--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "authfriend" <authfriend@...> wrote: > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "PaliGap" <compost1uk@> wrote: >> >> --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "authfriend" <authfriend@> wrote: > (snip) >>> I could indeed. What I'd really like to do is to take a >>> cruise on a freighter (container ship). Many such ships >>> these days have a cabin or two for folks who want a quiet, >>> relaxed ocean voyage but can't stand the idea of one of >>> those monster cruise ships. You're one of only a handful >>> of passengers, and you get treated like royalty, eat in >>> the officers' mess, have the run of the ship, get friendly >>> with the crew, stop at non-touristy ports of call. No >>> frills, but supposedly very comfortable accommodations.
>> A decade or so ago a friend of my Mum's went on such a trip >> and had a fabulous time. She is the town's ex-vicar's ex- >> wife. Following her divorce she discovered a love for the >> sea and for many years sailed a 26' yacht around the >> English South West coast (where the Spanish Armada began to >> get unstuck) and around the Med. > Now, that's what I'd *really* like to do. Sadly, a 26-foot > yacht ain't in the budget. Motor or sail? Sail. Her boat "Kate" was I think a Westerly Centaur 26. Such as this: http://goo.gl/F4BJJ They were sturdy boats built in the seventies. Many are still seeing action and trading hands for not such big bucks. For an inanimate object, Joan had a pretty profound relationship with Kate. I believe failing health finally forced her to sell up in the end; but that was just a few years ago in her eighties. I'm sure she was gutted. Memories of Kate... On one occasion Joan took Kate out for a day trip from her home port of Salcombe with a few friends (including my mother). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salcombe. Unfortunately a thick sea fog descended just as they were heading back. In those days no one had GPS - you had to plot your course on a chart and use "dead reckoning". Everyone had the utmost confidence in Joan, who was both highly experienced and proficient in navigation. But even so they all got a bit of shock when the fog lifted slightly and revealed that they had just inched through an extremely narrow gap between a large rock and the headland. You can just make it out here: http://goo.gl/tXU4q In my student days I would return to Salcombe to work in the local hotels and sail (dinghies). One day the call came from Joan - would I like to join her for a three day trip around the coast to Teignmouth? As per usual she had a couple of English language students staying for the summer. One was a Dutch guy, whose name escapes me. The other was a French girl, Sylvie, whom I remember somewhat better (funny that). Both would be on the voyage, but neither had had any sailing experience. How flattering to think I may have been called up for my expertise! So I accepted without a seond thought. We set off in the evening to 'catch the tide'. And as I recall it was a beautiful, calm night with a full moon as we crossed the Salcombe bar and headed out to sea. The bar here is not the kind that Sinatra sang about in "One For My Baby"; it's a sand spit lurking close to the surface at the harbour entrance where waves can break at low tide (and turn very ugly in a strong southerly). If my mind had been on higher things, instead of trying to impress Sylvie, some words of Tennyson might have come to mind - a poem inspired by the Salcombe bar, at least if we are to believe the local tourist office: Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness or farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar. Maybe the climax of our little voyage was less sublime, but our spirits were restored just the same by some fish and chips and an overnight stop in Teignmouth. Coming back the weather turned against us. It was chilly and grey with a bit of rain. The wind had freshened a bit, and was now against us, meaning that we had to tack back (perform a series of zig-zags) with the sails sheeted in as hard as possible to get Kate to sail as close to the wind as she could. All went well until it came to getting around the final headland - Start Point: http://goo.gl/VJMbh Of those on board, only Joan knew that it was going to get a bit fearsome as we stood out to sea the necessary few miles in order to make our final turn for home. This is because with the outgoing tide, all the water in The English Channel piles up at Start Point in order to escape to the Atlantic creating a tidal "race". With wind against tide you can get a sea forming that's out of all proportion to the weather conditions. And that's how it turned out to be, as plucky Kate with Joan at the helm tossed and pranced out towards the horizon like one of Ann's stallions with a thistle up its derriere. When she judged that we'd finally got ourselves into position to make our turn, Joan called out the time-honoured command "Ready about, lee-ho" and put the tiller hard over. That was my cue to release the forward sail (jib) and then haul in on the other side, all the while attempting to look as cool as a cucumber under the watchful eye of my comely French shipmate. But as sod's law would have it a most improbable thing went wrong; as the jib blew across, a shackle managed to hit and snap itself around a shroud. A freakish event, but one which made our boat temporarily unsailable. "Richard", for it is I, "Would you mind just popping forward and freeing the sheet?" said Joan calmly, but in the authoritative manner of the officer class that had sent men 'over the top' in the trenches. What was that look in Sylvie's eye? Was it that of a damsel in distress whose grattitude could only be imagined? Or perhaps "get on with it English boy. If my 6'6" French boyfriend were here Joan would not even have had to ask". Be that as it may, I struggled forward and did the deed: http://youtu.be/TIzEebWdrB0. Surprised myself really. But when I think back it was a little reckless. I know for a fact that I was not wearing a harness. And I'm pretty sure none of us were wearing lifejackets. Quite unthinkable in this day and age. Nowadays I sail a boat not unlike Kate: http://goo.gl/wXSsi - just many, many notches down on the derring-do scale. A few hours sailing around the bay or nosing around the creeks, find a nice spot to anchor and watch the sun set with a G&T. Bliss. La Mer: http://youtu.be/fd_nopTFuZA
