Folksong

For love of a boat – in Roussillon, France

/ Bill



Banyuls-sur-mer, Languedoc-Roussillon, France 2008

This series is based on contemporary images of boats that take my eye.

This usually means they have, or have inherited, a character that makes them stand out from the ‘usual and customary’. This character usually comes from the work they were built for.

Where they are still providing their owners with a living, these working boats are predominantly local fishing boats, but, nowdays, those that are still working often represent the end of the line.

Across Europe, local fisherman are taking to technology and wooden working boats are evolving into leisure boats – or being destroyed.

In most cases, I am happy to leave the images to speak for themselves, but in some areas there is evidence that there is a concerted effort to bridge the gap between the past and the future so that the boats are not just a source of nostalgia but have a role in the present and the future

Such is the case with the boats above, examples of which are found in all the ports along this coast.

These are barques catalanes a voile latine.

I highly recommend the beautifully presented website above. It is in French – (Google have a free translation service but it tends to be word for word and the translation itself needs deciphering). It is worth persevering.

Click on ‘Le coin des enfants’ for the local childrens’ view – (click on the cards at the bottom of that page too- and don’t underestimate how rarely you will witness such endeavours).

More darkly, go to ‘Photos d’autrefois’ (old photos). Half way down the page are pictures of the ancestors of these boats being burnt on the beaches. These tie in with an earlier post on fishing boats at the other end of the Mediterranean – here

Now look at the images again – look at the rake of the masts, the length of the spars. the absence of rigging, the colours. Wonder what it is like to sail in them (and find out on the website).

This is the Cote Vermeille, where Matisse and Derain (Fauvism) among others were inspired by the light and a century ago were painting these boats on the beaches.

For the origin of this series – here

On sailing a Folksong

/ Bill

Lazy jacks – Tiller Trimmer

Not last Friday – (Northwest 6 to gale 8 decreasing 4, then backing southwest and increasing 5 or 6 later. Moderate or rough, occasionally very rough in west. Squally showers. Moderate or good.) – but the Friday before.

Solo, I motored out past Mount Batten pier and tucked in, out of the way, towards Jennycliff, to set the mainsail.

Problem: unless we are head to wind, the slides jam and the mainsail won’t run up the mast; and, when we are head to wind, the head of the sail flaps as it runs up the mast and the battens catch in the lazy jacks.

I haven’t cracked this yet, and suspect that I will always be juggling with the problem.

Head-to-wind isn’t the main problem, getting caught in the lazy jacks is.

Keeping head to wind does require some work when single-handed.

It works best to set the mainsail before the foresail – the bow is blown off the wind less quickly.

Blue Mistress, with her long keel, holds a course fairly well so coming into the wind, releasing the tiller and hauling quickly will work – provided the battens don’t get caught in the lazy jacks.

The Tiller Trimmer works well with the engine in slow revs.

The Autohelm is even better, keeping the boat moving directly into the wind on the engine. But using the Autohelm means setting it up just for this job, and then dismantling it because, following that blissful moment when the engine is killed, I usually don’t want it.

I nearly got it right that Friday – (only had to half lower the sail once : -)). You can see from the image that I needed to tighten up the main halyard which I did later.

And the lazy jacks? They need to be tight when raising the sail – loose, as in the image below (taken last February), guarantees the battens getting caught.

And then they have to be loosened once the sail is up, (first the topping lift, then the lazy jacks), otherwise they interfere with the curve of the sail as above.

The Tiller Trimmer has been a great help. You can see the brake on the tiller behind Pete, with the control line leading back to cleats either side.

That Friday, I put up the main, bore away to take the wind on the beam and set the tiller.

I had time to loosen the topping lift, go forward, shackle on the foresail halyard – (I don’t like it swinging uselessly when we are under power), release the four ties holding the jib to the lifelines, loosen the lazy jacks, look across to the anchorage under Jennycliff which was full of boats, and then go aft and raise the jib.

Blue Mistress was still sailing well, I guess her bow had dropped off 5-10 degrees. My working on the foredeck would have altered the balance. Normally, I wouldn’t be so slow, but I wanted to see what would happen if I took longer.

When we’re sailing, I release the control line on the Tiller Mate entirely, only setting it up if I am going to use it. However, loose the control knob, the feed pulley acts as a brake and I prefer the tiller to be completely free when at the helm.

I have some issues about the tiller and rudder on the Folksong which I will raise in a later post.

For the origin of this series: here.

By the way, yes, it was February in the image above and, yes, that is someone water skiing in Devon.

On sailing a Folksong

/ Bill / 2 Comments

At the top of this blog is a subtitle which says ‘”Blue Mistress” our Folksong 26’. The blog was started with the intention of seeking out other Folksongs and learning more about the boat.

However, in the past year, I have only occasionally written about Blue Mistress and I think it is time to get a series together for other Folksong owners and anyone else who is interested.

Blue Mistress – January 2008

Firstly, the honeymoon was over for me in the spring. Blue Mistress was no longer ‘new’ to me. A couple of major refits had been completed and I had become familiar with the boat. I could go aboard and know that she would be dry below despite the heavy rains we were having. In a sea, I could trust the engine box not to come apart. I have solved some basic stowage problems, and so on.

People are very complimentary about her appearance. Being complimentary about a boat will always flatter the owner and I’m no exception. I would like to say that I carried out all the work, but it’s not true. I’d like to say I spend more time sailing than I do, but I don’t spend enough time, I have to earn a living.

However, from being a very naive owner of a boat, I am now slightly less so and ready to talk seriously about the ups and downs of sailing this boat. When they are ready, I hope other owners will join in. I am not a committee person or a ‘lets all do this together’ person. I value my independence. But neither am I so dumb that I can’t see that two, three or more brains bent to a problems can be very useful.

Plymouth – early Friday evening

/ Bill

In my teens, I dreamed of sailing all day and arriving in the early evening in some isolated cove, with a sandy beach, palm trees, a freshwater spring – and all the other things teenage boys dream of.

Well, these days, reality is slightly different but no less interesting.

On Friday, I sailed out of and arrived back in Plymouth – the sun shone, the wind blew hard enough, there were few boats around, Blue Mistress flew along – a fantastic sail. I didn’t arrive back to palm trees waving in the breeze but to a view that countless seamen have had reason to appreciate.

I took these in quick succession.

Before me was the Royal Citadel, with the Royal Plymouth Corinthian Yacht Club in the foreground.

Over there was Plymouth Hoe, where Sir Francis Drake was given news of the Spanish Armada – the lighthouse is Smeatons Tower brought ashore and rebuilt when it was replaced with the new Eddystone Lighthouse, ten miles offshore.

And, to starboard, was Mount Batten. My course lay in this direction.

The aim of this post is not to act as a tourist guide to Plymouth (although I’m happy to do so), but to note the excitement of coming to a mooring in the evening through waters that generation upon generation have used before – and generations will continue to use.

We must keep it right for them.

For love of a boat – in Roussillon, France

/ Bill / 1 Comment

Port Vendres, Roussillon, France 2008

AA suggested that the boat in my last post looked clean and little used.

So I present this one – moored a few kilometers along the coast.

We spent a week or so on the Cote Vermeille and I have a folder of images of local boats (especially les Barques Catalan – of which more later).

This was one of my favourites. It may not have the most elegant lines or the most colourful finish, and might need a refit soon, but here is a boat that’s doing what it was designed to do.

Is it better to work a boat, or leave it on the beach for we tourists to look at?

I think Port Vendres is a wonderful place for the same reason, because it’s still doing what it grew up doing.

For the origin of this series – here

A salutary lesson in getting back on board

/ Bill / 1 Comment

I went for a swim on Saturday.

Peggy and I chose what felt like the one sunny day this August, with a perfect wind for sailing, not to sail but to take a couple of hours out and motor out into the Sound for a picnic.

We anchored under Jennycliff, where the bushes and shrubs come almost down to the water, and a narrow waterfall splashes onto the rocks. We were out of the wind, on a perfect holding ground, with the sea sparkling, enjoying the warmth of the sun – yes, this is Devon.

Ever since I bought Blue Mistress, I have been wondering how to get back aboard should I ever go over the side. In a high-sided boat with a near vertical transom, I would have a metal boarding ladder which folded down. In an open-sterned vessel, I might have a built-in step. But Blue Mistress is neither of these – sloping transom, elegant sheer. A ladder attached to the stern seemed far too cumbersome for such a boat.

So, last spring, I invested in a simple ladder I could stow away – a neat, collapsible boarding ladder, which can be stowed away with ease. 112 cm long with 6 rungs and spacers to hold the ladder away from vertical surfaces •Very stable and safe • Weighs only 1.3kg • folds down to just 255x255x125mm • Safe Working Load: 226kg.

The lesson is there in the detail, of course, and you can see what’s coming – but to date I have been very pleased with it – neatly stowed away in a stern locker, waiting to be tested.

So yesterday, I said, “We’ll try the ladder out today. Better I go first in case there’s a problem.”

With my smart, white ladder hooked over the shallow toe rail, and the top rung made fast to a winch base on the cockpit coaming, I stepped over the lifeline and descended – rather more swiftly than I intended, but with what grace I could muster, into the water. The temperature was ok so I spent time swimming around the boat, cleaning the algae off the waterline. It took about fifteen minutes to go round. The sides are low enough for me to hang onto the toe rail with one hand and clean the sides with a rag using the other hand.

The one area that was difficult to clean was the starboard quarter, which, as she is moored head to stern, is the one area of the hull the sun (when it does come out) doesn’t reach.

Now comes the time to get back on board. I had already realised that the sides of the boat aren’t high enough to support the bottom of the ladder – it slides away from me. My first attempt leaves me taking a wild clutch at the lifeline and falling back into the water – strike one.

Peggy moves the ladder towards the stern. I think it will be ok this time because I can grasp the stern rail. But the sheer is greater here and my legs go from under me. Not only that, the ladder slides off to one side. This time I am higher out of the water – (and I am not strong enough to hold on). The subsequent descent gave me a fine view of the bottom of the rudder – strike two.

The splash was also very effective and we have attracted the attention of several boats anchored nearby. Drinks are put down and binoculars come out (at least, that was the feeling I had in the back of my head). Better get it right this time.

We decide that we will try further forward as a last try. (Plan B is to swim to the next boat which does have a fold-down ladder). I notice that I broke the ladder when I pushed it sideways and it won’t hang straight.

However, it doesn’t fold under the hull so much, so up I go, clutching a stanchion, not a little tired, but desperate to make it out of the water. There is a critical moment when my arms are being wrenched out of their sockets and I feel myself going backwards, but I make one last heave (it’s amazing what you can do when you have to), put one foot quickly on deck then the other and then over the lifeline – trying to look nonchalant, but, in reality, rather discomfited – (more hurt pride, and realising my age).

The ladder no longer folds neatly, (although it is repairable), and is no longer on the boat.

Ever since, Peggy has been unable to stop laughing when telling the story and I do feel a tad foolish – but I’ve been there, done it, learnt from it, and now have a design for a proper ladder.

Lessons learnt?

  • Think through what you need before you buy. There was nothing inherently wrong with the ladder, except it was on the wrong boat.
  • Read the specifications first.
  • Respect the fact that getting back aboard is more difficult than you think – even for a relatively fit person.
  • A firm, fixed ladder is better than a flexible one – I wonder about the safety rope ladders that hang on the stern rail. I know about climbing rope ladders placing your feet on alternating sides, but this is difficult against the sides of a rolling boat.
  • Lifelines and stanchions are not designed for this purpose. Although, I have to say, my starboard lifelines have now been thoroughly tested. 🙂
  • If I have had trouble getting back into a low-sided boat, how much more difficult is it to get on board the higher-sided ones?
  • Practice. I am responsible for my own actions. Therefore I have a responsibility to myself, and those who are affected by my actions, to try things out first. In theory, the ladder should have worked – I was very pleased with the idea, (in fact, I was convinced it would work). In practice, it barely made it. In this case, I was wrong to rely on my intuition.
  • So, a reminder: “theory” is good but “practice” is better. You do need both and, at sea, you have to marry them together, (sometimes very, very quickly).