sail 4, for the year
Comfort must not be
expected by those that
go [dinghy sailing].
Lord Byron
My choice to run new jib sheets had significant outcomes for today's sail. Too many wraps prevented the sail from fully furling, & it once out it wouldn't refurl. This meant that anchoring, reefing & returning to the ramp would be difficult. But, a bonus of the endless jib sheet system, was that tacking a breeze. Date I say comfortable? Another bonus, not really paid out today, is that easing sheets when overpowered, can be carried out from the windward quarter.
The sailing was easy, and with the new steering system, the boat could be managed easily while staying seated in the stern. Bliss!
Yet as any outdoorsman can testify, your next discomfort is only a brief sail away. As we headed south through the main body of the irrigation water impoundment we encountered weed. Long strings of brown streams forming a reef-like structure. The call of "all hands" went up before the skipper was advised that: "The weeds was progressing from a great depth sir". "Stand down" the Mate bellows & the men gave an uproarous cheer for the good ship.
Soon after the Navigator draws attention to the ship's retarded knot making & her drift to leward. One of the old Jack Tars lets go with fear about a Monster having gripped our centreboard. "Avast" cries the Mate "get that man below & administer a ration of rum. It only be weed holding us back m'lads". He orders the helm down & backs the sails. Again, a cheer goes up on the merry ship as all hands see great wads of the weed drifting away to the depths. The proud little ship feel away a got a bone between her teeth once more and the men fell about cheering & chuckling on the deck. The Helmsman ordered a man aloft to keep an eye out for shoals of weed.
Through the afternoon the wind did wax & wane and swing more to the east than previously. With sails sprung we had good fortune to steer a course further up river. However, as we rounded a bend in the old river the man aloft cries out, drawing attentions to a great forest of trees that must have been drowned by the original flooding of the valley. The prospect of our hull being stoved in shook any romantic notions of river exploration from the crows nest. "Ready about" was the call. As we made heading to the north & east, challenged a little by the breeze, we cast out eyes about the bay. It was a good place for the anglers stalking timid little fishies, but 'twas no place for a careful skipper & crew.
The sailing here was excellent, managing the sheets while seated at the helm was very comfortable. With the helm lashed the skipper went forward too the water jug for a draft of the stuff & noticed the heading drop away to leeward. But the skipper gave a ready smile knowing that no fair ship of her size could be expected to sail herself, that being the happy task of the sailor.
Before closing the ramp, the headsail furler needed attention. With the hook set, refreshments were laid out for the crew while a rigger went ahead to address that problem. He later reported you the skipper that the fairlead eye had snapped off.
"Aye eye", says the skipper. By the slipway a small dog took to the leg of the rigger's apprentice. But being an upbeat lad, especially after a grand sail, he shook it off with a laugh, but bade the broad bodied wench that accompanied the mongrel that if the little shit tried it again he may have a marlin spike shoved through his tiny skull. With his shrill threat still ringing in the air the crew fell about with uproars of laughter. cloThes miner's daughter gathered up the mongrel, held him close to her vast breasts & waddled off no doubt to generate further mayhem elsewhere.
The skipper bade the lads to curb their bawdy ways & made a crack about the cat for any tar that's late for the off in seven days. Three cheers went up, the ensign was furled away & everything was made fast for a few days shore leave.
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