Autumn marks the end of the sailing season for most boaters. Others stay active. For many years now since my enforced early retirement from sea, Whimbrel and her crew fall into the latter category.
After my return from taking my youngest brother and a cousin away for a great late summer early autumn weekend on the River Blackwater, I have been giving the tender, Twitch, a bit of a going over. The poor girl has had a bit of a bashing this last season. Extraordinarily, the little tender will be thirty years old next year!
It takes me a bit of time to move through the season of summer and get autumn inside my head. It has been especially difficult this year due to the ‘second summer’ we’ve enjoyed in Essex’s corner of Britain.
But, the autumnal jobs have to be progressed … the summer’s damage to the tender’s gunnels has been sanded back and coats topped up. The thwarts too. Then all was overcoated.
Slipping out of our new base at the Blackwater Marina, Maylandsea.
In between times the mate and I enjoyed a sail out on the tide, followed by a recent weekend away during a very unseasonable warm period. Before leaving though, we took Whimbrel’s mainsail off and fitted her old one: all three sails are due a make-over and wash at Wilkinsons Sails in Faversham.
Tide’s were later afternoon, so we dropped out to the area of Lawling Creek where one can comfortably sit at anchor protected from virtually all directions.
As we dropped anchor, the sun began to set…
There was little breeze left towards the end of the day, a bit of a blowy one at that, but as forecasted it died! Barely a lap against the lands of the boat’s clinker planks was heard overnight…
The morning was quite like it should be in summer. Blazing sunshine, temperatures towards the middle 20’s and NO wind! We managed to more or less sail (drift) out of Lawling then puttered down towards the sea.
A little after passing the Tollesbury Pier cardinal, a breeze filled in from the South-east. Great, we were sailing properly and tacked out to clear of Sales Point.
There were quite a lot of water-borne activity with several barges seen too.
Coming back up the R. Blackwater towards the end of the afternoon.
After a sublime evening in Lawling again, we made our way back to our berth on the Monday morning, breakfasting on bacon rolls after berthing…
So, home came the newer sail cover for a wash and coat of waterproofing.
Cover, cleaned and reproofed…
The tender’s floor boards, rudder, dagger board and oars came home too: they were in foe a treat…
Dagger board refurbishment in progress.
The dagger board was easy. Scuffing’s were sanded and touch up coats applied before a final overcoat of varnish/paint.
The rudder needed a little more attention…
Rudder receiving coat after coat to bared areas…
The floor boards were hard sanded with an orbital sander and a thinned coat applied. Meanwhile, with a couple of broken board battens, these were made up ready to replace.
Temporary screws were used to secure until proper copper nails could be obtained…
Broken battens on one set of floor boards being renewed… View looks odd, but I was looking down onto it!
In between times, the oars were stripped back to bare and sanded, before coat after coat was applied…
Stripping to bare wood of the oars…
Currently, all parts a refinished except for a final coat to the oars. Last week was perfect for the sun shone every day with temperatures around 22-24 deg C, meaning a thinned coat was overcoated later in the day.
My ‘shed’ has bits of dinghy spread about…
Popping aboard Whimbrel after walking near to her mooring, all the cushions, oilies and coats were transported home for their winter washing. Cushions for storage, but we always put the oilies back aboard for the boat is regularly used during the colder months…
Coats already in the washer … the rest awaits a turn!
I have been looking quite hard at the varnish work carried out to Whimbrel during her refurbishment – May/June this year – and have found no signs of any breakdown. Early days, but good news. The coating seems to be pretty tough too (Le Tonkinois No. 1 varnish). This will all get a hard sand in the spring and given two coats.
So, here we are in mid-October. Supposedly the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. The hedgerows are full of berries – blackberries long past their best, sloes, not so good in our parts for it has been too dry, but lots of them. It is said if the hawthorn and rosehip fruits are good then we are in for a hard winter – hope not!
Tomorrow, I am planning on a lone sail from the mooring for a few hours on the tide. It’ll be my first alone from our new mooring…
At long last, I can ‘release’ the title to you: it is out there in the wider world of book sales.
The publisher said in their letter when accepting the book and offering a contract:
‘…your submission was found to be a powerful, poignant memoir, an admirable chronicle of overcoming extraordinary odds…’
‘…keen to comment on your masterful way with words and your remarkable ability to pull the audience into the text, to the point that it often felt like the reader was right there reliving he memories alongside you.’
‘comment(ed) on your engaging writing style and applaud the time and passion you’ve taken … we believe it to be a worthwhile addition to the genre…’
The book’s title is: Sailing through life…
Front cover of book.
Austin Macauley, my current publisher, has just released their sales pitch for the book and, I believe, it is on Amazon now too. Other sites will appear. But your local bookshop would surely love you to pop in…
As said in an earlier post, the release date is Friday 10th November 2023.
There are 80 colour plates and a front piece map.
The book comes in three formats:
Hard Back: ISBN: 9781398481343 @ £25.99
Soft Back: ISBN: 9781398481336 @ £18.99
EPub: ISBN: 9781398481350 @ £3.50
Blurb:
When Nick Ardley asked for a prostate specific antigen (PSA) test, the aftershocks of a prostate cancer diagnosis were momentous. Frightened, he said he was too young to die. Petrified, he understandably broke down. But all was not lost: his family and the boat shared with his wife were soon at work repairing his life.
A life-long sailor, the salt marsh fringed waters of the greater Thames estuary had always enthralled, and it was to them he went for healing. It’s a place where in the free flow of a saline breeze his mind cleared, and he began treating it all as just another little illness. Like a cold, he said, knowing full well it wasn’t! Sailing up the River Thames, he announced to his wife his choice of the medical directions offered. Later, after mooring off Gravesend, both cried together.
Ardley’s treatment overlapped the COVID-19 pandemic. Fortunately, the serious stuff was done and dusted. The pandemic brought new trials. The couple were frighteningly threatened by a fellow yachtsman who disliked an Ardley web blog … the horror of that summer has remained fresh.
Throughout the telling of Ardley’s tales, his story, sailing with family and friends, country walking and living life, he has maintained a normality. Perhaps a familiar story, but it comes with a warning: Men, get yourselves tested before it’s too late!
This project has seemingly just meandered atrociously from one edit to the next at a pace that can only be described as snail-like.
I have reached ‘final edit’ so many times, I’ve almost approached despair. The edit was returned some while ago, corrected, I was told, but absolutely nothing had actually been done. There were only a half dozen or so items … I had a major rant at editorial.
Recently, I received the document for checking with all cover work done. It had to be signed off that day to reach a publishing date in September. I sent a letter back apologising, but I could not deal with at a moments notice, late on an afternoon.
Part view of cover.
I sent everything off in just three days … that was a month and half ago!
I have been informed that the errors have been dealt with but QA found some anomalies (I had spotted one or two and told them, and they’re the experts and should not have been present…).
When, a complete check has been made, I will be sent all for reviewing and signing off. Publishing happens within two months of that point.
The end result though will be a well honed book, with much interest for a varied cross section of people…
It will also carry a very important message to men.
Update:
Well, I never, the files finally arrive back in my email box, however, only one out of six deficiencies had been done.
I ‘exploded’ verbally, to the editorial contact. Amazingly it came back within a day, corrected, with a qualifier that the editorial coordinator had personally checked – what blazes are they for…
I have now signed it off. A publishing date will soon be known, plus advertising details.
I have visited the Nottage Institute once before. It was some years ago when sailing with my sister and two other friends as crew. We’d come up on the tide for some stores.
We enjoyed an early morning sail up to Wivenhoe on the last of the flood and managed to get into one of the two moorings kept for visitors by the Wivenhoe Sailing Club – a generous act: no charge is made. They also provide a card to access showers…
Sailing up to Wivenhoe on the last of the early flood.
Passing, Christobel spotted a sign for an art exhibition upstairs, so in we went. The works were by local artists.
Part of the display.
For me though, the real art was below in the boat shed where I could see a number of dinghies under construction.
Looking into the shed before it opened to visitors…
The Nottage Institute was set up as an education base by a Captain Charles Nottage in 1896 for fisher folk and ‘Colnesiders’. In time it spread its wings into educating men and women in boat crafts such as boat building (dinghies) and navigation learning. It is now an affiliated RYA training centre.
A dinghy nears completion while beyond another is in early stags of planking.
All the dinghies being built are by amateurs under the guidance of a tutor boatbuilder. The workmanship, even to my untrained eyes, looked to be very good.
Planking up nears completionThe standard of riveting over the nail roves was acceptable – there were a few that would catch a stocking…
The dinghy below has reached the fitting out stage. The rubbing band and internal stringer which will support the thwarts are fitted. A centre plate case is under construction – a multi-purpose dinghy which can be sailed makes a classic tender or a boat for enjoyment.
Fitting out a fully planked hull.
Look closely at the illustration below to see how well the plank ends fit to the transom.
Another plank has been clamped into place. The planking appears to be larch.
Below is a dinghy in the early stages of planking. Note the moulds over which the planks will follow. The fore and aft edges have been rebated to take the next plank overlap.
Early stage of planking, with garboard and next fitted.
My final illustration is of a a dinghy that looks like a dinghy I once pursued myself. Ca’t remember the designers name but they are light-weight and strong.
My simulated clinker GRP dinghy is great but quite heavy – it has stood the test of time though for she is thirty this autumn!
A light-weight plywood and epoxy built hull.
The plywood and epoxy method of construction allows the builder to dispense with the internal transverse ribs for the epoxy fillet that seals and fills the planking runs acts as longitudinal ribs. Some internal transverse timbers will be fitted though to support floor boards and such.
A centre plate slot was evident in keel timber of this little boat.
Yes, I enjoyed my walk round the little ‘boat shed’ and too the paintings upstairs where the walls are decorated by hundreds of half models of vessels built at the village’s sizeable shipyard until it closed in early 1980’s.
For more information about the institute visit their web site.
We have had a couple of visits to Maldon by water so far this summer, but on our last, we berthed at the mud marina and yard which is part of the Marine Store empire.
There is a relatively decent loo and shower facility available and a very friendly and helpful team ashore..
I soon spotted an abundance of wooden craft here and quickly introduced myself to a neighbour who had taken the stern line. But it was Whimbrel that ‘trembled’for she was in seventh heaven among so much wood…
A rare Johnson & Jago 1934 4 1/2 ton cutter.
Berthed beside us was a rare little pocket cruiser from the past. A Johnson & Jago 4 1/2-tonner (Thames measure) dating, the owner told me, from around 1934. She was found propped up at the back of the yard in a forlorn state. The chap has owned wooden boats going back down the decades and he decided, like himself, there was a life to live…
The hull, he said, was in good condition being of pitch pine and with a couple of years work, she was back afloat… Toe rails and rubbing bands were renewed.
A Deben 4 tonner
On one of the tides, I spotted a very similar boat from the same era – this though was built in large numbers up in Suffolk. The Deben 4-tonner.
These designs were produced in a couple of sizes to suit the pocket of the ‘average man’ giving opportunity to get afloat for around the same price as a little car. They were nicknamed ‘pocket cruisers’ and served well.
The Blackwater Sloop was another of the pocket cruisers, built up river from this yard by Dan Webb & Feasey whose old yard buildings are now offices. The tiny docks still sit along the water’s edge…
Whimbrel gazes at a host of wooded buttocks…
I ambled around the yard and its pontoons looking at well kept boats and some not so well preserved.
Most I just haven’t a clue as to their class or build. They were all different and caught the eye – something plastic hardly ever does.
A well kept Folk boat.A pretty sloop – has the look of a ‘grown-u’ Deben class or similar.A raised fore-deck sloop which does away with a cabin side/roof structure. Headroom would remain limited…
This one below particularly caught the eye for she has a grandeur of a much larger yacht. The reverse shear is sweet and aligned with the small cabin structure – almost dog-house-like – she is uncluttered.
A sweet reverse shear sloop.
I then back tracked to look under the covers of a few and at this one below. She has the look of a Hilyard ketch, however, her bright work has all but disintegrated to bare wood.
A sad but fine looking ketch falling gradually into disrepair?Another raised deck sloop of similar but different design to previous.
At the outer end of one pontoon was an old naval dockyard TSD. These vessels have all but disappeared. They were resident at every dockyard or naval base used by the Royal Navy and probably predate the second world war. They were diagonal planked – in teak, I believe, and had substantial scantlings and outer protective ribbands.
They were used for ferry purpose in the main but could be utilised a storing vessels too. Years ago, when on a Royal Fleet Auxiliary vessel berthed in Mombasa, there were examples of these craft still in use.
An old naval work horse (TSD).
The one seen above seemed to be sound, but is in dire need of a ‘paint job’ soon…
Then I alighted on this little ‘model’ barge, built once heard, of plywood. I saw her out many years ago with two chaps aboard going down past the Hythe. It looked odd for she is little bigger than a large day boat.
A ‘model’ barge (yacht) – she’s called Hope. The last time I saw her she was rigged. She’s seemingly in or had a refit…
So, yes, our Whimbrel has been in cahoots with many wooden sisters…
Of course, Leigh Ray a pen name and it is widely thought to be the lead author of ‘Swin, Swale & Swatchway’, Herbert Lewis Jones, actually co-written with Charles Barrett Lockwood.
The book’s aged cover.
Ray Leigh, as many old sailing hands will know, often wrote articles for early issues of Yachting Monthly magazine.
Second edition from before 1900.
Interestingly if one does a search of the two men, their medical biographies pop up but little else. In Jones’s case, sailing is mentioned as a hobby having been brought u o the banks of the River Medway. Lockwood’s biog n the other hand contains absolutely no mention of sailing… Both were doctors of some repute and died during the early years of the 1st World War.
The book was recommended by a sailing friend and I added it to a list which the mate uses for those yearly special days, and yes, it was in my birthday bag during June!
The Teal on the Leigh Flats.
The book begins in a normal enough sort of way. The Teal’s owner gathers together a friend who often sailed aboard and his younger brother. The owner has just completed his finals to become a doctor.
Embarking aboard the Teal they set off on an east coast cruise taking in the River Medway, Havengore, Burnham, The Rays’n to Maldon then up to Harwich.
On the River Medway they cut through ‘marsh islands from ‘Sharpfleet’ Creek to investigate the oyster fishery in Sharpness Creek – now just an inlet.
Yes, oysters on the Medway. Sharpness Creek is just an inlet now.
From Harwich, the Teal then sets off, ostensibly to go either to the Deben or the Ore.
Mistley Quay visited o the cruise.
I went back several times to try and find the reason for their’ change of plan, to no avail – I clearly missed something!
The wind gets up and they are well clear of land.
A burning sailng ship is spotted> they sail closer, close enough to see that she is unmanned. Two masts are down and they see the foremast tumble, sails ablaze…
The stricken ship?
The wind increases. The compass is broken. A full gale rages … an old sail is cut up to make a cockpit well screen and sea anchor. The story has apparently gone past he ‘informative narrative’ to pure hokum…
They are driven before the gale. The skipper was using his watch to get a kind of directional drift – it gets broken…
This goes on for what seems like days. They realise that their drift has not been as expected: they would have been cast p on an east coast shore long before!
Surf is heard. The lead is cast. Nothing. Fifteen fathom. Less. Then less again. Then more, but calmer, until an unseen sheer cliff gives protection.
The anchor is pitched over…
There seems to be around 25% of book exploring the cove they find themselves trapped within. A huge sailing ship wreck dominates one shore. The cove disappears into the cliff, literally, in a stream in a cave.
Making an attempt to get out of the cove, they lose anchors and are swept back, into the cave and find themselves hurtling on the ‘flood tide’ deeper inside the rock. The rock they had already discovered to be salt rock…
Sketch map of where the Teal ended up after the storm…
An amazing ‘slalom ride’ ensues, the water turning from salt to ‘fresh’. Masts are cut away … the Teal is all but wrecked and finally they beach. Their dinghy takes them out, eventually, into fresh air.
Finally, the dinghy could float no more. They set off walking living off the land and find a village. The tongue is alien to all three educated young men.
I’ve had enough …
From the village they are sent by various means of transport to Trieste and a ship home!!!
Now, anyone with a modicum of geography knows that for them to have ‘come ashore’ with Trieste as a port of releases must wonder how they got into the Baltic: that is what I perceive.I finished the book, but blimey, it was gung ho ‘boys own’ stuff.
There are some superb black and white illustrations in the first half, but after ‘the ship’ there are none. The story line says there weren’t anymore for equipment was damaged. A batch of plates were boxed and sent ashore at Harwich, apparently…
Did I enjoy it?
Well, yes. It wasn’t as expected and would make a good read for most people…
Thank you for the recommendation, John, and to my mate for its ‘expensive’ purchase…
During last autumn, I came across a book about the ‘lost’ route to Portsmouth from the R. Thames.
The Wey and Arun navigations formed the backbone of this route from the ‘east and west’ respectively (although it was almost north-south). The route was effectively closed around the time of the trip made and problems were encountered. Sections remain navigable today, but the central link has been lost.
I then alighted on a short tale by J B Dashwood in which the chap describes a holiday cruise from the River Thames along the ‘lost’ route to the sea via the River Arun, then a coast passage to home on the Solent shores…
The book is a reprint edition.
The reprint cover.
The book was first published in 1865, at the insistence of Dashwood’s friends!
The original title page.
It is striking for one major reason: his mate for the trip is his wife who seems to have been of hardy stuff.
Their craft is a Una-rigged sailing canoe. It was built for sailing the upper reaches of the Thames and for sheltered coastal hops.
Towards the end of the book, Dashwood describes the trip round Selsey Bill and another covers her suitability for coastal waters and alterations made.
The Caprice in full flow…
The Dashwood’s hired a pony to tow the boat and a canal man to manage the towing. That did not mean the holiday couple sat back. No, they played their parts fully.
The nights were spent at wayside inns along the route.
An author sketch of working the towing pony.
For me, I just loved the way the journey is described. The wild-life, fauna and his little injections of local history. Diversions, on foot, to ruins or the many large houses. It was so reminiscent of many of my own books.
Completing the journey with the Dashwood’s, I dearly wanted to stop and chat to them…
A lovely read. If you can find a copy, I thoroughly recommend it.
Some weeks before the early days of August 1983 we had cycled from Canvey Island, up Benfleet Hill and along a leafy lane cutting through extensive woodland to the yard of A F Platt Ltd, based in its own woodland paradise on the Daws Heath/Hadleigh border.
Our son did the trip too, at a little over a year old he was snuggled up to mum in a baby carrier!
The story is told about at the beginning of a large chapter in my book, The Jottings of a Thames Estuary Ditch-crawler which is available from bookshops on line, where I detail the Alan Platt boat yard story.
Our visit was to cast a serious look at several boats that were currently in the Platt’s yard. There were three Finesse 24s in for various reasons among a couple of 21s too. It was only the ‘24’ we were interested in.
Our first boat, a Yachting World People’s Boat, was on the market and we felt she was about to be sold away to the Burnham river. The signs were very promising…
Although we had viewed these lovely twenty-four footers afloat while sailing, it all depended on whether the mate was happy with what she saw…
There were just three tick boxes!
Standing head room.
A flushing loo.
Decent auxiliary engine.
Front of sakes sheet.
We also studied the sales sheets and discussed our possible requirements with both Alan and Shirley Platt.
Back of sales sheet giving build details.
We went away with a plethora of details a whirl in our heads. Back home we made plans, we couldn’t avoid it: we were truly smitten.
We even had the un-ordered boat’s name ready…
The letter of 8th August 1983.
So we did it!
We had a whole list of ‘extras’ as they are known in the ship and boat building world. The major of these was upgrading to a two-cylinder engine, a Yanmar 2GM, from the basic one-cylinder model. The unit lasted us until 2011 when we again upgraded to a fresh water cooled Yanmar 2YM.
The build and additional costs to suit our requirements.
More letters were to follow…
Clinching a marine mortgage, laying of the keel – a major, planking up etc…
Sadly, I was soon back at sea on a ship pootling around Caribbean waters working with an EU and USA fleet of warships on drug patrols, so consequently, I did not see any of the build processes – this was all left to co-owner, Christobel, the mate who wrote enthusiastically about her visits to view ‘chunks’ of wood…
Whimbrel at the Blackwater Marina in July 2023 looking as good as the day she was launched.
My first view was of the completed boat at the end of March 1984, sitting ready for launching. One of our requirements discussed prior to my return to sea…
The ship’s good mate insists on there being another person in our long marriage – yes, she alludes to a mistress – but as I always point out, it is Christobel’s name on the ship’s papers!
However, more of that as the ‘build’progresses…
So, if ‘Ownership’ can be dated to the date of our order, yes, it is a day to celebrate with a huge dose of pride in a little ship that has served us well.
Thank you Alan, Shirley and all who worked on her.
After much thought we have at last made the break with the Island Yacht Club, Canvey Island.
An incident over the Bank Holiday weekend in August 2019 is at the root of this decision, which I will publicly discuss further down, but has been further driven by other more recent events.
The final straw came after we submitted a complaint about the way club members/visitors treated ‘us’ whilst Whimbrel was under going her fortieth anniversary refit.
Vehicles were being driven fast past boat by around 25% of drivers with no regard for the dust and debris being showered over varnish or paint being applied. Cones and a sign were routinely ignored…
We jointly made a complaint about this with a few specific cases and the club’s response was to call just me in to a session in front of the flag officers to explain ourselves.
Just what needed to be explained?
No where was there an apology and let’s talk about this. Just a straight in and be whipped demand.
Now, the leaders of this club are the very same people who assaulted’ us back in 2019 and since the end of that affair, they have been looking for a way to get revenge.
So, we decided enough was enough and have departed.
Some while ago I wrote about life in a marsh-land yacht club and how ‘we’ looked after our moorings and club infra-structure.
A copy of the Yachting Monthly article.
There pervades at the club I have departed from, like many organisations oft heard in the news media, a problem with institutional bullying. It is led by people who still ‘live in the school playground’ and if one is not ‘in the set’ life can be precarious. These people have broken the club and made it a toxic and an uncomfortable place to be part of.
In that respect, both Christobel and I have, since the infamous RIB incident, been circumspect with lodging any official complaint about anything, which in itself has been a travesty: the bully won.
Whimbrel on the IYC slip in her early life. The slipway was later widened – I drew up the drawing (later digitised) for retrospective planning.
The RIB incident if 30 August 2019 will be documented in the files of the Port of London Authority. These are probably available if one wanted access – freedom of information.
It was over the bank holiday and an open cat event was being hosted by the Island YC.
So, the incident which has lived with me, in particular:
Christobel and I were making Whimbrel ready to depart our mooring to represent the Finesse class and club at Queenborough’s classic festival.
A club RIB (Furtherwick) came up the creek leaving a giant wash crashing through the moorings. I was on our fore deck clearing mooring lines. Although still aground, the boat lifted and surfed against her springs.
Meanwhile Christobel had called out, ‘Slow down.’ She was responded to with a single finger salute, which as most know, means: tickle your c—t or up your c—t. She was extremely upset.
We called the club’s commodore who said he was on way to club and would deal with.
We departed.
Nearing the outer creek, we rounded into the breeze (sw3) clear of the buoyed channel to hoist the mainsail. The boom was loosened ready. I was about to hoist when I spotted the same RIB exiting the club’s moorings.
It left the buoyed channel and came straight at us across the shallows increasing to a ‘displacement speed’ resulting in a huge wash. Christobel held her course with engine on tick-over.
I shouted ‘watch out’ and flung my arms around the slating boom as the RIB roared down our port side done 2-4 m off.
The boat dropped and then went ballistic with violent rolls back and forth. I felt the boat hit bottom.
I held on. I do not remember how I stayed aboard, but wished afterwards I’d gone overboard: it would have made what followed, easier…
Christobel was thrown across the cockpit, all but incapacitated in the corner. She eventually picked herself up and got the boat back under control.
I received wrenched leg and arm joints and Christobel a raft of bruises.
The RIB sped away rounding Canvey Point where a few cats were tuning up, then off east where others were doing the same… no one seemed to be in trouble.
Once under sail we made a further call to the club’s commodore – he fully understood the situation for I was shaking badly as I talked. Again, we got, I’ll sort it. That was the last I heard from him.
In the end after around two weeks, I filled in a Port of London incident report.
The proverbial hit the fan.
The upshot was that the perpetrators manufactured a defence (they got times wrong) and forced all discussion out of club minutes.
The outcome from the Port of London was that the club was reprimanded and reminded of how they operated etc, etc, and the driver was given a written warning. (All of this is held on file)
Whilst this sage was ongoing, I was coping with a huge lack of energy after completing radio therapy a couple months earlier and was on a programme of tablet chemo medication for prostate cancer.
The ‘three’ and cohorts didn’t give a stuff about that…
Early in the saga’s follow up, I had a call on my mobile from the chief perpetrator at around 2000 one evening. I asked where number had been obtained – commodore was the reply. I terminated the call.
On file with all paperwork of case, is an email from club’s vice commodore of time, stating that the phone incident broke club rules and national law regarding passing information.
I said it would be reported to authorities unless an apology was received. Time went by – nil response.
Towards the end of the year, a committee meeting was due and I had a call from our son relaying a message from a fellow committee member that ‘the three’ were engineering an ‘instant dismissal’ from club action against us both … unless we withdrew … because we were threatening a member…
After some thought, and with my energy problems, we wrote, saying due to my lack of energy and my mental ability coping with cancer that we weren’t able to continue … it was apparently accepted.
But, as we later found out, blood was wanting to be spilled.
For us though it wasn’t the end: whenever anything untoward occurred, I suffered from night-time ‘reliving’ of events returned with them cycling round and round with growing anxiety.
So, as said, over last few years we kept our heads low…
The pictures within the blog show a flash of our forty-years as Island YC members.
Collecting club silver ware during better days
We raced with success for a decade or so. I was a work party member for thirty-three years and Christobel for a decade since retiring from teaching.
Christobel ensconced beneath Whimbrel’s bottom applying antifouling around 1990.
The projects, personal and joint/team, have been numerous. I looked after the creek buoys for twelve years or so. There was walling and concreting the edges of slipway, doubling its width.
Returning to our berth held and maintained for thirty-three years, probably again around 1990.
During Covid, as we were a ‘bubble couple’ we replaced hundreds of walkway boards.
Carrying out walkway maintenance.
During the early 1990s the club’s compound was extended over rough infilled land, with layers of crushed building refuse and street asphalt scrapings. We were both part of a small team doing this midweek.
Christobel working in the ‘below gang’ during 2022.
Laying of water and electricity around the extended yard…
Water services round the walkways was laid on…
Another Saturday afternoon washing machine load
Not forgetting, years and years of mooring and walkway repairs/renewals.
Boat launching with what became No.2 rig. The rig was originally fitted with chain blocks, needing four bodies. It was converted to hydraulic lifting which was initially messed up. I took on the project and had it all stripped by contractor, cleaned, reassembled and tested to statutory requirements. The only time I ever received a formal thank you…
Sometimes it was very a very muddy experience enjoying ourselves in this marsh-land yacht club…
Sometimes it is a very muddy form of enjoyment…
There were good moments afloat too. Early morning winter sails. Later winter afternoon arrivals back after a gentle potter.
Creeping back into Smallgains Creek after an afternoon sail,
Taking a cue from an ‘old boy’ now long departed, did I need one after being brought up afloat, I made visits to the boat’s mooring to check during high tides – checking and saving many another boat too at the same time.
A high tide … on mooring watch. Many a time trouble with members boats has been avoided by direct action!.
During the last few years following the RIB incident, the mood within the club changed for the worse. Actions of the club’s hierarchy was causing angst – certainly among the club’s do-ers of the working parties – and the atmosphere was becoming toxic.
It was becoming ‘not a nice place to be’ and I silently began looking for alternatives, should that day dawn.
During Covid, Christobel and I worked as a cohesive team replacing hundreds of walkway planks. Often almost being ‘kicked aside’ by other members frustrated at having to wait. One chap said, during the period, ‘without people like you, we’d struggle to get to our boats…’
So, following the lodging of our complaint while away for a week at the end of June we decided to throw in the towel and make the final break.
Once our resignation letter had been sent, my anxiety cycles began to wain and a resemblance of a normal sleep pattern returned. Praise be.
Now we are gone!
Our open letter to the club’s members is unlikely to be honoured, but it is gradually making its way around via various routes from people who have supported us.
So, below is our letter. We don’t care who reads it: the hierarchy of the Island Yacht Club do not deserve any reserve…
First page of my open letter to members, which….Second page of letter…
A third page was directly to the Island Yacht Club committee and remains private.
So, farewell friends.
Some of you we will see afloat from time to time, others, well, we will both miss you. You gave us so much whilst members of a job, project, or just nattering over a piece of cake at tea time…
Thank you to all who we have been honoured to work with.
But seriously, this is a boat that had everything going for her. She is in a bit of a state now, but could be refurbished with a little time and effort.
In just four weeks my mate and I completed a 40 year refurbishment to Whimbrel’s brightwork. All it takes is applied time and effort. Taking back to bare is something not done before, boy has it been a worthwhile exercise.
Our Finesse 24 Whimbrel built in 1983-4 ready for the water after four weeks ashore to strip varnish to bare and build requisite number of new coats. Hull was dished and overcoated, as well as bottom doing, of course..
