It’s a funny old business is sailing!!

Sometimes when you think you’ve covered everything for a day’s or weekend’s sail, and you think everything is hunky-dory, it is then you realise you’ve forgotten the wife! While half way over to the Isle of Man, or some such place.

You know what it’s like. Packing the car, first off we go for the sail bag, then the sheets, not forgetting to see if the battens are in the bag for the third time.

By the time we’re half way out to sea, the sails trimmed, the course set, we find that we’ve forgotten the sugar or the flask of water. Now some smart aleck, (sorry Aleck!), is going to say why not put it in the flask before leaving. (the sugar that is!!).

But did we forget to check the weather? And I don’t mean a cursory glance at the weather forecast. I know the last paragraph can give a whole new meaning to safety at sea, but it is not to that I refer.

Having read previous Bulletins it never fails to amaze me at the spirit most adventures take. Hail rain or shine. Sigh!!!, it does bring back the memories. However, I do remember a slogan painted on the marina wall as we sailed up the river towards the sea.

‘THINK DON’T SINK’.

It was an ominous message. Just enough to make you gulp. But it did the trick it was designed for. A quick scan of the mental inventory to ensure that every eventuality in the case of an emergency had been covered. Lifejacket, lifeline, flares; where necessary; and not forgetting to tell someone where your sailing area is to cover. i.e. the coastguards. I won’t presume to go into a treatise on safety procedures, the coastguards issue a very nice safety information pack. This includes check lists and general information that covers just about most aspects, apart from of course detailed instruction on how to become a budding Captain Bligh!

Sometimes in our enthusiasm to get sailing there is the obvious aspect of wind strength. No amount of safety gear, no matter the quality, or superbness of design, can take you away from the boiling mess that’s tipping over the gunwales. Particularly if you haven’t found your sea legs after a long winter out of water. Prayers are very useful, but can be avoided with a few thoughts beforehand! (I somehow think God has enough on his plate in these troubled times, without having to worry about winsome sailors.).

Anyway, BON VOYAGE to you all. But don’t forget to keep one eye on the weather and one eye on the wife. It’s surprising how much better you will enjoy your sailing, instead of just surviving it!!!

It really is a funny old business is sailing! Controversy can be even funnier.

Re-reading the above, there seems to be conjecture that comment ‘THINK DON’T SINK’ was a remembrance of sailing out on a stormy, black skied, rain-lashed day. And that safety equipment was an antidote to that. Many apologies for those who would so interpret. On the contrary, the day in my memory that ‘Think don’t sink’ referred to, was a calm, bright sunny day, with not even enough wind to set the genoa.

The real message behind the quote, for me anyway, was no matter how deceptive the appearance of conditions that exist at the time, the weather does change. Sometimes quite dramatically. Particularly also if you haven’t bothered with finding out the long range weather forecast, and that can so often be wrong.

However, I would have thought that common sense would prevail for those attempting to set sail in conditions that would defy reason. The article referred to those situations of thought that in safety equipment, if caught out in adverse conditions, there is some recourse to hope. Being myself a devout coward into entering into situations that are obviously and futilely fraught with danger you may see a different standpoint. Though when conditions are right I’ll “Welly” it with the best of them.

Anyhow back to the drawing board.

It may be seen as the right, if not the duty, of every self-respecting sailor, dinghy or otherwise, to belay the fears of others, as much as is possible, to include ourselves.

Ever thought why big ships and in particular fishermen in trawlers, appear to look down on dinghy sailors with abject horror. I feel there are two main reasons. Their own experience and our diminutive size. It’s not so bad for them perhaps when they see a ‘lid’ with a couple of windows in it. Though in reality there are few saving graces when conditions are really against us. Anyone so doubting should ask the Titanic. 600 feet of water is just as wet on the bottom as it is on the top. At least with a dinghy there is not the same danger of nobly going down with your craft while trapped inside. Apart from the pain of exposure I think I know where my preference lies. So to get things in perspective I would much sooner avoid both, or reduce the chances.

That must start at the garage loading up, and continually throughout the voyage. Flexibility being the keyword. EH!

It really is a funny old business sailing, ‘again I hear’! There was a programme on telly a few years back, one Sunday I think. It was a programme about old time sailors at the turn of the century, comparing old methods of going to sea with more modern ones.

Included in this was a small part on old sailing and fishing boats. There was an old gent talking about, and comparing modern methods to those of yesteryear; methods handed down from father to son. Standing by his old boat he admitted that he didn’t have lifejackets. He showed the interviewer a small bottle of Holy Water. It was his lifejacket he suggested, and I suspect, his compass.

It seems there are few gentlemen of the sea nowadays. I would love to have known this guy. His simple faith I could find easy to live alongside. This preference to the hoy-polloy of modern scientific methods makes you think. His approach had more of a soothing and calming effect than all the hustle and bustle and intensity of modern scientific methodology.

Last week I had the pleasure of standing at the water’s edge of a most beautiful part of the River Wyre at Skipool near Fleetwood. You would have to be made of wood not to have surveyed the beauty and serenity of it all, with a quiet contentment that comes from appreciation. It was within this moment of fleeting contentment that extremes of a fine set picture both broke and reaffirmed that contentment. Across the scene came a flying catamaran crewed by two young lads. The were having a whale of a time dashing backwards and forwards. In the background came into view a small sailing dinghy, very similar to a lug-rugged 15 foot sailing canoe, but with a higher sheerline. This red-sailed craft was gently bobbing along. For some reason I suspect this bobble-hatted gent to a member of the DCA. Had I been able to walk across water, I would dearly loved to have gone and shaken his hand. These lads were doing a superb job of cutting up the waves. The hull of one side of their ‘cat’ was just lifting out of the water, as high as I believe it possible without capsize. Their speed was truly amazing in their modern rig.

However, I don’t believe they saw half as much as that solitary figure in his sailing canoe. I suppose the moral of the two stories outlines and emphasises one important aspect of cruising sailing as in the purpose of organisations like the DCA, and it isn’t the requirement of a bobble-hat to enable its function, though they do come in handy. Perhaps it has more to do with achieving that sense of timelessness that comes with easy sailing. On a wry note to finish, I simply must dash to find those oars in the garage!!!