Wardley Marine Yacht Club sailors Malcolm and Simon collect the cup for the first sail over to Piel this year!
We did not think the Ship Inn would be open, and it wasn’t. As it happened, the new King of Piel Arran and islanders Don & Sharron had been doing a spot of painting. All evidence of labour was just and so tidied up when I arrived, but we all found time for a chinwag and a beer or two. It was a very nice but short stay, and once back on the boat, Jamila’s stove was stoked with charcoal, and the tilly and brass oil lamps were lit for the night. We spent the evening on board, with temperatures just above freezing outside but thanks to old-fashioned technology, inside the cabin it remained cosy and dry. It went dark around four thirty in the afternoon, as it was, after all, February, and the returning tide started lapping around the hull at around eight O’clock. Soon Jamila was drifting out towards the deserted buoys in the dark, and with a little prod from the engine, the crew went forward and took one. Safely tied up, we enjoyed a hash of tinned beef and baked beans, elevated from dullness with lots of finely chopped onion, sultanas, and Lee & Perins. A good bottle of Australian wine was found in the bilges to help all this goodness down the hatches. And it did not stop there, later in the evening, a bottle of whisky was produced and was enjoyed whilst looking up at a magnificent star-lit sky. Very soon the conversation turned to putting the world to rights, as so often it does on nights like this. As the evening unfolded, the uneasy excitement of earlier in the day gently transformed into a blissful calm. Eventually, an overwhelming feeling of tiredness, and the thought of an early start, got the better of us. We topped up the stove with fuel, blew out the lamps, and snugged up into our awaiting sleeping bags. With no time lost, Jamila’s two Lancashire lads fell into a sound sleep. But nothing lasts forever. After three hours or so, this was interrupted by an errant swell coming in with the high tide over Mort Bank, bumping the boat and jiggling a loose anchor up forward. The crew sat it out lying in their cots, and soon enough, the tide started its six-hour-long ebb, and all went quiet once again.
All too soon, it was four-thirty on Monday morning with the alarm ringing. We pulled ourselves into action with just a cup of tea and yoghurt, and departed thirty minutes later into a sea illuminated by a moonlit sky. Sunrise came around at about seven-thirty; see the photo above. Bacon, baked beans and crusty thick brown bread and butter were eaten on the move whilst crossing Mort Bank. All progress was made under engine as there was little wind, and handling the cold ropes and sails would have been hard on the hands. Feeling a bit soft and vulnerable vis-a-vis the elements at this time of the year, we maintained the stove and tilly lamp stoked with fuel, which served well on the voyage back, where crew and skipper could take turns in the cabin keeping warming.
Tilly Lamp
We duly arrived at Knott End-on-Sea and picked up a buoy near the golf course at 8:30 am. High tide was predicted at 11.30, thus a two-hour wait imposed by mother nature before going up the river. All went nicely whilst navigating the last of the flood tide. After entering Wardley’screek, the skipper positioned Jamila perfectly by the jetty and was duly complemented by the crew. In fact, it was the mud that should take the glory, for it was the mud that stopped the boat perfectly on station, so that the ropes could be tied easily and at our leisure. As soon as the docking chores were completed, the crew took off rather too quickly, but a little later, the skipper was pleasantly surprised by a deliciously served luncheon of clubhouse-cooked cheese-on-toast. Capital stuff!
In conclusion, we both had a jolly good time sailing to Piel Island and back, stayed warm and dry, met up with some pals, fed well, drank some wine and ale, and had no mishaps along the way. Job done I’d say!
I used to be one of the first sailors up in the morning. At the crack of dawn, I would have been there exchanging banter with fellow sailors across the anchorage in Piel harbour, shivering, clutching a cup of steaming hot tea as the sun climbed over the local hills.
Recently, things have changed. Now I’m the last club member to awake. And when I do, it is with a feeling of extreme cosiness leading to yet another ten minutes in the bunk. Often, dreams are the most colourful and memorable at that time of the morning when all is warm and well.
What has happened, you might ask? Well, the answer is a recently fitted charcoal stove running silently through the night, keeping the boat warm and dry.
In fact, it is at its best on those miserable rainy mornings when cold, damp condensation is the norm. With a stove burning low in your hull, it is like having central heating in your boat.
Here’s the story in photographs –
Proud owner of a new BENGCO. Thanks, Darren G., for your invaluable help in sourcing it.This is where the charcoal goes. There’s not really much room. The original seal has broken. However, aluminium foil serves well as a substitute.How to light: Remove all ash from the previous burn (important). Fill with charcoal. Take off the bottom unit. Physically remove the wick. Soak it in methylated spirit (keeping mine in a marmite pot works well). Slot back in. Open vent. Light. Refit the bottom unit. Wait till you see a strong orange glow. Close the vent to get your desired heat setting.My not-so-professional design work. It must be fitted as low as possible so that you are always sucking in the coldest and dampest air, which in turn leads to a long flue pipe that is better for warming the boat.It is still at the back of an envelope stage. The flash ‘H’ cap is still to be born.Wardley’s sailor, Billy Whiz, lends a helping hand.Where to put it? Blend it in with the window. I can increase the window length to cover the hole if required.Ordered stainless steel from the internet. Toying with new material in garage.
The stove didn’t come with a pipe or a through deck flange. I have to fabricate it myself. Here, I’m offering up the parts. You must get the angle right! The new flange is now welded up. I must decide how long the pipe should protrude and what is safe and aesthetically pleasing.
What is the right length? Here, I decided to defer welding the pipe until after installation and resolve to be careful not to scorch the deck!The day arrived to fit into the boat. Cutting and chopping into the original fixtures and fittings hurts! But I want a boat that works for me and, as such, cannot be obsessed with the possible resale value.Finally fitted, but not yet welded fully.View outside. It is not yet welded fully, and there is no rain cap yet.View from inside. Now, the pipe is welded to the flange, trimmed off, and bolted into the deck. The stove is ready to try out now.It’s going now. It’s hard to see it visually working since it is so well contained in its stainless steel box. But believe me, there is some heat coming out of it! You must be careful going to the heads, but there is quite enough room.Here, the Bengo stove is keeping a brew warm, and works a treat! A full load of charcoal and set at max is required to dry out a really wet boat. The stove gets hot and glows in the dark, burning for about three hours. Afterwards, top it up and dial down the heat to a minimum, and it will run through the night, keeping the boat dry and keeping the chill out of the air.View from the jetty. Eight bolts. Plenty of sealant. The flange works well; little heat gets to the fibreglass, even at full heat.The design of the Bengco is such that it can be safely used out-at-sea within reason. Hot ashes can’t fall out as all are contained in a precision-made stainless steel box.
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