Sailing yet again

We went through the process of selling our own boat more than nine months ago now. She (boats are always feminine) was a 'Cornish Shrimper', nineteen feet long and a classic sailing boat built by a company that has been around for many years. Ours was a MK1, which means she was quite elderly, dating from 1985 as I recall, and since then there have been MK2 Shrimpers of the same size, almost identical to look at such that only an expert could tell the difference.

Taking a picture of one's own boat under sail is always a challenge when you are actually on board sailing so here is what Eun na Mara once looked like from a distance, before we sold her. Living by the sea as we do I might have expected further adventures on the water but it is safe to say that I did not expect to be sailing again in a Shrimper. 

Then something strange happened. Just along the road from us lives a man called Chris and as it happens he is the owner of a Cornish Shrimper, a MK2, but it was perhaps inevitable that we would become friends at some point. We had plenty to talk about, tales to tell of our sailing experiences, things that can go wrong with this particular boat, mishaps they are called, and the pleasures of sailing in perfect conditions too. His boat is called Loup, and on passing his home we would frequently pause to admire the work he was doing on her as she lay on a trailer in his drive. We are now late in the sailing season and just recently we noticed that Chris's Shrimper had found her way back into the water. He plans to keep her in the marina just below us during the winter months. Then suddenly, out of the blue, I received an invitation from him to go out on a day's sailing.

My first point of call was to check the weather forecast, quite important since we had been going through a run of windy and wet days, sunshine alternating with torrential downpours. On the proposed day in question, however, things looked reasonably good; a light breeze from the west and just a forty percent chance of rain. What could possibly go wrong.

My next stop was the cupboard in which I had stored away my sailing clothes, the waterproof leggings and matching jacket, a hat and of course the lifejacket which thankfully still had a viable inflation cylinder inside it. Decisions on appropriate warm clothing needed to be made (it is always significantly cooler at sea) and I also raided the kitchen snack cupboard for a few nibbles. As it happened there was a box full of recently made cheese straws lying about so I stuffed as many of these as I could into a smaller container then the following morning, loaded up with all these things, I strode down to the marina where Chris was getting Loup ready. Although his boat is equipped with an inboard diesel engine Chris has been experimenting with a small electric outboard engine mounted on the stern which he prefers to use so we whispered our way out to sea with no noise at all. Sails were raised and off we sailed, the light breeze carrying us away from the harbour, in and out of the light rain showers that were drifting about everywhere, so it seemed.

He seemed happy to let me take turns on the helm and before long we had sailed out into Inchmarnock Water, the joining point of Kilbrannan Sound, Loch Fyne and the Kyles of Bute. It was here, when looking ahead, we saw an enormous flock of birds, mostly seagulls, take off from the water all in one go, rising like a cloud into the air. From past experience we both guessed that this might indicate the presence of a whale, or some other large beast so we watched and waited as we slowly sailed towards them. And sure enough, before long we could see some porpoises leaping out of the water and then the larger fins of some dolphins some distance away.

We were sailing quite slowly as the winds we were getting had been variable all the way so at this point we decided to turn and begin to make way back up the loch. This decision which must have caught the attention of some of the dolphins who suddenly decided to have some fun with us. It seems strange to think of animals like these 'having fun' but there is really no other explanation as to why they would want to swim right under our bow and stay with us as we sailed quietly along. It seems they are stimulated by the pressure of our bow wave and want to swim close by to expose themselves to this as much as possible.

The pleasure for us on board (boosted by the cheese straws of course) was just as great and when a couple of dolphins came close for a peep at us we thanked them and wished them well. It was a if the whole sea was alive with dolphins and porpoises, just for our benefit.

The rest of the day went well. We paused for lunch by dropping into Portavadie, a marina and swimming pool complex located across the loch from Tarbert, then set off towards home nicely refreshed. The wind had become a little more steady and the rain was just about holding off as we tacked across Loch Fyne back to Tarbert and then just outside the harbour we lowered the sails and once again switched on the electric outboard engine so we could ghost our way back to a marina berth in complete silence. As it happened the timing was perfect as soon after we were back the rain came on with a vengeance with more wind than we would have wanted out at sea.