solent clown
RIP
IMG_20180508_055615 by mark punksteel, on FlickrOur early morning walk was magical, crossing the park near the moorings, seagulls were contentedly bathing in the dew on the uncropped verdant riot of grass and dandelions, the mist was still gently boiling over the macadam of the road, and the dawn chorus seemed to have been sung forever.
We reached the pontoon to be greeted with the magnificent spectacle of the early sun dashing a long orange flame across the surface of the river, not flowing, but almost sighing in the soporific lazy early morning way we all do, man and beast.
We slipped away as quietly and respectfully as seemed fitting for such a peaceful morn, and made our way along the Itchen and out into the Solent proper, filled with wonder at the solitude and private spectacle that unfolded before our eyes, and anticipation for the day to come.
Save the line of freighters, tugs, and red funnel ferries, we were alone on the water so we swallowed our shame at motoring and ploughed on towards the Island. There was not a breath of wind, but it was still a wonderful journey, as the fog came in, or receded it revealed or hid those long familiar landmarks of our home waters, and the spectral looming of the reds and greens was more of a game than usual, playing the game to remember the names.
To avoid red funnel traffic we motored on to Hillhead, then struck due South bound for Osborne Bay.
We haunted the coast for an hour or two, Cowes, Wooten Creek to Ryde, then made for Stokes bay. The tell tale tickle of the hairs on the back of the neck gave us hope, so we hoisted sails, and made our way north, creeping through the clearing mist under power of the wind at last.
During a tack we managed to tear the jib leech on the exposed threads of the spinnaker pole mount on the mast(I had taken the end cap off and not replaced it properly, my mistake) so I hastily furled it to avoid further damage. Of course that was when it also rolled up the unused spinnaker sheet I had tied to the pulpit. About a nonosecond later the wind state went from the last sigh of an spent bagpipe after congress with a much younger and more energetic haggis, to an angry banshee bent on throwing this unaware clown off the boat. Funny how nature manages to time those surprises for the most untowards of times. The sea state changed instantly also from a picture friendly, shall we have a gin now, to a rolling breaking unhappy get off my back vengeful boiling mass of pure spite. The stuck "reef" of the jib cracked, slapped, and threatened to go home and tell mum, But the main was holding strong... Until a batten car, one I thought was a bit worn as it has before now come adrift when dropping the sail, decided to reprise its trick again. Karen retreated below, as much to avoid my foul tirades as the spray, so mainsail also down we experienced crashing through whitecaps, peaks and troughs in a yacht. It was not heavy weather, but we had not expected it in the forecast we read. We have done this in a dinghy, scary, but a smooth rollercoaster demanding every ounce of concentration not to broach, but in a bigger boat it seems so much more impactful but with very much less fear of a proper broach. It was fun, despite the hassles, and at times I fancied myself on the bridge of one of our mighty old battleships, carving the bows through mountainous seas in pursuit of the Bismark, while Karen toiled down below handling the sweaty seamen at my command...
The weather calmed enough by the time we reached Calshot that Karen as confident to take the helm, and I could go forward to sort the jib. Assessing the tear after untangling and relocating the sheet we decided to have a sail as the tear was isolated. Jib only was still fun if not fast, and we got back safe, well, and all the more wise to never neglecting those little jobs that need doing.
For they will all go wrong at once, and at the worst possible time
Another lesson learned the hard way.
I imagine that after several re-tellings, and the eventual grandchildren we are still anticipating, it will become a tale of epic proportions worthy of Odysseus himself, but for today, it was merely another clowning educational experience.
All you experts out there, we salute you. (And we will catch you up, in our minds at least)
Last edited:
