What with advances in technology, modern weather forecasts are at least 100 per cent accurate, if not more. And although dog walkers, keen gardeners, leisure sailors and anyone who goes outside may contest this, it is backed up irrefutably by the science, as I can prove. For example, when they say it’s going to rain it does, and to the very minute, as if commanded by some higher being; and when they say the wind will be northeast force three it will most certainly be, beyond any possible doubt. It is not the fault of meteorologists if dog walkers, gardeners and sailors happen to be in a different place from where the weather’s actually happening, or on a different day. In other words, it’s the weather that’s right and us who are wrong. 

The other problem with the weather is that there’s just too much of it, but thankfully now that the BBC has ditched its longwave transmission of the shipping forecast, there’s a little bit less. The resulting reduction of anxiety is worth the licence fee alone, and if only they’d also can the shipping forecast, particularly the one at 05:20, the whole nation would sleep more peacefully and be more on-side with the recent licence fee hike.

When I first started sailing there were only two weather sources I relied on. One was the three-hourly Channel 16 VHF announcements, which told you to go to another channel that was either silent, buzzing with interference or occupied by motor boaters asking each other where France is and what time the duty-free wine warehouse in Calais closed. 

Of course, these days there are myriad phone weather apps that allow you to choose weather suited to your liking and temperament. Though they’re all unerringly accurate, there is a spectrum of opinion among Maldon’s waterfront sages in the Queen’s Head as to which is the best; this is not dissimilar from the range of views on which greyhound-cross is the ideal lurcher for hunting, legal or otherwise. Those with a sunnier disposition tend to favour Wind Optimist, while those who spend more time in the pub swear by Wind Pessimist.  

It is, however, wooden boat sailors who are most keenly attuned to the weather. This is because before you go sailing you have to varnish your boat every spring, on a day without rain or sun in a temperature range between 11.7 and 12.3 degrees Centigrade and relative humidity of 40.3 to 41.2 per cent. This year that occurred between 2 and 3.15pm on the third Tuesday in April amid a frenzy of activity, as that’s a relatively narrow window to varnish and sand seven coats. Unfortunately, as some people were sanding while others were varnishing, a fight broke out. 

I avoided the fracas by varnishing the mahogany surround of the barometer attached to the bulkhead of my own wooden boat. Barometers, it should be explained, are operated first by tapping, followed by tutting, because whatever the needle does it’s bad news. If the needle falls that means rain and/or wind; a quick rise after low is a sure sign of stronger blow; and if the needle doesn’t move, it’s broken. Thus, a barometer not only measures pressure but creates it. Indeed, one of my heroes, Blondie Hasler, who came second in the 1960 solo trans-Atlantic race, eventually threw his barometer overboard because he realised there was nothing he could do to outrun the oncoming weather. 

When it comes to weather forecasts, and whether or not to go sailing, I rely on local oracle Adi, our boatyard manager, who not only tolerates berth holders, but is less keen on the ones who actually try to move their boats. Adi is in effect a one-man nautical care-in-the-community programme, whose range of advice services encompass everything from anti-fouling and anodes to unusual rashes of an intimate nature, or, as he terms it: “saving you lot from yourselves.” 

In my case he’s done it countless times, which I think may be something he regrets. Typically I’d ask him something like: “I’m thinking of going to Brightlingsea, what do you think?” He’d study the sky for a minute – possibly to avoid eye contact – and then say: “Go for it, Dave, you’ll be fine.” And to be fair, he’s never yet been wrong, as I haven’t died once, even though I’ve never encountered anything less than a Force 7 north-easterly. When I asked him if this was always the case, he replied: “No, Dave, it’s normally a 9 or 10 – I told you I was saving you from yourself.” That just made me appreciate all the more how lucky we are to have Adi’s kindly forecast guidance, knowledge and infinite wisdom. I did go out in a Force 3 once, but Adi was on holiday that week. 

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The post How to Read the Weather: Dave Selby’s Secret Sailing Forecast appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

They’re in danger of becoming devalued, and if you suspect I am referring to the old, small, wooden boat I am trying to pass on to new ‘custodian’ and that I’m using this column shamelessly to push the Vertues [sic] of classic boat ownership, as my old friend Roger Robinson claims, you’d be right.

Seems like the bottom is falling out of little wooden boats, so to speak, for reasons I can imagine, but cannot fully understand. Why would one not aspire to be the guardian of a fine collection of firmly fastened lengths of timber, of the quality boatbuilders can only dream of these days? Why would one not want to spend hours with a scraper, sandpaper and finally – after many hours – a varnish brush of finest badger bristle every spring? Why, lastly, would anyone prefer to be polishing a white wall of fading glassfibre, a slave to the latest miracle gel, guaranteed to restore the shine to even the most jaded of hulls?

I have seen at first hand the effort, cost and skill needed to have your glassfibre hull cut and polished by a professional, compared to the simple, quick pleasure of applying a top coat of Hempel’s Polar White to a wooden topside. It also takes a lot longer than you think; sprucing up glassfibre, that is.

I’ve long banished any thought of perfection when it comes to looking after an 87-year-old five-tonner. Life is too short. Leave that to the crew of those mighty Fifes poncing about the Mediterranean regattas, pampered under umpteen coats of Epiphanes, and every surface swathed in the winter with bespoke canvas. What satisfaction you get from working on your own boat comes from knowing every inch of her. At the risk of repeating myself, it is only when you have cast your hand all over her bottom that you can truly feel bonded with this extraordinary, precious maritime artefact that might, if you are intrepid enough, still take you safely around the world, to the admiration of all. Or if less intrepid, down channel to Falmouth where, I can guarantee you will find those who will ask you the age-old question: “What is she?” followed by: “She’s very pretty.” Followed by: “I bet she’s a lot of work”, to which you reply: “Well actually, no.”

But they won’t believe you. Wooden boat owners are at risk of losing the battle to convince the sceptical. The future belongs to a material that promised to be indestructible and unlike most promises, turns out to be true. That picturesque fishing boat on the shore, paint flaking, whose ribs and a section of deck are providing endless photo opportunities, will in a few years have all but disappeared into the mud leaving just a few Instagram-worthy bones reaching poignantly into the sky.

Meanwhile, that abandoned 1970s cruising yacht, brown-stained and growing mould, head lining peeling, will be the subject of endless town council meetings as to how to contact the owner or find someone to buy or dispose of it, without harming the environment. This is a tough ask. Your little old wooden boat is quite content to retire into the mud, her lead keel and every scrap of bronze long since looted by the ever-present gang of mudlarks or vultures, aka wooden boat owners, on the lookout for that rare Simpson Lawrence windlass or galvanised bottle screw. And there she will lie, possibly to catch the eye of a penniless dreamer, whose hopeless ambition will be to restore her or, more likely, the lens of a wandering photographer, Canonius peregrinus, whose brooding composition will win second prize in Practical Photographer, or even, dare I say Classic Boat, because romantic shots of deteriorating wrecks are always popular, as are whitewashed croft houses (or Highland cows) in the windows of Highland art galleries.

The only hope then, for those looking to pass on their irreplaceable boat – well, not for less than £100,000 or more, if you can find the timber – is to let them go for a song, to one of a dwindling band of kindred spirits, someone who will appreciate what they have and, one hopes, be as adept as you have been to lay on another coat of varnish next spring.

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The post Is Owning a Wooden Boat Worth It? Adrian Morgan’s Classic Boat appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Put the issue of mousing to a bunch of dockside mariners round a pub table and as like as not Captain Blimp will insist that all hooks are to be moused on pain of the ship coming to a sticky end. He has a point of course, but what I’ve  discovered at sea is rather different. Received wisdom’s all right when hands-on experience is in short supply, but when you’ve had the chance to try a few alternatives, you find that things sometimes refuse to obey the rules. 

I’ve owned four gaff cutters and three of them have had halyard blocks fitted with hooks. The first was a 32-footer back in the 1970s. I moused all the hooks as I’d been told, and set off for South America. The trip was going so well as I rounded Ushant that I unwisely decided to leave my topsail up as the sun went down. The boat had a big rig and the topsail spread a significant area of canvas, extending the pole mast with a long luff yard. That night, as it happened, the sail was set on the windward side of the peak halyards with their newly moused blocks. It came on to blow a bit in the small hours and it was soon clear that topsails and darkness aren’t comfortable bedfellows. There was no moon and I’d no deck lights but it had to be dropped. It would need to be done by feel. 

If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have hove to on the other tack by simply shoving the tiller to leeward and leaving the headsail sheets where they were. Once way was off, the helm would be lashed to leeward on the new tack, the boat would have nodded easily into the sea with no hand on the tiller and the topsail would have been flying clear to leeward. I could let go the sheet and ease away on the halyard at my leisure while my mate controlled the downhaul to keep the yard more or less vertical as it came down. Even with no light, there wouldn’t be a lot to go wrong.

That’s not how it was. Instead of following this seamanlike procedure, I left my mate on the helm and struggled up the bounding deck alone. I let the sheet off, then tentatively eased the halyard. I knew what should be happening aloft, but all I could see up there was stars. Working the halyard with one hand while trying to maintain tension on the downhaul with the other, I’d won about four feet when the downhaul went tight. I gave the halyard a hefty tug to try and clear whatever was hanging things up, but the sail was stuck. Rather like the Grand old Duke of York’s ten thousand men halfway up the hill, it was neither up nor down. I don’t know how the Duke’s soldiers found this situation, but judging from the sounds and general flogging coming from aloft, my topsail was not having a good time. Action was called for, and it needed to be prompt.

For few seconds I considered climbing aloft to discover what was going on, but with the boat leaping along and the sounds of mayhem over my head, I gave up that idea in short order. Instead, I did what I should have done at the outset. I hove to, releasing my mate from the tyranny of the tiller. With two of us on the case and the boat stable, we carefully lowered the main and the topsail together. They came down readily enough, but the topsail seemed unwilling to let go of one of the peak blocks. I took a closer look, now with a torch in my hand. The topsail had got itself well and truly snarled up in the hook mousing which I had not frapped neatly enough. The wire had punched through the Dacron and caught it as securely as any fishhook going about its honest business.

We sat the night out as we were, then cleared up the mess at dawn. I thought about the mousings on the peak blocks, accepted that my wire-work might not always be perfect, and took them off. After all, the hooks would be permanently under load, so why would they let go? They didn’t. From that day I have never moused a hook that will stay loaded and after many ocean crossings I can look the man at the pub table in the eye and tell him there might be another point of view. 

This chain of thought was precipitated by events on my boat last week. In the tidy little Danish port of Lundeborg, I suffered an unwanted boarder by the name of Minnie Mouse. She announced her arrival on the following day’s passage to Svendborg by making a meal of a new loaf of bread. She had to go, and go quickly. Surprisingly, I thought, the Svendborg chandler didn’t sell mousetraps. ‘No call for them these days,’ she said glumly, but I unearthed a pack of three for £1.50 after a route march to an out-of-town megastore. I suppose you get what you pay for because they failed to spring two nights running, but the situation was dealt with on the third in an unexpected way. I had been softening some ancient leather in water to make up a chafing piece and the unfortunate mouse defeated all odds by somehow contriving to fall into the bucket. There, it tragically expired. We found it in the morning and committed its remains to the deep. My experience with mousetraps is limited, so perhaps I need the pub team to tell me how to get value from them but, as so often happens at sea, Providence stepped in to protect the innocent.  

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The post How Important is Mousing: Tom Cunliffe’s Top Safety Tips appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Sailors have long had a troubled relationship with water ever since biblical times when Noah failed his Day Skipper practical on tidal heights and got extremely neaped on top of Mount Ararat, only to be abandoned there by the rest of the crew. Frankly, they behaved like animals, which is not that unusual on a flotilla holiday.

And as for Moses, the so-called miracle of parting the Red Sea did earn him a pass as it  demonstrated a better understanding of tidal calculations, but suspicions remains to this day about whether the work was really his own. Remember, he’d just come down off Mount Sinai where a very tall and imposing figure with a booming voice and luxuriant white hair gave him some kind of tip-off. I don’t know exactly what Tom Cunliffe was doing up there, but whatever it was it took Moses ages to tap it on to his tablet. What really puzzles me about that is why when they already had tablets were later versions printed on reeds?

In the event Reed’s Almanac, which today is printed on paper, only encouraged more sailing on water, mostly with calamitous and embarrassing outcomes. Take Columbus, whose “discovery” of America involved confusing Cuba with India. I made a similar mistake once when I made landfall in The Hamble and thought I’d found Monte Carlo. It wasn’t just the mooring fees, nor the traditional costume of hedge-fund haute-couture. What threw me was the strange dialect, which was nothing like the King’s proper Essex English. When I said “ow much? You’re avin a larf, mate!,” they just shrugged their shoulders and went “pfff” and “phoo” with arms outstretched and palms splayed upwards. Call it intuition, but that gave me an idea and when I tried “Çòmbîén? Vôùs êtès fóùs, mátè!” one of them stepped forward and said: “Aah indubitably, I think we have a visiting yachtsman here. As deputy vice rear second sea lord of the Royal Asterisk Yacht Club founded ages ago in the olden days it behoves me to extend to you a most cordial welcome. I’ll have a page sign you in forthwith. Of course we’ll need to see your vaccination certificates and family tree – just a formality, you understand – but once you’ve quarantined for 14 days and we’re satisfied you’re not contagious or common we very much hope you will avail yourself of our facilities and buy us all a drink at the veranda bar – it’s members only inside, as I’m sure you appreciate, but we do have an umbrella at your disposal should it come on to precipitate. If you leave a £25 deposit with the steward he will provide you with the code to the umbrella.”

My point is that none of this could have happened without water, which is why Jesus tried to turn it into wine, and that in turn led to the establishment of Royal Asterisk Yacht Clubs all over the place as a means of drowning your sorrows… in preference to just drowning. Indeed, thanks to science and amateur experiments by Classic Boat readers there’s a growing body of evidence to suggest that water is the main contributing factor in 99.98% of incidents of boats sinking. In fact it’s probably even higher than that because the other 0.02% are Old Testament Gaffer’s who still insist with biblical zeal that a boat full of water is not sinking, but “taking up.” The story of Jonah is just one of countless examples, and I’m sure there’s another one.

Water for sailing on is variously categorised as short, steep, shallow, confused and mountainous, but it can also be hard. Hard water is terrible for washing machines and did even more damage to the Titanic.

As with everything else it was British ingenuity that provided the solution – by outlawing water altogether in 1655. Until then navy sailors had received a daily ration of one gallon of weak beer, but as it was diluted with water it was highly offensive to them, as well as unhealthy. 

In 1655 matters improved when the daily ration of watery beer was replaced by half a pint of rum of spectacular 95.5 proof (54.6% ABV). That’s an actual true fact, and though many sailors found it solved everything, it’s a wonder that the Royal Navy ever left dock, let alone once ruled the seas. 

An explanation of sorts was provided centuries later by solo circumnavigator Sir Francis Chichester, who countered aspersions about his aversion to having water on board by saying: “Any damn fool can navigate the world sober. It takes a really good sailor to do it drunk.” And that’s another true fact.

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The post Dave Selby’s Problem with Water: Drinking Alcohol at Sea appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Have you tackled bad weather at sea?

When will it stop? The wind, the wind! It’s August, mid summer in the Highlands, a time of gentle breezes, moist warm days and, OK, midges, absent largely this year as only a midge capable of flying upwind in a Force 7 westerly would stand a chance here (and also the reason perhaps why the East of Scotland is no longer midge free.)

The club’s summer cruise was more like what is traditionally the end of season storm cruise. Sally and I wisely ducked out of the thrash up to the Summer Isles, despite the welcome promised by their owner. Instead she lay on a pontoon in the new harbour until the berth’s owner required it for his own use. Actually the conditions weren’t too bad, until that is Sally was moved on to a mooring outside the harbour. As if on cue, the forecasts began to show gusts of 40-50 knots, and from the South, the worst direction for Ullapool’s anchorage. 

What is it about her that she prefers to lie to a buoy in a gale than alongside a fully serviced pontoon? This time last year, with her mooring in Loggie Bay snarled and unusable, we moved her to the harbour until it could be sorted. Again, within a day the forecast was giving storm force winds from the south east, of a precise direction – the only direction – to cause mayhem in the otherwise snug haven. I woke to find a video taken at 3 am, posted in the local paper, of the scene that night. There she was, hanging to the pontoon at a crazy angle. I knew the ropes would hold, as did the pontoon. But it’s not the kind of sight you wish to wake up to. It was back to Loggie as fast as possible. She likes it there. Even in a gale.

Humphrey Barton, Laurent Giles partner, he of Vertue XXXV fame, was once asked what he advised when faced with bad weather at sea. “Avoid it.” Only lifeboats on trials go out voluntarily when it’s ‘orrible. I like the story of Pete Goss, in mid Atlantic getting knockdown beyond horizontal, cabin windows showing green, sails flat in the water. Before getting round to righting the boat, he finds his camera to record the experience, in case it ever happens again. Now that’s coolness in the face of. But then he was in Special Forces, I believe. 

It reminds me of the time I managed to reach a friend by satellite phone on a yacht in the Southern Ocean taking part in a round the world race years ago. Reefed down, storm spinnaker up, they were charging through the night en route to New Zealand. Craig was his usual self, until he stopped me with the immortal words. “Got a bit on.” And the line went dead.

I didn’t speak again until he arrived back in the UK, and one of the first things I asked was: “what was ‘on’ and was it really a ‘bit’.”? Well no, he explained. At that moment the call had come from the deck that two small icebergs, close together, had appeared on the radar, and were just emerging from the murk, and that it would be a case of threading the gap between them, for to deviate to port would mean a knockdown, to starboard, a gybe. In 40 knots. I love the understatement of “a bit on”, and occasionally employ it when I’m preparing a meal that needs maximum concentration and the juggling of precise ingredients. Well, no, that’s a lie. I’m a Heinz All Day Breakfast type of cook. Mmmm! I can just taste the beans, egg and sausage (in the form of a Scotch egg) on a blue enamel plate in the cockpit of Sally, riding (at anchor) in a secluded, Highland sea loch.

My round the world chum, by the way, is also the owner of a venerable and slightly older Harrison Butler, winner of many a classic race, driven as she was meant to be: hard by a seasoned ocean sailor. We first met on board the yacht from which he spoke that day, Intrum Justitia, trialling headsails in the Solent. It spawned a small piece in this magazine under the headline “My other boat’s a Butler”, a title that infuriated the designer’s daughter, Joan Jardine-Brown. Too late to batten the hatches I faced the storm: “She’s a HARRISON Butler, not a Butler!”

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The post How to Face Bad Weather at Sea: Adrian Morgan’s Stormy tales appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

We caught up with the Boat Building Academy at the Southampton Boat Show, who were showing off some of their latest student led builds…

The Boat Building Academy offers world leading courses in to professionals, while also creating brilliant opportunities for beginners and enthusiasts. Since 1997, when Tim Gedge founded the Academy, this Lyme Regis (Dorset) based school has trained over 2500 people, helping them go on to work in the industry worldwide. 

The BBA offer a 40-week boat building course, a 12-week furniture making course, and 1-15 day short courses. The 40-week boat building course incorporates the City & Guilds Level 3 Diploma in boat building, System Engineering & Maintenance (Advanced) (2473-03), but it also reaches far beyond the basics, helping students to develop a wide range of skills and methods, both traditional and contemporary, to take them into their careers. The course runs twice through the year – one starting in mid-February 2025, and the next from the start of September – both with a 40-week duration and 2-week break in the middle. The BBA also offers bursary assisted places.

From the Founder – Tim Gedge

‘My concept was very much geared to people looking for a new way of life, in other words a sort of change of career, and it’s been hugely gratifying to me over the years to see the numbers of people we’ve had on the boat building courses, and more recently in the furniture making courses, who have actually been snapped up by the industry who are getting decent good jobs. I’ve bumped into three people just walking around the show [Southampton Boat Show] now, who’ve done the course, and thanked me for teaching them into their new career’ 

‘A lot of people… who have university degrees… come and get their job out of doing the boat building course that they’ve done – not using their degree… there’s a message there.’

Latest BBA News

The renowned ocean rowing boat builder Justin Adkin has rejoined the BBA team as Master boat builder.

After a time away running his own successful business, this winning skipper in the 2005/6 Atlantic Rowing Race will be teaching full time from January 2025 on the 40-week boat building course.

Will Reed, Director of the BBA said: “I am delighted Justin will be joining our brilliant team once again. His calm, unflappable character and wealth of knowledge and experience across traditional and modern boat building is perfectly suited to teaching students of all ages. He also has a great sense of humour and is a joy to be around.

“We are extremely proud of our brilliant team of tutors, who are selected not only for their exceptional boat building experience and ability, but also for their extraordinary teaching and communication skills.

“If anyone is looking for a career in boat building or would like to sign up for a hugely rewarding challenge for the sheer joy of it, they will not do better than with Justin and the excellent team of tutors at the BBA.”

Interested in taking a course?

Visit the Academy Website and Meet the team.

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The post Boat Building Academy: Comprehensive Courses for All appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

For convenience, moulding planes may be divided into two groups. In the first group are planes dedicated to shaping specific mouldings, each one profiled exactly opposite to the concavities, convexities, fillets and grooves of a complex surface. The second group is made up of the simple yet infinitely more versatile rounds and hollows, each iron profiled to the sixty degree arc of a circle and projecting by a sliver through its matching round or hollow sole. Rounds and hollows used in combination with straight-edged rebate planes can shape an enormous range of shapes and sizes of mouldings, from the subtle ovolo softening corners of deck beams to the massive crown mouldings looming from on high in a steam yacht’s saloon. 

A modicum of mouldings applied to a yacht interior adds visual and tactile interest to otherwise plain surroundings, framing flat areas and finishing harsh corners with a softer outline. The changing light of day reflected off water and falling upon a moulding creates shifting highlights and shadow, bringing yacht furniture to life. A spindle moulder ripping through smooth surfaces would get the job done in a trice, but working with a hand-powered moulding plane is like pulling a skiff across open water, adjusting your stroke to wind and tide. Instinctively the hands respond to a change in grain with changes in speed and pressure. 

Here we see an ovolo being worked in a length of oak. Unlike dedicated moulding planes the hollows and rounds are not guided by fences nor do they have depth stops to prevent cutting too far, so some preliminary work is required. The face and edge of the wood was scribed with a marking gauge (left foreground), then the flat-soled rebate plane (on its side, upper left) worked down to the required depth before planing a 45 degree chamfer along the arris; this last step provided two points of contact for the concave edge of the hollow moulding plane, helping stabilise and steer it. All the while the worker must keep the plane at the correct angle to the wood, gauging by eye when the moulding is done. 

Naturally this engenders minor variations (some might say imperfections) in mouldings but perhaps that’s not a bad thing as ever more making is delegated to the impersonal high-speed blades of automated machinery. 

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The post Guide to Moulding Planes: Boatbuilder’s Notes for Traditional Tools appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

You Can Steer a Tall Ship – By Ben Lowings

For all its popularity, there is a gap in the market for a book that teaches you the basics of sailing a tall ship. There are ‘tall ship’ charters, then there are the thousands upon thousands of young people who, for decades, have found themselves at sea on a tall ship, often through a charity such as Sailing Training International. This reviewer, similarly, once found himself shipping aboard a tall ship for a cruise of the coast of North Ireland. Did I know what I was doing? Not a clue. And it’s doubtful that the many who sail aboard tall ships every year, have much of a clue either. This is where this books steps in. As author Ben Lowings, an occasional CB contributor, puts it: “What is it like to lead a watch today on a square-rigger? How will you handle her as the wind rises? Learn the ropes, send the ship on her way, turn her round, and safely arrive in port…” Ben, although he admits to being a keen amateur in tall ship terms, is a commercially-endorsed RYA Yachtmaster Ocean Cruising Instructor, so he’s not exactly starting from scratch; which is comforting.

 And it’s not just a cold list of sails and lines and where they are belayed. The author is emotionally involved: “You may not have lived if you have not heard the sound a fully-rigged ship makes when sailing at sea,” he says. “The roaring vibration of the wind in the rig is at once eeriness and pure power. Tall ships are the most powerful way to sail. They sound with the thunder of the Bull of Bashan and a jumbo jet on take-off. 

The music they make under full sail will chill you and fascinate you forever.” Ben takes a would-be first-time tall ship sailor on an imaginary voyage full of practical advice, from packing for the trip, to making sure you know how to pronounce ‘topgallant’ properly, to taking the first tour on deck to marvel at the complexity of the equipment, to actually sailing. We even discover when the sun is actually over the yard arm, ie beer o’clock. It’s noon! Isn’t that a turn up for the books? This is a short, very practical guide, but told in such a way, and with the richness of folklore hiding behind every phrase, that it’s not one you’ll dread reading at all.  

Buy Now – £9.99

James Lawrence Sailmakers – By Jim Lawrence

Although it sounds a bit self-aggrandising there really could be only one title for this book because Jimmy Lawrence, who died before it was published, was known universally as the traditional sailmaker. With his characteristic cravat, 1960s side-burns and Italian-made winkle-picker shoes, Jimmy put the muddy Essex port of Brightlingsea on the chart for those seeking hand-stitched wings. The last time I saw him he was sculling across the low tide harbour of his home town and I assumed he was about to step aboard some smack or other to measure up her luff, foot and leach. “Hello, mite,” he said, in his bucolic Essex accent, like something out of a Bensusan novel, “gotta keep me hand in, Dick. Can’t turn the clock back, mite.” Jimmy had, in fact, retired and was having a work-out the only way he knew how.

With his Ted Heath-like grin and friendly manner, Jimmy re-invented himself as a sailmaker after firstly the demise of barges carrying cargo (the last freight carried under sail alone was in 1970) and latterly his opportunity of sailing them for charter. It was a shrewd move as there were few craftsmen left who could make ‘real’ sails and nobody was apprentice to the trade. It was not long before Jimmy had a bulging order book from the skippers and owners of the growing fleet of restored sailing barges, smacks and bawlies. This expanded into orders from square-rigged ships, such as the Endeavour, the replica of James Cook’s ship, in preparation for her circumnavigation through to classic yachts, such as the 59ft Camper & Nicholson, Marigold.

It’s partly technical: “A barge’s foresail is perhaps one of the most wondrous sails in the world. It is the only sail with a predetermined clew position and a fixed sheet, yet you marvel at its perfection in going to windward. It may lift little in the luff when very close-hauled, and yet wind abeam it still looks right and with the wind on the quarter it’s still very acceptable. Only when the wind comes right aft does the sail become useless.” The 176-page hardback also covers Jimmy’s life of sailmaking in anecdotes. This includes the heartbreaking job of seeing one of his square-sails blown to smithereens with cannon-balls. This was a replacement for the rotted canvas which had hung from the yard-arm of HMS Victory since Nelson died on her deck! Sadly, the sail loft in Brightlingsea has gone, merged into the bigger sailmakers of the Gosport-based office of Ratsey & Lapthorn. However, Jimmy did those of us, who still want a real sailmaker who can measure, cut and stitch by hand rather than computer, a favour: his apprentice, Steve Hall, has a flourishing loft, North Sea Sails at Tollesbury. I know because he visited my gaff cutter, Betty II, recently to measure up for a new staysail and jib, to match the mainsail he made when I bought the boat a few years back.

Buy Now – £19.50

There is No Second – B Magnus Wheatley

“‘The definitive account of the first race in 1851 for what would became ‘America’s Cup’” is a bold subtitle for a book that will share countless bookshelves with countless books about the Auld Mug, one at least of which, by Daily Telegraph journalist Tony Fairchild, shares the same title. Magnus is to the America’s Cup what Swifties are to their heroine Taylor.He has lived the Cup since a boy, saved the cuttings, read the books, and written and blogged extensively about this most enthralling, controversial contest between “friendly nations.”. Rather than rehash in his educated prose yet again the accepted view of that first race: that America wiped the floor with the opposition – leading to the phrase which Wheatley, in a fine piece of sleuthing, has tracked down to a signalman aboard the Royal Yacht – he delves much (much deeper) with forensic timings of sightings, tidal currents, hearsay, eye witness and newspaper reports (quoted at length), to arrive at some unpalatable conclusions, for America’s legacy at least. Was she the “rocketship”, the “sparrowhawk among pigeons”, or simply a fine, fast, seaworthy Yankee pilot boat, commissioned by a bunch of gamblers who scarpered with a small profit, and just one notable victory to their challenger’s name, albeit a name that has gone down in yachting, and sporting history?

To spill the beans would be to spoil the story; a story based on first hand accounts, newspaper reports and fascinating new research at Kew, where the royal yacht’s log books are kept. Crucially, unlike many of the books about the Cup, the author sets the socio-economic background at some length; in particular the ridicule heaped upon America’s exhibits at the Great Exhibition. Their eye-sweet “low black” schooner changed all that. The press, keener now to kick the establishment, went all out in florid praise of this dashing interloper, which had walloped a home fleet, and discomfited a yachting elite grown complacent in its assumption of superiority. There is much truth in that; America’s visit did shake things up, both on the water and globally. Wheatley even argues her courteous entourage, lead by John Cox Stevens, may even  have planted the seeds of the Special Relationship, one that in yachting terms became not so much special as acrimonious, right up until Australia II won the Cup in 1983, and beyond. Was there no second? To find out, read There is No Second.

Buy Now – £35

Prevailing Wind – By Thomas Dolby

You’ve seen Thomas Dolby before, sharing a stage with David Bowie at Live Aid in 1985. You’ve heard him too, through his countless solo hits in the 80s, and collaborations with big groups of the time, like Foreigner (Dolby did the catchy keyboard intro for I’ve been Waiting for a Girl Like You, for instance). You didn’t know, until now, that he’s a keen sailor and he’s just released a very timely novel about the America’s Cup. Of course now it’s 50-knot foiling machines, but in 1913, our fictional heroes are Davey and Jacob Haskell, two young fishermen from Deere Island, Maine, who are swept up in the extraordinary wealth of early 20th-century America, a wealth immortalised by such names as Rockerfeller, Aston and Vanderbilt. They ultimate victory is, of course, the America’s Cup, and the journey there is fraught with struggle on and off the water (as they say!). The sailing details are properly observed, as befits a sailor author, but the real story is one of an era and a time when the chasm between rich and poor was deeper than it had ever been before and has ever been since. An excellent read, and it could hardly ever be timed. May the force be with you Sir Ben!

Buy Now – £16.39

Interested in Sailing Books?

Here’s some top picks from the nautical world – our favourite sailing books.

Show Me More:

• How D-Day Actually Worked: Operation Details 80 Years Later
• ‘True’ Vs Technology: Adrian Morgan on Sailing Gadgets
• Dave Selby’s Confession: Secret Blackwater Sloop

The post Latest Sailing Books: New Nautical Book Reviews appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Calling all boatyard managers, owners, DIY applicators professional applicators and chandlers… Antifouling does a great job of keeping hulls clean and is environmentally beneficial when preventing the spread of invasive non-native species and improving fuel efficiency. However, for these products to be government approved, they must be assessed for risk against the environment and human health. This is largely dependent on boat owners and marine workers using the correct procedures when applying the antifouling products.

Human and Environmental Safety

The British Coatings Federation (BCF) ran a survey back in 2015 to determine the extent people protect themselves with personal protective equipment. With a great response rate, the BCF, British Marine, the RYA, and the Yacht Harbour Association produced a number of leaflets with advice on best practices, to promote human and environmental safety.

• The “Protect, Collect & Dispose” initiative which focussed on environmental best practice which antifouling yachts and boats;
• the “Controlling Antifouling Washings from Shipyards” leaflet which focusses on best practice to prevent release of antifouling paints to the environment; and
• “DIY application of antifouling paints” which contains guidance and best practices on application of paints.

However, use of these paints may become restricted to strictly professional applicators due to their hazardous nature and concerns over risks. Antifouling manufacturers are keen to understand the how aware DIY applicators and boat owners are of the risks and need for protective gear, and the measures they take to prevent damage to their health and the environment.

Fill out the BCF Survey

Choose the antifouling survey that most applies to you:

• For Boatyard managers / owners

• For DIY applicators 

• For professional applicators

• for Chandlers

The survey will run from 4th September – 30th November 2024.

Show Me More:

• How D-Day Actually Worked: Operation Details 80 Years Later
• ‘True’ Vs Technology: Adrian Morgan on Sailing Gadgets
• Dave Selby’s Confession: Secret Blackwater Sloop

The post Are You Antifouling Safely? Complete the BCF Survey appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Founded in 1967, Suffolk Yacht Harbour is packed with a wide array of facilities, including the largest boat lifting and launching facilities from Yorkshire to the Solent on the south coast. This 550-berth leading independent marina will take on two new businesses under their existing brands – OneSails GBR (East) and Evolution Rigging. Located on site at SYH, the move of these two businesses, formerly owned by John Parker, will help to continue SYH’s strategy to supply berth holders and marine visitors with a one-stop-shop and continue it’s reputation as marine hub.

SYH Managing Director Joshua Major commented, “OneSails and Evolution Rigging already
work closely with our team, they are part of the fabric of SYH, so this is a natural progression for all parties. The existing staff will continue to work as normal; it’s very much business as usual.”

SYH Chairman Jonathan Dyke added, “SYH has worked with John Parker, the previous owner of the two businesses, for nearly 40 years so we have in-depth knowledge of the staff, customers, products, and expectations going forwards. We will continue to build on the solid foundations established by John and his team, ensuring customer service remains of the utmost importance.”

John Parker has been around since the chaotic days of measure and cut, before CAD design and laser cutting, and he will continue to work as a consultant to aid business continuity.

John Parker said, “OneSails and Evolution Rigging are in safe hands under SYH ownership.
They have close experience and knowledge of both businesses, which I am sure will thrive
under the new management. Having been a sailmaker for over 40 years it is in my DNA and that doesn’t just go away overnight. I will continue to work with the team to ensure a smooth transition for customers, staff, and suppliers.”

Take a look at our recent article on How Sailmaking is Changing: Cutting Edge Recyclable Sails and John Parker’s work.

Visit the Suffolk Yacht Harbour website for more info.

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• How to Actually Make Money from Buying Wooden Boats
• ‘True’ Vs Technology: Adrian Morgan on Sailing Gadgets
• RNLI 200 years: History of Life Saving Boat Design

The post Suffolk Yacht Harbour Acquires OneSails & Evolution Rigging appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.