T
his winter has been long and cold and
I’ve been grateful that my little boat
has spent it tucked away from the
often turbulent waters of Torquay
Harbour, safely blocked up at Dartside
Quay with heaters gently warming
its nether regions (a tube heater in the engineroom
and a thermostatically controlled oil-filled radiator
in the cabin). A dehumidifier has been keeping things
dry too, niftily draining into the galley sink to save
having to empty it regularly. Actually, what felt
like most of the boat was even warmer and dryer,
residing in my spare room, bed piled almost to the
ceiling with cabin and cockpit cushions, the floor
artfully decorated with warps, canopies, bedding,
navigation gear and anything else we could fit into
my mate Adrian’s immaculate Ford Focus estate
(in fact, it took two runs). I don’t know whether you
were ever made to play that game at school where
you had to cross the gym without ever touching thefloor – hopping and bounding across carefully
positioned apparatus? Well, crossing my spare
room has been a little like that. All that remained
for me to do was sit at home shelling out money at
regular intervals to Andy Sheppard (my GRP guy)
and Dartside Quay like a blackjack dealer flicking
out cards across the table.
It’s actually slightly nerve wracking putting the
boat back into commission. After two more trips
with Adrian’s Focus to return the contents of my
spare room back to the boat, the big day arrived and
another friend Sean came along to lend a hand. As
the crane plucked it from its winter nest and spirited
it toward the river, irrational thoughts tumbled
through my head. Would it float? (Why wouldn’t it
float?) Would it start? (A more reasonable one this,
after nearly five months ashore.) I’d run the battery
charger for an hour but it’s a big engine, a cold day
and it’s been dormant for months. Dartside’s crew
lowered it carefully into the water and pulled it backagainst the pontoon.
I hopped on board,
wrenching open the
engine bay – bone dry.
Phew! Key in the ignition- moment of truth. The
starter churned, eagerly
to begin with and then
slower. Suddenly the
engine caught and roared
into life. Double phew!
I let it warm through for
a few minutes before
we cast off and headed
into the breezy slate-
grey day, pointing the
nose downstream
toward open water.
It’s about half an
hour from Galmpton, the
location of Dartside Quay,
to the river entrance and
then another five minutes to reach the edge of the
harbour speed limit (the days of planing away from
the castle at 30 knots are long gone – officially at
least). A final check of the engine bay for erroneous
noises or fluids and it was time to gently ease on the
power. The wind was picking up short sharp waves,
but fortunately they were heading up the coast to
Torquay just like us. The tachometer needle wound
slowly but positively round the dial, the SOG on
my new Axiom 9 chartplotter flicking steadily
upward. At 15 knots, we were planing and at 20
knots (just 2,500rpm) we were cruising, skipping
happily across the turbulent surface sending sheets
of white spray out low and wide either side of the
boat. Sean and I looked at each other and grinned.
The world made sense again.
Video recommendation: Search ‘Sunseeker
Portofino 31 by drone’ for some beautiful
shots of a gorgeous classic in full flightAs the crane plucked my boat from
its winter nest and spirited it toward the
river, irrational thoughts tumbled through
my head. Would it start? Would it fl oat?COLUMNSNICK BURNHAM: Although tucked up safe away from the water, it’s still been a long, frosty
hibernation for Smuggler’s Blues 2. Would she wake from her slumber without a hitch?THE BORN AGAIN
BOAT OWNER
Smuggler’s Blues 2
heads up the coast
ready for another
summer afl oat