Adrian Morgan
CRAFTSMANSHIP
CLASSIC BOAT OCTOBER 2016 43A
fter years of contented sailing aboard Sally
with my partner and sometimes our pointer,
Bran, during which we have ranged from the
inner Solent to the Outer Hebrides, avoiding as far as
possible gales, shipwreck and above all arguments –
the game’s nearly up.
Alas, it is an all too common phenomenon that, for
every matching Helly Hansen-ed up couple working in
harmony aboard a boat, there are ten grumpy old men
on their own, or accompanied by grumpy old friends
cruising about scratching their (thinning) heads as to
why their partners have forsaken them.
It wasn’t the crash gybe off Alderney in the fog, and
the terrified screams. Or heaving up the fouled anchor
in Swanage when the air went blue. Or worse, that
horrible silence when the navigator misread the tidal
atlas and condemned them to five hours stemming a
vicious ebb, or grounding within sight of the marina,
and missing the final episode of Downton Abbey.
No, it’s the call of the herbaceous border.
Whatever the cause, it is a depressing fact that, with
notable exceptions, cruising as a couple tends to become
less prevalent as the years pass. It did not help in thoseearly years shouting “pull the damn thing, don’t push it”
nor did a cavalier disregard for some of the niceties of
civilised life: “What’s wrong with a bucket? If it was
good enough for Tilman...”
Some couples never get past that first time out. Those
reading this, about to take fiancée/girlfriend/boyfriend/
daughter/son sailing for the very first time, read carefully:
when your world begins to jiggle about and take on a
highly alarming angle it will feel as it would to the
inhabitants of a Hampshire village unexpectedly struck
by a minor earthquake. That is, terrifying, and soothing
talk of “...a huge ball of lead underneath us” will not
assuage the terror; only sitting under a tree in an area not
known for earth upheavals will. Which suggests
adopting a gentler approach to the dubious pleasures of
sailing than you, who are used to a boat’s leaping and
crashings, can ever imagine.
Having overcome any natural desire to jump
overboard and head for dry land, your partner/son/
daughter etc, will with luck and patience begin to gain
experience and, if you take it carefully, even a love for
the pastime. And for a good few years you will enjoy
happiness afloat. You will voyage to foreign shores,
the Gambia, Caribbean or even up the Fal as far as
Truro. A shared trust will develop in each other’s skills.
For example, I have seen, believe it or not, recently a
cruising yacht dropping anchor with father at the bow
and daughter at the helm, such have been the
remarkable advances in gender
equality in recent years.
However, the day will come. It will
creep up gradually, as weeds overcome
a once well-tended cabbage patch. The
signs will become hard to ignore.
Magazines other than the usual sailing porn will land on
the door mat, with Alan Titchmarsh, not a 1923 cutter
on the cover. Discussions about “where shall we take her
to this year?” will fall on reluctant ears until The Scillies
or Poole are mooted. The Faroes, Holland, Brittany are
met with muted enthusiasm which has more to do with
the fact that Tresco and Inverewe have world-class
gardens, by which time the penny will have dropped.
Sailing has been usurped: by gardens. And soon, when
all the gardens within striking distance of a secure
anchorage have been visited, the next stage will kick in:
gardening pure and simple. The cabbage patch will need
weeding, and the roses, the lawn and the hardy
perennials have been neglected too long. Saturdays are
destined to be spent at the garden centre.
This by no means applies only to married couples.
Sons and daughters can be tempted away by all manner
of modern and centuries-old distractions: girls, boys,
computer games, football, shinty, cello lessons. But it is
the threat of gardening that, dare I say, is the strongest.
The solution? Accept the fact; cherish the memories, pick
up the phone and call a friend. Just don’t get grumpy...
It’s just the way it is.Growing green fingers
It seems the call of the herbaceous border is hard to resist
“Has the
penny
dropped?
Sailing
has been
usurped”CHARLOTTE WATTERS