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!)

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.

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?

Cover Up

Cover up

My little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ needs a sail cover. The ultra-violet element of sunlight has a bad effect on synthetic sail-cloth and I have already patched her sail rather too much. (the gorgeous terracotta sail has a rash of bright red zits!) Some of the trouble is caused by battens chafing when the sail is reefed or dropped to form the romantically named ‘Bundle’, hence the sail cover thingy!
Now when I purchased TP back in early August the previous owner told me there was a cover but it was too small. I tried it and it seemed he was correct. So after a couple of all-in wrestling matches (which I lost) I stuck the uncooperative thing back in the stern locker.
Today the high pressure is fading, as is the memory of sun-glimmer on tranquil waters and rich blue skies and so I had a one-last-go at fitting the cover.
One thing the Junk Rig teaches me is that you must do things in the correct order. OK it’s easy to reef, hoist and trim, but forming a neat Bundle that is an art. Now at last I think I’ve got it!
Buoyed up with hope and copious amounts of string (an essential on a JR boat) I hauled the ‘Thing’ out of its den.
What I had deduced was that it wasn’t too small at all, it was the bundle which needed to swing back and line up the mast with the appropriate opening in the sail cover. (by now perceptive readers will have figured out that I’m stupid!) Only a quarter of an hour later, pushing and pulling, with the application of string and very little blood (blood doesn’t show on a terracotta sail!) and the job was done. Then it started to rain.

Going to Windward

Windward dreams

Today I determined to find out how well my Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’ sails to windward. It is the conventional wisdom that “Junks cannot sail to windward”  I have done a lot of sea miles since 1973, both coastal and offshore, using the ubiquitous white triangular sails that these days are regarded as normal. My three Trimarans tacked in 90 degrees (ok one of them was nearer 100?) but that never stopped  me getting to exotic destinations! My monohulls were a lot better, (well not the Gaff Cutter)  but unfortunately I never made a careful note of exactly how much better. So today we did take notes. It was a fine bright day with blue sky and cumulous clouds and the waters of the Holy Loch were stippled with a F2 fading at times to a F1. I wrote down the compass heading as soon as the boat had settled down on each new tack.
Here are the results.
70 then 150 degrees 90 then 160 degrees 80 then 170 degrees 75 then 145 degrees 70 then 150 degrees. Wow! I’m itching to try in stronger winds as I think she will not be as close winded, though I have sailed in a F3 with about the same results. (didn’t write them down, Drat!)
Well that proves it, Junks are such rubbish to windward!