Yesterday we were back on board Hearts of Oak to take part in the around Walney Island yacht race, a race that takes place once a year. The idea is that participants gather in Walney channel, just north of the high level bridge, seen opening in the photo. This bridge opens very rarely these days, and as it's the only way on and off Walney which causes much frustration and resentment amongst the residents of the said Island. Still who were we to care about that, having a big bridge open for your yacht is an event. Sadly my smart phone camera decided to go all unsmart on me and record the momentous event as a rather fuzzy image. No matter, here is a record of our classic schooner plying its way through flat, nay mirror calm waters on our way to the exciting start of the race, just the other side of the bridge. Once on the other side the only way back to our mooring was to be a 20 mile sail around the island, out into the Irish sea before making for our home port at Roa Island. And then it started to rain. A gentle rain that fell from a silver grey sky, a blanket of mist shrouding the distant mountain of Black Coombe barely visible some 5 miles north. What vesper of breeze there was, was heading due south across our bows as we edged up to the start with about eight other boats, a couple of cats, a little tri maran and the rest of us in monos. We were about to head off almost due north into the teeth of this barely moving body of air. And then the wind died completely.
The 5 min horn sounded to signal that we all shut down our engines and all went quiet, including the surface of the water. With the tide almost at full flood we all drifted aimlessly, with sails aloft, barely moving, except for the push of the tide towards the start line. When the horn went to start the race the cat next to us was facing backwards. In the 20 years of doing this race it was the first time he had started backwards. None of us were making way, and there fore had little or no steerage. As the tide pushed us across the line we waltzed around each other barely avoiding collisions and fooled ourselves that we may have caught a slight breeze. The waters remained mirror calm, this was not going to be a day for records to be broken.
About half an hour into the drift, and without any instruments to plumb the depths beneath Hearts of Oaks keel we made a decision to start our engine to avoid a collision with the slag bank that was a little to close for comfort. This would void our entry in the race, but with our chances of winning, or even coming in the low numbers we all decided that we were in it for the sail, more than the race. So with the rain still falling we motored into the mists and around the north spit until we reached open water where we finally cut the engines, and debated whether the dog walkers on the nearby beach were gaining on us or us on them. For about half an hour we reckoned we were neck and neck.
At about this point, Misfit, a 25ft home made cat overtook us and raised her spinacker which barely filled, but caught enough of what little wind there was to leave Hearts of Oak behind. Now out into open water, but with hardly more than a slight swell we swore we could detect a slight breeze building. Behind us, Pendragon also raised her spinaker, it wouldn't be long before she too caught us. This called for some creative sailing from the crew of Hearts of Oak. We already had the mainsail sheeted right out but the jib and staysail fluttered limply, so we improvised. Out came the boathook which Brian and I rigged and lashed to pole out the staysail, and without doubt this gave us a bit more drive, Pendragon started to fall back. There was now an almost perceivable breeze as we broad reached at about 2 to 3 knots along the Walney coast. The day race was going well, time to get out the ukelele and strum a few sea shanties, and eat lunch.
For the next 3 hours we made good progress, and the breeze stayed light but steady, the skys still heavy with cloud and the occasional shower, but on board the mood was cheery as we approached the south of Walney lighthouse. We were now heading into the ebbing tide and our speed had dropped to zero, in fact we decided we were now going backwards. Time to fire up the engine once again and head for home. The next hour proved rather uneventful until we were passed by one of the big service cats coming back from the wind farm. She threw up such a huge wake that had Brian, who was at the helm exclaiming that he felt he was in the southern ocean as we surfed down the enormous wave that shot passed us. And then it was flat calm again, but just for a moment we were touching ten knots, scary.
By the time we found our mooring it was about 6 o'clock. It had been a great day, with that little touch of danger at the end to wake us all up. Hearts of Oak had completed her circumnavigation of Walney and the crew had performed admirably. We slipped her onto her mooring, boarded the dingy and headed for home with a tale to tell.