Four years ago a friend of mine told me about a beautiful looking boat hull he had seen, sitting on the pavement outside a motor lawnmower repair works quite nearby. So I went to see. There she was - gleaming white fibreglass simulated-clinker hull with wood trim and seats. Just under 16' long, 4' beam. She had a graceful bow, long straight bottom and wineglass stern. She cost me $A800.

She rowed like a dream and went well with an old 4 H.P. Seagull outboard. But I had to get sail on her. Like a very slim, graceful longboat, the original wooden versions were once used to carry carcasses of meat out to the ships at a seaport about 200 miles North of Sydney. An open, un-decked boat.

When I went to England for nine months I left her in a boatyard to have a centreboard case fitted. I had written about her to Laurel Shields - DCA USA, and also mentioned the metal centreplate I had fitted. He said 'Get rid of it and give a thought to leeboards'. He also sent me, most kindly, a write-up on the 'Prince William Sound Yawl' designed by Phil Bolger. Anyway, I gave my new boat a 72 sq. ft. tan sprit sail - patterns and dimension formula taken from John Leather's 'Spritsails and Lugsails', and I made my own wooden sheet blocks after reading 'The Marlin Spike Sailor' - a superb book and a must for your Library.

I was most surprised to read of Peter Francis's problems with this rig as described in 'The Dory Story', Autumn 1984 magazine; it was so easy to handle with the unstayed mast. I had no problem with whip on a run, and to shorten sail - one pull on the sprit halyard chopped out the upper triangle of sail as the sprit was held against the mast. A single brail rope folded up the rest of the sail. Actually the scandalizing of the sprit idea was copied from the rig used on the 'Delaware Duckers' as described in a recent 'Wooden Boat' magazine. The sprit sail was flat, efficient and powerful and on all points from just off the wind the boat fairly flew; more so when I did change the steel centreplate for a better shaped wooden one.

One day a large motor cruiser on Sydney Harbour dumped its wash right into my wife Elaine's lap, and on another occasion I had a very uncomfortable afternoon in a short sharp chop on Botany Bay. So - she developed the following - (my first attempts at boat 'construction'):

A foredeck to just forward of the mast 3' of stern decking 6" wide side decks 2½" high coamings, cut lower near the rowlocks Wooden centerboard Another rudder with a lifting blade

AND - one of the best things I did - threw out that monstrous tiller and used a yoke and steering lines instead; their inboard ends were attached to shock-cords, which made for a very effective self-centering action. With that tiller gone I had so much extra space. I was at last sailing sitting IN my boat, not on, or beside it. She could take so much more weather, and sitting on the bottom I was really secure inside. The most comfortable seat was half-inflated Mini-Minor inner tube inside a plastic bag.

Time now for my first proper long cruise, not on the open sea because we have a very dangerous coastline, but on the Myall Lakes, about 5 hours' drive north. It is a vast, wooded system of lakes, separated from the ocean by a narrow stretch of beach, sand dunes and bush. At the very top end is a little settlement, a sawmill and stone and wooden boat ramp, called Bungwahl. I put the boat in there and Elaine drove home after storing the trailer at a petrol station about two hours down the track.

I set off around 3.30 pm. A perfect start down the first lake, which was about double the size of Windermere, but shallow. The water was a greeny blue. The late afternoon sky was clear and bright making the varnished decks and tan sail positively glow. The breeze made for a comfortable heel. I had never sailed these lakes before and was operating from a rather small scale map.

About 6 pm I tied up under the trees at the rocky shoreline and went ashore to set up my Primus for dinner - packet soup, 3 minute noodles and a billy of tea - and lit the Hurricane Lamp. The ground was far too hard under the carpet of leaves for tent pegs. I had no boat tent so I put the inflated airbed in the bottom of the boat and unrolled my swag on it. Pyjamas were a fleecy-lined tracksuit - so on with tracksuit - into sleeping bag all draped with the blue plastic boat cover. This is where I started to learn ...

Don't tie up close to rocks - you'll get bump, bump all night Don't, then, tie up to rotten old fish traps Do let enough anchor cable out so you don't drag it AND - when you moor-off to sleep (here anyway), out from under the shelter of the overhanging trees, stand-by to get wet from heavy dewfalls!

I was up for breakfast around 5 am. The sky was leaden and all was absolutely still. Learn then to expect bad weather later! I rowed for about 3 hrs. The day brightened and brought some wind. Once, while sailing through a narrow gut leading to the next lake, two swallows sat, side by side, on the top edge of the sail.

Into the next lake and the sky darkened, a strong wind got up and for the next hour or so we hammered into it till I had to brail-up and row again. Finally, at the far end of this lake, which pointed directly inland, I found the heavily wooded channel leading to the third lake. The wind eased as I changed direction and I was able to sail again. I passed some houseboats, flocks of Pelicans and other water birds, and yet another large wooded and reedy lake opened out before me. Heavy clouds built up behind and I saw a fisherman heading fast for the shore. The clouds became darker still, the wind eased, and everything went absolutely quiet.

I must have been about 100 yds. off the reeds, looking for the hidden, narrow neck into the fifth lake. I heard a sort of whistle behind me and the whole lake astern of me was blotted out and the storm just hurled me shoreward, broadside on. I brailed up the sail, wrenched the mast out of its step, pulled up the plate and sat her out desperately to keep her upright. Once in the reeds I lay in the bottom of the boat in 6" of water, pulled the sail over me and peeped over the coaming. The trees were bent double, the noise of the wind and rain was deafening, and the hail beat down upon me.

This lasted about 20 minutes, then all was peaceful again and the sun re-appeared. With an oar I poled out of the reeds and rowed round the point to where a car ferry crossed the narrows, not more than 100 yds. wide. There I found a boat ramp where a 15 ft. aluminium boat had been picked up and dropped onto a hire catamaran by the storm - and a small caravan park. I was able to hire a vacant on-site van for the night and pull the boat up alongside. Luxury!! Tumble dried clothes - hot food and warm bed.

I had intended to sail down the last lake and make my way down 24K's of river to cross a huge inlet, like Portsmouth Harbour but wider, called Port Stephens. But the overall wind was getting too much for a single-hander in this boat, and it was against me, which more than likely would have meant a 24K ROW down the river. So I day-sailed with a trailer-sailer owner who was much taken with my ship, and later phoned home saying, 'Please bring car and trailer'.

She has since been sold and I've finished my first attempt at boat-building - a very simple 15' 10" sprit rigged yawl designed by Phil Bolger - he sent it to me actually - and is a simplified 'Instant Boat' version of the 'Prince William Sound Yawl'.

The yawl is going well. The leeboard makes so much room in her, but in gusts of up to 20-25 KPH, 124 sq. ft. becomes a biggish sail area to handle alone and I capsized three times. So I cut the mainsail off at the lowest line of reef points. I keep the bottom bit to lace on in light winds or when I have two up, most successfully!

This is what she looks like:

Hull - Black Interior - Oyster white Sails - Red Gunwale - 1” rope fender right round Floorboards - Varnished Sterndeck Food Compartment

I've bent her trailer; hurt my back; and her home in an old factory site two minutes' walk away might soon be demolished. So - I want to buy a 'Mirror 10', deck her in and give her a Junk Sail - and CAR TOP.

Erroll Matthey