John R Smith
03-08-2002, 10:21 AM
Folks
before Christmas someone said I should save up a Lulu story for the dark weeks of February. Somehow, I didn't quite make February, but better late than never, I suppose. I'd like to dedicate this to one of "Lulu's" most faithful fans, Darryl Jones. To absent friends . . .
Lulu Almost Goes to Sea
http://a3.cpimg.com/image/6B/D1/6680683-1e8a-00B600AE-.jpg
Well, my friends, our cruising last season was, we must admit, quite tame. We expended so much precious energy in burning, scraping and repairing the hull, that our trips down river tended to be short (and well punctuated by numerous breaks for tea). Indeed, we are leaning towards the conclusion that we had mis-heard the previous owner's name, and Mr Rock was in fact Mr Rot.
We enjoyed our voyages nonetheless, despite their general lack of drama. So let us join the good ship Lulu, as the Skipper and First Mate take a day off from filler and paint.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/p58c2e91aae52630477831da4aa2693f1/fde29ef9.jpg
The tide creeps up to Sunny Corner, with the promise of a perfect day. As you can see, the channel buoys are still on the mud, but in an hour or so we'll be afloat. The boat in the foreground is on the next mooring to Lulu, and belongs to Danny.
As things turned out, our departure was not altogether without incident. We dropped the moorings, but the rear buoy refused to detach itself from our rudder. The wind blew the bows around, and we found ourselves sideways across our berth. Attempting to turn the boat back round, we motored ahead, astern, ahead - and oops, ahead rather too much. Unable to get the way off fast enough, there was a horrible crunch as we impaled Lulu's bowsprit in the gunwale of Danny's boat. Even worse, there was a large and critical audience assembled on the quay.
Thank goodness, no real harm was done. And Danny was quite nice about it, when we later confessed our sins. But how is it that when we moor-up perfectly, the quayside is deserted?
Ho hum. No matter, the river soon worked its healing magic.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/p88156781837008470727605a8b26ac68/fde29ef8.jpg
Here is the First Mate at the helm, as we motor downstream, looking for a breeze. You may notice our rope sheet-horse, which seems to work just fine. And I have just realised what an appalling mess our mainsheet is (how embarrassing) - it is normally flaked down much more neatly, honest.
When we headed out into the Carrick Roads, the breeze was light and fitful. But as we know, light-airs sailing can still be fun, and so main and jib were hoisted. We drifted along in a most relaxing fashion, relishing the quiet and calm as the Yanmar took a break.
As we were towing the faithful Doris (our dinghy), a thought occurred to Kate - why not get some photos of Lulu under sail? No sooner thought than done, and she was off with camera in the dinghy (on the end of a long painter, just in case). Well, the painter wasn't really long enough, but never mind -
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/pb7f05aadebb6cee3af66f4e820cf1b54/fde29ef7.jpg
And here is Lulu under sail in the Roads. Notice the immaculate set of our sails, the lean and handsome Skipper - oh well, all right, you know I was kidding. You can see there is so little wind that the Cornish flag is drooping, and the mainsheet is completely slack. But nonetheless we are sailing, as Kate found out when she had to get back alongside.
We poodled along like this for an hour or so, and then got a bit bored, to be honest with you. So we fired up the mighty diesel again (all 318cc of it) and headed south. By now it was dead low water and in places there was less than 1.5 metres under our keel, even though we were half a mile from land on either side. It came as something of a shock when a huge freighter steamed up behind us, snaking down river in the deep channel.
Ahead of us now were the open sea and the entrance to Falmouth Harbour, marked by Black Rock. Thus far, as you know, we have always sailed Lulu in the confines of the river, but today - well, conditions were calm, to say the least. So we pressed on towards the English Channel (gosh - better check the flares).
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/p2e2a0ed8d3da9b9782799332047addc2/fde29efb.jpg
Here we are, passing the rock, with St Anthony's Light in the background. Black Rock was a considerable hazard to navigation until 1837, when the granite column seen on the left of the picture was erected by Olver and Sons at a cost of £2,260 9s 10d. This structure is 37 feet high and unlit.
As we came alongside, we realised that seals were sunning themselves on the weed-covered rocks (you can just see one in the picture, immediately below the yacht). So of course we had to go round again to take a better look, and in the excitement quite forgot all about going to sea. By the time we realised that we were going back up river again, it seemed rather too late to change our minds. Bother. Another time, perhaps.
Now it was getting late, so we set our course for home. From Falmouth, it's a good two and a half-hour trip. Still, going back up with the tide is easy - plenty of time to get the kettle on and have a drop of tay, me 'andsomes. Hope you all enjoyed the little cruise smile.gif
John
before Christmas someone said I should save up a Lulu story for the dark weeks of February. Somehow, I didn't quite make February, but better late than never, I suppose. I'd like to dedicate this to one of "Lulu's" most faithful fans, Darryl Jones. To absent friends . . .
Lulu Almost Goes to Sea
http://a3.cpimg.com/image/6B/D1/6680683-1e8a-00B600AE-.jpg
Well, my friends, our cruising last season was, we must admit, quite tame. We expended so much precious energy in burning, scraping and repairing the hull, that our trips down river tended to be short (and well punctuated by numerous breaks for tea). Indeed, we are leaning towards the conclusion that we had mis-heard the previous owner's name, and Mr Rock was in fact Mr Rot.
We enjoyed our voyages nonetheless, despite their general lack of drama. So let us join the good ship Lulu, as the Skipper and First Mate take a day off from filler and paint.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/p58c2e91aae52630477831da4aa2693f1/fde29ef9.jpg
The tide creeps up to Sunny Corner, with the promise of a perfect day. As you can see, the channel buoys are still on the mud, but in an hour or so we'll be afloat. The boat in the foreground is on the next mooring to Lulu, and belongs to Danny.
As things turned out, our departure was not altogether without incident. We dropped the moorings, but the rear buoy refused to detach itself from our rudder. The wind blew the bows around, and we found ourselves sideways across our berth. Attempting to turn the boat back round, we motored ahead, astern, ahead - and oops, ahead rather too much. Unable to get the way off fast enough, there was a horrible crunch as we impaled Lulu's bowsprit in the gunwale of Danny's boat. Even worse, there was a large and critical audience assembled on the quay.
Thank goodness, no real harm was done. And Danny was quite nice about it, when we later confessed our sins. But how is it that when we moor-up perfectly, the quayside is deserted?
Ho hum. No matter, the river soon worked its healing magic.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/p88156781837008470727605a8b26ac68/fde29ef8.jpg
Here is the First Mate at the helm, as we motor downstream, looking for a breeze. You may notice our rope sheet-horse, which seems to work just fine. And I have just realised what an appalling mess our mainsheet is (how embarrassing) - it is normally flaked down much more neatly, honest.
When we headed out into the Carrick Roads, the breeze was light and fitful. But as we know, light-airs sailing can still be fun, and so main and jib were hoisted. We drifted along in a most relaxing fashion, relishing the quiet and calm as the Yanmar took a break.
As we were towing the faithful Doris (our dinghy), a thought occurred to Kate - why not get some photos of Lulu under sail? No sooner thought than done, and she was off with camera in the dinghy (on the end of a long painter, just in case). Well, the painter wasn't really long enough, but never mind -
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/pb7f05aadebb6cee3af66f4e820cf1b54/fde29ef7.jpg
And here is Lulu under sail in the Roads. Notice the immaculate set of our sails, the lean and handsome Skipper - oh well, all right, you know I was kidding. You can see there is so little wind that the Cornish flag is drooping, and the mainsheet is completely slack. But nonetheless we are sailing, as Kate found out when she had to get back alongside.
We poodled along like this for an hour or so, and then got a bit bored, to be honest with you. So we fired up the mighty diesel again (all 318cc of it) and headed south. By now it was dead low water and in places there was less than 1.5 metres under our keel, even though we were half a mile from land on either side. It came as something of a shock when a huge freighter steamed up behind us, snaking down river in the deep channel.
Ahead of us now were the open sea and the entrance to Falmouth Harbour, marked by Black Rock. Thus far, as you know, we have always sailed Lulu in the confines of the river, but today - well, conditions were calm, to say the least. So we pressed on towards the English Channel (gosh - better check the flares).
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid5/p2e2a0ed8d3da9b9782799332047addc2/fde29efb.jpg
Here we are, passing the rock, with St Anthony's Light in the background. Black Rock was a considerable hazard to navigation until 1837, when the granite column seen on the left of the picture was erected by Olver and Sons at a cost of £2,260 9s 10d. This structure is 37 feet high and unlit.
As we came alongside, we realised that seals were sunning themselves on the weed-covered rocks (you can just see one in the picture, immediately below the yacht). So of course we had to go round again to take a better look, and in the excitement quite forgot all about going to sea. By the time we realised that we were going back up river again, it seemed rather too late to change our minds. Bother. Another time, perhaps.
Now it was getting late, so we set our course for home. From Falmouth, it's a good two and a half-hour trip. Still, going back up with the tide is easy - plenty of time to get the kettle on and have a drop of tay, me 'andsomes. Hope you all enjoyed the little cruise smile.gif
John