The wondrously full (and occasionally over-full) days of the southern hemisphere summer have faded gently into autumn. Yesterday the late afternoon light actually seemed to make the breeze-swept cove sparkle. I couldn’t resist and decided to forget about a desk full of paperwork, a book project needing editing and to head out for a quiet sail on Felicity. With the help of Ross West, a fellow cove dweller[1], I have added a tiller extension (hiking stick) which lets me sail her singlehanded now Larry’s advancing Parkinson’s disease keeps him ashore. This was only the second time I had sailed Felicity without having Larry or a friend on board to hold the helm while I got her under way and hauled up the sails or sheeted in the headsail. Felicity was on her mooring where I’d moved her to give visitors easier access to our jetty. This definitely made it far easier to get under way than when she had been lying alongside the jetty – just double up the mooring rope and lead the two ends to the foredeck cleat, hoist the mainsail while she is head- to-wind, un-cleat both ends of the mooring rope and lead them aft until Felicity turns almost downwind, ease the mainsail, let go of one end of the mooring line and pull the line in while the boat gathers way. Then I wove my way past a dozen moored boats towards open water where I would have room to let her do as she wished while I hoisted the jib. The man on one of the boats I skimmed past called out, “sweet boat, looks like fun!” I noticed his boat’s hailing port was almost 800 miles to the south. “Welcome to North Cove, wander by and say hello when you see Felicity back on its mooring,” I called.
Among the amazing assortment of overseas visitors we had this summer was Ashley Butler with his lady Holly Latham. We have known Ashley ever since, as a 17 year old, he offered to be an apprentice to Larry. He has gone on to be an amazing wooden boat builder. This photo is from the porch of one of my neighbors homes. To get there I have to climb 230 steps and walk about ¾ mile but the view and company make it well worthwhile.
My pride got the better of me once I realized someone might be watching. I wasn’t sure how sloppy I’d look as I tried to get the jib up and pulling. So I ran onward under mainsail alone until I had rounded the high headland which shelters the cove. Then I prepared to hoist the jib. Just as I’d expected, the minute I let go of the tiller, Felicity snapped up into the wind, her mainsail flogged, the hanks on the jib jammed on the turnbuckle. But once I got it up I grabbed the tiller extension and reached off across Kawau Bay, an island studded five mile by five mile stretch of water that provides wonderful gunkholing. About half way across the bay I needed to take a pee. Glad this occurred when it did because that lead to another learning experience since I couldn’t steer and solve my physical problem at the same time. “Okay, let’s try heaving-to,” I said out loud. I tightened in the mainsail, hauled the jib to windward and let go of the tiller. Felicity slowed right down, then tacked through the wind, tried to bear away, then slowly headed up, tacked again. Though this wasn’t perfect, the motion was slow enough that I was able to solve my personal problem. That done, I was almost ready to ease the jib and begin reaching off again when I decided to take a page out my own book, The Capable Cruiser from the chapter called Sixteen ways to Keep Your Lover–
Ashley and Holly couldn’t believe they had run away from an English winter and were not only out sailing on Felicity, but diving into tropical temperature waters once they anchored her.
Remember everyone is looking – What to do? Until you’ve both gained confidence, avoid entering marinas during peak hours. If possible, anchor out in clear water until after dark or until the wind eases. If you are planning to anchor, forget trying to find a spot close to shore, where it is crowded, and anchor farther out, even if it means a longer row ashore. Then find some time during the week when fewer eyes will be around and practice docking, anchoring, and mooring procedures without the spectator pressures …..
Though my memories are of wonderful summer weather, we did have several very windy days. I stopped at the overlooking Orewa beach 15 miles south so another of my summer visitors, my sister Boni Masculine, could take some photos.
I looked around, no boats in sight, the nearest house at least two miles away. For the next hour I just messed about reefing the mainsail by rolling it around the boom then seeing if Felicity lay quietly hove to with the smaller mainsail and backed jib – not perfect but she lay quietly enough that I could consider this configuration if I wanted to stop for lunch. I tried changing the way I lead the main halyard to see if I could figure a way to steer and hoist at the same time (didn’t get that one figured out yet.) I played around with ways to tie the tiller so the boat would hold a steady course on its own. I fumbled about quite a bit, learned several ways not to do things, a few ways that worked. To an outsider I probably would have looked out of control. But I did gain a bit of confidence as all I had to think about was the boat, not about who might be watching. Best of all, when I noticed the sun was beginning to get low and it was time to head back, I realized I had been having fun.
Tuna, the 75 year old harbour tug, is owned by Jill Hetherington, one of my neighbors and we often head over to the Kawau Boating Club together for a late afternoon drink.
As I reached back into the cove I was slightly disappointed to see the folks on the visiting boat had taken their dinghy and rowed off. But within minutes of sailing up to the mooring and securing Felicity, John and Patricia rowed alongside to spend the next hour talking of places we’d each cruised to, their goal of spending the next month’s exploring the waters surrounding their own country. Yes, an altogether good afternoon and a reminder of why I like the quiet pleasures to be found under sail.
May you too have a pleasurable days on the water
Lin
The wharf at the Kawau Boating Club is definitely a great place to watch the sun go down.
P.S. Those of you who have read As Long as It’s Fun, Herb McCormick’s bio about Larry and me, know, our first lovely cutter Seraffyn was named after a modern day Welsh Troubadour – Seraffyn Mork. A few days ago I had a unexpected note on facebook which read:
Dear Lin and Larry,
I’m Seraffyn Mork’s niece. Yesterday I revisited the Play It Again Max page about his LP and saw your post. I had to laugh. In the past few years, when I googled “Seraffyn”, most of the results had to do with your boat. I always found this frustrating, having absolutely no idea that the Seraffyn had been named after my Uncle Donnie. I’ve only read a little bit about your travels, but you are so clearly kindred spirits. Seraffyn would be delighted to be a part of your amazing journey.
Today I found your October 2013 Newsletter. You mentioned that you’d only seen 1 picture of him. I thought you might enjoy these videos of him performing –- home movies shot by my Dad, Phil Mork in the mid 1950s. Dad recorded the sound on a reel to reel tape recorder, recently my brother Peter was able to put the 2 together.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJcdwTHCoos
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CsgH-w82jY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQRqVcaOMBU
Thank you for continuing Seraffyn’s adventure!
Alison Mork
Until I received Alison Mork’s message on Facebook, this is the only photo of Seraffyn’s namesake I had.
P.S.S. Today I just finished a big publishing project, getting the 25th Anniversary Edition of Larry’s Details of Classic Boat Construction ready to go to the printer. Thies Matzen who has owned and sailed Eric Hiscock’s Wanderer 3 for almost 30 years and 300,000 miles wrote a new introduction to the book. Paradise Cay is offering a special pre-publication discount for orders before June 1st.
[1] Rather than risk splitting the relatively thin timber of the tiller by attaching the tiller extension fitting with screws, Ross built me a handsome metal attachment which I then lashed to the tiller. Very smart looking and strong.
