Locals tell us that there are never gales in our part of France in August and if there are they certainly do not blow for nine days.  On no account believe these people.  It may have been unheard of but that is what happened in August 2002.We got caught out in a very unpleasant crossing to Calvi and then had to hang on to a mooring buoy in the bay for another six days.

Spring and the early summer afforded great sailing.  Tim and the crowd came down for an Easter cruise to Corsica and a Tuscan Island.  Mike and his mates came down for a circumnavigation of Corsica and then Martin and his friends came down for another trip to Corsica which was memorable for the wild life and the Classic Formula 1 racing in Monte Carlo.

After the trip to Rome last year the intention was to stay local and see as many of our friends down on the boat as was possible.  It started in July with eight of us on board including our kids and as soon as the schools broke up the teachers arrived.  The weather was very kind for Tim and Anne.  Sue and Bob came with their girls while Sue stayed on for that trip to Calvi.  Colin and Anne were camping in Sardinia when the bad weather struck but joined us for a cruise in the Scandola National Park.  Tony and Anne came down at the end of August with two of their boys for a gentle introduction to sailing.

This page was originally intended as a means of navigating to the articles for the year but I find myself rambling on about some boating related topic and this year it is the heads.

The Heads Must Always Work.

There are some things that are always true.  They are true in 2002.  They have always been true and they always will be true but in July 2002 circumstances conspired against me and the consequences reinforce one of sailings immutable truths.

Liz and I were so looking forward to having the six young people on board: Rudi and Hillary, Sophie and Dean along with Annica and Matthew.  There are always problems with young people.  They bring too many clothes and leave them lying about.  They stay in bed until halfway through the morning and the girls shed long blonde hairs all over the boat-- but they are fun.

Sophie and Hillary were both nervous of the heads expecting them to explode, to implode or simply not work. If they didn’t work then they could sneak out hoping the next person would get the blame or own up and ask father/father-in-law to sort out the problem because as certain as Jabsco make marine toilets neither husband was going to volunteer.

Sunday morning we had drinks party and a meal on the dock and what a wonderful night it was.  Everybody went shopping on Monday morning and after lunch we prepared to leave for a sail to the islands.

“Rudi, the handle on the forward heads won’t move” said Liz in her sort it out immediately tone.

“I think that might have been me” started up Hillary.  “I didn’t put much paper down and certainly not anything inappropriate because Sophie warned me about tampons, condoms and face wipes.”

“That’s OK Hillary” I said as I tried to make the handle move but there was no way it was going to shift.  In one visit she had halved the number of working toilets on board.  With ladies on board, toilets must work every time and there must be no smell and certainly no embarrassment.  That heads had to be cleared before we left.

With the six screws removed the plunger was gingerly withdrawn from the pump but there was nothing lurking behind but the temperature was 40C and sweat was running down my forehead into my eyes and this was not a good time to be wiping it out with my fingers.

“I didn’t put down too much paper. It is all my fault” Hillary kept repeating outside the heads.

“Shall I wipe the sweat off your brow?” said Sophie inside the heads.  I was touched by her concern until she added “It’s so unsightly.”

Whatever was lurking was lurking further down the line so I disconnected the outflow pipe from the pump and used that precision instrument-the metal coat hanger-to rod down the pipe to the seacock, and being fairly sure that all was clear, put the whole apparatus together and it worked.  Getting rid of the limescale and smell of ammonia wasn’t going to be that easy but we could get underway.

That night we lay at anchor between the islands.  The moon shone in through the open forepeak hatch and the boat rocked to Liz’s gentle snoring  but the smell of ammonia could not be ignored and I got up for a pee only to find the heads awash with 3cm of a foul thin brown liquid.  The union between the pump and the outlet was leaking.  Close the heads seacock, pump out via the shower and sort out the mess in the morning.  Immutable truth-the heads must work perfectly.

To this end I’ve drawn up a list:

Replace all the pipes regularly with sanitary grade hose

Service all heads at the beginning of each season

Carry spares

Make certain that everybody knows how to use them properly

PS Two weeks later the same heads blocked again and I’m certain that pieces of limescale dislodged during the original incident broke away, turned sideways and blocked the pipe.

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