There’s no fool like an old fool. What about; no fool like two old fools?

From the beginning I would like to exempt Joan from most of responsibility for the following scrapes. She just happened to be there, squeaking and squawking from the foredeck.

St Just-in-Roseland is one of the happiest places for a rally. The campsite is friendly, comfortable and clean. The creek, though with its share of mud and pebbles and high spring tides liable to strand cars of the unwary, is safe and private in a beautiful setting.

It is lovely to meet old friends again and make new ones. Luxury; we had all our meals cooked for us by some personal friends — soon to become DCA members we hope, but I will leave their adventures in a Tinker Traveller to someone else. Carrick Roads and its numerous creeks and rivers, is ideal for safe sailing, bird watching and tranquillity. And then there is the sea for those wanting a different kind of sailing.

The Ramming of King Harry’s Ferry

“I hope you weren’t flying the DCA burgee!” said Brian.

I’ve bought a Honda 2hp 4stroke and am bemused by it. Do you steer by the handle or the tiller? There seems to be very little adjustment between tick-over and screaming ahead. Very alarming.

To return to my excuses; because I have a new engine, the mainsheet had to be moved from the horse, otherwise it would have got caught up. My new arrangement meant that when tacking I seemed to have the mainsheet in one hand and the tiller in the other, while performing a merry dance across the boat. (It’s all right. It will be fixed by the next outing.)

Well, Joan and I set off with a following wind and tide to lunch at Malpas. By the time we reached the river Fal in a heavenly swoop, the wind began playing Bo-Peep tricks between the wooded hills and the valleys. Sometimes it would roar along with the strong tide and sometimes it just died altogether, but it didn’t matter as we were being pushed upstream.

Rounding a corner, there was the King Harry Ferry loading on the southern bank. We drifted relentlessly but gently towards it, thinking it must move soon. But no; it dallied and at last, slowly, slowly began to gather up its chains and creep across. It was going a little too fast for us to be able to sneak in front without any wind to help.

With Joan shrieking “Go about! Go about!” we performed a circle and as we were doing so, the wind returned in strength. The ferry still had not left us enough room to slide through astern and now we were running parallel. Sense having left me, we made horrid contact with its reinforced iron car ramp. After which, to everyone’s amazement and amusement, we sailed straight through the gap in front of her.

Oh dear! Poor Curlew! Expecting a huge hole at the very least, she got away with a minor dent in a solid wooden rowlock block.

Helford River

On another glorious day, we sailed gently down, past St Mawes and Falmouth to the entrance of the Roads, making use of the ebbing tide. We only meant to have a peek outside, but emboldened by the engine as a means of getting back if all else failed, we set off on a course for Helford. Tearing nicely along over a gentle swell, past the coastguard ship and a huge floating hotel or prison ship, we arrived at the mouth of the Helford.

Naturally Joan and I had a mild, long running argument over which headland was which. We intended to go right down to the moorings, but I was having trouble with tacking, so we turned at the dark cave on the northern shore and scurried for home.

The wind had increased. There was a fair amount of water flying about. Dreading the tacking, I was praying all the way across that we would actually make St Just creek in one run. No such luck. Oh, what a mess I made of it! What despair, back and forth across the Roads. It was quite rough and we took on quite a bit of spray. I had been able to do this last year and the years before that. Back to early principles. T.C.P. Trap, Change, Push. Of course.

Anyway, we had a marvellous day. Joan said she had not enjoyed such a good sail for years.

Truro

We went into Truro to buy extra pieces to rearrange the mainsheet. Now it’s more or less the right idea, but there still isn’t enough room for a large lady to creep elegantly across the boat. Don’t despair. Peter Glover will fix it!

Truro was looking an attractive city in the sunshine; well worth a visit, but we were in a hurry for lunch at Restronguet.

The Tempest!

Nothing to do with the weather; I wanted to pack the car and boat carefully and logically for the return drive early next morning. It would take more or less all day. Joan wanted to go to Malpas for lunch. We had not made it earlier in the week. She wanted us to motor there against the wind and tide and sail back. We arrived in rather a muddle between engine and oars and moored boats. The jetty owner, who was kindness itself, said he didn’t think we were fit to be on the sea! He could have been right!

We had a delicious lunch and made off back down the river. Joan wanted to sail all the way with the tide running in our favour. By quarter to two we took the sweep of the bend away from Malpas and I could not understand why the tiller would not respond. There we were stuck in the mud watching the traffic glide up and down the main channel — and I exploded!

Poor old Joan received the full blast of my ire, which ranged from seething, to fury, to frustration. And there was nothing to do until the tide returned. Trevor and Jenny, and Frank and Margaret came to have a look at us and went away. With immense kindness and forethought they arranged for Ben and Pru to wait for us back at the landing. When my rage had abated we passed the time feeling foolish and bird watching. (Avocets. More things to take when you are creek-creeping: binoculars and a good book). We floated off at half past five.

Just as we entered the Roads, something came adrift in the engine. Being unfamiliar I could not understand why I was forced to use my hand to maintain the throttle speed and was fighting with the tiller to hold a course. The penny dropped at last that a small screw just needed a turn to keep the speed steady. “You need not have worried. We could have sailed in.”

“Yes, I know, Joan. I just want to get back and pack the car and the boat.”

We had a brilliant week.