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Today the Swale, tomorrow the round the world Finally Friday afternoon arrived and my governor from work and I were heading for the boat. My governor ‘Tony Alexander’ had been out with me once before as a warm up for the approaching race, and we were eager to get to Conyer marina for the afternoon festivities. By the time we had reached
the boat and sorted our selves out the tide was on its way out, but I was still
confident that after conquering Havengore creek Conyer would be no problem. We
left the mooring and headed for the bridge under power hoping our wait at the
bridge would be very short. The bridge operator on the other hand had other
plans which entailed us waiting forty minutes for the bridge to open. Still confident we went through the bridge and pulled out the genoa. Spirits were still high as we made our way along the Swale, occasionally looking at the chart and the downloaded instructions on how to get into Conyer. As we neared our destination I could see the Chasseur heading toward Harty. I attempted to give Bryn a call but got no answer, never mind, I though to my self, we will be moored up and having a barbeque soon. “Right, where’s the entrance to the creek” Tony enquired. “No problem, all we have to do is find the withies that are marked on this highly accurate and up to date chart that I downloaded”. I had decided to follow the withies rather than the buoys as the withies were deeper. Slowly I started to get a little concerned as the withies slowly didn’t appear, and the depth gauge was looking boring showing 0 all the time. At last we saw some withies, though they looked a lot closer the entrance to the creek that they did on the chart. “We’ll head straight through them, that way we can’t go wrong”, I announced in my most confident tone. As we approached we came to a gentle type grinding halt, the type of stop that causes your heart to drop out the bottom of your trouser leg. I swung the tiller around and opened up the throttle, unfortunately this achieved just a little less than nothing. I turned to Tony and explained that there was only one thing left to try, as I pulled my jeans, socks and shirt off. I will probably always remember the face of total disbelief of Tony as I leaped over the side. After spending about ten minutes attempting to move the boat I reluctantly admitted defeat and climbed back onto the boat. I called John on True Spirit and told him of our situation, suggesting that he could call out hello on his way past. “That may be difficult” answered John, “were on the north side of the island”. After that we thought we would settle down for the long wait for the tide. The ground was flat and it comfortable on the boat, however we only had one can of beer left and no rum. As time ticked by we found our selves well high and dry, my thoughts started turning to the barbeque and rum that would be in the yacht club. “I think we could walk it” I suggested to Tony. “Do you think so” he replied not entirely convinced of this new idea. “Yes no problem. We will wiz over there have something to eat and drink and be back before the tide gets back”. With a reluctant nod from Tony it was decided. We would go to the ball. I adorned my shorts and with deck shoes under my arm I once again leaped over the side. I immediately headed for the nearest bank before Tony stated that there was still water where I was heading, and that I should perhaps head for the far bank as the water appeared to out there. Soon I was striding away towards the bank when I heard Tony “No I’m going back, I don’t think I can make it”. When I turned I saw Tony already halfway up the boarding ladder. It appears his very nice sailing boots were a little to short and the mud had just rolled over the top. Back on the boat I cooked a culinary delight and we had half a can of beer each. “What time will we get off” enquired Tony. “About three” I replied, and promptly set the alarm on my phone. I remembered that Pete was in the marina and gave him a call. I explained our situation and he promised to give us a call as he was leaving. So after a dozen games of cards we decided to turn in and get a bit of sleep. Tony was still a little concerned about the alarm going off at three, so I agreed to re-set the alarm for two. Satisfied the anchor was OK and everything that could be done was being done we turned in. At two forty Tony woke me up with the news that the boats were leaving the creek. Seconds later still trying to throw some cloths on I turned the ignition on the engine only to hear the unmistakable clicking of a flat battery. I dived into the cabin and pulled back the seat to reveal my spare and after connecting up with a set of jump leads, the engine fired up into life. After pulling up the anchor we tucked in with the flotilla of boats that resembled a stream of Chinese lanterns floating down a stream. One by one each of the boats anchored in deep water turned off their lights and throw themselves back into bed. This made navigating a little difficult as it was still dark, and we found ourselves swerving to avoid boats all the way to Harty. My revised plan was now to pick up a mooring or at least anchor at Harty near True Spirit. As we approached Harty our spirits were lifted and I was looking forward to being able to catch up on the dream I was having before being woken up. It was a good dream about picking my trophy up for winning the regatta, so you can imagine my horror when as we approached Harty my trusty engine become a little less trusty when it died in a murmuring splutter. Quickly we pulled out the genoa, and under sail continued our slalom course through the moorings. A voice called out from a boat just ahead of us. “Are you OK”? “Yes” I replied “we are looking for True Spirit”. “He’s just behind me”. This did raise my hopes a bit, as I wondered if anything else could go wrong. As we passed the boat I could see True Spirit with Chasseur on one side and Calviere II on the other. John was standing on deck with Pete as I sailed passed. I was so relived to see them it didn’t seem to matter that John had no trousers on. “Hello John my engine is broke” I called as I disappeared into the darkness. John called back telling me
that Pete was coming after me and to roll in my genoa. Relief swept over me as I
saw Pete, John and Steve approaching. (I could almost hear the theme tune of
Hawaii 5.0.) Taking me in tow Pete brought me to a mooring where we could tie
up. It was only now that the question was answered regarding John’s lack of
trousers. Apparently all was quiet and everyone asleep until Pete came along and
misjudged his approach leading to a collision. When I turned up John had come
running up on deck without his attire. What caused the engine to stop was a bolt holding the injector in place had fallen out and the others were loose. Incredibly John spotted the bolt and shortly the engine was repaired and we had gone back to bed. The following morning was a lot windier than Friday and we quickly had some breakfast prior to commencing the battle ahead. We were a little behind the leaders before we reached the start, but we were holding our own against the smaller boats. That was until we reached the point, when everyone turned to port heading for the north of the island. After that we rapidly saw everyone else slowly disappear into the distance. Chasseur came up at quite a rate, and though I was aware Bryn was taking his father I was shocked to see a figure standing on the cabin roof hanging off of the halyards like a trapeze. Later Bryn tried to tell us it was his cousin, but I’m convinced he was it the racing spirit and his dad was shoved up there to gain another knot We continued regardless even reefing both the main and the genoa. (Anyone who knows me would tell you reefing is something I don’t do much) To be honest once we passed the wreck I did consider just heading for home, but couldn’t bring my self to throw in the towel. The only small problem we had was the depth sounder kept turning it’s self off about five minutes after being put on. Thinking it may be the spare going flat I decided to leave it off and hope to save the power for starting the engine once we had finished. Twice on a northerly tack while looking for the next race marker we passed cardinal buoys telling us to keep north. I have no idea how close we got to running aground, but my theory is you won’t run aground unless the depth gauge says zero. Ergo if the depth sounder is not on you won’t run aground. As we approached the All Tide Landing we saw the trot boat with John and Steve on board heading for us, quickly over taken by the racing spirit I called on them not to touch the boat. (As if that would have made much difference) As we crossed the finish and the fog horn was sounded, it didn’t matter whether we won or lost. The achievement of completing the race was an incredible buzz, and though I’m not a racy type person it was an excellent days sailing, even with the little set backs the previous day. I was the last boat to finish with a time of seven hours fifty five minutes, but unlike everyone else who finished within six hours at least I had a full day of sailing. My thanks must go out to Tony, John, and Steve and of course Pete who by now is getting quite used to helping me out. Written by Eddie Johnson |
Last modified: July 13, 2008 Swale Regatta 2008
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