Would It Be Possible to Foil on the Thames?

 

As much fun as foiling - a dinghy at speed on the River Thames

Would It Be Possible to Foil on the Thames?

Foiling looks magical. Boats lift clear of the water, drag all but disappears, and suddenly sailing feels more like flying. But could that really work on the River Thames?

The short answer: yes – but only in very specific places, with very specific craft, and a great deal of caution.

What foiling actually needs

Foils work best when three things come together:

• Consistent wind or power to get up onto the foil

• Clear, open water with room to accelerate

• Predictable conditions – minimal obstacles, traffic, and wash

That combination is rare on inland rivers.

The Thames reality

The Thames is a wonderful training and cruising river, but it comes with challenges that foiling doesn’t forgive:

• Variable depth – shoals, shelves, and sudden shallows

• Hidden hazards – mooring chains, weed, debris, submerged structures

• Traffic – rowers, safety boats, cruisers, paddleboards

• Narrow reaches – limited room to bear away and build speed

A foil doesn’t just skim the surface; it extends well below it. That makes unexpected depth changes more than inconvenient — they’re dangerous.

Where it might work

There are limited scenarios where foiling could be feasible:

• Wide, deep reaches with few moorings

• Early mornings or quiet periods with minimal traffic

• Experienced riders only, fully aware of local hazards

Wind foiling (windsurf foils) or electric foils (e-foils) are more realistic than foiling dinghies, because they can lift earlier and don’t rely on perfect sailing angles.

Even then, it’s very much a “just because you can doesn’t mean you should” situation.

Club sailing and safety cover

From a club and safety-boat perspective, foiling introduces complications:

• Foilers travel fast and silently

• Recovery after a fall is harder

• Safety boats must keep greater distance from submerged foils

On a busy training river, that’s a big ask.

The sensible conclusion

Foiling belongs where it has space, depth, and freedom — open water, reservoirs, and coastal venues. The Thames excels at many things: learning, racing, family sailing, gentle adventure.

Foiling?
Possible in theory. Questionable in practice.

The only alternative is the A-Rater. Designed for the River Thames, the fastest boat on the Thames and trills a minute.

And sometimes, staying wet and close to the water is half the fun anyway.

 

Time to work on the boat (and finally do those jobs you’ve been putting off)

When the red boards go up on the River Thames, sailing stops.
The river is in spate, the stream is strong, and common sense (and the Harbour Master) says stay ashore.

But red boards don’t mean the sailing season is over.
They mean the maintenance season has begun.

And even if your boat is made of GRP, there is still plenty to do.

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🛠️ GRP Isn’t “Maintenance-Free”

Glass Reinforced Plastic has a reputation for being indestructible.
It isn’t. It’s just forgiving.

Red board days are perfect for:

• Cleaning and inspection – hull, cockpit, centreboard case

• Checking fittings – loose screws, worn shackles, tired cleats

• Control lines – frayed sheets, stiff halyards, mysterious knots that appeared during the season

• Buoyancy checks – bags inflated, valves sound, no slow leaks

• Rudder and centreboard – pivots tight, blades smooth, no unexpected play

You’ll almost always find something that makes you think
“Ah… that explains that.”

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⚓ The Jobs We All Put Off

Red boards are when honesty kicks in.

That list you’ve been mentally maintaining all summer:

• “I’ll sort that later”

• “It still works… mostly”

• “That creak is probably fine”

Now’s the time.

It’s much nicer discovering issues in wellies on the bank than waist-deep in February water.

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❄️ Winter Work = Spring Confidence

A winter spent quietly fettling pays off hugely:

• Faster rigging in spring

• Fewer failures afloat

• More time sailing, less time fixing

And perhaps most importantly:
you start the new season knowing your boat is ready — not hoping it is.

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🌧️ Red Boards as a Gift

Yes, we’d all rather be sailing.
But red boards force a pause — and that pause makes the rest of the season better.

The river will drop.
The boards will come down.
And when they do, the boat will be cleaner, safer, and quietly grateful.

How Close Is Too Close? Providing Effective Safety Boat Cover on the River Thames

 

How Close Is Too Close?

Providing Effective Safety Boat Cover on the River Thames

One of the great advantages of sailing on the River Thames is that help is never very far away.

Unlike large open waters where safety boats must shadow fleets continuously, river sailing offers a unique option: the safety boat can often be moored quietly on the bank, out of the way of racing and training, yet still seconds away from an incident.

But that raises an important question:

How close is close enough — and when does “being helpful” become “being a hazard”?

The Purpose of Safety Cover (and What It Isn’t)

A safety boat exists to:

• Respond quickly to incidents

• Recover sailors and boats safely

• Support training and racing without interfering

It is not there to:

• Sail the race from five metres away

• Hover permanently over inexperienced crews

• Add wash, noise, or distraction to already busy water

Good safety cover is often almost invisible — until it’s needed.

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Why the River Changes Everything

On the Thames, we benefit from:

• Narrow water with clear sightlines

• Defined sailing areas

• Easy access to the bank

• Short transit times upstream or downstream

This means a safety boat can often be:

• Moored head-to-stream on the bank

• Engine off

• Crew watching the water, not the throttle

From that position, the boat is:

• Out of the racing line

• Not creating wash

• Not intimidating learners

• Still able to reach an incident in moments

That’s a huge advantage — when used correctly.

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When “Too Close” Becomes a Problem

A safety boat that is too close can:

• Blank wind for dinghies

• Create wash at exactly the wrong moment

• Distract helms who are already overloaded

• Encourage over-reliance (“they’ll save me if it goes wrong”)

For learners especially, confidence grows when:

• They know help is available

• But are allowed to sail independently

Hovering just metres away removes that space to learn.

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So Where Should the Safety Boat Be?

There’s no single distance, but good practice on the river usually means:

Stationary cover

• Moored on the bank

• Clear view of the fleet

• Engine ready, crew alert

Mobile cover

• Moving only when necessary

• Approaching incidents at controlled speed

• Staying well clear of boats that are coping perfectly well

The key idea is reaction time, not proximity.

If you can reach any point of the sailing area quickly, you don’t need to be sitting on top of it.

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The Moment to Move In

A safety boat should close the gap decisively when:

• A boat is capsized and the crew are struggling

• A sailor is separated from their boat

• A mast or sail is fouled near hazards

• A boat is drifting into danger

• A clear signal for help has been given

When that moment comes, hesitation is worse than distance.

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A Calm Presence Builds Confidence

From a sailor’s point of view — especially beginners — the best safety cover feels:

• Calm

• Unhurried

• Competent

• Watchful rather than intrusive

Knowing that the safety boat is there, not right there, encourages better decision-making and faster learning.

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In Short: Close Enough, Not Closer

On the River Thames, the ideal safety boat position is often:

• On the bank

• Out of the way

• Engine ready

• Eyes on the water

Close enough to respond in seconds.
Far enough away to let sailing happen.

That balance is what turns safety cover from a nuisance into a quiet, reassuring presence — which is exactly what it should be.

 Unexpected Encounters with Wildlife

One of the quiet joys of learning to sail on the River Thames is that you are never really alone. You may launch with a carefully rehearsed plan — wind direction checked, centreboard down, mainsheet flaked — but the river has a habit of adding its own unscripted cast.

Some days it’s subtle. A heron lifts off from the bank just as you bear away, legs trailing like something from a prehistoric sketchbook. Kingfishers flash past in a streak of improbable blue, gone before you’ve had time to say, “Did you see that?” (You did. You’re just not sure you believe it.)

Other days, the encounters are rather more direct.

Swans, for example, have an unshakeable belief that they own the river and that your carefully trimmed course is merely a suggestion. They will hold station directly ahead of the bow, daring you to blink first. You ease the sheet, adjust the tiller, and mutter polite apologies while the swan remains magnificently unimpressed. The unwritten rule seems to be: the larger the bird, the more right of way it assumes.

Canada geese operate differently. They prefer ambush tactics. One moment the bank is quiet; the next, a flotilla erupts into the water with loud complaints about your presence. They are noisy, indignant, and utterly convinced this is all your fault.

Then there are the moments that stop you mid-sentence. A seal surfacing briefly, as if checking the sailing standards upriver. A deer stepping delicately into the shallows at dawn. Even a cormorant, wings spread wide on a mooring post, drying itself like a piece of abstract art.

These encounters are reminders that the Thames is not just a training ground for tacks, gybes, and boat handling. It’s a living corridor, shared with creatures that have been here far longer than sailing clubs, safety boats, or carefully laminated briefing notes.

They also teach good seamanship. Slow down. Keep a proper lookout. Anticipate the unexpected. Wildlife doesn’t read the Racing Rules of Sailing, and it certainly hasn’t attended your pre-sail briefing.

And perhaps that’s the point. Among the drills, the corrections, and the quiet triumphs of getting it right, the river occasionally taps you on the shoulder and says: Look up. This is bigger than you.

Why Every Day on the River Teaches You Something New

One of the quiet joys of learning to sail on the River Thames is that no two days are ever quite the same.

The boat may be familiar.
The stretch of river may be one we’ve sailed dozens of times before.
But the river itself is always teaching.

Some days it’s obvious:
a stronger stream than expected, gusts funnelling through trees, or the challenge of sharing space with rowers, paddleboards, and launches. Other days the lessons are smaller and more personal – trimming the sail a fraction earlier, sitting a little further forward, or trusting the boat to keep moving instead of over-correcting.

As a sailor learning later in life, I’ve come to realise that progress isn’t about dramatic breakthroughs. It’s about noticing what felt different today compared with yesterday.
What worked.
What didn’t.
And what I might try next time.

That reflective habit has become as important as learning the technical skills themselves. Sailing rewards patience, observation, and a willingness to accept that you’re never really finished learning – especially on a river.

That’s why this blog exists.
Not to present myself as an expert, but to document the process honestly: the mistakes, the small wins, and the gradual building of confidence that comes from time on the water.

If you’re learning to sail, returning to it after a long break, or simply enjoy life on the river, you’re very welcome here.

👉 More sailing stories, tips, and river-specific lessons can be found at
https://pmrsailing.uk/

We also keep a daily blog of hints and tips, as well as adventures.

Fog on the Thames

Fog on the River Thames has a particular character.
It can arrive quietly, lift just enough to tempt you out, and then close in again without much warning. The water looks calm, the world feels hushed – and that can make fog deceptively inviting.

But fog is one of the few conditions where not sailing is often the most sensible decision.

What fog changes on a river

On open water, fog reduces visibility. On a river, it removes context.

You don’t just lose sight of other boats – you lose sight of:

• Bends in the river

• Overhanging trees and moored boats

• Rowing crews moving fast and silently

• Safety boats that may also be struggling to see you

Sound travels oddly in fog, and engines can seem closer or further away than they really are. A calm-looking river can still have a strong stream carrying you into trouble before you realise it.

Visibility isn’t just “can I see?”

A helpful rule of thumb on the Thames is simple:
If you cannot clearly see and identify hazards well ahead of you, you shouldn’t be sailing. Fog also usually equals no wind, and in that, you shouldn't be sailing.

That’s not just about spotting another boat. It’s about being able to recognise what you’re seeing early enough to make a calm, controlled decision.

If you’re relying on last-second reactions, you’re already too late.

Cold, damp, and concentration

Fog is usually accompanied by cold, damp air. Hands get stiff. Glasses mist up. Decision-making slows.
For less experienced sailors – or anyone sailing later in life – this combination increases risk far more than wind strength alone ever does.

When fog might be acceptable

There are rare occasions when controlled activity in light mist can be reasonable:

• Very light traffic

• Excellent local knowledge

• Safety boats in close attendance

• Clear club guidance and agreed limits

Even then, it’s usually a training exercise with strict boundaries, not a casual sail.

The best seamanship choice

Good seamanship isn’t about bravado.
It’s about judgment.

Choosing not to sail in fog isn’t “missing an opportunity” – it’s practising exactly the kind of decision-making that keeps you safe for many seasons to come.

With Fog, there is usually little wind, and little wind in any conditions means sailing is difficult.

Fog will lift.
The river will still be there.

 Understanding Overlap Rules

A river-specific explanation

If you’re new to racing—or even just sailing in company—few things cause more head-scratching than the phrase:

“You had overlap!”

On open water, overlap rules already take some getting used to. On a narrow, stream-affected river like the Thames, they can feel positively mysterious. Boats appear suddenly from odd angles, the river bends, the stream pushes everyone sideways, and before you know it someone is explaining the rules very confidently from the wrong end of the conversation.

This article explains overlap rules simply, with a particular eye on how they work on a river.

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1. What Is an Overlap? (Plain English Version)

Two boats are overlapped when they are close enough side-by-side that one is not completely clear ahead or completely clear astern of the other.

In practice:

• If you can draw a line across the back of the boat in front and the other boat’s bow has crossed it → overlap exists

• If the boat behind is completely behind that line → clear astern

Overlap can be:

• Leeward overlap (inside, closer to the wind’s downwind side)

• Windward overlap (outside, closer to the windward side)

This distinction matters a lot.

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2. The Core Rule (Upwind and Downwind)

When two boats are overlapped:

• The windward boat must keep clear of the leeward boat

That’s the backbone of overlap rules and it applies everywhere—sea, lake or river.

However… the river adds complications.

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3. Why the Thames Makes Overlaps Tricky

On the Thames:

• Boats are closer together

• Courses bend

• Stream slides boats sideways

• Wind shadows force sudden course changes

• There is often no “room to spare”

So overlaps appear quickly and disappear just as fast.

A boat can gain overlap simply because the stream pushed it sideways—not because it deliberately sailed there.

This doesn’t make the overlap invalid.
It just means anticipation matters more than intention.

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4. Inside and Outside at Marks (The Big One)

This is where most river arguments begin.

At a mark:

• If boats are overlapped when the first boat enters the zone (usually three boat lengths),

• The inside boat is entitled to room at the mark

This applies even if:

• The overlap feels very late

• The river bend compresses boats

• The outside boat suddenly realises there’s no space

On the Thames, marks are often close to banks, trees or moored boats, so giving mark room early is essential.

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5. River-Specific Reality: The Bank Is Not “Room”

A common misconception on rivers is:

“There wasn’t room because of the bank.”

Unfortunately, the rules don’t care about geography.

If:

• An inside overlap exists

• And you are the outside boat

You must still give room—even if that means you have to slow down earlier than you’d like.

On a river, good sailors defend early to avoid being squeezed later.

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6. You Can’t Create an Overlap From Nowhere

A key protection in the rules:

If a boat establishes an inside overlap from clear astern, the outside boat must be given time and space to respond.

In other words:

• No barging in at the last second

• No “I appeared, therefore I’m entitled”

But on the Thames, timing is tight—so if you leave it late, you’re gambling.

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7. Overlap vs Common Sense

River sailing rewards sailors who combine rules knowledge with courtesy.

Good habits include:

• Calling “overlap” early and clearly

• Backing off slightly rather than forcing a marginal situation

• Remembering that everyone is managing wind shifts and stream at the same time

Winning an argument but damaging a boat (or a friendship) is never a good trade.

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8. Typical Thames Overlap Scenarios

You’ll often see overlaps arise:

• Approaching a downstream mark with stream pushing boats together

• On tight reaches near the bank

• When one boat exits a wind shadow faster than another

• When tacking in confined space

Being alert to these moments prevents panic manoeuvres.

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9. The Golden Rule for River Racing

If you’re unsure who’s right:

• Ease early

• Keep the boat under control

• Avoid contact

• Sort it out calmly afterwards

The Thames is narrow. Pride should be narrower.

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Final Thoughts

Overlap rules aren’t there to trip people up—they exist to keep boats predictable and safe. On a river like the Thames, where space is limited and conditions shift constantly, understanding overlaps is as much about anticipation and restraint as it is about rule-reading.

Learn the basics, expect overlaps to happen quickly, and sail with enough margin that nobody needs to shout.

That’s good racing—and good river manners.

 Gunwale

What it is, why it matters, and how to pronounce it

There are few sailing words that cause quite as much quiet confusion as gunwale. It looks like it should be pronounced “gun-whale”, it sounds nothing like that at all, and yet everyone at the sailing club seems to know exactly what it means—except, perhaps, the newest sailors.

So let’s clear things up properly: what a gunwale is, why it matters when you’re sailing a dinghy on the Thames, and how on earth you’re meant to say it without embarrassment.

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1. How Do You Pronounce “Gunwale”?

Let’s start with the important bit.

Gunwale is pronounced:
👉 “gunnel” (rhymes with tunnel)

Not gun-whale.
Not gun-wall.
Just gunnel.

Once you know that, you can say it confidently and enjoy watching someone else hesitate instead.

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2. What Is a Gunwale?

The gunwale is the top edge of the boat’s hull—the strengthening rim that runs all the way around the boat.

On a dinghy like an RS Toura, it’s the solid edge that:

• Defines the shape of the hull

• Adds strength and rigidity

• Takes a lot of wear and tear

• Is often exactly where you sit, lean, or brace yourself

If the hull is the boat’s body, the gunwale is its backbone at the top edge.

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3. Why Does the Gunwale Matter?

The gunwale does far more than just sit there looking important.

a) Strength and Structure

The gunwale stiffens the hull and helps prevent twisting, especially when the boat is heeling, bouncing through chop, or carrying crew weight on one side.

Without a strong gunwale, a dinghy would feel alarmingly floppy.

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b) Where You Sit (A Lot)

On many training and cruising dinghies, sailors sit on or just inside the gunwale when sailing upwind.

It provides:

• A comfortable perch

• A predictable balance point

• A clear reference for how far out you’re sitting

On the Thames, where balance and heel control are critical, knowing where the gunwale is helps you manage your weight properly.

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c) Grip and Stability

When conditions get lively, the gunwale gives you something solid to brace against.

You’ll often:

• Hook a foot under the gunwale lip

• Rest a thigh against it

• Lean gently over it when hiking lightly

It’s one of your main points of contact with the boat.

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4. Gunwale vs Side Deck – Are They the Same?

Not quite.

• The gunwale is the reinforced edge of the hull

• The side deck is the flat (or slightly angled) surface just inside it

People often use the terms interchangeably, but technically the gunwale is the edge itself.

Knowing the difference helps when instructors say things like:
“Sit on the gunwale, not halfway across the cockpit.”

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5. Gunwales and River Sailing

On a narrow river like the Thames, gunwales earn their keep.

They help with:

• Quick balance changes in gusty wind

• Controlled leaning without over-heeling

• Safe movement when tacking and gybing

• Stability when passing moored boats or paddleboarders

Good use of the gunwale often separates calm, controlled sailors from those who feel constantly on edge.

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6. Looking After the Gunwale

Because it’s the most-used edge of the boat, the gunwale takes a lot of punishment.

Common enemies include:

• Pontoon edges

• Concrete slipways

• Mooring cleats

• Overenthusiastic landings

A quick check for cracks, wear or loose fittings is always worthwhile—especially on older boats and restorations like classic Thames craft.

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7. Why Sailing Language Is Like This

“Gunwale” comes from “gun ridge”, dating back to the days when cannons were mounted along the sides of warships. Over time, pronunciation drifted, spelling stayed stubborn, and sailors just… accepted it.

It’s part of the joy of sailing language: odd, historic, and slightly mischievous.

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Final Thoughts

The gunwale is one of those parts of a boat you use constantly without realising it—until someone explains it. Once you know what it is, how to use it, and how to pronounce it, sailing instructions suddenly make a lot more sense.

So next time you’re told to “sit on the gunnel”, you’ll know exactly what to do—and you can say it with confidence.

For a clear reference, see the sailing terms page here:
🔗 https://pmrsailing.uk/sailing-lessons/sailing-terms-list/Gunwale.html