Running with the tide

I just had a conversation with my eldest sister about her continuing treatment for cancer, and I used the phrase that the tide has been running with her.

She knew exactly what I meant—her progress so far has been amazing when eight months ago it seemed all a bit dire, and though some cancer still remains and more treatment is to come, there is no reason not to think that she will not recover, and that the tide will bring her to a safe harbour.

It gave me pause that I even used such a phrase—perhaps it’s the influence of spending time by the sea where the tide dictates so much activity: when to sail, and where, and for how long:  the optimal journey is when the tide is on always on your side.

Before living part-time in Cowes I never cared about tide tables much, and now I find I seek out  high tide times to plan my walks; there’s such delight when the waves brought on by the high tide splash  the Solent over the Parade making adults and children giggle when the water hits the pavement and, occasionally, a passerby.

I am in Cowes listening to the rain hammer against the windows while Hurricane Irene is moving closer to my family and friends in New York and New Jersey.  I realise I am, at least a little, homesick. There’s stuff going on with my family, and I’m feeling like the outsider looking in rather than a participant. I don’t know that anything would be different if I were there, but there’s a slight uneasiness to not being able to influence a situation because of physical proximity. It’s a big ocean that separates us. We all recognise the power of a face-to-face meeting to a Skype one, though the latter is, as the Brits like to say, brilliant.

I don’t think my longing for a bit of home is because I missed the earthquake—I clearly recall the one in 1985, and I’ll tell you why—it was the 19^th of October, the morning of my (first) wedding. It was a 4.0 magnitude, and I did feel it and am certain that I joked that the earth moved under my feet on the day of my wedding . . . which ended in divorce not quite 10 years later (his idea, not mine). 

I doubt it’s because there’s a hurricane coming to my home state—I remember a few of those, too, and am not anxious to experience another, although, I secretly enjoyed being in Cape May, New Jersey, for more than one nor’easter—even seeking them out by driving the 70 miles or so south—where the water was just ferocious, with huge waves that crashed well beyond the beach and washed the boardwalk clean.

We all have our moments of feeling a bit out of kilter, not quite running with the tide. Best to accept the feeling, take a deep breath, be thankful for what is good about life and, eventually, get back in stride. I may not be running with the tide at this moment, but in hours it will change, and so will I.

Do I owe you news from the end of Cowes Week? Coh Karek finished 10^th in her class, of 12 Contessas, and the crew agreed it was all a wonderful week of sailing. There were handshakes all around (as men do) and promises of sailing again in next year’s regatta. My own take: I was glad to have experienced it, and thoroughly enjoyed the company, and of course the parties—we’ve scored yet another Mount Gay Rum red cap by queuing up early for one; now if I can only find last year’s! Mornings were leisurely, with breakfasts cooked by any number of different crew who were happy to take to the frying pan for bacon and eggs.  

In the end it was a bit of an exhausting week for what was meant to be a holiday for me, and I will likely give some thought to what next year holds. I’m secretly hoping the races start earlier so a morning person like me can begin her day some time before 11! To be fair, I could have just got on with it even with crew sipping tea and reading one of three papers that we had each morning (FT, Guardian, Telegraph), but it didn’t seem quite right, and, I did have plenty of time to myself while the sailing took place to stroll the high street or watch events from the shore.

And since then it’s been mostly time spent in London—a nice change of pace, actually, to sit in the garden or as Tim and I did explore a bit of the city we hadn’t before. We took a short trip to Putney (home of David Clegg, deputy PM, and St Mary’s church, site of the Putney Debates in 1647 where a group of radicals advocated changes to their constitution to give more power to the people . . . an oversimplification, perhaps, so if you’re interested go here).

We also briefly followed the sculpture trail and took a short walk along the Thames Path, watching as a few rowing clubs oared within shouting distance—we could see that some of them were in costume but never did determine why there were men in ladies’ costume and, I think, Smurfs. It was a mixed-weather day, and we found ourselves in a pub called The Rocket, with a view of the Thames, to wait out the raindrops before the sun came out brightly again.

Perhaps there’s more I should catch you up on--Tim will be disappointed that I haven’t captured every event we’ve done together—LOL--but I’ve been feeling a bit uninspired about giving the “blow-by-blow” of restaurants, events, etc.

I think, for now, I’ll just run with the tide, until I find my footing again about what inspires me to come back to post.

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!

Reefer Madness

Roller reefer, that is.

What?

Tim’s boat had an unfortunate incident with the roller reefer, which simply aids in getting the sails up and down. The bit at the bottom was worn, likely due to age, and the sail wouldn’t stay put. That’s landlubber language for a disappointing finish on Monday when it first happened and on Tuesday when the crew had hoped that the wind and course would mean not too many sail changes. They are in the second half of the leader board—but there is still more sailing.

It’s a gorgeous Wednesday morning—WSW winds, temperatures in the mid teens (that’s about 65 in Fahrenheit)—and Coh Karek has had part of the reefer replaced so she can compete. On board are Tim and his two brothers, Dominic, and Tim E. Having not made it to the start line on time, they will cruise today, and hopefully race tomorrow. Probably some disappointment among the crew, but likely a consensus decision that if you start out behind and are unlikely to make up the time it’s better to retire from the race and enjoy a day’s sailing.

So what am I up to? I am surprised it’s Wednesday—I feel like I’ve not done much during this holiday. Tim asked me last night if I was enjoying the week, and I hesitated. I think it’s because the day starts so late and I’m a morning person, ready to get out and begin the day when in fact none of the races start before 11:40 so the crew is here idling for a bit, getting to the boat about an hour before but up at around 7:30. We have a leisurely breakfast—eggs, bacon, brown bread, coffee and tea. Tim E shares his Guardian, Tim’s brother his FT. We read the paper, emails, books. Tim will check the weather, the tides, and the wind. There is often some discussion of who will take which position on deck. Occasionally there is talk about what to get for lunch and whether to make tea in the Thermos rather than having to make it on the boat (yes, there is a hob and a kettle).

At the appointed hour the crew heads out and I think about what to do next. Sometimes it’s the mundane—run the dishwasher, start a load of laundry, review what we need in the house that runs out of stock quickly, like butter and milk and loo paper.

I always walk the High Street—just for the exercise, but also for the people watching and being a part of the Cowes Week scene. I have also made my way toward Gurnard, to the west, for a longer walk, though it is crammed with walkers, dogs, prams, and stalls. Yesterday the most popular of them was the Talisker tent, where there was free whisky to be sampled I walked down to the western part of the beach to watch some of the extreme sailing—40-foot catamarans racing close to the shore and extremely close to each other. It’s quite exciting to watch, but the commentators yammering over the loudspeakers are a bit over the top with their enthusiasm. The crowd is bigger than last year, and stretched out more along the beach.

Every day I’ve paused for a cup of tea on the roof terrace; I like the view, the quiet. And I always seem to find my way back to my comfortable perch on the second floor where I have a view of the boats either finishing or coming back to the harbour after the race. I always look for which Contessas are coming in first—always Blanco,  owned and skippered by Ray Rouse. Blanco has entered Cowes Week regatta each year for over 20 years and has won 7 times, each with the same skipper and crew of six, including last year. Tough to beat, clearly. After seeing Blanco I anticipate that Coh Karek should be not long behind.

Tim seems very happy to participate, though disappointed that the reefer caused them to not finish well in the last two races—expectations perhaps falling a bit short of reality. (He’ll tell me what he thinks after reading this!) He is such a gracious skipper, thanking everyone for their help and for an enjoyable sailing day, no matter how Coh Karek finishes. I have enjoyed meeting them at the pub to hear them talk about the race—what  went well, what could have gone better. I’ll admit it, I’m a poser. I wear a Coh Karek polo shirt and I sit at the same table in the pub, and look to be part of the crew rather than a WAG. Yesterday after a very long day’s sail they went to the Union Inn, just outside the Island Sailing Club’s launch where ribs bring the crews back in from their moorings, and I was on the roof awaiting the Black Knights, who were preparing to parachute in the sky above . . . and I was thinking to myself, you know you don’t belong there so why are you disappointed you weren’t asked? I smile.  Truth be told the conversation continues well into the evening and there is something to be said for letting the crew have their wind-down Shandy and relax together!

(Shandy: beer and cider, generally, of equal parts. Lemon soda can be used instead of cider.)

Tonight is the Royal Ocean Racing Club do at the Royal Yacht Squadron—the most posh we get during the week, where the gents wear jacket and tie, the ladies dress in lovely frocks, and we stand on the lawn overlooking the Solent with our glasses of champagne and occasionally have a chat with others. Last year there was a quartet playing under the marquee and Dominic and I decided to dance, hoping others would join us. They didn’t, and we didn’t care.

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!