I had a few options and I had to make a decision. The new engine would have been nice, but I could not contemplate trying to find that amount of money. The co-contractor had finally called me and had taken details. They sent me an estimate for the work that would need doing. The estimate was very light on detail and I was concerned about what wasn't being included in the job-list as well as what was. It came in at the lowest quote of the three formal options, but I could see the actual invoice working out to be quite an inflated version of the estimate. My experience of waiting so long for them to contact me and the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone suggested to me a weariness that may have indicated a lack of dynamism. Of course I could have been quite mistaken, but learning to trust my instincts has been a very tough life lesson to take on. I guessed that taking my engine to Rugby myself was probably the most reliable option. I knew the marina to have a good reputation and I had bought spares from them a few times over the years. The voice of the owner when we spoke was in massive contrast to the co-contractor. I knew him to be a man well-past retirement age, but he exuded enthusiasm and confidence and it was obvious he knew my engine type in great detail. I really liked the passion he communicated and I felt very confident that he was my best option. There had been one further possibility that I discounted more or less immediately. A relative of one of the residents at "Butlins" apparently knew a lot about boats and had a boat himself, albeit a big GRP (glass-reinforced plastic) twin-outboard cruiser. We spent a long time on a video call with him diagnosing my problems from the phone screen and offering to fix them for far less than I would pay the boatyard. I had been down this route many times before to my frustration and cost. That was really a non-starter, specially since he seemed to be quite the salesman and I'd pretty much decided that I had made the best decision for me.
I went back to the local boatyard. They would tow me in, remove my engine and put it into my van which I would then drive to Rugby. Normally there was a wait of six weeks for a rebuild, but a spot had opened up the following Monday after an engine that had been due for repair was held up by paperwork in Norway and had had to postpone. I would probably have a rebuilt engine ("as good as new") by the end of the following week. I reckoned that with the likely costs of the two marinas involved it would probably add up in the region of £6-7k. It was less than half the price of a new Beta 43 and it had to be done.
Cutting a long story a little shorter, Alan - from the local boatyard - appeared in one of the marina's hire fleet before the 9am on the Wednesday morning and prepared to tow me the mile or two to the boatyard. We were going to breast up the whole way, which would offer him good control over the two boats. I wondered how we would negotiate some of the narrower parts of the river, but at least that wouldn't be my problem! Almost immediately we hit the first challenge. The Middle Level Commissioners had started pumping water again and this time the pumps were working hard. Our trip towards the marina was against a strong flow of outgoing water and the depth had been severely affected. We hadn't gone far at all when we bottomed out and neither boat was able to move. That was when Alan suggested we would need to try him in front pulling me behind. I wasn't as keen on this plan, but there was no other option. I collected the barge pole ready to deploy it to keep me from swinging too far one way or the other. Fishtailing my way past a line of GRP boats in the narrowest part of the river through the town made me very nervous. I really didn't want to have to fend off a plastic boat with my bargepole. That would be inviting trouble. Alan took the journey quite gently and it wasn't as difficult as I feared. A little over an hour later we arrived in the marina. I was there in plenty of time to drive to my eye clinic appointment in Peterborough. I'm glad I'd had the foresight to take my van to the marina the day before and leave it overnight in their car park. It is so lovely, not to mention unusual, when a plan actually comes together. Despite the horror of the engine seizing up in the first place, the plans for sorting it out could have been a lot more complicated than they turned out to be and have taken many weeks longer than they did.
Let's see if video and still photography can tell the next part of the story.
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| Plan B - being towed behind, bargepole ready |
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| Arriving at the marina |
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