The Mirror Curlew goes to the Isle of Wight

Although I had always been interested in boats, I only started to sail a few years ago. I always thought it would be easy to pop over to the Isle of Wight in almost any sailing dinghy, but when, as I gained more knowledge, I realised that it is not quite so easy, I asked Liz Baker if it is possible to take a Mirror across, and had she done it? Well, Liz had been across a few times in Black Swan, but she emphasised the need to be ‘careful’. Although I had made some coastal passages in the Solent I did not seem to get the opportunity to cross over to the island, and eventually the whole idea seemed to become a psychological barrier.

My opportunity came with the Wootton rally on 4th September 1999. Weather conditions were settled and light winds could be expected. I set out from home, Curlew behind me on the trailer, and as I drove along I still had not decided my jumping-off point. Should it be Chichester harbour, or somewhere which would give a shorter crossing? Eventually I decided to take the shortest crossing, and headed for Stokes Bay near Gosport which would give a 3 mile crossing. Here I found easy car parking, at the western-most car park of the three, and a huge slipway which had been built for the early hovercraft. Parking was allowed for 48 hours and the attendant was very helpful.

When I first launched, it was into a slightly sheltered little bay protected by a shingle spit, but as I crept out to sea the waves soon picked up and the boat rolled energetically as I tidied my halyards and secured the rudder down. When the Mirror is loaded with equipment and drinking water it seems very steady, and I knew from past experience that in this sort of sea the boat would look after me. Soon the wind settled onto the stern, about F3 northerly, and with sails goosewinged I (almost) fearlessly forged ahead out into the Solent on course for Wootton. As I was not totally sure what Wootton looked like, I relied on my compass, and the tide was at slack low water so no current was deflecting my progress. The boat just settled down into its stride and rolled along in the sunshine, with something of a white bone between its teeth, jib poled out to port and mainsail held to the starboard shrouds with the preventer. I found a comfortable position to sit, on the stowage boxes against the aft bulkhead, and sat alongside the tiller in what turned out to be the most perfect position for the boat and for me. Various yachts passed across our path, heading up or down the Solent, but all seemed to give me sea room and seemed very curious about such a small boat well out to sea. As I was running free with all plain sail spread I could not easily stop anyway.

After about half an hour the island became clearer, and I realised that I was heading downwind onto an unknown lee shore, with Wootton Rocks charted about one mile ahead. This gave me slight anxiety as there is no alternative downwind port, except perhaps King’s Creek whose entrance I do not know. Therefore, as I came due west of the Wootton Beacon, I pulled in the jib pole, rounded the boat up to windward and backed the jib. Here I lay hove-to on the seaward tack about two cables west of the entrance channel. Nearby was a gaff ketch, also stopped in the water, and I presumed she was waiting to enter Wootton. The mental picture of this sunny day, the two boats hove-to in the breeze and rolling in the gentle swell, is something to remember in the dark winter days.

Wootton is a ferry port, and I was not exactly sure how to go about entering. So I decided to await the arrival of a ferry and follow her in, thereby avoiding meeting a ferry emerging. I had to wait for about 20 minutes for a ferry to arrive, do its three point turn outside the harbour and then enter the channel, and I followed behind it on the first of the flood which was just starting. Everything was easy and soon I arrived at the sharp starboard turn in the channel, and in the light wind I confidently jibed onto the leading lights described in the pilot books. This just felt so professional! The river was absolutely quiet; nothing moved, and I ghosted between the moored boats for about 20 minutes looking for the rally. Eventually, I saw the little jetty where we stay, and Peter Glover’s dinghy nearby. I dropped the sails and nudged the jetty. What a lovely crossing!

We had a glorious time at Wootton, several DCA boats turning up, and Peter gave lessons in sculling over the stern, and we enjoyed the peace of the place and the boats and the food.

Next morning was misty and we woke to the sound of the ferry give three blasts on its whistle — ‘going astern’. I started off rowing down the creek but soon a breeze filled in from the east. I always make big mistakes on rallies, always in front of an audience, and once again it happened. The peace of Wootton Creek had caused to me forget all seamanship, and I forgot to put the dagger board down. So when I raised the jib the boat immediately set off out of control on a leeward course heading for a moored yacht. Anyway, just in time I got the board down, and sailed in circles whilst getting the sails up. This circling was quite accidental, but turned out to be a good technique in the confined location.

Alan Glanville in Lowly Worm was sailing near me, and we tacked and tacked all the way to the sea. I was using a cane to sound the depth, and thus avoid groundings in the shallow water. Once or twice I had to quickly pull up the dagger board to avoid anchor warps. Soon I had extricated myself from the melee of yachts and, tacking under the towering stern of the berthed ferry, headed out along the entrance channel. Meanwhile, Alan was away to port, and then tacked and headed east for Chichester, providing a nice picture of a real life Viking ship for the passengers of the incoming ferry.

It was still misty and I relied on my compass to set the course for Stokes Bay. I also streamed my 10m long log line and, by counting seconds, found my speed to be 3 knots, on a beautiful broad reach with a wind of F3 NE. I was able to carry full sail and balance the boat comfortably without having to hang out of it. The swell was still running as it was yesterday, and once or twice a train of larger waves would arrive, strangely, sometimes from leeward. As the island faded into the mist, the vague outline of the mainland appeared, and soon I could identify features ashore. My compass course took me exactly to the launch site, although I found myself naturally heading up to windward quite often, and no doubt the boat made a little leeway which compensated for this. Recovery of the boat at Stokes bay was difficult in the swell because the bottom was shingle and my kedge would not hold, so I had to beach the boat. Numerous children converged on Curlew and were soon helping me carry the masses of stores and equipment to my car, in return for which, as it was a hot day, each asked for a cup of my remaining tepid drinking water taken from a tin mug! They all wanted to sail to the island. Arthur Ransome would have approved.

Sailing is often portrayed as all hardship and courage, but this cruise was pure enjoyment, with good weather and friendly people. A memorable First Crossing in which nothing went wrong.

I do not have a photograph of the rally, but here is a photograph of Curlew taken at the Poole Harbour Rally, June 2000. You can see her boom tent permanently stowed beneath the boom, the twin topping lifts, lazy jacks, reefing system and stowage boxes.