Friday, 5 August 2016

The first time, revisited?

Nikki is not a sailor. She's been out in Calstar with us once before, and has proven she doesn't get seasick or in any way anxious when the boat gets thrown about. And she's capsized a dinghy with me at Frampton to raise money for the dog rescue, so she doesn't panic when she gets wet.

But she is not a sailor, and doesn't know a warp from a halyard, a clew from a tack, or a jib from a mainsail. She is fantastically good at craft-work, knotting string and wire, but wouldn't know a bowline from a clove-hitch, or how to make fast a warp to a cleat. She doesn't know port from starboard, but then again I've been known to have trouble with that on occasion.

And she doesn't do jumping around.

That said, I'm pretty confident I can put the boat where I want her in most circumstances, and am fairly sure I could manage her single-handed, albeit that I don't have very much experience at Calstar's helm when she's under power because Dad always takes that spot.

He doesn't do jumping around either.

Nik says she's more than happy to spend the week in Swansea; getting away is the objective here. However, she wouldn't object to sailing, can hold a rope if I tell her too, and am pretty certain I can teach her how to tie a bowline and make fast the aforementioned warp to a cleat.

I would like to get some decent sailing in over the week. I'll confess to feeling pretty daunted by it though. If Calstar sat on a swinging mooring somewhere like the Fal, it would be entirely different, but around here the tides take absolutely no prisoners and give no quarter. In a way, despite the fact that I'm a fully grown-up adult and have been for a while now, the idea of casting off without Dad feels a bit like "the first time" all over again.

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