In the "Sailors confess" series, we confess our stupidest sailing mistakes. But we are also keen to hear your confessions. Send us your text, if possible with pictures, to mail@yacht.dekeyword "sailor's confession". If desired, publication will be anonymised.
New territory on old boats
A few years ago in autumn, my wife's uncle invited us to sail a regatta with him. His boat, the "Alte Liebe", is a cruising boat modelled on a fishing boat. The gaff sails are set on two wooden masts. The hull is made of steel, all the spars are made of wood, including the jib boom, which is the subject of this sailing confession. All in all, a very beautiful, seaworthy ship.
The other participants were also modelled on a wide variety of Dutch workboats. From black and rustic to lovingly and colourfully painted with gilded figures on the attached rudder blades, all sizes and shapes were represented. Most of them had centreboards. One boat had a piano on deck.
Eels man on deck
On the water, it turned out that, traditional ship or not, everything actually works in exactly the same way as on conventional cruising yachts; with the small difference that everything is duplicated: not only are there two masts on the "Alte Liebe", there are also two halyards for each sail with Klau and Piek. The dirk is also duplicated (four times in total) and also fulfils the tasks of a kicker and the lazyjacks. There were a total of 36 single-coloured beige lines on deck and in the cockpit. I still had the easiest job on the tiller (what a misjudgement!), which ended in a carved eel's head.
Each day of the event had a different course across the Grevelingen Sea. On the second day, the fateful one, the course was to lead along various islands, in the Grevelingen archipelago there was then the opportunity to earn extra points through special manoeuvres under sail, after which the course led to Bruinisse to the finish.
Slow is Pro
Things went really well at the start. The race the day before had welded our crew of four together, everyone knew their job and we sailed through between the islands of Dwars in den Weg and Stampersplaat. We took every centimetre of height with us and after the passage we were able to drop off at the designated fairway buoy in the direction of the Grevelingen archipelago. Once there, mooring manoeuvres under sail were to bring us the additional points we were looking for. The archipelago consists of three small islands with many jetties, of which we chose the best one for our manoeuvres.
However, there were several factors that complicated the manoeuvre: the "Alte Liebe" has a considerable turning circle even with the eel head tiller fully laid down, plus there was a rather narrow manoeuvring space between the islands and, of course, the jib boom. No problem at all, I thought. So with a clear wind and as much speed as possible between the islands, because the slower the boat, the larger the turning circle. Then rudder hard to starboard, sheets loose - and we starved to death just off the jetty. Too slow, too careful. With no speed in the ship, a nasty leeward wall situation arose aft with an island piled up with stones. So we quickly backed the jib, turned the bow out of the wind and slowly picked up speed to leave the archipelago and try a second attempt. But this time with enough momentum!
Neatly threaded
So pick up speed, put in the rudder, release the sheets and hold on. The jetty was chosen in such a way that I didn't have to push off at a right angle, but almost alongside. I thought that this would allow me to simply lay a little more rudder with too much momentum and let the "Alte Liebe" run alongside the jetty or, in the worst case, sail past completely. However, two decisive factors were missing in this consideration: the water stay in the blind spot in front of the bow and a cleat on the jetty. Because now, on the second attempt with more momentum, it looked really good for our mooring manoeuvre, I put a little more rudder on, we only had very little speed left in the ship and suddenly: Crash! Splinter! The furled jib was suddenly dangling loosely over the foredeck and the jib boom was hanging somewhere between the jetty and the boat. After a few seconds, which were necessary to understand what had happened, it was clear: I had got caught right on the cleat with the water stay and despite very little speed ahead, it had simply broken off the spar at the bow! How embarrassing!
After the necessary clean-up work we sailed on, I don't remember whether we tried another mooring manoeuvre. At least that would have been easier without the water stay and jib boom. In the evening at the prize-giving ceremony, there was even a special prize for my material-intensive mooring manoeuvre. And luckily the owner wasn't angry with me. On the contrary, he was pleased that I had taken a decision off his hands: he would now install the original and significantly longer jib boom. I had only broken a piece about a metre long. The original spar is almost three metres longer, but can be raised for harbour manoeuvres. A crucial detail that makes harbour manoeuvres easier but (hopefully) also provides less material for a sailor's confession.
