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The expeditionary mood of the latest club
weekend was set in the Dry Foods Aisle of the Gosport Asda on Saturday
morning. With a trolley full of sandwich components and victualling
complete save for Cap'n Simon's elusive 500ml Dr Pepper bottles, Sean
turned to me as he spied the pasta. "We'd better get a couple of bags -
you know, just in case we get stuck out there..."
When we'd arrived at Lutine that morning it was already pretty blowy,
and Cap'n Simon, ably assisted by Liz, Andy, Jan and his girlfriend
Sabena, as well as Lorne, had all agreed that conditions looked pretty
good to try for the Round the Island Challenge. Sean and I had
volunteered to go and pick up the provisions, and on the way stopped
off to get the forecast from the marina office. What we found was
somewhat unusual for early July. Force 7/8, becoming 9 later.
Sean and I had debated this on the way out and back and had concluded
that neither of us had ever sailed in that sort of wind, but we seemed
in capable hands, and if they said it was safe, we were sure it would
be. On arriving back at Lutine, Cap'n Simon, in his understated way,
announced that "it might be a bit bumpy round the back of the Island",
so we were heading off to Yarmouth instead.
With three reefs in the mainsail and headsail straining we set out for
Yarmouth with a pretty consistent 26-27 knots and Lutine heeled onto
her rail. We were making 7 or 8 knots, steadily, for the next couple of
hours - seemingly regardless of how we trimmed the sails or who was at
the wheel. By the time we'd made Yarmouth the sun had come out for us,
and whilst the occasional squall saw the wind spool up above 35 knots,
with 38 true being seen, the sea was remarkably flat and conditions
couldn't have been much better for the downwind cruise back to Cowes.
Arriving at our mooring in Cowes at around four, with a mackerel sky
looming behind us, (producing the opportunity to learn some salty
sea-dog weather lore), it was felt best to adjourn to the Anchor before
the storm hit, and stay there, which, largely, we did until midnight.
Morning dawned with torrential rain and over 30 knots showing on the
instruments - even in our sheltered position halfway up the Medina.
There was no great eagerness to get out to sea, and after a hearty
breakfast in the cafe, half the crew set out on a shopping expedition
to Cowes, whilst the sensible half stayed below decks playing cards.
With shopping completed and our captain sporting a new pair of Slam
waterproofs, we motored out of Cowes in the driving wind and rain,
passing a dismasted yacht heading back in (his carbon mast had snapped
in two) and listening out on the VHF to various concerned reports of a
lost yacht. We fully unfurled the headsail and set out back to Gosport,
fully intending to sail straight back and call it a day. But as luck
had it, the rain abated, the wind steadied to 26/27 knots again and
after a briefing on the likely sea-state ("bumpy") we decided that,
given that we all had a bit of time to spare and we had been so cruelly
cheated of our round the island time-trial, we may as well go and grab
the Nab Tower Trophy instead.
Cap'n Simon's "bumpy" description was mistaken. Frankly, it was hilly,
and possibly even mountainous once we were out of the lee of the
Island.
With Sean at the helm and Lutine romping all over the seascape like a
crazed bull chasing cows in an Alpine pasture, we made Nab tower in
record time. But our lead was marginal, so rather than going for a
pedestrian tack around the bottom of the tower, we went for a gybe
around the top - with Simon helming now and warning us beforehand to
hold on as it would be a "bit different".
Gybing just past the tower, in the white backwash from the waves that
were pounding the old Nab, we picked up valuable seconds,
sling-shotting out to head back upwind to the forts. Jan took the helm
now, and we pulled the headsail in, pushing Lutine near horizontal,
surf breaking over her bow, one rail underwater and six crew hiking out
on the other. Tearing away from the tower, we were briefly shadowed by
a sinister Bond-villain's superyacht (this thing is so
strange I'd actually urge you to Google it -- "Sigma SF99"). We egged
Lutine on, checking the clock and looking at the line and never quite
sure if we'd do it. But we did - with twenty-five seconds to go we
crossed the line to a mighty cheer, a great result to round off an
extraordinary weekend.
Robin Johnson
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