baltimore64

The cruise – 2008

I have always written about my sailing holidays. At the time, I think I didn’t know why I was doing it. However, now when I look back at the various log-books, I am so glad that I did. As teenagers, we would assemble a motley fleet of dinghies, and my halfdecker before disappearing on the rivers for a fortnight. It was bliss… and it was cheap! Plus of course there was fire, sailing, and illicit drinking…

But. It has taken me 2 hours just to locate this particular log-book, as I appear to suffer from Captain Flint’s trunk syndrome…

The trunk.
The logbook.

So, I can’t put the entire week into one entry. I will transcribe exactly what I find.

Day 1
Well, today was the first day of what would (I except) to prove to be a difficult/interesting trip. Firstly, we have different craft entirely this year as we are using my broads yacht ‘Corsair’.

And, as most of the usual crew are either in India, or working hard, the numbers have also shrunk noticeably. Anyways this year we have James, Theo, Chris and myself.

Anyway, today! We set off in characteristic rain, and drove to Oby through relentless rain. By some fluke it did in fact ease off (what’s going on?) And at last though we did motor from Oby Dyke, and hoist a double reefed main & small jib. This proved very sensible as we stormed upriver to Potter Heigham. There we actually executed a smart mooring, and then quanted through the Arch.

After the boring procedure of mast lowering/raising was… well in truth this time is was not boring, the mast stuck in the hatch carling, and was forceably ‘persuaded’ to move, and nearly killed Chris (next time).

After Potter Heigham we roared upriver to Meadow Dyke and reached onto Horsey, that moment when you reach it, winding down Meadow Dyke is still one of the most dramatic moments of Broads sailing.

One very good thrash later we came to rest before motoring back up Meadow Dyke. During that time, we picked up a Martham halfdecker helmed by an exceedingly grumpy man. (n.b. they were paddling head to wind, we towed them out the dyke, much to the relief of their crew).

Once we’d left them, we chuffed upto Hickling where much to my surprise we saw ‘Mandi’ (commissioned by a lesbian school teacher and named to spell “M and I”) and also helped a ‘Japonica’ to move, re-moor and then sensibly decide to stay for the night.

Goodnight.

p.s. During this period, my good friend Theo was kind enough to illustrate the logbook, with my fountain pen. For this I am very grateful.

Our route.
Theo’s first illustration- Horsey Mere

Day 2

Well, this morning proved quite challenging. It was tremendously windy (F6-7) conversation between us and the ‘Japonica’ moored opposite was entirely based on how many reefs we would require!

In the ended, we opted for three & the storm jib and blasted across Hickling. Even with our stem-set jib and tiny mainsail we have the cabin-sides under!!!

Potter Heigham proved as ever quite forgettable, although some basic victualling in Lathams did occur. We sensibly motored from Potter, for two reasons;

A.) the wind had increased once more.

B.) in our furious sail across Hickling, I had shredded the storm jib and now had copious amounts of sewing to attend to.

On our way to Ludham Bridge we did an excellent piece of salvage, which results in a new acquired boathook. All credit to Chris for going wrist-deep in water to recover it.

After Ludham bridge we sailed with the freshly repaired storm jib setting wonderfully, it almost became civilised and briefly was sunny! Some nifty quanting past Irstead saw us out onto Barton.

Quant, sail & motor saw us into Stalham where an agreeable pint in the ‘Harnser’ left us brave… Hence via Tesco strode back to ‘Corsair’ and making a night passage to NBPC HQ on Barton, we’ve pitched camp inside a shed (no really!) set some fireworks and now are musing on inhabiting an island.

Goodnight.

Hickling Broad – Artists impression!
Our route – Day 2

Days 1 & 2 – the photographic record.

Theo – just left Oby.
Horsey
Horsey
Day 2 – breakfast, X2 Primus Stoves.
Storm jib repairs
Barton – night Day 2

Rigging & 1st sail

The first week afloat – it was odd to be honest. I drove multiple times to Oby, just to check on everything. Nervous and excited, I got to grips with ensuring that the bilges were pumped, and that ‘Corsair’ lay on her mooring well.

Oby was (is) a DIY affair, it’s a reed bank, with a selection of rickety platforms or moorings posts for you to choose from. My mooring had some posts – but no platform. It’s amazing how confident you could get, striding into the reeds before taking that final leap from the squidge onto the side-deck! Hesitation was futile, and often damp up to about the knee.

Another bonus, was its location meant I was in prime sailing territory, on the river Bure about 1 1/2 miles from the confluence with the Thurne. I could literally pick any of the four compass points, and sail in that direction.

But yes – rigging. Approximately 400ft of cordage, and steel wires, and blocks, all there for me to make sense of. Sticking to a principle installed by Don Street and his ‘Iolaire’, I kept things simple. Gear should be easy to use, straightforward to repair and reliable!

I know that ‘Corsair’ is a Broads Yacht, and it’s an almighty leap to compare her to ‘Iolaire’ an ocean-going cruiser. Bear with me. Any boat is only as good as her crew and her rig/gear. Keep it simple. You’ll have enough on your plate with everything else that goes wrong when sailing. I do occasionally sail properly (at sea), so I hope I’ve some good advice in my head.

One thing I am forever grateful for, is that the halyards are different colours. Being able to shout ‘Pull the blue one’, to the foredeck in times of crisis is not to be sniffed at…

‘Corsair’ had in fact two rigs. One dated from 1961, and was a snug Gunter rig. The other, was purchased by Joe in 1988 from a much larger River Cruiser – a class known as ‘Sabrina’s’. Crucial differences were about 5ft LOA, wider beam and draft (to the advantage of Sabrina). Of course, being 21 and invincible, the choice I made was inevitable!!

Corsair – Wroxham Broad (1960’s)
Corsair – river Yare (1990’s)

Rigged, with sails bent on – the first sail was to commence. Aboard were my Mother, and my girlfriend. What a learning curve! (in so many ways) – we sailed upto Womack Water, downhill on the way, but tacking home.

First impressions… Powerful, and responsive… But oh she heeled, she heeled! ‘Grace’ my previous boat was very firm bilged and stiff, so had very different stability characteristics. ‘Corsair’ will heel readily until the toe-rail kisses the water, it takes you being very stupid to go further… which I would in time!

Overall, it was a tremendous amount to absorb. ‘Corsair’ carries her way for about a fortnight, draws 3ft 8″ compared to 2ft 6″, and is much more likely to be tide-rode than blown sideways when mooring. VERY different from a 20ft halfdecker.

Most memorable about the first sail. Difficult to choose from, but I’d say being chased by the River Inspector – complete with blue light for non-payment of river toll. That’s the memory that’s stood the test of time!

It is bewitching to sail ‘Corsair’ – she sails like a little big boat. It’s an odd way of putting it, but it makes sense I promise. Makes me smile everytime.

The rudder however was odd, very odd. It just had a neutral sensation, and didn’t really feel like it gripped. Control felt ‘marginal’ at times. I made a note to address this that winter.

During those first few weeks sailing, I learnt a lot. Fast. Some good, some bad. I only had to be rescued from a reedbank once thankfully, but the rescue cost me precious funds (£20) which I didn’t have to spare.

However, you will learn fast when you mostly sail single-handed, and without an engine. For good reason. One, I believe if you can make a boat sail, and mooring, manoeuvring, etc without an engine – you’ll be in good stead when the engine won’t start.

Secondly, when carrying the Outboard my mooring was a chest bursting, face reddening, knee buckling 10 minute walk from the carpark (field) at Oby. Sod that!

Next time, we plan a good old-fashioned sailing holiday. What could possibly go wrong.

Getting started, a big learning curve…

So. 21 & a wooden boat owner. That was… interesting. Most of my friends were perplexed when I started dropping out of the usual Friday or Saturday night pub trips… instead I would mutter about ‘the yard’ or somesuch before disappearing off.

Work colleagues soon grew used to seeing my finger nails sporting either primer, varnish or remnants of gloss paint – almost all of them by this point were fed up listening to me talking about the boat!

The only photographs I had of ‘Corsair’ complete and in commission were from the 1990’s;

My finances dictacted most of what I could do at this stage. Jobs were strictly completed on an absolutely essential basis. The gas stove remained unconnected, as did the cabin lights.

The bilge pump was wired in, using a defunct battery from my Father’s car, the sum total of my electrical systems until 2018.

I was lucky, very lucky in that J&J had spent the money on ‘Corsair’ throughout their ownership. I could see that she had been comprehensively looked after, which made my life easier in that first fit-out. They generously passed over everything associated with ‘Corsair’, warps, rigging, sails, covers, mattresses, cabin curtains. I think I only put aboard fenders and some crockery. Apart of course from a Tilley Lamp & Primus. No electricity or gas you see…

At this point in my ownership, I knew very little of her history – except that she had been owned by Jamie Campbell’s father. Who I wrote to, asking about the boat. His reply was fascinating.

I learnt that ‘Corsair’ was built by Chumley & Hawke in Horning, 1951. She was one of a class of 6, being named ‘Clipper VI’. He provided some early photographs which gave me an exceptional opportunity.

My favourites date from 1961, showing her freshly purchased and made ‘yachty’ for the Campbell family. I like to think that they were as thrilled with her as I, although I suspect they were more sensible.

Corsair – Wroxham, 1961; Landamore’s slip.

I think it was April, when she was ready for launch. Keeping this quite secret – I’d booked the day off, and headed upto Thurne. Apprehensively, I stood back and watched as the strops were placed, she was hoiked onto a trailer and began the 1/4 mile journey to the river.

You’ll note the unusual rudder. More of that later…

At this stage, I hadn’t yet fitted the canvas ‘bellows’ around the roof, so it couldn’t be raised. I spent the first night aboard, roof lowered, awning off, listening for the bilge pump. If you’re interested this is the most uncomfortable way you can stay on a Broads yacht. A fact affirmed to me by my girlfriend at the time. She adamantly stated that I needed to resolve the lack of canvas bellows. One green, antique Scout Tent duly butchered, we had bellows, which smelt gorgeous being actual canvas.

(n.b. I fitted this canvas myself, with ferrous grip-fast nails… into the MAHOGANY CABIN SIDES… I inwardly cringe now when I look back)

The next day, we motored slowly to my mooring at Oby Dyke. What little I did know, you had to wait for a wooden boat to ‘take up’ before sailing her. So the first sail would wait.

But yes! Here she was! My very own river cruiser, afloat!! Looking lovely. (Invoices mostly paid, or rather most invoices paid).

Next, we (I) learn to sail a River Cruiser, and I explore more of her early history.

The beginning – purchase & realisation.

Approximately a week after I had spoken with Joe & Julia at Somerleyton, I was on my way to meet at their house. A telephone conversation, and some email traffic had resulted in my knowing certain particulars about the boat.

One, she was a wooden Broads River Cruiser, sail number 64.

Two, Joe & Julia had owned her about 20 years, but had purchased another larger River Cruiser, hence the sale.

Three. I had been expressly forbidden by my parents, and close friends to buy a larger, wooden boat.

So. One grey morning, I duly arrived at J&J’s house. ‘Come in, Come in’ was bellowed from the end of a tiled corridor. Duly, as I went in – I was passed by Julia who waved and disappeared to the Co-Op. This was my first meeting of Joe (referred to as Old Joe, to avoid confusion). Briefly we discussed the situation, my lack of money and dry cabin… Before setting out to a nearby boatyard.

Above is one of the first photographs I have of ‘Corsair’. I remember now, how surreal the day felt. Old Joe’s deft driving, chain smoking and friendly chatter meant we arrived at the boatyard before the situation had sunk in.

I was stood, looking at a beautiful, large wooden boat. And I was talking as if I could buy it. What was I doing? How could I pay?! All these thoughts were absent as I stood there, peering under her tarpaulin.

Struck by how spell-bound I was, I must admit I took a cursory look, before saying to Joe ‘she’s perfect’. At which point it was agreed we’d talk business.

Days later, having agreed the terms. I found myself sneaking back – to have a look more thoroughly. I had a River Cruiser. She was PERFECT! A sweet shear, a cabin, two bunks. A cabin. Reasonable size, pretty chrome trim, a gaff rig, a cabin (have I mentioned this).

In all honesty – I never thought I would own a yacht like this. She was (is) a beauty. Twice I just appeared, and stood there on deck or next to her. Just absorbing everything.

Bewitched by thoughts of nights afloat, sailing adventures and the like – I broke the news to friends and family. Some were more enthusiastic than others. Unfortunately a staunch friendship was tremendously damaged by the purchase of ‘Corsair’ – something which took many years to rectify.

Meanwhile, I was then faced with the prospect of making this yacht work, she had to be commissioned. My half-decker ‘Grace’ had to be sold. Many things overlooked suddenly came to light.

But. I had a river cruiser. A thought which occupied my mind as a smile played on my lips.

After about 4 months, ‘Grace’ moved onto new owners – I was incredibly sad at her departure. However, it was very apparent that Joe, Julia & myself were to become staunch friends. We started sailing on their boat, whilst I rummaged through sheds to find awnings, covers, sails, ropes, shackles, outboard motors… I was hooked.

My abiding memory of this time was the first attempts to make ‘Corsair’ take up. I rigged up a series of hosepipes to the yard standpipe, and got busy. Down in the forepeak. 3 years ashore hadn’t been kind, and every seam gaped.

I knew nothing, I know that now – but ignorance is bliss. I just watched as the water poured STRAIGHT out from underneath the hull, as I pottered about screwing things into the cabin, or deciding which locker would hold the ropes, etc. In truth, it was so bad that I kept a 1/2 oil drum underneath the boat. About every 20 minutes, I could pick this up and empty the collected water back into the boat!!

Still – I had done the most important thing I could think of…

2007 – Oulton Broad.

I was sailing my halfdecker onto Oulton Broad, having tacked the entire length of the Waveney from Beccles, on a miserable May weekend which had been unrelentingly damp and grey. By the time I had arrived I was tired, cold and deeply envious of other yachts nearby. The sum total of my weather proofing equated to a PVC awning covering the cockpit, the floor of which was also my bunk.

I moored at the yacht station, put the cover on and tried to stop shivering. I begin squaring away;

Dry floor. Watch sail dripping onto floor. Realize this will not dry. Swear quietly and dig out clothing and sleeping bag from forepeak. Realise these are all soaking. Swear more.

Resigned to my fate, I cook over the Primus and trudge up an increasingly rain soaked highstreet to the George Borrow pub, where everyone is.

11:30pm. Return to ‘Grace’ – realise it’s now a NE F9, with driving rain and everything is rattling, howling and thumping up and down in the squalls. Not much sleep to be had, especially when rafted four yachts deep.

3am. Stuffing ropes, spare sails and anything else to hand in the gap between awning and deck, as cold driving spray is soaking everything.

6am. Give up, attempt to make tea, struggle with lighting Primus. Feeling dejected I walk around Nicolas Everitt Park, to try and warm up. Everything is soaked.

That Sunday lunchtime, following the dampest night imaginable without a periscope. The fleet convened, having reached Somerleyton. We all crowded into the bar of the Dukes Head. Stories are exchanged about late-night escapades, adjusting warps, putting more fenders on, deck leaks and such.

CF – a departed friend, astutely remarks that my night can’t have been comfortable. My heartfelt confirmation caused him to pause. He turned and summoned Julia “Oh, Julia – this is Joe. You want to talk to him, he wants to buy a river cruiser”.

Julia, and Joe promptly move to sit either side of me (in a classic pincer move), to talk more about ‘Corsair’. After the 3rd pint, I hear myself agreeing to come and visit them next weekend to talk more…

I returned to my mooring, having been towed by s/n 219 much of the way. Having been deposited, I relied on my outboard, an ancient Evinrude (read Evil&Rude) which spluttered and coughed my way back up the Yare. The weather had abated to rain, with low cloud and a brisk N f3. Hours later, with the covers on, I put thoughts of boating away as I drove silently home.

Introduction

Hello. I wanted to write. Anonymously if possible. Odd being a private person, and wanting to write publicly at the same time.

I am a Broadsman. I own an old wooden sailing boat, which I adore. I wanted to share with the you my experience of owning her, some history, and recount some anecdotes.

C&H 1951. — Clipper VI – how she originally appeared in 1951.

My sailing is typically shared with my wife and two dogs aboard, together we navigate the rivers of Norfolk & Suffolk. In terms of influences, think Ransome, Griffiths, and Stock. ‘Sailing just for fun’ about sums it up.

In terms of myself, I am the owner/skipper. Most of the work on ‘Corsair’ is done by me, and most of it not to a high standard. Cheque book sailing may at some point feature in my life, but for now I am the one who ‘enjoys’ make do & mend, repairs and often having to turn my hand at all sorts of tasks to keep her in good order.

2007 – the beginning.

I was 21. I owned a sensible, easily handled gaff halfdecker called ‘Grace’, who had been one of the staunchest friends I had ever known.

Cutting my teeth sailing solo, camping holidays afloat, getting into trouble, getting myself out of trouble, all happened on this boat. I can honestly say that during my 6 year ownership of ‘Grace’ I never once doubted her.

So. Why change? Well. I’ll start writing the story of how I came to own ‘Corsair’ – and I’ll publish it very soon I promise.