August 1976 found my wife Jill, three daughters aged 15, 12 and 10 and myself at Seaview IOW. We had borrowed a house belonging to some friends, the house being made available because the wife — conveniently for us — was away having a baby. We were also allowed to use her Mirror dinghy, which was very trusting of her, especially as my total sailing experience amounted to only 5 hours of lessons from a bikini-clad blonde Amazon in a Bosun at Padstow the previous summer.

After sailing the Mirror for four days and finding it rather cramped (I am over 6’ tall — my head always seemed to be in contact with the boom and my backside with the tiller) I walked past Warren’s boatyard and saw her and had to have her, with her gleaming varnish and broad beam. My wife says she is more of a mistress than a boat. She is 12’ LOA, with a scow-shaped stem, 5’ 3” beam — mahogany clinker with a foredeck which, while not stopping spray coming aboard, gives us good dry stowage. She has a heavy metal centreplate and a lifting metal rudder blade, the handling of which I have improved by fixing a jamming cleat, thus enabling me to lower the rudder blade gradually when launching in shallow water. Everything about her is simple but solid, from the brass mast gate to her Sampson post to her rudder pintle. She has two tillers: one short — which is ideal for when the whole family is sailing, especially when going about — and one long, to which I have added an extension for sailing singlehanded or with a crew of one.

Her broad beam and metal centreplate make her extremely stable, which was one of the more practical reasons for buying her, as I felt we needed a boat that would look after us. She passes Eric Coleman’s stability test with flying colours as, with 2 adults (24 stone) sitting on the gunwale, she still does not ship water, or show any sign of capsizing. She demonstrated this at Overy Staithe this summer when we were caught out, along with many others, in a sudden squall force 6 gusting 7, according to the local boatmen. By reefing and changing to the small jib, we were one of only 3 dinghies that sailed back under their own steam — the others, many of which had capsized, had to be towed back by various rescue craft. The credit went to the boat, not to us, but had one beneficial effect — it gave my wife confidence, and encouraged her to get up at 7 a.m. on the last two mornings of our holiday to catch the 8 o’clock tide.

She is Bermudan rigged, with mast height 20’ 9”, stepped on the keel. Her mainsail is 68 sq. ft. approx., and she has a small jib of 17 sq. ft. I have had a large jib — 30 sq. ft. — made, which I find very worthwhile when reaching or running in light airs. Her overall performance is very similar to a Mirror dinghy.

Her wide beam and high freeboard also means that she is extremely commodious, and with two children on the thwart and the other three members of the family on the side benches, she makes an ideal daysailer. It is in this capacity that we have used her in our first year of sailing. We have ventured up the Colne, the Blackwater, and on the Thames estuary at Leigh-on-Sea. We have enjoyed a wet weekend on the Beaulieu River, have endured the 24 hour 3 rivers race on the Norfolk Broads, as well as spending a delightful, windy two weeks at Overy Staithe on the Norfolk coast, where the fast flowing tidal streams and sandbanks posed many interesting but safe problems.

We have, however, had a boom tent cover made by Turridge of Leigh-on-Sea (who also made our jib) which is a cross between the suggestions made in John Glasspool’s and Eric Coleman’s respective books. My middle daughter and I tried it out on a Saturday night at the end of the summer, on the Blackwater, where it provided good shelter despite being subjected to high winds. Nevertheless, we learnt some other basic lessons on that occasion. For, having tied up to the supports of a pier-like structure, we crept ashore to have some supper at a local bar. On our return we found that the water level had fallen by some 6 feet, leaving the bow of the dinghy suspended from the pier. Having untied the warp to let the bow settle on the mud, the boat was then too far below the pier to jump down upon. So the only solution was to scramble back along the supports under the pier, and make our way over 30’ of evil smelling Blackwater mud to the boat. After going about 15’, we sank down above our knees; then, when trying to extract one foot, I lost a sailing boot, and to recover that I had to sit down on the mud while my daughter rolled around with laughter. You can imagine the scene. We looked like a couple of mud wrestlers that perform at some rather dubious nightclub. The only answer was to crawl back to the shore, find a convenient loo to wash in, and then build a series of stepping stones from driftwood to the boat. Typical example of some of the mishaps we experienced during our first year of cruising — but all good fun.

Osprey was built by Mr Warren of Seaview. He tells me he built 6 or 7 of this type between 1950 and 1960. She is a sort of first cousin to the Seaview dinghies, but differs in being broader in the beam and having a half deck. As someone said at our local club, she is a real boat, and I could certainly recommend the design as an ideal cruising dinghy: stable and roomy, yet easily launched by two people from a trailer — but I am, of course, unashamedly a traditionalist and lover of wooden boats.

Footnote: I believe that Mr Warren, boatbuilder, Seaview, has one for sale. She is built of elm and painted outside. Seaview 2333.