Date: April 14 - 17 2006 Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32Trip:Portsmouth; Lymington; Weymouth; Yarmouth; Portsmouth
Days: 4
Skipper: Gerry Raby
Crew: Sean Raby
Blue Scherzo closes on Lady J for a quick chatBank holiday Friday turned up with traditionally British bank holiday weather, damp, overcast and chilly as we departed Portsmouth and set sails for Lymington. It was apparent from the weather forecast that this was shaping up for a downwind weekend, the wind pushing us down from Lymington to Weymouth then on que turning around to push us back again. Certainly this was a change to bashing through against the wind with the spray in your face. Unfortunately however it seems that every silver lining must have a cloud, this one in the form of a steady rolling swell on the sea that when combined with the motion of the boat made for the most unpleasant conditions for anyone susceptible to the hideous malaise of sea sickness. On my first trip with Ashdown I had been Captain Chunder with a capital ‘C’ but oddly have never really suffered since despite seeing worse conditions on a number of occasions. There were times on this weekend however when the motion did start to take its toll on me. Although I am pleased to say that it never progressed past the initial discomfort stage. Some however were not so lucky and I have to admire the fortitude of those who suffer and yet continue to sail.
There were only three of us on BS for this weekend rather than the usual 4 so it would be interesting to see if I could cope with some things I normally don’t need to worry about. The first day suggested I still have a long way to go. At this time sailing upwind we needed to tack, Sean was resting below and I was on the helm. Now these days I don’t have the boat dancing round in circles every five minutes like I used to but I still need to concentrate quite hard and think about what I am doing which is not normally a problem – until you tack with two. It never occurred to me before to think about such a situation, suddenly I was confronted with having to ‘multi task’, helm, and tail the winch while Gerry hauled and winched. The big issue is not what to do but how to do it. I took the sheet with my left hand and the helm with my right, keeping the tension on the sheet as Gerry wound it in, my left arm steadily moving back while keeping the helm steady with my right. Fine, but that damn sheet just kept on coming and my left arm kept going back, until the cuff of my jacket tangled with the guard rail, dohh! I attempt to free my arm and distracted I start to wander off the wind so my attention returns to the helm, in the confusion of a couple of seconds the inevitable happens and I drop the sheet as I try to jerk my arm free. Gerry emits an amusing quote as the sail whips the sheet away and he has to haul it all in again. Well I figure the exercise did him good and no harm was done but on a serious note this is the sort of silly incident that can get someone hurt. Of course after the event I could think of several better ways to have done it, but it’s often not until you are actually doing something that it occurs to you that you don’t know how to do it!
We made Lymington without further incident and settled in for the night.
The following day we made off for Weymouth with a light following wind. Gerry decided to put the spinnaker up and we set a brisk pace racing off towards the Needles with the red and black sail looking splendid in the weak early sunshine. I don’t have much experience of sailing with a spinnaker so it would prove to be another day requiring some quick learning. I think the main thing I learnt on this weekend was that while it’s tricky to put a spinnaker up and helming takes a lot of concentration all this pales into insignificance compared to trying to get the damn thing down in a strong wind. Basically the light wind outside Lymington got us going nicely, but as time went on the wind kept creeping imperceptibly higher, 5 knots, 6, 7, 8, 10 and gusting significantly higher. On the helm it started to feel more like trying to control a raging bull than guide a benign pony. We are down to two crew as the motion has taken its toll on one. It’s grey and overcast. Half an hour later and the wind is higher still now often gusting between 15 and 20 knots. The boat was cracking along at top speed and Gerry could handle it quite nicely but I have to say when I was on the helm I was finding it quite scary how hard and viciously the boat would want to round up. As the boat pulls harder the novice starts to overcompensate and I have her cork screwing along. I am barely in control and there is a problem – one of the sheets keeps snagging on the rail and Gerry is trying to adjust it when quite suddenly the inevitable happens, I have overcompensated and have the rudder hard over but she is not turning back, I don’t know what to do!, I can feel the power of the wind dragging us along before the boat suddenly digs in and swings round. In the blink of an eye I am on my knees in the cockpit as we broach to a shuddering halt in a shower of water. I am glad we were both wearing lifejackets as either of us may have needed one. We both decide its better for Gerry to helm until the wind drops which it duly does half an hour or so later.
That evening in Weymouth as I return to the sink to contemplate the washing up I notice a gentle rippling of the water and a slight vibration. A few seconds later I hear the tinkling of glasses in the locker followed by a rattling as a glass begins to walk slowly across the saloon table, the vibration increasing steadily. Slightly alarmed I try to peer out from the cabin window just as a dark shadow looms over BS, plunging the saloon into semi darkness. My first thought was that perhaps the aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan was attempting to dock in Weymouth, surely not! Quickly I scramble up the companionway onto deck expecting a wall of grey steel, but nay, nay and thrice nay it is not the famed nuclear leviathan but a huge yacht. As I watch I can just make out the skipper, flanked by a brace of maidens either side of the helm and astonishingly what appears to be two crewmen stripped to the waist waving palm fronds to cool them like a decadent scene from Hollywood’s ancient Egypt. Ashdown boats bob and skip like little dolphins on the big yacht’s bow wave. As the great beast turns majestically I half expect to hear the whoops and blasts of ships horns in joyous salute and eagerly I grab two spoons and a washboard in order to play God Save the Queen as my own special contribution. But just a moment I think I recognise that floppy haired Egyptian slave, no, surely that’s David Groves! It’s Eliona, goodness either Graham must have been feeding her steroids over the winter or I had too much wine. I suspect the latter.
It’s my first visit to Weymouth and I rather like it. Just a shame that the distance and circumstances mean we get in late and leave early so don’t get much chance to explore.
The trip back is another spinnaker day but with much lighter winds and we make good time. Everything goes just fine until we move to take the inshore route into Portsmouth. Out in the Solent the wind was a consistent 5 knots but as we move closer to land the wind rises quickly and significantly to the point where even with Gerry on the Helm things are getting lively. I have the sheet in hand but around the winch and with ever increasing traffic around us Gerry tells me to let it flap. We start to take it down but unfortunately the snuffer comes apart and we end up in a bit of a mess of lines with the sail flapping wildly in the strong breeze. Once again I realize that I have no idea how deal with this situation. Fortunately Gerry does and after 20 minutes or so of hard effort we manage to recover everything intact and motor into Portsmouth. This situation shows how you not only need to think and know about how to do the obvious things but also need to have some idea of what to do when the unexpected happens.
All in all a most enjoyable weekend, I learned a great deal about how many things there are that I know nothing about. As always Gerry, Sean & BS were great hosts and Ashdown organised a most enjoyable weekend. (Apologies to Sean if I have used the wrong spelling)
Date: February 11 - 12 2006 Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32Trip:Portsmouth; Swanwick; PortsmouthDays: 2
Skipper: Gerry Raby
Crew: Betty, Roger
I forgot to take my camera for this trip so here is a random photo from the Goodwood festival of speed to break up the textI have to admit to being a bit of a fair weather sailor. Sitting in the cockpit in warm sunshine with drink and paper is always appealing and I have always hated being cold. However I have on a couple of occasions ventured out at the sharper end of the year and figure I must be becoming some kind of masochist (like the rest of those out presumably) as I do perversely seem to enjoy it despite the cold and the rain. Anyway my former work colleagues had brought me some boots a harness and a few bits and pieces as a leaving present so I figured I should at least try out the boots, although I would be happy not to have to try the harness! The weather turned out to be not really so bad and even a few glimpses of sunshine were seen in spite of the morning ice on the pontoons. Initially however it seemed that we may not even leave the salubrious surroundings of Port Solent as Roger, Betty and myself gathered round for Gerry's safety and orientation briefing. Halfway through Gerry made the classic error of praising the total reliability of Blue Scherzo's engine. Of course the subsequent engine start demonstration resulted in five minutes of repeated "chug chug chug wheeze bang stop" and a subsequent period of group anxiety as half the saloon was dismantled, a filter eventually unblocked and reliability restored. We motored out into a virtually windless and dead flat calm Solent where a man overboard practise resulted in scenes of confusion rarely seen outside of Warmington-on-Sea. Subsequently some radio practise was organised for Betty who's course was the following weekend. A curious thought springs to mind - if you are reporting a man overboard how many persons are on board - 4, dohh!, 3? Lunch was taken at anchor on the eerily calm and silent sea,the light opaque with just the barest hint of colour in the sky, winter sun breaking through light cloud. Only the absence of an ethereal fog prevented potential assault by skeletal pirates brandishing cutlass and hook. Ahrrrr, one wonders what sort of Mayday that would prompt?
Following lunch some wind appeared so rather than proceeding down the Hamble to do some boat handling as earlier planned we set off toward Southampton to do some delightful sailing. We had virtually the whole area to ourselves giving unbroken views of the fuel terminals, a sight surpassed only by the aroma. With Roger navigating using his very nice hand held GPS/plotter we avoided the temptation to cut the corner at the entrance to the Hamble and proceeded incident free to Swanwick where the crews of Fizzgig, Summer Song and Lucreece were already knocking back the post sail lubrication. A short cabaret was provided by yours truly in the form of deck swabbing much to the amusement of Fizzgig's crew, John resplendent in his duck shooting hat. Most pleasant pre dinner drinks were hosted by Summer Song as we all crowded below to get out of the cold. After dinner the crew of Blue Scherzo set off up hill and down dale to a quaint local hostelry a scant 20 minute walk away expecting to see most of the other crews, but alas no one else had dragged themselves out of their warm cocoons. The excursion was however a welcome opportunity to walk off the excesses of Gerry's large and delicious curry with all the trimmings.
Sunday dawned an even grey with steady rain and a stronger wind. We had the luxury of a late start as Gerry wanted to visit the chandler to look for replacement nuts to fit his problem sea cock (titter ye not misses). We had a good and lively sail with a brisk cold wind back to Portsmouth where we had a grandstand view of three tugs picking up and manoeuvring a large container ship. All in all a most pleasant weekend spent in delightful company.
Date: August BBQ 2005 Boat: Taransay Moor, WesterlyTrip:Portsmouth; Cowes; Folley; PortsmouthDays: 3
Skipper: Colin Shiret
Crew: Sandi Sherit; Nigel & Sandra
Colin and Nigel bask in the Bank Holiday sunshine
The BBQ weekend had perfect weather for the annual trip to the Island. This is my first trip on Taransay Moor and Colin, Sandi and their friends make me welcome. Taransay is an unusual configuration (to me at least) having a very deep main cabin and a Mizzen mast. As we approach the Folly a number of Ashdown boats are already tied up when Colin suggests I may like to helm for the arrival. I reluctantly agree, I would like the chance to try but at the same time the thought of the possibility of crashing Taransay, not just against a pontoon (bad enough) but against two other Ashdown boats with half the club watching is a little intimidating. However with Colin's guidance I manage to maneuver into the L shaped raft without incident, although Gerry next in line may have been worried about running out of fuel as I took my time about it.
The BBQ is held in the wood behind the Folly Inn where the kids have trouble getting the 'adults' off the rope swing that John has rigged.
A Thames Barge enjoys the Solent during the BBQ weekend 2005
Date: June 12 - 20 2004 Boat: Summer SongTrip:Chichester; Cherbourg; St Vaast; Deauville Le Harve; Brighton; ChichesterDays: 9
Skipper: Pam Wyatt
Crew: Linda Hadcocks, Roy Burden
An unusual start to this cruise in that due to circumstances that I can't quite recall Summer Song had to leave Chichester on the evening tide while the rest of the boats had left on the early. This created three new experiences for me. It was to be my first channel crossing, first night sail and first time on a watch system. However I felt totally confident as I had sailed with Pam and Linda before and knew that things would be organised and calm and I would be told what I needed to do. I hadn't met Roy before but it appeared that he was also quite experienced.
The night was cloudless and the channel was as flat and calm as a Mill pond. Away from the artificial lights of land the dark night closes in and for the first time I get to see the night sky in full glory - an unbelievable myriad of endless stars. I think the trip could already be considered a success for this rare sight alone. We slip along on the engine as there is barely a breath of wind and soon the shipping lanes appear and I get a chance to put those classroom ships light diagrams into active service. Almost immediately some lights appear to make no sense - unfortunately it appears that ships move - they pass each other and overlap, resulting in some apparently strange configurations that can easily be misinterpreted. However with perfect visibility and a flat calm there is plenty of time in which to make any decisions. This was to be a complete contrast to the return crossing.
Right: Roy arrives in Cherbourg in the morning sunshine
The plan is to cross the Bay de Seine stopping in various places en route. The route would take us past the invasion beaches in light winds and hot sunshine, so my traditional bright red "sailing face" would soon be in evidence. The first day was to rest after the crossing but it wasn't long before the sunshine lured us out and Linda, myself and Roy trotted off to the excellent Maritime Museum. Next stop was St Vaast a short hop from Cherbourg, a small fishing village and while there isn't much going on there for some reason I really love this place.
Left: John resurrects a sail from his archives. Not as colourful as Summer Song's chute but quite effective as he pulls alongside for a photo. (Of course we slowed down to allow the opportunity)
From St Vaast due to the tides we have a very long day sail across to Deauville passing the Invasion Beaches and various obstructions. The Deauville Marina is slightly bizarre as it has all new pontoons and purpose built apartments and shops, yet we can't find the showers. After much hunting and eventually asking a security guard we find them hidden below the quayside in something akin to a wartime bunker. In complete contrast to the rest of the place the showers are small and look like they haven't been renovated for at least 15 years. We take a rest day exploring Deauville and Trouville which are very picturesque and famous for Monet's paintings of the vast beach umbrellas. Alas when I went to take the cliche photo they were all tied up!
The plan was to move on to Honfleur but unfortunately the weather is on the turn and the forecast is for strong westerlies (if I remember correctly)building from the following lunchtime. There is a grand debate among the skippers as everyone would like to go to Honfleur but the approaching weather could make it difficult, even impossible to get back up the river and most of the crews can't afford to get stuck in France. Eventually it's decided to go instead to Le Harve as it can be left at any state of the tide and gives us the option of Brighton if we can't head up enough for Chichester.
Our day exploring the unattractive concrete jungle that is Le Harve suggested we had made a mistake as the weather remained fine. On return to the Marina in the early evening there were Police everywhere, something was clearly up, the police let us through their check point after a brief questioning and we discovered that the French flagship the aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle was to leave that evening from the military dockyard. Come darkness the quayside was full of people as the giant ship left to a fabulous firework display over the Marina and the ships band playing the obligatory anthem. Later we were treated to another display as the promised weather finally arrived in the form of a thunder storm and the eerie howl of the wind through the masts of the marina's flotilla. For a while it seemed that we may be unable to return to England as planned.
By the time we were ready to leave the wind had abated slightly but conditions were still quite lively. The sea had built to a big steady swell and the wind was still significant. The return was to be a long tiring endurance test and the decision was made to make for Brighton rather than have to bash into the wind all the way to Chichester. (Apart from Gerry in Blue Scherzo) This crossing turned into one of those journeys that at the time you wish you hadn't started, but at the end you are pleased to have completed. The final approach into Brighton seemed to take forever but eventually we made it in, tied up and immediately hit the sack as we had spent the entire time on deck taking it in turns to doze while wedged into some nook or hang onto the helm.
Below: Lucrece rides the swell outside Le Harve
Sunday dawned with light winds and warm sunshine for what we expected to be a nice easy trip back to Chichester. However it appears you never can tell with sailing. First an hour or so out and the glorious sunshine dwindled until we were back once again in wet weather gear being thrown around. On the bright side we made great time, fairly cracking along. On turning round Selesy Bill the wind was right on the nose and as we were all rather tired decided to drop the sails and motor into Chichester. Unfortunately Fizzgig was not to be so lucky. As John started his engine the fan belt broke and he stopped to try and effect repair. We went on not realising there was a problem until John called on the radio to tell us of the problem and that he couldn't fix it with the boat bucking around. This meant John had to take long fast tacks while we stooged around outside Chichester in case he needed any help nervously eyeing the depth dwindling as the tide retreated. Eventually John made a spectacular appearance Fizzgig fairly racing along. Over the radio it was decided we would tow Fizzgig in as the strong wind and rolling sea made an approach under sail foolhardy. We passed them a line and took up the tow, making a slow trek up to the Marina at sunset (See below)
The final act was to lash the two boats together side by side so that Summer Song could use her engine to nose both boats into the lock. This Pam achieved quite magnificently with just inches to spare, in the dark with visibility reduced by Fizgig's rig and after two exhausting days sailing.
Date: March 2004 Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32Trip:Portsmouth; Lymington; PortsmouthDays: 2
Skipper: Gerry Raby
Crew: Mark Hitchin,
Andrew Kazimirski,
Janine MitchellThe thing with sailing with a small club is that you are thrown together with up to four other people who may be complete strangers for a number of days living in a confined space. It could be a recipe for disaster and I am far from being an outgoing socialite. Sometimes the thought of having to mix easily for two or more days is quite intimidating. Following my previous trip where I was spectacularly sea sick I was more apprehensive than ever. I have to say 5 on board Blue Scherzo is a bit of a squeeze, particularly when Mark turns out to be a six foot rugby player .
We set out from Portsmouth for Lymington in bright spring sunshine, although it is quite crisp with a brisk breeze filling the sails. The boat is heeled over as we speed along and we are regularly treated to a spray of cold water. I feel fine and for the first time start to notice a few things, like the way Blue Scherzo's fittings start to "sing" when you get the wind at just the right angle. I am surprised at how responsive the boat is to small movements of the tiller and unfortunately how easy it is to lose the wind from the sails - and how damn hard it is to find it again. Never mind, everyone is getting along just fine and apart from the sailing I begin to notice that the others are quite an interesting bunch. Andrew (left) is of Polish decent, he told a most interesting tale of how his father fled Poland at the outbreak of the last war to escape to England and serve with the free Polish forces. Janine is very well traveled having visited many interesting places, Mark, his booming voice unmistakable regales us with amusing stories of his sailing adventures and Gerry the skipper talks of the various trials and tribulations of owning a boat. Blue Scherzo is his first and he has only had her a fairly short time, but he is clearly well pleased with his "money pit". Gerry likes to get his crew involved and makes me do the pilotage into Lymington as practice for my navigation "skills". Clearly he knows his way blindfold but insists that I tell him of every mark and change of course, it's a good exercise for me and I quickly start to find out the things I don't understand and new things to watch out for - Like the Isle of Wight ferry that loomed large so suddenly behind us I felt sure it must be some mirage. How could I have not noticed something that big! No matter because Gerry had already taken the necessary action b
ut was wondering how long it would be before I mentioned it. Anyway I was well pleased, mainly because although the conditions were fairly brisk I hadn't had the slightest feeling of sickness. That night we dined on Gerry's Spagbol which turns out to be his specialty for a boat meal. Everyone normally has to make a meal at some time or other on board and due to the cramped conditions and diminutive facilities on most boats everyone normally has a "specialty" that they can make blindfolded while being thrown all over the place if necessary.
The following day was a classic example of the fickle English weather. Most of the day was spent sailing in glorious sunshine, but as we reached the Portsmouth forts (above) it took a decided change for the worse. In the space of an hour or so the clouds closed in and as we made our way into the harbour entrance we were hit by a nasty squall complete with driving rain followed by sleet. The more experienced crew (This being only my second ever trip) sorted out the boat while I looked on from a cosy spot behind the spray hood and took some photos.
Below - Janine rigs mooring lines on the foredeck peppered by sleet.
Date: 07/02/04
Boat: Fizzgig; Westerley 33
Trip: Chichester; Nab Tower; Sparks; Chichester
Days: 2
Skipper: John Alden
Crew: Guy Fowler, Nick
My first proper sailing trip on board Fizzgig a Westerley 33 and the weather was not great. Cold and grey with intermittent rain. I am kitted out in my skiing gear, not exactly sailing attire but it's fine, warm and waterproof-ish. The wind is strong and we headed out to the Nab Tower along with fellow club boat Lucrece (Camper Nicholson 32 see image below). It's rather choppy to say the least but I feel great and it's all new and totally confusing even though I am halfway through the day skipper theory evening class. Everything is different out here, not like the charts and books at all! We have lunch on the go, John rustles up hot pasties and tea and I eat like a ravenous dog despite having done chuff all. The boat is rising up and crashing down over the significant swell but we are all quite jolly and the tower is looming from the grey sky. Jolly that is until we round the Tower and head back towards our overnight destination of Sparks Marina Hayling Island. The wind is now behind us and the boat takes on a whole new and dynamic rolling gait like some drunk on a pinball walk back from the pub. I am not feeling so good, but the others, all old hands at this lark are fine. Suddenly I find I can't function, my stomach churning like a washing machine and I feel so so tired, I want desperately to close my eyes, but every time I do I feel sick. God I feel awful, John regards me with a knowing look, his pipe sprouting from stubbly beard he looks every inch the salty sea dog and I suspect he has noticed I have gone very quiet and probably the colour of my face is not the most flattering of shades. He maneuvers me to a new place in the cockpit and I notice they are all watching, I suspect they are waiting for something, like some spectacular news event or football result- and indeed here it comes, I scramble quickly to edge of the cockpit, the boat is rolling and it's now raining as lunch makes a spectacular reappearance over the side. John has hold of my arm and Nick hovers ready to give assistance while Guy handles the helm. I can hear the wind wailing but nothing else, Lunch sure don't look so good now as I settle back, but if anything I feel worse than ever and am now really cold. How long till we get in?, 3 hours!! you have to be kidding me, I think I want to die, maybe I could slip over the side, but no I barely have the strength to raise my chin from my chest let alone stand up. My head feels crap, dizzy and numb and It's a nightmarish struggle to keep my eyes open, I don't want to be sick again, but I am not going to get the choice and I lean again over the cockpit side. I thought we would never reach Hayling, to me we must surely have rounded Cape Horn or some other such legendary sailing benchmark, but no we barely tinkered into the Solent and back. 
John has taken us back early for my benefit but this means we are at the entrance to Sparks at low tide and we will be very very tight for depth when we negotiate the channel. Really we should wait but John decides to try for my sake. Unfortunately we don't make it and come to a sudden halt as the keel engages the soft muddy bottom. This however is to my fortune as the boat is now quite still and steady and I begin to recover some semblance of a human being. John tries everything to get us off the mud but to no avail, we even inflate the dinghy and take a line to a nearby pontoon and try to winch ourselves off but it's no good and we have to wait out the two hours or so until the rising tide lifts us off and we enter Sparks in the dark and meet up with some other club boats. The other skippers rib John mercilessly over running aground, but I am glad he tried.The following day we take an easy trip back up Ichenoor creek, stopping to practice picking up buoys and coming alongside various pontoons. John gives me a chance maneuver the boat around various moorings and take up to a mooring buoy. Today is much more like it, flat calm, warmer and dry. I start to see some appeal to this sailing lark at last and just maybe it won't be my last trip!
Date: July 15 - 21 2006 
We left the following day to spend a couple of days in Honfleur which is just about as picturesque as it is possible to get. We manage to raft up in the old town basin for the night and then luckily get a space on one of the pontoons the following morning. We have to erect Pam's excellent home made shade over the cockpit as temperatures soar to the 100 mark and the old basin becomes like a cauldron
with its solid stone walls and high town houses reflecting the sun into the boats from every angle.
We leave the heat of Honfleur for Fecamp home of Benedictine liqueur where we look in vain for Monks tirelessly toiling over vast vats of liqueur in the Abby basement. As it turns out there is no Benedictine Abby nor any Monks. It transpires that an enterprising wine merchant called Alexandre Le Grand discovered the recipe lost since the Revolution in an old manuscript. He founded the distillery in Fecamp around 1863 to produce the famous liqueur. Above is his modest house which stands opposite the equally austere distillery......not. Apparently the exact formula is a secret, but before you fret about it copies of the recipe are kept in three far-flung regions of the globe, just in case there is a nuclear holocaust and someone asks, "Where’s the Benedictine recipe?" A visit to the distillery is recommended and there are lots of non drink related exhibits as Alex it would appear had more than a little cash to spare on a trinket or two - particularly locks and keys for some reason.
On the unfortunate side it turned out to be the place where Richard had his wallet stolen. He was in the showers which are entry controlled by keypad. However some local thief tailgated their way in and had the audacity to reach over the top of Richard's cubicle while he was under the shower and take his bag. Running out while pulling stuff out of the bag the thief got Richard's wallet. Fortunately for Richard the trail of discarded items included his shorts so the frustration of being robbed was not compounded by having to parade Naked all the way round the crowded quayside to Eliona. So the lesson is to try and ensure your gear cannot be grabbed even in apparently secure places.
