to swig them in really tight. Not that its essential from the
rigging point of view, but they are very handy to hang onto when you are enroute
to and from the foredeck. So that's another job on the list.
We followed sailing-barge GRETA down the winding creek past
Hollowshore, where we got a wave from the crew of CORAL, a lovely little wooden
yacht of 1938 vintage who we had towed in the previous morning in blustery conditions.
Her Brit Sprite had failed on a trip from the Medway to Ramsgate.
Out in the Swale, the light breeze had gone Easterly, so we
tacked gently out to the Pollard, then headed in across the Seasalter flats towards
Whitstable, the last of our targets for the week. The harbour was nearly dry, but
that was not our objective. There was still plenty of water at the bottom of the
beach, and we anchored well in off the RNLI station. We paddled round her checking
the bottom as she would soon dry out, and when she was settled we walked up the
beach for lunch. I lived in Whitstable during the early fifties, so after checking
out some of my old haunts (I am a graduate of the Oxford Street PrimarySchool, and
the Sea Cadets as well as the Pearsons Arms, the Neptune, and the Prince Albert),
we looked round the harbour, now of course devoid of barges and oyster smacks, and
had our fish & chips.
Then back aboard, where I promptly fell asleep; Kevin went
off in the dinghy and rescued another which had been cast adrift by kids while the
owner was ashore. The wind was an ideal SW3 as the tide made over the flats, and
Kevin got the anchor then set up sail. Our original idea was just to get out by
the Columbine Spit for the night, anchor 'til low water at 0400, then start across
to Essex. But as we passed the Columbine, the obvious dawned on me: we had a perfect
breeze, more than two hours of flood, and a much better anchorage would be off Warden
Point. So we carried on, luffing slightly to pass well south of the Spile, and at
2130 anchored in 5 metres just off Warden. This was the first time all week thatRUTH
had lain afloat at night. Our previous berths having been Thorpe Bay, Benfleet,
Upnor, Lower Halstow, Conyer, and Faversham, we had slept on sand, concrete, shingle,
and mud; but mostly mud.
After mugs of tea and a quick supper, we sat for a while in
the cockpit looking at the lights on Sheppey, and the distant freighter traffic
amongst the flashing buoys of the estuary. We listened to some smooth jazz on the
radio, and thought what lucky guys we were. Then Kevin set his alarm for 0400 and
we turned in. In no time at all it beeped and I put the kettle on. We now had 2
metres under the keel, and the wind was still a very steady SW3, so I got the anchor
and let her drift while the riding-light down came downand the sails sere set. Kevin
appeared in the cockpit with the tea, trimmed the sheets and put her on a heading
slightly East of North.
When crossing to or from the East Swale, the Spile buoy and
Cant Beacon are normally on track, but this morning they were well to the East.
The Cant Beacon is now a massive ruin, as are many of the historic seamarks of the
Estuary, such as the South Girdler and the Barrows, since they have been abandoned
by Trinity House, the PLA and everbody else. In the dawn light we passed between
the E Cant buoy and W Oaze to starboard, and the Medway channel buoy to port. A
segment of pale pink sun appeared over the horizon behind the Red Sand flak towers.
We sighted two large container ships, but both appeared to be at anchor so there
were no worries as we passed Sea Reach No 1 close to port. At this stage one usually
looks out for the so-called Artificial Island, a heap of shingle right on the edge
of the Maplin Sands. Apparently it was part of a feasibilty study for London's third
airport, but is now covered only in gulls' nests! If heading for Havengore, it's
a useful staging post, especially when approaching on the ebb from up-river.
On this occasion though we passed to the East of the island,
heading directly for the East Shoebury Beacon, now derelict and forlorn on the grey
edge of the Maplins. RUTH had made good time and we were early on the tide, so we
brought up at the sands' edge (what else could we do?). It was 0700, so we had breakfast
of course. Whenever I'm in this area I'm usually slightly puzzled about the position
of the South Shoebury buoy. Is it me or is it gradually moving South and East? It
never seems to quite tie up with the chart. At least you know where you are with
the artificial island.
HW was 1029 at Southend Pier so in theory Havengore bridge
would open from 0830 on. It takes about 45 minutes to cross the Maplins to the creek
entrance, and in a Dauntless you can start across at half-flood. So that's what
we did, heading just about North. The trouble is that for a while you don't see
anything; nearly halfway over there's a wreck beacon which if you are on course
you will leave about a cable on your port side, then you may just see the Broomway
beacons, amongst others. Even in a Dauntless it's a good idea to keep offshore until
you have reached the Broomway, which you approach, together with the low anonymous
shoreline, at a very acute angle. There is no indication of the creek entrance until
you reach the Broomway, then you look hard to port and there it is, bridge and all.
The exception to this is if some thoughtful outward-bound chap causes the bridge
to be lifted, when it can be seen for miles.
There are times, such as in a brisk No'theasterly, when becoming
embraced by the banks of Havengore Creek can be the most comforting experience a
small boat sailor can have. The sudden transition is heartening. You can cross the
Maplins in no more than three feet of water, and have breaking seas coming into
the cockpit. Deep water sailors cannot believe it. But not today; everything was
indeed smooth sailing, just the way I like it.
In the calm confines of the creek not a signal or sign was
exchanged with the bridge, it just went up as if I had pushed the button myself.
Bidding the keeper good morning, we bore right into Narrow Cuts, rejoined the Middleway
and passed through Yokesfleet into the R Roach. We picked up our home mooring fifty
minutes before high water. Who needs the Whitaker?
Keelbolts û a painful story
John Langrick
I don't know about you, but I always have jobs that I put off
to the next year. The call of the water as the weather changes is to great and the
job that I had every intention of completing in the Winter gets put off once more.
The keel bolts on SWANTI is just such a task. In newsletter
4, Ed White explained how to replace these bolts. In this article I explain how
I got on.
For years I have been noticing the tell tale signs of corrosion
problems - rust marks around the garboard and keel forward, and rust marks on the
keel around the dead-wood aft. Other signs were rust stains around the hog both
fore and aft inside the boat. All these have indicated that corrosion is taking
place.
The bolts for attention are at points A and B in Fig 1 above.
In early model Dauntlesses, these are copper rods clenched over. On later Dauntlesses
they are 3/8" mild steel bolts. You can check simply by looking at the heads
of the nuts. These are square nuts and the bolts have 'coach' heads on the lower
end.
There are a further set of bolts at the base of the centre
case, but these will have to wait for another year.
To start I armed myself with a 3/8" hardened steel punch.
This I bought from a precision tool maker for £3.50. I also bought a metre
length of 3/8" (or metric equiv) stainless rod. I had some heavy hammers and
borrowed a lump hammer from fellow members in the boatyard. All I wanted now was
the weather.
Early this year it rained incessantly and with huge puddles
in the sodden earth around the boat I resigned myself to some wet work. I guess
we Dauntless owners get to know mud intimately.
The keel bands simply fell away. They had corroded so that
hey just left the copper screws in the Oak keel. A pair of pliers removed most of
these, but a few snapped off ( as you might expect). Starting at the bow I cleaned
the compound surrounding the coach heads of the bolts in position A in fig 1and
Fig 2, û (still raining).
I have a very heavy iron weight, used in SWANTI's forepeak
as ballast. I lugged this lump out of the forepeak and dragged it to the cockpit
and with the aid of helping hands threw it overboard and dragged to the bow again.
With the help of blocks and cursing and swearing, managed to jack it up under the
keel leaving room for the bolt to be driven out from the inside. This provided a
counter weight for my hammering inside and was hoped would minimise any damage to
the garboard seam. For all the bolts I positioned the weight in the same way.
Back in the dry of the cabin and with a cabin light on (The
boat has a heavy winter cover over it), I slackened the nut to a position where
the nut head was the same level as the top of the bolt. Then with a few sound lump-hammer
blows, managed to push the bolt downwards. I removed the nut and another hefty blow
put the head of the bolt flush with the Oak apron. The punch then drove the bolt
almost through and with about 1" of bolt remaining, and skinned knuckles, I
poured Cuprinol in the hole. The idea was to soak the seams. After a 30 min soak
the bolt was driven completely out.
SWANTI was built in 1969 and this first bolt removed had wasted
about 75%. I suppose that is not bad considering 30 years of immersion, but note,
SWANTI is not the oldest Dauntless aroundà
I replaced this bolt with stainless studding and had to make
a slightly larger recess under the keel to accept the stainless nut and washer on
the outside and ensure that when I replaced the keel band it would be snug. I speared
Sykaflex all over the thread and drove the stud in from the outside of the boat.
I then proceeded with the rest, but note it is important to
replace each bolt in turn to ensure all the keel and apron keeps in place. As it
is, most of the calking came loose in the seam between the garboard and keel, but
this all went back with some red lead powder mixed with putty.
On the subject of red read putty, it is highly toxic and the
red lead purchased in a powder. It can be bought mail order from most traditional
chandlers. This has to be mixed with regular putty as the compound can no longer
be purchased already mixed. To prevent the powder from being blown around in the
wind when mixing, I put a little raw linseed oil in a mixing pot and then sprinkle
the powder on that. Then mixed to an emulsion with the putty.
The two bolts close to the water line and behind the samson
post were the most tricky. I had no room to swing the hammer and I did not fancy
removing the samson post. For the first one I drilled the head of the bolt from
the outside and drifted the bolt into the boat, for the other, I tried to slacken
the nut and it was lose. I was able to pull it inside the boat as it had wasted
completely through. I drilled off the head of the bolt on the outside and punched
the remains into he boat. Now for the stern.
Still raining and working under the cover, I began the most
dreaded of tasks. The cockpit in SWANTI is much smaller than a normal Dauntless
and by removing the cockpit sole and supports was able to gain a good access to
the hog and the six bolts which were going to be my focus of attention. A week earlier,
I had removed the nuts and made a well around the bolt head with Sykaflex. I then
filled this with WD 40. I had hoped this would ease the bolts, but not sure if it
helped at all.
Repeating the same process as with the bolts at the fore,
the first bolt started to move. I looked below and sure enough the bolt head was
protruding about 1". Celebrations al round and a cup of tea! But celebrations
were premature. I managed to drift the bolt down about six inches and it would go
no further. My drift started to bend, I grazed hands, cussed and swore, but it would
not move. Looking below, I could see the state of the bolt which was needle thin
and could easily be snapped off by hand, so no chance I could drift it back. Very
depressing û another cup of tea.
I tried the bolt next to it. Unbelievably it came out with
little effort and appeared almost untouched by the years. At least I now had the
first bolt replaced with new stainless steel studding, smothered with Sykaflex.
I managed to drift out and replace three bolts in all. Sounds simple when I write
this, but I have grazed fingers and aching arms to prove it wasn't..
Another two had wasted to nothing in the centre so that I
drifted the head of the bolt down, with the lower end stayed where it was. There
would be no option but to drill fresh holes and leave these studs where they are.
The holes have to be drilled to avoid the bit emerging from
the side of the keel and also avoiding the stern tube, hence alignment is essential.
Ed White wrote an article on this in Newsletter 4, but , remembering the first bolt
had been drifted down about 6", I put the drift in this hole, it indicated
the exact angle I would have to drill to ensure correct positioning. I had a 2'
long ¼" auger drill as a pilot and ensuring drilling parallel to the
drift ,.managed to avoid the stern tube and drilling through h side of the keel.
Another celebratory tea! I followed this with a 3/8" long masonry drill purchased
from the local 'Homebase'.
The last bolts were drilled in similar manner. The only problem
now was that there was probably gaps where the old bolts had rotted and water could
well seep up the hole where the stern tube fitted and out of the old bolt holes.
This is where the old Dauntless yard trick with a grease gun
came in. I mixed 75% putty with 25% grease and with red lead mixed with linseed
oil, beat the emulsion to a thick consistency. I filled an old grease gun with this
mixture and put the nozzle in the hole (the one I was using as a register for the
drill), which remained from my first abortive attempt to remove the bolt. I continued
to inject this mixture until it oozed from the seams all along he hog and at the
end by the stern tube. I then plugged the hole with a wood bung. I have to believe
that the gaps should all now be sealed. We will see when I am back in the water!
The keel bands were finally replaced using the remainder of
the red-lead emulsion as a seal.
A damp and wet job completed, with very sore hands, and another
cup of tea. Had I thought, I would have invested in some stout industrial glovesà.
It still hurts. But now the sun is out
