Convoi Exceptionnel
She’s here!
It was all very dramatic. Half the village turned out to watch, as this kind of excitement is a rare thing around here. On inspection, my lifeboat seemed to have made the trip pretty well. The damage to her starboard side looked no worse than it was in Berkshire. The lowloader truck driver reversed skillfully up to where the 60 ton crane had set up its enormous outriggers, half on the beach and half in my garden, and it was extended to its full height. They wrapped a skirt underneath the boat’s hull and started to lift her off the truck. Much creaking of old timbers! My heart was in my mouth. I was very thankful it was a clear windless day, a respite from the rainy gales that have been blowing at this time of year.
It took a lot of trial and error to get her to sit right on the railway sleepers. Her keel is not exactly level, which could have been a result of being badly supported for a long period in the past. Which could, in turn, be responsible for some of her seams opening up. I knew that once the crane went away I would never be able to change the way she is sitting, so it was important to get it right. I stood in the wheelhouse with my spirit level as they raised and lowered her, adding wooden shims each time to adjust her angle. As it happened, I was holding on to the wheel while ‘eyeballing’ the horizon; and at one point the rudder must have touched the ground, because the wheel gave a little lurch in my hand! Ha. I smiled. This boat has a personality, no question.
It was only once we had finally all agreed the angle was right, that I had a chance to take a breather and actually see what I’d got myself into. And I’m happy to say: she’s fantastic! The view from the wheelhouse where I will do most of my work is astonishing. She’s bright and airy inside due to the four antique hatches. Pretty dank, of course, after over a year of being left empty, but we will soon fix that. She has a large saloon, galley with cooker and sink, head/basin, and a comfortable double berth. The cupboards and wardrobe throughout are very well made, and the wood burning stove is adorable. Shell make a very nice guest house for our lucky visitors—though my kids immediately started trying to get dibs on who would live in her.
We plied the crane and truck drivers with tea and they drove away. It was all in a day’s work for them, but a once in a lifetime experience for me. I spent a good hour raising her mast for the first time as the sun began to set—I’m not sure it was ever functional, though it was probably intended for a ‘stabilising sail’ which many motorboats had to make them more comfortable at sea. The top two feet are rotten, and there’s no boom, but the rigging is in good shape. It’ll be a great place to site a large wind turbine, when I go into Renewable Energy mode. There’s a solid windlass and anchor on the foredeck, which raises a pretty funny question: do I anchor her in the garden so she won’t float away in an extremely high tide? but what if we need to raise it in a hurry when I rescue the family and head for dry land?
These are good problems to have. I’m sure it’s only the beginning of a slew of questions that I can only answer when I get a professional shipwright over to discuss what I need to do to her to put her to rights and extend her lifespan.
One request: please don’t come looking for her! there are only a given number of villages on the East Anglian coast, and you wouldn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out where we are. I’ll post lots of pictures here and probably some video, but I’d rather my family’s (and my neighbours’) privacy was not disturbed.
December 2nd, 2007 at 4:08 am
Many congratulation Thomas. That last picture is a wonderful sight. I can just imagine you in the wheelhouse at sunset, dials blazing on your Nord; lit only by the glow of your machines, waves of sound coursing through her as strongly as any current that she may once has passed through.
What a momentous day. I hope you celebrated with a glass or two!
Cheers indeed,
Andrew
December 2nd, 2007 at 4:51 am
congratulations!
what a truly inspirational place to make music!!!
(and pretty cool that a Saab tuck brought her to you)
December 2nd, 2007 at 4:51 am
(Truck that is) scania saab
December 2nd, 2007 at 5:35 am
She has a fair stern; reminds me of Robert Perry’s Valiant 40. Canoe sterns are beautiful. I’m looking forward to the shipwright’s report — wood is good (and can be refitted)!
December 2nd, 2007 at 9:01 am
I’ve now plied *myself* with tea, and I’m feeling poetic.
Ah, your old lifeboat/future studio has character, Thomas. She’s
got style. And I think that she made it to your place without a
problem because she remembers how to sail, even if she was
on the back of a truck at the time. When her wheel moved under
your hand, she was saying, “Let’s go!” But she’ll just have to be
patient for a while, until she’s watertight again. At least she
has a future now, thanks to you.
She’s in good hands.
Peace and land that undulates like water,
Kara
December 2nd, 2007 at 9:04 am
“Convoi Exceptionnel”
That would make a lovely album title for the first batch work to come out of her wheelhouse.
Congrats! It seems you have slightly more clement whether than we…
Cheers,
Jon
December 2nd, 2007 at 9:25 am
That should have read “batch of work…”
Congrats again!!
Jon
December 2nd, 2007 at 1:41 pm
Wow… just think how much faster the pyramids would have gone up with that kind of equipment. Glad it made it in one piece. Good luck getting the studio up and running inside her!
Beech
December 2nd, 2007 at 2:25 pm
Great stuff
I swear in that last picture she’s got a big smile. In sight of the sea again. Bliss.
December 2nd, 2007 at 6:01 pm
Gosh, this beats the hell out of Andy Partridge’s garden shed!
Which, of course, means that you need to invite him over once your studio is operational. Which, of course, means that he’ll need to add harmonica to some of your new tracks.
Hey, I can dream, right?
J. D.
December 2nd, 2007 at 8:43 pm
She’s a beauty. Best of luck restoring her!
Brian
December 3rd, 2007 at 12:49 am
Thomas,
I so glad that all went ok no problems.
Many happy hours lay ahead tinkering, she looks great.
The wheel house looks a wonderful place to sit and watch the sun rise this time of year.
Lindon
December 3rd, 2007 at 2:50 am
Looks like you got it all sorted before the weather closed in. Having just experienced a nasty Force Ten here in Dorset*, it wouldn’t have been the smoothest of operations if the storm had caught up with you at the wrong moment.
* where coastguards were called out to investigate a sinking ship, only to find it was the ship that sunk in last month’s storm. We’re a bit careless with our boats down here.
December 3rd, 2007 at 4:00 am
Thomas,
Been lurking here for too long, but with all this news of your new venture I just felt I had to add my congratulations.
Really good to hear that it all went well with the delivery, it seems you were pretty lucky to get a gap in the mad weather we’ve been having. She looks like a fine specimen to me (but I know nothing about boats).
Does she have a name, are you going to rename her? I seem to remember there’s a whole load of sea-lore about renaming boats, I think it has to be done right for fear of who knows what! I seem to remember also it involves some good Champagne….
May she provide you with many hours of tinkering, and hopefully the prefect sanctuary where the creative juices will flow. Good luck also with your off-grid amibitions.
Bruce
December 3rd, 2007 at 9:47 am
I am very excited for you and your new floating studio. It is rather timely to be considering a floating “back door” and mobile studio. It reminds me rather a lot of what some pie-eating friends in the Pacific North West are doing.
All the best to you and your family in your adventures.
Chris
December 3rd, 2007 at 1:15 pm
So glad to see the new digs! Congrats. Hope that you are well.
December 3rd, 2007 at 10:05 pm
Good to hear thing went without a hitch.
I was thinking with the way you take care of things, the depth sounder and compass will be converted to midi controllers and level meters at the drop of a hat. You can tun the wheel into a mod wheel. And of course, don’t forget the one-shot sample horn lanyard.
Come to think of it, you may be able to find someone with the Queen Anne (That was the ship, right) whistle and/or bell that you can sample and hook up to summon tea from the support crew. er, family.
December 3rd, 2007 at 10:06 pm
question: Does the blue stripe on the side delineate the lines of the original lifeboat?
December 4th, 2007 at 7:54 am
Yes, you got that right. The blue line was the original gunwale. Planking below is double diagonal carvel, above is horizontal. She would have had oars, and possibly a steadying sail and small auxilliary parafin engine!
December 4th, 2007 at 3:02 pm
So presumably your boat would have been one of a few life boats aboard the Steam Ship Queen Anne back in the late ’30s!?
December 4th, 2007 at 11:45 pm
I’m told there were probably two or four. The SS Queen Anne was actually damaged by a German torpedo during the war off New Zealand, and then on her way to the US to be repaired she collided with an American ship—so there’s a good chance her lifeboats saw some action!
December 5th, 2007 at 2:11 am
WoW!! Thomas what an amazing studio you have come out with!!! You r’ a genius. It will be also a great inspirational place for the fabulous kids and Kat!!!!!.
December 5th, 2007 at 5:29 am
Congratulations Thomas,
She’s got fine lines and looks to be the start of a great adventure. Enjoy.
December 10th, 2007 at 3:08 am
If the weather carries on like this, you might need her sooner than you anticipated!
December 11th, 2007 at 7:06 am
Oh, splendid stuff. The urge to get a narrowboat and crawl along ditches just got stronger.
The wheelhouse won’t be complete without some appropriate radio gear, though. An ex-Admiralty B40, perhaps, or a CR100, tuned to 2182 kilocycles, with a nice longwire from stern to mast, ceramic egg insulators and ladder feed. Mmm.
And will you be calling the onboard computer Das Boot?
BL