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. 

On Steeple Point – Memory of the Sea 2

/ Bill

DSC04276

Aged twelve, on another beach, body surfing on the residue of some distant storm. A wave begins to swell and move swiftly towards the shore. I sense it will break just after it reaches me. As I feel the water begin to lift me, I launch myself. But, starting too soon and swimming too weakly for this particular wave, I feel myself tipped forward and dumped headlong into the water. A quick breath before submerging, I bounce on the sandy bottom only to be rolled over and over. Eyes wide open, I relax and see the frothy surface many feet above me and the sun shining through the water. I feel calm, enjoying the tremendous strength of the wave buffeting me. I know it will move on. Pushing to the surface, I gasp for breath and see its frothy peak speeding away to waste itself on the distant beach. I turn to find the next wave almost on me. A deep breath and a dive, dolphin-like, beneath it. Meeting its energy head on, my body is buffeted again, but this time I am in charge and it washes swiftly over me, leaving me to resurface and prepare to surf again. Have I mastered the sea in those years? No, only myself in this one situation. To the sea I will always be insignificant – just flotsam and jetsam. As years go by, I will learn different ways of relating to it, but the sea is the sea . . . is the sea . . . is the sea . . . is the sea . . .

On Steeple Point – Memory of the Sea 1

/ Bill

We had a great sail on Saturday – one leg being a long beam reach out to sea to a point well south of the Mewstone. The sea was a little lumpy and had taken on a deep greeny blue colour in the sunshine. For me, this was just perfect. My crew had different opinions as to the state of the sea and I started wondering why I liked it so much – where did it come from? A couple of early memories came to mind and I hope to recall a few more over time.

Memory of the Sea 1Aged 2, on the beach. A lone rock stands out in the sand, a pool has formed around it. It seemed deep to me then.

Feeling wet sand between my toes, I stand on the water’s edge, watching ripples on the surface reflected on the sand below. They drift across the water in wavy lines, dissolving into the rock beyond. Shiny seaweed, with the bubbles of sticky liquid that burst over your fingers when pressed, wave back in the clear seawater. I am entranced. The sun shines hot on my back and all is childly contentment. All at once, I am tumbling in the pool, mouth wide open sucking in water, eyes smarting with water and salt. I cry out only to take in more water. A stray wave, for that is what it is, bounces me onto the sand and rolls me over and over. I see sand, then frothy white bubbles, then blue sky as I hit the surface and then the bottom as I am sucked down again. The rock comes towards me. I flail legs and arms, and fail to find my feet. All is water. The helplessness is overwhelming. Suddenly, bright sunlight, nose running with seawater, mouth coughing, spluttering, dribbling, throat hurting, eyes stinging, Mum’s comforting arms around me, my chin on her shoulder – a brief moment of peace. Concerned faces appear behind her, relieved smiles, then laughter apparently at my misfortune. And the tears flow – not just with my own fear, but more with frustration, indignation, embarrassment and humiliation at the unfair laughter. Yes, it was all there – aged two, and remembered today, 56 years later . . . as if it happened this morning.
End of the Wave

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.

The Centre of Attention

/ Bill / 1 Comment

Launch Day 1

The basics (quoted from the survey):

Blue Mistress is a Folksong class of auxiliary sailing yacht.  The Folksong is one of a number of grp derivatives of the original Folkboat design of the 1940’s.  She was apparently launched in 1988 based on grp hull and deck mouldings produced in 1984. Features include grp construction, `Folkboat’ hull form, Bermudan sloop rig with a four berth accommodation.Primary dimensions are approx:

  Imperial (Feet) Metric (Metres)
length OA 25’2” 7.67m
length WL 19’8” 5.99m
beam 7’3” 2.21m
draft 3’9” 1.14m

Those words and numbers do not begin to tell the excitement of the launch and that magic moment when Blue Mistress touched the water. As this blog grows, I hope to do justice to the boat and the pleasure of sharing her with my family and friends.

Why this blog?

/ Bill

First Sail

  • To share an elegant boat with owners of Folksong 25s and similar boats
  • To record one journey that started when I was a child and only now is beginning to take a definitive shape
  • To write about the sea as a personal experience