We spend an extraordinary 20 days in a dry dock at Castelnaudary from the 30th of April to the 19thof May, sharing space and costs with “Vertrouwen”, a beautiful Dutch barge owned by our friends, George and Sue (Hoare).
Yet another page in our retirement adventure is about to be turned. There must be lots of boat people - and I suppose that is what we are - who have had this experience. But for us it is entirely new. We are excited about the coming unknown and yet another adventure – But hang on, enough of all that romantic drivel, this is not romantic, this is hard work, self doubt, anxiety and chilling reality!
For me I worry about what I will find beneath the waterline which has been seen by no-one since we had the hull re-coated once with something black, just before leaving for France three years ago. “Body and Soul” was at that time, still under warranty. Then there are the anodes – ah yes, remember the anodes? will they be completely dissolved and obsolete after several months in brackish water and two days in the salty Etang De Thau? – and how long has this fatal electrolysis been going on? We dread finding the steel hull, once a proud and substantial 10mm thick, perhaps now only paper thin…. only a matter of time and down we go in a heap of rust and confusion. Then there’s my wobbly rudder which may, for all I know, be about to fall off. How will I fix it? Will there be someone available who can if I can’t? Of course it almost goes without saying - the new replacement “Erbespacher” central heating appliance has failed us. So hot water is going to be a problem and there is no agent in Castelnaudary to attend to it.
At 9am sharp on the 30th of April both “Body and Soul” and “Vertrouwen” hover nervously around in circles in the large “Bassin” (or lake) beside the dry dock, waiting like patients in a dentist’s waiting room, for their turn to go in, but with fate in their own hands.
The Frenchman who is to let us in to the dry dock seems to me to be suspiciously unhelpful. I can see Lucie trying to squeeze information from him, standing in her usual position in the bow, about positioning our boats over the concrete plinths correctly when we get in there. There is much shrugging of indifferent shoulders. His job is only to let us in, after which we can do what we like! He is not responsible for anything that happens. Even more alarming – he is putting on a wet suit – “but this is a dry dock,” I mutter, whilst circling for the fifth and last time. We watch the man, with the aid of binoculars, slowly do what he is presumably paid for.
The entrance gate to the dry dock is a curious black metal contraption which, on the face of it, could not possibly work, but we watch, fascinated as he shows us how it does. Imagine, if you will, a fifteen foot double feeding trough for cows, with large lugs on it at either end and a metal grid across it acting as a bridge upon which people can walk from either side. Firstly, the man must fill the empty dock, so he shuts the sluice gate at the far side of the dock to stop the egress of water. He then opens two “valves” on either side of the trough to let the water in to the dry dock. The dock slowly fills up and the water level rises. The trough remains empty and rises with it, like an empty teacup when in a washing-up bowl, until it floats out of its slots in which the lugs are positioned. Our Frenchman, having had the foresight to tie a rope on to one end of the trough, and with the aid of a colleague who has mysteriously arrived in time, leads the floating gate into the dock and beckons us to enter therein. Our man in a wet suit – “what is he doing” – I ask - “why is he wading in up to his armpits, into the gap left by the absent gate?” - George shrugs his shoulders unhelpfully. Then it clicks. He is shuffling across the gap using his feet to clear any debris that might have accumulated there and which may prevent the gate from being watertight when slotted back in to position behind us.
I slowly drive “Body and Soul” into place on the right-hand side, as arranged, and soon “Vertrouwen” is beside me on my left. We are nervously jostling for position and trying to stay still at the same time, using the white markers painted on the dock sides as a guide to the whereabouts of the unseen plinths beneath us. The gate is now back where it came from and they are about to sink it into place by pulling the plug within the troughs. The troughs fill and the gate sinks into its slots which makes it relatively water-tight. Lucie is shouting hastily translated orders but we cannot hear them because of engine noise. We turn off our engines and sink slowly, quietly and carefully, like a couple of swans on a nest full of eggs. The new man sees that we are nervous, he is smiling as Lucie is explaining that these are not just holiday vessels; these two beauties are our homes – and not to be messed with. (this picture shows the dry dock refilling after we had finished with it)
We seem to have got it right although my starboard bow is wedged a little on an unseen concrete slope which conveniently crumbles under the 26 ton weight of “Body and Soul”. We both end up mercifully flat on four plinths and clear of our precious propellers and tillers.
P-hew!
Our Frenchmen seem unconcerned and disappear somewhere – oh yes it’s France and it’s midi. Time for lunch. But unperturbed, George and I leap into action as we don overalls which will become our uniforms for the next 20 days.
It is a dry dock alright but it is a very wet and muddy one. We make it worse with our pressure washers so we decide to spend an afternoon flushing and brushing the mud away into the small stream which leaks past us from the gate through a channel cut out for that purpose. This stream becomes very important to us, not just for this, but as the general conduit into which our domestic waste is piped. With great prudence and perspicacity, George has arranged for some waste pipes to be ready for this task, which we attach to the appropriate orifices on our stranded homes. Well, it’s one thing to be wading knee deep in mud but quite another to be knee deep in …. well you will have got my drift?
On “Body and Soul” there is no sign of there having been any paint whatever, there is therefore no old paint to remove but instead, once the surface crustaceans and weeds have been flushed away, there is a layer of what I can only describe as a hard calcium substance which clearly must be removed too. I decide to get it all back to the steel and then to stabilize it with an anti-rust product which the Dutch barge owners use and recommend called “Awatrol-Rustol”. George uses the same. We may yet live to regret it, but it seems to do the trick. More alarming is the uncomfortable number of rust “pock” marks on the sides of “Body and Soul”. I suspect some nasty electrolysis causes this through a lack of anodes. I later arrange for an excellent local “ferronier” to weld on four new ones which we bought in Agde as a precaution. So we now have four new and four old anodes which should be enough. I wish I had bought at least two more to be sure.
As if this isn’t enough to keep us in fear and trembling, fate plays an unkind hand. Three days after entering dry dock there is what can only be described as a truly unfair calamity. Just when we are growing in confidence about our hulls and beginning to relax into the work routine, our hot water tank springs a serious leak. There is a minor flood before we realize what is happening. The system requires that we have to turn off the whole of our waterworks and drain the offending tank and replace it with a new one. What can we do without water for however long it takes to get this new one? Once again Lucie’s wizardry on the internet finds a UK supplier who has it delivered in seven days time, including one day for yet another French bank holiday.
We have been so lucky so far to have friends around us who are, by the very nature of boating, enthusiastic, practical and helpful. No sooner has the problem arisen, George volunteers his help and advice and we try hard to apply an “isopon” coating on to the hole, which we can only feel but not actually see - to at least stop the leak, temporarily. This is smartly followed by more help from another couple, Bill and Sylvia on the barge “Biesbosch” who had shared a winter in Briare 2006/7 with us. Bill actually ditches his plans for continuing their journey towards Toulouse and spends nearly two days plumbing the new tank in for us. I am left in awe of their kindness and skill. Plumbing has never been my strongest point but my role in all this was the ticklish problem of removing the three stairs into Body and Soul in order to gain access to the tank ready for its removal and replacement. It was all quite alarming and very messy, with the added inconvenience of having to get water from a hosepipe through the kitchen window and boiling kettles for hot water - Not something one would wish to happen to anyone but because of the camaraderie and goodwill, there is much learning, laughter and good times are had by all. (see above “not so dry” dock party!)
We roll on four coats of International Paint’s “Intertuff 16” on to our hull in addition to the anti-rust solution and we also prepare and repaint the blue stripe above the waterline. Then George shows me how to restore the red livery paintwork on our upper sides using “T-Cut” followed by polish. Both “Body and Soul” and “Vertrouwen” now look wonderful and attract many admiring comments from passers–bye. It has all turned out to be a great success and we both fervently hope for a good three or perhaps four years grace before having to do it all over again.
Rising waters and we begin to float. but we arrange to stay afloat in the full dock for 24 hours to make sure that no damage has been inflicted on our hulls.
All is well and we exit the dock in triumph the next day.
A few days off would certainly be welcome!
Here following are a few more pictures of our traumas in dry dock and also,more importantly, of Charlie Blair taken byLucie on her recent visit to Wiltshire. ( She couldn't cope with the lack of hot water! Following.....please wait; ahah, here we are.......
Our friends Jo and Tim
Any of the above snaps (not those with dark edge surroundings) can be enlarged by clicking on them!