A Cruise of Contrasts in Contrasting Cruzes

Jayne and I had been looking forward to the Kirkcudbright Meet: for one thing it was an opportunity to sail with friends on the sea which is always a different kettle of fish to fresh water sailing, secondly Dumfries and Galloway is the land of Jayne’s birth, Kirkcudbright Academy having nurtured her misspent youth, but most importantly, this long weekend would be the start of a week’s holiday to celebrate our Wedding Anniversary — the honeymoon last year had included our first DCA Meet. Terry writes the meet report elsewhere, but Brian suggested that a few words about our camping trip along the Solway Firth (presumably named after one of my ancestors) to the Islands of Fleet might help swell the journal’s pages.

We’d arranged to meet at Kirkcudbright Sailing Club at 11 am for the 1330 high tide, ‘we’ being Brian McClellan, Terry Hughes and John Pinch sailing Terry’s Seal 22, Tarka, Bob Burns, the DCA’s Man in Dumfries, sailing his Topper Cruz as yet unchristened, and Jayne and myself in our Cruz, Jenya. Miraculously Jayne and I made it for 11 (why does packing always take the time available plus one?); we launched about midday then set sail and motor against tide and headwind to clear the moored boats. Except for Bob who has strong arms in lieu of outboard.

A gentle sail the length of Kirkcudbright Bay brought us to Little Ross island in whose lee we lunched, moored to the firing range safety-boat buoy, used by their spotter vessel, but thankfully not today. The Cruzes were then able to cut between Little Ross and the mainland but Tarka’s skipper decided to stick to the main channel well east of the island. Bob, Jayne and I Cruzzed the Coast, enjoying superb sailing on a broad reach in gentle wind, sunbathing and snacking, identifying features from our encapsulated Ordnance Survey map and the Solway Sailing Directions — a fund of local knowledge produced by the South West Scotland Sailing Association. This was completely new territory for Jayne and I and we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, alternating helming with lazing. The two Cruzes kept together, sometimes Bob ahead sometimes ourselves; Jenya was carrying more weight so I suspect that Bob was easing his sheets at times, but it was all very pleasant.

A VHF call to Tarka, well astern after her detour, agreed the destination as Ardwall Island. Vessels able to take the ground can ‘enjoy’ the mud or mixture of shell and sand to the sheltered north of the island so the Cruz crews would beach there and camp ashore, Tarka’s crew would anchor off and bring the crate of essential supplies ashore in the evening. Then a similar soothing sail home on the morrow.

‘The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft aglay’; it seems appropriate to quote the local bard, and he certainly fits the occasion. Things seemed to lose their soothe from the moment I decided to haul Jenya up the beach. In retrospect I can’t think why we did this; perhaps it was the half dozen new fenders waiting to be tried out on the seemingly gentle slope plus the fact that there were three of us to pull. But the mud had other ideas; it was a long haul using a 2:1 pulley, and finally help from a walker who had come across the causeway at low water, so we anchored Bob’s Cruz where she lay and Jenya just below the high water line.

As we were setting up camp we had a message that Tarka had found a good anchorage off Murray’s Isles and her crew wouldn’t be joining us. No matter, we spied on them with our 10 x 70’s during the after-dinner explore of the island, feeling like Long John Silver.

Jayne and I awoke about 2 am. It was a quiet night, semi-starry but with cloud in the south. One of our happiest memories of the trip is our short walk to an outcrop to see the boats floating quietly at anchor, seemingly miles away in the half-light.

At 7 am Bob got the forecast. Wind southerly force 5, gusting 6; but a suggestion of moderation in the afternoon. Tarka had disappeared — we later learned that she had had a swell night so her crew were up and away at first light. Jenya was rolled down the beach (much easier downhill) and both boats rigged — the main double reefed, mizzen one reef — by which time the tide was upon us. The south by east wind decided us to walk the boats round the northern tip to sail off westwards. We’d put in a couple of tacks when we realised that Bob was falling well behind so we hove to — despite the DCA theorism* of every skipper for himself we’d agreed to keep together in the bad conditions, particularly as we had an outboard. But Bob was a long way off and at last our concern was over as we saw him beach at Carrick. Whatever the cause he was safe (mizzen trouble we later learned) so Jayne and I sheeted in to clear the southern rocks of Ardwall.

We were taking more tacks than we’d expected for the wind was living up to its forecast and the waves getting bigger the further out we sailed, so we felt that the outboard would be ‘good seamanship’. We had intended buying a 3.5 hp outboard but finished up with a Suzuki 2.2 hp for reasons that provide a story in themselves. So far this had served us well, but so far it hadn’t had a real test. It certainly helped us clear the headland but we were still close hauled to Barlocco — perhaps we’d tolerate the outboard for a while yet. There was no perhaps about it; clearing Barlocco allowed a fine reach but we were a mile offshore in bigger seas than I’d sailed in such a small boat. The outboard was here to stay. Jenya is 14 foot 3 inches, ketch rigged, with deck well designed for cruising, or rather for day sailing with up to 5 crew — we’d found her comfortable with 4 crew in Cornwall this summer. However she is not over blessed with freeboard, slightly less than a GP14 I noted recently, and I’ve felt that her narrow bow would not ride big waves — for on the lake she cuts through chunky waves and we get wet unless we put up the cuddy or get her planing. And no way were we planning on planing today! How mistaken I had been; with higher waves come longer waves and Jenya’s light bow rode these beautifully. Jayne was amidships on the thwart, skilfully moving to minimise roll and I soon found a cruiser stance the best — sitting on the bench, well aft, feet braced on the floor. Most undinghyfied. I ignored the tiller extension to get firmer steering as I put her head into the bigger waves and bore away over the crests.

So we were motor sailing. The mizzen was sheeted in sufficiently to allow luffing on our course so that when bearing away slightly she wouldn’t be over-tight. I played the main (double reefed still) luffing generously most of the time but sheeting in enough to give drive and stability, and letting fly in the gusts. Suzie was tremendous. Perhaps I’d better explain that in view of her excellent performance on this trip we’ve christened our outboard ‘Suzie’. She delivered a constant drive on 3/4 throttle, particularly vital when a larger wave loomed and I headed Jenya straight at it, briefly losing sail-power. Our fine-reaching course was fortunately the best possible, allowing us to quickly face a wave then pay off without too much hassle. A beam reach would have rolled us more and possibly shipped more water, a dead run — ugh!

As we crossed towards the Pinnacle and associated inhospitable lee shore, we refuelled Suzie on the move. The technique is to sort of heave to and shout ‘Petrol’, then a can with spout attached appears in my hand. Similar techniques apply to freeing the mainsheet and bailing: I shout ‘Mainsheet’, whereupon Jayne turns round and with her free hand unwinds the sheet from the block. I hasten to inform the reader that this is not our normal style of communicating, but needs must when wind and waves rule. Feeling that we needed inspiration after one particularly wet bashing I shouted, ‘I love you’. In the past this succinct phrase has had magical results — tho’ I’m not sure that it’d work with other DCA members! Jayne’s wet features broke into a smile as she responded, ‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it’. Some waves were breaking over the gunwale so ‘Bail’ is the loudest shout of all — Jayne turns round and joins me in bailing furiously despite feeling sick until I have the sense to move the petrol can and tie it to the stem painter. The spray from breaking waves covered us and not for the first time in the outdoors I was glad not to have to wear glasses — Jayne had difficulty admiring the view through her salt-soaked lenses but the worst I had was a saline weather eye, i.e. the one to windward. And our hopes of the wind moderating as forecast didn’t materialise; perhaps we were too early.

We sailed, and as one does in these situations gained a tentative confidence as we passed along the coast — particularly as Brighouse Bay gave us more sea room. The massive cliffs on the lee shore could have been frightening if we’d stopped to think — we were well out but perhaps we should have stood even further out to sea, particularly as the waves were steeper inshore. Eventually Little Ross lighthouse loomed into view and we bore away with the wind and waves on the beam, necessitating constant bailing. A brief run through the Sound — thankfully it was high tide — and we were into the shelter of yesterday’s lunch-time mooring.

We hadn’t seen another sail, though Tarka had preceded us by about 6 hours we later learned, and even in the lesser waves of Kirkcudbright Bay only one cruiser was visible a mile away — apparently she stuck her nose out of the bay, bound for Whitehaven, then turned back. We also later learned that the lifeboat had been out to a cruiser in the Firth. Not a lot of activity for August Bank Holiday Sunday.

A good half-hour later we set off to run the 5 miles to Kirkcudbright. Jenya’s unstayed mast allows a superb system for running in adverse conditions: we unclip her mainsheet block from the centreboard case and the mainsail can then swing for’ard on a yellow line clipped to the block till flying like a flag downwind. The mizzen can pay out similarly (no line needed) but the boom bangs the helmsman’s head and I therefore claim that this is not really necessary.

The wind and waves were now less than out at sea but still strong; initial running soon became serious surfing when we left the shelter of Little Ross, and as we had no wish to play games we tacked downwind, with Suzie singing at the stern. Jayne played the yellow line to give drive and stability from the mainsail; when necessary we ‘gybed’ by unclipping the line and passing it for’ard round the mast. Halfway to Kirkcudbright we met a couple of well-reefed cruisers from the sailing club, and two more under jib enjoying the strong conditions.

We finally stood on the club slip before the locked gates of the dinghy park. Jayne produced a couple of Mars Bars and a bottle of wine from the ships store and soon Ray and Margaret Ohnstad appeared from their cruiser, unlocked the gates, helped us de-rig, drove us to camp for our vehicle then fed us cake and hot tea in the clubhouse. Many thanks Ray and Margaret — ex-DCA members but still members in spirit — and thanks also for the hospitality of Kirkcudbright Sailing Club where we were made welcome over the weekend.

But what of Bob? And what of Tarka’s crew? As we finished scoffing cake Brian and Bob appeared. Bob had phoned his wife from Carrick (great things these mobiles) and got a lift (wonderful things these wives); Terry has written Tarka’s story in the meet report. Apparently B and B had been scouring the coast for us, fine fellows — again despite the DCA theorism* of every skipper for himself. Back at camp but still wet and bedraggled, Brian, as usual, provided comment: ‘One thing I’ve noticed about you, Colin; you know how to give a girl a good time’.

A superb trip of contrasts, each day, and the night, to be well remembered. We were pleased with the Cruz’s handling in heavy seas, though it’s not something we’d take on deliberately or lightly, and we grow more confident in, and pleased with, our new craft as the months and the meets go by.

Monday dawned with sea fog so the DCA meet adjourned to Terry and Margaret’s home for coffee and cakes, greatly to be recommended.

Next day Jayne and I left for the attractions of Edinburgh and gentle walking in the Pentland Hills, having been foiled in this intent on our honeymoon last year because we bought a boat and attended that first portentous DCA meet.

I feel there is an error in interpretation here! - Ed.