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| Captain Tony looks quietly confident |
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| Welding weapons |
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| The Boat Buoys at the end of the build |
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| The fearsome battering ram |
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| Test-day tinkering: trying to get the third engine started |
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| Is it a destroyer? Or is it a floating children's play area? |
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| Someone is shirking inside the tower. Could be a mistake. |
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| The 'monstrous medieval battle-tank' steams ahead |
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The Boat Buoys' diary
Rumours were flying that this time around we were up against the nicest team in the series – ourselves included! When we got into the bar it was just as we'd been told. The Pickers had such genuine smiles and warmth that we knew it was going to be a cracking round. It was a long night and not a lot of sleep was had by anyone, but what the heck – it was a Scrapheap final. Adrenalin would do. There was definitely a buzz from the crew.
Build day
Down to the totem pole for the great announcement. Robert and Lisa were grinning as ever, but perhaps slightly more than usual. Then they were off, rapid fire – by heck, they want us to make destroyers!
Iain was suggesting we think big, real big. Last time round we set a Scrapheap record – the heaviest. Could we now make the biggest?
If we could make it big there was going to be a problem of mobility, so we decided to use a moving battering ram. That way we could have a large bulk of craft to do any wall-breaking and yet have a rapid-strike system when it came time to sinking the galleon.
Toppling the tower was more novel. Iain seemed to think our best weapon would be a telegraph pole acting as a kind of pickaxe.
Big commitment
From the build area we could see some old metal tanks. Having got them in, with help from the Barley Pickers, we all felt we could make them work and thus also commit to a 'big' design.
We found a collection of old outboards and a little battered work-boat covered in algae and full of holes. However it did have a reasonable-sized motor on the back. Johnny reckoned he could lick it into shape. If we could get the outboards going we'd have room for three engines: a biggy in the middle and two small ones on either side. All three could then be run in forward or reverse independently, so, along with the steering angles, we should be pretty manoeuvrable despite our massive size.
Then there were a whole load of scaffold tubes and a 9-inch steel plate pipe to make up the battering ram. Toby and Iain got the hull together, Johnny sorted the propulsion and I (Monty) did the fore-end weaponry.
Kissing KIS goodbye
Johnny got the main engine mounted and steering set up but also the two side engines. They were linked together on a different steering bar so could be swivelled independently of the main one. Added to all this he'd rigged three throttles, so the great motto of Scrapheap – 'keep it simple' – had started to go clear over the horizon. This was in fact to prove our downfall. We were getting too clever.
We were to have a battering ship, a battering ram, two pincers and a winch. I'd stuck the pincers on the front to enable us to hold the galleon still when we were trying to batter it. The trouble with all this kit was knowing which bit to use when.
Just when we thought it was all coming together with time in hand Toby suddenly roars off into the dark to try and struggle back with a telegraph pole. It was too much, even for a hero, and we all trooped out to bring it in. After a quick chat we worked out how to make it work and since there was time in hand and it would look great, we started racing it on. Why? So we could do the pickaxe too, but off the side, swivelling at head height, and probably just as a batterer.
Test day
All was sweet until it came to fire up for the race. Could we get the right-hand engine running? To rub it in the Barley Boys thought they'd run their monster up. Impressive. Ironic really: we know all about boats, yet end up making a monstrous medieval battle-tank, whilst they are a bunch of farmers that make this really sweet little darting boat with a nasty sting on its snout.
Finally our third engine fired up, coughing as ever, but running all the same. Johnny and Toby were on the controls; Iain and I were preparing to man the weapons. The stern mooring line was creaking under the strain and all eyes waited for Lisa's flag; it came down and we were off.
Jeepers we were fast – more so than expected with our particularly inefficient front – and I moved forward as the wall was looming quickly. Having finally got it bang on line Johnny went for a final big surge to make sure. We smacked it a right good'un, the wall gave way with a splintering crunch and we blew through it, wood skittering off everywhere – except the bloody great piece that got jammed over our port bow. If our blunt horseshoe front wasn't inefficient before, it certainly was now – the wedged piece of wall was heaving a huge great slab of water along with us.
I raced forward and hung over trying to kick the wall away as we raced around the island. It wasn't keen to go and by the time I had, the Barleys had managed to sneak – and I mean sneak – under their wall and come skipping along after us, at one point only just escaping a capsize.
Trouble at the tower
With the wall piece now off the bow we charged round the island to knock over our tower, which is where we really got it wrong. What we should have done was go hard at it and knock it over with anything, most likely a carefully aimed telegraph pole. Instead Toby was dead keen to lasso it from the leeward side of the anchor and then pull it up over the anchor position, with our winch, if necessary. So we circled round the tower, losing precious time. They got the hook on and proceeded just to rip the tower's top off, leaving the bulk standing. then they started again. I was roaring about just pushing it over with the telegraph pole I was holding at the right height.
Whilst all this carry-on raged the Barleys had gone and struck gold. When they flew into their tower, hoping to spike the barrels and cause them to sink or lift right up, they actually managed to skid the barrels across the bottom of the tower, so all they had to do was back away and the whole lot toppled.
For us, however, it wasn't giving up nearly so easily. Johnny did finally go with my ranting and drive full ahead; Toby stopped his faffing and clambered onto the tower base to pull too, and over she went – but about a minute later than we needed, so it was time to catch up.
The sinking zone
By the time we reached the sinking zone the Barleys had got their front spike well and truly stuck in their galleon's hull and were trying desperately to get it out to have another go. We hit ours hard and immediately began swinging our sharp-tipped battering ram viciously into the side of the boat. Third strike and we ripped a massive hole through it, but it was then being held up by us and wasn't sinking fast enough.
Johnny backed us off and she started to list so we went in for another strike. The Barleys had got the flag from the officials – theirs was sunk. Then ours was too. We backed away from it and swung for the island only to see Andy skipping gleefully up the beach to claim the trophy.
Why did our team faff around so? Why didn't they just go with my idea and bosh the tower over? And how come the Barleys were so lucky with their tower collapse? Ah, we're always wise with hindsight and maybe I'd just been lucky to have guessed the better way to do it.
Even though I felt we'd been beaten by a huge slice of luck for the Barleys, they were a fantastic team to lose to. They were great, they were gracious winners, and we're all lucky sometimes. Just not us this time.
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