Nautical Miles Logged - 50 (plus a bit from Portchester to Cowes and return)
Current Position of the Catweasel - Portchester (Wicor Marine)
Total Crew Count to date (inc. myself) - 4
Be warned - this is a long one, put the kettle on.
It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been remiss in keeping this blog so, here I am, on the train to Portsmouth Harbour, writing.
I need to wind the clock back about eight days (to the 24th June) to a sunny morning in Basingstoke.
The plan
Meet at the railway station at 09:00, purchase provisions in Sainsbury’s, catch the 10:00 to Portchester, spend an hour getting ready and then sail to Cowes. Stewart and I would spend the day providing some basic training to Carlos and Neil as well as playing with the spinnaker. We’d moor up by 16:00 ish and then head into town for a few beers. The next day, so said the plan, we’d race the RTI, each one taking a 2 hour watch at the helm, in the crew position, at the navigation table and finally a off watch. It was a solid plan. We’d complete the race, triumphant, and celebrate in style in Cowes. Along the way we’d been cheered on by friends (some of whom had flown in from Vienna) and parents (who’d flown down from Scotland).
The reality....
Ahh, of mice and men. We got on the train at Basingstoke and everything went well until someone said “What’s the worst that could happen?“. The train stopped. There was a trackside fire and we couldn’t proceed. An hour we sat there. Arriving at the marina an hour behind schedule (but not really bothered as I’d built in some contingency), I went off to meet the sail maker who was putting race numbers on the spare sail whilst the other three loaded the Catweasel. For reasons best blamed on myself the sail wasn’t ready but not to worry, they said, - it’d be done by about 16:00. So we set off a tad later than hoped for and had lost the training time but no worries - we arrived in Cowes, at our swinging mooring, at roughly 18:00. The Catweasel was ready.
Race day - the 25th June 2011 . With the previous nights beers and kebabs sloshing around in our stomachs we headed off to Eegons for a pre race fry-up. In hindsight, this may have been a mistake. Anyway - back on board we waited on our swinging mooring for our starting gun having decided that being a wuss was better part of sailing (plus we didn’t want to sink anyone or be sunk). With the main pack off we loosed our warp and off we went, some fifteen minutes or so behind the main pack (our start time was 07:40). There were several boats near us so a careful watch was required but we’d made the right move I reckon. Avoiding the main pack reduced our newbie stress levels and we could focus on the sailing. Our only hails were of the jolly type rather than the screams of “starboard!!!”’ which could be heard drifting across the water.
The passage to the Needles was pretty rough and it “did for” Carlos who discovered a whole new way of feeling ill. After he’d fed the fish he went down below for a kip and the Catweasel was, for the moment, one crew man down. As we neared the Needles we noticed more and more boats heading back to Cowes but ignorance is bliss so on we went. If memory serves me correctly we arrived at the big pointy rocks of doom at about 12:30 and went around the point with ease (I’m redefining “ease” to mean “try to tack around the Needles several times but fail, having to bear away before trying, and succeeding, one more time, all the while watching the cliffs of crushiness getting very, very, very, close”).
From the Needles we ran before the wind in a very gentle ten to fifteen foot swell which., along with swallowing whole yachts, looked pretty impressive as they rolled up behind the Catweasel. It was rather peculiar to look up at waves. Sadly the swell took its toll and Neil was struck down by Mal de Fry-up. I popped my head down below every now and then and I was impressed by how quickly nausea set in and how long it took to recover. I’d estimate a five to one ratio - that’s five minutes below decks took me an hour above decks to recover.
At this point I need to point out that our VHF had been hearing mayday after mayday, the Solant coastguard & RNLI did an amazing job that day and if you know anyone that was on, or will be on a boat, then spare a thought for them and doff cap in a fashion of your choosing.
Anyway - we’d not seen any other yachts for literally hours but the Catweasel ploughed on, our half a reef (don’t ask) performing admirably. The weather, heavily overcast since the get go, was threatening to lighten up and the sky was now (this was about 15:00) a light grey instead of a dark grey. The seas were getting calmer now, the wind was dying down and the two guys below decks were starting to perk up so things were looking up. I’d had a change of clothes so was dry for the first time in hours and cups of tea and coffee were passed around. The exciting stage was over and all the remained was a gentle sail to the finish line.
The sun was shining, the clouds had cleared and a few other racing yachts were in sight and we were closing on the line. Another yacht hailed us and I hailed…OK OK, another yacht shouted at us and I shouted back - we’d missed a race maker and would be protested. A quick check in our hitherto ignored race folder infirmed us that we had to declare protests so a swift call was made and we were told a 2% time penalty would be applied so we relaxed a tad as we were here to complete not to compete.
On we sailed, and finally we had a chance to swap the helm around. Spirits were high all around now as I took the Catweasel across the finish line (in probably one of the worst finishes this year) and we grabbed our swinging mooring and cracked open a beer. We’d completed the RTI. - ahh, of mice and men.
The final number of boats to cross the finish line in Cowes was 1,302 and there were 438 retirements and 16 DSQ (disqualified) and/or OCS (on course side).”
Sure we were disqualified but for all of us on board just taking part was what mattered. I want to say thanks to my brother, to Carlos and to Neil for taking part, thanks to the Island Sailing Club for running the race and thanks to all the other competitors. It was only fifty miles and I’m aiming to do something in excess of thirty thousand over the next year and a bit but I reckon it’s going to remain one of the most memorable fifty.
Sunday 3 July 2011
Bluetooth and the blue boat
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| Slipway bound. |
June 30th was liftout day for Catweasel and saw her collected and taken to the slipway. This was an unusual thing to behold as it saw Tim and I being overtaken by the unoccupied yacht whilst in the dinghy. I think it's safe to say this won't be happening often. It was the first time she'd been photographed moving on the water and perhaps a little more dignity for the poor girl would have been nice. On the plus side all went according to schedule. The lift out process at Wicor seems to have been built on many years of experiencing owners saying "Yeah, she'll be ready on the day!" and I suspect they got bored of finding this wasn't the case. This meant we had to strip sails and anchor and blank the log impeller. No idea how that one's meant to work as the only thing I know about log impellers is that they are bellow the waterline. Anyway, only once all this prep is done will they take liftout requests seriously so there was some potential for Tim's schedule to slip but thankfully that didn't happen.
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| Stick that on your ear and talk into it! |
Barely was she at rest then Ian, the local shipwright, was aboard and making busy with the installation of the cockpit drain. Tim and I then set about upsetting the superstitious by taking her old name off and prepping the hull to receive her beautiful "Catweasel" stickers to bows and the left side of her transom and an "of Muasdale" for the right side. Actually there is no "of" part as Tim elected to go for the brand new concept of implicit stickering, which is to say he forgot to order it.
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