The joy of Towing a boat

I imagine that, by now, my regular reader has given up and wandered off somewhere else in search of nautical mutterings. Well, here's an attempt to rekindle your interest, before embarking on the saga of Sail Caledonia.

You may recall, from my previous post, that I was in search of a tow car: I eventually settled on a Skoda Yeti (where do they find these names) and can report favorably on it's ability to tow. Martina*  behaved almost impeccably, dragging Vagabond on her trailer (Tarquin**) the lengths of the M40, the M6, the M74 and a chunk of the A9 in just over 12 hours.

But O, the joy of towing. In theory, there's a 60 miles per hour speed limit when towing a trailer. Trucks seem to be governed at 58. Then there's the dreaded trailer sway that cuts in when the car/trailer combination reach a critical speed which varies and seems to be determined by cross winds, road surfaces and other vehicles (for any given trailer and tow car combination).
So you have the choice - (a) hog the middle land (sorry, lane 2), observing the speed limit to creep past the trucks, ensuring the wrath of all unencumbered cars and white vans or (b) ignore the speed limit and creep up to the point where the dreaded sway is just on the point of setting in or (c) give up and resign to being governed by the trucks and stay in lane 1, being bounced about by the wonderfully degraded road surfaces on this part of the motorway.

Then there's the matter of what you can see behind you. Not much, even with extension mirrors.

And then there are the "services". Martina and Tarquin are about as long as one of the tractor and semi trailer rigs - they don't fit in the car parks assigned to caravans, so we have to share the truck parks. These have appalling surfaces, smell of hot oil, diesel and (frankly) human pee. One assumes that the holding tanks (or whatever passes for them in a truck) are emptied at these stops.......

And then there are the various bits of Tarquin that stop working or fall off during the journey. Like the stop, tail and indicator lamps. Martina (being a sophisticated and modern model) helpfully tells her driver when various lamps aren't working. This is fine when you start off - the issue can be fixed (by a strategic thump on the lamp concerned - and all is well. It's when she tells you that the left indicator is no longer working and your at 65 (shh) in the middle lane and you want to tell the drivers behind you are moving over..... or that you want to leave the motorway (to give the lamp another thump and experience the olfactory delight of the parking bay). And why is it always the left indicator?

Despite all her sophistication, Martina can't tell you when bits of the trailer fall off (including the wonderful strip of lights at the back). UK trailer regulations are rather opaque and there's a bit that says that the load must not overhang the rear of the trailer by a certain amount. To meet the letter of the law Tarquin is fitted with a pair of rails that are used to extend the rear of the trailer depending on the load length (the wonder of circumventing regulations - it's less complicated than tax minimization but the idea is the same). These are held in by a simple clamp, which has been known to work loose and allow one or other of these lumps of metal to be dropped on the carriageway. .

Then there's the rear of the trailer itself - this consists of a white plastic bar which carries the various rear lights (see above). This bar fits across the trailer on the ends of the extensions From time to time, one or other end of this bar works loose and drops onto the road. Other road users are most courteous and friendly, regularly flashing their headlights at you - you have to be on your toes to interpret these flashes (you're clear to pull in front of me, something has just dropped off (and hit me), get out of my way, etc).

This made the drive north to Fort William a slightly tense process and the Purser and I (with Martina  et al)**** took a leisurely three days, stopping at Tebay services (ample room to park) and Pitchlochry. This latter stop was to see the Scottish herbalist - Vagabond et al were parked in a local caraven site for the night for the princely sum of £5.

Now you'll have to wait a day or so whilst I try to remember what happened in the Great Glen

* She was built in the Czech republic (admittedly of German descent) and Czech females of my acquaintance seem to share this name.
 ** Well it can't be Thomas because he was a Tank Engine, Terrance was a tractor in the same series of books and Tarquin sounds a controlling, feisty sort of name**)
*** Controlling and feisty because Tarquin limits your options as a driver, feisty in that, if ignored, he will totally take charge and you'll find yourself jack knifed across all three lanes or into the adjacent field.

**** You can tell I've been infected by the academic writing bug by the judicious use of "et al" in this instance.