Green smack and tender in mud
Mike Coffin of Sea Pigeon kindly sent me this image two years ago, well before I started the ‘love of a boat’ series.
It complements the series perfectly.
For the origins of the series, here
The Sea
On sailing a Folksong – Mike Burns and ‘Fram’
Fram
Mike has kindly written the following about Fram:
~~~
“I thought I might just add to this email the raison d’etre for my boat being called Fram
so Episode 1
Back in around 1965 at the age of approx 23 I signed on as a marine geophysicist with the British Antarctic Survey. I had some Scottish rock & snow climbing experience but only a couple of races sailed as crew on an Enterprise at Kippford in Scotland. I had however as a Grammar School pupil in Sunderland attended the local Cathedral at some memoration ceremony to RF Scott
Three years under canvas as a dog driving scientist down south was certainly “justifiable training for the youth of GB” as once stated by Fuchs the then Director of BAS.
I completed my polar exploration stint & returned to UK, Birmingham University, to work on & eventually publish my scientific findings.
No chance of a PhD but I did get a Polar Medal and eventually a mountain named after me. (This turned out to be more of a ridge than a mountain) very aptly named “Burns Bluff”
The thought of what to do next was challenging, so I married, we canoed in two slalom canoes around north cape in northern Norway on our honeymoon and then thought that the next best thing to dog sledging would be sailing a boat travelling at around 4/5 mph with every day changing plans as to the destination according to weather etc.
Having read much of Antarctic history I grew to favour the Norwegian approach as opposed to that of Scott, It did not take long to find that Nansen had a much more erudite approach to travel and hence the Norwegian word forward or “Fram” was obvious. Nansen’s nautical travails were also far more challenging than those of Scott
In addition as a tight fisted half Scotsman four letters certainly fitted the frugality constraints which resulted in “FRAM”
perhaps Episode 2 might follow in a day or a week or perhaps a month or so as to how I found the boat in Doncaster !”
~~~
I look forward to Episode 2 Mike. By the way, what were you studying?
And is Fram still for sale?
~~~
Boat names can be tricky. I called briefly into Plymouth Yacht Haven the other day, and, as I passed a very large yacht, a young woman looked down and asked if I had a green and a red mistress too. There were several answers to that – all of which came too late!
For love of a boat – Trechandiri follow-up
AA comments on my Trechandiri post:
“The word Trehandiri (Τρεχαντήρι) is loosely translated to ‘A fast boat’ which is kind of obvious for the first picture (a long and narrow boat that does not upset the water around it too much, a bit like the rowing skiffs) but not so obvious for the boats in the second picture that look more stable (wide) than fast. So perhaps they were termed ‘Fast Boats’ because they were also powered by motors.
The designers had to strike this balance between speed / stability / useful volume (after all you still need space for all the fish harvest 😀 )…These dimensions and other design elements were defined (or rather homed in) without mathematical models and simulations in different sea states at expensive experimental facilities.
I think that this is a good reason to preserve the boats and relevant pieces of the art from that era…(and of course not only the Greek fishing boats).”
~~~
I think AA has got it exactly right – “These dimensions and other design elements were defined without mathematical models and simulations in different sea states at expensive experimental facilities.”
Boat-building was an art before it became a science.
Men looked at the sea, applied their common sense and, using tools that they created themselves, turned local materials into craft that had value and beauty by virtue of their function.
Did they get it right first time? Probably not. But they learnt by doing. Shapes and designs evolved . . . and kept on evolving, handed on from generation to generation.
It is the vessels that are the results of this process that are being lost today. (Yes, there are still people building in this way in some parts of the world. But they are getting fewer and fewer).
Science has created a different process. The generation thing is not necessary any more – at least in the sense of person-to-person. It is more technical advance-to-technical advance. This may be spelt out in days or weeks rather than years. For example, every year new advances in technology create new products which lead to new fashions that can be seen everywhere. This year seems to be the year of the small RIB, the sit-on kayak and some very fast boats – as well as touch-screen monitors and AIS sets.
That’s great. As someone, who taps at a keyboard, posting yet more words on the internet, I like technology – and use it more and more.
But, in posting the ‘love of a boat’ series, I have noticed how technology is occluding this one important aspect of our lives: our respect for the deeper layer of human endeavour born of past generations, that lives in the present and will hopefully be passed on to our children.
It isn’t that we do not have the ability to be creative nor the willingness to gain skills, nor even that we do not care, it is that we are being hurried along a certain path that requires us to follow rather than to lead. We barely have time to assimilate one advance before the next one leapfrogs it. The pace of change is increasing.
The price of this is in many, many small losses that individually can be dismissed but in the end will add up to an impoverished society.
The demise of the ‘traditional’ craft is one of these losses.
This:
becomes this:
by doing nothing.
When AA says “I think this is a good reason to preserve the boats and relevant pieces of the art from that era”, I absolutely agree with him.
For love of a boat – Trechandiri
Paleochora, Crete 2009
I have started reading Mike Smylie’s ‘Fishing the European Coast’.
In 153 pages, he has written a comprehensive series of notes and reminiscences on the very wide range of boats found around the European coast.
It is the perfect overview for someone who enjoys differences in boat design from port to port, from local conditions to local conditions, from culture to culture . . . as well as for someone interested in the evolution of craft.
For example, over the past year, I have posted many images of Greek trechandiri. Smylie writes:
“The trechandiri is the workhorse of Greek coastal fishers . . . . . The advent of motors in the 1920s simply produced a fatter, fuller body section, while in profile they were unchanged. Once the rig was removed, superstructures were added! They are ubiquitous throughout the Aegean – that sea of thousands of islands, and have one thing in common, a length/beam/depth ratio of round about 9:3:1. There are two schools of thought on their origins. Some say they developed from a particular type of caique, first built in Hydra in 1658, while others suggest they evolved from the trabaccolo, a type of sailing vessel used for trading in the Adriatic.”
Agios Nikolaos, The Mani, Greece 2007
Length/beam/depth ratios have taken on a new meaning :-).
Mr Smylie adds to what I learnt from the National Maritime Museum in Falmouth earlier in the year and from Denham’s book on ‘The Aegean’.
And the images have taken on a new meaning too.
For the origins of this image series, here
For love of a boat – 40+ Fishing Boat Association
Last Thursday’s (6th August) edition of the Western Morning News had a centre spread entitled “One man’s love affair with old wooden boats.’
It featured historian Mike Smylie, whose book “Fishing Boats of Cornwall” has just been published by The History Press.
In the article he is quoted:
‘”For this book on Cornish fishing, I spent a lot of time in Newlyn talking to local fishermen and the people involved with the local fishing industry . . .
“Something which particularly saddens me is seeing boats being chopped up – there’s a photograph in the book of a perfectly good wooden fishing boat being demolished in Newlyn in 1998 with a JCB. This happened because of the European Union fishing policy which encouraged fisherman to take boats out of fishing and scrap them.”
In 1995, Mike co-founded the 40+ Fishing Boat Association to fight that policy and help preserve old, decommissioned fishing boats.’
I am ashamed to say I have not heard of this association up to now. However, those of you who have been following the For Love of a Boat series will know this is precisely my own view on what has happened as a result of the European policy. Captain George’s video shows a Greek fishing boat demolished in just the way mentioned above for exactly the same reason.
Looking at the 40+ website I have not discovered how to join the Association yet, but will pursue it and let you know how I get on. The link to the equivalent Greek website is here. (To translate into your own language, I find Babel Fish works reasonably well).
I have ordered Mr Smylie’s “Fishing the European Coast” and look forward to reading it. The Cornish book will come later.
In the meantime, I wish Mike Smylie well – and encourage him to keep up his good work.
On sailing a Folksong – a spring tide sail
We sailed round to The Yealm thinking, if we got it right, we could have lunch in Newton Ferrers. I wasn’t familiar with the river and certainly not sure about the tide – a high spring tide which would still be ebbing when we got there. The wind was from the west.
Leaving Oreston just after the top of the tide, we made fast progress even though the wind was light.
There is a wind level – low Force 2-3, when Blue Mistress‘ weight and shape tell against her when compared with less heavily keeled boats. A couple of yachts passed us in style.
We enjoyed the sail, boiling the kettle and making tea, talking of this and that.
However, rounding Great Mew Stone with plenty to spare, we had to concentrate as we headed into Wembury Bay on a dead run, the genoa goose-winged to port.
There seemed to be more wind here and we occasionally surfed as the sea and wind piled up against the tide pouring out of the Yealm. The sun reflected off the tops of the waves and boats not too far away disappeared hull down, to rise immediately on the next wave. Several boats were motoring out from the river, lifting their bows and showing their keels, as they worked into wind and sea.
We followed a boat ahead who seemed to know where she was going and watched as the foresail came down and she disappeared into the narrow entrance.
Our turn next. Not wanting to risk any sail inside, we lowered the genoa first, Charles negotiating the tricky task of keeping it inboard. Then into the wind, momentary chaos and the main came down. Then, boom secured with mainsheet, a few minutes of grabbing, rolling, hurriedly tying flogging canvas – a less than neat job (below) but good enough on a moving deck.
We motored past the bar, watching the tide flow round the two port hand buoys before following the leading marks across the river, then through the many moorings to the first pontoon.
Choosing the outside of the pontoon to avoid the possibility of rafting, we accepted the weight of the tide would hold us against it. I hadn’t bargained for just how strongly it would hold us. The direction and force of the outgoing tide can be seen in the image below. Mooring lines were almost superfluous. Getting off would obviously be interesting – but first thing first – lunch.
It was good too -:)
It was about 1400 when we got back. Low tide at The Yealm entrance was 1500, giving 0.8 m clearance above LAT, enough for us if we kept to the narrow channel.
As expected. the weight of the tide was still holding the boat against the pontoon, but it had slackened enough for the two of us to push the boat off and move our large round fender to the starboard quarter. Removing the mooring lines had no effect. A combination of heavy push with boat hook at the bow and gentle astern on the engine with the tiller to port, brought her quarter onto the fender and her bow away. Briskly forward on the throttle and we left the pontoon headed upstream looking for space to turn – briskly because there is a certain point when the tide will catch her and she turns downstream whatever I do – in this case it would have been into the cruiser moored astern of us.
The ferryman had mentioned that they would be playing cricket on the sand bar today to celebrate the particularly low spring tide. The short entrance to the river is very narrow, a few yards wide, rocks on one side, sand bar on the other. The light surf was clearly visible on the exposed sand bar as we crossed the river towards it.
Yealm sand bar – Great Mew Stone behind
There were yachts moored in Cellar Bay as well as many dinghies on the beach. People were on the sand bar – the whole area a hive of activity.
Yealm sand bar – exposed at low spring tide
A few minutes later we were through the entrance into an altogether different sea to the one we had met in the morning.
Yealm entrance – the extreme right hand yacht is in the channel.
Sailing close-hauled across the Bay towards Great Mew Stone, we noted the exposed Inner and Outer Slimers, tacked across to clear the Western Ebb Rocks, tacked again before we reached them, cleared Mewstone Ledge and eased away onto a close reach across to Cawsand. Then home on the incoming tide.
It was one of those days. No broken records, no prizes, just a great day sailing.
On Steeple Point – two images from Duckpool
Two images from Duckpool.
The first taken last Christmas – the pebble ridge in winter:
This one taken in heavy rain at 1045 this morning – the pebble ridge in summer:
Lands End to St Davids Head including the Bristol Channel
Strong winds are forecast
Inshore waters forecast
24 hour forecast: 1900 Fri 17 Jul 1900 Sat 18 Jul
Wind Westerly or northwesterly becoming cyclonic, 5 to 7, decreasing 4 in north.
Sea state Moderate or rough, but slight in east.
Weather Rain or showers.
Visibility Moderate or good, occasionally poor.
This is this evening’s inshore waters forecast. It was right for the whole day.
The heavy rain has swollen the river and once again altered the shape of the pebble ridge, the same ridge that presented such a peaceful scene last December.
This is the weather that makes this coast exciting and invigorating.
The only problem is that this is July. Why can’t it wait until the Autumn?
For love of a boat – keep them alive
Last week, I admired this boat in Padstow, Cornwall
and early last month, this one in Finikas, Crete
They are about the same size, both registered fishing boats.
One is built for fishing inshore in the Atlantic Ocean off Cornwall. the other in the Lybian Sea off Southwestern Crete.
To look at, these are totally different boats – but there are many similarities – similarities that come from their function and the work that is put into building, maintaining and running them.
Without a specific function and the people who use them, working boats become mere objects to look at (albeit very fine objects). Add in the people who built them and run them and they take on a life.
Someone decided to build them, lay the keel, add molds, timbers, planking, decking, an engine. Someone finished them. Perhaps the same people, perhaps someone else now takes them to sea, fishes from them, maintains them. These people have families, friends, fellow fisherman, customers – a community of people who know the boats.
Well, they have one other thing in common, they won’t last for ever. As time goes on, and fishing becomes more regulated, and plastic and metal construction finally takes over from wood, and universal design takes over from local design, and costs become more and more prohibitive, so these boats and those like them will disappear into history. Maybe this generation. And the skills that come with them will likely dissolve or resolve into some other field.
Celebrate them now, while you see them working.
Record them and share them
. . . and admire those who are working to keep those skills alive.
Try the boatbuildingacademy site – here, or Charlie Hussey’s marinecarpentry site – here.
Enjoy Mark Harris’ video on building the Isolde, then go to his woodenboatbuilding site – here.
On sailing a Folksong – Lazy Jacks
Lyme Regis to Lands End including the Isles of Scilly
Outlook: Southwesterly 3 or 4 becoming variable 3, then southeasterly 4 or 5 later in west. Smooth or slight. Mainly fair. Moderate or good.
I think I’ve solved my lazy jacks problem.
I was pleased they were already fitted when I bought Blue Mistress.
They do have certain advantages:
- when lowering the main, the sail folds relatively neatly onto the boom.
- this is good when single-handed or with inexperienced crew. I can drop the sail without having to grab hold and furl it immediately.
- also, when slab reefing, the loose sail is contained and need not necessarily be controlled with reef points.
But they have disadvantages too:
- the primary one being that, with a battened mainsail, the first and often the second batten get caught during hoisting, especially in a hatful of wind. This means lowering the sail slightly to free it and start again. Single-handed this is very frustrating.
- also, they have to be loosened after the sail is set and the topping lift released to a) allow the leach to take the weight of the sail and b) to release the full belly of the sail.
- this means leaving the helm, going forward and making adjustments both sides of the mast.
- and this means that they are loose and untidy during sailing.
To solve the problem, I have previously:
- juggled with the wind and the heading of the boat, using the auto pilot to keep her head to wind. This gave only limited success. It kept the boat head to wind, but required more speed to do so, which, in turn increased the apparent wind, which, in turn, increased the sail flapping.
- turned to head into the wind, to combine it with the boat almost stopped. Limited success again, needing a very swift hoist. If this failed, the half raised sail would allow the head to fall off the wind and jam the sail part way up. Back to the engine.
- shortened the lazy jack lines, which had the effect of bringing the the blocks forward as well as lowering their position. The idea here was to allow the battens to clear the confines of the lines lower in the hoist. This works better in light winds, but not in heavy ones.
The week before last I struggled for ten minutes or so to get the sail up and finally decided that I would get rid of them altogether if I couldn’t come up with a better solution.
I spent Friday night on the boat again and wanted to rig a stretch of canvas over the boom to make a tent over the companion way. The lazy jacks were in the way, so I loosened them off and led them to the mast, hooking them around their respective cleats before tightening the lines again – instant solution to the tent problem and instant solution to the sail raising problem.
In the clip above you can just make out the port lazy jack lines leading along the bottom of the boom and around the cleat.
On Saturday morning, the mainsail went up in one steady haul, the engine was stopped and we were sailing.
The next decision has to be taken at the end of a day’s sailing as to when to reinstate the lines.
Beyond Steeple Point 