A Good Colour

'No good Horse is a bad colour', they say

My little junk rigged Coromandel ‘Butterfly’ is a good and willing horse. Well sea-horse! (So the title isn‘t totally nuts)
After several weeks of nail-biting (shall I? shan't I?) the decision was made and Butterfly’s white sail went to my local sail-maker to be duplicated.
Now the word duplicated doesn’t do justice to the immaculate object that came home with the battens and the old white sail on Wednesday.
It spent a day laying in state in the front room still in its bag, as I doubted I could get it folded up neat enough to go back in.
Good sail-makers like mine make their bags big as owners never fold the sails as neat, but I still chickened.
So today, with light winds and a promise of sun without rain, I started to dress Butterfly. Some JR people lay the sail out on the floor, slide in the battens and lace them up, then take the complete bundle to the boat.
 I don’t!
If I did this at home I’d never be able to lift the bundle onto the van roof-rack. At the marina all floors are mucky!
So from 10:00 until around 13:00 I laced the bits together. “I thought those Junk Rigs were simple! Said a fellow boater. “They are” I said leaving  him a tad baffled.
 At last it was done and we went sailing in a gentle F3. Now all sailors will tell you when they have spent (far too much) money on a new sail, how much better their pride and joy sails.
Well it’s true! As for the colour? Well my wife chose it to match the cream deck and be in harmony with the yellow hull.
Never argue colour with an artist, they know best! Anyhow, no good boat is a bad colour and I like it.

Everything in it's place

Everything in it's place?

On a small boat, like my 21 foot Coromandel ‘Butterfly‘ everything from sleeping bags to screwdrivers and even chocolate biscuits, must have their own special place otherwise all is chaos!
I cannot stand up inside my boat. I am 6 feet tall and the headroom inside is 4 feet 6inches. So, I’m either sitting or lying down when below decks.
This is fine so long as things are put back in order. (and I remember where that is?)
Now, after several months of sailing and organising, things are mostly sorted.
Except for where to store me at night?
The quarter berth is 7 feet long and wide enough for sleep, but so useful to temporarily stow spare jackets, a boat hook, the seldom used solar panel, cushions, sleeping bag, rope and other not-in-their-place-yet items.
The double berth up foreword, bisected by the mast, must be too difficult to wriggle into I had thought.
Today, after three months prevarication, I made the attempt.
Now the combination of stiff knees and middle age spread (ok old age indulgence!) was not in my favour, but with a few grunts and the odd expletive I was in.
Such luxury!
The mast became a friendly thing to cuddle (insulated so not cold) which stopped me falling out. There was ample space for legs (not more than two) and I could turn in both directions and still have room to breath. After a few minuets contemplation of this treasure I had a little snooze.
Everything in it’s place.

A stich in time

A stitch in time is a good thing they say.
I cannot disagree, I wish that someone had done just that on the white junk sail.

'Butterfly,' my little Coromandel, has the original professionally made junk sail which must be at least 33 years old.
The sail has been patched more than once, but not recently.
Now several wooden battens have burst, or are threatening to burst through the sun-rotted cloth so something must be done.

Sewing damaged sails is not a new experience to me (most cruising sailors have done it) but this looks like darning spider webs!
Fortunately there is something called ‘Heavy duty sail repair tape’ which is now a must-have part of my JR kit.

The trick I discovered was to cut a finger-length piece of tape and curl it around my finger (sticky side out) then slide into the threadbare batten pocket and stick to the inside. Then another piece was stuck to the outside and Bob was my proverbial.
Sewing this newly extended pocket to the leach was a bit of a battle, even with proper needles and a sail-makers-palm, but it was done and the results were sound.

The temptation to go mad and get a new sail (which I cannot afford) grows day by day!

Here we go again!

Here we go again!

Last year I had a little junk rigged Corribee called 'Trivial Pursuit' but having two boats was too much so I sold her. The following Spring I sold her companion the Twister ‘Shandie‘.

Total panic, I had no boat!

Curing this terrible state of boat-less-ness was not a problem as I had spied ‘Butterfly’ in the Autumn over at James Watt Dock, just a few miles away. Offer made and accepted, boat dangled from a crane and tapped for faults (nothing vital) money paid and a 1984 Coromandel (sister design to the Corribee) was mine

‘Butterfly’ is the Junk Rig version of the Corribee, almost the same underwater but with a total redesign of the cockpit and cabin. For me the most important change is an increase in sitting headroom. (making tea is now a pleasure) She has a 5HP outboard set in a well, so no more hanging off the stern trying to start stubborn uncooperative lumps of engineering.
The Galley has a spirit hob and reasonable stowage.
Forward is an almost double berth (if you discount the mast!) and plenty of ventilation including a hatch. Aft there is a generous quarter-berth.
Wonder of wonders, there is even an enclosed toilet area with a door!
Every time I board ‘Butterfly’ I thank the brilliant designer for all this and room for a fifteen stone sailor.

Fish don't care

Fish don’t care

Some things work out very well, some others are less well favoured.
A week ago my little Junk Rigged Corribee was launched. She slipped daintily off her trailer and I’m sure there was a shimmy of delight at being in her proper environment, or relief at hiding the imperfect antifouling? Any-how, the fish don’t care.

Today we went sailing.
I have had some problems with the outboard (Note to self: Will not start when the fuel tap is in the OFF position) and it can it randomly stall when the throttle is opened up. (only in an emergency!)
There was a shy, teasing, force two when we cast off so no need to worry about the problematic motor, which of course behaved with smug perfection.

I was determined to push myself a little and discover what I forgot since  we last sailed together. (30th October 2015) Picking up a mooring under sail? No problem! Which deserved a cup of Red-bush tea while pondering the mast windage making it easier to moor by the stern, unless a fifteen stone man can get to the bow before she blows off.
Tea drunk, problems put aside, off we go again to enjoy the day. Ashore the temperature is thirteen degrees, at sea it feels about two. So, wrapped from head to foot in full sailing kit (including thermals and gloves) we enjoy the day.

Several hours go by and the shy F2 is beginning to annoy when at last, a sea breeze asserts its self. We go from just making steerage to belting to windward in a rising F3, er now F4. Time to reef!
With a junk rig reefing takes about as long as it takes to write. (I’m a slow typist, but) You whip a rope out of a jammer and the sail rattles down propelled by the weight of the many battens. Trivial Pursuit settled into her I’m getting there stride. Another five minuets of this, belting along to windward in jolly style and I reverted to ‘Gentleman’ mode, that is, turned down wind and headed for home and thirteen degrees of warmth. (and more Red-bush tea)

Waiting for the tide

Waiting for the tide.

On a dull coldish day in mid April my little (drip free) Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ is finally ready to be launched. Tomorrow starts the 2016 season of adventures. There may even be sun!
Winter has been a bit of a test. After my last sail at the end of October the weather closed in. Gales and rain were followed by rain and mean spirited gusts, then more gales. The outboard went on strike, the drips got worse and the fenders furtively rubbed away at the paintwork. We hauled her out to sit the winter on her trailer in November.
Slowly the drips, which had become somewhat torrential, were tracked down and eliminated. A new electric bilge pump was fitted. Most importantly, an irritating storage-box thing that once held a sink (long gone, replaced by a bucket) was removed and now I have a bunk to sleep on. Well snooze on at any rate.
We lowered the mast to replace a double block that was sticking and clicking without braining any body. The other day we got it up again with little pain and two helpers. The sail was hoisted smoothly for the first time this year and only a few ropes were wrongly threaded.
Tomorrow I shall discover how much I’ve forgot!

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!)