U is for . . .

Unlucky. Unhappy. Unbelievable!

Mostly it’s for U-bolt, which apparently sheared off this morning on Coh Karek’s deck, causing the crew to retire. Ach!

The weather was meant to be a little wet, a bit windy, and very grey. The crew gathered this morning here and talked who would trim, nav, man the foredeck, etc—and a full contingent of sailors—seven in all—were ready. The text came in from Tim about 80 minutes after the start—my first thoughts were . . . unprintable. I am now just awaiting their return and to see if she can sail tomorrow, the last day of racing for Cowes Week.

Small consolation, but the time to stroll the Parade and spend time in Cowes off the boat was nice for the crew yesterday—The two Tims and I walked down to see the Extreme Sailing, only to find that the wind was too strong and gusty for the catamarans to compete—the first time in history that a race has been cancelled. They’ve postponed for today until 4:30 pm, hoping to get in some races.

Last night was fun—a stroll to the Royal Yacht Squadron, all of use decked out in our best kit, to sip Pimm’s / wine and rub elbows with the Commodore and the other members of the Royal Ocean Racing Club. It was a bit chilly last night; while we started outside (as the photo below shows), we eventually moved under the tent to chat with some of the other sailors. There was music, but no dancing this time—too many others inside, and, this year the quartet was outside! No matter; we enjoyed chatting and taking in the lovely view of the Solent from the RYS garden—it is quite lovely and well maintained, though you only get to see it if you are on the grounds.

Tim's brother, Dom, Dave, Tim, Tim's brother, me, Tim E

Afterwards we went for a delicious Thai meal just steps away, a large table in their enclosed garden area.  Less talk about sailing and more about life and work—even sailors have their limit to how much they can talk boats, it seems!

Tonight we head over to Shepard’s Wharf to queue for one of the coveted 500 Mount Gay Rum red caps, a free rum ‘n coke, and another chance to catch up with sailors on other crews. Tim’s crew seems amazingly resilient—even after a disappointing day I expect they’ll be ready to catch a bit more of the Cowes night life. Let’s hope for the best for tomorrow!

Holiday

I was just thinking about the term “staycation”—staying locally for vacation to keep costs down (for one reason; there are probably others). Well, I’m staycationing, but I must say it feels like a proper time away from the office. Tim and I are in Cowes for the world-renowned Cowes Week.  which includes seven days of sailing, events every night (some posh, some not), and a chance to see the old town transform into a wild, crowded, noisy but ultimately fun place to be.

We came down on Thursday to prepare—Tim to take Coh Karek for a bath (boats move faster in the water when they’re clean) and do the last-minute tasks to get her ready to sail; me, simply by routine of coming on Thursdays after work (because there wasn’t too much to prepare for on my end). Jake came to lend a hand to Tim—they didn’t have to personally wash her, but there were other things to do to make her sail faster (which included dumping old sails off and stowing them in the space below the stairs here at home).

Thursday was still quiet—perhaps a few more people on the High Street than usual, but not anywhere near full Cowes Week proportions. We had a lovely steak dinner at home and took a walk in the evening to see what was happening along the Parade—it was still quiet, even at the Champagne Bar next to the ferry terminal. It was just a matter of time!

By Friday things had picked up—able crewmen Tim (E) and Dave arrived, and we had a chicken stir fry, a couple bottles of wine and great conversation, as ever—the three men have sailed together quite a bit, including a 16-day journey across the Atlantic—and there was planning for CW as well as just catching up with each other. Jake returned to London for the night and Dominic was arriving in the morning before the start. I sensed excitement. Heck, I was excited and I wasn’t even sailing!

We decided to take a walk to the Cowes Yacht Haven to see what was going on—there is always plenty of music and some mock Blondie band was scheduled to perform. When we arrived it was more a mock Dire Straits band, though they were good and somewhere along the line they were kind enough to inform us that the Blondie band wasn’t showing . . . no matter. It was a lovely night—a little cool, but dry, and I enjoyed taking it all in. You simply have to experience Cowes Week—the mix of sailors, wannabes, crazies, and the rest of us (as I don’t consider myself any of the former) just watching. There was plenty of dancing in the aisles, including for our entertainment this evening [drunk] girls with water guns that we artfully avoided—guns and girls both.

Day One. Nice weather—sun and just enough wind. Off they go after a hearty sailors’ breakfast—bacon and egg sarnies and coffee / tea—and I set about doing a few chores (mostly food shopping) and taking in the town. It’s become crowded—in fact, far more crowded than I expected with throngs of visitors popping in and out of shops, queuing at Tottie’s fish and chips (which I’ve never had) or Corrie’s, just another 200 steps up the High Street (which has a proper restaurant attached). I don’t mind the milling people—I manage to weave my way around them all with bags full.

Midafternoon and Tim’s brother arrives and we have a cup of tea and catch up—he’ll be sailing with the rest starting Sunday.

Tim texts—they are getting close, just in East Cowes . . . I take my perch on the roof terrace to see the finish. I see a couple of other Contessas ahead, and then finally Coh Karek sailing beautifully to the line with two boats near, just feet away. I have to admit, I yelled something silly like “Go, go!” but there was no one else nearby. She finishes 7^th, edging out Contessa Connie in the end by 30 seconds. Connie is owned by our friends Mark and Kim, so a friendly rivalry indeed.

Drinks follow at the Island Sailing Club (ISC) for the Contessa class—jackets required for the men, and I wear a dress for the occasion. We head up to the top terrace for champagne and canapés. Some disappointment that members of the ISC who are not Contessa owners are taking up tables and eating chips. We remark but only to ourselves, not to them, and chat about the day, chat with a few of the other boat crew, and sip bubbly between bites of some nice finger food. It was not the most social event—most crews weren’t there and those who were tended to stick together, rather than mingle. The lack of space to move around likely contributed to that—we have been to other Contessa gatherings and they are generally a good, if not competitive, lot to socialise with. Those who were there were anticipating the Red Arrows, who were scheduled to fly over at 7:30. I brought a camera, hoping to get one or two shots, though you can imagine how fast these jets fly!

And I must say, there were spectacular. Breathtaking, even. It is simply amazing how tightly in formation they fly, so close to each other, and then suddenly the planes veer off  in opposing directions only to come back together again, and perfectly. I think most people enjoyed it when two of the craft were seemingly heading directly toward each other, at great speed, and as they were just crossing each let out a coloured trail that was a single perfect line when joined—that’s how close they were.

Jake, Dominic, Tim E at the ISC party

Some of the Red Arrows

After the show we headed back home to have Tim’s chilli con carne—made the night earlier for a quick heat and serve. As usual it was delicious—a thoroughly satisfying day for the crew! In the evening we decided to head out to Cowes Yacht Haven to see what was going on—I stayed behind, preferring to just relax.

 The week is young!

Spectacle

That was the first word that came to mind this morning as I watched the boats gather in the Solent for the start of the 80^th Round the Island race. Imagine 1,908 boats sharing space near the start line, trying to perfectly time their scheduled kick-off. There are several starts, in fact—the crew of Coh Karek had a 7:10 start in the “blue” class with the other Contessas competing.  I read there’d be 16,000 sailors in town—the high street last night starting at around 6 pm certainly had its share of them. We found a table at one of the pubs, the Peer View, just under the awning (and good thing as it was drizzly) and the crew talked a little tactic—who would man the foredeck, who would navigate, etc.

This morning I took up my favourite seat in Harbour House, binoculars in hand, to watch her and the other boats go by my window as they headed toward the Royal Yacht Squadron where the canon would fire about every ten minutes to start each of the classes. Last year Tim and I headed down (at the ungodly hour of 5:30 am) to watch first-hand from just behind the cannons; this year, Tim competes with his own boat, having a completely different vantage point (and getting slightly more sleep—he was up at 5:40 and out by 6:00)! I thought to go down to the RYS to watch some of the starts, but with the wind whipping the flags and sails in a  grey and dull and slightly damp dawn, I was cognisant that I still haven’t shaken off this cold, which has dwindled to a cough and dry throat but is nonetheless still persistent and annoying.

The view now, as the clock shows 7:15, is a little different—it’s clearer, a bit brighter, and the only boats I see belong to the “green” and “purple” classes, which must have the last two starts. Most have at least one sail up; some are powering toward the start line on engine. There is no doubt a skill to trying to get as near to the start without going over when you’re sailing—you can’t stop dead in the water, and with so many boats around you, well, as a non-sailor I think that must be tricky.

I felt a bit like a sailor last weekend, though—maybe it was just the waterproofs head to toe, but I did manage to sail (rather than ferry) back to Cowes from Lymington last weekend with Tim and Dominic. I took up a post behind the tiller and simply watched the world go by. It was a three-hour journey, with some good wind and a lot of cloud cover.  I didn’t do much in the way of helping—Tim asked me once or twice to thread a rope, though mostly I tried to stay out of the way as they tacked or jibed, Dominic pushing the tiller while Tim winched to get the sails to fill.

I sound very nautical, don’t I? I am in fact enjoying the slow learning process. I have no desire to race, but would like to continue to cruise and learn enough to be useful. Let’s face it, in Britain sailing is not for the weak—it’s mostly cold, often wet, and occasionally “lumpy”; it ain’t a catamaran on the Med with bikini-clad girls and bare-chested boys taking in the sun! I think there’s some middle ground where you don’t love it but you don’t hate it—it can be thoroughly enjoyable as long as you can stay warm and dry. I think that’s where I’m comfortably sitting at the moment.

And comfortably seated I am, this morning, as now there are just a few sailboats in the distance. Round the Island is in full swing, all classes heading toward the Needles, perhaps the larger boats already beyond and at St Catherine’s Point. I expect the crew of Coh Karek will take 11 hours to finish—in fact at dinner last night with the crew, we bet a pound each on what time she would finish:  captain Tim gave the longest prediction, for 7 pm and I chimed in 6 pm; the others chose from between 5 and 6:30. I’d love it if Ben’s prediction—the shortest—rang true, but I suppose the more important number here is where Coh Karek finishes . . . top half would be lovely!

Time will tell!