Here Comes Summer

Well, I managed to get some wi-fi in the coffee shop across the road from our holiday apartment, so here I am reporting to you from wonderful Salcombe in Devon. For anyone who knows Salcombe, you’ll know that it’s a very snobbish and ‘okay-yah’ kind of a place. Everyone has too much money and everyone drives around in cars that are too big and expensive (everyone who is visiting here that is – I’m not talking about the locals, if indeed there are any). Everyone wears either Fat Face, Weird Fish, Musto or Henri Lloyd clothes (these labels are the sailing world’s equivalent of D&G, Versace and Jean-Paul Gaultier and nobody would be seen dead in anything else). Foolishly, I came here without any shorts (I packed in a hurry) so I’ve been out to buy a couple of pairs at Fat Face – now I’m as trendy as everyone else and don’t need to feel ashamed of my normal attire which is invariably 'George' or 'Cherokee'!

Anyway, the weather has been terrible since we arrived. Yesterday we had gale force winds and relentless, driving rain. All sailing was cancelled. Today, the wind had reduced to a manageable blow so, despite the continuing rain, we set off for the start of the race. When we left the sanctuary of the harbour, we realized that it was still blowing old boots and we were getting horribly wet and uncomfortable. The boat was almost out of control at one point. I was wishing that I were somewhere else, but didn’t dare say so to my fellow crew member (there is a certain kind of macho bravado attached to these events). Imagine my relief then, when I spotted that we’d rigged the spinnaker incorrectly and therefore rendered it impossible to use safely. The pole downhauls were the wrong side of the mast, and the halyard was the wrong side of the jib sheets. Ha! These things cannot be resolved at sea, so we had no choice but to retire from the race. I can’t say that I was too disappointed – it was most horrid out there.

And then the sun reappeared after an absence of two days, and we were sitting on the deck of our apartment eating lunch. Our deck overlooks the harbour, so from our vantage point we were able to watch our more competent (and perhaps more courageous) friends return from the race. The legendary Tom Stewart (yes, he who also succeeds in National 12s) won the race outright. At this point, we felt that we were really in Salcombe at last.

After a pleasant lunch we went out on a motorboat to watch the afternoon race. It was still blowing old boots as we followed the race and - very grateful that we weren't out there sailing - we watched some spectacular capsizes. Masts were broken, spinnaker’s were shredded, rudder stocks were smashed; it was all huge fun (even if a little scary).

Tomorrow is another day and we have re-rigged our spinnaker (correctly) in anticipation. Tomorrow we are sailing in the afternoon race and hopefully the weather will improve a bit so that this time we shall at least make the start line. In the meantime, I have to attend to the little question of opening a bottle of delicious red wine. Ah, holidays are so enjoyable.