Chainplates...

I suppose in hind sight, we were really lucky. Chainplates only really fail when under high load and that high load generally occurs with a large wind, sea and typically in the dead of night in the middle of the ocean (Sod's Law right?).

We could have been dismasted. THAT would have been a story and a half. Not the good kind either!

For the uninitiated, chainplates are the metal fastenings that link the hull to the rigging and come out of the deck. People probably know of them as “that thingy in the middle of the deck that I stubbed my toe on again”.

Needless to say, both Bill (Sally's father) and my father had banged on about bloody chainplates. “Check the chainplates” I had heard a number of times. Whats to check. They are in difficult to reach places surrounded in swathes of panelling requiring a degree in mechanical engineering and to be a part time contortionist at the Boswell Wilkie Flying Circus.

I had a full survey done by a very thorough surveyor. All the chainplates that were visible and accessible looked fine. No signs of rust, discolouration, anything! Using the rule of “the others look fine so I am sure they are too”, I did not give it a second thought.

Post experiencing the problem, a little research on the internet revealed that a number of other T37 owners have changed out their chainplates. Actually the very same plates that I severed. In all fairness, they were probably originals and at 33 years old had seen a fair amount of use over the years.

When we got back to Tyrell Bay, I hauled out the broken chainplate and sent it off to the Stainless Steel Fabricator guy. This charming little Frenchman who really does know his stuff.

There was me thinking that I could just get a new one made and sail away a few days later.

Oh no, not with my father scepticism. “If one of them is shot, they might all be...” says he. “Pull them all and check them”.

Sure, easy for you to say 2000 miles away in a first world country. Here I sit in a remote anchorage (which is not even near the Capital city) with a limited tool chest and he wants me to pull my boat apart to check all the plates.

As father is generally fairly cautious (and correct...but don’t tell him that), I did as instructed. The last thing you want is to be asleep one night in a real blow in the middle of an ocean crossing thinking to yourself...”If only I had checked those other chainplates when I had the chance, as I really don’t know what condition they are in...”

Sally and I spent the best part of a day deconstructing our little ship in order to slack off the rig, unscrew most of the cabinetry, unbolt all the plates and haul them out.

Not as hard a job as one might think though! I am sure it can be worse on some vessels.

We took all the plates to the Stainless Steel Frog to get checked out. He soaked them in phosphoric acid and cleaned them all up. Carefully with his magnifying glass inspected each plate and gave it the thumbs up or down. 

Both the main plates (the ones that hold the main stays that link the top of the mast to the deck) were fine. The 2 stays from the lower shroud (spreader) that lead forward of the mast were both fine too. We already knew that the starboard chainplate for the lower shroud that lead aft was kaput, we now got the verdict on the port one. It had a few hairline cracks in it. It too would need to be replaced. Happy to do it as I already had a boat with 6 holes in the deck. Might as well do the work now.

After enquiring about the boat and its age, construction etc the Frenchman responded in heavy froggie accent...“Old American stainless is sheet, European is much better. Modern stainless is much better than 30 years ago”

Another interesting thing is that when Tartans are rigged, they seem to just whack a hole in the deck and slide in a chainplate against a bulkhead. Little to no though about water penetration into the balsa core. Upon removing the plates, I could see the balsa core. I was expecting a ring of epoxy to protect it. The previous owner had been fastidious and kept good seals on all the chainplates and as such the wood was still in good condition. 

Instead of just “whacking them back in”, I mixed up some epoxy and coated all the wood core and the fibreglass sandwich with a thick application to act as a barrier to prevent moisture from wicking.

Now the old (good) chainplates are back in epoxy hardened holes with heaps of 5200 sealant.

Fingers crossed, we should not be leaking through the chainplates any time soon.

A wet, windy and wild passage

Clearing out from Grenada (in Hillsborough, Carriacou) our plan was to head to Union Island, a short trip across with the whole day to do it.

As we left the relative comfort of the anchorage and headed west of Jack a Dan (a large rock jutting out of the water, home to pelicans), we immediately caught the wind. Unlike Grenada, Carriacou was very windy on the leeward side that morning. We had already put in 2 reefs prior to leaving and with the wind gusting 30 knots we brought in the jib as well. A difficult sail, we continued to beat up the coast until we cleared the north headland. As we started our crossing to Union Island, not only did we have the gusts to contend with but also the swells. By this point I am starting to feel ill so gladly helmed to keep focused as we pummelled the waves. As Dylan went down below to check that nothing was flying around in the saloon, another gust took us and we broached. Having never broached before I was terrified. Clutching onto the wheel I squealed as the boat heels right over and the steering becomes too tough to fight against, wind loud in my ears, I see Dylan's startled face from below. Ever the protector, Dylan starts to sing a silly song, diverting the attention away from the situation. Stubborn mule that I am, although petrified I continued to fight the wheel until after what seems like an age, our rudder pops back in the water and we continue sailing as if nothing happened. In hindsight the whole scenario lasted a couple of seconds but it was enough for me to hand the helm over to Dylan and disappear below to study the charts instead!! During that ordeal the boat made a 'twang', when Dylan went on deck to investigate further he found that the starboard aft stay had completely sheared from the deck and was swinging in the wind. A bungee cord and several twines later we secure it to the other stay and start to discuss our next steps.

Shaken from the experience I proposed we head for the nearest anchorage and survey the damage, wanting to quickly get out of the wind and swell. We were nearest to Union Island but to get into the anchorage would have involved numerous tacks and we didn't fancy worsening the situation! Managing to demast 3 weeks into our adventure was not a story I wanted to tell our grandkids in years to come. Why not use the engine? We are hardly like the Pardys but with the large swell running and 30 knot wind right on the nose we were doing almost 2000 revs, reaching almost 180 degrees and only going 1.8 knots! Petit St Vincent although a little further away could be reached on a port tack, was an easy anchorage to access and required little engine use so that was a winner! Of course we hadn't been there before so we were just trusting my navigational skills and our newly acquired seamanship. Luckily the trust we put in ourselves paid off and we sailed a further 4 nm with no problems and dropped anchor with plenty of daylight left (feeling quite chuffed with ourselves for overcoming our first dilemma at sea!).

After a stiff rum and coke (always fruit juice for me as Grenadians don't seem to stock diet anything!) we investigated the severed chain plate and found it was heavily corroded and the last load it had endured when we broached just tipped it over the edge shearing the plate. We plugged up the hole to make it water tight and started to relax, surveying our surroundings.

Petit St Vincent (PSV) is the most beautiful place I have been to, to date. It is exactly what you think of when you picture the Caribbean. A very small private island, it is surrounded by bright blue waters and white coral sand with no inhabitants other than the hotel guests and when we arrived...no charterers!! The island is a resort for the rich and famous where one goes for utter seclusion, staying in stone cottages with a flagpole that needs to be raised if you wish to have room service. With privacy in mind, as yachties we are unable to explore the island but we are free to walk on the beach as long as we are discreet with hotel guests. On one walk we found a hoard of black coral that had been washed ashore which we quickly put in our bags, keen to make the most of this find as normally you need to dive between 300 and 3000 ft to get it!

Looking over the side of Orion we could see 6 metres down to a whole family of conch. Keen to capture our own conch, prepare and cook it we went on our first snorkel which in itself was a daunting experience. According to our Garmin, the current was running at 1.5 knots which made jumping in the water a little scary, unsure whether we would be swept out to sea! Thankfully we could swim against it and started to dive seeing puffer fish, lion fish, arrow crab and a huge starfish. Finding the biggest conch in the area for our dinner we brought him onboard to start the dinner preparation. Dylan was appointed chief preparer whilst I volunteered to be the photographer. We started by knocking a hole in the shell between the 2^nd and 3^rd ridge and to loosen the claw, this allowed us to pull him out of his shell. Next step was to remove his stomach, eyes, snout and skin. Finding a conch basher in the galley, Dylan then began pounding the meat until translucent. We wanted to be able to taste the flavour so we just dipped the prepared conch in breadcrumbs and fried it. Although a lot of effort to catch and prepare the conch, he tasted lovely – like a non rubbery version of calamari. Shall definitely be helping ourselves to more of those off the ocean floor!

After a weekend near this paradise island, we figured it was time to face the music and get our rigging fixed. The wind had been gusting up to 36 knots but on Sunday they were a casual 25 so we made a dash for it. The islands further up the chain would become more remote with very little technical yacht services so we made the decision to backtrack and sail back to Carriacou. Not what we really wanted to do as our plan was to work our way North but as we are quickly realising, all plans need to remain fluid!

A couple of hours of motoring but this time with the swells, we surfed our way into Hillsborough, Carriacou. Unfortunately the swells only got worst and we spent the night feeling like we were on a ride in Alton Towers!! 8am comes and we make our way back to customs and immigration that we had only left some 4 days earlier. A little perplexed to see us back so soon and having no country stamps in our passport to account for the last 4 days (PSV is part of St Vincent so we never cleared in) we turned on the charm and got welcomed back into Grenada.

A further 2 hours of motoring and we arrived back in Tyrell Bay. Having read Doyle's cruising guide he states that there is a great French guy here that specialises in stainless steel fabrication, now all we need to do is hunt down his trimaraft workshop!