This is taken from my blog at http://www.sailblogs.com/member/hillbillies/231804
It is however all mine and mine alone. I share simply because it is worth sharing and will be easier to read than the blog. Thankyou for your indulgence.
Let's begin at the beginning, which was about nine months ago. That's when we bought Mystic. A beautiful boat that needs a lot of TLC. Both of us being sick, financial problems and a myriad of other issues stopped the plan right there and poor Mystic was left to wallow, waiting for us to go see her and give her a new life.
Well. that day arrived on Friday 30th June 2012.
Mcinley, our neighbour, volunteered to come with me on the loooong drive down and he was to pick me up once I reached the marina in the boat. The other bit of the plan was that the former owner was to come with me to ensure I knew where everything was and how to treat this special lady.
We arrived around 3pm, both exhausted, thirsty and ready for a rest. No such luck. The old owner wanted to be on the way now and could only take me as far as the cut into the river. "We can leave tomorrow ya know, we aren't really sorted for today" I suggested. "Noooo, I got to be somewhere at 5'30 and we're moving out tomorrow" he replied.
Sooooooo, Simon being Simon, I climbed aboard after giving Mac some directions and a couple of cigs. This was a 2 hour trip right? so no big deal.
Untied and off we set. The engine purred and we cruised sweetly down to the cut. "Ok let's get these sails up", and in a few minutes we were racing along under sail. The Centaur was never designed to be a race boat and isn't famous for it's speed, but with no big diesel to slow it down and a bowsprit added with a large genoa she set off on a broad reach like a racehorse.
After a few, we hove to and Rob got into his kayak. "You'll be fine now and I gotta go to my meeting" he said. "Erm, I haven't been on a boat in over ten year mate. I could really use you to see me down the river". With a cheery wave he left.
How hard can it be right? It's only a boat on a beautiful sunny day with a gentle breeze. Ten minutes in that breeze was picking up and fifteen minutes in there was a huge THUD !!!! as I realised I couldn't move the tiller. With no steering that huge Genny was dragging the boat wherever it wanted to go and nowhere I wanted to go.
I looked over the transom to see what the bang had been. The engine bracket had snapped in half and was pretty much hanging by one bolt and the rope winch to the transom. I was in a bit of a poo situation. But it was sunny.
I looked for some suitable rope and lashed the engine on tighter but the prop was almost under the boat hitting the rudder. I fired it up. The faster it ran the deeper it would bite down under the boat. Bit of a dilemma. By this time I'd dropped all sail and was just drifting around. I eventually got some more rope around the engine and if I kept the revs low I could gently move the tiller and steer.
So, there I were, doing about 2 knots toward the marina some miles down the river.
Time ticked along. I worked my way to the huge bridge I was using as about my middle of trip point. I gazed at it longingly and the bleeding thing never got any closer. Sloooowly I inched my way under it. "Thank fuck for that" I yelled, looking round and grinning like a prat at nobody at all. It was a milestone at least so I rewarded myself by rolling a cig. Rolling a cig or going down to look at the chart on my laptop took long enough for the boat to wander off in a totally different direction so I would slow the revs to realign and then rev back up to get going again.
Part deux,
I had got under the bridge. Boats buzz round this all day without a thought, but for me it was one hell of a milestone. I plodded along, tugging on my well earned ciggy and then I spotted the fins. Ok I know there aren't sharks in this river so it wasn't a panic. Just totally elation at seeing a pod of dolphins. Too excited about the view and the experience I jumped down into the cabin for the camera. The little bleeders decided they were camera shy and disappeared. I shot a couple of minutes of film though and went through the ritual of slowing the engine, lining up my bow back on course and then easing up the revs to the point the prop wasn't eating through the boat.
Ok, so wind usually increases for a reason. The odd gusty blow now and then is not the same as a steadily rising wind. This will all become apparent later and dropping the sails had been wiser than I knew.
It was getting dark. Come 8 'O' clock poor Mac had been sat waiting four or five hours now and we had no way to contact each other. I plodded on. This of course was going to be an all in daylight sail so as night began to fall I realised I had no navigation lights. Actually I had no power at all and nowhere to recharge the laptop which had already given me the ten minute warning of imminent battery death. "Shit !!" I thought to myself. I was reckoning on another couple of hours at this speed and took a long look at the chart on the laptop to try and memorise the lights and the headland I needed. If you've ever been on a boat looking at land at night you will understand that all those well placed markers just disappear into the shore lights and are as much use as tits on a fish. To add to it, the locals were celebrating some sort of baseball win and were firing off fireworks all over the place. Basically I could see fuck all of any use but did enjoy the rockets. They spent some money on em that's for sure.( Note to the people of Berwind: two Roman candles and some detonators you stole from the mining company do not count as a firework display). So on I plodded. I could make out the land on both sides, I located the light on a tower and I was happy enough.
Part three later. I need a long bath and tylonol.