Sailing soon

All those house projects taking up our days has inevitably meant that our other interests, touring the country in Martin and sailing, have been on hold. But then it is winter and although we are crazy enough to contemplate campervan adventures at this time of year, when it comes to sailing, we do prefer to be laid up ashore. Since moving house we no longer have an accessible garden where she can be stored on her trailer so Eun na Mara has spent the winter months tucked into a corner of the marina car park, a few streets away from our home.

She is close by, safe and secure, and needs little attention other than a periodic check up. In fact she is totally boxed in by other much larger vessels. But there is a deadline coming soon, a day when all these boats will be lifted back into the water, the timetable for this being determined by the marina and thus being beyond our control.

So this explains why, contrary to my better judgment, I find myself lying on my back beneath the hull on a freezing cold day getting spattered with blue antifouling paint from the roller I am swishing about with one hand. No matter how carefully this job is carried out it is inevitable that some paint ends up on the painter and at the end of the day I just know I'll be discovering the impressive adhesive properties of the expensive product I am applying. Its purpose is to inhibit the growth of marine organisms (a posh phrase for barnacles) and in order to do this it is described as 'self polishing', another way of saying it wears off. Which explains why all boat owners have to go through this procedure every year and why marine paint manufacturers make so much money from us.

Phew! It feels so good to have got all that off my chest.

Our rather elderly sailing vessel is a tough little beauty but the hull is showing its age, rather weathered, a faded version of its original.

So out comes the T-Cut and after several hours of polishing we have a new boat, a darker green... until it fades once again in the sun. Next jobs will be to raise the mast, to restore all the cushions and other things stowed ashore then stock up the boat with some victuals. (For the benefit of landlubbers this is the sailor's word for food.) Launch day is not far away now.

When it comes to getting our boat from shore to sea we have a choice, one that owners of larger boats do not have. They must have the services of a crane, a crane driver and a couple of helpers to assist with positioning the slings as well as a close enough stretch of deep water. The availability of all these things ties them to a day, an hour, and even then to their place in the launch day queue. But we have a trailer on which our boat rests quite happily all winter and then, tied to the rear of our van, both boat and trailer will follow wherever we decide to go. To move from land to sea we need just one more thing, a gently sloping ramp, the lower end of which is beneath the water we wish to sail in - a slipway. Such things exist in many different places and whilst they may not all be suitable - too steep, too shallow, weed covered, too narrow, too short - when we are out and about we are always on the lookout for one that might one day serve us. It is, however, more than a little stressful launching this way; there is so much that can go wrong and the internet is full of videos of boat launch fails which highlight this. The objective is to get the boat into the water by sliding it smoothly off the back of the trailer which is then pulled back up the ramp and driven away. But there's a lot to think about. For instance, at the rear of the trailer there is a lighting board which is connected by an electrical wire to the vehicle. Should this enter the water, especially salt water, the lights are guaranteed never to work again. The board and its long electrical cable must be removed completely before starting to reverse down the slip. Similarly any straps which secure the boat whilst it is on the trailer must be removed and, of course, the tide must be right, with enough depth to float the boat once it leaves the trailer. The final point to be aware of is that once the boat slides off its trailer it will continue to drift away - boats don't have brakes - and will be at the mercy of the wind and current so it must be secured to something nearby or else someone must be on board ready to start the engine so as to manoeuvre the boat to safety. Of course one person must be left ashore to drive the vehicle with its empty trailer to a safe parking place (always remembering that the lighting board must be reattached before going back on a road). Of course this is merely a summary of the boat launch process but in practice every launch is something of a gamble with a long list of variables.

As it happens our home port has an excellent slipway; wide, clean, and plenty long enough for an easy launch. It is, however, used every hour by the car ferry which runs across the loch so launching from here would be a race against time, an added complication to the already stressful task.

So there we have it. For these, and a host of other reasons, we have decided to have our boat craned in this year.

And we are nearly ready.

The mast is now up. Unlike many larger sailing boats, our mast spends the winter lying horizontally above the deck supporting a full length cover. Raising this large piece of wood to a vertical position is something the boat's designers took into account so that two people, acting in unison, can do it quickly and without any real risk involved. All the halliards and sheets (sailing boats don't have ropes) have to be laid out in their right positions so nothing catches as the mast rises then with one person lifting from the rear and another pulling on the forestay halliard the mast rises, pivoting on a securing bolt in the tabernacle. (I make no apologies for the technical language used here. If you find this difficult to understand then feel free to use Google.) The other boat owners in the yard seemed quite impressed that we had done the whole job in around thirty minutes when on their boats they would need a crane and half a day of reconnecting and tensioning things to achieve the same. We were lucky with the weather too, one of the rare dry days set amongst a series of wet ones.

In the final days before launch the marina car park is a hive of activity with boat owners clad in protective clothing, lying flat on their backs, paint rollers in hand. There is much banter and joshing about each others boats and judgements being passed on whose hull has been polished to the highest shine. Ours has no hope of matching up to the high standards set by some owners, so we don't bother trying.

Then comes the day. The forecasters didn't quite get it right - it was cold and wet - but when our turn came things went smoothly with no hiccoughs.

Of course, all the rules state that 'man-riding', flying through the air in company with your boat, is not permitted for safely reasons but come the day, every boat lift had at least one on board, standing ready to start the engine once the boat is back in her natural element.

So there she is, afloat again and looking as pretty as ever in her usual berth. A bit of warmth now is all that's needed to tempt us to go out sailing.