Diary of a deckbitch…

The boat was taken to Fraserburgh, surveyed (passed with flying colours) and repainted in our company colours.  We also felt that the old name, Bounteous Sea simply said “old trawler” and so a new name had to be decided. 
Being the first all female owned and crewed liveaboard dive boat in the UK and Orkney having very strong Viking connections, we decided on the name “Valkyrie”.  Of course many people consider changing a boats name to be unlucky, so a re-naming ceremony will be done by the local minister to hopefully keep the bad luck firmly on the quayside.   

So why that boat? 

Well she is a recent conversion, a real blank canvas with which to work, allowing us to put what we know to be a good system in place, instead of making do with what is already there.  She has a large compressor, can carry oxygen and helium with ease and has plenty of deck space.  A diver lift is being installed as is a Haskel. 

She  has a heated saloon with TV, DVD player, laptop station (for download of pictures and viewing on the widescreen TV) video games console and large selection of books.  She also has a separate well laid out galley, enabling me to offer fully catered trips with ease, and also allowing for people who follow special diets to enjoy the food. 

Below decks she has 6 clean, individually heated double cabins, all with 7ft bunks, hot and cold running water and all bed linen provided.  There is also a power shower sited below decks – so no more running over cold wet deck clutching a towel in the driving rain! 

A tumble drier will be installed for the drying of damp undersuits and since we run a generator while at sea, we have 240v power 24 hours a day – perfect if you forget to charge your torch overnight!  Two toilets are on board, both above decks, where there is also an additional shower cubicle. 

Pretty snazzy huh?

The Saga of the homeward journey.

Getting back from Fraserburgh (just north of Aberdeen) to Orkney ended up being something of an adventure for me.  Our first attempt was over a week ago, setting off from Orkney in the tiny aeroplane from Kirkwall to Aberdeen we rise above the patchwork of the Orcadian islands, the early morning sun glinting off the many tiny lochs in the peat.  Passing over the flow i get an excellent view of the Churchill Barrers and long to be in there, the visibility looks excellent.  Over the firth the white tipped waves are an omen of what is to come, but then we pass into the cloud and the clean bright white light of the day.

Landing at Aberdeen 35 minutes later we grab a taxi and head straight for Fraserburgh, hoping to catch the evening tide.  Catching my first glimpse of her in her new livery, only the shadows of her former identity show through, my heart leaps.  She looks damned good.  Clambering on board being wary of the odd bit of still wet paint is a strange experience.  Knowing the boat is actually ours, and this will be where i live and work for the forseeable future is a very strange feeling indeed. 

Leaving the harbour we can see the waves breaking over the stone breakwaters, never a good sign but the forecast is improving.  The bow lifts and plunges in the darkness, white spray catches in the floodlights illuminating our aft decks and water washes over the shelterdeck, pouring back into the sea in torrents.  We are thrown around like we are in a huge washing machine, but plough on in the knowledge that the weather window will be slamming shut in the next 24 hours. 

The alarm cuts through the noise of the waves, the forward bilge has taken in water and Hazel goes below to check to see if there is a problem.  Returning 5 minutes later from below with the news we have water in our bilges, we make the decision to return to Fraserburgh, even though the sea is actually starting to flatten out now we were beyond the groundswell.  A little of our caulking (stuff which goes between the planks) had come loose, always a danger when its new, and we would need to get it replaced - something impossible to do easily in Orkney.  It made sense to get back to Fraserburgh as it was close and had space on the ship lift.  Its a pain in the arse, not only that we didnt get back, but that the boat has to get taken out of the water again, but better now than in the middle of the Pentland Firth. 
 So we return to Orkney on the ferry, feeling defeated, deflated but resilient that this will be happening soon, we just have to be patient.

Waiting……

Watching the weathers every move, watching arrows shift, grow, shrink and dissappear, another window opens before us.  Andy Cuthbertson joins us for the journey and we meet in the bitingly cold wind on the quay beside the Hjaltland, the ferry to Aberdeen.  The overnight journey is surprisingly smooth (which is good as we dont have a cabin and try to sleep in the cafe on bench seating!), which is a good omen for the next day, we plan to journey down on saturday as this has the best weather window.  Arriving in Aberdeen we catch the bus to Fraserburgh and head down to the boat.  I grab some kip while we organise for her to be lowered back into the water and soon enough we make the decision to leave today, weather information is looking good for the passage, and so just after 1pm we leave Fraserburgh basking in the winter sunshine.

Making our way north the boat behaves perfectly, taking the slight swell well within her stride.  The Moray Firth is the roughest part of the journey, taking over 6 hours to cross this huge open space.  Passing by the Beatrice Oil Platform, her orange lights glaring from miles away. 

Entering the Pentland Firth i can feel the knot of tension in my stomach.  We are not perfect for the tides, but it shouldnt be too bad.  Regardless, this is an incredibly busy stretch of water with treacherous currents and we are slowed from 10 knots to 4 knots during the main part of the crossing as the tide surges past us. 

Entering the flow from Hoxa sound we are on home turf and everyone seems to suddenly feel the fact we have had next to no sleep for 24 hours.  I take the wheel, which is surprisingly easy - the autopilot is doing all the work i can see me getting to like this boat an awful lot.

Coming alongside in Stromness we tie up in the rain, leaving our new toy to cause the inevitable fuss it will when people see her tomorrow.

February 2nd, 2007 Posted by helen | Uncategorized | one comment