The Sunspot emerged in the latter part of the swinging sixties, a decade where everything became miniaturised. Transistors replaced valves and the pocket radio was born. We had the mini car, the mini skirt, and in that decade, a plethora of pocket cruisers, all under 17’, were built. This was the “small is good” era, after which yachts gradually grew larger again and today, hardly any under 20’ are built. Production of the Sunspot began in 1967/8 and they were marketed as being suitable for the dinghy sailor wanting to move ‘up’ — wherever that is — with a performance that wouldn’t disappoint. My boat, number 29, is an early version. The newest I know of is 204 and belongs to another member, Christine Hunt. Many were exported, so if you’re looking for one, be warned, they’re fairly rare.

Sunspots are 15’ in length with a 13’6” waterline and, if you can believe it, an overall beam of 6’3”(!) — although waterline beam is less. She has twin bilge keels and a skeg, giving her a fixed draft of 1’10”. Normal working sail area is 105 sq ft with 50 in the foresail and 55 in the main. However there is a 75 sq ft genoa, which I have subsequently purchased and which pulls like a Derby winner on the home stretch. The other vital statistics are 900 lbs displacement of which 400 is ballast — about the same weight/ballast ratio as a solid old fishing smack. So, given all that weight, she’s not much of a flyer in light airs, but she will look after you well in a blow.

I first got into these small, ballasted cabin cruisers when my wife felt that at 60, I should not be plugging round the coast in my Mirror and although I felt confident enough, I recognised that she had a point. I first bought a Sharkey, followed by a Skipper 17 from Richmond Marine, then one from the Skipper Boat Company — not unlike the modern Eagle. Both the Skippers are jolly good and are to be recommended, unlike the Sharkey which you shouldn’t touch with a bargepole.

It was quite an accident which brought a Sunspot, and for some while, I kept both boats. But finally, and with some hesitation, I decided to part with my Skipper and keep The Genie (so named because I felt she was small enough to have come out of a bottle). There was the usual period of wondering if I’d made the right decision, but with every trip I took, I grew even more impressed by her performance and would recommend her to anyone provided you are willing to accept the limitations such a boat places on you. To start with, don’t be fooled by her dinghy size. With that weight, those bilge keels, and the relative difficulty of stepping the mast on a cabin top, she’s not the easiest of boats to launch and recover. You need the right kind of ramp, the right depth of water and some help, I believe. Which brings in the whole question of whether to have a crew or not. Although she’s supposed to be a 2 + 2 berth boat, I simply prefer single-handing, feeling the small cockpit is difficult with more than one aboard. Christine Hunt might say differently if you ask her, since she’s sailed with her daughter and the dog. Another member, Chris Anstock who owned number 131, has actually sailed and slept three up and frequently sailed with his dog. So bear in mind my prejudices. I’m sure we’ll all agree though, the cockpit is small, which is nice since everything comes easily to hand. There’s no reaching or stretching. However, when I find myself regularly sitting on the jib sheet whilst trying to come about, I realise that it’s not only the hand that everything comes to! However, the cabin is something else.

I frequently chummy along with Dave Smith, who keeps his Skipper near me, and when we raft up in the evening for a yarn and a beer, he and his crew prefer to come aboard the Sunspot since the cabin can accommodate us all more easily. There’s good headroom — indeed I think we could get Fred Astaire, complete with top hat, in there. Not so sure about Ginger though, with her long legs. Stretching out for a night’s sleep is easy and there’s buckets of stowage room for weekend gear underneath. The bunks continue on the same level (unlike the Skipper) from underneath the cockpit seats, right round, finally meeting in the forepeak. There’s space for a loo just forward of the mast and room for a cooker under the cockpit sole: all simple and straightforward. Buoyancy is in the forepeak and under the bunks at the after end.

If you fancy one, there is an important difference between older and newer boats. Older ones have a huge spreader and the shrouds taken right out to the gun’ls. Newer ones have shorter spreaders with shrouds taken inboard to chain plates bolted to the cabin sides. The older style means difficulties setting the jenny, if you want one, since the clew has to go between the cap and lower shrouds and the leach can only come back as far as that spreader. On the later boats, the foresail sets outside. Mine’s been converted over to the newer rig and it makes a heck of a difference.

Three things I think are essential, the first being an echo sounder, for obvious reasons, although I managed for 4 years without one. The second is roller reefing: climbing onto the pitching foredeck to change a headsail is not an experience you’ll wish to repeat. Thirdly, a blow-up dinghy: I have a kid’s toy inflatable, which is safe enough to ferry me ashore in shallow water. Bear in mind that with that sort of draft, you’ll not be able to kick yourself close up on the beach among the dinghies at a DCA rally. She’s a wetter boat than the Skipper since she’s without the Skipper’s flared bow. But she seems to be able to cope with some pretty horrible conditions — conditions which sometimes scare the hell out of me, but which she seems to take in her stride. And, given that weight/ballast ratio, she won’t regularly plane like a dinghy either, although I have had her doing it more than once — again with my hair standing on end — but she has no problems. The Genie and I have now covered over 6,000 miles together in every kind of weather, all over the Thames Estuary.

What does she look like? Bob Measures, who’s had an unconsummated love affair with a Sunspot and has tried unsuccessfully to buy one, told me he thinks they are beautiful boats. However, proving that beauty is only in the eye of the beholder, Charles Proudfoot described mine as ‘an ugly little duckling’ and I rather tend to agree with him. However, as I thought at the time, it must be like having a wife whose face isn’t exactly pretty. But, if she’s got a figure like Dolly Parton and can cook like Delia Smith, you wouldn’t worry too much about the face, would you? Especially if she’s a bit of a goer — and that the Sunspot most certainly is!