Folksong

On sailing a Folksong – Mike Burns and ‘Fram’

/ Bill

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!

On sailing a Folksong – evolving designs

/ Bill

In the Trechandiri post  a week or so ago. I was thinking about evolving boat design, talking about it in old man’s ‘generation-to-generation’ terms. But, of course, boat designers are continually modifying their ideas – and boat owners continually modify the designer’s ideas with ideas of their own.

Below is an extract from an interview between Frank Rosenow and Thord Sund, the designer of the Folkboat. It first appeared in Sail Magazine, June 1979, and was reproduced in Yachting Monthly, October 1979 under the heading “Folkboat Encounter”.

~~~

“”I first designed her (the Folkboat) with a fully battened mainsail. It took me quite a while to realize how impractical that arrangement was . . . , another brainstorm was when I saw that a canvas cot I had intended for the cockpit would fit into the forepeak with room to spare.

Another twist was that I had conceived her as a weekend cruiser, with the simplest possible rig and equipment. There were no winches of course since the jib halyard and the jib sheets could be taken care of with two-part tackles.

In spite of all this simplicity, or maybe on account of it, people started sailing Folkboats to and from every conceivable corner of the world. And I’m glad the boat proved equal to it, even without a self-draining cockpit and all the rest of it. . . .”

In 1966, Thord Sund redesigned the Nordic Folkboat for production in fiberglass. On the “inter­national Folkboat” he retained the proven hull sections but increased the freeboard from 550mm to 660mm to obtain more room below.  He also drew out the bow and rounded off the stern, for appearance’s sake. The clinker pattern of the original’s fir planking was dropped, marginally reducing wetted surface.

This time, he opted for a self-draining cockpit, mainly because potential buyers seemed to think it would make the boat safer “They” also wanted a spinnaker, so he raised the headstay attachment point on the mast and settled on an altogether new rig. The new rig configuration allowed the use of higher aspect ratio jibs and of large  over-lapping genoas. Halyard and sheet winches were now called for.

Sunden’s final variation on the folkboat theme came in the mid-1970s when, again responding to popular demand, he designed the M26 (Sunwind) with an even higher freeboard and provision for a Volvo-Penta diesel engine.

Then, with another quantum jump in the freeboard, she had come to the box-like apparition we were sitting in – “Of course, she does have a hell of a lot of space.” mused Sunden.

“We live in a different age.” he said, almost angrily. “People swarm onboard at the boat shows wearing muddy clogs, and the only thing they are interested in is standing room by the galley. So here you have it, the private flush toilet, the walk-in closet, a wall-to-wall carpet and all that garbage.”

He proceeded to decant the sherry, his heavy-lidded, sea-blue eyes staring sadly at the cork.”

~~~

At the same time as Thord Sund was thinking along these lines, Eric Berqgvist had taken the idea and produced the Folksong – this post. He too evolved his design as production proceeded.

All this was happening thirty or so years ago. Since then, technology has leapt forward, construction materials have developed, design ideas are continually being modified. These are exciting times.

Nevertheless, I picked the Folksong for the ideas that Berqgvist and Sund were working on. It suits me.

(With thanks to Mike Burns for pointing out both articles).


On sailing a Folksong – Interview with Eric Bergqvist (continued) . . .

/ Bill / 1 Comment

Here is the the continuation of the interview with Eric Bergqvist by Ted Bradbury, who, at the time, was looking for a seaworthy cruiser to sail to the Azores – (with thanks to Mike Burns). I guess this would have been sometime around 1982/83:

Ted: I do appreciate how reasonable your prices are – (hull and deck mouldings £1750 +VAT – ed.), but doesn’t that mean that the boat has been designed to its limits – minimum bulkheads and thin laminates etc?

Eric: Not at all. The long low profile of the Folksong uses less materials as well as contributing to the boats sailing performance. The laminate is of chopped strand mat construction resulting in a thick hull which, although hand laid, is quick and easy to make. The deck is an economical one-piece moulding and the bulkheads and other interior fit-out all wood.

Ted: Why is the wood interior economical? It must take a lot of time to fit and finish.

Eric: It will take longer to fit than the kit of moulded and pre-finished parts that you would have to buy to complete a modern production yacht but these kits are expensive because you are paying for someone else’s labour and overheads. Such kits also offer very little, if any, flexibility or freedom of design. Our basic interior kit is simple and straightforward because it’s been designed specifically for the home-builder who can keep the layout as it is or add his own ideas and innovations as he goes along. We sell bare hulls and decks to customers who want to do it all themselves, or part or fully finished boats to those who haven’t the time or inclination for fitting out. Admittedly the finish we use, painted plywood with varnished hardwood trims, is time-consuming, but it is also relatively inexpensive. It has a warm classic look and can be smartened up each spring with a fresh coat of paint.

Ted: I think I see now why you haven’t attempted to give the Folksong standing headroom, but surely this is unacceptable to most prospective buyers.

Eric: I agree that the lack of standing room is a drawback but a box cabin high enough to allow for this would ruin her lines and performance and increase the cost. There are plenty of 25 footers to choose from with standing headroom but few that can be built as economically as the Folksong or perform as well. In fact the Folksong’s headroom rarely concerns my serious customers because the Folksong design appeals principally to experienced sailors. Like you and I they have the ultimate ambition of making that long ocean passage and are confident that the Folksong can help them accomplish such a dream.

Ted: Finally, Eric, have you made any improvements to the Folksong in the three years you’ve been producing her?

Eric: Of course. The design is constantly developing. From the fifty or so boats built we’ve had a lot of customer feedback and each year a new interior is planned for a customer’s own specific requirements. Recently a new cockpit layout was added with an outboard well, and the Folksong hull has been successfully used for other hone designed cruisers. At the moment, two customers are building Chinese junk rigged Folksongs. One of these is a replica of Blondie Hasler’s Folkboat, Jester, that made so many single-handed transatlantic crossings. And what better recommendation for a Folkboat than that!

~~~

Well, there you have it from the designer himself. He wanted the Folksong to be good-looking, economical in its simplicity, have a good performance – hence the low profile, be flexible in its design and be capable of ocean voyages by the ambitious and the experienced.

That’s what I saw the day I first saw Blue Mistress. What about you?


On sailing a Folksong – Fram and Eric Bergqvist

/ Bill / 3 Comments

I am not the only one owning a Folksong. In fact, compared to some, I am very much the novice – (as anyone who has read this blog for a while can testify). However, I have learnt a thing or two and I know a gem when I see it.

Kite gybe

This is Fram. The picture speaks for itself.

Mike Burns wrote at the end of last month:

“I home completed a Folksong in 1984 . . . and still have her . . .

“Maiden voyage in 1985 was circumnavigation of the north of Scotland, ie. clockwise Fortrose to Fortrose via the Caledonian Canal.

“Raced her last weekend single handed, flew spinnaker & also had to anchor up when wind dropped & strong tide, only came third out of 8 mixed handicap boats. Had to winch up the anchor with the genoa winch!!”

He has kindly sent images of Fram and copies of his original documents, and has given me permission to publish them here which I am delighted to do. Thank you, Mike. I hope we will exchange more details as time goes on.

~ ~ ~

Among the documents is an interview with the Folksong designer – Eric Bergqvist.

In it, he says: “I wanted a yacht fit for sailing single-handed in the Irish Sea.

“The first of my three requirements was that she had to be attractive. Pride of ownership is always a top priority and a gentle evening’s sail followed by a few pints and a chat at the club can be just as rewarding as a landfall after a long passage.

Fortrose Harbour

“My second priority was performance – speed on all points of sail and the ability to keep going in a short steep sea where you’ve the combination of wind over tide in shallow water. Self-steering is, in my opinion, the best aid to navigation, enabling the skipper to keep dry, warm and alert. The Folksong’s long keel gives good directional stability and suits the construction of a very simple self-steering device.

“My third requirement was ease of construction. Simplicity is the essence of both good design and economy, and I’m not in the position of having a lot of money tied up in a yacht.

These three requirements: looks, performance and economy all add up to a fibreglass Folkboat.”

With dolphins

That sums it up for me. Even though I have spent more money than planned on Blue Mistress – (yeah, well . . .), she is still more economical than many similar boats from the more well-known classes. She performs well and looks good.

~~~

Now, some detail. In the extract above, he talks of “the construction of a very simple self-steering device.” Do any Folksong (or Folkboat, Folkdancer or similar long-keeled boat) owners know which one from the early eighties he may have been referring to?

On sailing a Folksong – a spring tide sail

/ Bill / 3 Comments

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 sailing a Folksong – Saturday morning

/ Bill

I went down to the boat on Friday evening to spend a few days on board.

The following morning, having worked out the early routine, I made a cup of tea and sat with my head out of the hatch to enjoy the peace in the morning sunshine and watch the tide as it slackened towards high water. Today was the top of the spring tides – (0903, 5.4m; the still higher 5.7m due just after 2200). I cannot remember seeing the level so close to the top of the Cattedown Wharves (below).

A blast on a ship’s horn and the bow of Bro Deliverer, registered in Goteborg, appeared from behind the sheds – adding a different shade of blue to the scene and totally changing the perspective. A tug and the pilot boat tripped alongside her.

0756

She nosed into the turning area and came around stern first. The tug scurrying around while the pilot boat stood off with an air of dignified watchfulness.

A yacht motored briskly out of the Yacht Haven, promptly eased off and drifted gently, waiting for the ship to slip up river stern first.

0800

A few minutes later, a pleasure boat left its berth on the outside of the Yacht Haven pontoons and hurried around her bow to pick up its first passengers of the day.

Meanwhile, Bro Deliverer came level with the wharves and, with a little help from the tug, eased sideways into her berth. Lines were thrown and she came to a stop, dwarfing the cranes and sheds.

0815

All was over in 20 minutes or so – a well rehearsed routine, neatly accomplished by the ships crew, the crews of the tug and pilot boat as well as the shore crew.

My brother rang at this point to say he was five minutes away. Time to row ashore.

On sailing a Folksong – those lazy jacks again

/ Bill / 2 Comments

Saturday morning around 0930, heading towards Mount Batten Pier with a following wind.

All morning, Plymouth Longroom has been delivering a Mariners Notice of an impending powerboat race in Plymouth Sound, warning other boats to stay clear. There are few boats out. I am heading towards Mount Batten pier, preparing to downsails in the spot I usually use when solo so that I can motor back to the mooring.

I start to wonder if today woould be a good day to sail the nautical mile, if not onto the mooring, at least close to it. Could I sail single-handed in restricted waters without making a complete scallops of it?

This is a 25 foot boat with just me on board. There is a wide S bend to negotiate but enough width in a river that takes commercial shipping. The wind is southerly but will differ in the river. It will be heading me as I turn towards the Yacht Haven and it will be gusting in the river. The tide is still be dropping, and is towards the end of its run.  There’s certainly enough wind tot take me over it. Depth may or may not be an issue. The traffic is minimal . . .  And I would like the experience.

There would have been a time when I would have done it without asking the questions. The trouble is, the more I know . . .

So, now, decision taken, I am almost too far to the right of the end of the pier, the foresail is goosewinged and a gybe looks likely before I clear it. But as we get closer, the wind backs slightly, blowing along the pier, and we slip round the end with at least thirty yards to spare.

There are three or four boats emerging from Sutton Harbour and a racing yacht circling as the crew work on the mainsail.There’s is plenty of room for Blue Mistress if we keep to the right of the fairway.

The wind is now blowing downriver, more south easterly, with enough south in it to keep me outside the line of mooring buoys. Round the green fairway buoy, hardening onto the wind towards Victoria Wharves. A large yacht – (white, tall sides) is motoring downstream, passing swiftly astern. A fishing boat, closer to the Plymouth side, looks concerned, slows, turns to head us, (perhaps thinking I may tack early), realises I won’t, then passes well astern.

By now, I am adjacent to the entrance to the Wharves, and the wall is coming up. Still plenty of water below us. A glimpse of a man above, hosing equipment. Foresheet to hand, tiller hard over, Blue Mistress comes about, sails flap, I drop the port foresheet, haul in the starboard one quickly before the wind fills the sail . . . and we are bounding up and across river. I ease the foresheet slightly to give more belly. Hauling the sheet  in  just before the sail fills is very easy but, in my enthusiasm, I tend to flatten the sail.

The wind is coming in gusts now and we dinghy-sail, bringing her head up when the strength of the wind allows and noting the slight variations in direction. It comes across the Yacht Haven straight down this section of the river, and then begins to back a little as it draws across Turnchapel. We’re heading towards the moorings of boats of a similar size to Blue Mistress. There is plenty of depth of water here but I don’t want to get in among the moorings.

A strong gust, we heel, head up, and then go about. This time I am more gentle on the helm, deciding not to push it hard over but to see whether being less forceful will still bring her about but keep momentum up. It seems to work and Blue Mistress moves smoothly onto the next tack. Despite my concerns about the rudder, it does the job.

This is the narrowest section. We are head on to a corner of the river wall. It is approaching swiftly. At low springs, there is a rocky reef exposed off this point so, although there is probably enough water, I give it room, go about and head up towards what the chart designates as a ‘turning area’  for the larger commercial ships. Now Blue Mistress and I have navigated the S-bend in the river and have opened up the stretch towards Oreston and beyond.

In towards the seaward end of the Yacht Haven, and we are headed upstream, slowing as we head into a more sheltered stretch. It seems the tide is running a little stronger here.

When I put my head out of the hatch just after 0600 this morning, ‘Stability’ was docking at Cattedown Wharf. We pass along her starboard side.

I bring Blue Mistress head to wind. . .

and, just as I let go of the main, we get caught by a heavy shower of rain.

Roundly cursing having to stow wet sails, I notice the lazy jacks are still led forward. Not only are the sails wet and slippery, but the mainsail is now in an untidy heap. I have sail ties in my pocket, but, by the time I have gathered it into a fairly neat bundle, tied it, let the foresail drop to the deck, and stowed it (wet) into its bag through the forehatch, the tide has taken us back down the river the whole length of ‘Stability’. Engine on, motor back to where we were and finish cleaning up.

Then back to the mooring to complete the task.

Single-handed, a lot more forethought is needed – forethought comes from experience.

The lazy jacks should have been put back before we rounded Mount Batten Pier. I won’t forget again.

On sailing a Folksong – Lazy Jacks

/ Bill / 1 Comment

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.

On sailing a Folksong – one nautical mile

/ Bill / 1 Comment

I woke on the boat on Saturday morning to a slowly clearing sky and little wind. By the time I had prepared for a morning’s solo sail, the sun was emerging.

The spring tide had been flooding fast when I had my first cup of tea but was now less fierce.

Leaving a fore and aft trot mooring single-handed can be tricky. The tide makes all the difference.

Blue mistress, like all the others on the trot, is moored looking downstream. She has two stern lines – one to each quarter and  two bow lines over the bow roller.

This morning, the incoming tide allowed me loosen the port quarter line and drop the starboard one. This let the stern drift to starboard away from the trot line but still stay attached to the buoy. Lightly lashing the tiller to port caused the bow to want to turn to starboard, away from the forward buoy. Engaging the throttle very lightly to hold her against the tide, I went forward, dropped the bow line to port, releasing the bow to swing slowly (the long keel helps here) out to starboard. I returned aft, dropped the stern line and pushed the throttle gently forward.

~~~

Now that Blue Mistress is more or less as planned (always more to do, of course), I have time to look around and enjoy the surroundings as well as the boat. The early morning was crisp and clear, so, camera in one hand, tiller in the other, I motored down to the Sound enjoying the ride. There was nobody around. I had the water more or less to myself.

What follows is that early morning trip down the Plym – from the mooring to Plymouth Sound, a little over one nautical mile, highlighting some of what I saw:

The entrance to Hooe Lake

Astern, the sky was still heavy with cloud over Oreston and Plymstock.

Cattedown Wharves. The previous evening, I had watched a ship enter Plymouth Sound via the western entrance. She was busy unloading when I returned to the mooring later. She left silently in the night.

The entrance to Plymouth Yacht Haven. Little movement there.

Further downstream, through the moorings, the buildings on Plymouth Hoe were catching the sun.

The Hangars that were a part of RAF Mount Batten and are now boatyards. The Mount Batten Centre is this side of them.

Victoria Wharves.

Queen Anne’s Battery with the Royal Western Yacht Club, the home of OSTAR, on the far right. The National Marine Aquarium is in the centre.

The austere ramparts of the Royal Citadel

The entrance to Sutton Harbour and the Barbican.

Smeaton’s Tower and the Hoe with Tinside Pool beneath and the Royal Plymouth Corinthian Yacht Club on the right

And, round the end of Mount Batten Pier, the Sound itself, with the Royal Navy much in evidence.

A lone fishing boat scuttled past, in a hurry to get to sea, her wake underlining Drake’s Island with the Mount Edgcumbe Estate in the background.

~~~

The mainsail set without the battens snagging the lazy jacks. I’d had a hard time of it the previous afternoon, but there was less wind today. Then the genoa – and we made a starboard tack in under Jennycliff where the wind was stronger as it hugged the short Fort Bovisand to Ramscliff Point stretch of coast

Tacking onto a close reach, it took an hour and a half  to cross the 3 nm of the Sound from Jennycliff to Cawsand –  a patient and gentle 2 knots.

Close to the top of the tide, the Breakwater was washed by the slight swell, the western end bathed in the morning light.

There was even less swell in the Sound and Blue Mistress sailed upright and silent.

In towards Cawsand, the wind increased from around Penlee Point, and we made 4 knots right up to the trees that come down to the water here.

A nod and a wave to a man on his boat anchored close in, and then the second tack of the day to look along the outside of the Breakwater.

But by then the wind was dropping away further and my 1.5 knots (and falling) would not get me back to the mooring in time.

Stowing the genoa, I motored back across the Sound and up the Plym again.

This was not sailing as sport – but sailing as therapy, the cares of the week blown away.

~~~

An hour later and barely three miles away, I was stationary in the car, caught in two impatient lanes of holiday traffic waiting for an accident to be cleared. Hey, ho . . .