This post is for fellow Folksong owners – knowing you would understand.
On the way to St Ives, we detoured to check on the boat.
Around 1230, it was raining hard – big drops with more to come.
All seemed secure, so we drove on – south west, meeting the heavy weather on the road, half of me wondering how things were on the mooring now.
Following my ‘love of a boat’ post on 25th February, I want to speak up again for a project that I have only recently become aware of but one that so obviously meets the spirit of this series that I cannot believe it has taken me so long to find out about it.
We have spent this weekend in St Ives.
I had hoped to see the Jumbo, a replica of the smallest class of St Ives fishing lugger – (details of the project can be found here).
No chance – but I made up with it in viewing the many old photographs of the original boats available around the town.
Apart for appreciating the boat as a boat, my interest was sparked by a press release dated November 2007.
An extract from it reads:
“Our aim is to establish a racing class of these boats at St.Ives in order to regenerate a waterfront community in decline. How much more effective it would be if, in addition, these boats could be eventually used for the purpose for which they were designed whilst providing a seasonal income for a couple of individuals!
Clearly, there may come a time when, in addition to any green, carbon neutral credentials, a sail-operated fishery could become commercially viable or at least a natural way of conserving resources (as demonstrated by the Falmouth oyster fishery – much celebrated as the last in the world to be worked under sail).
In the meantime the skills required need to be developed. There’s a growing recognition that this approach would at least address some serious issues; the sustainability of fish stocks, the rising cost of fuel, the dependence on imported goods and the lack of employment opportunities in rural areas to name a few.
And if successful, the model could be readily repeated elsewhere.
Only a few months ago such a proposal would have been dismissed as romantic fantasy. So far however, my inquiries have been met with a degree of excitement.”
This is a brave start and I am sure that more than a few eyebrows have been raised.
However the project has powerful backing and a great deal of goodwill, to which I am happy to add my own small cupful.
I invite you to explore their well-managed site and appreciate the enterprise.
For the origins and full set of images in this series, here
“Blue”? “Blue”? Who’s Blue? My name’s Blue Mistress!
Yea, I know but . . .
Do you know that a person’s name are the most important words to them in the whole world?
Well, yes, I do. But you’re not a person, you’re a boat.
Same difference. It’s unlucky to change a boat’s name. Do you know about the ceremonies to do that?
OK. Let’s be real about this. I want to add another element to this blog – a conversation about boats, built around Folksongs.
I don’t want it to be a rant or a rave or me dictating what should or shouldn’t be – just a dialogue between me and whoever – in this case you, Blue. It gives me a chance to write in a different way and broaden the topics.
Sounds doubtful to me. Talking to a boat? They’ll think you’re nuts.
Maybe. But this blog is four years old. There’s plenty of stuff in it to say I may not be nuts. Anyway, it’s not an ‘official’ blog, it’s my blog.
So why can’t I still be Blue Mistress in this section?
Firstly, ‘Blue’ is short, easy and friendly. Secondly, the women in my family take your name literally – they think the time, energy and money I’ve put into you are similar to having a real mistress. I thought I’d try wild women and whisky for a year or two to show them how that works. I could get used to it – but only if they came sailing.
There was a move to rename you Blue Mist a couple of years ago to take the (st)ress out of you – (get it?).
But you need a positive reason to change a name. After all, once the change has been made, the new one is the important one. To be called Blue Mist “because-a-few-people-were-wary-of-Blue-Mistress” would have been all wrong. And look what it might have involved – here, here or here.
Ok. I’ll hold off – but only for four posts. It better be interesting.
We shall see.
I went aboard during the slack tide to do a few jobs – strengthen the mooring lines, make it easier to drop the pick-up line and also the anti-chafe plastic piping on the stern lines had slipped and need re-securing. I ran the engine and remembered how much it needs a service. And there was very little water in the boat – one pull on the hand-pump was enough.
~~~
When I bought Blue Mistress, I inherited a spinnaker that had seen better days and, having written it off, I have been content to sail without one. However, I have recently acquired a nearly-new spinnaker from a Folkboat – (North Sails), so am now looking at ways of setting it.
The idea is to prepare the ground for doing it single-handed and then, for the first few times have a crew, to test out the the theory.
By sewing tags onto the spinnaker bag at the forward ‘angles’, I can tie it to either side of the pushpit forward of the stanchions. It will be held open by the line to the forestay and fixed at the base to the bow roller. The bungee cord can be tightened or loosened to control the size of the opening and keep the sail in the bag until needed.
Having worked that out and found the halyard was not long enough to feed back to the cockpit, which could be a problem – (and dropped the bag back into the dinghy to bring home for sewing), I looked at the pole.
I wanted to decide on lengths – length of sheet/guy and downhaul.
By shackling a block forward, and feeding the downhaul back to the cockpit, I can control it from there.
The sheet/guy can be fed to the second track aft of the main sheet track and brought round the winch to the usual cleat, (Blue Mistress does not have self-tailing winches – doesn’t seem to need them).
I know it’s possible to do this single-handed because it happens on Fram.
In theory, given a good day and light winds, I could probably manage this sail – but, hey, that’s theory and I have a way to go yet. (All suggestions gratefully received).
~~~
By the time I came to leave, the flood tide was well under way and it carried the dinghy back to the slipway.
Just the two of us on this trot at the end of February – Blue Mistress and Charisma.
My thanks to Adam of “Blue Moon”, an International Folkboat – (oceanslogic) for pointing to this clip.
“Taking out the Folkboat Positiv after the 2008 Gold Cup . . .” with a casual ad at the end.
The row out to the boat was shrouded in the morning mist – the top of the tide increasing the deep silence over still water.
Others were busy too. It was the annual mooring shift to allow the Cattewater Harbour Commission to lift and reset the moorings – a valuable service that gives peace of mind but requires some swift work to oblige.
The buoys are stripped of their usual tangle of lines and shackles, most of which have been there all year. As a result the pins are usually well and truly fast.
In Blue Mistress’ case this is not altogether true. We lost a pin due to a poorly moused shackle earlier last autumn, so there is one new, easily removed shackle. In fact all three of the shackles on our stern buoy (above) were relatively easy to remove but the two on the bow buoy were jammed. It required a very large spanner, another one jammed in the shackle to hold it still and two of us to lean on it. Thanks to Freya’s skipper for his foresight and help – I promise to buy a bigger spanner next time!
~~~
When I looked up the fog had lifted and the rowers were out.
It seemed to good an opportunity to miss, so I motored down to the end of Mountbatten Pier in the sunshine, catching “Sweet As” returning from an early morning fishing trip.
The emphasis then came on lorries parked for the weekend – here below the mark (DirFRWG),
and here in gentle salute on the Cattewater Wharf.
I was expected in Exeter this afternoon but checking the boat after the snow, the frosts and the rain of the past two weeks was a priority, so I seized the moment this morning.
The drive to Plymouth is about an hour and I got there about 10:15. By the time I had pumped up the dinghy, talked to the man who was going fishing in his ocean kayak and taken some photos, it was about 10:45 when I finally arrived aboard.
There is debris in the river from the heavy weather. In general, it floats past, but occasionally snags boats that are moored on the trots.
The mooring lines were as I had left them two weeks ago. There were no loose halyards. The sail cover was still firmly in place – it is too short and I have promised myself I will get one the right length one day. In the meantime, the boom end is covered by a square of canvas.
She looked neat in the morning sun.
The ten minute row demanded a small celebration.
Then start the engine (it fired first time!) and a look around before getting on with the several jobs I had planned:
The seagulls were enjoying the sunshine;
the fine house on the Cattewater shore was still overwhelmed by her industrial neighbours;
the boatyard on the opposite shore was the usual marvellous jumble of work-in-progress;
and the rowers were taking advantage of the weather.
A good day for a sail. Pity I had to return so soon.
This blog never set out to be a website for the Folksong as a class. It was designed for me to find out more about my Folksong. (At the same time it has given me a chance to share maritime subjects that inspire me).
Folksong are not common. I still do not know how many home-completion hulls were built and sold from Eric Bergqvist’s yard in Lymm, Cheshire. So when owners and prospective owners come out of the ether as they do at intermittent intervals, its always a pleasure to hear from them. They are an independent lot.
For the record, here are five boats whose owners (or, in one case, prospective owner) contacted me in 2009 – (and if they’re reading this, “Happy New Year!”):
Fram
Sailing out of Fortrose on the Moray Firth in Scotland, Fram is the most ‘authentic’ of the Folksong I have come across. Finished to Bergqvist’s original plans in 1984 by her current owner, her maiden voyage included a circumnavigation of the north of Scotland – clockwise Fortrose to Fortrose via the Caledonian Canal.
Solaire
Solaire was discovered this year after ten years beside a barn on a farm in New South Wales, Australia. She is due for complete renovation on the western shore of Port Phillip Bay. Of course, the big question is: “how did she get to Australia?”
Matilda
And Matilda, on the south coast of England, is also a recent purchase, the owner looking for thoughts on the rig and news of other Folksongs in the area.
Betsy
In September, I was contacted about Betsy, which was for sale in the Algarve. I had to admit that I didn’t know of her previously – but I was fascinated by the blue stanchions!
Sea Pigeon
And Sea Pigeon, seen here at Brightlingsea. Back in 2007, it was Sea Pigeon’s cabin, and particularly the engine housing, that gave me ideas for the layout in Blue Mistress.
Sea Pigeon is now for sale. For an excellent description of a Folksong, I commend her details to you.
AA has come up with an answer to my ‘the speed of dolphins’ question via this link.
Under the title “Dolphins swim so fast it hurts” the author reports:
“What is the fastest a dolphin can swim? Near the surface, no more than 54 kilometres per hour. Why? Because it hurts it to swim faster.Those are the findings of a pair of researchers from the Israel Institute of Technology in Haifa. But tuna, they say, do not suffer the same problem. Gil Iosilevskii and Danny Weihs carried out a series of calculations to model the tail and fins of fish such as tuna and mackerel, and cetaceans such as dolphins. The aim was to determine what limits the maximum speed at which these creatures can swim. The researchers found that although muscle power is the limiting factor for small fish, this is not the case for larger and more powerful swimmers such as tuna and dolphins. . . .”
Citing cavitation – (the same problem that causes erosion in propellers), as the painful limiting factor, they give 10-15 metres per second (36-54 kilometres per hour) as a maximum.
~~~
So how does this tie in with man’s maximum speed on water without an engine?
For that, you have to look at Hydroptere achieving 51.3 knots over 500 metres
It seems they built an aeroplane and then found a way of gluing it to the surface of the water.
By the way, if you are a wooden-boat person, don’t for a moment think that boat-builders haven’t for ever been constantly developing their skills and technology to improve the speed and/or capacity of their craft, especially where commerce or glory were involved.
It’s not for nothing that the organisers of class-racing have had to place limits on boat specifications to make racing fairer – and don’t for a moment think that individual racers aren’t for ever looking for ways to quietly (very, very quietly) improve the performance of their own boats.
Hopefully, technology will come out of Hydroptere that will filter down to the rest of us.
(And let’s hope they continue to sail where there’s no traffic).
~~~
Which brings me to Blue Mistrss and a more prosaic rate of travel!
When the Folksong were built, one of the accepted methods of calculating maximum boat speed was as follows:
“The speed that a yacht’s hull can be made to travel through water is related to waterline length.
The formula for an average sea-going yacht of conventional shape is:
Speed in knots = 1.4 x Square root of the L.W.L. in feet
The multiplier is altered according to the type of hull. It may range from 1.25 for a tubby hull to 1.5 for a large racing yacht.”
Therefore Blue Mistress’ theoretical maximum speed at L.W.L 19’ 8”: (I have made no allowance for hull shape)
= 1.4 x square root of 19.66 ft = 1.4 x 4.434 = 6.2 knots
I guess there are several other calculations now, but that was then.
The maximum speed (recorded on my handheld gps) on last Sunday’s sail was 6.8 knots.
The best ever is 10.4 knots, remembering that this is speed-over-the-ground rather than speed-through-the-water, i.e. there was an element of tide in the speed recorded – and in the case of 10.4 knots it was a spring tide plus surfing that helped, which makes it even slower than Hydroptere where, presumably, for their record to stand, the water was slack.
Oh, and also not forgetting that my numbers would have to be achieved for a mere nano-second to satisfy the gps, not a timed distance over 500 metres!
~~~
But there’s one distinct advantage for Blue Mistress here – I bet Hydroptere’s crew didn’t have time for the dolphins.
I have been looking at the images of dolphins I took last weekend – and I have a question:
When you are this size and this shape, how fast do you have to go to carve a furrow in the sea this deep?
Beyond Steeple Point 