I had finished tidying up some loose wiring on my Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ when the sky started to clear and the sun came out. Coaxing the outboard to start and slipping the lines didn’t take long and we were off, sailing the Holy Loch in a nice force two. This sort of sailing is something I love and soon I was deep in a trance, mesmerized by the chuckle of wavelets on the hull and the flicker of sun on water. After a while I noticed how long it was taking reaching the Clyde and the Strone point buoy. I was sailing very badly! On my other boat, a twenty-eight foot Twister class, the genoa has tell-tales. On ‘Trivial Pursuit’ we have none. I was reading the waves (wavelets really) made by the now force three into which we were sailing. This should have been sufficient yet I was making a mess of it. I have sailed since 1973, owned eight boats and done thousands of sea miles and I was making a monumental spheroid of sailing a twenty-one foot junk-rig boat up the loch in a flat sea! Check the rig: Sail fully hoisted and sheeted just outboard of the rail. Yard-hauling-parrel pulled in, Luff-hauling-parrel pulled in, all as they should be. My boat was trying to tell me something? While I fiddled with ropes and gazed aloft to spy any anomalies I had of course let go the tiller. Do that on a conventionally rigged boat and she will gently turn to windward and stop, sails flapping. Not ‘Trivial Pursuit’. We were still under way, not stopped or going in the wrong direction. In fact she was making her way upwind better on her own than with me pulling rank and steering. This was fascinating and worth study. She hunted the wind a little, bearing away a fraction, then luffing slightly but not losing speed and obviously much closer to the wind than I had steered. She ignored the waves and hunted the wind. A master class in how to do it! Drat, I had taken the kettle to the other boat so could not make tea while my little Corribee got on with it. (memo to self: Don’t fall overboard, she will not stop for you!)
Friday 30 October 2015
Master Class
Master Class
I had finished tidying up some loose wiring on my Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ when the sky started to clear and the sun came out. Coaxing the outboard to start and slipping the lines didn’t take long and we were off, sailing the Holy Loch in a nice force two. This sort of sailing is something I love and soon I was deep in a trance, mesmerized by the chuckle of wavelets on the hull and the flicker of sun on water. After a while I noticed how long it was taking reaching the Clyde and the Strone point buoy. I was sailing very badly! On my other boat, a twenty-eight foot Twister class, the genoa has tell-tales. On ‘Trivial Pursuit’ we have none. I was reading the waves (wavelets really) made by the now force three into which we were sailing. This should have been sufficient yet I was making a mess of it. I have sailed since 1973, owned eight boats and done thousands of sea miles and I was making a monumental spheroid of sailing a twenty-one foot junk-rig boat up the loch in a flat sea! Check the rig: Sail fully hoisted and sheeted just outboard of the rail. Yard-hauling-parrel pulled in, Luff-hauling-parrel pulled in, all as they should be. My boat was trying to tell me something? While I fiddled with ropes and gazed aloft to spy any anomalies I had of course let go the tiller. Do that on a conventionally rigged boat and she will gently turn to windward and stop, sails flapping. Not ‘Trivial Pursuit’. We were still under way, not stopped or going in the wrong direction. In fact she was making her way upwind better on her own than with me pulling rank and steering. This was fascinating and worth study. She hunted the wind a little, bearing away a fraction, then luffing slightly but not losing speed and obviously much closer to the wind than I had steered. She ignored the waves and hunted the wind. A master class in how to do it! Drat, I had taken the kettle to the other boat so could not make tea while my little Corribee got on with it. (memo to self: Don’t fall overboard, she will not stop for you!)
I had finished tidying up some loose wiring on my Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ when the sky started to clear and the sun came out. Coaxing the outboard to start and slipping the lines didn’t take long and we were off, sailing the Holy Loch in a nice force two. This sort of sailing is something I love and soon I was deep in a trance, mesmerized by the chuckle of wavelets on the hull and the flicker of sun on water. After a while I noticed how long it was taking reaching the Clyde and the Strone point buoy. I was sailing very badly! On my other boat, a twenty-eight foot Twister class, the genoa has tell-tales. On ‘Trivial Pursuit’ we have none. I was reading the waves (wavelets really) made by the now force three into which we were sailing. This should have been sufficient yet I was making a mess of it. I have sailed since 1973, owned eight boats and done thousands of sea miles and I was making a monumental spheroid of sailing a twenty-one foot junk-rig boat up the loch in a flat sea! Check the rig: Sail fully hoisted and sheeted just outboard of the rail. Yard-hauling-parrel pulled in, Luff-hauling-parrel pulled in, all as they should be. My boat was trying to tell me something? While I fiddled with ropes and gazed aloft to spy any anomalies I had of course let go the tiller. Do that on a conventionally rigged boat and she will gently turn to windward and stop, sails flapping. Not ‘Trivial Pursuit’. We were still under way, not stopped or going in the wrong direction. In fact she was making her way upwind better on her own than with me pulling rank and steering. This was fascinating and worth study. She hunted the wind a little, bearing away a fraction, then luffing slightly but not losing speed and obviously much closer to the wind than I had steered. She ignored the waves and hunted the wind. A master class in how to do it! Drat, I had taken the kettle to the other boat so could not make tea while my little Corribee got on with it. (memo to self: Don’t fall overboard, she will not stop for you!)
Saturday 17 October 2015
Mist and Sun
Mist and sun
Today is the 17th of October. A day of mist and sun but little wind. It takes only a moment to ready my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’, slip the lines and we are off. An irregular strip of mist clings to the woods crowning the steep hills of the loch’s north bank. The houses lining the road at their foot glow in the autumn sun. The sky with it’s miserly dotting of puffball clouds is a deep intense blue. I’m freezing! Even a full offshore sailing kit with hat and gloves, plus a serious beard, cannot block the wind chill. But we don’t care! My little boat and me are having a great old time. I ease my bulk to the lea inducing extra heel and the force-two chuckles us along. It is the sort of day where one breaths slowly, savouring the air like chilled summer wine. The land sounds are faint like friendly insects. We are alone on the water. The sea and sky and the wind belong to us.
Today is the 17th of October. A day of mist and sun but little wind. It takes only a moment to ready my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’, slip the lines and we are off. An irregular strip of mist clings to the woods crowning the steep hills of the loch’s north bank. The houses lining the road at their foot glow in the autumn sun. The sky with it’s miserly dotting of puffball clouds is a deep intense blue. I’m freezing! Even a full offshore sailing kit with hat and gloves, plus a serious beard, cannot block the wind chill. But we don’t care! My little boat and me are having a great old time. I ease my bulk to the lea inducing extra heel and the force-two chuckles us along. It is the sort of day where one breaths slowly, savouring the air like chilled summer wine. The land sounds are faint like friendly insects. We are alone on the water. The sea and sky and the wind belong to us.
Tuesday 6 October 2015
Things to remember
Things to remember
When getting my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ ready to set off for another ‘interesting’ adventure I have to check many things including the outboard motor which today refused to start. I have rejected my first idea that the problem was caused by strait-forward jealousy on the part of the motor because I had arrived this afternoon with a pair of eight foot oars and an intention to test their effectiveness? Anyhow, the dratted thing would not listen to my sweet words. About Oars: Years ago my Spanish friend and crew objected to the word Oars and said we should call them Rows as we rowed with them. (We didn’t oar with them did we?) After a reasonably long interval of heaving on the starting cord, fiddling with the choke, fuel and throttle, I gave up and went looking for a mechanic. (we are blessed at Holy Loch, not only do we have good mechanics they are quite often around when you need them!) It is always a pleasure watching a man who knows what he is doing and soon the culprit was located. There is a thing called a ’Kill cord’ which, when attached to you, will pull out and stop the motor if you fall overboard. It has a distorted ’Y’ shape on one end and a metal clip on the other. Connecting them is a red twisted cord, a bit like those long ones we had on phones before Mobiles were invented. The trouble with some Kill Cords is that they are too short so most people just clip them to a handy stanchion like me! Now there are two ‘Y’ things on my Kill Cord. The correct size and a larger one that’s loose enough to kill the motor without falling off. Guess which one I was using?
When getting my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ ready to set off for another ‘interesting’ adventure I have to check many things including the outboard motor which today refused to start. I have rejected my first idea that the problem was caused by strait-forward jealousy on the part of the motor because I had arrived this afternoon with a pair of eight foot oars and an intention to test their effectiveness? Anyhow, the dratted thing would not listen to my sweet words. About Oars: Years ago my Spanish friend and crew objected to the word Oars and said we should call them Rows as we rowed with them. (We didn’t oar with them did we?) After a reasonably long interval of heaving on the starting cord, fiddling with the choke, fuel and throttle, I gave up and went looking for a mechanic. (we are blessed at Holy Loch, not only do we have good mechanics they are quite often around when you need them!) It is always a pleasure watching a man who knows what he is doing and soon the culprit was located. There is a thing called a ’Kill cord’ which, when attached to you, will pull out and stop the motor if you fall overboard. It has a distorted ’Y’ shape on one end and a metal clip on the other. Connecting them is a red twisted cord, a bit like those long ones we had on phones before Mobiles were invented. The trouble with some Kill Cords is that they are too short so most people just clip them to a handy stanchion like me! Now there are two ‘Y’ things on my Kill Cord. The correct size and a larger one that’s loose enough to kill the motor without falling off. Guess which one I was using?
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