Peace IV
Peace is the first Tiki 46 and was built by Ann and Neville Clement in Britain. The Tiki 46 came about largely in response to their requests for a new boat from the Wharram design team. Currently Ann and Neville are cruising the east coast of the USA from their home in Rhode Island south to the Bahamas and back with the season. Coinciding with their trips are several Polynesian Catamaran Association (PCA) meetings along their route. You can check out the PCA website for details of up coming meets if you would like to participate.
I first met Ann and Nev in 2004 as they were
on their way north when they stopped in Beaufort, NC. Their warmth and
generosity about sharing their experiences with me was one of the reasons that
this site was created. We all owe them a great deal of thanks for pioneering the
building and cruising the Tiki 46. The following letters from Ann and Neville
chronicle their early experiences with building and sailing Peace IV. You can
find their other letters on the
Wharram website.
(Please bear in mind that the Clements maintain all rights, including
copyright, to their original publications. ) You can contact Ann and Neville Clements
via pocketmail at
peacefour@pocketmail.com.
Please remember to email only
short messages (6000 characters or less) in plain text. Do not reply to messages
or send images or attachments. Deciding to build a Tiki 46
When Nev and I first met in 1991, I was living aboard my Shannon 28, Peace II (cutter rigged monohull) and had just sailed solo across the Atlantic and was wintering in Bristol, England in the city docks. He was newly widowed and spending lots of time working on his wooden Folkboat a little further down the stone quay and we started by admiring each other's boats. His was beautifully varnished wood and had real sweet lines. Mine was a perfect little single hander and I was quite comfortable sailing her and living aboard. I thought he had lots of money because he had a house and a boat. He thought I had lots of money because I was out cruising, so we both had a big laugh when we finally discovered we were both strapped for funds, but it was too late by then. We were already in love.
Two years later, he had quit work, sold his house, furniture, car, the Folkboat, mobile home in France, and even his motorbikes, and joined me on Peace II bringing seven tool boxes and a shoebox of photographs. For a whole year, we cruised happily together. I discovered how nice it was to have somebody aboard who could fix things, and he learned how to cope with my impulsiveness, ("Hey, the wind is right for France, want to make a right turn?").
We were in the Bahamas making a night passage by moonlight when Nev came out and nearly fainted to see that we had only a foot of water under the keel doing hull speed over the Yellow Banks and he could count the starfish on the bottom. That is when we first talked about catamarans and Nev was quite animated on the subject drawing several designs right then and there. In Nassau, he applied for his US visa and while we were waiting for it to be issued, we met a couple on a Wharram and went aboard for supper. The evening was mild and we ate on deck looking through the deck slats at the water below all glowing like liquid turquoise. Wow!
We sold little Peace II to an old friend in 1994, flew to Britain, married, and bought a canal boat (Peace III) to live on and restored a 31 foot elderly plywood Golden Hind 31 to sail. That was when I learned that Nev could not only fix things, but we could work together and actually build things. Together, we are capable of getting a lot of work done. But we were never truly happy with the Golden Hind 31. And one afternoon we were in Swansea, South Wales visiting his mother, and stopped in at the Economy Tools store. A spool of galvanized wire caught Neville's attention and he started to tell me how wire like this could be stretched tight using a weight on one end and it would then be straight enough so you could make all your measurements to build a boat using it as your base line. Seeing my interest, he went on and on in the same vein and I got sucked in to his enthusiasm while he managed to place that spool of wire into my hand. We were bent over that wire for a magic few minutes and somehow, by the time we bought it and left the store, we had decided to sell the Golden Hind and build a big Wharram. The wire cost a little over one pound...
We bought study plans for the Tiki 38 (too small), the Tehini (too big) and the Pahi 42 (did not excite us). Finally we phoned up the Wharrams and asked for plans for a Tiki 42 to be drawn up. They were sailing their own boat in Fiji at the time so communication was via their office back in Britain and the letter that finally replied to us stated that, "the design for your Tiki 46 is well along and a sketch will be sent soon". Four feet longer than we had planned! A LOT bigger! When they were back in Britain, we visited the Wharrams and they impressed us as being lively and happy people, capable sailors, and dedicated to making boat building and cruising safe and affordable for practical minded people.
A few weeks later, the first page of building plans arrived for the building of the lower hulls. We had no building shed yet, but the Golden Hind had sold and we had money for ply, so we started lofting the keels and bulkheads right there in the saloon of the canal boat. This was 60 feet long, but only 6 foot 10 inches wide, so it was not an easy fit. The building shed we had hoped to rent fell through, and we almost gave up, but finally we found a drafty barn on a pig farm near Bath right by the canal. With the pieces for the lower hulls stacked inside the canal boat, we went through six locks and moored by the bridge at Hilperton Marsh Farm. For the next five years we lived there and worked for all but the coldest winter months building what I always referred to as "the God Damned Boat!"
I must be truthful and admit that I do not enjoy boat building. I have asthma so dust is not good for me, I have arthritis so getting scrunched up to work in the little corners is not good for me, and I have a visual problem so measuring tapes are not good for me. I have weak hands and am non mechanical. And I MUCH PREFER SAILING! Nev, on the other hand, loves boatbuilding. But we worked hard together for 10 hours a day and I came home to cook supper while Nev made plans for the next jobs to be done. We struggled with his epoxy allergy, my health issues, the cold and windy shed, and sore muscles. The financial pressures terrified me.
Then we discovered that the top of the line marine plywood we had used was all defective and we had to cut up and throw away our lower hulls and start over. That was a horrible time. Ruthie Wharram was most sympathetic but challenging over the phone as she helped us over the hump of our disappointment. I was the main negotiator with the timber company getting compensation, but we suffered delay and heartbreak. I can't begin to tell you how it felt.
After two and a half years, we brought our finished hulls out of the barn and continued building outside behind the farm. To the squeals and grunts of newborn baby piglets in the farrowing house beside us, we continued sanding, sawing, drilling, gluing, and building all the rest of the boat under tarps that leaked and in the wind and weather. I remember my joy when we finally had her decked, hulls tied together, all the pieces in place, and Nev had the electrics up, plumbing going, and we filled the huge floation chambers with empty screw top plastic coke and milk bottles that our friends saved for us. Thousands of bottles! Then we painted, bought the engines, the GPS, the radar, radio, and all those bits and pieces we could not make, and finally made arrangements to move the boat to the water.
Love, Ann and Nev
Peace IV Launch
We were about 40 miles from Bristol, so a large crane came and we loaded one hull on one truck, one on the other truck, and all the bits and pieces went on the third load. This parade went through a route selected to be high enough for clearance and free of weak bridges etc. The hulls were lovely as they wound around the curved country roads seemingly dancing with each other through the green English countryside. Nev and I followed in our car spellbound and knowing that our time on the farm was over, our canal boat sold, and our land life at an end. We were going back to sea in a matter of weeks.
We reassembled Peace IV in the late summer of 2002 at the Bristol Marina near where Nev and I had met 11 years before. Tensions were high because it was a big project, the yard bills were lots higher than what we had paid on the farm, and people kept wanting to chat and have us come home for dinner etc. We loved all these people, but chatting is not building and we needed to build and get outta there.
Young Mike had helped us after school each day on the farm. He was nine when we started, but was a handsome teenager then and he was a tremendous help. All the friends we had made during the build came by and we could not stop work properly and enjoy their visits. I have never felt so torn!
Finally the day of the launch came, we were lowered down the slipway on a trolley and somewhat awkwardly slipped into the water and tied alongside the dock. At that point we started meeting water people more than land people and my joy started spiraling up and up. Peace IV was a comfortable home, took the ferry wakes in stride, provided a fine party platform, and attracted everybody's attention.
We tested the motors, got the masts in place, struggled with setting up the sails and sheet leads etc, and prepared for sea. We had no idea what to expect and we had a bad case of "new boatitis" where we were terrified of damaging our own boat or crashing somebody else's boat! I phoned up our insurance company and learned, to my horror, that there was a provision in our policy that we must leave British waters before Sept 1 or else wait until spring. The tools were scattered all over the boat, urgent work was yet to be done, we had not done any sea trials, and it was just an impossible situation. We decided to go for it though, so I packed the galley with food, we invited two strong young men to join us since we knew we would need help on this unprepared boat, and we arranged to leave Bristol.
There is an amazing height of tide there - well over 50 feet. So there is a deep lock in and out of the harbour and we saw all our friends along the wall waving and taking photographs, handing us packages of books, food, etc. Tears were in our eyes, but when the lock gates opened, Peace IV entered the river headed for sea and Nev and I invited young Mike to take the helm. He had not expected that and we enjoyed watching him concentrate on his task while the rest of us figured out how to set and trim the sails. Everything was awkward. I was taking chisels and power drills out of the cockpit coamings and down into the galley. There was sawdust and shavings everywhere, screws were lying on the floor, and we had lots of spare timber, bits of spare rigging and piles of belongings that had not been stowed properly. We were totally unready for sea.
Nev's Mum had never seen the boat, so we headed first to Swansea. One of the crew was navigating and messed it up so we did not arrive in one tide, but slunk in around 5am exhausted. I rushed up to Nev's Mum's and bundled her into a wheelchair and pushed her down to the dock. She was amazed. She had watched Nev at his late wife's bedside during the decades of MS and with his multiply handicapped sons, etc. She bravely insisted we go sea and insisted she was fine with her many caregivers. What a brave and loving mother! Eileen.
That morning we sailed to Milford Haven and again the navigation got messed up by the crew member who simply could not believe the tides or appreciate Nev's life long experience in those waters and follow his request for a particular route. The rain and wind were horrific, and we again arrived much later than necessary having sailed through the night. We had suffered a structural failure too (now corrected in the plans), but Nev and I managed to make adequate though temporary repairs. Then we set off across Biscay on our third day of "sea trials".
The late afternoon wind was pleasant, the sunset was a celebration of golden light to starboard while the full moon came up all silver to port. A pair of dolphins swam by in the peach colored water. We had all sail up and the two crew kindly left us on deck alone cuddling and enjoying the splendor of it all. I had made a few last phone calls to Wharrams, friends, etc, but now we were out of sight of land. We were cruisers again.
That night Neville slipped in the sawdust and landed with his knee right onto an upturned screw which he had to unscrew from his kneecap. The resulting pain and swelling caused him to black out at the time and once again during the trip to Spain. We could not make landfall in La Coruna because he could not tolerate the high seas going in that direction, so we chose a more comfortable slant on them and went in at Camarinas. We had stopped there in Peace II back in 1993, so I remembered it well and we anchored just after dawn. Our crew went home, and Nev healed slowly. After two weeks, he was able to get into the dinghy, and a week later, we slowly worked our way south.
When we got to Cascais, in Portugal, we
stocked up and invited one of the earlier crew to join us along with another
friend who is an excellent sailor for the passage to Madiera. The trip went
well until a second structural problem came to light about half way there.
The Wharrams have changed the design so that
problem is now solved, but we nearly lost our foremast that day. The guys
did a great job and even used a suggestion or two from me to get it back in
place with a jury rig.
When we arrived in Porto Santo, Madiera,
Nev was desperate for some hardwood to fix the problem, but there are no
trees there - not even a bush! But a man came running down the dock waving
and shouting "Oh what a pretty new Wharram! Did you build her? Do you need
some hardwood? I have lots and it is free!" We could hardly believe it, but
he brought a trunk full and we made a good job of
the repair. It is still there.
Love, Ann and Nev
Peace IV Trans Atlantic
When our crew left us in Porto Santo, Madiera, we decided we had enough experience with the boat so it was safe to continue without crew offshore and Nev had made almost a full recovery. So we headed out with what I thought was an
ok weather forecast. I do not speak Portuguese, so I thought it was a Beaufort Force 5 which is about 25 knots of wind and Peace IV does well in those conditions. Unfortunately, I was mistaken and it really was Force 10. Hurricanes are Force 12, so it was a big mistake.We were about half way when the storm hit and we were twice lucky. First of all, on my last phone conversation with Ruth Wharram, she told me that one storm tactic we could use was to take down all the sails and heave to under bare poles and "twiddle with the rudder" until the boat was happy. That worked just fine in the conditions which a nearby sea buoy measured as waves over 30 feet and winds over 55 knots. The other lucky thing was that I had an ocean chart of the area. Normally, for an offshore passage, I just used a weather chart with the little wind roses, currents, etc. These are cheap and are packed with information relevant for each month of the year. I was making my third trans Atlantic, had several passages over 500 miles, and had used this method of navigation happily for all of them. But I got out that ocean chart and saw, to my horror, that we were near a sea mount whose peak was only 24 feet below the surface. We were upwind of it and in the troughs between those 30 foot waves, it might have dry land! So I did some quick and extremely careful charting and we twiddled with that rudder until we were well past the sea mount and then, Ruthie, we were really happy! We were sea sick, but we sure were happy.
The boat was amazing in those wild conditions. We spent three days in the little deck house resting, drinking water and nibbling crackers, and each day we inspected the boat. There was no damage. After the first day, we just had some
nausea and we were cold. But the lashings stayed tight, the rudders were fine, the masts were ok, and THERE WAS NO POUNDING! Catamarans can have waves pounding under the bridge deck, but Wharram's are high between the hulls, and the slats allow wind and water to go through so there is no tendency to overturn either. We felt perfectly safe though I worried about what might be getting tossed about down in the hulls. I thought of the two dozen eggs on a high shelf with only a 1 inch fiddle rail... omelets? I finally went below on the third day and discovered only one cereal box had tipped over near the galley sink but none had spilled out. That was the total damage! In the other hull, a plastic tray had tipped forward. I tipped it back with my finger. Amazing!We were glad to be able to go down and wash up, cook a proper meal, and rest a while. And then we unrolled three rolls of the jib, unlashed the rudder, and did 8 knots down wind to Porto Naos in the Canaries. Our friend saw the two raked masts from behind the harbor wall and recognized the boat. He came out in his dinghy to welcome us in and show us a good spot to drop anchor. After a good night's sleep, we invited the whole anchorage over for a party, sing song, and potluck. It was a good time, but not to the same standard as that singing potluck we had on deck in Bayona. That has yet to be beat, but we have good fun trying.
After a few weeks, we headed out on Christmas morning to cross the Atlantic. We had no money for any other presents, so the ocean seemed like present enough. The wind went light and we drifted for three days. The seas were so flat, we saw the constellations reflected perfectly in the water. Not a ripple and not any swell either. You could even see each star rise out of the sea because there was absolutely no haze at all. Finally the wind came and we went fast and joyfully and all was well until I fell down into the cockpit. My left shoulder dislocated with blazing pain deep
in the joint. I could not catch my breath it hurt so much but I knew we were far from a doctor and I could not stand that level of pain. Without thinking much about it, I just knew I had only one chance to fix it and I had to do it myself. I had no way of finding words to tell Nev what I needed him to do. I just hauled back with my right arm and WHAM, I hit that shoulder as hard as I could while wiggling down and sidewise to try to snap it back in place. It hurt twice as much during that manouver, but it worked. Nev had heard me fall, and about the time he crawled out of the deck house to see what had happened, I was just sitting on the cockpit floor still unable to talk, and wanting him to do range of motion on my left arm, but I could not talk. So he held my arm steady and talked to me quietly and helped me stay conscious until I felt better.
Three hours later, I was not able to sleep, but I convinced Nev to sleep and while he was snoring, I discovered that I could reef, furl, and gybe the jib unassisted, so I put Peace IV on a course to cross the Atlantic. I knew, as a nurse, that rest is the only treatment for a realigned dislocated shoulder and the boat would be steady enough and safe enough if we took it easy. Under jib alone we averaged 5 knots for the rest of the passage. One interesting thing about our boat is a particular squeak we get in high seas in the aft starboard hull. It seems to attract whales and on that trip, we
had several curious whales come close to inspect that corner of the boat and also the opposite corner where the sound gets transmitted via the crossbeam. They always came to the squeak first and then under the boat for a closer look,
then ahead of us, and finally back for another look. This went on and on and worried us at first, but they were extremely careful (although very big) and never harmed us at all. Whales sure are interesting. Our many whales acted a whole lot like dolphins and one time I thought we should maybe raise more sail and get away because their size worried me, but then one shot past us doing about 30 knots, so I gave up on that idea. We tried turning on the depth sounder, playing music, not playing music, talking to them, etc. I think they were simply curious. That squeak is caused by an error we made in measuring that beam trough. I am glad we did. I like whales and they apparently like Peace IV.
Love, Ann and Nev
Peace IV Arrival in Martinique
When completing a long passage, the final day or two can be a time of emotional turmoil. On the one hand, it is nice to think of seeing friends, having fresh fruit and vegetables, maybe a cold beer, etc. But on the other hand, it is sad to leave the ocean where the air, water, and sky are all clean and natural. But I usually find that wanting a full night's sleep wins me over in the end, so I am eager to get the anchor and my head down.As we approached Martinique, I wanted to double check my navigation just in case the little electrons in the GPS had gotten lost along the way. I was not eager to dig out the sextant and get all involved with all that, so I pulled out a clear sheet of hard plastic and my protractor. The chart said Martinique was at 15 degrees North Latitude, so I drew a black line along the bottom of the sheet and another line at a 15 degree angle. Then I went out and held one corner of the sheet very carefully near my eye and pointed the bottom line at the horizon and tried to point the top line at the north star which was brightly visible on our last night at sea. That checked out ok, and I heard the VHF radio say Radio Martinique and blah blah blah in French. I checked the characteristics of the brightest lighthouse, and wrote it down for Nev, and then went "to sleep" in the deck house where he could call me if needed.
This was the culmination of a dream come true for him. After decades of personal tragedy, he had managed to build a big catamaran and sail it across the ocean. His boat building was made more difficult by severe allergy to the epoxy, financial constraints, physically difficult building conditions, and my own dislike of building as compared to actually sailing a boat. It was mostly Nev's interest in doing the build that caused us to go that way, so I wanted him to savor the moment undisturbed. I figured we were pretty close. Finally I heard his wrist watch make the thin little whine indicating that he had pressed the light button to read the numbers. I have excellent and almost unbelievable hearing. He did this several times and I guessed he had seen the lighthouse. I heard him take several deep breaths, and finally blow his nose when the emotions hit him unexpectedly deep and there was even a little manly sniffle or two. After about half an hour, I went out and he showed me the light flashing and we got organized for the landfall after a couple of darnn good kisses. By the time we reached Diamond Rock the rain squall had reached us and we were totally drenched, but quite happy when we anchored in Anse D'Arlet.
I phoned Bertran and Marie Helene Fercot (building a Tiki 46 in France and a Tiki 30 in Martinique) and they agreed to come down. They had visited us several times with their children while we were building back in Britain, so they understood what we had been through. They brought baskets and coolers full of food and the whole family came. Then they actually swam out to the boat while I drove the overloaded dinghy to Peace IV, and we had a fine weekend of swimming, music, dancing, and "talking tiki". I discovered that the best therapy for my shoulder was to gently tread water between the hulls, so I had several sessions of doing that each day and later swam through the anchorage to gain strength. We took the Fercots for a sail full of laughter, the parents cuddling down in the bow netting. Finally we headed north through the island chain and arrived in the Virgin Islands.
My ex is still a good friend and the two guys sympathize with each other about living with me (!), so it can be amusing the way they tease me gently and gang up on me sometimes. John had come each summer during the building years to sand, mix glue, clean up the shed, etc. So he deserved a good, long sail and he got one. He stayed aboard for the offshore passage from the Virgins to Abacos, Bahamas, and also the whole way up the US East Coast. Pretty good for a guy 86 years old at the time! John stood watches but one of us was right there sleeping in the deck house nearby and he was careful not to over extend his energy level. He made several good suggestions for sailing with elderly or handicapped folks and we have put most of them in place. When we came through The Race in Long Island Sound, we were getting pretty close to my home waters of Rhode Island. I could not bring myself to anchor. I pushed the guys to let us continue even though the wind was getting up a bit. Then, oh what fun, a big race boat appeared going towards Newport with lots of strong young crew. It was Peace IV's favorite point of sail - off the quarter - and we had all up and driving along merrily. Then spray started to splash on the foredeck in the gusts, and finally we were thundering along getting ahead of the other boat even though he had a full, racing spinnaker up! Nev was mumbling and grumbling, but I kept us going until the other guy blinked first and doused that spinnaker, and finally Nev took down our foremain sail. "Bout time!". We continued ahead and gradually the wind reduced and we turned north up the West Passage of Narragansett Bay while the other boat continued on to the East Passage and Newport.
All during the build I had imagined sailing back to Rhode Island and wondered what the weather would be like. Well, it was perfect, I am happy to say, and we sailed through the late afternoon and I did not really need to consult the chart because it was all still familiar. It really was a beautiful, gentle evening and we only had to turn on the engines at the end. The anchor went down and caught the third try and some friends came by unexpectedly to welcome us. I was astonished how many friends remembered us. But when I saw my kids and the grandchildren it brought me straight into the girlie tears and giggles. Dorothy is right in the Wizard of Oz... there's no place like home. We have sailed north and south with the seasons ever since then and worked on the boat making things easier each year while in Rhode Island but spent each winter in the Bahamas. We now have booms for both sails, a bimini awning, and plans to experiment with the sails trying to make her easier to single-hand. Thousands of small changes have made living aboard more comfortable, but we still have no heat or refrigerator, oven, or cushions in the galley. Family needs have had to take priority lately, but sailing mostly offshore north and south each year is getting easier over time. She's a great boat.
All the Best, Ann and Nev