The Snork Maiden and Me

The Snork Maiden and Me
Port la Foret
Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Well, now we have some sailing to tell you about! The forecast today wasn’t too good, but since the forecast wind hadn’t happened by 0900 this morning, I thought I might give it a go. With one thing and another, it took a while to get the boat ready. I went to buy bread, and on the way back thought I should withdraw some more cash. The machine thought differently. Card disappeared without trace, as if it had never been! The phone number given for complaints didn’t work, so I cut my losses and left it there.

Then back to get the boat ready. Having decided yesterday that I’d leave on Friday, it took me a while to get the inside and outside into sailing mode. I usually look after the inside - including the navigation prep - and Al looks after rigging the sails, readying the mooring lines etc. So on my own it took we twice as long and it was almost noon by the time I was ready to go. (Last minute delay while I decided that thermal long johns were a step too far.)

So we left, with new autopilot rigged, helm-steadying bungees in place (sorry for the technicalities), one reef in the main and the working jib tied to the rail. (We eschew a roller furling genoa, although I do wonder sometimes…).

One out there I motored for an hour or so to get clear of channel, rocks etc. On my own, everything is slower. Hoisting sails always entails turning the bow (front) of the boat directly into the direction of the wind, to take the pressure out of the sail and allow it to be heaved or winched up. Single-handed, it takes a little while - take off the ties, move the lazy jacks out of the way, release the halyard, lock off the topping lift etc etc. So if you’re not careful, you’ve inadvertently sailed into a bunch of rocks. So when we were clear I got the main up, with one reef (reduction) in the sail. I looked behind me and 2 large shapes loomed in the distance - BT and Artemis (Google them!). Artemis is the boat Sam Davies (ex-Vendee) is now skippering. So Snork Maiden felt very proud to be out there with the big girls, but too timid to get her nix in a twist trying to put up the jib (foresail) with these two giants bearing down on her. Anyway - they passed - I have pix, but you’ll have to wait, we got sailing and it was all going rather well until the VHS radio came to life with an ‘Avis de vent frais’ or strong wind warning. Well, Snork Maiden was bound for home before you could say ‘lee ho’ or ‘crumbs’ or ‘bloody hell’ - whatever is your preference.

I txted the shore crew to let him know we were going back - he said ‘keep in touch by txt’. I said ‘I might be busy’. He said ‘You could pre-load one’ - but what would it say ‘HELP?’ I did manage one in between taking down the jib and making a cup of tea.

Back in harbour, the rain had stopped, there was hardly any wind and we slipped gently into a berth on the visitors’ pontoon. Actually, it’s better than the one we left, with the wind on the bow, rather than whistling in through the companionway (door to you landlubbers).

I’ve eaten my lunch (late) and now contemplating going shopping for supper. Have craving for guacamole, for which I have the major ingredients, but French crisps, not up to scooping without breaking. Suggestions?

On a completely different subject - most of you - probably all, know that I was adopted as a young baby by my lovely and loving Welsh parents. Although it was a fair assumption that I had biological parents somewhere, I always felt slightly as if I was left by elves, or extraterrestrials. The truth and fantasy sont deux, as the French might say. Anyway, to cut to the chase, I now know who my birth family are, and have seen pictures of most of them - well, not counting great nephews, nieces, cousins etc. Sally Randle has been liaising with Amanda, my youngest birth sibling (there were 6 of us), and I have been able to take things slowly since I’m not in a position to talk to or meet any of them until I get back. My birth mother is alive and well at 82, and it seems inevitable that we will meet. Sally and Amanda have been getting on over the phone and email, and it’s possible that Sal and I will go up to the Lake District, where most of the family live. It’s an irony that Sal has lost 3 close members of her family in the recent past, and now she’s helping me to acquire mine. She’s doing a great job and I really appreciate it. More on this subject later, although it’s not about sailing, just life.

navigare necesse est, vivere non est necesse


http://sj06.wordpress.com/2006/05/18/navigare-necesse-est-vivere-non-est-necesse/