INTRODUCING BLESS YOU

Bless You, my Kestrel dinghy no. 965, was so christened by Carol when I showed it to her on my trailer after purchase. I had recently given up my Enterprise, built some 11 years previously in my garage and named Atishoo. ‘A boat not to be sneezed at’, was my story, but really so called because of having a delicate nose lining which is inclined to twitch as a result of much sanding. Bless You seemed an appropriate follow-up. Subsequently I have had much reason to bless her as she has provided me with much recreation, ranging from sunbathing across a thwart in gentle airs, to vigorous planing with three-up and water spraying all over the place.

The summer of 1974 had taught us much about high wind, heavy weather sailing, but had effectively prevented any cruising. One of the reasons for choosing the Kestrel had been its stability with a heavy centreboard. She also has a degree of comfort and space not found on Atishoo and, as I subsequently found, is a dry boat, easily driven in most winds and seas.

The frustrations of 1974 were somewhat assuaged by attending evening classes during the winter at which chart work, navigation, tide tables and weather had been studied and discussed. The chart covering the Solent had been scanned many times, while Creeks and Harbours of the Solent, by Adlard Coles, was constant bedtime reading.

I realised from past experience that the difference in view of a chart, and from four feet above water level, is not just 90º, it is an incredibly different perspective in which distances change dramatically and marks such as buoys have habits of magically moving their positions, performing disappearing tricks that would be the envy of a conjuror.

If I could not see things from the sea, I could explore the view from the edge. This idea prompted me to spend a spring holiday on the north coast of the Isle of Wight. The walk took me from Ryde along to Wootton, much of it along the beach, until a path lead through the abbey grounds to Wootton Bridge. The creek at high tide looked interesting. One night spent at East Cowes enabled that estuary to be surveyed with care. The chart enabled lights to be fixed. Next morning over to West Cowes; a quick exploration of piers and yacht clubs and lunch on the prom while the glistening QE2 came from behind Calshot and proceeded to show both sides and a magnificent head view before gathering speed as she headed east.

Cheating somewhat I bussed to Yarmouth and here my studies of the book enabled me to fix it in my mind. The night was spent at Freshwater, a more inhospitable coast and a change in sea tempo which indicated that any journey beyond the Needles would need careful preparation.

Next morning I walked the Downs until I was next to Tennyson’s memorial, there to wonder at the inspiration and effort of people who conveyed such massive lumps of granite to such a place. The high point enabled me to study the Needles, Hurst Castle, sundry races in between, and back in the shelter of the Spit, racing of another sort off Lymington. Here Class 1 boats could be clearly distinguished through my glasses, the ferry with its white tracks to and fro, and in the distance through the haze, Fawley chimney.

The ferry journey in sun and chill wind made me realise how lucky we were at Netley — 420s had a mile to sail before they even got near the starting line. Mind you, with a beam wind they seemed to fly from wave top to wave top with only the last 3 ft of the boats touching the water.

Saturday evening in Lymington found me in position watching the boats return from the day’s racing. Some performed with grace, dignity and split-second timing. Others performed as if they had a barge with only a sweep to control them. Bigger boats evidently did not mean better sailors.

With certain envy I turned my back on Lymington and walked to the River Beaulieu at Bucklers Hard. This was not as interesting as I had expected and I soon departed by footpath to Beaulieu. Much of the route was near the river and fleeting glimpses of moored yachts and elegant houses set along the tree-lined river suggested that it would be a delight to sail up it given the right tide and even wind. The soggy ground could not depress my spirits as I entered Beaulieu, but I did realise the need to arrive on the flood and leave on the ebb: six inches of water is tricky, even with a Kestrel.

I had not reckoned on Beaulieu being so isolated for public transport and my journey to Brockenhurst to catch the coach home had to be continued on shanks’s pony. I must admit the mile from the bus stop at Twickenham that night was a slow one.

I had seen; I had discovered; would I be able to explore by boat? Bless You was still in the front garden while I completed the winter overhaul. I knew the boat was strong, the rigging safe and all fittings examined. I had a storm, or cruising main, as well as full main, genoa and jib. I also had a spinnaker, only tried twice during the previous summer. I had fitted a small compass which, with a chart on board, should help in finding marks and be of assistance if a sea mist suddenly descended. There was plenty of stowage space up front for food baskets, spare clothes and the other comforts conducive to happy sailing.

I reckoned that my experience in Bless You in my three years with Netley, plus my evening class knowledge, together with the views of the Solent from the island, should be enough to enable me to begin exploring. I had two good crew members in Carol and Caroline, both happy, industrious, capable of a laugh, a smile, a turn at the helm, so what more did I need? Only a certain amount of blue sky to make the sea look inviting and not angry, maybe some sun to warm the hands, and wind, but only in modest quantities; no force 6-7 or 80 knots at the Needles!

As Bless You’s log shows, we did explore, we enjoyed it and felt better sailors at the end of it.

NETLEY TO YARMOUTH — 24 May, 1975

Departure: 10.15 Wind: NE f3-4

A NE wind of such strength enabled us to set full sail and set out with a reach, which enabled us to skirt round Calshot in 40 minutes. The ebbing tide had not fallen much and so we skirted the shore.

Along this shore is the man-made island which houses the outlet of the cooling water mains from the power station. It is very substantial with plenty of bollards around its perimeter. It also displays a very large notice with much writing on it. Being interested in power stations we sailed close to see if the notice would tell us what it was all about. By the time we were 25 ft away and could decipher the 3” print we found it started, ‘Danger, keep away…’ and we never did read the rest of the sign.

The problems of relating the aerial view of the chart with our aspect were brought home vividly when we noticed three piles away on our port beam. Carefully searching the chart we located these as being close to the low water mark off Lepe. To us they seemed in mid-channel.

The tide was now nearing full speed, so we thought we should change course to get to the Isle of Wight coast. Our first effort had to be postponed while we made way for a large naval vessel, a change from the usual minesweepers. We now tried to locate Solent Banks or Hampstead Ledge.

It was obvious that a race was ahead, with Class 1-size yachts heading due south with spinnakers flying. Eventually the leading boat performed a smart spinnaker gybe and changed course to the south-west. Careful inspection showed us Hampstead Ledge buoy as the course mark. We held our course and watched this operation of gybing with a spinnaker, bearing in mind our own efforts in just raising and lowering our own. We noticed that one very elegant pale blue yacht with 12 red-clad crew members was a long way behind the others, and pondered the reason for this. Caroline’s sharp eyes spotted that the spinnaker had been hoisted back-to-front with starboard leach on the port side. First we watched them gybe, which included one man hanging from the spinnaker boom, indicating a certain lack of discipline and routine. The next mark gave us a chance to watch the spinnaker being lowered, and lowered it was: the halyard was released before everyone was in position, and we watched some 2,000 ft² of nylon gradually settle on the water.

Yarmouth Pier was in sight, and preparation was made for entry to the harbour. This was somewhat impeded by a coaster anchored across the entrance, an embarrassment for the ferries too. Sharp round the pier and straight for the entrance before the tide could pull us past it. Inside it was down with the main, furl the genoa and out with the paddle. Once round the harbour and we pulled up on the granite slipway. Time: 13.15 — 3 hours, with 45 minute tricks at the helm.

The sky had stayed grey and the NE wind seemed even colder as it whistled through the harbour entrance. We had packed our lunch in my insulated bag with ice pack. It seemed a pity that on such a cold day we had been unable to boast to anyone that we could offer them iced lemonade. Fortunately the bus shelter was glazed on all sides and acted as our restaurant.

Two other visitors attracted our attention. One was Kestrel 959 with orange top, from Keyhaven with trapeze fitted. They must have flown back with a beam reach. The other was a skipper who parked his boat next to mine with all sail still set and a following wind. We offered to help him get afloat. This was not entirely altruistic: it was mainly to ensure my own boat was not damaged. The crew sat on board with unlit cigarette and box of matches in one hand, and centreboard in the other — in f4. They attempted to set off without their rudder. An offer to fit it brought to light loose pintles and a cracked fitting. Yes — he did know of that. Ten minutes later the crew was still sitting with box of matches in one hand and centreboard in the other. No wonder the boat would not answer the helm.

We had both added additional clothes to our bulk and the main had been changed for the small one. 14.15 and off we set, knowing full well we had another two hours to low tide. We negotiated the entrance, pointed close to the wind, and aimed at Lymington. The triangle of forces, tide E to W, wind NE, boat heading NW, meant that we got into the slack waters inside Hurst Spit, and then the work began. Gradually we made ground as the ebb slackened. The marshes looked very bleak in grey skies. Sundry small buoys were scattered about the water, which led me to believe that we had sufficient water under us to sail close inshore, out of the worst of the tide and fiercest wind. This generally proved true and only once did we find ourselves sailing vigorously getting nowhere.

We recognized ‘Jack in the Basket’ and kept clear of the ‘Start Box’ for those preparing for Saturday afternoon races off Lymington. Gradually the ebb force diminished and the port tack along the coast began to pay off more. The comfort of the Kestrel was demonstrated in yet another fashion to me. We were still taking 45 minute turns at the helm, and I had the chance to examine the boat from the crew’s point of view. The small main meant that the helm could sit up on the side in comfort and see all. We wanted the weight forward and I found that sitting on the c/b casing with feet to leeward enabled me to lean against the foredeck edge with my back to the wind and my coat hood up so that any spray was kept out. It was easy to move from here up to the side deck if more leverage was required. One had ready access to the larder, and the raisins and apples were plundered in comfort.

This time the three piles off Beaulieu were left to port and, from this aspect, looked almost on the beach edge, so different from coming down. We were certainly having a good lesson in recognising landmarks and picking out buoys.

Once past W. Bramble we kept inshore as we were now heading upwind; tacking became more frequent and brought the crew sufficient exercise to keep warm. Low water at Hurst Castle was 16.38, so the spit at Calshot was still much in evidence and our last tack was out very near the lightship before we headed for Southampton Water. The NE wind gets a free run down the Hamble, so the next ½ hour was our wettest. We had done well up to now. Both had learnt much as helmsmen, especially how to let out the main in gusts and keep the boat on even keel. This had reduced the fatigue of jumping out and moving in. The crew had learnt to recognise the point at which a little pressure off the genoa reduced heel but not speed. I did not want to spoil this, so we now reduced to 20 minutes our turn at the helm, and consequently kept up our freshness and speed of reaction.

After such a sail, ‘After Barn’ seemed on the club doorstep. A few tacks through the moored ships and we were ashore at 19.30, feeling very satisfied, more like sailors than before, certainly a better team and very pleased with Bless You.

In brief :— Depart 10.15 NE run to Yarmouth at 13.15 3 hours Return 14.15 2 hours against ebb. Netley 19.30 5¼ hours

Sea miles covered — some 47-50

UP THE ITCHEN & TO ELING

The following day, Sunday, found the wind in the same direction, NE, but only f2-3. Our time was more limited and with the tides as they were, we decided to explore the other way. ‘Ditch crawling’ is the technical term.

At 09.50 we set off from Netley, Caroline helming, aiming to head as far upstream as we could get on the Itchen, having a good look at all boats and yards en route. This part of the trip was like old times to me. River trained, I found the swirling gusts that curl round buildings, wind always on the nose, were familiar. The main thrill was to see Shamrock’s mast set out on the spit of land next to the boatyard where they were manoeuvring her ready to take her up the slip on the spring tide. 17 tons of lead in her keel! It made our dinghy very miniature.

The hard work up the Itchen was recompensed by the run back to the docks before a beam reach took us past many and varied working boats, including two cable-layers. It was at times like this that I envied local people who could find out more easily what everything was. For instance, there was a contrivance moored near Marchwood which appeared to have the hull of an old clipper, with a 3 storey corrugated iron building constructed above it. What was it? What did it do?

By 12.20 pm we were in the peaceful lake that is Eling at high tide. An empty mooring enabled us to moor for lunch and watch sundry yachts prepare for an afternoon sail, including a very smartly painted, re-rigged gaff sailer.

As is usual for all my trips up into the docks, the wind decided to change for the afternoon and swung from NE to SE, which meant a beat back. This was achieved in somewhat leisurely fashion between 13.30 and 16.00, during which time we crossed tacks with a Folkboat, criticising the set of her sails but envying him the boat, all varnished and very shiny.

The day was shorter than the previous, but very pleasant. Buoys and channels had again been compared with the chart, and seeing a hull like the Shamrock’s is a sight never to be forgotten.

NETLEY - COWES

8th June, 1975 was marked on the club calendar as ‘Dinghy Cruise to Cowes’. I had hoped that some of the cruisers would join us. The time of departure was 10.55 with a 3-4 SE wind. Unfortunately few boats seemed to be taking part, though the day was sunny. Those who did join in started in a somewhat random style, and unlike other years, only once was another club boat seen, and that was while we had lunch.

The tide would be ebbing when approaching Cowes, so the intention was to tack down the Hampshire coast towards Lee before launching out across the East Solent. Calshot passed at 13.00 shows how gentle the breeze was, but by 14.00 we were tacking under the bow of a moored tanker of jaw cracking name. This tanker was shortly to make headlines when it spilt thousands of tons of oil in Torbay.

A SE wind in the Solent has a habit of becoming due south at Cowes, and this with an ebbing tide makes the journey up the Medina a trifle tricky. This time my crew was Carol, and she helmed much of the way in open water, but was happy to let me have a go up the river. We managed to pass the ferry, at which time one of the club cruisers offered a tow. This was gently declined as the breeze at that moment swung over the east bank and made progress possible past the National Sailing Centre. Of course as soon as he was out of hailing distance the wind was back on our nose.

My experience of river sailing has been that 5 minutes of wrong wind can undo an hour’s hard work upstream. So at 14.15 we came alongside an empty pontoon at Willmonts Marina and lunched on floating terra firma. There was some justice in the free use of this service, as we have Willmonts at the back of our garden and suffer their noise and smells. During this break club member Tony passed us by in his Enterprise, heading for Cowes, and so ended our only encounter.

15.00 was the departure time, and with a much stronger wind on the beam we made Netley in one long reach. The wind was such that I helmed all the way and Carol recorded the passing of landmarks; East Knoll Bench at 15.52; Homer Buoy 2 at Netley at 16.45.

Pleasant to have been across the water and seen the big boys on a sunny day with adequate breeze. Disappointing in that few took part, and no sailing in company with others.

SUMMARY: 10.55 Depart Netley 14.14 Moored at Willmonts Marina, Cowes 15.00 Depart Cowes 16.45 Back at Netley

1¾ hours for this run of about 10 nautical miles seems to be a goodly passage.

NETLEY - LEE-ON-SOLENT — 21 June, 1975

Carol had a weekend off from her job, so we packed the tent and sleeping bags and set off for Netley with the hopes of a Saturday and Sunday cruise. This time we continued into Southampton and pulled into the Weather Centre for their advice. Generally NE with 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 appearing as wind strengths.

Our arrival at Netley was delayed at the Itchen Ferry with car trouble until the RAC service diagnosed a bad battery connection. Our cruise was not started until 13.00.

An ESE wind 3-4, gusting 5, leaves the water off Netley reasonably calm, so we set off with full main and genoa. By the time we were off the Hamble we realised we were over-canvassed for comfort, so returned to Netley and changed to the small, flat, storm main. I left the genoa on as I know that with this sail alone I can still tack into the wind.

Our second departure was 14.15, and we decided to stay close inshore and inspect the east coast of the Solent. This gave us somewhat smoother water and enabled us to watch and pass through several races from the clubs along this stretch. Rescue boats were in close attendance as we watched several capsizes.

The previous year had found Carol and myself making the same journey, but inland by car while a 5-7 wind lashed the water and prevented a cruise. This helped us to identify various sailing clubs and landmarks.

When we were opposite the main promenade at Lee-on-Solent we decided that the time had come for a gentle run back.

Although the wind was high, the bright sun made it all very acceptable, so peace and quiet became top priority. We downed the main and with a beam wind the genoa pulled us along quietly and with little heeling movement. Restful positions were taken up. Carol sat on the sole, steering; Dad (6’ 2”) lay across the thwart (5’ 2”) with lifejacket moved back as head-rest and feet somewhat overhanging the other side. Some of the racing dinghies viewed this disposition of sail and weight with derision, but others might have been just a little envious. Sundry refreshments were partaken and the rest thoroughly enjoyed.

Opposite Hill Head, Dad decided that the time had come for action, put a reef in the main and, with helm and crew in ‘racing pose’, set off like the clappers. The wind again funnelled out of the Hamble and enabled us, even with this short sail, to plane for some few hundred yards; all of which enabled us to reach Netley at 18.30 in time for a clean-up, a change, and to pitch tent before supper and bed.

NETLEY - LEPE — 22 June, 1975

Caroline was due to join us for Sunday. The wind was still very much in the east at 4-5, gusting 7. The sun was out and all was tempting. The tide would be ebbing for most of the day but, unperturbed, we set off with either a repeat of the previous day but Portsmouth as the target, or Beaulieu as the alternative. The latter attracted me, even though this meant the return would be against wind and tide!

We made an early start at 10.15 with genoa and storm main. Caroline helmed till we reached the Hamble and again this funnel hit us, so we lowered the main and, under Genoa, sedately made our way past Calshot, well inshore on the high water, and along to Lepe beach by 12.05. The high ground behind the beach made it quiet, and the sun beckoned the crew into sunbathing.

Skipper had by now realised that the return journey could be hard work and managed to get his crew back aboard at 13.00. With reefed main we set off. The tide was really ripping and, even with wind over water, there was still an uncomfortable number of white horses about. The leeward bailer was open and we took a steady stream of water aboard over the lee deck as waves built up from the bow. Fortunately the shape of the deck at its join to the hull makes a good splash reducer, and the forward crew was not too wet.

The progress at each tack was not encouraging as it took a long time to pass conspicuous white house ashore, and one of the port buoys offshore.

By 14.30 we were off that part of the beach at Calshot where trees give way to bathing huts, so I decided we needed a breather and came ashore for a rest. Sights so far included the Canberra and one motor cruiser being towed by a sailing yacht.

At 15.00 we set off again for what was going to be the toughest part of the journey. I had asked the crew to put on oilskins, but ashore in the sun this seemed a bit much. Later they regretted it and one more lesson was learnt — how chilling can be a force 4-5, gusting 7, east wind with spray thrown in at irregular intervals.

This time we furled the genoa and set off, three-up, with reefed storm main. The ebbing tide had left the shingle bank very exposed as it ran out from Calshot, but an ESE with the whole Solent to wind up was rolling the waves along the bank and it provided no protection. This meant beating out to near the lightship before turning for home. With only the main flying, Bless You does not point as high as normal, and so several short tacks were called for as we passed Calshot, and what seemed to be a 5 minute ferry service to and from the Isle of Wight.

To starboard was a Bosun, superbly sailed by two 15-stone men, stripped to the waist and sitting well back and out. She seemed not to falter at all, and, to add insult to injury, one man was happily smoking a pipe! While I admired their skill, the competitive spirit rose in the crew, and a request to do something about it was answered by allowing the genoa to be broken out. This meant all three of us were really sitting out and, with a more upright boat, spray really flew around. However, all was well as we gradually left the Bosun astern until she pulled ashore at the Hospital Club.

Caroline brought us the last part and we arrived back at low water at 17.05, somewhat cold, but thrilled to know we had managed.

NETLEY - ‘JOLLY SAILOR’ — 17 August, 1975

This was an open invitation to the wind to blow due north and make the passage as uncomfortable as possible. Last year it drizzled all the time. This year there was no rain, but some bright spark of a committee arranged for the tide to ebb as we tacked up, and flood as we drifted down. Ah well, it’s all experience.

Caroline was my crew, with double thickness of everything, including gloves. We were learning.

As usual, there was much humming and harring while people decided whether to come or not. The Commodore, and his lady as crew, were aboard the rescue-towing craft. We set off as the day was meant for sailing, not arguing. Again we split duties, Caroline helming in the wides and me in the narrows. To give the others a chance to catch up, we sailed the long way into the Hamble via Hook Buoy. This meant that at least four boats were ahead of us in the river. Generally we kept to the east bank to get the best of the breeze, without being caught in mid-stream by the outgoing boats.

The wind threatened to die at any minute, so we had to make the best of our river sailing technique. That is, first, always to keep moving, to move quickly but very gently about the boat and, thirdly, to use all the weight to give us the longest run up into the stream when going about. This skill enabled us to lead the fleet to the Jolly Sailor. My crew, notwithstanding the clothes, had blue hands, so very hot coffee was called for.

We had been offered a tow but had preferred to arrive under our own steam. This gave us a great feeling of superiority as the rescue boat acted as tug to late arrivals.

A dropping wind and flooding tide prompted us to be first afloat for the journey home. This was a gentle run down the outside lanes, which enabled us to examine the moored vessels, some elegant, some ugly, some new, others old, the two sail-training 71’ ketches, rough old tubs, smart old gaff rigged cutters, some with acres of marine growth. This led us to wonder how people owning such objects of delight could leave them alone to that extent.

The greatest thrill was taking the short-cut home. The bank was still showing very clearly for most of its length, but inshore it was covered. Bless You draws 5” with board up, so: “Let’s try it out.” To our astonishment, the water was suddenly very clear and we could see the bottom rising to meet us. The surface of the bottom was easy to distinguish as it was covered with white shells which showed up as the water reduced from some 5’ to 12”.

Once over this it was a good run home taken in a lazy reach over to the west bank, and then in to the hard on a good beat.

Next year? The committee can’t control the weather; it will be north whichever day they select, but going up on the earliest flood and back on the ebb would help, as long as they learn from last year and don’t choose the spring tide which left the latecomers on the mud.

NETLEY — CRUISE ROUND THE HARBOUR — 19 September, 1975

I had a week at Netley during which time I visited Le Havre (by ferry) and the Boat Show at Southampton. I had two days afloat, solo.

The first day high tide was mid-afternoon and the strong winds of the week were still about, so I set off under genoa and small main for the docks. The wind was generally NW, but not as fierce as expected. It enabled me to cross over and see Hythe and its many moored vessels. I had visited the club here by ferry on the Monday and appreciated how tide-bound they were and what a problem they had getting out through all the piles and moored ships.

This time I wanted to use the Marchwood Channel and examine more closely some of the many unusual work boats, including one, a floating laboratory for the National Physical Laboratories. Once again I was astonished at the inactivity in the docks. For a country whose imports always seem so high, I am left wondering how they enter the country. There was only one container ship in that stretch of docks.

With the tide up, I was able to explore the whole of the end of the water around Eling, all very peaceful at high tide with the diagonal line of moored boats next to the main channel looking like a barrier.

Once again lunch time was the cue for the wind to swing, and a reach back was once more converted into a beat. By now everything looked worse as there was no sun, and sudden gusts of wind caused energetic reaction as a quick dip was not wanted.

This exploration concluded with an inspection of Netley’s own moored fleet, and shore was made at 16.30.

NETLEY - CALSHOT — 20 September 1975

Saturday was sunny, but I could not get a local forecast. Some club members spoke of f6 at Bembridge, and f7 elsewhere, so caution led me to small main and, for a change, the jib. As usual, from that moment of decision, the wind dropped!

The course was a lazy amble to the far shore, a close inspection of the tankers and tugs, and a drift towards Calshot. There was much to watch as the M3 traffic poured and roared out of the Hamble: there was a major power boat race going on. Nearer to hand the SWSA was having a regatta, and sundry boats charged by, so I decided to opt out.

At this point I discovered yet another facet of the Kestrel: with rig, jib and main, set reasonably tight for a beat, crew in usual lazy position lying across the boat on the thwart with tiller extension resting on an open palm, all was balanced and Bless You sailed herself from Calshot to the racing buoys next to Esso’s pier. Just how lazy can you get! During this performance the commodore was returning from the Isle of Wight by ferry, and being an old Kestrel fan, he spotted the wing and the orange deck, and trained his binoculars on this recumbent performance. Just as well I wasn’t snoring!

I decided to eat on passage, and found that pouring coffee is a sure way of attracting the wind. This time the boat took me up to Weston, where sixty 505s were fighting it out for a place in next year’s World Championship. All good stuff, but not a patch on the elegance of my cruise!

And so, after a lazy day when distance covered was not the most important factor, I came ashore very rested after communing with the elements solo for another six hours.

Unfortunately this proved to be my last cruise. Plans to have a few more with Carol and Caroline instead of winter races were somewhat put at nought when I returned home to find an invitation to meet a surgeon, lying down — but not across my thwart. Still… there is always next year!

APPENDIX TO LOG OF BLESS YOU

DETAILS OF KESTREL DINGHY

Length: 15’ 7” overall; 14’ 3” w/l Beam: 5’ 6”

Sail Area: Main 85 ft²; jib 30 ft²; genoa 51.3 ft²; spinnaker 120 ft²

Ian Proctor (the designer) designed a cruising main which, at a guess, is probably about 60 ft².

Round Bilge

Choice of centreplates: alloy or galvanized steel. I have the ¼” galvanized plate (55 lb), though for those who don’t race (and I do, with a Portsmouth Yardstick which is pretty high) the slot is wide enough for a 3/8” 75 lb plate.

Glass fibre construction; very comfortable; no awkward things to sit on.

My boat was bought in January 1972, for £385 including jib and mainsail. Current price is, I believe, in excess of £2,300. Except for running rigging, everything is original, sails and all. In 1986 I had to renew the shrouds.

The choice was between this and the Wayfarer, as I wanted the mix of racing and solo sailing. The Wayfarer has a flat floor (for sleeping on), and larger covered storage, but I had had chine boats for several years and have found the round bilge less nervous of heeling.

All my crews say one thing in common — it is very comfortable to sail. If you are afloat for 5 - 7 hours, that is important.