A Better Look

Apologies for another picture of me, but I just like it. A lovely composition by Lorraine Grant of Solent galley Bembridge heading back down the Hamble in the rain last Saturday. Note perfect timing.

Apologies also for the late publication of the previous post - I really must return to blogging on my proper PC in my garden office instead of my iPad on my living room sofa, comfy though that might be. The Blogger app is crap, and it often says it has published a post when it secretly hasn't. 

Racing - Not a Good Look

To the Hamble on Saturday to race in the Hamble River Raid, one of my favouritest events. 

The top end of the course is a hairpin bend round a big red marker post, where stroke side holds water and bow side rows like hell. 

Lorraine Grant caught the moment Bembridge made the turn from the luxury pontoon of the Jolly Sailor.

But it was worth it - we held on to the trophy for fastest Solent galley.

And our juniors did amazingly well again - Claudia and Annika retained Bernie's Bollard for the fastest boat in the 'Classics and Spirit of Tradition' class (formerly known as Odds'n'Sods. It was particularly encouraging that we had another junior crew racing this year, Molly and Ayesha, who put in a great performance. 

To the bottom left of the picture is Cordelia, rowed by Mr and Mrs Hand. They had been evicted from Mistress, their Bursledon Gig, by their children who won a pot in it, the ingrates.

Despite the rain, enormous fun.

An Even Blusterier Day

If that's a word.

Anyhoo, Saturday was a sailing day that turned into a fairly brutal row.

Not wishing to turn this blog into a 'why can't the Met Office ever see it coming' rant, but the local hour-by-hour forecast showed the breeze sharpening to F3 gusting F5 in the afternoon, but in the event a squall came in like a train registering 25kn at Cambermet. That's mid F6 and it lasted for over an hour which doesn't count as a gust in my book.

All in all, I learned a lot yesterday.

First lesson was: remember to put on my lifejacket. I launched at 8 o'clock just as the tide was leaving the slipway (because I didn't want to get out of bed any earlier than I had to) and it was half an hour before I realised I wasn't wearing the bloody thing, by which time the slip was inaccessible behind a hundred yards of deep Havant mud, which is not a nice place to lose a boot.

The moment was captured by Andy Cunningham (there to inspect Snarleyow to gain info for his conversion of a similar hull). Note acres of Havant mud in the foreground.

I dropped in on the friendly kiosk at the mouth of Langstone Harbour for coffee and to consider if I was brave enough to go out on the Solent without one, mentioned my predicament to owner John and he very kindly offered to lend me his. Top man! Onwards!

I was, however, still a bit concerned about the wind so I took a reef in. Then, out in the Solent, the wind more or less died so I had to shake it out again. Another bit of useful experience gained.

On returning to the harbour to give John his bouyancy aid back I noticed nasty clouds circling the area, as you can see in the photo. This gave me a nice smug feeling that loads of people were getting rained on but not me. But it was clearly time to head back.

With the wind right on the nose and sharpening, I decided to get a bit of exercise and row, so down came the masts. Just as well, as shortly after the squall came through and it took me for ever to reach the slipway, inch by inch. If I had still had the rig up I would have gone backwards. Lesson: watch the real weather rather that rely on the Met Office.

To cap it all the slipway was infested by jet skis illegally buzzing about damn them to hell, and in the evening a massive filling dropped out into my dry martini.