Storm Surge Sittingbourne

With Mum now back aboard & my Christmas employment coming to a close, you'd think there would be a period of relative calm in which to stop and reflect on the year gone by.

As regular readers of this blog will know, there's about as much calm in this place as swimsuit models in the Arctic, & so it was with a certain resignation that we saw news of storms heading our way.  Wind in the wrong direction is a big problem for us, but a more pressing issue was that of the extremely high tides they were going to produce.  A few weeks back we had a tide which saw us go quite high over the quay wall, with the marina owners saying it was the biggest they'd seen for six years.  These new tides were going to be the first of their kind in sixty years.  Goodbye maritime protocol, hello sod's law.

If we weren't careful we were going to be lifted above quay level and blown onto "dry" land, and while I'm happy to report that didn't happen it very nearly did.  The main event happened at night, so no opportunities for photos, but there was an equivalent tide the
following day, so this will give you an idea of what was going on.

First is a general shot of the quay, with us on our way up on the left.  Note the fenders on the sides at varying heights which had to be adjusted in part so the rubbing band (which is a metal band bolted to the hull to protect the wood against wear) wouldn't effectively hook itself onto the edge of the wall on the way down. 

On the night, the marina pontoons were being pushed forward by the surge, and tilting forward alarmingly.  Our rudder was resting against one of these, which I believe was a key factor in keeping us being blown out of the creek.  On the grass is the boat hook, which I was going to use to push us back should things get out of control, luckily it wasn't needed.  The stain on the quay shows how far the tide came in.

The layer of dead grass on the water surface as it inches its way towards the quay. 
Also we see a fender against the rubbing band.

Here we see Glad Tidings with the hull really starting to peek above the wall.  Under the white is the bottom of the boat, coloured red with anti-fouling (a protective paint layer).  The time I became most concerned during the night was when the red became more & more visible.  Another few feet & we would have been in trouble.  As the water met the grass it became difficult to get the fenders between the band & the wall, as the tide would simply pop them back out.  The marina staff were patrolling the quay & the other boat owners were monitoring things, & this was one of those times where the sense of community is strongest, with everyone looking out for each other. 

Aside from giving the boat a few hefty shoves to get fenders in & out (as mentioned before Glad Tidings weighs tons but can be moved like an obsese feather on the water) it was a fairly easy time of it physically, it was more a question of the stress of being at the mercy of the elements.  Would I rather live like this than have a mortgage?  I'm going to have to sound a bit nuts and say yes every time, but this was a stark reminder of how nature can take charge at the most bizarre times.
 

  

Working Parts

After moving on from broken chimneys, we are now experiencing broken limbs!

I'm sorry to report Mum has broken her leg, after falling from the boat.  No-one is quite sure how it happened, but from the looks of things she missed her footing stepping onto the pontoon and hit the water.  Unfortunately there is a pallet on the mud  below and she probably hit her leg on that, leading to a cracked femur.  After a successful operation to insert a metal rod she is resting in hospital, making a surprisingly speedy recovery, and beginning to walk unaided after only a few days.  There will be several weeks of recovery after which she should be able to walk normally, but Glad Tidings will be out of bounds for the time being.  Boat life over the past year or so has made her a lot stronger, so she will be able to return in some capacity soon. 

Work has to proceed, and there is still quite a list to get through.  Painting on the deck is half finished, staggered by the rain and now this calamity.  The sails, which have been hanging in the elements for so long, need to be taken down before they become very mildew'y and the masts are crying out for varnish.

After scraping off the "dead skin" of old varnish we can simply sand down the wood and apply a fresh coat, ideally in sunny weather, the options for which are beginning to run out.  The smaller masts & spars can be varnished indoors, but time is of the essence for these bigger beasts.  

A rag is jammed between two masts to stop them gouging each other in strong winds.

It has been a chaotic couple of years, and hopefully we are seeing the end of such madnesses.  At least if there is an award for "Calamity-Laden Blog 2013" we're a shoo-in!

Leaks & Tweets

Rain having very much stopped play for the last week or so, we have been hunkering down in the boat to wait out the bad weather.  But even minding your own business a lot can happen about the place - Mum accidentally decapitated our chimney after a gust of wind caught a ladder, one of our cats has mites clustering on her absurdly luxurious ears, and the long-standing problem of the tide quite literally coming in got a bit worse.

With an unusual amount of trickling and for want of a better word squirting coming from under one of the bunks, we took the top off and found something that made us rather uneasy.


A look down into the ancient-looking parts of the boat that are ever present beneath the relatively modern woodwork.

Below is a more bird's eye view - using my brilliant picture editing skills I have circled the issue, a rotten part of the wood that is
letting water seep in. 

The light brown gash at the right is where it's emanating from.

Here is a short video to show it in action:

Watch here

Fortunately this only appeared to be a small section but it is a source of confusion to us - the salt water should be preserving the wood, so the cause of the rot is anyone's guess at present.  This leak had to be held back as a matter of urgency, and there was a surprisingly simple solution for this.

In this unnecessarily moodily-lit shot, I have cut a section of foam rubber into a conveniently-sized cube.  We have a big supply that was intended for use as seat cushions, but this never happened, and it now takes a more practical role bunging up leaks.

All we have to do is push it in and give it a poke with an implement, taking care not to jab the wood itself.  Though wooden boats are much trickier to protect against water, as they are lots of planks tarred together rather than a self-contained hull, you can plug things up using anything from an old t-shirt (or in one emergency situation the new one off my back) to towels (evidence of which can be seen top left of shot).  I still envy the owners of metal barges and canal boats, who can put a shoe or something over a hole when it appears!

Here is a further image of the underfloor area.



A mighty section of metal ballast helps prop up the floorboards.  As mentioned,
much of our stone ballast is on deck, removed so we could investigate leaks.  Hopefully we
will be able to put it back there soon.  Also there are the frames forming the ribcage of
the boat, coated in creek mud.  Oh and my Mum's shoe, which she uses to clean the carpet
(don't ask).


In a previous posting I talked about tingles, sections of lead that can be nailed onto problem seams.  Here is one I exhumed, caked in muck.  Once attached, one of these can hold the water at bay for approximately a year.

On a more contemporary note, I am now on Twitter.  Actually I joined around 2 years ago but couldn't get my head around it - however, I am now on better terms with it, and will be Tweeting details of blog updates on there.  Do follow me if you feel inclined -

Twitter Link

Deck & Duck

The deck painting is now underway, and here is a picture of the inaugural splash. 

Mum opted for grey with a hint of blue for a pretty appearance, whereas I favoured a military grey that hides all the dirt.  I think her idea is better, though of course it's been covered in scuff marks within minutes.  It's nothing some sea water and a brush won't fix.  Although a fair amount of fresh water is applied to the deck - mainly for the purpose of scrubbing off bird plop, and at this time of year it's blackberry-infused bird plop - you are really supposed to wash everything with salt water as it's much better for the wood.  The fireglass covering should protect it, but as mentioned previously it's not infallible, and during really rainy periods you see the wetness trapped under the surface.

I am also posting our first video, which is of our hull.  Ostensibly it's in order to show you the amount of dilapidation, but if you're not into that sort of thing there is also a duck that frequents our part of the creek looking for morsels.  He has a colouring on his face that makes him look like he has crazy eyes, and when he strayed into view I took the opportunity to get some footage of him mooching about near the other boats.

Watch here...

We get quite a few ducks around us, and as with our cats we seem to have created a monster by the amount of feeding we do.  Mum gives them seeds and moist supermarket dreg brand bread twice a day. So do a few other people by the looks of it as some of them are becoming rather plump. 

I don't partake in the fowl feast, but it's gotten to the stage where if anyone appears on deck there is a chorus of quacking, as the ducks frantically demand their dinner.  It's interesting to sit there watching them pecking at each other to defend their territory, and the view of a dozen of them spatula'ing through the mud with their beaks with a tremendous squelching is a sight to behold. 

The ducklings get a lot of attention from the boat owners - sadly quite a few of them are lost to various forces of nature, but those that flourish grow within weeks.  I will write a post about the wildlife we have around us at some point, as it varies from seagulls (who always descend out of nowhere with a screech whenever any bread is thrown) to the occasional seal! 
 

Seams & Sawdust

Work clearing the deck continues - I've always been a clutter man more than a minimalist, but seeing lots of space where you thought there wasn't any can't help but put you in a positive frame of mind.
 

The stanchions are seeing a fresh coat of paint for the first time in at least two years.

After the recent bouts of rain the planks appeared to have expanded and the water level in the bilge became greatly reduced.  It was looking like we were going to be able to leave the pump to run unattended overnight.  However, the resurgent heat appears have put us back in the direction of square one, with things  becoming eerily quiet in the engine room as the pump is gradually submerged...

Here we see the top of the pump & accompanying float switch under the water, handily framed by the sun pouring in through the engine room hatch.  The oil swirls to the left should give you an idea of the depth.  The submerged pump is mains-operated, but above the swirls is one of our battery-powered pumps, connected by jump leads to a leisure battery out of shot. 

Last time I mentioned how we were going to use sawdust to solve a problem with the boat. 

Well, here's the bag, & this is what we're going to do with it.   Now I should be honest & say I'm not entirely sure how this is going to work, but the principle is fairly sound.  We will attach the bag to ropes and dangle it over the side, getting it into a position where it is roughly aligned with the problem seam near the bottom under the water.  The bag will then be split with a long poking device (I'm thinking a broom handle with a Stanley knife taped to the end), releasing the sawdust, which will then apparently rush into the seam and block up the gaps.  This traditional technique is intended as a temporary solution, but if it works will give us some much-needed respite. 

There have been attempts in the past to stop the water mounting up by "tingling", which is the nailing of small sections of lead onto the wood beneath the floor, but these have only ever prevented small leaks.  The main one that's causing all the trouble is hopefully the seam, though this has only ever been a theory on our part.

We were advised to employ "the sawdust trick" by someone with a lot of experience, and one of the things about seeking such advice is you will hear contradictory things from different people.  So a sure fire solution from one person will be met by tutting and rolled
eyes from the next.  Boat people are notoriously inconsistent in that sense - we have been recommended everything from squirting builders' foam into the seam to tacking plywood to the outside.  These all appear to be perfectly valid approaches, but it's the one approach we want, and hopefully a simple bag of sawdust will prove to be a big step forward.
 

 

On Deck

The first stage of our "big push" with the boat's renovation is the deck.  It has been left in the same condition for approximately a year and in a sense has remained unchanged since Dad's passing.  Things have literally frozen in time - a couple of toolkits have rusted under the elements and various lengths of wood are going green.  We are never short of wood here, as not only is Glad Tidings a wooden boat, it is festooned with chunks of it of all sizes.  These are used for everything from propping open hatches to propping up a wonky section of the floor below deck.

Here are a couple of views from the quayside:

Note the clear expanse of coach roof after many months of being buried under a mass of ladders, oars, sailcloth, bags of cat litter (we have two felines aboard) and various decidedly-orange implements and bits of machinery that used to be some sort of metal.  I intend
to post pictures of some of these on the blog sometime as I really have no idea what they are.

At the bottom of the picture, you will see stones and pebbles.  This is the ballast of Glad Tidings, taken from the Arbroath shoreline and intended for use under the floor to weight the craft so it doesn't wobble about the place.  It's outside because we needed it out the way to investigate where the leak (or leaks) might be. 

It comes in very handy as a rudimentary balancing kit, as from this shot you can see we are currently moored against a wall.  As we are floating over mud and don't have a flat bottom (unlike all those smug-looking Dutch barges that surround us!) when the tide goes out we are sometimes prone to "heeling over" the wrong way.  The aim is to settle against the wall, with a bit of leaning to the right, where our fenders cushion the descent. 

However, if there is a dreaded northerly breeze (even just a puff of air - a boat weighing 20 tons can be as light as feather to move when afloat) we can be blown away from the wall and this can get quite precarious.  If we're not careful we could go over the other way, which has been known, whereupon it's a case of clearing the shelves and preparing to spend 8 hours at a 90 degree angle.  The green box on the grass is full of ballast, and this is used to hold the line in place so we don't drift out.

You may just have observed the amount of clutter on deck - coal for the stove, a Black & Decker workmate circa 1976 that no longer folds down and a giant TV aerial that was donated to us and which would probably pull us over if we tried to install it.  This is all material that is subject to 'put and take', as we sort everything out and compile the lot into what to preserve and what to chuck.

The coach roof has a canvas top painted blue.  As soon as we removed the ephemera, we understood exactly why it was there.  The picture was taken on a beautiful sunny day - as the heavens opened we began to leak mightily.  Though the deck is fibreglassed to keep out rain, we regularly get drips in the most unexpected areas.  Bizarrely they can migrate, so you'll get a metric ton of water through one plank, only for it to be bone dry during the next shower.  Then you go to bed and find it's all gone in there.  The water can also get in through bolts in the deck, so not only do you get wet, but there's a delightfully brown and metallic quality to what comes in.

Here is a picture of Mum's sleeping berth at present, with enough takeaway cartons to fill a van.  It looks like the bedroom of a conspiracy theorist trying to block out satellite signals!

Below is the side deck, with the stanchions that are in sore need of painting. 

The red square to the right is the foot of one of a pair of boat "legs" my Dad made, that can be attached to either side enabling the vessel to stand up when the tide goes down.

In addition to the deck clearance, painting and varnishing of the masts, we are also going to buy a big bag of sawdust and a rather large knife.  This is going to form part of a highly delicate operation, the details of which are best left to a future instalment...

Welcome to this blog, which is based around 'Glad Tidings', the Victorian fishing boat we live on, which is moored near Sittingbourne in Kent.  Over the coming months I will give you an insight into what it is like dwelling aboard such a vessel, as well as talking about its history and our efforts to restore her so she can go on for another hundred or so years...

Dating back to 1897, she is a "Fifie" built in Arbroath, Scotland, and is on the National Historic Ships Register.  We have owned her for 12 years, and lived on her for 7, and the repairs and general preservation work involved have been varied to say the least!  This is a boat made out of wood that requires regular maintenance, be it stuffing hemp between its planks, replacing those planks, painting its hull or simply keeping the water out (there has been a lot of that lately, as the blog will reveal).

The majority of the work was done by my Dad, who sadly died a year and a half ago.  This left me (Steve, a comedian) and my Mum Wendy (an academic) to try and cope with the upkeep.  Dad passed away in the middle of a bad situation - the boat was taking on a lot of water, for reasons we are to this day trying to ascertain.  Our working theory is that a seam in the bottom of the boat - which is buried in the Kent mud and somewhat inaccessible - has lost its filling and a mighty leak has been created.  We insert hemp and a tar-like substance called "black pudding" between the planking, but without constant attention and an eagle eye this can give way.  Dad was keen to use traditional methods to ensure 'Glad Tidings' remained as close to as it was when it was launched in Arbroath.  On the whole, he did this successfully, though the deck had to be given a layer of fibreglass as it was too much work to keep the rain and elements away.

After his death the helpers became the gaffers.  Not only were we caring for Dad in his final days we were literally trying to stop the boat sinking, and ever since have been managing the scenario with very little cash.  As we became more familiar with Dad's world we came to understand that wooden boats tend to eat money rather than store it.  We have a variety of pumps that get the water out of the bilge (under the floor) as fast as it can come in and currently only need one pump for this purpose.  However, any passing craft seeing the various tubes protruding from the hull get the impression the boat is relieving itself into the creek...

Insert your own caption

Me and Mum have been living like this for nearly two years.  How has this happened?  It's a question we ask ourselves quite frequently.  The logistics of trying to look after the boat whilst living day-to-day lives have often overwhelmed us.  The location we are in is quite remote, so relying on the odd country bus means even a shopping trip can take up most of the day.  Depression has also played its part - there has been no let up, and sometimes it feels like we haven't had the proper time to grieve.  This is good in a way as we have always had something to occupy our minds, but the negatives are many and obvious. 

We also live by the tides, so for example later I will be switching the pump on just after the water comes in at midnight and will monitor it till around 4am.  It doesn't always require this sort of "night watch".  We have been lucky for much of this year as the mud silted up the hull, but the recent hot weather has made the wood shrink and more of the wet stuff is coming in.  People are frightened by the idea of boats taking on water, but every vessel takes on some which is then expelled, just not the way we do it!

After some time stuck in this self-imposed, slightly mad rut, we are getting our heads together and beginning to work on the deck and hull again, though of course there is a lot to do.  Our objective is to raise funds for the boat to be lifted out onto land by crane so we can get at the bottom and fill the problem seam and this is part of the reason I have started this blog, to draw attention to a key part of Scotland's maritime fishing heritage and make people aware that 'Glad Tidings' still exists.

Thank you for your company and the first update will follow soon!