Yesterday evening was more calm and drier than most weather of late. Across the plain, a disused airfield, the sky was colourful. Lit and textured like a child's crepe paper stained glass christmas decoration. Yellow glowed through textured blues and greys, a celestial candle in the West that sank slowly towards a wooded horizon as I approached.
As storm "Gertrude" dances in the North of the kingdom we are spared her gratuitous violence, merely swooshed and swished by her skirts as she whirls up there. The trees in the garden shook this morning; some in apparent mirth, some in anger and the birds kept to cover.
Friday, 29 January 2016
Thursday, 28 January 2016
Trouble with waking
Fake dawn, moon lit, seeped through the curtains at five. The quiet gave it away and I checked the time, tried to remember how to sleep and lay there past the rattle of the first commuter train. Some time slumber crept back, relaxing the muscles' unaccustomed aches from Wednesday night badminton, until I woke. The arm stretching out for the alarm stabbed; sore shoulder, a touch of tennis elbow.
Floods mostly dissipated had left dampness which had frozen on the street and cars. Stabbed again as I scraped to the hum of warming engine and the blower trying to clear the glass. We joined streams of warming cars queuing for no reason but each other; flowing in and out of towns beneath the broadening pale blue.
Floods mostly dissipated had left dampness which had frozen on the street and cars. Stabbed again as I scraped to the hum of warming engine and the blower trying to clear the glass. We joined streams of warming cars queuing for no reason but each other; flowing in and out of towns beneath the broadening pale blue.
Wednesday, 27 January 2016
The trouble with sleep
Too much chicken, too late, after a stressful day at work. My mind and guts wrestled the night away to the accompaniment of rain falling on stuff and wet stuff blowing about the garden, rattling windows, trying the doors and gates and driving trees to wild frenzy.
The village had grown about 20 acres of lake by morning and the journey to work required fording. I found a new waterfall.
The village had grown about 20 acres of lake by morning and the journey to work required fording. I found a new waterfall.
Wednesday, 13 January 2016
Wet, mild air gives way to the 15 billion light-year stare
On Monday the edge of the new moon sank in the evening sky like the golden torc of a dead Viking, diving in the sea; like a spark of red-hot iron hammer-struck from a wrought edge; like the retinal burn of a whirled brand in the night. Afterwards the pure starlight condensed to crystal ice on the glass and steel structures. New quilts' mettles tested; no mourning for their geese.
Wednesday, 30 December 2015
Mild Cobweb Removal
With winds forecast a little slacker than of late, we thought to test the new winches and blow out the slightly stuffy feeling of Christmas yesterday. Seven or eight weeks since we last hauled sail and we felt rusty, resorting to check-lists and talking ourselves through the regular procedures of preparation. All smooth except setting out for a minute without cockpit instruments.
We motored up to the wave barrier and wound a few turns of genoa sheet on a shiny new port winch before the Southerly leg of the river set the genoa to flapping, when we furled again, not thinking to raise the main until we turned East. Head to wind briefly and then blown off again with a full main, a little constricted by the tight jacks. Waves from the South-West looked about force 4, foamy crests that rose and fell, but these steadily gave way to a swell and crests tumbling; a little fresher than was expected.
Reminded that we were testing winches I hauled out the genoa on the port side again, but on the beam reach we had set to take us slightly up-tide this just put the port gunwale in the water. We looked at the conditions, we considered the possibility that the forecast was even less accurate than it seemed and decided that once across the Solent and back on the main would be enough. Our roughly repaired ensign was not taking the breeze well and had to be stowed. On the port tack home the tide was evident, drawing us West as we tried to line up the river-mouth in the lightening conditions. We swapped from main to genoa for a stately trip up the river, making 5 knots on part of the small sail.
Furled and back on engine for the harbour we danced with the ferry which was avoiding a yacht coming down with the flow. We moored facing the opposite way to normal at the second attempt. Mooring facing up river leaves the stern open to the prevailing winds and these have been rather wet recently. We hope for drier bilges.
Quite a blow; quite a test after not sailing for a couple of months. Here we are between Christmas and the New Year wearing the gear we usually wear in the summer, perfectly warm and comfortable. I didn't even put my boots on, wearing light deck shoes without socks.
We motored up to the wave barrier and wound a few turns of genoa sheet on a shiny new port winch before the Southerly leg of the river set the genoa to flapping, when we furled again, not thinking to raise the main until we turned East. Head to wind briefly and then blown off again with a full main, a little constricted by the tight jacks. Waves from the South-West looked about force 4, foamy crests that rose and fell, but these steadily gave way to a swell and crests tumbling; a little fresher than was expected.
Reminded that we were testing winches I hauled out the genoa on the port side again, but on the beam reach we had set to take us slightly up-tide this just put the port gunwale in the water. We looked at the conditions, we considered the possibility that the forecast was even less accurate than it seemed and decided that once across the Solent and back on the main would be enough. Our roughly repaired ensign was not taking the breeze well and had to be stowed. On the port tack home the tide was evident, drawing us West as we tried to line up the river-mouth in the lightening conditions. We swapped from main to genoa for a stately trip up the river, making 5 knots on part of the small sail.
Furled and back on engine for the harbour we danced with the ferry which was avoiding a yacht coming down with the flow. We moored facing the opposite way to normal at the second attempt. Mooring facing up river leaves the stern open to the prevailing winds and these have been rather wet recently. We hope for drier bilges.
Quite a blow; quite a test after not sailing for a couple of months. Here we are between Christmas and the New Year wearing the gear we usually wear in the summer, perfectly warm and comfortable. I didn't even put my boots on, wearing light deck shoes without socks.
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
a cosine of the times
Feeling our way out of the river mouth, we operate on a wide range of frequencies from the VHF happily monitoring a calm Channel 16, through the ultrasound measuring the mud, the slightly unsteady throb of a single cylinder diesel powering us out to where the breezes flow, the ebb and flow of tide and the seasonal variations of sun elevation and temperature.
Our path is governed, as usual, by tidal planning. We follow the water or, with the wind's help, hope to lead it. A trip East, to a few yards beyond our furthest excursion that way to date and in to another river where the flow turns with our course and leads us up to a first cluster of moorings. Here we lunch and watch geese, disturbed by guns and dogs, circle nervously.
As flood slows and the natural outflow of the river asserts itself there is a brief rush of small craft who had been waiting for this moment and we join them; passing the river marks in reverse order to the mouth and a swell that lifts and drops us in a new rhythm.
Down-wind this time but still following the flow home, wind dies and we bob along, beating the tide by only a few metres. We stop at our neighbour port for a night, eat well, walk inland to see the sights, wait for the fog to clear and then, just for fun, make 10 miles of the 2 mile journey home.
We follow these oscillations, making our own on the way, but ultimately we follow our hearts, our breaths before the cycle closes.
Our path is governed, as usual, by tidal planning. We follow the water or, with the wind's help, hope to lead it. A trip East, to a few yards beyond our furthest excursion that way to date and in to another river where the flow turns with our course and leads us up to a first cluster of moorings. Here we lunch and watch geese, disturbed by guns and dogs, circle nervously.
As flood slows and the natural outflow of the river asserts itself there is a brief rush of small craft who had been waiting for this moment and we join them; passing the river marks in reverse order to the mouth and a swell that lifts and drops us in a new rhythm.
Down-wind this time but still following the flow home, wind dies and we bob along, beating the tide by only a few metres. We stop at our neighbour port for a night, eat well, walk inland to see the sights, wait for the fog to clear and then, just for fun, make 10 miles of the 2 mile journey home.
We follow these oscillations, making our own on the way, but ultimately we follow our hearts, our breaths before the cycle closes.
Wednesday, 14 October 2015
Cooler than warm
Everywhere I go I find myself watching the trees, drinking in the colours of leaves gently turned towards the fire end of the spectrum. Horse chestnuts have had a bad year with disease and seem pleased to shrivel their canopies to brown arthritic hands; brittle. Maples and Oaks are tinged with oatmeal or bright berry shades, often in patches where a branch has been caught by the season, leaving contrast with the still green remainder. The car-park hornbeams are yellow above and still verdant below; lemon iced.
The car glass has been mopped for more than two weeks already, but this morning the roof was traced with coral fans of ice crystals that spread onto the wind-shield, since I was parked the wrong way and the morning's warmth could not work its melting act.
We re-launched the boat on Monday, trying to calmly eat some sandwich while the hull was lowered once more into its natural environment. We never doubted that the re-assembled sea-cocks would seal, nor that the stern gland would accomodate its new cutlass bearing without a leak, but it was good to check and to take a deep breath before trying to tie to our new mooring up the river. Polishing that hull, standing on the hard on Sunday, we caught some sun.
The weather has turned a corner (as the wind has, literally turned) bringing cold nights and bright days that don't breach the curtains until 7am and by now, at 7pm, have faded to grey. We are excited to be able to sail again, but are thinking of warm socks and boots, scarves and cocoa and bracing breezes.
The car glass has been mopped for more than two weeks already, but this morning the roof was traced with coral fans of ice crystals that spread onto the wind-shield, since I was parked the wrong way and the morning's warmth could not work its melting act.
We re-launched the boat on Monday, trying to calmly eat some sandwich while the hull was lowered once more into its natural environment. We never doubted that the re-assembled sea-cocks would seal, nor that the stern gland would accomodate its new cutlass bearing without a leak, but it was good to check and to take a deep breath before trying to tie to our new mooring up the river. Polishing that hull, standing on the hard on Sunday, we caught some sun.
The weather has turned a corner (as the wind has, literally turned) bringing cold nights and bright days that don't breach the curtains until 7am and by now, at 7pm, have faded to grey. We are excited to be able to sail again, but are thinking of warm socks and boots, scarves and cocoa and bracing breezes.
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