by Antony Sluce

Four boats launched on the Friday at various times, Colin being the last at 2100. The wind was directly onto the slip and I had trouble getting off. My bilge keels became foul of a very large object, later found to be a flywheel, the remains of a mooring, with the result that I rammed the jetty and chipped off some of the gel coat on the stem. Albert and I sailed up to Barrow inspecting the shipyards on the way. There is a good deal of boating activity, but the main interest is fishing. Just before the bridge to Walney Island there is a mass of moorings which dry out at half tide, but are pretty sheltered. The locals obviously get cheap boating with houses close to the water’s edge and a good supply of stainless steel. Walking ashore later past the beached boats with their anchors exposed, I could not work out what it was at first and then I realised that none of the anchors were rusty. They were welded up out of stainless.

Peter, with David and Jean as crew, had sailed out over the bar with the tide and did not get back till 1900, by which time I had anchored in the lee of Piel Island. We were able to have a combined effort on the supper and finished up with a walk ashore where David and Jean were camping. Albert and Joyce were staying with friends ashore.

Saturday dawned with a faint air and the same forecast we had had for the last few days. We put to sea after a leisurely breakfast, just making over the tide. By the Bar Buoy I decided to reef down and put in two reefs whilst I was at it, and, a few minutes later, was glad I had as we were punching into a good force five. Peter was well ahead of us and we did not catch him up before turning back for a quick return to the island. By now the wind was blowing straight through the anchorage and, at high water, it was decidedly uncomfortable. I had got my anchor down in a position where I could not veer enough cable to be secure and so felt I could not leave the boat. Also, it was almost too rough for rowing ashore in our dinghy. Luckily, Albert arrived shortly after with his friend’s rigid dinghy and they were able to operate a ferry service. Colin briefly visited us and then returned to the other side where he had found a lee. As the tide dropped we got more shelter, and when we dried out, went ashore for a few drinks in the pub. Later I put out another anchor and waited till we were afloat and adjusted the swinging circle. The wind was still blowing in the top end of five and we rolled a bit as the tide covered the sheltering spit. As the tide turned, the wind dropped and went round to the east. As we were sleeping comfortably, I didn’t move the boat at 0500 and, as a result, we dried out high up the beach and could not get off before midday.

Once again, Dave came to the rescue and I was able to have a sail out in Morecambe Bay with Albert and Joyce, whilst Phyl sunbathed. Out on the Bar there were a number of local boats fishing. Dave had anchored there and one of his sons caught something. When we got back, Peter had disappeared out of sight, I was nearly afloat, and Colin had landed for a yarn. When we floated, I rafted alongside Albert with Peter on the other side, having returned from the deep. After lunch, we recovered the boats, the Drascombes rapidly winching onto their trailers. Albert and I followed at a more leisurely pace and once again Dave came to the fore, driving the club tractor to haul our boats out.