sailing

The spray hood needs repairing

/ Bill

The cold/flu, or whatever it was, is finally leaving me and I am beginning to think clearly again.

Spent a very pleasant few hours on board this morning “messing about”. Bright sunshine and enough wind to dry the boat out with both hatches open.

I removed the spray hood and have taken it to the sailmakers for repairs.

There are two problems with this spray hood. Firstly, I am pretty sure it wasn’t designed for Blue Mistress. Particularly irksome is the fact that the retaining straps are in the wrong place, especially the starboard one – (see below. In the image the forepart is unhooked). Guess where it has ripped.

Spray Hood

Secondly, the main sheet track stretches the full width of the forepart of the cockpit. This means that when the sheet is pulled in tight, it can chafe the after edge of the spray hood. I don’t normally sail with the hood up, but did need it on a couple of memorable occasions. That’s when I discovered the chafing.

Most of the damage was done on the mooring during rough weather. The main sheet came adrift allowing the boom to swing. My fault, I should have double-checked before going ashore.

I have now attached the main sheet on the end boom ring, and am watching the track to be sure that it takes the different angle.

The hood will need to be reinforced, with an extra ‘gusset’ on the starboard side, and we’re considering a pvc strip which will allow the sheet to slide more easily if the same situation arises again.

The End of the Honeymoon

/ Bill / 1 Comment

Blue Mistress is in her winter berth following a short voyage – (short story to come later), and the honeymoon is over.

First Sail

Bought in May, put on the water in July, this is the boat I have always wanted.

The excitement has been in discovering the pluses I knew would be there. Speed wasn’t the issue. I wanted her to sail well in a sea, to hold a course, to sail consistently under a reefed mainsail, to be easy to sail myself and so enjoy different crews of different experience, although she would be too small to live aboard, to have sufficient accommodation to spend several days cruising along the coast.

Many family and friends, (but not all yet), have spent time on board. We have been to Fowey (in a blow) and back, and I have been out to the Eddystone solo, (no Katie Miller but good enough for me). In the past three months, we have hoisted every sail in most conditions (no full gales), and motored in flat calm across a breathless sea.

I have revised old navigation skills, looked to my seamanship, obtained a Short Range Certificate and have come to realise that I have seriously underestimated the advance of technology in sailing. I have picked up a mooring solo in a fast spring tide, (as well as failing to do so and having to come round again). And I have found myself wanting in many areas.

After the honeymoon, comes the reality:

1. The details that don’t live up to expectations – Why does the depth sounder consistently fail to register depth? Why is the starboard lower shroud anchored with a different bottle screw to the other shrouds? Where is the leak in the deck coming from?(if it’s not sea, it’s rain I worry about!) The spray hood needs repairing. And the main sheet track needs rethinking.There’s a long list.

2. And I didn’t buy a boat to spend time sailing aimlessly, however good that can sometimes be.  There are modifications to the accommodation that would be allow me to write on board and practice my photography – perhaps more chart space. And a sturdier engine box/step to the main hatch. And a whole range of technology to research.

3. And as much as I enjoy sailing in Plymouth, would we be better based further east along the coast, nearer home? Just a  thought.

We will be in the water for most of the winter and there’s more sailing to come. So Phase Two looks to be full of interest, ups and downs, and a lot of fun.

Whatever the future holds, for sheer rush, it will be hard to beat that moment when Blue Mistress’ keel first touched the water.

Launch Day 2

The Skipper and his/her Technology

/ Bill

I’ve been looking at the skippers and their boats in La Route du Rhum which starts later today, and thinking about what being single-handed must mean to them in the light of the PR and media circus that constantly crowds them.

Most of the boats are marvels of modern technology. But it seems to me that, in many cases, the technology has taken charge. 

I want to believe that the skippers are greater than the technology that drives their boats. Surely, for each one of them, there is a human element of self-reliance that reaches beyond it.

It’s not that technology itself that is the problem. Indeed technology is responsible for pushing back all sorts of boundaries. And certainly the idea is long outdated that all the technology you need is Robin Knox Johnson’s barometer, borrowed from the pub on his first voyage.

No, it’s something else. It’s the attitude that got him to the finish that is surely still vital, and the determination to get there using all the tools at his disposal.

What concerns me, in my rather naive way, is that, because all this technology exists, plus the constant pressure to get there faster than anyone else, it has become imperative to have it, together with the technological expertise, teamwork and huge expense needed to make it happen. 

In modern single-handed racing, it is now very much the case of the skipper and his/her technology and his/her team. Each has to rely on the other.

I admire these racing skippers immensely and am following them daily with envy. I can’t begin to emulate the skills they are showing.

However, I can’t be the only one who took his hat off to Knox-Johnson starting the Velux5 Ocean Race with a reefed mainsail. That can’t have been in the television script which required corporate logos in full sail! But, given what came later, it was a good decision.

So maybe he showed that I am wrong. In a small way, he demonstrated that, with everything else that was going on, the boat and everything in it really was in the hands of the skipper, and it’s just unfortunate that this fact sometimes gets lost in the hullabaloo of PR.

The Ceres

/ Bill / 1 Comment

On Saturday, I was at Bude Museum to leave some old photographs of the town. These came from a time when the photographer would make a postcard out of his/her photographs in order to sell them. So he/she would  produce sets around a particular subject, e.g. a building or an event or whatever.

I am ashamed to say that it is over twenty years since I was last in the museum. The subjects are, of course, familiar (as Bude is the place I was born) and they brought back good memories.

Specifically, there is a display based around the Ceres.

The Ceres was originally an Azores smack, built in Salcombe in 1811. She was bought by the Pethericks in 1856 and was in our family for five generations. In 1868, she was lengthened to 64ft and converted into a ketch, registered as 52 tons. She traded in the Bristol Channel and beyond.

On 24th November, 1937, she sprang a leak and went down off Baggy Point in Bideford Bay. At the time, she was the oldest boat on Lloyds Register.

Now, imagine this. I am talking about a boat that began life during the Peninsular War -(she carried arms supplies to the troops in Spain); sailed while the Battle of Waterloo was being fought, was over twenty five years old when Victoria came to the throne; was trading through the Crimean War, the American Civil War, the First World War, the discovery of electricity, the first motor car, the first aeroplane,  the first film.

When I was a small boy, my grandfather, who sailed in her as owner and skipper whenever he could , would speak of the Ceres with unquenchable enthusiasm. I didn’t know what was happening at the time, but I learnt ‘enthusiasm’ from him.

It was the sailing, and the ports they entered under sail alone that made it for him. 

Entering Bude through the surf

Bude is one such case.  On the North Cornish coast, facing west towards Newfoundland, the Atlantic rollers piling onto its beaches, Bude has a difficult entrance in most weathers.

There is a painting by John Chancellor of the Ceres “Taking Bude After A Blow”. He has depicted her passing close to Barrel Rock, with a large wave passing under her, her bowsprit in the air. As in the image above, she is carrying main and mizzen sails and two foresails. The wind is from the South West, meaning she is on a broad reach, but it also means the surf is breaking on the rocks beside her. The sky is overcast. Her small crew are completely concentrated on every shift in movement of wind, boat and sea.

She is about to ’round the barrel’ and come under the shelter of Chapel Rock and the Breakwater, where the crew will downsails and her lines will be taken by men in rowing boats – the hobblers -who will lead her to a mooring in the river or to the sea lock at the entrance to Bude Canal.

Ceres

If she stays on the mooring, the tide will drop and leave her high and dry. Horse-drawn carts will come onto the beach, and the crew will crane her cargo onto the carts using the main boom as a crane. She may load a small cargo on this tide as well.

The tide will come in and, the weather being favourable and the sea reasonably flat, she will, with the help of the hobblers and her own sails, go back to sea and make up the Bristol Channel towards Swansea or perhaps down Channel towards Trevose Head and beyond.

Nowadays, we sail for pleasure and use our engines at will; and we avoid the conditions that, less than a hundred years ago, those who made an engineless living from the sea took on daily. They had no chart plotters, gps, weather forecasts – faxed, texted or otherwise, no DSC/VHF.

As I write this, I find that I have no nostalgia for their difficulties, or wish to repeat them, but I do have an unquenchable enthusiasm for the attitudes that drove them to take those challenges on in the first place.

This is one of a number of posts on the Ketch “Ceres”. They have been presented in a random order as and when I have found, or been given, new material. They represent steps in a personal quest to find out more about one branch of my family.

If you are interested in maritime history or would like to read more, please use the Search facility at the top right hand side of this page (‘Ceres’). If this is not available on your current screen, then click on ‘Bill’s Boat Blog’ – (or the title of this entry, then ‘Bill’s Boat Blog’), to be taken to the correct page.

Why this blog? 2

/ Bill / 1 Comment

Three weeks on, it’s time to review what I am doing.

Are there any benefits to this blog? I think there are three:

1. For you, someone else’s blog is a stepping stone. Yes, you might be interested in the subject and the writing strikes a particular chord in you – so you make a point of following the feed. (For details of how to do this, see below*).

More usefully, there are a number of links on this page that will take you to new places and new ideas. How you deal with this is up to you – I’ve certainly given you several directions to go in, and, over time, there will be more.

2. For me, I am actively looking for the owners of Folksong 25s, wherever they are. There is work I would like to do on Blue Mistress and it would be helpful and interesting to talk with people who have detailed knowledge.

At the same time, the writing itself is a personal inquiry. As I write, I learn more about what I can and cannot do. For example, mentioning Robin Knox-Johnson yesterday has shown me just how far behind I really am – (rather more challenging than depressing!).

3. For those who think that writing a blog is a waste of space and you can only learn by doing, I would say that you are wrong about the former and right about the latter. Given a choice between sailing and writing, I would opt for doing both! Get a life, guys, there’s more to it than you know.

* If you want to be notified every time a new blog is posted, got to the Blogline website, and follow the instructions to download the simple piece of software. You will then be able to add and organise any number of blogs that interest you. A small pop-up message will appear at the bottom of your screen when a new blog is posted. Clicking on the icon wil take you to your Blogline feeds.

Technology or People?

/ Bill

In 1969, I watched Robin Knox-Johnson on television, entering Falmouth at the end of his single-handed circumnavigation.

Like many other people, I was hugely impressd by this feat. 37 years later I have bought  a boat. (No excuses – just facts).

This week, like many others again, I have watched him again on the television, preparing to sail solo again – in the Velux 5Oceans race.

This time, we will be able to closely follow his course and that of Mike Golding and the other six competitors. The major difference between 1969 and now is in the technology available. But, in this race, the human element is more important – and experience a huge advantage.

I suspect most of the preparation has been spent in the exhausting task of fiddling with the technology (electronic and otherwise), and certainly the reporting of it gives it far more respect. However, as you watch, forget the technology, keep an eye on the skippers – they are what makes this race.

We wish them swift passages, sound landfalls and a safe return.

The Eddystone Lighthouse

/ Bill

On Friday, I sailed to the Eddystone Lighthouse. The Inshore Waters forecast reads:Lyme Regis to Lands End including the Isles of Scilly.
24 hour forecast:
Wind: west 4 or 5, backing southeast 3 or 4.
Weather: fair.
Visibility: good.Sea
State: moderate becoming slight.  The Eddystone is west of south out of Plymouth, some 10 miles off Rame Head. The gps says it’s 24.2 nautical miles from Blue Mistress’ mooring to a point one mile eastward of the light and back.A steady south east wind means a close reach out and a broader reach home.It’s a great day to go, if you start early.  I start late, dropping the mooring at 1220 on a falling tide. The clouds are beginning to clear.The wind is heading me up the Tamar, so, to make up some time, I motor into Plymouth Sound, passing across the ‘bridge’, the narrow passage that spans the shallows west of Drake Island. I set sail immediately, pleased to shut down the engine. It feels like cheating to motor the previous 2 miles. Second error, on the mooring, I rigged the working foresail. It seemed right at the time, but, now we are sailing, it is obviously too small and heavy for the wind. It takes Blue Mistress across the Sound and out to sea but too slowly. I will have a good sail, but I won’t make the Eddystone and back by dark.I delay changing to the lighter jenny to watch Brittany Ferries’ Pont Aven to pass. There is no clue to whether it is heading for Roscoff or Santander.Third error, perhaps less of one, I am too close and she takes our wind – but not till she is at least a quarter mile passed us. We roll and flap for a while in the turbulence and she swings swiftly on her way – oblivious. 

Fourth error, I have forgotten to rig the jack lines, which I only remember when I am in the bow changing headsails. The swell is not particularly uncomfortable, but there is always a point at which the voice on your shoulder reminds you – mine can be quite strident sometimes, like an overexcited parrot! But the jenny makes all the difference; we romp along at over 5 knots, into the sun, with the lighthouse visible on the horizon. Now it’s a question of will we be able to get there and back before dark? I set a time of 1530 to turn for home. 6 knots

Fifth error, or rather, a problem. I can’t get the autohelm to maintain a course, which is ridiculous because it’s always been fine before. Is it Murphy’s Law that says that if something can go wrong, it will? I drop all ideas of doing those useful “little jobs about the boat” and settle down to sail her myself. And what a fantastic afternoon’s sail – straight out to sea, a clear blue sky, a slight swell and enough wind to carry us along merrily. Her Majesty’s navy was on exercise when we left, but disappeared after an hour or so. There were a couple of other yachts heading for Plymouth and two or three fishing boats and that was all. Behind me, I could see far down the coast of Cornwall to the west and along the Devon coast to the east The Eddystone Lighthouse

At 1540, the lighthouse bore due West, 1 mile, (how good timing was that?),and we turned for home, increasing our speed to an average of over 5.5 knots to be back in the Sound a half hour ahead of time.    

We goose-winged gently up the Tamar on a dying wind as the sun set ahead of us over Cornwall and, having picked up the mooring and set the boat right, I rowed ashore in the gathering gloom. 

I wrote this with the thought that I would just state the facts (that parrot again), but I cannot avoid the romance of it. I am sure it means little to anyone else, but I find it difficult to write this without a leap in my heart – on Friday, I sailed to the Eddystone Light. 

What’s Your Sport?

/ Bill

“What’s your sport?”

“Sorry?”

“What your sport. Mine’s golf, what’s yours?”

“Well, I like to sail. I’ve got a boat.”

“Like to race around the buoys do you. That’s too much water for me.”

And off he went, leaving me thinking, “Sport? Why not Leisure activity? Or that awful phrase ‘lifestyle choice’? Do we have to categorise everything these days?”

But he has got me wondering why I sail – or, more precisely, why have I come back to sailing?

For a start, ‘sport’ seems to be the wrong word. I do have a competitive streak but that’s not it. Sailing for me is less about Formula One racing and more about mountaineering, less about competitiveness and more about self-reliance.

Sailing has been described as an act of constant motion in a confined space in the presence of a vast quantity of water. In that confined space, a range of knowledge, skills and attitudes have to be concentrated into a fluid mix of activities.

To go to sea is to trust in your own ability to master those activities, and, whether you like it or not, to continually test that trust.

As things stand for me at the moment, I know some of those activities well and am reasonably good at them, some I am coming back to after thirty years and am enjoying relearning and some I am plain ignorant about and discovering the hard way.

In the past few months, have I been anxious, irritated, disappointed, embarrassed, fearful and angry – shocked even? Yes, briefly all of those, but I expect these to be part of a right of passage. There is something more – the passage is to a deeper understanding that will surprise you or me one sunny day, when the sea sparkles and the wind freshens on your cheek. You will listen to the swish of the wake increasing astern, watch the sails curving above and feel the pull on the tiller as the boat heels gently and the bow rises to the swell of the sea. It won’t happen often, but it will lift the heart and satisfy the soul, because you will know for sure that, today at least, you have earned the right to be right here, right now.

And, in the meantime, everything is part way to achieving that. So we learn about, and enjoy, the sea, and the weather, and weather forecasts, and navigation, and navigation aids like logs and depth sounders and gps and chartplotters, and sails, and ropes, and rigging, and safety, and moorings, and marinas, and engines, and design, and electronics, and radios, and materials like wood and grp and paint and antifouling and glues, and repairs and renewals, and chandleries, and boatyards, and people and crew and leadership and management and preparation, and on and on.

Is that a romantic vision? Of course it is. Does it fit in with the attitudes of some of the characters I have met who sail also? For some, definitely not – on the surface at least! But it is there in others.

I am sure there are many other sports, leisure activities, lifestyle choices that offer similar journeys.

That’s fine, but I choose to sail.