Confederacy of a Dunce - Cowes to Lymington and then back again

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

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This past weekend was the warmest of the year so far, so how could we resist a friend's offer to take us sailing on his boat?! It's not exactly a small boat so it was with a small amount of trepidation that we joined in. We got up on Saturday at a reasonable hour and took an air-conditioned train to Southampton (fortunately not the fictional one), then a high-speed ferry to Cowes on the Isle of Wight, and finally a little putt-putt of a water taxi across the River Medina to East Cowes (we could have taken the chain ferry/floating bridge instead) where the fine vessel BUGLE is moored. We were joined by a few of Sea Captain's cow-orkers (something in the Money business, I don't really want to know. Fortunately they were fine company and there was a minimum of sneering in my direction), and after hardly any preparation, we were off.

We chose perhaps a less than ideal day for our sailing trip, as the Round the Island race was going on at the same time -- something like 1700 boats all heading around the island and directly toward us (at the narrowest point, no less). So we decided instead to go against the tide (but with the wind) and head west, for Yarmouth (island) or Lymington (mainland [if you can call England "mainland"]; if you follow the Lymington link let me add [sic].). Fortunately one of our fellow sailors had plenty of sailing experience, so he and Sea Captain took care of all the details related to sails and ropes and the like.... Or so I thought until I was handed the tiller and told "Steer it straight". Well, it was a little choppy from all the ferry and powerboat traffic, and I was still getting my sea legs (OK, really I was petrified with fear and holding onto something solid for dear life), so my attempts at steering were not entirely useful. But soon enough we were underway, most of us lounging around the boat in the sun, sipping cold drinks, watching the other boats and mostly just relaxing. Despite my difficulties in the early stages I was passed the tiller again, and found driving much more to my liking as we cruised along. It was really easy going, mostly about 5-5.5 knots, and after a few hours we made the decision: Lymington it was.

I gave up the driving duties as we motored into the marina. It was especially crowded and we provided a great deal of entertainment to the locals, as first we attempted to thread between parked (docked?) boats, then tie onto a buoy without a boat hook (fortunately the other experienced sailor was also a rock climber, so he hung off the front of the boat like a monkey to tie on, and a fellow boater came by with a dinghy to help out). Then do it again, moving to an entirely different buoy as our mooring was in especially shallow water and we feared that we'd be left in the mud when the tide went out. But if you think that's funny, then we had to get to shore. Sea Captain's inflatable dinghy, however, was not exactly up to the task of transporting seven (7) people, being suitable really only for one at a time (two if they are very careful, being sure not to leave the grain alone with the chicken OR the chicken alone with the fox). The first crossing saw the passenger's trousers fully soaked, and the rest of us quite unwilling to get in. Fortunately one of the amused locals took pity on us and lent us a larger dinghy which we used to cross without further incident.

We had dinner at the Bluebird Restaurant, reviewed here but that review hardly gives an impresion of just how good it was. I think all of us ordered from the "specials" board which featured loads and loads of fresh, local seafood (I am drooling as I write this [Yes, more than usual]). I had a super-healthy deep-fried Brie as a starter and then a monstrous crab thermidor; Mrs. Dunce had gravidlax and then, errrr, some sort of fresh fish. All of it was fantastic, and those of us who had desserts (unfortunately not either of the Dunces) raved about them even more. Two of our number were staying on land, so the remaining five trooped back to the dock with devious plans to "borrow" a better dinghy for the return voyage to the BUGLE. But it was not to be, as we'd left our return journey too late, and only our own bedraggled inflatable remained. Somehow we managed to do it and stay dry, ferried one at a time (first taking the chicken to the boat, then the fox, bringing the chicken back, taking the grain to the boat, and finally returning to bring the chicken across). We all slept on the boat without incident as far as I know, and got up to a bright, bright, bright early morning.

And then we were off again, sailing into the wind. For the first couple of hours, against the tide as well, which meant that we made very little headway (on our first trip across to the isle and back we gained about 200 yards). Mrs Dunce and I served largely as ballast, scrambling across the boat during the tacks, moving to the high side for balance as we were consistently leaning about 25 degrees (it's probably not much but it seemed like quite a lot). Of course I counted the number of tacks -- I'm fairly certain it took just about 16 to get back to our starting point of the previous day. When we weren't tacking there was plenty of time to lounge on the boat and enjoy it. There seemed to be a lot more boats in the water, although perhaps it was just because we were tacking against the wind and thus crossing many more potential paths. But before long it was finished, so we docked, cleaned up the boat and came back the way we had come.

It was a great way to spend a weekend but there is definitely some post-sailing suffering. Despite vigorous application of sunscreen, I have a few nasty burned spots (knees, tops of feet), and poor Mrs. Dunce has discovered that she has a very nasty sun allergy. We're both on the mend, though, and ready to do it again.

travel

Tuesday, June 21, 2005 1:31:10 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)