We're back afloat at last - and can hardly believe how lucky we've been with the weather. Our launch day on Thursday was probably the warmest of the spring so far: an ideal day for all those endless journeys back and forth along the pontoon with carloads of gear.
Because we had to empty the boat completely before we laid up, to have her weighed for an endorsed IRC rating certificate for this year's planned offshore racing campaign, there was even more stuff to cart back than usual. But at least we've reclaimed the spare bedroom now!
The plan was to spend Saturday afternoon completing the fitting out and then go for a sail on Sunday. However, the weather on Sunday was appalling - how often do you hear 11s and 12s in the inshore waters forecast? OK, it was only 8s and 9s in Thames, but that wasn't quite the gentle shake-down we'd envisaged. So we stayed in the marina.
We spent the day cleaning below decks, and feeling smug that we weren't toiling in the boatyard in the bitterly cold north westerly wind - as a lot of people who'd taken a more last-minute approach to fitting out were having to.
Saturday afternoon in contrast, the last hoorah of the run of unseasonably warm weather which had enabled us to get the boat ready in relative comfort, had been spent on deck in sunshine, re-running the running rigging.
We always take as much “string” as possible off when laying up. First, it means it's not exposed to unnecessary winter weathering, and second, it gives an opportunity to wash it.
Opinions are divided on the wisdom of washing ropes, although there's no argument about the benefits of regular rinsing in fresh water to get the salt out. I like to put as much of it as possible in the washing machine, on a synthetics programme. It comes out nice and clean, and a bit of fabric softener makes it easier to handle.
When we sold our Sigma, after 16 years and 30,000 plus miles, she still had a lot of original “string” on board, which leads me to believe that far from causing excessive wear, regular washing actually prolongs its life.
But having washed it and kept it neatly coiled in the warm and dry during the worst of the weather, you are then faced with remembering how to put it all back - and which turning blocks belong where. Maybe it would be wise to make a photographic record before dismantling the kicker next year….
In view of the forecast, we didn't put the sails back on, as we'd originally intended. And we were glad of that on Sunday morning, as the promised storm arrived, and we were bouncing around in the swell as the tide rose ever higher. The additional windage of the mainsail and cover would have made for an even more uncomfortable first night aboard!
The combination of northerly winds and spring tides is dreaded on the East Coast - it's what caused the catastrophic 1953 floods. On Sunday there was about a metre above prediction. And with the river full of white horses, spray was flying over the harbour wall - but the water level didn't quite reach the top before the ebb started.
Inside the harbour, the pontoons were getting closer than usual to the top of the pilings. There's a danger that rising sea levels will result in sore heads if the unwary forget to duck!
Anyway, it turned out to be just as well that sailing was already ruled out, when we discovered that despite all our efforts, and several car loads, one vital box had been left behind. When we came to fill the tanks with water, the deck plate key was nowhere to be found.
Where had it last been seen? “It's with the winch handles,” declared the skipper, confidently. And where were the winch handles? “Still in the garage!” he admitted.
Fingers crossed, everything is back on board now, and after two months of hard slog, ashore and afloat, the boat really is ready to go. Other commitments mean that we won't be sailing far over the next couple of weekends, but then it's Easter, and the first proper cruise of the season - weather permitting, of course.
