Saving £1000's by doing the work then spending £10,000

A job I hadn’t foreseen, wasn’t looking forward to and really didn’t want to do was removing Juna’s gearbox.. on anchor.. alone.

The passage that bought us back to teh UK was for this moment. the aging Borg Warner Velvet drive had been successfully nursed back across the channel, but now it had to come out of the boat for any further repairs. We were at anchor in Portland Harbour. Steph and the children had taken the opportunity to head back up to the Midlands to see family, leaving me with the task of getting the gearbox out of the boat and over to Lancing Marine for repairs. The gearbox weighed close to 100 kilos and was installed in a boat that nobody appeared to have considered it might ever need to come out of. Getting it disconnected was one thing. Getting it out was quite another. I rigged up all sorts of blocks and tackles, but the most valuable tool, as so often happens, was a borrowed one. A friend ( thank you Jez) had a little chain hoist bought from the middle aisle at Lidl. It had come to my rescue before and was about to do so again. Worth every penny, particularly as I hadn’t paid for it. With socket extensions poked up through various holes in the engine room ceiling, and much lifting and manoeuvring, I managed to get the gearbox high enough to work it out through the side of the engine room. From there, plenty of copies of 'All at Sea', snaffled from various marina offices for just such an occasion were put to use protecting the cabin sole as I slid the gearbox across. Damaging the floor is, of course, punishable by death. Next came the companionway. I had a woefully inadequate block and tackle, which I reckoned was probably rated for about 50 kilos. Suspended from the boom, it very gingerly brought the gearbox up and out. Apart from gearbox oil being pretty well everywhere, so far, so good. The bit I was most worried about was still to come: swinging the boom out and lowering the gearbox into the inflatable tender. I’d already imagined most of the ways this could go wrong, including me diving to the bottom of Portland Harbour to retrieve it or to accept my own demise. But slowly, inch by inch, I managed to lower it into the dinghy. A dinghy trip back to the marina, a borrowed car and a drive to Brighton later, I arrived at Lancing Marine. My hope was that turning up on their doorstep with the gearbox would help explain the urgency. Perhaps they could repair it quickly, or supply the parts and let me do the work myself. Ideally in their workshop. As it happened, they were brilliant. The diagnosis however was less welcome. The main output shaft was beyond economical repair. If we wanted to get moving again in any reasonable time, we needed a new gearbox. We took the opportunity to upgrade to a heavier-duty model. the chaps at Lancing Marine were very accommodating and downed tools to get one off the shelf, prepared and ready for me to take away. Financially, I was significantly lighter than when I’d walked in. But aside from the cost, it was about as good an outcome as I could have hoped for. I’d gone looking for advice and a repair, and was coming back with a brand-new gearbox with a warranty. The previous one had lasted 30 years. My expectations for this one are high. I arrived back in Portland under cover of darkness, which was just as well as I snuck round the back of the marina yard and painted the new gearbox with a selection of rattle cans from Halfords. Then dinner with Tery, the Bumbling Sailor, and an early night. There was plenty still to do. The following morning, with rather less energy than I’d hoped for, I repeated the whole process in reverse. This time Terry helped me manoeuvre the gearbox back into its home. What could have been an even more expensive job was done. It had probably only cost me six months of my life, but they’ll be six months off the end, so that’s all right. I wasn’t suddenly certain that nothing else would go wrong. But with the new gearbox fitted, I felt a lot more confident about heading off again.