Boat Plans Aluminium Australia | Scout shakes off wintertime on Squam Lake

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Boat Plans Aluminium Australia


Note new floorboards! Port Orford Cedar.  All class.  Two large stowage compartments, room for flotation, and foot stretcher when rowing.  More on that later.






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Boat Plans Pdf | Road Trip The butterflies of Morelia

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Boat Plans Pdf


After three days in the fascinating city of Guanajuato it was time to reluctantly say goodbye and get back on the road. Our first stop was San Miguel de Allende. This town is renowned for its arts and culture, and is home to two prestigious schools, the Instituto Allende and the Instituto de Bellas Artes. These schools, founded in the 1940s by artists and writers, attracted American WWII veterans who could attend classes on the GI Bill. Many of them stayed in town or later retired there, and soon the town had a large and vibrant American community. But San Miguel also has a rich history dating back to the days when Mexico was fighting for independence from Spain and it is known as the first city to throw off Spanish rule.

Unfortunately we had time only for a quick tour of downtown and an hour or so for lunch. We wandered around the central plaza and admired the architecture of the buildings and the diversity of the tourists that crowded the area. The church is one of the most beautiful weve encountered and I couldnt help being impressed by it.




It is not difficult to see how this architecture could inspire 18th century Mexican peasants. 
These church bells are incredibly loud and can be heard for miles around. Notice the bell on the left, its actually tolling while this fellow calmly surveys the crowd below.  He reminded me of Quasimodo from Victor Hugos "Hunchback of Notre Dame".
Street musicians. This bongo player didnt miss a beat while acknowledging a passerby. 
After a couple of hours in San Miguel it was time to continue on to Morelia. Rolling down the highway we passed through rich farmland and crossed into the state of Michoacan, home of the notorious Knights Templar drug cartel. Here the conflicts between the cartels, the locals and the government are real, and we saw more than a few heavily armed soldiers and police manning checkpoints and driving around in big trucks. I know very little about this complicated situation but one aspect of it is that in some towns in the region, local citizens have taken up arms against the "Templars" that have terrorized and extorted money from them. Anyway we were careful about where we were at all times and were tucked into our hotel well before dark whenever possible.

We really didnt do much in Morelia. We had come to see the Monarch butterflies, but it turns out that they dont actually hang out in Morelia, but in the mountains about 80 tortuous miles east of the city. So we got up early and drove out through mountains and high valleys toward the town of Angangueo. From there it was another ten or fifteen miles up a steep mountain road that ended at a small settlement that marked the entrance to the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary, which was at roughly 10,000 feet elevation. We parked in a deserted parking lot and hiked up to the entrance of the sanctuary. The entry fee was about 35 pesos per person, which included a guide. As we hiked up the trail, which consisted of a nice footpath and in some areas staircases, he told us about the butterflies and their migrations.

The countryside is a beautiful forest of spruce and pine and it was a nice walk up to an elevation of about 11,000 feet. The guide told us that the path to the top included 700 stairs. We knew we had arrived late in the season so we expected to see a few butterflies and then head back down the road. Sure enough on the way up we encountered a few and thought they were beautiful. We told the guide they were nice and said he didnt have to walk all the way to the top with us. But he encouraged us to go on. I was a little concerned for our companions, Ed and Connie, they are both a bit older and not accustomed to hiking. But they were game and we continued on up to a small pass where we encountered some horsemen who offered their horses to us, which we declined.

The country around Angangueo is beautiful and rugged.
First butterfly


As we headed down the trail on the other side of the pass, the forest canopy closed in and the guide dropped his voice to a whisper. We walked on in silence, deeper into the forest. Then we arrived in the heart of the sanctuary and found ourselves surrounded by millions of Monarchs. They flew all around us, landing on us, posing on flowers and clustering by the thousands on branches above us. It was at once magical and awe inspiring to stand in silence and hear the sound of thousands of butterfly wings. We spent an hour or so with them, then it was time to go.


Butterflies in flight
Eds ride down the mountain

We hiked back up the trail to the pass where the horsemen had patiently waited. Ed and Connie decided theyd had enough walking and accepted the offer of a couple of horses while Lisa and I accompanied the guide back down the trail. Soon we were back in the car and headed for our hotel in Morelia, we arrived in the early evening tired but still enchanted by the butterflies. It was a perfectly beautiful experience. The next day we got an early start toward the troubled city of Patzcuaro, where local vigilantes had recently taken their town back from the Templars.



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Boat Plans Bolger | Back in the USA

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Boat Plans Bolger


Arriving in Ensenada after the long passage up the Baja coast is always fun. The hard part of the voyage is over and we are rewarded with hot showers, good food and plenty of friends around.  Ensenada also marks the end of the long, cold overnight passages which for a two person crew can be tiring. Fortunately we had good conditions for most of the trip from Cabo so we arrived in good shape and after a hot shower and a good nights sleep we spent the next three days enjoying Ensenada.

Big new tugs in Ensenada
The weather was perfect for long strolls along the citys bustling Malecon. When there is a cruise ship in port, its full of foreign tourists, mostly Yanks. On other days Mexican vacationers come to breathe the fresh air and feast on street tacos. Mexico has enjoyed strong economic growth in the last couple of years and the tugs pictured above are an indicator of that growth. With the increasing likelihood of a west coast longshoreman strike in the US later this year, we can expect more US bound cargoes to pass through the Mexican ports of Ensenada, Manzanillo and Lazaro Cardenas.

The Carnival Inspiration calls at Long Beach and Avalon as well as Ensenada.
Even with a bit of haze, the San Diego skyline is beautiful from the top of Point Loma
A sailboat picks its way through the vast kelp beds off Point Loma

On Monday, June 16th we cleared the breakwater at 0100, bound for San Diego. It was a calm and uneventful 65 mile passage up the coast and we arrived at the customs dock in San Diego at 1130. We were met by our good friends, Tom and Mary Ellen when we arrived and we shared a toast to a voyage completed before the customs officials arrived. By 1330 the paperwork was completed and Finisterra was tied up at Southwestern Yacht Clubs guest dock. We stayed in San Diego until Saturday, June 21st, then departed for Finisterras home port of Avalon on Catalina Island, arriving at 1830. We often drop a hook over the stern when conditions are good in hopes of catching dinner. On this day, about 15 miles southeast of Avalon, we caught something else.

We couldnt figure out what it was at first. This was Lisas fish so she was reeling it in while I went for my camera.
She said, "I think its some kind of shark." We guestimated that it was about 40 inches long and weighed roughly 12-15 pounds.

One look at those jaws and we knew we had a baby great white on the hook. 
This was just a baby, but it looked dangerous enough to me.
Ill never forget the sound those jaws made as he snapped and bit at the hook in his mouth. It didnt take long for him to bite through the 40 pound test nylon leader, which was a good thing because there was no way I was going to bring this bad boy into the boat. Unlike other fish, Great White sharks are born live after a gestation period of 11-18 months (different sources claim various gestation periods). While in the womb, the baby shark apparently feeds on its siblings. Once out of the womb, the baby shark is on its own. This fellow had to be very young, which means his mama was probably not far away.
In this closeup you can see two rows of teeth, the large eye and the olfactory sensor near his snout. Even as a pup, this was one scary looking fish!

After that bit of excitement we arrived at Avalon at 1830 and took a mooring just off the pier, where we stayed a couple of days before moving up to Two Harbors.






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Boden Boat Plans Australia | Moth

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Boden Boat Plans Australia


Is it a boat is it a plane? Im guessing its a Moth the International development class which today manifests itself in these all carbon hydrofoil designs, described as Formula 1 for the water

Loads of great information on the UK International Moth Association site.




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Boat Plans African Queen | Creeping evidence

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Boat Plans African Queen


Heres the starboard side arm where it joins (or is supposed to join) the top frame on BH1. SOB decided to go for a walk after I thought it was going to set in place. How to avoid this?


And this is my new paperweight/epoxy trophy that I just cracked out a yogurt container. At least I got my container back! There are 2 ziploc bags and probably 20 bucks worth of epoxy in there.



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Boat Plans Wooden | Mary Mouse

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Boat Plans Wooden


Outside the marina at Haslar opposite Portsmouth is Light Vessel number One AKA Mary Mouse 2. She was the first light vessel to be commissioned by Trinity House after the Second World War, built by Phillips and Son Ltd in Dartmouth at a cost of £50,392. She was posted to various sites along the English Channel. Light vessels are not typically self-propelled so she was always towed to location regardless of weather.



She was manned with a Master and six crew on rotating shifts of four weeks on, two weeks off, and the crew would spend spare time radioing back weather reports to the Met Office and doing basic maintenance. Crew changes were by boat but later a helicopter pad was added to make crew replacement safer and easier.

In 1983 she was fully automated so was unmanned until her retirement as lightships were replaced by LANBY buoys.



Sold by Trinity House in 1993, John Dean and Richard Reddyhoff saved her from the scrap yard and had the vessel towed to Poole Quay for a head scratch and a think. Major modifications were carried out, including: a new lower deck amidships; addition of portholes, doors and windows; installation of shower cubicles; addition of bar, restaurant, galley, etc; marquee, and a colour change. Large pile guides were also added to anchor the vessel pontoon style on piles to the sea bed. LV1 was then renamed ‘Mary Mouse 2’ (after Mary Reddyhoff and Joanna ‘Mouse’ Dean)


Following the refit Mary Mouse 2 entered service at the Dean & Reddyhoff Haslar marina.

Length overall: 137,25 feet (ca. 41,80 m)

Length: 119 feet (ca. 36,30 m)
Beam: 25 feet (ca. 7,60 m)
Draught: 15 feet (ca. 4,50 m)
Displacement: 450 t

Authorities: Trinity House, London
Year of construction: 1946

Shipyard: Philip & Son Ltd., Dartmouth, England

Yard No.: 1133
Contract price: 50,392 GBP
Material: Steel

04.1945 Ordered by Trinity House, London

04.10.1946 Handed over

11/1946-12/1948 Royal Sovereign station

02/1949-05/1956 Tongue station

08/1956-06/1959 Outer Gabbard station

10/1959-01/1963 Tongue station

06/1963-06/1966 Smith´s Knoll station

09/1966-04/1967 Shambles station

08/1967-12/1967 Seven Stones station

03/1968-07/1968 Smith´s Knoll station

11/1968-03/1969 Shipwash station

05/1969-08/1969 Humber station

06/1970-10/1970 Royal Sovereign station

10/1970-03/1971 Galloper station

03/1971-08/1971 Owers station

11/1971-03/1972 Varne station

08/1972-11/1972 Shipwash station

05/1974-09/1974 Cross Sand station

09/1974-01/1975 Dudgeon station

02/1975-06/1975 Humber station

06/1975-11/1975 Outer Gabbard station

11/1975-03/1976 Tongue station

06/1976-04/1983 East Goodwin station

04/1985-04/1988 Tongue station

06/1989-10/1991 Dowsing station

1993 decommissioned


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Boat Plans Aluminum | The Rallye du Canal du Midi The salad is being served

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Boat Plans Aluminum


This event in southern France is so much more than a rowing expedition, or so we eventually figured out. It was equally a water-based opportunity to explore the thing that the southern French care most about – food, and wine.

But after various faux pas and misunderstandings, the organisers eventually realised that we werent deliberately trying to be rude; rather, it was just that we were British and didnt understand. 

It was very, very HOT.


Event: Rallye du Canal du Midi
Where: Toulouse to Béziers, France
Distance: 200km or so, plus a sprint regatta on the last day
Time: 5+1 days in stages, some untimed
Boat type: Touring coxed quads (known as "yolettes")
Number of crews in the event: 37
Event Organiser: Association de Toulouse Pierre-Paul Riquet

I first heard about the Rallye from some Dutch (I think) fellow participants in the Vogalonga to whom I got chatting on a vaparetto after the event. 15 months later, I was on the start line in Toulouse, with my husband and three friends. 

Wed arranged to meet a British rowing acquaintance, who then ran his own vineyard very near to the point wed be stopping for lunch on the Wednesday, and who occasionally sculled on the canal. On discovering our plans, he cautioned us that "You do realise its like doing the Boston Marathon every day for five days, dont you?", but actually the rowing turned out to be the easy bit.


The coxs seat may have come from
a classroom, but it was
practical and comfortable.
We meet our boat for the week
So, back to the car park by the opaque green river, in one of the less salubrious parts of Toulouse, and we found the boat that wed arranged to hire from the event organisers, the Association de Toulouse Pierre-Paul Riquet (PPR designed and built the Canal du Midi, an effort which more or less ruined and killed him). The ATPPR are a very dedicated bunch of individuals, who have worked hard to run this large event for years, but its quite a cash-strapped organisation, and on first sight, we were somewhat disappointed by the quality of the boat and blades. Later, it emerged that the boat was actually pretty suitable for what we were going to put her through, though we still thought that the blades had all the materials-science qualities of wilted celery. And heavy wilted celery at that.

After some rustic rig adjustments (just put some rusty washers under it, thatll jack the height up), we set off with 27 other yolettes, 4 brave singles and 5 almost as brave doubles. Their bravery was less to do with the many miles theyd have to row on their own, and more with the sheer difficulty of clambering out of less stable boats on your own at locks that were quite without landing stages or other places to get out of a small  boat with riggers.

At this point, I should record that there were two Belgian crews, one in an Empacher yolette, for goodness sake. The feeling that they were "over-dressed" in this high quality craft never really went away all week.

Chariots of hire
Portaging the boat on the chariot.
All of the yolettes in the event also had to be equipped with a "chariot" (say this in a French accent, please), which turned out to be an extremely robust piece of carpentry with small bicycle or possibly large pram heels attached. We were told we would need to put our boat on this to "portage" it round locks, which we were not allowed to go through (because it would have taken FAR too long and also used far too much water in a canal  that has to be fed from the mid-point, unlike British locked rivers, of course).

We had no real idea about how we would use the chariot at locks, but no doubt all would become clear once we got to the first one.

In fact, it didnt. And it took us a day and a half to get to grips with our chariot lock technique, by which time we had lost so much time compared with the handful of other fast crews, that we never clawed our way further up the rankings than third place, but more on this later. 

Suffice it to say that at various locks we managed to knock our rudder off, let the rudder strings trail out the back of the boat, drop the chariot in the water, and just be generally inept. Once wed honed the technique, though, my role, as the smallest member of the crew, was t be the "trolley dolly", and insert it under the boat when we pulled it out, and whip it out from under the boat at the last minute when relaunching. 


The chariot stowed correctly in the bows.
Note the bend on those wilted-celery blades!
It even took us a couple of gos to work out the best way to place the chariot in the boat, which was sideways (if youre ever doing the event, reply to this post and Ill explain more!). On the final day, we got chatting to the French crew from Lille, who were lovely, and ribbed us gently about how a bunch of obviously fit youngsters like us had let a bunch of 50 somethings like them beat us. We explained about our initial hopeless lock technique, and they smiled knowingly – having clearly been amused by our antics, but also having left us to figure it out for ourselves. We cant really blame them.


Lunchtime
Wed rather assumed that lunch would involve sandwiches and maybe a piece of fruit. If we were lucky, it might be French bread. But thats because a picnic is what we, as Brits, would expect to eat at lunchtime, on holiday, and especially on a riverbank in August. How wrong we were. Dont forget that many French people still go home for lunch, and have a proper meal. And the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere next to a field of sunflowers was no reason not to eat properly.


Waiting for lunch on Day 1.
There were 3 courses every lunchtime, and two bottles of red wine PER CREW. I kid you not. When the organisers came round to clear the tables at the end of the meal, they eyed up our bottles of wine - wed drunk about a quarter of one of them between the five of us - and asked, incredulously whether we were finished. As the week went on, I imagine that there were as many amused comments amongst the organisers about the strange rosbifs who dont drink good red wine to aid their digestions at lunch, as there were amongst us about the strange organisers who seem to think that serving red wine at lunch is a good idea when we have over 2 hours to row in searing heat.

The paella served on the first day was merely breaking us in gently: we eventually figured out that each lunch was an opportunity to sample the signature dish of the nearest town, and so it was that on absolutely the hottest day of the whole trip, we were served cassoulet for lunch - which would be a great thing to have after a long, frosty walk in the Cairngorms in, say, January, but was almost inedible to us. 


The fleet took up quite a lot of space, when stopped.

On that particular day, we were in a small town, and the lunch tables had been set up in the shade of a buttermarket-type place. Whilst we were making the most of the coolness of the thick stone building, a couple of the French participants sat on the terrace outside to sunbathe until the first course was set out. We were definitely culturally out of our depth!


Our faux pas with the salad
By Day 3, wed sussed our lock technique, and managed to achieve our first stage win, bring us up from 4th place to 3rd. When the results for the morning were put up on an easel noticeboard in the lunch area, all five of us were crowding round, comparing with other crews, as any "normal" British rower would, when one of the organisers rushed over and said, "Stop that, the salad is being served." The pre-eminence of gastronomy strikes again – there is nothing, simply nothing more important to the French than eating. And that includes winning.

Locks and shady construction features
An olive-shaped lock. With olive-coloured water.
First up, locks on the Canal du Midi are olive-shaped not rectangular. Im not an engineer, but I imagine this gives them a particular strength, as well as character. Though theyd be a pain to moor up in were one allowed to enter one, which we werent, of course.

Second, there are plane trees planed along one bank of almost the entire length of the canal. Whichever tree nursery got that contract must have been laughing all  the way to the bank, although I bet Pierre-Paul Riquet demanded a massive bulk discount. 

Anyway, these are still the original plane trees that were planted when the canal was built in the 1700s. So theyre getting on a bit, but nowadays, their roots more or less hold the bank together, so it will be nigh on impossible to replace them.

The canal twists and turns a surprising amount, which meant that, with trees mostly only on one side of the canal, we were sometimes in full sun, and sometimes in the shade of trees. It really was that hot, especially during the afternoon sections, that whoever was coxing would frequently call out things like "600m till a corner and some shade", which was the best news the sweltering rowers could hear.

Whoever was coxing also provided advance judgement on looming bridges - first giving notice of whether they were wide or narrow (which might necessitate pulling blades in) and second on the structures architectural qualities: "Charming old stone bridge", or "Ugly metal girder bridge", being the most common.

The entrance to the Tunnel du Malpas.
First prize in the "Exciting Coxing" competition was the 170m+ long Tunnel du Malpas which required pretty accurate steering, because there was no more than 2 feet clearance on both sides. I bagged coxing this, an arrangement that suited all members of the crew, although to my shame did brush the wall once, sorry.

The runner up was an incident on Day 4 of the trip, by which time motor boats were becoming more frequent. I realised that we were rapidly catching up with a wide and slow-moving boat that was quite oblivious of us approaching behind, and so was merrily put-put-putting away down the middle of the canal, leaving insufficient space on either side for me to get past. So I called for 10 firm from the crew, after which (with advance warning) they immediately easied and pulled their blades across, so we could sneak up the side of the cruiser, carried past by our momentum. We just made it.

Fortified, and not just by the red wine
Carcassonne.
Although sleeping at night was quite difficult because the temperature hardly dropped at all, we did enjoy our accommodation for the first three nights which was in the Youth Hostel in the fortified town of Carcassonne. In a very European manner, all dormitories were mixed: but the Belgian gent who was shoved in with the five of us (two women and three men), was unfazed, so we pretended not to be either.

The final days sprint regatta: and we still didnt understand
After arriving in our final destination, Béziers, on the Friday afternoon, we parked the boats in Béziers Rowing Cub car park for the night, and returned the next day for a little sprint regatta. It involved racing three abreast, and there must have been some kind of repechage system, as we kept getting told to turn around and join some other line up. We had very little idea what was going on. Although after a few baffling verdicts, we eventually realised they were judging by the stern, not the bows, as happens in every other regatta any of us have ever been to. We put it down as another cultural experience.

In summary
The Rallye du Canal du Midi is a unique event, just dont treat it as purely a rowing challenge. You will also struggle with the heat; with eating French food; with eating rich, cooked meals at lunchtime; with excesses of red wine; with "pipi sauvage" and worse, the facilities when there were any; and with having only a limited clue about whats going on because even if you speak reasonable French, the accents are strong here.

On the other hand, it was a great opportunity to get to know other rowers from all over Europe (and even Canada) over a prolonged row, and the organisers were lovely - they even provided a team of nurse-type ladies who offered a "we will tape up your hands, backs of legs and other injured parts" clinic "Matin, midi, soir" as they put it. Now thats not something you get ANYWHERE else.
Hats are essential.




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