Present: Eric & Joan Abrams

A lightweight dinghy with a middle-aged heavyweight crew and no facilities on board for cooking or sleeping is not the Dinghy Cruising Association’s notion of a safe craft. So we went along to one of the North-West rallies, at Bala Lake. A telephone chat with Brian Haskins and with Joan Abrams established that usually the rallies gathered around Llangower Point. Right, we said, we shall meet there.

There is a very handy camping site right on the point. It belongs to a helpful farmer*, and although it lacks sanitation and chemical disposal point and the water point is some distance away, it is nevertheless a popular site with the sailing fraternity. We could join the rally there and hang around quite comfortably while gathering a few wrinkles on this cruising lark. We would see what constitutes a safe and comfortable dinghy, manageable by a middle-aged, unmanageable crew.

But the morning slowly dawned through a thick mist which clung to the Cheshire countryside like bill-poster’s glue. Nobody would turn up at Bala in this, we thought, and set off to prove that sailors are as mad as they are made out to be. We found that we could make reasonable progress, although 40 mph seemed to be the maximum. Until we crossed the Welsh border. Here the sun came out. Let me repeat that for those EnglishfoIk who are meteorologically incapable of believing it — the sun came out on the Welsh border and thoroughly dissipated the English mist.

WELSH INTERNATIONAL MOTH CHAMPIONSHIPS read the sign at the entrance to the field at Llangower. Over the extremely humped back railway bridge we saw the cloud of fluttering Moths about to chase each other over the water and take home pot or two — or none, and sulk over the virgin wastes of their sideboards. Somewhere through the melee of crack helmsmen and woman we launched our dinghy** and ran up the Cruising Association’s burgee. No one else displayed a similar flag, but we expected them to happen along later. We sat off, deciding to sail up the lake to Llanuwchllyn and turn in to Glanllyn, come about, and dawdle along the length of the lake to Bala where the crew was beginning to insist, in the manner of crews, that we should have a cup of tea. Thus we had two objectives: to show the flag to other cruising dinghies and to refresh the crew.

The afternoon sun was beating through our Henri-Lloyds and the run down to Bala was uneventful and pleasant. Halfway down the lake we spotted a clinker dinghy following us and looking very nautical with a fast bow wave and tan sails, gaff rigged, of course. We replied to a cheery wave, but there was no blue and yellow triangle at the masthead, so we took no further notice, except occasionally to observe that we still had a shadow but that it was at a safe distance and courses were not converging. Llanycil church was passed and we were on the lookout for a landing place on the lee shore; luckily there was a stone jetty hung around with thick tyres but standing in shallow water that required skilful boat-handling with the centreplate up.

An imperceptible bump, and we were ashore, at the same time that another dinghy drew up, just as imperceptibly, and said, “Hullo.” “Hullo,” we said, “you must be the Dinghy Cruising Association rally.” “Yes, I’m Joan Abrams.”

We had, then, shown the flag, and it was now time to refresh the crew and digest the rudiments and skills of cruising in a dinghy, which is obviously very skilled indeed, for there were ropes everywhere in Joan’s wee boat, and oilskins and hooks and shockcords and spray dodgers and oars and lockers full of cooking stoves, tool sets, and food and clothing. It seemed to us as complete a miniature of a rundown, overworked Scottish fishing smack as you could wish to see. But, obviously, like the Ayrshire fisherman, it all worked, and Joan was equally obviously the one to make it all work.

But, of course, none of this was said; it was marked, learned, and inwardly digested, and after a cup of tea and what was described as an Eccles cake in the cafe, our boats set off back up the lake in case Brian was waiting at Llangower for a sail.

The return was, like the run down, uneventful — except that the sun went in and pullovers came out. Although ours was the lightweight dinghy, there was little to choose in our arrival times. Joan’s 11’ Tideway was on our Graduate heels, and Brian was no more than two minutes in finding us. Joan took him for a wee hurl up the lake, as they say, and we kept them company.

By now, dusk was upon us; the Moths had settled down for the night, and we got our boats on their trailers. We left ours with friends camped on the foreshore while we sought shelter for the night in a friendly farmhouse*** (for the crew had been complaining all week about her bad back); Brian and Joan took to the road and returned to the north-west. And the rally was over — a curious meeting of sailing minds with just a few prejudices showing above water, but so clearly marked that we could sail on comfortably in our ignorance. And enjoy a glorious day in the sun.

The following day, as we dropped down from the hills above Bala in a force four with very strong gusts, we saw the lightweight racing dinghies capsizing every few minutes, literally, and the Moths never even took off (although one tried and tried and tried but succeeded only in capsizing) and we reefed right down and stuck to the bay until the wind died — which it did almost at the moment that we launched — when we took to the open water and flew up to Glanllyn and flew back. A friend on shore had volunteered as crew, after recommendation, and his two children had a trip round the bay which sent them into ecstasies of reproachful delight. Poor dad; he now has to finish the Mirror in his garage. We have to think about making a pair of oars, and fashioning a longer jibstick.

Mr G J Roberts, Pant-yr-Onen, Bala 415

Leading details of the Graduate: overall length: 12’ 6” waterline length: 12’ approx beam: 4’ 7’ average draft: 8” centreboard up 4’ 2” centreboard down total sail area 83½ sq ft (measured area excluding roach on mainsail) Bermudan mainsail of fairly high aspect ratio hull weight of new boat (with centreboard) 185 lbs hard chine and of frameless construction bottom planking 6mm

Mrs Mary Jones, Gelli Grin, Bala 476

And if you want a good meal ring Mrs Elizabeth Bugby at Bryncaled by Llanuwchllyn (Llanuwchllyn 270) the night before and you’ll not be disappointed. Buy your own wine. The Eagles at Llanuwchllyn is a good pub, but go in by the back door.