Meet cancelled due to foot and mouth disease

Coniston July 7-8 David Slater with Natalie and Daniel Bolger Birdwatcher E.T. Bob Blackburn Drascombe Lugger Frank and Margaret Dearden Eric Scholes and Bernard Harman Sussex Cob Jay

We hoped that this meet would reinvigorate relations between the Coniston Sailing Club, who were running a dayboat weekend, and their guests, the Drascombe Association and the DCA. It was not to be.

Sailing on the lake was now permitted, subject to disinfection of boats and heavy restrictions on where you could beach. Sadly, the Drascombe Association had already cancelled and the Sailing Club members were still thin on the ground, no doubt due to the restrictions and the uncertainties. In the event five CSC members turned up for the meet, including Bob with his lugger and the four of us in Jay who all have dual DCA / CSC membership. All the more credit therefore to David and his grandchildren who had travelled up from Lincolnshire against the advice of the weather forecasters.

As often happens, Coniston’s own micro climate came out trumps and we had pleasant sailing for the most of the day.

We first spotted David’s E.T. going at speed back up the lake under engine whilst we were having our lunch on a beach near Fir Island. They had left the Boating Centre, their launching point, early in the morning (well, earlier than us) due apparently to the inability of the teenage crew to sleep beyond 8 o’clock. In our maturity we have no such problem. The rain came later in the afternoon so we returned to the Boating Centre for tea and an inspection of David’s home built boat. Some Bolger boat designs are certainly different; for example, the extremely eccentric looking Bolger Mini Cruiser laid up in the boat park at Coniston, however, in a recent Watercraft article, it has quite a good write up and it certainly looks better on the water. The Bolger Birdwatcher is another very interesting and individualistic design. Imagine a 23’ canal narrow boat with no cockpit but a full length cabin with smoked glass sides and a roof with a canvas strip over the central third of the beam. Roll back the canvas and you have a full length walkway from which protrudes the mast, tiller etc. Perhaps the editor can persuade David to write an article describing the boat’s characteristics.

The crew of lay all had family commitments for the following day and so we left Bob, David and family to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Bernard Harman

NW Scotland Rally September 1—8

George Russell John Dory Saga Joan Abrams, Sophie Annetts & Marti Falmouth Bass boat Pladdy Lug Malcolm Stewart 22 ft fast cruiser Andrew Gillies Mirror dinghy Katy

It was a little amazing that we actually got to the West Coast of Scotland on September 1st in the first place, Joan wanted to go to Creran, but due to unforeseen circumstances had to settle for Arduaine. However Joan, my sister Marti and I arrived at Arduaine at dusk in a near gale to find George already on the camp site looking out at the damp Western Isles.

Malcolm Stewart and wife turned up in their 22 ft cruiser at lunch the next day, but we had by then decided to find kindlier launching and sailing. The pebble beach and the fresh onshore wind looked like hard work. George decided to trail over to Ardfern and Joan dreamed up Tayvallich. The second camp was situated at a small village with a sheltered harbour. Local boat people were helpful and friendly. Two men helped us launch Pladdy Lug down the slipway and lent Joan a mooring for the five days. The owner of the camp Mr MacArthur was very helpful and friendly and would have given us assistance in launching and recovering.

We sailed sedately down Loch Sween, sometimes picking up the following wind, sometimes almost at a standstill in the shadows of the surrounding hills. Meanwhile Andrew in his Mirror, darted here and there, in some conjured blast that seemed to elude us.

As we approached Castle Sween, the loch widened and the hills flattened out and we found a merry breeze that sent us scurrying towards the open sea and choppier water.

We turned for home, eating our sandwiches and tacking in long swings against a strengthening wind, so that Pladdy Lug heeled over and we braced our legs. This was fine sailing. Just as we reached the left angle turn for the harbour, the high hillside took our wind again and we slowed to slide round the corner. We had the tide with us and it was fairly easy tacking to find the passage between the rock at the entrance of the harbour.

The following day Joan and Marti went exploring up the fingers of the lock to the Fairy Isles, while I went into Lochgilphead. There are all sorts of pretty bays and tidal arms. In a good week there is plenty of interesting sailing, including for the intrepid, the Sound of Jura which is only about four miles across, with Islay in the distance. In the fluky conditions, which we had, there is plenty to see on land.

Our immediate camping neighbours were Priscilla and Rebecca, coppice and charcoal specialists, who were running a course for Woodland Conservancy in coracle making. We went up to the centre off the beaten track.

Priscilla and Rebecca were merry congenial companions who played cards with us in the pub on a wet evening and gave us invaluable assistance in recovering Pladdy Lug. We had her out of the water with the minimum of fuss, in one of the only windows of calm in a blustery week. The harbour was like a mirror. Rebecca brought her four wheel-drive truck down to the slip and pulled the trailer effortlessly onto the road and back to camp.

Our last sight of this happy pair was of them waving and sailing down the loch in their mini Mirror with bright blue mainsail and red jib.

The final night at camp brought a fierce storm. Never have I known my little frame tent flap and groan so noisily. With each gust I anticipated being left with bare poles staring up into a cloudy sky. But the pegs held and we were packed up and pulled out by 9.30. Sophie Annetts

NW Scotland — George’s Account

The weather on Saturday was hopeless, so I contented myself with having a look around, generally settling in, and having a read. Joan and companions duly arrived, and I was impressed by the speed with which they erected their tent in the stiff wind. The ‘slip’ at the campsite is a loose track leading down to the water. I was a bit concerned about wheel grip if the car was reversed down to launch level. I suppose a long line might be the answer.

On Sunday, conditions still not being to my liking, I went to check out the small slip adjacent to the Croabh marina. This is a hard slip and the only drawback seems a relative shortage of parking space. After Arduaine, I went down to Ardfern. The boatyard was not busy, so I had no trouble finding a suitable space. One disadvantage of Saga’s length, 18’‑3”, became apparent as they charge by the metre, so I had to part with £9 for launch/recovery and overnight stay. I reckon this is a bit much for such a small boat. Looking forward to a serious sail, I set about unpacking gear.

I decided to fit the rudder before launching as there would be no risk of it grounding off the end of the slip. I went back to the car for the rudder and realised that I had left it at home. Oh dear! After fuming for a while I went back to the office to cancel and get my money back, which they handed over with many commiserations. After restowing everything — very doleful — I found rational thought slowly returning. I was determined to have my sail and realised that there was only one thing to do. I returned to the office, paid up again, parked the trailer near the office and returned home for the night, 270 miles round trip, to collect the rudder.

Next day I launched at about 1.00pm. This was later than I had intended and I had missed the outgoing tide. I had to wait half an hour for the water to come back to the end of the slip. It also meant I would be sailing against the tide both out and in.

Even in the relatively sheltered area at the marina, the wind was fluky, so I rowed out till clear of the moorings. Not knowing what to expect of the wind, I played safe and took in the three reefs of the balanced lug before proceeding down the loch. Distance, as such, was not the object. Rather it was to see how we fared in reasonable and varied wind conditions. Our inaugural outing at Elie had been in the lightest of steady airs, which had been pleasant but not greatly informative. Although the wind was basically a light south’westerly, it varied greatly, both in strength and direction. One minute we would be drifting, the next, tearing off in an exciting burst of speed. Progress straight down the loch was not possible, so the course consisted of tacks from side to side. Even tacking was problematic, as no sooner had Saga come round than we would be headed by the shifting wind.

On one of the many tacks, we had come fairly close to the top island on the east side, only to find the wind playing up when I wanted to come round. It came and went, changed direction back and forth, and generally made a nonsense of all my efforts to get round and get going again. I had been messing about trying to resolve this, while the island came slowly closer, until it suddenly dawned what was about to happen. Sure enough, the wind came back for the last two or three yards, and helped us on to the rocks with a crunch. The shore consists of large rocks, as though somebody had been quarrying, and I found that we were neatly stuck, as the keel had lifted over a rock then dropped, so that when I tried to push off, it was no go. Meanwhile, as we came round parallel to the shore, the rudder found the only weed in sight and became entangled. I turned and leant aft to lift and free the rudder, and Saga, freed from the attentions of her owner, got on with it so that when I turned round again I found we were floating free. Weight transfer works wonders, sometimes. Having lowered the sail and applied the oars, I retreated to open water.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and I dropped the sail before rowing past the moorings to the slip. Because of the hull form and long oars, rowing is an easy, almost languid process, which, even with pauses, allows reasonable progress to be made. I intend to work at it.

I reached the slip a little after 6.00pm having been out for just over five hours, during which my sense of the passage of time had been almost non-existent. George Russell

Derwentwater September 21-23

Attending: David Chatterley 13’ Own Design Iona Bob Measures WW Potter Wren John & Bruce Lunt Star Trekka Tranquil (16’ cabin) John, Alix, Adam & Richard Hughes Lark Esmerelda/ Come What May Johnny Adams Wayfarer Mk 1 Noarlunga David Evans Family 14 Sona Alistair, Hilary & Jamie Sutherland Lune Pilot 12’6” No Name Don & Sonia Rigg Own design Raker Anthony Sluce Highlander 12 Fraoch Colin & Jayne Firth; Mike Jones Cruz Jenya

Good weather, good company, good venue and good food. What a combination. The good forecast must have impelled most folk to attend, for earlier in the week we’d been wondering if anyone would be sailing with us over the weekend. Then the phone started ringing as the weekend approached and we finally had a superb turnout.

Derwentwater Marina is an ideal DCA venue; a small field doubling as dinghy park and occasional camp site (with showers), small craft moorings along two sides, a couple of slips and excellent bar meals! Being at the northern edge of the lake it’s usually easy to get home with the prevailing southerly winds — however north’easterlies were our lot for the weekend, giving gentle but good sailing on the Saturday with gusty weather for Sunday.

Saturday dawned grey and windless, with not much improvement till about 11am. Still, it allowed us to take our time rigging and was perhaps a bonus for the many members attending a Derwentwater Rally for the first time — although a venerable Bob Measures did let slip that his parents had brought him here in 19**. Jayne & I were delighted to see so many new faces — some completely new to us, and some we’d met on other rallies. Particularly inspiring were Jamie, Adam & Richard, the youngsters who thoroughly enjoyed playing on the camp/boat field with other youngsters — especially with one little girl whose family had a sizeable (by DCA standards) cruiser! Then they even enjoyed the sailing!

The freshening breeze made us think about getting on the water, and we enjoyed good sailing in the northern area before gathering at St. Herbert’s Island for lunch. St. Herbert’s and Rampsholme islands are suitably fitted each with a gravel spit to the north, thus providing excellent landings for DCA lunch gatherings. So it was St. Herbert’s for Saturday lunch, with the sun now shining and fantastic scenery surrounding. In our microcosm all was right with the world.

There’s not a great deal of journeying to be done on Derwentwater, no long hauls up river or to a distant port; the beauty is just being here, and the sailing novelty is in exploring the islands and half-hidden bays that are the lake’s unique charm. The lake is a Site of Special Scientific Interest, the surrounding wetlands are important for breeding birds (including sandpiper and snipe) and the bays for wintering wildfowl. Great Bay, the obvious great bay forming the southern tip of the lake, is especially vulnerable and we keep well out. So the afternoon was spent variously in exploring — David, quietly adventurous, rowing up the river to the footbridge.

The focal point of the weekend was the superb meal provided in the marina’s Chartroom Bar. About twenty of us forgathered, the kitchen having been warned of our approach as it was end of season, and a serve-yourself selection of main courses was provided. The quality and friendliness were capped by the chef’s coming over to our table with a request for us to refill our plates. An excellent evening.

The high pressure continued on Sunday, giving NE winds again, but somewhat fresher than previously. Not surprisingly we had gusty conditions in the afternoon, with most of the single-handers reefing. In common with most mountain lakes Derwentwater can spring some nasty surprises. Not too bad with northerlies but when the more usual south’westerlies prevail we keep a weather eye on the southern end — which is tight into the hills and can provide spectacular whirlwind effects. It then belies its sunny-day charm and has in the past caused DCA boats to capsize — and indeed be holed, though neither with serious consequence. Some years ago a local cruiser was blown flat, filled and sank. But we had no such dramas this weekend, which ended as convivially as it had begun, with helping hands to slip boats and chats delaying departure. Our thanks go to Chris Bowns and Pete & Lynne of Derwentwater Marina for their friendly & relaxed hospitality. All in all it was a great weekend, Derwentwater is so delightful that whatever you do has got to be fun. Colin Firth

Ullswater October 5-7

Rachel Ryan and Bill Jones were the first to arrive on Thursday evening staying at a local bed & breakfast and encouraged by a weather forecast of gales and heavy showers for the whole weekend. Nothing daunted on Friday morning they rigged and launched Arion their Cruz dinghy. Set off from Ullswater Marina with heavily reefed sail and a bucket of optimism.

Strong southerly wind funnelling up the lake from the Glenridding end F5 gusting 6, white topped waves and rather difficult sailing conditions. They gave up after an hour and pulled out which more or less coincided with my arrival. I rigged Jezelle, my recently acquired Shipmate Senior, pulling the mast up with the help of Bill. I launched and tied up at the nearly submerged jetty. Late afternoon lashing rain and howling wind. I stayed where I was and cooked my evening meal in the cabin. Wild all night.

Saturday fine but very very windy. I was joined by Jim Byers who sailed across from the Waterside camp site in his Wayfarer. His anemometer recorded wind gusting F6 in the shelter of the bay. Margaret and Mike Jones arrived without boat and joined Jim and I on Jezelle for a brew. Rachel and Bill decided not to sail and went to the steamboat museum instead. John Mayes with Lynda and Bob Abbott were at the marina next door ready to pull Dart out of the water. Jim decided to pull out and depart for home. In the evening Rachel, Bill and I dined up at the Brackenrigg Hotel. Another wild night.

Sunday dawned still but with nasty looking cloud all around. I took advantage of the stillness and pulled out early. It had been almost spooky on the jetty overnight with all the craft usually moored up there pulled out of the water for the winter. Arion went a’sailing but not for long, pulled out and, after helping me to lower my mast, departed. I was just about to go when a happy sailor came creaming in on his surfboard, it was Mike Cottam come to see if we had a meet. He told me that he had only fallen off once and after a brief chat away he went again. Mike always seems to arrive, usually in a kayak, stays around only a short time then departs. Brian McClellan