One of those glorious
sunsets.
Talking about our conveyance, Sno’ Rush was lifted back into
the water on 15th November 2011, after a long haul in repairing the
starboard keel. Claude (our French GRP guru) was helping out me, and a myriad
of other needy boat owners, in his spare time. The plan was to fill the hole
with polyester and layer a couple of coats of impregnated matting on top to
form a base for a top, barrier coat of epoxy and matting. The drying with a
blow-drier seemed to have worked so Claude began to infill with polyester. All
was going well up to the stage of fairing the polyester to receive the barrier
coat. I was watching the clouds of white dust as he sanded the surface. Then I
saw grey streaks appearing. Claude stopped and gave me a real sad look. It was
clear that there was still more water in the keel and this had percolated down
and through the new polyester. He cut a gash through his new work and water started
to seep through. We both realised that it was not a simple repair as the keel
hadn’t dried out after two weeks in the hot sunshine. We had a long chat about
it, whether to seal it as-is and carry on, or start drilling holes in the keel
to aerate and dry it. Really, how could I think about patching the old girl? I
have a West System manual which gives the correct method to dry a keel out.
Claude obviously had the French equivalent as he suggested the same method, and
I know he hadn’t tackled this job before. So, drill in hand, I punctured my
baby’s skin with six 10mm holes along a mid- keel line. Claude had tapped the
keel and heard the hollow sound of cavities which we were hoping were
connected. He cut-back his infill to sound material and fitted the nozzle from
his hot-air blower to the open gash. We were as pleased as punch to feel hot
air blowing out of the holes - somehow they were connected. Drying like this
went on for almost a week, after which a thorough dousing with acetone, then
further drying, and we had warm dry, sweet air puffing from the holes. At long
last the inner keel was dry. After more filling with polyester and matting,
Claude started the sanding down for the barrier coat. I wasn’t really prepared
for the shock of seeing a 12-to-1 bevel for the epoxy barrier coat. It has to
be done, but watching Claude chamfer the little 10mm holes into saucer-size
bevels really did bring home what we were doing.
Watch out birds,
somebody else wants the bread!
All holes and gash filled with polyester, it was now time for me to start the epoxy barrier coat. Claude has an ailment common to glass-fibre workers in that he suffers a raging skin rash from being anywhere near epoxy. Anyway, along he came covered from head-to-foot, wearing a breathing mask and carrying tins, bottles, digital scales and other paraphernalia. Work went well, with the first coat of thickened epoxy, and then ever-increasing sizes of matting bonded with thinner epoxy layers. After a couple of sequences of setting, sanding down and epoxy layers, the surface was faired and completed, only the odd ripple showing where our repair had taken place. Since the epoxy layer is a barrier to water, a sealing coat of paint is not required. Three coats of good quality antifouling, shipped from the UK as it is twice the price over here, and Sno’ Rush was finished. Hurrah!
Repaired, washed and
polished, and waiting for the lift-in.
I arranged the lift-in with the Capitaine and he offered me a couple of berths. I chose the one with the easiest access, not knowing that the pontoon was nick-named ‘The English Pontoon’. Almost a third of the 30 boats on it are English-owned, and a good few spend most of their time aboard. The reason for their choice is clear, excellent weather, good facilities, closeness to the canals both North and South and an annual berthing fee of only €1664 (£1330) plus electricity (up to 32 Amps) at €0.175 (£0.14) per kWH. Trust the English to know where the bargains are!
We were due to return early in January but had to cancel the
flights. My father was going through a bad health patch which was also having a
knock-on effect on my mother, so both were in need of a bit of support. We
didn’t get back until 6th April and we were wondering what kind of state
Sno’ Rush would be in. I’d been monitoring the weather and saw that a few times
snow and freezing temperatures had been forecast. On one occasion, -10°C had
been forecast, so I was a bit concerned to say the least. When we got back, the
on-board weather machine showed -8°C outside over winter; whilst in the cabin
it reached -2°C. Fortunately, everything was ok, unlike a few of my neighbours,
one of whom had a cracked heat exchanger. Others had a cracked exhaust tube and
a split freshwater pipe. Good job I emptied all the water tanks and filled the
engine with fresh antifreeze.
Idling in the sun!
We were hoping to set off quite quickly for Sète when we
arrived back, but soon realised it was impossible with the speed that the Rhone
flows during April. The rains and Alpine snow-melt cause the river to rise, and
speed-up. The French publish up-to-the-minute flow rates on the CNR website (in
m³/s) – for May/June the average is around 1550 m³/s (3kn) at Valance. The
lowest flow rates are in August/September and October, at around 1050 m³/s
(2kn). At the moment, the rains just won’t let the Rhone fall to a level that I
am happy with. So, at the moment we are idling around, fixing little jobs and
enjoying the sun until the flow rate reduces. And then the final push to Sète.