Jumbling the order of things (Editor’s privilege) – today I have spent a thoroughly enjoyable hour at Jeckells the sail makers. Based in Hoveton – the Jeckells family first started making sails in 1832.
Thankfully – they have kept a fantastic archive of old drawings. I am, as ever incredibly grateful that they, like many have tolerated my bumbling presence, listened to some half-baked tale about an old Blakes model, and set me loose on the archives…
It was like seeing an old family photo album if I’m honest. ‘Bonito’, ‘Pirate’, ‘Wayfarer – now ‘The Only Girl’, Breeze, Maidie, Silver Arrow, Pixie, Mystery, White Wings… all familiar names. Looking at the sail plans from the 1920/30’s was an incredible experience.
Most of the old drawings are jumbled – so it did take some detective work. However; in the album above, you’ll see Wenonah, Brown Elf, Clipper – and ‘Corsair’s sail plans.
I’ll be using the Clipper sail-plan to aid the restoration of the Blakes model. Plus it’s interesting to look closely at the large sail-plan on transparency – which I believe it what was draw for the Campbell family – then the smaller diagram which shows how Peter Olorenshaw had the rig reduced.
My heartfelt thanks to the kindness of Chris Jeckells, Richie Dugdale and Sam Goodbourn for helping me today.
Cruise 2009 – Day 1
Now – back to 2009, and of course we had planned a sailing holiday. I’m going to add a footnote to the log-entry for Sunday 9th August 2009. It’s something that never made it into the official record (as it were), and. well. You can judge for yourself.
This year’s cruise started in an unorthodox fashion, with most of the fleet scattered across the Southern Rivers. ‘Corsair’ was slogging up the Yare against a persistant ebb-tide, towing a particularly heavy and unwieldy rescue boat. Honestly, there’s nothing as soul-destroying as motoring against the ebb.
However, with an excellent sense of timing – Chris B. stepped out of his Dad’s car, just as ‘Corsair’ was less than 30ft from Reedham Quay! It was a case of quickly mooring, and then about 1/2 hour later – Robert arrived.
But no, the motoring wasn’t done with, no. We had to continue upriver to collect ‘Nulsec’ with James & Alison. They had sustained some damage to the tiller/rudder stock and although launched, were stranded.
It took about 3 1/2 hours to get upriver to them, and then back to Reedham. In preparation for the inevitable tedium (!) of repair – I managed to cook a curry for everyone on the downriver leg… Oh. Yes! ‘Corsair’ now boasts a two burner Primus 535 stove.
I had found this beauty in the veritable treasure trove that is Andy Seedhouse’s chandlery at Woodbridge. An errant piece of Oak block-board kitchen counter ‘fell’ into my Volvo from the skip outside ‘Owl Kitchens’ in Bungay, and avoila! A galley unit and cooker installed. (it was about time – breakfasts were a chore on several elderly Primus stoves) all cooking was being done in the cockpit, and the disconnected gas cooker was purely ornamental.
Plus – there was this new legislation called the Boat Safety Scheme – I knew I couldn’t afford to pay to have the respective safety measures put in for a gas installation… By some astonishing loophole – paraffin stoves aren’t included in the inspection!! (I’m not tight, just careful)
Typically the rest of our evening passed quietly (!) in a time honoured fashion outside the Nelson P.H. in Reedham. Although some design specifications were thoroughly exceeded by the skipper. (you can judge for yourselves…)
‘Now, lishun, lishun to me…’
Added excitement came from being subject to some drive-by eggings (no, really!) from local yobs.
At about midnight, we retired.
Epilogue
Back to 2009, from 2019. That day’s entry was short. Deliberately so. We moored at Reedham at about 7pm, just down river from two large, ‘Caribbean’ type holiday boats. These were moored stern to stern, about 3 feet apart. Two families were staying on them.
We were sat, outside the Nelson P.H. – when suddenly there was a lot of screaming. Robert & I both jumped up and ran to the source.
Worst case scenario really – two adults in the water, a man and a woman – both screaming, the father thrashing wildly screaming a name, over, and over.
This gives me goosebumps now. We knew that a child was in the river, the ebb was pouring out to sea. It’s funny I’m typing this, and there’s a cold clarity in me. I remember running about halfway down the motor cruiser (down tide), before thudding into the cabinside like a rugby player – forcing it from the quayside.
Looking down – I could only see a child’s hand and wrist above the water, getting lower. I can remember how white they looked, against the inky black of the water in the shadow of the quay.
Next thing I know, I’ve thrown myself down on my belly and I’ve grabbed this hand. And then a VERY wet and frightened children is stood on the quayside by me. Thank god he was breathing – albeit clearly in shock.
In slow motion I’m running back to the stern – and with adrenalin pulsing Robert and I lift the Mother out of the river, before similar hoicking the Dad out.
None of them were wearing lifejackets.
At the time, I didn’t realise the significance of what’d happened. I take no pride from it, it could have easily ended so differently, and the juxtaposition was between being carefree on holiday, or being adjacent to a drowning.
Quietly, the family returned to the boat, and agreed that lifejackets would be worn from now on.
There is no bravado in this, I never wrote it down at the time – it wasn’t really absorbed. I wrote it now, simply because it’s part of the experience I’ve had, owning ‘Corsair’.
Goodnight.
A Broadsman 