Littlehampton 2007

Date: ??
Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32

Trip: Portsmouth; Littlehampton;

Days: 2
Skipper: Gerry Raby
Crew: Jennifer, Doug,Val Dibble

Right: Val hands Gerry the provisions:






A weekend trip from Portsmouth to Littlehampton and back turns into a one way trip to littlehampton and a train back as the weather intervenes.

An eventful trip started with a fine spring evening down at Hardway making Blue Scherzo ready as we waited for sufficient tide to get away from the pontoon. Gerry called a crew meeting following the usual safety brief and suggested we could set out tonight if we wished on a night sail to Chichester and anchor in Bracklesham Bay or pick up a sheltered buoy in Ichenor depending on the weather and sea state. This option would not only give us some more night hours and experience but also allow us to meet the Chichester club boats for the sail up to Littlehampton the following morning. We decide after much discussion to go and we exit the main entrance to Portsmouth Harbour at dusk and head up through the submarine gap towards Chichester for a brisk dash up the coast. I decide to spend most time below to brush up on my Navigation which of course is much more important when the familiar visual views of the coastline are denied by the darkness.

When we arrive at Bracklesham Bay conditions appear ideal for a night at anchor, flat sea, light offshore breeze and consulting the chart we find a good spot with plenty of sea room but well out of the main channel. My only concern is that the chart does not show any anchorage points in the bay. It's pretty obvious why - rapidly shallowing waters that dry in places and several old wrecks marked, clearly not a place to be when there are onshore winds blowing. However the wind is light and offshore, the sea is flat and the weather forecast shows nothing to worry about. We find our spot with the GPS, check against the bearings of the navigation lights for the entrance to Chichester, test that the anchor appears to be set ok and settle down for the night. A few hours later we find another reason for there being no Anchor areas marked as a steady light swell has the boat rocking uncomfortably from side to side all night long. I didn't get much sleep rolling about in my bunk. Dawn was a welcome sight and I went on deck to observe the exposed wreck of a part of the D-Day Mulberry harbour complex as it was just past low water, happily it was exactly where it was expected to be and a quick check of the GPS and chart showed that we had not moved. It was a good exercise in both navigation and anchoring, but if the motion is that pronounced in such benign conditions I wouldn't recommend anchoring here even in excellent conditions unless you can sleep in a washing machine.

Saturday morning we set off for Littlehampton via Selsey Bill and the Looe channel.
The weather has deteriorated slightly and we sail in sun, rain, gloom but fairly steady winds. On checking the Almanac for the harbour I find a warning of strong tidal flow across the entrance at our approximate arrival time. When we reach a couple of miles outside Gerry decides that since I have checked up on the Pilotage I should take the boat in. I check the Almanac again and take a deep breath as I have little experience of helming a boat into a busy harbour and this one is quite narrow with a strong tide across the entrance. I am nervous inside. I get out of the way of an incoming fishing boat and take up position to account for the tidal flow and turn up towards the entrance. All is going well and as the end of the longer harbour wall to port slips by I begin to wonder what all the fuss in the Almanac is about as I haven't had to correct and we are not being pushed across the entrance in any significant manner, easy!. The next thing mentioned is a sandbank that piles up against the port side wall just about opposite the end of the much shorter starboard hand wall. Now perhaps to a more experienced sailor this would have been a clue, but not to me. A boat is coming out and moving over towards me to avoid the sandbank. The channel is now getting quite narrow for two boats to pass, but I can't do anything now other than keep well to starboard but we should clear him quite comfortably. It's at this point we see what almost appears to be a veritable whirlpool dead ahead, the vicious cross tide has appeared! and it is also obviously responsible for the sandbank. - As they used to say in Cathphrase (should I admit to knowing this) "The clues are there". The water is suddenly very choppy and the boat is pushed sideways towards the path of the oncoming boat. I pull the tiller over but we are still moving towards the middle of the channel. I pull the tiller hard over and the boat is now heading directly at the starboard harbour wall but still slipping sideways. Gerry, the skipper is on the foredeck and pointing frantically to starboard with that "oh shit" sort of look on his face but I don't have either the time or the inclination to tell him that the tiller is already hard over. I reach down and apply a few more revs and finally she comes over and the outgoing boat passes with plenty of clearance. Fortunately I remember to straighten her up again quickly before we go on to ram the harbour wall. Once inside the protection of the Starboard wall it all calms down. A bit hairy for a while but all is fine and I take the boat up to the new town pontoons and raft alongside Taransay Moor. I am glad to kill the engine. Later I am glad to hear all the other crews remarking on the difficult entrance.

Gery takes advantage of the sunny afternoon to fix his wind instruments and we winch him up the mast so that he can change the windex. A small crowd gather to watch him dangle precariously form the masthead, but all work is completed without bloodshed and we all enjoy a warm sunny evening.

On Sunday the crews of Blue Scherzo, Taransay Moor, Summer Song and Lady J take a local river boat up the river Arun to Arundel where we spend the day sightseeing, or in the case of myself, Betty, Colin and Sandi, at he pub. We take a walk up to the Black Rabbit for some lunch.

The plan is to leave on the early tide at around 3am Monday morning to return to Portsmouth but unfortunately the weather forecast is not good, Force 6 to 7 possibly gale force 8 imminent is the evening report and sure enough a walk to the end of the harbour wall shows that the wind is already building significantly. We have a conference and decide to defer the decision and see if it has blown through. We get up at 3am and the wind is howling in the rigging. A call to the local coastguard reveals that the sea state is rough to very rough, a gale force 8 warning is about to be issued and that the entrance to the harbour is considered dangerous in such conditions. We inform them that we will be staying put and return to bed.

We now have another decision to make - virtually everyone has to return to work tomorrow so we must sail on the next tide to get back in time. We wait to see if conditions abate but by noon its obvious that we must bite the bullet and return to Portsmouth by train and attempt to recover the boats the following weekend.
Thus a motley bunch of grubby yobs appear at the local railway station toting bags and as much other kit as they can carry for the ignominious trip back, cursing the unpredictable English weather.

Below: A delightful sunset gives no indication of the weather to come:

Easter 2006

Date: April 14 - 17 2006
Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32

Trip:
Portsmouth; Lymington; Weymouth; Yarmouth; Portsmouth

Days: 4
Skipper: Gerry Raby
Crew: Sean Raby


Blue Scherzo closes on Lady J for a quick chat


Bank 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)

Swanwick February 2006

Date: February 11 - 12 2006
Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32

Trip:
Portsmouth; Swanwick; Portsmouth

Days: 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 text

I 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.

Maintenance April 2004

Date: April 2004
Boat: Fizzgig
Trip:
Maintenance Weekend

Days: 2
Skipper: John Alden
Crew: Guy Fowler


A weekend spent scrubbing and painting the hulls of various club boats on a cold and damp April doesn't immediately hit that "wow count me in" spot. However it is a chance for the crews to "give back" (as my former employers IBM would say in that trendy new management speak). In actual fact its an enjoyable weekend assuming you don't mind getting covered first in mud and then by your own coat of anti-foul paint. (Not a single barnacle has attached itself to my warm sailing hat since) From a sailing point of view mooring between piles is not something we do very often along the South Coast so there is also a learning or practice opportunity for both skippers and crew.

Everyone chipped in eagerly as we needed to scrub 4 hulls and apply the paint with sufficient drying time before the returning tide threatened to wash away our efforts. Of course it turned out that John didn't have as much paint as he thought he had so Fizzgig was left with an interesting below waterline colour scheme.

Left: John and Guy contemplate how to remove one of those deck fittings that just won't come off.

In the evening we took the dinghies ashore for a meal at the local pub. By the time we emerged it was pitch dark and very cold as we all huddled on the pontoon awaiting our turn in the inflatable taxi back to our respective boats.

Due to the tides this weekend it was decided to head back to the marina immediately. Fizzgig was to lead the way in the dark through the often confusing maze of boats moored in the river channel with Summer Song and Lucrece following. The only slight flaw in this plan occurred when Fizzgig's stern light promptly failed just as we pulled away. It fell to yours truly to stand on the stern in the freezing wind holding a torch for Summer Song to follow.

Below Left: Summer Song, Below Right: Lucrece & Fizzgig prepare for painting






















Below: Pam supervises work as Linda contemplates life in a sailing club.

March in the Solent 2004

Date: March 2004
Boat: Blue Scherzo, Sadler 32

Trip:
Portsmouth; Lymington; Portsmouth

Days: 2
Skipper: Gerry Raby
Crew: Mark Hitchin,
Andrew Kazimirski,
Janine Mitchell

The 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 but 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.