February's Fast Cruise from Ronhilda

LSC February Fast Cruise 2011
A View from the Blue
An early start this time for those based east of the Forts. A blustery night in Chichester Marina with torrential downpours hammering on the coachroof meant the crew of ‘Ronhilda’ woke somewhat bleary-eyed at 06.00 hrs. After a cold and wet trek to the temporary portacabins for a shower (the heads are being rebuilt and will rival Berthon at Lymington when finished – apparently spring 2011 but you know builders’ deadlines) we set off at 07.30 to lock out. There we were hailed by ‘Arvika’, asking to enter the lock with us. The passing thought occurred that, if we declined, Ronhilda might get a head start over them for a change! The combined length and beam of both boats meant it was a tight squeeze, but we cleared without mishap. Bacon butties were cooked on both boats during the one hour haul up to Chichester Bar.

If Juno and others had a leisurely troll down to the start line, which for a change had been set mid-Solent to avoid the shipping lanes, those coming from the east faced a stiff NW wind on the nose and an increasingly adverse tide for a hard beat to windward. After a lumpy ride to the Forts due to the Channel swell from the previous night, we hoisted reefed main and tacked over to Gilkicker where we joined ‘Storm Petrel’ who were under motor in a dash to the start at N E Ryde Middle. What was that about killing the engine 5 minutes before the start?

Down to Motherbank, back up to Browndown and getting the size of the tidal strength, then a zig-zag beat up to E Bramble, where we were stymied by a small tanker coming up the North Channel so could not cross without easing off. A cheery wave from ‘Willow’ as our paths crossed. The wind started to reduce. On the far shore, Osborne House was bathed in sunlight, glowing gold between the gap in the trees. A well-timed cup of soup and two hot sausage rolls each, and the crew’s early morning question “Remind me, why are we doing this?” was being answered. After all, even though we had already been out for over 4 hours we had a good breeze, it wasn’t too cold, and no rain.

After crossing south to the Island and rounding Peel Bank, most had trouble making the inside line to Norris, so lots of tacking ensued. The light blue hull of ‘Oxygen’ and the dark blue of ‘Shearwater’ were but small pinpricks on the horizon. We could see ‘Day at the Races’ some way ahead crossing just east of the Bramble taking a northerly route towards Hill Head. It was tempting, but we were only a couple of hours after low water, and our line was more westerly than hers. Like ‘Juno’ and others, after exploring the edge of the Bramble we tacked back towards Cowes to find the tide was not as bad as feared and the wind steady, then out again to cross the main channel from West Knoll to Bourne Gap.

We had some trouble spotting Lepe Spit cardinal, and were a mile short when we also saw with alarm the immense black wall approaching from Lymington. After a quick shout from your correspondent on the helm to the skipper down below, we just managed to get the main reefed down before the squall hit us at 14.02 hrs, but the genny jammed while furling and we backed it. A short struggle in stinging hail, and the situation was under control. Visibility had closed down completely but a couple of boat-lengths behind us we could just see ‘Storm Petrel’ rounding up violently before reefing down. We heard later that ‘Pagan’ had been hard pressed but came through – with John Clarkson still wearing just his tee-shirt! Well that was his story. We trust he had some shorts on as well.

As soon as it started, it was all over. After letting canvas out again we enjoyed a lively and sunny sail south, then westwards down to Salt Mead. There we watched ‘Day at the Races’ head off resolutely towards Yarmouth, wondering if Barrie & co had misread the dinner instructions? Or maybe they had planned a leisurely pint in The George and then back to the finish to trounce us all? Or the perhaps there was another boat with a red hull out there? About 1.5 miles down towards Newtown Creek they turned to lay West Lepe comfortably on one tack. A strong tide and a failing wind meant a quick tack was necessary for Ronhilda before the buoy could be rounded.

Oops – someone had stolen the finish mark! Ronhilda ploughed on to the revised finish back at Lepe Spit. There was some doubt that everyone had received the text message, or perhaps some boats concluded the notional GPS position of Raymarine was enough. However, on the way back to Beaulieu entrance we met ‘Pagan’ still tramping the other way so can confirm she was not one of them – as if! We should return to a suitable VHF routine to enable everyone to hear the course amendments. Most of us turn off our mobiles, both to conserve the battery and also because the joy of being out in the elements is ruined by instant contact from the boss by text or email. Fortunately or otherwise, I sail with the boss so instant contact is inevitable.

Up the Beaulieu River to Gin’s Farm on a glorious crisp evening. Then a quick change for some to powder their armpits and get over from the floating pontoon to Gin’s clubhouse and watch the Rugby International. For the remainder, a bottle of rough but honest red with some cheese, followed by a snooze. Now Graham mentions it, we did notice the club’s ferryman had a moustache that bore a striking resemblance to Barrie Martin’s – obviously to reduce costs the RSYC keeps it in the family by employing his brother.

A few satisfying beers were enjoyed while watching England play France. In a packed room of England supporters there were veiled technical comments from a minority from north of the border, sensibly sotto voce. The Auld Alliance is hard to forget. Our honorary Dutch contingent was there. If Alja kept out of the fray, Gabe had the good diplomacy to sport an England rugby shirt – albeit with an Orange one underneath next to his skin.

What a missed opportunity. No, not the rugby – we wopped the cheese-eating surrender monkeys! As usual when two or more Fast Cruisers are gathered together, discussion turned to the mysteries of the LSC handicapping system. We sat next to Kiwi John while he was supposedly entering the results into his laptop, but also discussing what moves a prop can perform with a good hooker - in the scrum, naturally. A couple of pints of the RSYC special extra heavy guest ale (Scruttock’s Old Peculiar Nadger Basher 6XXL – specific gravity usually downwards) failed to influence Ronhilda’s corrected time, and elicited a long and technical explanation of IRC v. other systems. After five minutes the eyes started to glaze over and the desire for more alcohol became pressing. So there was considerable temptation when he visited the heads to add a random-number formula to the spreadsheet. Or some handy computer virus such as an accidently spilt beer?

After a short round of musical chairs (thanks to Graham and Jill for sorting it all out) we enjoyed a most convivial dinner. We had an highly intellectual conversation with our colleagues on ‘Grey Goose’. We think it was about the ageing process but can’t remember. Brian Humber and Keith Irons discovered a mutual if murky past, regaling us with tales of misspent youth in the merchant marine serving as rookie crew on tankers for the same well-known international oil company whose H&S record is clearly still second to many. They recalled exotic seas and shared memories of considerably less salubrious ports (was she in Hartlepool or India?) and the technical merits of the 15,000 tonner. Rust was so prevalent that the vessels were actually a hundred thousand rivets sailing in formation which, if subjected to anything over a Force 5, would pop allowing the cargo to squirt out. When the bridge telegraph didn’t work and the local pilot demanded a change in speed, a scribbled note was lowered surreptitiously to the engine-room on a long string so he wouldn’t report to the authorities that the vessel was defective and should be detained. Happy days - allegedly things aren’t what they used to be.

Barrie, as our local host, made a short welcoming speech on behalf of other dual LSC/RSYC members present, including Tim Bizzey of ‘Storm Petrel’, and Hunter Peace and Keith Irons who were supporting although not sailing. His special Beaulieu rally ‘marmalade’ cup (the Trades Description Act requires us to qualify that it was just a jar not a real pot) was presented on the say-so of John’s manipulated spreadsheet calc, which logarithmically factors speed and beauty against displacement and waterline length. On at least the first two counts, all but one of Ronhilda’s crew was ruled out. Avril Ormsby graciously accepted on behalf of ‘Shearwater’. Clearly nobody had told her or Andy what Barrie keeps in his bilges, since most of us don’t believe his story that the thick brown stuff is actually made from oranges.

A few more drinks then we were ferried back to the floating pontoon by another of Barrie’s brothers – they really are the Marx Brothers. In the dark a few party-goers had a slightly lengthier detour than anticipated and thanks must also go Bill Lewis and crew of ‘Musyk’ for their assistance. A quiet night was finally had on the river, save for the gentle tinkling of halyards, the sound of marsh dabblers, pewits, mud waders, spoonbills, lesser spotted dwarf conifers etc (don’t ask me, I’m a member of the LSC not the RSPB) and the tinkling and pumping of heads. We were up early as Ronhilda set off from Gin’s before 09.00 hrs to make the tidal gate at Chichester, and had a lovely downhill run in sunshine and a westerly breeze, until one hour out from Chichester when it rained heavily for the rest of the trip.

Thanks again to Graham for organizing a great rally and some sort of record for this time of year, with 12 boats attending and so many members, some arriving by land.