Le Weekend
Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2011 11:57 am
Dear Heart and I have just had the pleasantest of weekends with our very dear friend Mrs Parahandy and her ageing and increasingly incontinent husband.
On Saturday we sailed the Micro on Windermere in what could be described as fresh conditions.
I certainly learned a thing about gybeing that I'd never seen before. Para was given the task of sailing the boat downwind back to the mooring and this meant that we had to negotiate the relatively narrow stretch of water that leads into Bowness Bay from the South. On approaching the aptly named Cockshott point it became clear that ideally we would gybe onto starboard and run down through the moorings to enable us to keep out of the main fairway where the lake steamers were plying their trade.
The assembled crew - Mrs P, Dear Heart, Self and the aforementioned PH prepared ourselves for the gybe but none could have prepared for what was to follow as PH decided to warm up the tiller extension by stuffing it up his vest before sitting rather quickly and getting his ample bulk wedged in the aft corner of the cockpit.
900 degrees later with 3 of us reaching for money to pay the attendant of what was so obviously a challenge to any ride constructed at Alton Towers, after much grunting and tugging, the offending extension became released from its cosy repose, the boat suddenly came out of its spiral - where 3 of us were beginning to try to identify the entrance to our own airses - convinced we were about to disappear - and took off down a corridor of moored boats. Spectators could only look on in absolute amazement at the wondrous skills and abilities of our helm who took it all in his stride and made it look for all the world like a well rehearsed and practiced manoevre aimed at removing weed from the rudder blade.
On Saturday we sailed the Micro on Windermere in what could be described as fresh conditions.
I certainly learned a thing about gybeing that I'd never seen before. Para was given the task of sailing the boat downwind back to the mooring and this meant that we had to negotiate the relatively narrow stretch of water that leads into Bowness Bay from the South. On approaching the aptly named Cockshott point it became clear that ideally we would gybe onto starboard and run down through the moorings to enable us to keep out of the main fairway where the lake steamers were plying their trade.
The assembled crew - Mrs P, Dear Heart, Self and the aforementioned PH prepared ourselves for the gybe but none could have prepared for what was to follow as PH decided to warm up the tiller extension by stuffing it up his vest before sitting rather quickly and getting his ample bulk wedged in the aft corner of the cockpit.
900 degrees later with 3 of us reaching for money to pay the attendant of what was so obviously a challenge to any ride constructed at Alton Towers, after much grunting and tugging, the offending extension became released from its cosy repose, the boat suddenly came out of its spiral - where 3 of us were beginning to try to identify the entrance to our own airses - convinced we were about to disappear - and took off down a corridor of moored boats. Spectators could only look on in absolute amazement at the wondrous skills and abilities of our helm who took it all in his stride and made it look for all the world like a well rehearsed and practiced manoevre aimed at removing weed from the rudder blade.