Having a Heron with a camping cover, I was quite happy for dinghy cruising, but having also a growing family who did not want to sit still, I decided to look elsewhere.

Over the next two or three years I worked out a ‘spec.’ of the boat that would fit my requirements.

1. It had to be easy to trail, and light enough to manage myself 2. Should have some fixed shelter, with reasonable headroom 3. A large enough cockpit to be able to sleep two under a cover 4. Suitable for canal cruising — my wife wanted to do this 5. Had to be reasonably cheap

After much research, I ended up looking at a 14’ Solent Jiffy, which is an O/B day cruiser in G.R.P. with a cuddy; not exactly the thing for the sailing purist, as many people pointed out. In fact, remarks were passed debating whether it would go about at all.

However, feeling convinced in my mind that it would sail reasonably, I sold the Heron and bought a hull and cuddy shell.

The mast was to be mounted on the cuddy top, and although it was quite strong at the back end, I realised that it needed reinforcement, so a loop was ‘glassed in’ of ¾” diameter steel tube (electrical conduit) around the cuddy top and down to the keel. To reinforce the foredeck to take the pull of forestay and bow cleat etc., I ‘glassed in’ a steel strip 1½” x ¾” from the cleat along and down the bow to the eye bolt in the bow. From the eye bolt two steel wires were bedded in down the chines to join the loop. The pull on the eye was thus spread over the hull.

The next stage was to build in waterproof seat/lockers in marine ply in the cuddy, side benches/lockers in the cockpit, daggerboard case, bridge deck, and bulkhead,

One rather nerve-wracking job was cutting the slot for the dagger board case (the case is offset from the keel as I did not like the idea of touching it). I measured the distance from the edge of the keel on the inside, then measured the same on the outside of the hull and drilled a pilot hole where I calculated the middle of the slot would be. Upon looking inside, the drill had just cleared the inside edge of the case: the keel was one inch wider on the outside.

Once I had fixed the seats, etc., bottom boards were made from 9mm ply, and things were looking quite hopeful. Hatch covers for the lockers were made lockable, as the cuddy is open at the back. I managed to obtain a mast, boom, yard and cotton sails for a very reasonable price second-hand, so had to slightly modify the sail plan to suit. The foresail was far too small (12½ sq.ft.). I wanted about 25 sq.ft., so bought a well-used cotton Enterprise foresail from the Sail Register; this being 33 sq. ft.; it was then cut down to size. A mast step was fitted on a ply pad on the top of the cuddy, and a removable strut was made to fit between the keel and the underside of the step as a ‘second line of defence’. I have used it, but have never seen any ‘bending’ when not using it.

The dagger board was made of two layers of 9mm ply glued and clenched together with copper nails.

Eventually, after much struggling, the day dawned when I could see if it sailed. The whole idea of the boat was to be as a motor-sailer, and I did not expect it to go to windward very well.

To help me launch it, a friend who could not swim said that he would risk it, and as he lived at Haslemere, I decided from past memories to drop it into Frensham Pond on a Friday afternoon from the car park. I did not take the outboard as they were not allowed, as far as I could remember. After picking him up on the day, we trailed up to the pond only to find that rails and notices stopped us from launching. We drove round to the sailing club in the hope that we could find someone and get a day ticket. No one was in sight, so after some debate we gave up all hope.

One of the men we spoke to was painting the hotel. “Hoping to launch, are you?” he said. “Yes,” I replied, “I was hoping to try it out under sail.” “I’ve never seen one like that with sails,” he muttered.

My hopes, which by this time were rather low, descended even further. After talking it over, we decided that we just had time to drive down to Chichester Harbour, drop it in for a time, and get back to our respective homes in time for my wife to go on night duty.

Eddy decided that he would take the risk. Upon reaching Itchenor, I stopped to pay the harbour dues at the chandler’s. “I’m just going to put it in for an hour or so to try it out under sail,” I said, as he filled in the ticket. He looked up and out of the window. “I’ve never seen one like that with sails before,” he remarked, handing over the ticket.

My hopes had now hit rock bottom. I was convinced that the thing would not even go about, much less sail up to windward. With foreboding, I started to rig her up on the hard. Next to us was a large American car with a 22’ Rival on a close-coupled trailer. The two men on it had just stepped its mast. One called across as I lifted my 11’ mast onto the step: “I think it’s much easier to step your mast than this one.” I agreed, but remarked: “The thing is, will it sail? That’s the big question.” “Of course it will sail!” he cried. “Why shouldn’t it?”

My hopes moved up rapidly to a higher level, but the doubts persisted. The wind was SE, force 2-3: just ideal to try it, so we set off. At the first chance, I let go of the tiller and waited. Slowly the bow crept up into the wind. I put the helm over and she went about. I felt ten years younger, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Now I felt more confident. “How about going up the Bosham channel, Eddy?” I asked. “Yes, all right with me,” he replied.

As we turned into the channel we had the wind and tide behind us. This was great. She was sailing well. I looked at my watch. Time was running out. “We shall have to go back, Eddy,” I cried, as we were just round the corner after Cobnor. “Oh, that means a beat against wind and tide… and no outboard!”

The truth hit me: the one position where I did not expect the boat to sail very well. We tried, and although it was not quite as easy as the Heron, she beat very well. She needed to be sailed round rather than slamming the helm over. As we came to the junction, the time was getting very short, so as the wind was abaft the beam then, I pulled the daggerboard up and skated across the shallows with the lifting rudder blade doing the rumba on the bottom. Once in the Itchenor channel we breathed yet one more sigh of relief, and headed for home.

I am still working on her. There are only a few things left to do — mainly odds and ends such as navigation lights, bunk cushions etc. I have had a weekend singlehanded in the Walton backwaters, and joined the East Head rally in June, amongst other trips. Up to now, I have slept three in her. (I now have a cockpit cover, so I can sleep on extensions to the seats). When it is finished, I hope to be able to sleep two in the cockpit and our three children in the cuddy for an odd night, but I feel that under those conditions you need to be moored alongside a bank so that some of the crew can overspill until the beds are fixed.

The finished weight is around 400-430 lbs, sail area 90 sq.ft., beam 5’9”, standing headroom 4’, sitting approx. 3’2”, length of cockpit (for sleeping) 5’10”.

During the weekend at Walton, the useful fact was discovered that it will sail very well up to windward and go about quite happily without the foresail. As this has roller furling, it is a very quick and easy way of reducing sail. Later on that day, I needed to take advantage of this fact when a heavy squall came up and tried to turn her over.

Synøve is not fast, and most people would say that she is boring to sail, but for weekend cruising and pottering around estuaries with small children who can move about and can stay in the cuddy when it is a bit ‘hairy’, I find her just what I wanted.