Some years ago, having fortuitously acquired a vintage sailing dinghy, I was granted the opportunity to pursue a hobby I had wanted to try ever since my Dad had taken me sailing as a land-lubbing adolescent. Now, older and slightly wiser, I have settled into a period of semi-retirement from the sport, due in equal part to me actually coming to my senses and the explosion of the vehicle employed to tow my boat. Nonetheless, creatively fuelled at the time by a rather disturbing personal life perhaps more usually associated with that of the inhabitants of Pluto, I was sufficiently inspired by my nautical experiences to come up with the following creation. To spare you the ordeal, I have included only excerpts from the full manual, which, actually, was the first thing I ever wrote, so bear that in mind, ok? In the meantime, read on, and discover how to be bad at sailing...
......It is the object of this manual to introduce the beginner to the fundamentals of sailing, and also to be of some use to the novice, as other important areas are explored. These include: How to fall overboard without looking silly, avoiding potentially violent arguments with other water users, how not to upset your crew by yelling obscenities at them, and of course, how to survive a week-long fishing trip with the in-laws.
The most common mistake made by the inexperienced sailor is to eagerly leap aboard their launch without first planning thoroughly the task that lies ahead. In fact, eagerly leaping aboard one’s launch can prove a big mistake at any time, especially if she isn’t properly tied to the jetty. Such incidents invariably end in doing the splits, and quite often a trip to hospital.
What sort of boat?
The first question to be asked is “What do I want my boat for?” A silly question you might say, but it is a fact that some boat owners never intend to launch their boat into the water, choosing instead to park it on their driveway just to look at, or sit next to.
Let us say then, that the owner of this manual is thinking about day sailing; that is, a nice leisurely trip on either inland or coastal waters involving a return home the same day. It should be pointed out at this stage that although this will technically be the case, it always seems to take ages putting everything away, and there is never time when you get home for things like having your tea, or watching telly. Clearly for us then, there is no point in buying a small child’s inflatable dinghy, nor is there any reason to own a 4-berth 25-foot cruiser, although this would dramatically improve our popularity. If this were solely our aim, a gleaming catamaran would certainly be the best choice. The boat for us should be a 12 or 14-foot dinghy: easy to transport and launch single-handed, but with the potential to be entered in a race one day, whether deliberately, or by taking a wrong turn.
What shall I wear?
The question of what clothing to buy before we go sailing is very important, and can sometimes mean the difference between life and death. Our keen young yachtsman would certainly die a death if he or she walked into a packed sailing club bar looking like something from “The Thing from 50,000 Fathoms.” Likewise, turning up wearing freshly pressed chinos pulled to the nipple would also get big laughs. Image is not our only consideration, however. Apart from keeping us warm and dry, our clothing should always be a nice colour; the brighter the better. Not only does this make us more visible in the event of falling overboard, it also helps when trying to avoid tripping over somebody who is sprawled unconscious on the deck having been struck by the boom.
What to take with you
Again, preparation is the key. As budding sailors we must learn to be as organised as possible, and to always watch other more experienced crews to see how they go about arranging their decks, learning from any mistakes we see them make. Don’t be afraid to make up lists of even the most basic requirements. Take the example of the famous Americas Cup contestant, Ralph F. Peasbody, renowned for his endless lists and obsessive drive for perfection. He had travelled 4,000 miles to get to the start of the great race, when on his arrival, although he had remembered everything on his list of things to bring, he realised he had forgotten his boat, which sat 4,000 miles away on his driveway. It said much of his skill at the helm, not to mention the hapless navigational skills of his rivals, that he still managed to finish third, even having returned home to get his boat.
As a rough guide to help with our preparations, there follows three lists detailing all manner of nautical equipment, divided into different priorities:
HIGH PRIORITY:
Boat, Mast & Rigging, Sails, Rudder, Tiller, Paddle, Lifejackets, Cool-box full of beer
MEDIUM PRIORITY:
Spare clothing, Compass & Charts, Spare ropes, Tool kit, Enormous packed lunch, Flip-flops
LOW PRIORITY:
Wife, Mobile Phone, Air rifle, Pets, Shaving equipment, Television set, Ear-muffs
These lists are by no means exhaustive; as you become more experienced you will soon add your own essentials. A note on spare clothing: Dry clothes can be a godsend at the end of a hard day’s sailing, but it can also be very useful to take a set of wet clothes with you too. A skipper emerging from his vessel at the shore sporting dripping wet attire will always get the sympathy vote from any onlookers. This can easily turn into a welcome set of helping hands dragging your boat onto its trailer (a virtually impossible task, covered in a later chapter), or at the very least, a free drink at the club bar later.
Sailing jargon explained…
Before we begin to discuss the practicalities of rigging and launching our boat, we must first familiarise ourselves with the terms used to communicate commands from skipper to crew, and vice versa. It would be pointless, and indeed potentially dangerous, if commands were misunderstood. For example, on the skipper’s call of “We’re sailing by the lee!” the crew should not all suddenly launch themselves overboard and start swimming frantically towards the shore. Nor should they start dancing round on the foredeck, singing “A Sailor’s Life for Me.”
The following is a brief list of commands followed by their meanings, and the appropriate response from the crew:
COMMAND: "Ready about?"
MEANING: Prepare to tack
RESPONSE: "Aye!"
COMMAND: "Lee-Ho!"
MEANING: We're tacking
RESPONSE: (Just concentrate on what you're doing in case you get shouted at)
COMMAND: "Stand by to gybe!"
MEANING: Prepare to gybe
RESPONSE: "Aye!" (Hold onto something, as this may well go wrong)
COMMAND: "We're running by the lee!"
MEANING: Watch out in case the wind flips the boom around
RESPONSE: "Aye-aye!" (Take evasive action immediately - safest place below the foredeck)
COMMAND: "Watch that burgee!"
MEANING: Look up at the flag atop the mast, you're not steering properly
RESPONSE: "Look, who's steering this damn thing, me or you?"
COMMAND: "Run the mainsheet, run the mainsheet...!"
MEANING: Let go of the mainsail immediately, you're about to bloody capsize us
RESPONSE: "I didn't want to steer anyway, you made me! I knew I should've played golf instead."
Okay, so we’ve planned our sail down to the tiniest detail and are now familiar with some of the commands we might expect to hear on board our boat. It’s now time to learn how to rig our boat, that is, to put up (step) the mast and sails, along with all the hundreds of fiddly bits and pieces we need to attach/arrange/coil up/fasten down/throw in the back of the car/generally sort out before we set sail.
Any captain worth his salt is always on the lookout for ways of avoiding any hard work so he can concentrate on more important skipper-type activities such as chatting to bikini-clad sunbathers, or strutting up and down the jetty admiring his reflection in the water. The procedure of stepping the mast is certainly worth avoiding, as it can easily turn into an embarrassing calamity when the inadequately controlled mast topples over, sending innocent bystanders scurrying for cover with their hands in the air. At times like these, the captain can turn to his well-rehearsed repertoire of prepared excuses to retreat to safety. Among the most widely used are: “I think I might have left the car unlocked,” or “Damn, I’ve left my sandwiches on the kitchen table,” or “Is that Larry Wiseman over there?” or, the ever-reliable “I’ve just remembered, I forgot to let the dog out for a piss.”
Now we have our boat rigged and ready for launching, it is a good time to have one last check around to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Many a time has a boat taken to the water without some vital part having been properly fixed. Imagine the embarrassment if, on letting fly our spinnaker, it took off into the air and flew into the distance because someone had forgotten to clip it to the halyard? Even worse, there are few more dangerous mistakes to make than disappearing from the jetty with a boat full of rowdy crew tanked-up on lager, without having first kissed your wife goodbye and promised you’ll be home in time for tea.
Launching
Let us assume we’ve taken our boat to the water’s edge and successfully got her afloat from her trailer without any embarrassing mishaps. Commonly-made mistakes here include losing one’s footing on the slippery slope and ending up sitting waist deep in water, forgetting to keep hold of the painter (the rope attached to your bow) while struggling to remove your trailer from the water and having to watch helplessly as your beloved vessel floats out to sea, or even, the water flooding in over the top of your wellingtons resulting in an unavoidable torrent of obscenities in front of your friends and family. Make secure your boat to the jetty (knots are covered later in this book), and allow time for one more check over to make sure all is ship-shape. Ensure all loose objects are tied down. Not only is this crucial in the event of a capsize, it also prevents anything from being blown away by the dangerously strong winds you are bound to encounter now that you’ve finally got round to getting the boat out of the garage (In 1963, a major shipping disaster was narrowly avoided when Captain Hamish Mactosh’s toupee was blown off in a gale, landing in the face of his helmsman and causing him to blindly steer into the path of a fully-laden herring trawler. A collision was only avoided by the quick thinking of the first mate, who deftly flicked the fluttering toupee clear with the end of a paddle).
First time out
Let us be clear with our fundamental objectives as we leave the safety of the land for the first time. All we want to do at this point is leave the shore, sail around for a bit, and then come back all without totally destroying our boat. With this in mind, set yourself a target such as reaching a specified point on the water, and on reaching that point, refusing to succumb to panic and therefore remaining capable of turning round and coming back ashore safely. A good young skipper with potential will aim for a buoy or something similar no less than half a mile out to sea. A cowardly no-hoper will drift uncontrollably into the middle of the harbour before being forced to row back to the jetty.
Now we have successfully been for a spin and have some degree of confidence on the water, it’s time to look more carefully at the various manoeuvres we must master before we can call ourselves sea-worthy. If at this point we have been reduced to a dribbling nervous wreck, then perhaps it’s time to think about selling our boat, and buying instead a nice trailer tent.
Points of sail
The term “points of sail” should never be confused with the question “What is the point of sailing?” The point of sailing is clearly an exercise in getting one out of the house for a bit of peace, while at the same time making one look sophisticated. The “points of sail” is a term used to describe the direction in which a boat is travelling in relation to the wind. These are detailed below:
Beating:
This term gets its name from the notion that you are “beating the wind”. We sail as close to the oncoming wind as possible, usually at about 45 degrees. It does not originate from the commonly-used culinary term. Any kind of culinary activities on board our boat must be strongly discouraged at this stage.
Reaching:
This manoeuvre is from where the expression “plain sailing” originates. It is commonly regarded as the easiest and most pleasant form of sailing. A particularly nice form of "reaching" is reaching for the beer and crisps stash beneath the foredeck. Reaching is always done at right angles to the wind.
Broad Reaching:
A variation of reaching, this involves turning away from the wind slightly. Too-broad-a reach can result in a calamitous gybe (covered earlier).
Running:
When running, we are sailing with the wind behind us. It is also used to describe the motion of a skipper who has hurriedly beached his vessel and is quickly making his way to the nearest large tree with his hand clamped to his groin.
Tacking:
This is the name given to the manoeuvre of turning our boat when heading windward. Its name derives from the ancient security measure of leaving drawing pins lying on the deck, causing any bare-footed intruders to dance around in a frenzy. (Note: this activity is replicated by a crew tacking in high winds.)
Gybing:
This name is given to the manoeuvre of turning our boat when heading downwind. It should not be confused with “jiving,” an activity banned on boats since the 16th century. Any crew members caught jiving were first forced to dance to the captain’s favourite record instead, then thrown overboard for having such poor musical taste.
Reefing
This is a process by which the area of sail we are carrying is reduced to compensate for a strengthening wind. It is best to do this before we actually set sail, but as always seems to be the way, the weather will drastically change the minute we leave the shore, and so the procedure is nearly always performed in a raging tempest by a panic-stricken crew. It is always best to keep a calm head in such situations. Lowering the mainsail completely and hiding underneath it crying won’t help anyone, nor would pretending to fall overboard and swimming round for a bit while your crew fix the situation; a captain should never leave his boat, even if it has accidentally been set on fire by the cook.
It is clear then, that a good captain will calmly take control of the situation. The mainsail is rolled up from the bottom and replaced on the mast with the minimum of disruption to our course, and certainly without the need to scream at the crew. This can only create unrest and resentment, and can even lead to a full mutiny. At the very least, it can lead to our being tied to the mast and forced to watch while the crew devour our packed lunch between them.
In this chapter we will examine the procedures undertaken in the unfortunate event of things going horribly wrong. It is sometimes inevitable that, although we have properly planned our trip and are fully competent in our craft, something will happen to send the whole thing pear-shaped. Always expect the unexpected to happen, because you can bet your bottom dollar it will, and quite often, just at the most inconvenient moment.
Common unexpected occurrences to be on the lookout for include:
• A sudden change in wind direction
• Other out-of-control vessels rapidly heading in your direction
• Your vessel becoming out-of-control and rapidly heading in the direction of other vessels
• Your helmsman falling backwards off the stern having consumed all the alcohol on board
• Losing control of your vessel as you fight off seagulls trying to eat your sandwiches
• Snagging your fishing hook on a passing boat and being dragged at speed over the side
• Your mother-in-law ringing you telling you to get back home to your wife.
Capsizing
It is a certainty that at some point in our sailing career we will be faced with a capsized boat. The fact that you are reading this very manual bodes well for your chances of avoiding one, but it is surprising how many people take to the water without acquainting themselves with a good basic sailing knowledge. Nonetheless, it will happen to you, especially if you insist on posing astride the foredeck, leaning on the mast wearing your sunglasses. Let us then, look at what happens in more detail.
An onlooker can always tell when a boat is about to capsize. Telltale signs include the boat leaning at an unnatural angle in an immense gust of wind, the captain and crew dancing about in a blind panic, and also, the captain swinging at his hapless crew with an oar. Therefore, we should anticipate these signs before they happen.
The golden rule when it comes to a capsized boat is always blame somebody else. A captain should never accept the blame for spilling his crew into the water together with everyone’s nibbly snacks and supply of booze. It is your fundamental right as skipper to yell at somebody else (usually the first mate), berating them indiscriminately as you bob about together in the water. Commonly-used insults are:
• I told you that was about to happen
• Well how was I supposed to know that was about to happen?
• What did you do that for, my Grandmother’s a better sailor than you
• Oh that’s just great, these are new trousers
• Help, I can’t bloody swim
Getting our boat upright again is simply a matter of splashing round in the water for as long as it takes for the crew to pull her up and bail her out. Only when this process is complete should you declare “I think I’ve got the hang of this swimming lark now,” and doggy-paddle your way back to the boat. This is an important point, as performing a complex stroke such as front-crawl or butterfly is sure to arouse the crew’s suspicions as to our true swimming capabilities.
Remember, don’t get carried away in apportioning the blame; becoming too insulting could lead to your crew sailing off without you, an embarrassing fate to be avoided at all costs. As a guide, stick to the above list until you feel more confident in your ability.
Man overboard
When a member of the crew is lost overboard, it is down to the quick thinking of the skipper and remaining crew (if any) what should happen next. Basically, the speed at which you return to the stranded person should always vary in direct proportion to their popularity amongst those still on board. For example, if the “floater” is your date who you are trying desperately hard to impress, it is strongly advisable to return to them immediately, either apologising profusely, or complimenting them on their diving technique. On the other hand, should the floater be the pain in the a**e of the crew who is always moaning and stealing everybody’s crisps, they should be left to bob about for at least half an hour while you and the rest of your crew go off for a bit of a sail. Of course, this should not be the case if the water is freezing cold. In such conditions they should be left for an hour, or until they begin to blubber, whichever comes first.
There are other points to consider when plucking a "floater" from the water. Such considerations include:
• Are you relying on them for a lift home? If so pick them up without delay
• Is the person sufficiently slim to pull aboard, if not, a capsize may result
• Failure to rescue the only sailing club member aboard could forfeit entry to the bar later
• Would it be more of a laugh for you and your mates to cheer them on as they swam ashore?
• Is the floater your wife who didn’t want to come sailing anyway? If so, rescue immediately.
Avoiding collisions
When sailing a boat in congested areas the same principles apply as when driving a car through a busy city centre. Obviously, there are certain do’s and don’ts to be considered before we charge through a busy shipping lane in our nippy little 14-foot dinghy, the main ones of which are shown below:
DO: Give way to large on-coming vessels at all times
DON'T: Try to divert the course of a cruise liner coming your way by gesticulating frantically
DO: Always remain in a fit physical condition to properly control your boat
DON'T: Get so trollied that you can't even focus, let alone control your boat
DO: Avoid sailing too close to any harbour walls, jetties or promenades
DON'T: In avoiding a collision, sail at speed into any harbour walls, jetties or promenades
DO: Retain poise and dignity at all times, treating other water users with respect
DON'T: Hurl abuse at other water users who may inadvertently get in the bloody way
Rowing
It goes without saying that rowing is the most boring, tiring and unpleasant activity that anyone can perform on board a boat. That is to say, except for dropping a shackle pin beneath the deck boards and having to search for hours amongst God-knows-what with freezing-cold fingers. Our experienced skipper can avoid the need to row by keeping an eye on weather conditions, or not forgetting to bring the sails, but sometimes there is no avoiding having to dip our trusty oars in the water.
When the decision has been made that we must indeed scramble our rowlocks, as Captain we must keep a cool head, and not resort to tantrums and foot-stamping just because we’re faced with an endless row home. An experienced skipper with skill will be able to persuade a loyal crew member to don the oars for him without receiving a single complaint, and certainly without finding himself having to take evasive action from flying rowlocks launched in his direction. And so it follows, that reclining on the deck with a nice cool beer in one hand and a bottle of Ambre Solaire in the other, saying things like “Wake me up when we get there” or, “Can’t you go any faster, I’m hungry,” should be strongly discouraged. Such insensitive comments can surely only result in an oar to the face.
So, in summary, try to avoid finding yourself in the position of having to row your boat in the first place, and if this can’t be avoided, exercise tact in forcing someone else to do it for you.
A word on a knot or two…
To our sailing dinghy, ropes are as essential an item as the sails, rudder, mast, or our emergency stash of chocolate bars that we’ve hidden behind the seats. Essentially, they are used to control the sails, secure our boat to a mooring or jetty, or generally get tangled up on some object or person just at the worst possible moment.
As our reliance on rope has increased, so has our ability to securely fasten them to our boat or jetty, or indeed any crew member finding themselves in the skipper’s bad books. There follows a brief list featuring some of the more common knots, and their uses:
Bowline:
A useful knot for making a temporary eye, or a very permanent one if you make a hash of it. Will not slip if tied by someone who knows what they’re doing.
Round turn and two half hitches:
One for the beginner: simply tie as big a knot as you can till it resembles a large bird’s nest. Used to tie up to a ring or post.
Sheet Bend:
Used to tie two ropes together. Name derives from "round the bend," which is where the beginner is driven when both ropes fall separately to the floor in a heap upon completion
Figure of eight knot:
Used to stop a rope running through a block. If it ends up looking more like the number "68,986," you’ve done it wrong.
Triple hitch thigh splice:
A very handy knot used to reduce chafing whilst wearing oversized shorts.
Smelly Granny:
One of the oldest knots known to man; highly unreliable and bound to slip just when you don’t want it to. Only tie in a complete emergency, or when you’ve forgotten how to do the other knot you know.
Sheep flank wangle:
No explanation available.
Recovering our boat from the water
Like many other aspects of sailing, it is all a matter of keeping one’s cool throughout what is sure to be an extremely stressful experience. The more helping hands you can find the better, but it is a fact that at this point in the day, most or usually all of your crew will have buggered-off home because they were “bloody freezing,” or “had some shopping to do.” So it will almost all the time be a case of having to “drag the bloody thing out yourself then.”
First things first: we must establish the safest and most efficient method of bringing our boat to the shore without causing a panic amongst the crew, or indeed a panic amongst any unsuspecting sunbathers on the beach. Also, it is always beneficial to bring our boat in without having inserted a large hole in her hull from some unseen obstacle beneath the surface (e.g. a shopping trolley, or burnt-out car). Not only would this make us look like a bunch of amateurs, it would also make landing exceptionally tricky, owing to the boat having sunk.
Obviously, the above process is determined by several factors, including weather conditions, tidal conditions, space to manoeuvre and also the amount the helmsman has had to drink. Once you have chosen your target at the shore, it is simply a matter of approaching under full control, and not at breakneck speed with your eyes closed and your crew assuming the crash position. If you are approaching in a headwind it is simply a case of choosing which tack to come in on, and upon almost reaching the shore, casting overboard your tallest crew member to see if he/she can stand up without blowing bubbles. If this is the case, lower your sails, and start packing away your lunch while you are pulled to the beach or jetty.
If, however, you are approaching with a tailwind, a different course of action is required. There are two basic methods from which to choose. Firstly, you can sail in as close to the shore as you dare, and at the last minute, flip your bow round into the wind and start frantically lowering your sails before you inadvertently take off again lengthways along the beach. The second technique involves using our newly-learned commands to warn other people of our impending landing manoeuvre. Approach the shore as normal, and upon reaching a point 30-feet away, give the command “Get the hell out of the way, we’re coming in!!!” This should certainly do the trick, alerting other traffic to your presence, and also creating a nice clear space to aim for on the beach.
An extra technique often employed is to actually jump overboard, in the hope that your vessel misses everybody. If this isn’t the case, one can always say you tripped, or even that someone pushed you in for a joke.
Now that we have successfully arrived at the shore, we must quickly and efficiently get our boat sitting on her trailer. This is important so as not to obstruct other water users from launching or landing, but also because at this point we are bound to be frozen to the bone and absolutely starving, and therefore most susceptible to violent outbursts and uncontrollable urges to throw things at our boat. The task we are faced with is almost impossible, and we must expect to get ourselves even wetter as we struggle trying to wrestle a boat, whose weight feels comparable to a jumbo jet full of pianos, onto a submerged trailer whose wheels are embedded in mud and surrounded by large television set-shaped rocks. Many exhausted sailors have been reduced to helplessly splashing about in chest-high water at this stage, still wearing their Wellington boots.
Another word of warning: be fully prepared for your boat to start floating off just when you’re ready to begin dragging the trailer out of the water. This is really most annoying, and one of the most likely causes of “boat rage” we are likely to encounter.
Let’s just hope for a nice weather forecast...
© Matthew Jenkins 2008
mattofjenko@yahoo.co.uk
Bad Dinghy Sailing for Dummies...
......It is the object of this manual to introduce the beginner to the fundamentals of sailing, and also to be of some use to the novice, as other important areas are explored. These include: How to fall overboard without looking silly, avoiding potentially violent arguments with other water users, how not to upset your crew by yelling obscenities at them, and of course, how to survive a week-long fishing trip with the in-laws.
CHAPTER 1
Before we take to the water….
The most common mistake made by the inexperienced sailor is to eagerly leap aboard their launch without first planning thoroughly the task that lies ahead. In fact, eagerly leaping aboard one’s launch can prove a big mistake at any time, especially if she isn’t properly tied to the jetty. Such incidents invariably end in doing the splits, and quite often a trip to hospital.
What sort of boat?
The first question to be asked is “What do I want my boat for?” A silly question you might say, but it is a fact that some boat owners never intend to launch their boat into the water, choosing instead to park it on their driveway just to look at, or sit next to.
Let us say then, that the owner of this manual is thinking about day sailing; that is, a nice leisurely trip on either inland or coastal waters involving a return home the same day. It should be pointed out at this stage that although this will technically be the case, it always seems to take ages putting everything away, and there is never time when you get home for things like having your tea, or watching telly. Clearly for us then, there is no point in buying a small child’s inflatable dinghy, nor is there any reason to own a 4-berth 25-foot cruiser, although this would dramatically improve our popularity. If this were solely our aim, a gleaming catamaran would certainly be the best choice. The boat for us should be a 12 or 14-foot dinghy: easy to transport and launch single-handed, but with the potential to be entered in a race one day, whether deliberately, or by taking a wrong turn.
What shall I wear?
The question of what clothing to buy before we go sailing is very important, and can sometimes mean the difference between life and death. Our keen young yachtsman would certainly die a death if he or she walked into a packed sailing club bar looking like something from “The Thing from 50,000 Fathoms.” Likewise, turning up wearing freshly pressed chinos pulled to the nipple would also get big laughs. Image is not our only consideration, however. Apart from keeping us warm and dry, our clothing should always be a nice colour; the brighter the better. Not only does this make us more visible in the event of falling overboard, it also helps when trying to avoid tripping over somebody who is sprawled unconscious on the deck having been struck by the boom.
What to take with you
Again, preparation is the key. As budding sailors we must learn to be as organised as possible, and to always watch other more experienced crews to see how they go about arranging their decks, learning from any mistakes we see them make. Don’t be afraid to make up lists of even the most basic requirements. Take the example of the famous Americas Cup contestant, Ralph F. Peasbody, renowned for his endless lists and obsessive drive for perfection. He had travelled 4,000 miles to get to the start of the great race, when on his arrival, although he had remembered everything on his list of things to bring, he realised he had forgotten his boat, which sat 4,000 miles away on his driveway. It said much of his skill at the helm, not to mention the hapless navigational skills of his rivals, that he still managed to finish third, even having returned home to get his boat.
As a rough guide to help with our preparations, there follows three lists detailing all manner of nautical equipment, divided into different priorities:
HIGH PRIORITY:
Boat, Mast & Rigging, Sails, Rudder, Tiller, Paddle, Lifejackets, Cool-box full of beer
MEDIUM PRIORITY:
Spare clothing, Compass & Charts, Spare ropes, Tool kit, Enormous packed lunch, Flip-flops
LOW PRIORITY:
Wife, Mobile Phone, Air rifle, Pets, Shaving equipment, Television set, Ear-muffs
These lists are by no means exhaustive; as you become more experienced you will soon add your own essentials. A note on spare clothing: Dry clothes can be a godsend at the end of a hard day’s sailing, but it can also be very useful to take a set of wet clothes with you too. A skipper emerging from his vessel at the shore sporting dripping wet attire will always get the sympathy vote from any onlookers. This can easily turn into a welcome set of helping hands dragging your boat onto its trailer (a virtually impossible task, covered in a later chapter), or at the very least, a free drink at the club bar later.
Sailing jargon explained…
Before we begin to discuss the practicalities of rigging and launching our boat, we must first familiarise ourselves with the terms used to communicate commands from skipper to crew, and vice versa. It would be pointless, and indeed potentially dangerous, if commands were misunderstood. For example, on the skipper’s call of “We’re sailing by the lee!” the crew should not all suddenly launch themselves overboard and start swimming frantically towards the shore. Nor should they start dancing round on the foredeck, singing “A Sailor’s Life for Me.”
The following is a brief list of commands followed by their meanings, and the appropriate response from the crew:
COMMAND: "Ready about?"
MEANING: Prepare to tack
RESPONSE: "Aye!"
COMMAND: "Lee-Ho!"
MEANING: We're tacking
RESPONSE: (Just concentrate on what you're doing in case you get shouted at)
COMMAND: "Stand by to gybe!"
MEANING: Prepare to gybe
RESPONSE: "Aye!" (Hold onto something, as this may well go wrong)
COMMAND: "We're running by the lee!"
MEANING: Watch out in case the wind flips the boom around
RESPONSE: "Aye-aye!" (Take evasive action immediately - safest place below the foredeck)
COMMAND: "Watch that burgee!"
MEANING: Look up at the flag atop the mast, you're not steering properly
RESPONSE: "Look, who's steering this damn thing, me or you?"
COMMAND: "Run the mainsheet, run the mainsheet...!"
MEANING: Let go of the mainsail immediately, you're about to bloody capsize us
RESPONSE: "I didn't want to steer anyway, you made me! I knew I should've played golf instead."
CHAPTER 2
Now we’re ready to sail…
Okay, so we’ve planned our sail down to the tiniest detail and are now familiar with some of the commands we might expect to hear on board our boat. It’s now time to learn how to rig our boat, that is, to put up (step) the mast and sails, along with all the hundreds of fiddly bits and pieces we need to attach/arrange/coil up/fasten down/throw in the back of the car/generally sort out before we set sail.
Any captain worth his salt is always on the lookout for ways of avoiding any hard work so he can concentrate on more important skipper-type activities such as chatting to bikini-clad sunbathers, or strutting up and down the jetty admiring his reflection in the water. The procedure of stepping the mast is certainly worth avoiding, as it can easily turn into an embarrassing calamity when the inadequately controlled mast topples over, sending innocent bystanders scurrying for cover with their hands in the air. At times like these, the captain can turn to his well-rehearsed repertoire of prepared excuses to retreat to safety. Among the most widely used are: “I think I might have left the car unlocked,” or “Damn, I’ve left my sandwiches on the kitchen table,” or “Is that Larry Wiseman over there?” or, the ever-reliable “I’ve just remembered, I forgot to let the dog out for a piss.”
Now we have our boat rigged and ready for launching, it is a good time to have one last check around to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Many a time has a boat taken to the water without some vital part having been properly fixed. Imagine the embarrassment if, on letting fly our spinnaker, it took off into the air and flew into the distance because someone had forgotten to clip it to the halyard? Even worse, there are few more dangerous mistakes to make than disappearing from the jetty with a boat full of rowdy crew tanked-up on lager, without having first kissed your wife goodbye and promised you’ll be home in time for tea.
Launching
Let us assume we’ve taken our boat to the water’s edge and successfully got her afloat from her trailer without any embarrassing mishaps. Commonly-made mistakes here include losing one’s footing on the slippery slope and ending up sitting waist deep in water, forgetting to keep hold of the painter (the rope attached to your bow) while struggling to remove your trailer from the water and having to watch helplessly as your beloved vessel floats out to sea, or even, the water flooding in over the top of your wellingtons resulting in an unavoidable torrent of obscenities in front of your friends and family. Make secure your boat to the jetty (knots are covered later in this book), and allow time for one more check over to make sure all is ship-shape. Ensure all loose objects are tied down. Not only is this crucial in the event of a capsize, it also prevents anything from being blown away by the dangerously strong winds you are bound to encounter now that you’ve finally got round to getting the boat out of the garage (In 1963, a major shipping disaster was narrowly avoided when Captain Hamish Mactosh’s toupee was blown off in a gale, landing in the face of his helmsman and causing him to blindly steer into the path of a fully-laden herring trawler. A collision was only avoided by the quick thinking of the first mate, who deftly flicked the fluttering toupee clear with the end of a paddle).
First time out
Let us be clear with our fundamental objectives as we leave the safety of the land for the first time. All we want to do at this point is leave the shore, sail around for a bit, and then come back all without totally destroying our boat. With this in mind, set yourself a target such as reaching a specified point on the water, and on reaching that point, refusing to succumb to panic and therefore remaining capable of turning round and coming back ashore safely. A good young skipper with potential will aim for a buoy or something similar no less than half a mile out to sea. A cowardly no-hoper will drift uncontrollably into the middle of the harbour before being forced to row back to the jetty.
Now we have successfully been for a spin and have some degree of confidence on the water, it’s time to look more carefully at the various manoeuvres we must master before we can call ourselves sea-worthy. If at this point we have been reduced to a dribbling nervous wreck, then perhaps it’s time to think about selling our boat, and buying instead a nice trailer tent.
Points of sail
The term “points of sail” should never be confused with the question “What is the point of sailing?” The point of sailing is clearly an exercise in getting one out of the house for a bit of peace, while at the same time making one look sophisticated. The “points of sail” is a term used to describe the direction in which a boat is travelling in relation to the wind. These are detailed below:
Beating:
This term gets its name from the notion that you are “beating the wind”. We sail as close to the oncoming wind as possible, usually at about 45 degrees. It does not originate from the commonly-used culinary term. Any kind of culinary activities on board our boat must be strongly discouraged at this stage.
Reaching:
This manoeuvre is from where the expression “plain sailing” originates. It is commonly regarded as the easiest and most pleasant form of sailing. A particularly nice form of "reaching" is reaching for the beer and crisps stash beneath the foredeck. Reaching is always done at right angles to the wind.
Broad Reaching:
A variation of reaching, this involves turning away from the wind slightly. Too-broad-a reach can result in a calamitous gybe (covered earlier).
Running:
When running, we are sailing with the wind behind us. It is also used to describe the motion of a skipper who has hurriedly beached his vessel and is quickly making his way to the nearest large tree with his hand clamped to his groin.
Tacking:
This is the name given to the manoeuvre of turning our boat when heading windward. Its name derives from the ancient security measure of leaving drawing pins lying on the deck, causing any bare-footed intruders to dance around in a frenzy. (Note: this activity is replicated by a crew tacking in high winds.)
Gybing:
This name is given to the manoeuvre of turning our boat when heading downwind. It should not be confused with “jiving,” an activity banned on boats since the 16th century. Any crew members caught jiving were first forced to dance to the captain’s favourite record instead, then thrown overboard for having such poor musical taste.
Reefing
This is a process by which the area of sail we are carrying is reduced to compensate for a strengthening wind. It is best to do this before we actually set sail, but as always seems to be the way, the weather will drastically change the minute we leave the shore, and so the procedure is nearly always performed in a raging tempest by a panic-stricken crew. It is always best to keep a calm head in such situations. Lowering the mainsail completely and hiding underneath it crying won’t help anyone, nor would pretending to fall overboard and swimming round for a bit while your crew fix the situation; a captain should never leave his boat, even if it has accidentally been set on fire by the cook.
It is clear then, that a good captain will calmly take control of the situation. The mainsail is rolled up from the bottom and replaced on the mast with the minimum of disruption to our course, and certainly without the need to scream at the crew. This can only create unrest and resentment, and can even lead to a full mutiny. At the very least, it can lead to our being tied to the mast and forced to watch while the crew devour our packed lunch between them.
CHAPTER 3
Safety procedures and what to do if things go wrong
In this chapter we will examine the procedures undertaken in the unfortunate event of things going horribly wrong. It is sometimes inevitable that, although we have properly planned our trip and are fully competent in our craft, something will happen to send the whole thing pear-shaped. Always expect the unexpected to happen, because you can bet your bottom dollar it will, and quite often, just at the most inconvenient moment.
Common unexpected occurrences to be on the lookout for include:
• A sudden change in wind direction
• Other out-of-control vessels rapidly heading in your direction
• Your vessel becoming out-of-control and rapidly heading in the direction of other vessels
• Your helmsman falling backwards off the stern having consumed all the alcohol on board
• Losing control of your vessel as you fight off seagulls trying to eat your sandwiches
• Snagging your fishing hook on a passing boat and being dragged at speed over the side
• Your mother-in-law ringing you telling you to get back home to your wife.
Capsizing
It is a certainty that at some point in our sailing career we will be faced with a capsized boat. The fact that you are reading this very manual bodes well for your chances of avoiding one, but it is surprising how many people take to the water without acquainting themselves with a good basic sailing knowledge. Nonetheless, it will happen to you, especially if you insist on posing astride the foredeck, leaning on the mast wearing your sunglasses. Let us then, look at what happens in more detail.
An onlooker can always tell when a boat is about to capsize. Telltale signs include the boat leaning at an unnatural angle in an immense gust of wind, the captain and crew dancing about in a blind panic, and also, the captain swinging at his hapless crew with an oar. Therefore, we should anticipate these signs before they happen.
The golden rule when it comes to a capsized boat is always blame somebody else. A captain should never accept the blame for spilling his crew into the water together with everyone’s nibbly snacks and supply of booze. It is your fundamental right as skipper to yell at somebody else (usually the first mate), berating them indiscriminately as you bob about together in the water. Commonly-used insults are:
• I told you that was about to happen
• Well how was I supposed to know that was about to happen?
• What did you do that for, my Grandmother’s a better sailor than you
• Oh that’s just great, these are new trousers
• Help, I can’t bloody swim
Getting our boat upright again is simply a matter of splashing round in the water for as long as it takes for the crew to pull her up and bail her out. Only when this process is complete should you declare “I think I’ve got the hang of this swimming lark now,” and doggy-paddle your way back to the boat. This is an important point, as performing a complex stroke such as front-crawl or butterfly is sure to arouse the crew’s suspicions as to our true swimming capabilities.
Remember, don’t get carried away in apportioning the blame; becoming too insulting could lead to your crew sailing off without you, an embarrassing fate to be avoided at all costs. As a guide, stick to the above list until you feel more confident in your ability.
Man overboard
When a member of the crew is lost overboard, it is down to the quick thinking of the skipper and remaining crew (if any) what should happen next. Basically, the speed at which you return to the stranded person should always vary in direct proportion to their popularity amongst those still on board. For example, if the “floater” is your date who you are trying desperately hard to impress, it is strongly advisable to return to them immediately, either apologising profusely, or complimenting them on their diving technique. On the other hand, should the floater be the pain in the a**e of the crew who is always moaning and stealing everybody’s crisps, they should be left to bob about for at least half an hour while you and the rest of your crew go off for a bit of a sail. Of course, this should not be the case if the water is freezing cold. In such conditions they should be left for an hour, or until they begin to blubber, whichever comes first.
There are other points to consider when plucking a "floater" from the water. Such considerations include:
• Are you relying on them for a lift home? If so pick them up without delay
• Is the person sufficiently slim to pull aboard, if not, a capsize may result
• Failure to rescue the only sailing club member aboard could forfeit entry to the bar later
• Would it be more of a laugh for you and your mates to cheer them on as they swam ashore?
• Is the floater your wife who didn’t want to come sailing anyway? If so, rescue immediately.
Avoiding collisions
When sailing a boat in congested areas the same principles apply as when driving a car through a busy city centre. Obviously, there are certain do’s and don’ts to be considered before we charge through a busy shipping lane in our nippy little 14-foot dinghy, the main ones of which are shown below:
DO: Give way to large on-coming vessels at all times
DON'T: Try to divert the course of a cruise liner coming your way by gesticulating frantically
DO: Always remain in a fit physical condition to properly control your boat
DON'T: Get so trollied that you can't even focus, let alone control your boat
DO: Avoid sailing too close to any harbour walls, jetties or promenades
DON'T: In avoiding a collision, sail at speed into any harbour walls, jetties or promenades
DO: Retain poise and dignity at all times, treating other water users with respect
DON'T: Hurl abuse at other water users who may inadvertently get in the bloody way
Rowing
It goes without saying that rowing is the most boring, tiring and unpleasant activity that anyone can perform on board a boat. That is to say, except for dropping a shackle pin beneath the deck boards and having to search for hours amongst God-knows-what with freezing-cold fingers. Our experienced skipper can avoid the need to row by keeping an eye on weather conditions, or not forgetting to bring the sails, but sometimes there is no avoiding having to dip our trusty oars in the water.
When the decision has been made that we must indeed scramble our rowlocks, as Captain we must keep a cool head, and not resort to tantrums and foot-stamping just because we’re faced with an endless row home. An experienced skipper with skill will be able to persuade a loyal crew member to don the oars for him without receiving a single complaint, and certainly without finding himself having to take evasive action from flying rowlocks launched in his direction. And so it follows, that reclining on the deck with a nice cool beer in one hand and a bottle of Ambre Solaire in the other, saying things like “Wake me up when we get there” or, “Can’t you go any faster, I’m hungry,” should be strongly discouraged. Such insensitive comments can surely only result in an oar to the face.
So, in summary, try to avoid finding yourself in the position of having to row your boat in the first place, and if this can’t be avoided, exercise tact in forcing someone else to do it for you.
A word on a knot or two…
To our sailing dinghy, ropes are as essential an item as the sails, rudder, mast, or our emergency stash of chocolate bars that we’ve hidden behind the seats. Essentially, they are used to control the sails, secure our boat to a mooring or jetty, or generally get tangled up on some object or person just at the worst possible moment.
As our reliance on rope has increased, so has our ability to securely fasten them to our boat or jetty, or indeed any crew member finding themselves in the skipper’s bad books. There follows a brief list featuring some of the more common knots, and their uses:
Bowline:
A useful knot for making a temporary eye, or a very permanent one if you make a hash of it. Will not slip if tied by someone who knows what they’re doing.
Round turn and two half hitches:
One for the beginner: simply tie as big a knot as you can till it resembles a large bird’s nest. Used to tie up to a ring or post.
Sheet Bend:
Used to tie two ropes together. Name derives from "round the bend," which is where the beginner is driven when both ropes fall separately to the floor in a heap upon completion
Figure of eight knot:
Used to stop a rope running through a block. If it ends up looking more like the number "68,986," you’ve done it wrong.
Triple hitch thigh splice:
A very handy knot used to reduce chafing whilst wearing oversized shorts.
Smelly Granny:
One of the oldest knots known to man; highly unreliable and bound to slip just when you don’t want it to. Only tie in a complete emergency, or when you’ve forgotten how to do the other knot you know.
Sheep flank wangle:
No explanation available.
Recovering our boat from the water
Like many other aspects of sailing, it is all a matter of keeping one’s cool throughout what is sure to be an extremely stressful experience. The more helping hands you can find the better, but it is a fact that at this point in the day, most or usually all of your crew will have buggered-off home because they were “bloody freezing,” or “had some shopping to do.” So it will almost all the time be a case of having to “drag the bloody thing out yourself then.”
First things first: we must establish the safest and most efficient method of bringing our boat to the shore without causing a panic amongst the crew, or indeed a panic amongst any unsuspecting sunbathers on the beach. Also, it is always beneficial to bring our boat in without having inserted a large hole in her hull from some unseen obstacle beneath the surface (e.g. a shopping trolley, or burnt-out car). Not only would this make us look like a bunch of amateurs, it would also make landing exceptionally tricky, owing to the boat having sunk.
Obviously, the above process is determined by several factors, including weather conditions, tidal conditions, space to manoeuvre and also the amount the helmsman has had to drink. Once you have chosen your target at the shore, it is simply a matter of approaching under full control, and not at breakneck speed with your eyes closed and your crew assuming the crash position. If you are approaching in a headwind it is simply a case of choosing which tack to come in on, and upon almost reaching the shore, casting overboard your tallest crew member to see if he/she can stand up without blowing bubbles. If this is the case, lower your sails, and start packing away your lunch while you are pulled to the beach or jetty.
If, however, you are approaching with a tailwind, a different course of action is required. There are two basic methods from which to choose. Firstly, you can sail in as close to the shore as you dare, and at the last minute, flip your bow round into the wind and start frantically lowering your sails before you inadvertently take off again lengthways along the beach. The second technique involves using our newly-learned commands to warn other people of our impending landing manoeuvre. Approach the shore as normal, and upon reaching a point 30-feet away, give the command “Get the hell out of the way, we’re coming in!!!” This should certainly do the trick, alerting other traffic to your presence, and also creating a nice clear space to aim for on the beach.
An extra technique often employed is to actually jump overboard, in the hope that your vessel misses everybody. If this isn’t the case, one can always say you tripped, or even that someone pushed you in for a joke.
Now that we have successfully arrived at the shore, we must quickly and efficiently get our boat sitting on her trailer. This is important so as not to obstruct other water users from launching or landing, but also because at this point we are bound to be frozen to the bone and absolutely starving, and therefore most susceptible to violent outbursts and uncontrollable urges to throw things at our boat. The task we are faced with is almost impossible, and we must expect to get ourselves even wetter as we struggle trying to wrestle a boat, whose weight feels comparable to a jumbo jet full of pianos, onto a submerged trailer whose wheels are embedded in mud and surrounded by large television set-shaped rocks. Many exhausted sailors have been reduced to helplessly splashing about in chest-high water at this stage, still wearing their Wellington boots.
Another word of warning: be fully prepared for your boat to start floating off just when you’re ready to begin dragging the trailer out of the water. This is really most annoying, and one of the most likely causes of “boat rage” we are likely to encounter.
********************************
I hope that you have found this brief manual interesting and of some use in your studies. It should be said that we can read numerous technical publications such as this one, but there really is no substitute for actually getting out there on the water and gaining some good experience. You have taken your first successful step to becoming a good sailor by choosing to read this book, so now its time to put it all into practice and, above all, have some fun! Let’s just hope for a nice weather forecast...
© Matthew Jenkins 2008
mattofjenko@yahoo.co.uk
