The Gweek Inn

This is the only place to do email! That's my excuse anyway. Just a half of the very estimable Doombar, since I'm driving back to Sally's. The clientele here is quite a mix. The Medieval boatyard workers have gone home for their teas before settling down to a serious Friday night session. They were loud and jolly - a bit like the mechanicals in Midsummer Night's dream. They were talking about dropping tools off scaffolding. One chap said he was heavier than his tool so he'd throw himself off and catch it before it hit the ground. That caused a round of laughter to shake the walls.
The Snork Maiden doesn't have much to report - the list continues! To be followed shortly be the scary budget.
Sally's house is working out well - It's only about 3 miles away - and I managed to keep the log stove burning all yesterday evening.

The Gweek Inn

This is the only place to do email! That's my excuse anyway. Just a half of the very estimable Doombar, since I'm driving back to Sally's. The clientele here is quite a mix. The Medieval boatyard workers have gone home for their teas before settling down to a serious Friday night session. They were loud and jolly - a bit like the mechanicals in Midsummer Night's dream. They were talking about dropping tools off scaffolding. One chap said he was heavier than his tool so he'd throw himself off and catch it before it hit the ground. That caused a round of laughter to shake the walls.
The Snork Maiden doesn't have much to report - the list continues! To be followed shortly be the scary budget.
Sally's house is working out well - It's only about 3 miles away - and I managed to keep the log stove burning all yesterday evening.

WINTER LIFT

Gweek Creek
I am going to miss out the bit where we went aground (after Frenchman's Creek and before the really narrow bit of channel). We got off and were met by the yard workboat which piloted us in the rest of the way. We? Sally Randle and me.
Anyway - the interesting bit is the pictures - so here they are. the whole thing was very quick and easy, although the access channel is scarily narrow and shallow. And we perhaps did hang around eating mackerel just a bit too long. It was very good.

WINTER LIFT

Gweek Creek
I am going to miss out the bit where we went aground (after Frenchman's Creek and before the really narrow bit of channel). We got off and were met by the yard workboat which piloted us in the rest of the way. We? Sally Randle and me.
Anyway - the interesting bit is the pictures - so here they are. the whole thing was very quick and easy, although the access channel is scarily narrow and shallow. And we perhaps did hang around eating mackerel just a bit too long. It was very good.

3 WOMEN IN A BOAT

3 WOMEN IN A BOAT

Something like 15 years ago we ( Sally, Gillian & I) chartered a 36 foot Beneteau for a week in the Ionian and spent a sunny Greek week cruising Corfu and Paxos. Sally brought Dex ( 5 years old) and Gillian brought Maxine (8). They named the auto-pilot "Andrew (something) the Autograph pilot". (Come on you kids - what's the missing name?) We didn't sail very far - in fact we probably only really sailed 2 or 3 times, the Med being what it is we chugged around on the engine and even stayed in the same place for a couple of nights. We had a blow in Paxos where the boat was bouncing around so much that we had to get 3 Irish coffees handed over the bow on a tray. I bought a T-shirt with cartoon cats whose tails spelt 'CORFU'. I still have it, worn thin with 15 years of washing but it reminds me of the holiday and I'm not ready to turn it into engine rags just yet, maybe never. I had a waterproof torch and we shone it into the water at the edge of the harbour wall. We saw a sea slug clinging there, rusty red and looking like it was wearing a cloak.

Six years before that, Gillian and Sally were on board Kiwistar for my 40th birthday. (Stop doing the arithmetic or this story will cease right now!) Also Gloria Mendes & Viv Hurley (Viv, where are you now?) We sailed to Menorca (after a false start and some Catalan tourism), went aground, repelled a boat invasion and generally had a pretty good time. I don't need a T-shirt to remember this trip! I have a photo of us all but I think I look funny in it.

All of which brings us to 2010 and Snork Maiden in Falmouth. In the 1980s life was easy, we all had jobs, money and few real commitments. Things are different now - Sally & Gillian have obligations to paying clients, and although Maxine, Dex and Stella are pretty much grown up, they all require support in their different ways. But the planetary influences must have been favourable, and the urge to get together riding high. Friday evening brought Gillian by train, and Saturday saw Sal arriving by car, via a recce of Exter University with Stella. Snork Maiden can easily accommodate 3 women and on Saturday night we ate and drank and talked and snuggled into our respective bunky beds. Bliss. Snork Maiden was moored at the Falmouth Yacht Haven, so there was a bit of gentle rocking.

The next day was fine, and we set out for the Helford River. There was a strong wind warning, but since Helford wasn't far, and since we all wanted to blow the cobwebs away, off we went. We hadn't even got the sails up before we were shooed away by the Harbourmaster, making room for a freighter to waltz about a bit. Off we went, up went the sails, then I looked behind and oops, there's the Harbourmaster again with a freighter looming up behind him. Off we went again, and now the wind is picking up nicely. The working jib & 1 reef saw us well out in the bay, flying nicely. We almost flew into a dive boat. We tacked, they moved. We tacked again, they moved again. We were never going to be able to leave these chaps! In desperation I went on the port tack, yet again. SM determinedly headed towards Swanpool. Yes, my friends, the wind was on the nose. I jump about re-routing sheets, making encouraging noises. Sally is going quiet and Gillian, after hopping around like the seasoned crew she is, crashed out below, embracing the boathook and clutching a tube of arnica. Pete was so right. The poor SM can't do her best to windward unless we put another set of cars on the aft track. We have been limping along for the last 5 years, with a Heath Robinson arrangement of snatch blocks. I can't even remember why except that I think I might have been an idea I got from a bloke in Hamble... Beware strangers bearing bright ideas - although it did get us to Cherbourg and back at the time. Next season SM will have a lovely new set of cars and will go to windward like a witch! Anyway, after a couple of hours, we've had plenty of bumpy splashing and leaning over and all those nice sailing things, so I decide to put on the engine (praise be to BUKH) and after dropping the jib, we head straight for the Helford. All this hopping about hasn't left much time for navigation but a quick look at the GPS (praise be to GARMIN) and a squiz at the hand-bearing compass soon sort that out. Although it's windy (wind instruments completely unreliable so no idea HOW windy) the visibility is good and we can see where we are going. It soon gets a bit less bumpy and Sally perks up. We find the seasonal green buoy off The Gedges. That's good - now it's plain (plane?) sailing - we put the main away and head for a green visitors' buoy. The first one we choose has a broken hook. We give it a go for practice (we could have caught it by accident) but no go. We go around and choose another one. This time it goes well, with Gillian & Sal on the foredeck and me too once we are on. We have a magic tool that feeds a line through the loop on a small buoy attached to the big buoy by a thinnish rope. This is OK but the boat will quickly fall back with the tide or wind, and both ends of the mooring rope (ours) has to be secured to the deck cleats before the 4 tonnes of boat and 4 knots of tide make this impossible. I sound a bit panicky and that rattles Sal a bit because she hasn't done this before and it's not clear what I'm on about. Gillian is already thinking about how she would get home in case of emergency. By now we are secured and the Harbourmaster (a different one) is heading for us to collect our mooring fee. He also explains what we need to do to get properly moored. We need to get the small buoy on board. It brings with it a heavy chain, with a loop that we can put on a cleat. To achieve this, we have to motor toward the buoy to take the strain off the chain and allow enough slack to make it off. I give hand signals to Sal and she drives the boat with short kicks from the engine. In minutes we are snug and contemplating supper. It's calmer now and we are soon eating curry and rice.

We wake to a lovely morning and all goes according to plan, with the dinghy launched and the outboard motor spluttering to life. I take Gillian in to Helford Passage and we puff our way up the hill to the bus stop. She gets on the number 35 to Falmouth on the first stage of her long journey home. I wish she could stay and lose some of her sorrow in the sea and the fresh winds of the Western approaches. But its been very good to be together and under sail as if no time had passed since Kiwistar, Revolver, Anne of Cleves, Arion Bleu, Cloud Ten, Anemoessa and the Corfu Beneteau with the Autograph pilot.

Next: will Jenny & Sally get to Gweek on time? They meet a fisherman with fat mackerel with disastrous consequences... Oh, and will Dexter or Maxine remember the full name of the autopilot or the yacht we sailed on?

3 WOMEN IN A BOAT

3 WOMEN IN A BOAT

Something like 15 years ago we ( Sally, Gillian & I) chartered a 36 foot Beneteau for a week in the Ionian and spent a sunny Greek week cruising Corfu and Paxos. Sally brought Dex ( 5 years old) and Gillian brought Maxine (8). They named the auto-pilot "Andrew (something) the Autograph pilot". (Come on you kids - what's the missing name?) We didn't sail very far - in fact we probably only really sailed 2 or 3 times, the Med being what it is we chugged around on the engine and even stayed in the same place for a couple of nights. We had a blow in Paxos where the boat was bouncing around so much that we had to get 3 Irish coffees handed over the bow on a tray. I bought a T-shirt with cartoon cats whose tails spelt 'CORFU'. I still have it, worn thin with 15 years of washing but it reminds me of the holiday and I'm not ready to turn it into engine rags just yet, maybe never. I had a waterproof torch and we shone it into the water at the edge of the harbour wall. We saw a sea slug clinging there, rusty red and looking like it was wearing a cloak.

Six years before that, Gillian and Sally were on board Kiwistar for my 40th birthday. (Stop doing the arithmetic or this story will cease right now!) Also Gloria Mendes & Viv Hurley (Viv, where are you now?) We sailed to Menorca (after a false start and some Catalan tourism), went aground, repelled a boat invasion and generally had a pretty good time. I don't need a T-shirt to remember this trip! I have a photo of us all but I think I look funny in it.

All of which brings us to 2010 and Snork Maiden in Falmouth. In the 1980s life was easy, we all had jobs, money and few real commitments. Things are different now - Sally & Gillian have obligations to paying clients, and although Maxine, Dex and Stella are pretty much grown up, they all require support in their different ways. But the planetary influences must have been favourable, and the urge to get together riding high. Friday evening brought Gillian by train, and Saturday saw Sal arriving by car, via a recce of Exter University with Stella. Snork Maiden can easily accommodate 3 women and on Saturday night we ate and drank and talked and snuggled into our respective bunky beds. Bliss. Snork Maiden was moored at the Falmouth Yacht Haven, so there was a bit of gentle rocking.

The next day was fine, and we set out for the Helford River. There was a strong wind warning, but since Helford wasn't far, and since we all wanted to blow the cobwebs away, off we went. We hadn't even got the sails up before we were shooed away by the Harbourmaster, making room for a freighter to waltz about a bit. Off we went, up went the sails, then I looked behind and oops, there's the Harbourmaster again with a freighter looming up behind him. Off we went again, and now the wind is picking up nicely. The working jib & 1 reef saw us well out in the bay, flying nicely. We almost flew into a dive boat. We tacked, they moved. We tacked again, they moved again. We were never going to be able to leave these chaps! In desperation I went on the port tack, yet again. SM determinedly headed towards Swanpool. Yes, my friends, the wind was on the nose. I jump about re-routing sheets, making encouraging noises. Sally is going quiet and Gillian, after hopping around like the seasoned crew she is, crashed out below, embracing the boathook and clutching a tube of arnica. Pete was so right. The poor SM can't do her best to windward unless we put another set of cars on the aft track. We have been limping along for the last 5 years, with a Heath Robinson arrangement of snatch blocks. I can't even remember why except that I think I might have been an idea I got from a bloke in Hamble... Beware strangers bearing bright ideas - although it did get us to Cherbourg and back at the time. Next season SM will have a lovely new set of cars and will go to windward like a witch! Anyway, after a couple of hours, we've had plenty of bumpy splashing and leaning over and all those nice sailing things, so I decide to put on the engine (praise be to BUKH) and after dropping the jib, we head straight for the Helford. All this hopping about hasn't left much time for navigation but a quick look at the GPS (praise be to GARMIN) and a squiz at the hand-bearing compass soon sort that out. Although it's windy (wind instruments completely unreliable so no idea HOW windy) the visibility is good and we can see where we are going. It soon gets a bit less bumpy and Sally perks up. We find the seasonal green buoy off The Gedges. That's good - now it's plain (plane?) sailing - we put the main away and head for a green visitors' buoy. The first one we choose has a broken hook. We give it a go for practice (we could have caught it by accident) but no go. We go around and choose another one. This time it goes well, with Gillian & Sal on the foredeck and me too once we are on. We have a magic tool that feeds a line through the loop on a small buoy attached to the big buoy by a thinnish rope. This is OK but the boat will quickly fall back with the tide or wind, and both ends of the mooring rope (ours) has to be secured to the deck cleats before the 4 tonnes of boat and 4 knots of tide make this impossible. I sound a bit panicky and that rattles Sal a bit because she hasn't done this before and it's not clear what I'm on about. Gillian is already thinking about how she would get home in case of emergency. By now we are secured and the Harbourmaster (a different one) is heading for us to collect our mooring fee. He also explains what we need to do to get properly moored. We need to get the small buoy on board. It brings with it a heavy chain, with a loop that we can put on a cleat. To achieve this, we have to motor toward the buoy to take the strain off the chain and allow enough slack to make it off. I give hand signals to Sal and she drives the boat with short kicks from the engine. In minutes we are snug and contemplating supper. It's calmer now and we are soon eating curry and rice.

We wake to a lovely morning and all goes according to plan, with the dinghy launched and the outboard motor spluttering to life. I take Gillian in to Helford Passage and we puff our way up the hill to the bus stop. She gets on the number 35 to Falmouth on the first stage of her long journey home. I wish she could stay and lose some of her sorrow in the sea and the fresh winds of the Western approaches. But its been very good to be together and under sail as if no time had passed since Kiwistar, Revolver, Anne of Cleves, Arion Bleu, Cloud Ten, Anemoessa and the Corfu Beneteau with the Autograph pilot.

Next: will Jenny & Sally get to Gweek on time? They meet a fisherman with fat mackerel with disastrous consequences... Oh, and will Dexter or Maxine remember the full name of the autopilot or the yacht we sailed on?

FALMOUTH

FALMOUTH

Sorry for the late posting... things got a bit busy.

We arrived in Falmouth on Friday 10th September. It was grey, damp, the kind of late afternoon that makes me wonder why we ever thought that coming back to the UK was a good idea. On a nice evening, Falmouth looks very pretty. This was not such an evening. After the bumpy and tiring Channel crossing, I wasn't even sure that sailing was such a good idea. On my insistence, we headed for (1) the pub and (2) the nearest award-winning fish & chip shop. The Doombar beer was good, and we sat inside, in a warm place near the window. Outside, the Falmouth punters sat in their T-shirts, shorts and summer dresses for all the world as if they were in a Hawaiian beach bar. They gazed across the Carrick Roads - the opposite shore barely visible - as if waiting for the green flash. OK - I want what they're taking; maybe it's just Cornwall.

After a coffee and a crab sanwich to go, Al took the train back to Bristol on the following morning. So strange not to be together after a month in very close company. My task in Falmouth was to find a place to leave Snork Maiden for the winter. As most of you know by now, we lift her every winter for lots of good reasons. But where? Falmouth has a bewildering number of boatyards ranging from the posh to the downright scruffy with prices to match. That Sunday I got in touch with Pete&Sue (forever bracketed on my phone list, and therefore my mind). Pete couldn't be found - racing, pub, home - but Sue came for supper on board and we ran through the list of possibles (as well as life catch-up). Pete is a very boat-y person and Sue loves him and likes nice-weather sailing. Together they spent 4 chunky seasons in the Med. They say it wasn't enough! Their boat is called "On the Rocks" but not for the reason you're thinking of! Anyway, now they live in Mawnan Smith, a few miles outside Falmouth.

To trim the story, I checked out s few yards, the posh and the scruffy, and the very inventive Park &
Ride. It's maybe typical of Falmouth that the car park, very necessary for summer visitors, transforms itself into a temporary boatyard for the winter, equally necessary for the boaties & yotties. Nearly went for this - huge novelty value, but it was a busy road bike ride from the centre of town, and maybe a slightly spooky place to spend the night.

We were moored at the Falmouth Visitors Yacht Haven, watched over by a rota of would be / has been yotties. Simeon asked me why I hadn't thought about Gweek - a boatyard on a creek of the Helford River, on past Daphne D's Frenchman's. So I got on the bus (easier said...) and 45 minutes and a tour of the Falmouth hinterland later, there I was. Nice boatyard, shop, pub, swans, people living aboard, wooden boat building, showers and reasonably clean loos.... yes, we could live here for a bit. And it's much cheaper than Falmouth.

Next… will Gillian & Sally come down for Snork Maiden's last voyage of the season...

FALMOUTH

FALMOUTH

Sorry for the late posting... things got a bit busy.

We arrived in Falmouth on Friday 10th September. It was grey, damp, the kind of late afternoon that makes me wonder why we ever thought that coming back to the UK was a good idea. On a nice evening, Falmouth looks very pretty. This was not such an evening. After the bumpy and tiring Channel crossing, I wasn't even sure that sailing was such a good idea. On my insistence, we headed for (1) the pub and (2) the nearest award-winning fish & chip shop. The Doombar beer was good, and we sat inside, in a warm place near the window. Outside, the Falmouth punters sat in their T-shirts, shorts and summer dresses for all the world as if they were in a Hawaiian beach bar. They gazed across the Carrick Roads - the opposite shore barely visible - as if waiting for the green flash. OK - I want what they're taking; maybe it's just Cornwall.

After a coffee and a crab sanwich to go, Al took the train back to Bristol on the following morning. So strange not to be together after a month in very close company. My task in Falmouth was to find a place to leave Snork Maiden for the winter. As most of you know by now, we lift her every winter for lots of good reasons. But where? Falmouth has a bewildering number of boatyards ranging from the posh to the downright scruffy with prices to match. That Sunday I got in touch with Pete&Sue (forever bracketed on my phone list, and therefore my mind). Pete couldn't be found - racing, pub, home - but Sue came for supper on board and we ran through the list of possibles (as well as life catch-up). Pete is a very boat-y person and Sue loves him and likes nice-weather sailing. Together they spent 4 chunky seasons in the Med. They say it wasn't enough! Their boat is called "On the Rocks" but not for the reason you're thinking of! Anyway, now they live in Mawnan Smith, a few miles outside Falmouth.

To trim the story, I checked out s few yards, the posh and the scruffy, and the very inventive Park &
Ride. It's maybe typical of Falmouth that the car park, very necessary for summer visitors, transforms itself into a temporary boatyard for the winter, equally necessary for the boaties & yotties. Nearly went for this - huge novelty value, but it was a busy road bike ride from the centre of town, and maybe a slightly spooky place to spend the night.

We were moored at the Falmouth Visitors Yacht Haven, watched over by a rota of would be / has been yotties. Simeon asked me why I hadn't thought about Gweek - a boatyard on a creek of the Helford River, on past Daphne D's Frenchman's. So I got on the bus (easier said...) and 45 minutes and a tour of the Falmouth hinterland later, there I was. Nice boatyard, shop, pub, swans, people living aboard, wooden boat building, showers and reasonably clean loos.... yes, we could live here for a bit. And it's much cheaper than Falmouth.

Next… will Gillian & Sally come down for Snork Maiden's last voyage of the season...