Book 2, Chapter 48

Saturday morning I changed the engine oil and the filters for both fuel and oil on Bill’s boat, Molly. Admittedly Bill was there the whole time giving me instructions but he did make the tea and I did complete the job. Sitting in the cockpit drinking our tea Bill questioned what I had against engines.

“They’re not fixable and that doesn’t feel right. Organic things I can sew or stick; metal I can bolt, screw or even weld thanks to Ian but if an engine or bit of electrical equipment breaks I know I’ve had it unless I have the right replacement part.”

“We did mend engines with things to hand more often when I was young but then they broke much more frequently! The world has changed but we haven't changed in our trying to bend it to our will; we just do it differently now. When you sail from Plymouth I promise that what can't be fixed with the materials and spares you have on board will have a backup system to see you through to your next port.

I took off my gloves and holding my palms away from me inspected my nails allowing Bill a look too. “Pretty good considering this morning’s work but we’d better make sure I have a ton of nail care products aboard.”

“Feeling pretty good about yourself today aren't you? I think it's time for a sailing exercise by popping over to Uphill and back. You plan and execute the whole thing and I’ll be your passenger and cook.”

“When?”

“We can leave tomorrow, or as soon after as you decide for the weather, and take as long as it takes. I've already okayed it with Isaac and your sister as they haven’t any urgent work they need you for. That means we don't need to hurry back and all the charts and tide tables you need are here aboard. Now it’s time for me to get back to your Gran’s for lunch and I’ll expect a call from you later.”

Anywhere else in the world but the Bristol Channel would have been easier for me to have my first experience of skippering and in effect, if Bill just cooked, single-handing. Cardiff was limited by tides to when we could lock in and lock out but Uphill although only 12 miles away, was a port out of history. Now a few yachts were kept there but in its heyday schooners would sail up the river at high tide; sit in the mud being loaded with stone from the nearby quarries and then leave when an incoming tide floated them free. To arrive at Uphill near high tide when we could get up the river meant sailing against the tidal currents then coming back the currents would have turned against us once more slowing us so much that, sailing direct, the tide would be out at Cardiff and we would be unable to get into the lock.

My first thought was that it was impossible and much mental gymnastics only improved the voyage to being arduous and dangerous as I considered a meandering course to get the timing right. It wasn't until until I was in the middle of a tango with John at dance class that the solution hit me. I wasn't an old-timer sailing for a living with time pressing; sailing for me was a choice and to be enjoyed as much as possible. Straight after class I phoned Bill and said, “Pack your walking boots, your fishing gear and your glad rags because we are overnighting at Uphill with stops at Flat Holm going tomorrow at 9 am and again on Monday's return trip to be home about 6 pm.”

I shared my plan with the gang at the Student's Union that evening and Serena was all for driving round to meet us at Uphill until Evan reminded her that she was already pledged to drive him to Swansea for a rugby match. Philip swore that he would be there with his camera to record our departure in the morning and, if I phoned with a time, our return on Monday evening. Easy for Philip to say at the start of a Saturday night (minus Jenny who was away in Birmingham modelling for a fashion show at the NEC) but he proved true to his word.

Sunday morning Bill picked me up at 8:30 and was somewhat surprised to find that Beth and I had already been out for a run. In the back of his truck he had, beside his bag and fishing gear, a rope ladder and
drying legs for Molly, for which he apologised.

“It’s such a good opportunity that I phoned a friend of a friend and we have permission to go ashore at Flat Holm if you want. The anchorage there isn't somewhere to leave Molly unattended but we can let her dry out on her legs if it’s calm so she’ll be safe while we wander.”

“Sounds like fun which is what I want from this trip. I had no idea it would be so difficult to plan.”

“If you can sail here you can sail anywhere. What have you planned as a backup to Flat Holm?”

“Weather isn’t a problem today according to the BBC radio and we can heave-to † if there is too much swell by the island. Tomorrow morning we don't have to leave Uphill if the weather turns and we have the same option of heaving-to on the way back.”

Good to his word Philip was waiting for us at the marina and gave a hand with the extra gear so that we caught the falling tide as we motored SSW out of the seaward side of the lock and I could set about raising the sails as Molly gently motored down the channel under auto-pilot. With just a 10 - 12 knot westerly breeze once her sails were raised I span Molly through 180° back toward Philip to give him a good shot of Molly under sail as in my time watching Jean Luc film I'd learnt that those eye-catching shots don't usually happen by accident.

Turning Molly again I kept her on a southerly heading parallel to the coast while Bill payed out a lure on a handline behind us. I had no idea what he expected to catch but the morning was perfect and Bill had a broad grin on his face so my course to Flat Holm was meandering to give him 2 hours fishing before I dropped anchor off Jackdaw point on the East coast of the island. If this had been Sint Maarteen in the Caribbean I might have risked anchoring under sail but as it was I doused the sails and inched in under motor and, it being low tide, anchored in no more than 8 feet of water where it felt as though we could step ashore we were so close.

“I believe that merits lunch,” Bill offered holding up the small bass with which his efforts had rewarded him.

I'd brought a book to pass the time but after lunch when I settled to read and Bill to fish I nodded off only woken maybe an hour later by the noise of Bill landing a fish. The fish was a nice cod but it was also time to leave and I felt guilty for sleeping with no alarm set in a vulnerable anchorage. To make up for my dropping off to sleep I grandstand end. Without starting the engine I took the anchor warp to the stern (using chain and rope rode this was easy) and let the light westerly breeze take the bows downwind before hauling the light anchor aboard and unfurling the jib. Only when clear of the island did I bring Molly round putting the wind on the beam (sailing on a reach) to make it easier to raise the mainsail before turning once more downwind toward Uphill.

It wasn't far and the breeze was light but I already had the engine running when with relief I spotted the buoys marking the channel into Uphill. In my earlier imagination the onshore breeze and current was going to leave me helplessly stranded on the marshes when the engine failed to start. The channel was winding but clear so that an hour before high tide we took a berth by a floating pontoon where on the phone on Saturday, the berth manager had assured me that Molly would dry out more or less upright as in this berth the keel would sit in a vee-slit in the mud. Having the drying legs with us taking precautions seemed sensible so I asked Bill’s help to set up the legs as I'd heard of boats appearing to dry out upright only to suddenly fall on their sides when the tide was out.

It was surprisingly easy and when nothing was said about dinner I thought that I would have a shower in the nearby campsite facilities then turn in for an early night but Bill sprang his surprise taking a smart jacket and trousers from his bag.

“You said glad rags so I hope you brought something suitable to wear as I've booked dinner and tickets at the Playhouse Theatre in Weston-super-Mare.”

What's a girl to do? After showering and returning to the boat I sent Bill up to the marina office to hold the taxi when it arrived and went into action. Even though I'd never been a girl guide I knew their motto, ‘Be prepared!’ and I was, thanks to Litara’s crumple resistant emergency standby. When it comes to making an entrance regardless of the occasion, nothing beats a little black dress.

† Heaving-to is a way of slowing a sailboat's forward progress by fixing the helm and sail positions so that the sails oppose each other. As hove-to the boat does not have to be actively steered it is commonly used for a "break"; this may be to wait for the tide before proceeding or to wait out a strong contrary wind.