There is no doubt that sailing can be thrilling. It can also be risky. Last weekend’s Brewin Dolphin Scottish Series proved both to be true.
Donate to us: support independent, intelligent, in-depth Scottish journalism from just 3p a day
We set off again shortly after five in the afternoon, advising Clyde Coastguard that we expected to reach Tarbert around 11pm. The route would take us down the river to Toward Point, opposite Wemyss Bay, then round the Kyles of Bute before finally turning into Loch Fyne. In good weather, this can be one of the most beautiful trips in the world. But this wasn’t good weather. The rain was beating down on the canvas-covered cockpit. The hills of Argyll were cloaked in a murky, mysterious mist. We could just see the Maids of Bute, two painted standing stones made famous in the Para Handy tales. The stories claimed that he himself had been the first to paint them, “chust for the towerists”. With Arran hardly visible in the distance, we turned into Loch Fyne and the wind picked up again. Even the skipper admitted that things were “lumpy”, in characteristic understatement. The yacht was tossed around as waves seemed to come at us from the side as well as from behind. The harbour lights at Tarbert were a very welcome sight. The Scottish Series is one of the highlights of the sailing year. Run by the Clyde Cruising Club and sponsored by investment managers Brewin Dolphin, it’s designed to test the skill of the crews in a range of conditions. Few were expecting this year’s conditions to be quite so testing. As unseasonal Atlantic lows chased each across the Mull of Kintyre, it made for treacherous sailing. Crew members talked of their yachts broaching – a sudden change in the wind causing the boats to roll dangerously, possibly tipping over on their sides with their keels almost out of the water and facing a real risk of capsizing. Others described how a crew member got his lifejacket was caught in the rigging, only to lose it completely when he tried to untangle. To many, it was a relief that there were fewer entrants – in a crowded race, that would have been very risky indeed. This may have been a four-day event, but only the first and last day’s races could be completed. On the Saturday, the winds grew steadily through the morning and, shortly after lunch, race organiser Johnnie Readman toured the loch on a RIB (rigid inflatable boat), visiting the committee boats and finally deciding to call off the rest of the planned events – to the consternation of some but the relief of many. That was the cue for the assembled crews to enjoy a little boisterous celebration. The rain stayed off for most of the organised firework display and there were impromptu parties on many of the boats, late into the small hours. Sunday morning broke with an eerie, ominous silence. At 6:30am, only the cries of seabirds disturbed the peace. But 15 minutes later, the collective rigging began first to sing and then to howl as yet another front screamed in from the west. By nine o’clock, as we left the shelter of the harbour, the wind gauge on Tico was registering over 40 knots – around 46mph. Few boats braved the gale. Those which did faced conditions of both wind and wave which tested courage as well as skill. Only the largest boats were allowed out. As they turned around the course, their crews were hanging precariously over the side to prevent their yachts from tipping too far over. One boat lost its mast. Another withdrew with damaged gearing. A third lost its helmsman overboard – he was gallantly picked up by one of the following yachts, thankfully unharmed apart from some bruises. As that first race ended, one of the work boats reported that its gearbox had failed. Nothing else would take place that day – apart from a prizegiving in the evening. But late afternoon on Sunday, the machines that deliver paper copies of the marine weather forecasts chattered into life. They reported that gales further to the west had ceased and that fairer conditions would spread across the country. Those messages acted almost as a talisman. The winds calmed down almost at once. The pennants and flags fell limply down the masts. The rain started falling. On Monday morning, the sun shone. A relatively gentle breeze blew across the waters, enough to fill the sails. It meant that day’s racing programme could go ahead. The yachts sped around the various courses throughout the morning. Enough of the races throughout the four days had taken place to make competitors feel it had been worthwhile coming. “The general consensus of the competitors that I’ve heard is that they enjoyed the conditions," said Readman. "Those who didn’t want to go sailing didn’t. Those who wanted to challenge themselves – that is why we all participate in sport – came back having got fresh air and exercise and saying it had been worthwhile.”Donate to us: support independent, intelligent, in-depth Scottish journalism from just 3p a day
Related posts: