Saturday, 30 May 2026

The Champagne Project: What Needs Restoring First?

 




The Champagne Project: What Needs Restoring First?

Buying a classic boat is the easy bit. The real work begins when you start making the list.

Champagne has now had her first proper introduction to life at Upper Thames Sailing Club. We have given her a quick check over, water tested her, and even managed to get her into a race. That sounds rather more organised than it felt at the time.

In reality, the first few outings with a newly acquired classic boat are less like a polished launch ceremony and more like an extended detective story. Every fitting becomes a clue. Every rope has a history. Every wobble, leak, squeak or mysterious knot raises the same question:

“Is that normal, or is that about to become expensive?”

Before Champagne can return to the water properly, the restoration list needs turning from a vague cloud of worry into a practical plan. Not everything needs doing immediately. Not everything is dangerous. Not everything needs restoring to concours condition before we can sail.

But some things do need sorting before we trust her properly.

So the first job is not varnishing, polishing, painting or ordering beautiful new sails.

The first job is making the list.


From Excitement to Inspection

When Champagne arrived, the temptation was obvious: rig her, sail her, photograph her, race her, and pretend that everything else could wait until winter.

Unfortunately, boats do not always respect enthusiasm.

Old boats, even very beautiful ones, have a habit of hiding problems until you start using them. A fitting that looked perfectly acceptable ashore may start moving under load. A cover that looked “a bit tired” may reveal itself to have more holes than cover. A rope that had probably done many years of loyal service may choose exactly the wrong moment to snap.

That is why the first stage of the Champagne project is a proper inspection.

Not a panic. Not a shopping spree. Not a complete rebuild.

A careful, photographed condition report.


The Hull: What Is Cosmetic and What Is Serious?

The hull is the obvious place to start because it is the part of the boat that keeps the water on the outside, which is always a desirable feature.

Champagne has already been water tested, which is a useful first step. A boat can look splendid on a trailer, but the river gives a much more honest assessment. We need to look carefully for signs of leaks, cracks, old repairs, movement around fittings, and any areas where water might be getting into places it should not.

Some marks on a hull are cosmetic. Scratches, faded gelcoat, tired paint and general scuffs are part of the story of an older racing boat. They may offend the eye, but they do not necessarily stop the boat sailing.

Other issues are more serious. Any cracking around high-load areas, signs of softness, flexing, distortion, or water ingress need to be treated differently. The key question is not “Does this look nice?” but “Is this strong enough?”

That is the difference between restoration and decoration.


The Deck: The Place Where Problems Become Visible

The deck needs the same careful approach. Decks on older boats tell stories. Fittings are moved. Holes are drilled. Repairs are made. New systems are added. Old systems are abandoned but not always removed.

Champagne’s deck needs checking around every fitting, especially where loads are transferred into the structure. Shroud fittings, mast step areas, jib fairlead tracks, cleats, blocks and control line attachment points all need careful inspection.

A slightly tired-looking deck may only need cleaning, varnish or cosmetic attention. But a loose fitting, soft patch, or crack around a loaded area needs proper investigation.

This is where a photographed condition report becomes so useful. Rather than saying, “I think that bit near the fitting looked a bit suspect,” we can photograph it, label it, and return to it later. It also means we can compare before and after, and ask advice from people who know far more about Thames A-Raters than we do.

Which, at this stage, is quite a large number of people.


Mast, Boom and Rigging: Learning the Language of the Boat

One of the more intimidating parts of Champagne is the rig.

We are used to dinghies where there are fewer adjustments and where the setup is relatively straightforward. Champagne is different. We have to learn how to tighten and adjust the mast, the shrouds, the lowers and the baby stays. We also need to understand what each adjustment actually does.

This matters because the mast is not simply a pole that holds the sail up. It is part of a tuned system. Rig tension affects sail shape, pointing ability, power, balance and safety. Too loose, and things can move around alarmingly. Too tight, and loads may go where they were never intended to go.

At the moment, this is very much a learning process. We need to inspect the mast and boom carefully, check the fittings, look for cracks, corrosion, movement, wear, and any signs that something has been improvised because it once broke at an inconvenient moment.

That is not a criticism of the boat. It is simply how old boats survive. They are kept going by practical people making sensible repairs.

But now those repairs need to be understood.


The Snapped Rope and the Case for Proper Fittings

One small but important example came with the jib.

The jib had been secured to the mast by a bit of rope. That rope snapped.

This is exactly the sort of thing that turns a vague worry into a specific job. The answer is not to tie another old bit of rope on and hope. The answer is to replace it properly with a suitable 6 mm shackle.

That is the kind of restoration priority that makes sense. It is small, inexpensive and not particularly glamorous, but it improves safety and reliability immediately.

Classic boat restoration is not always dramatic. Sometimes it is simply replacing something temporary with something trustworthy.


The Rudder Cassette Wobble

The rudder is another priority.

The rudder in the cassette wobbles, and that needs fixing. Steering is one of those systems where “it will probably be alright” is not a good maintenance strategy.

A small amount of play in a rudder may not sound exciting, but on the water it can affect control, confidence and performance. In stronger wind or close racing, vague steering is not just annoying. It can become a real problem.

This job needs looking at carefully. Is the cassette worn? Is the rudder stock moving? Are the fittings loose? Are bushes or packing pieces needed? Has something distorted? Is the movement vertical, sideways, or both?

The first job is to identify exactly where the movement is coming from. Only then can we decide whether it needs adjustment, replacement parts, packing, repair, or a more substantial rebuild.

Either way, the rudder goes high on the list.


Covers: Protection Is Not Optional

Champagne’s current cover is not really doing the job.

Her tight-fitting cover has more holes than cover, and at the moment she does not have a proper tent-like cover. She just has a temporary tarpaulin.

That may be acceptable for a short period, but it is not a long-term answer. A classic boat needs protection from rain, ultraviolet light, dirt, leaves, birds and the general enthusiasm of British weather. A poor cover can create more problems than it solves. It may trap moisture, rub against varnish, sag into puddles, or let water in exactly where we do not want it.

A proper tent-style cover would protect the boat far better, especially while restoration work is ongoing. It would allow airflow, shed water properly, and reduce the amount of damage being caused while we are still trying to repair earlier damage.

This is one of those jobs that is not exciting, but it protects every other job.

There is little point varnishing beautifully if the next week’s rain is allowed to sit on the deck.


Running Gear: Every Rope Has a Job

The running gear needs a systematic check.

Sheets, halyards, control lines, blocks, cleats, fairleads and tracks all need inspecting. Anything worn, stiff, damaged, badly led or unreliable needs recording.

One particular area we need to understand is the fairlead tracks for the jib. Where should the fairleads be set? How does their position affect the shape of the jib? What is the best starting point for light wind, stronger wind, pointing, and river sailing?

This is not just restoration. It is learning how to sail the boat properly.

The position of a jib fairlead changes the balance between tension on the foot and leech of the sail. Too far forward, and the leech may be too tight. Too far back, and the foot may be over-tensioned while the top of the sail twists away. On a boat like Champagne, small adjustments may make a noticeable difference.

So the job is not simply “check fairleads”.

The job is: inspect them, understand them, mark sensible starting positions, and learn how to use them.


Cosmetic, Structural or Urgent?

The hardest part of a restoration list is deciding what matters first.

Everything looks urgent when you are standing beside an old boat with a notebook. The varnish looks tired. The ropes look mixed. The fittings need checking. The cover needs replacing. The rudder wobbles. The rig needs learning. The boat needs cleaning. The sails need assessing. The photographs need taking. The list grows faster than the work gets done.

So we need three categories.

1. Urgent safety and reliability jobs

These are the things that could cause failure, loss of control, damage, or unsafe sailing. For Champagne, that includes the rudder cassette wobble, suspect ropes, the jib attachment, rigging checks, mast security, shroud and stay tension, and any structural concerns around loaded fittings.

These jobs come first.

2. Sailing performance jobs

These are the things that help Champagne sail better once she is safe. This includes learning the rig settings, sorting the jib fairlead tracks, checking sail condition, improving control line systems, and making sure the running gear works smoothly.

These jobs matter because Champagne is not just a display object. She is meant to sail.

And, ideally, not always at the back.

3. Appearance and preservation jobs

This includes varnishing, polishing, cleaning, paintwork, cosmetic repairs and presentation. These jobs matter too. A classic boat deserves to look cared for, and appearance is part of preservation.

But appearance comes after safety and structure.

A beautifully varnished boat with a wobbly rudder is still a boat with a wobbly rudder.


Making a Photographed Condition Report

The most useful practical step now is to create a photographed condition report.

That means working around the boat methodically and recording what we find. Each area should be photographed, labelled and described. The report does not need to be overcomplicated, but it does need to be clear enough to be useful later.

The sections might include:

  • Hull
  • Deck
  • Mast step
  • Mast
  • Boom
  • Standing rigging
  • Running rigging
  • Rudder and cassette
  • Centreboard or lifting gear
  • Jib fittings and fairlead tracks
  • Covers and storage
  • Sails
  • Trailer or launching equipment
  • Urgent replacements
  • Questions for experienced A-Rater sailors

Each item can then be given a priority: urgent, soon, winter job, cosmetic, or advice needed.

The important thing is to move the project out of the world of “I’m sure there was something else” and into a practical working document.

A boat restoration should not rely entirely on memory, especially when the person doing the remembering has already forgotten where he put the 10 mm spanner.


Asking the Right People

One of the great advantages of restoring Champagne at Upper Thames Sailing Club is that there are people around who understand these boats.

A Thames A-Rater is not a normal dinghy. It has its own history, its own setup, its own handling characteristics and its own little collection of mysteries. There is no shame in asking for help. In fact, it would be foolish not to.

We need advice on rig tension, mast setup, jib fairlead position, rudder cassette repair, cover design and the order of work. Some of this can be worked out slowly by trial and error, but it is much better to learn from people who have already made the mistakes.

Restoration is partly about tools and materials.

But it is also about listening.


The First Priority List

At this stage, Champagne’s first working priority list looks something like this:

Safety and control

Check mast, shrouds, lowers and baby stays. Learn how to tension and adjust them correctly. Inspect all standing rigging and loaded fittings.

Rudder

Investigate and fix the wobble in the rudder cassette. Steering needs to be positive and reliable before regular sailing.

Jib attachment

Replace the temporary rope arrangement with a suitable 6 mm shackle.

Running gear

Inspect sheets, halyards, cleats, blocks and control lines. Replace anything worn, unreliable or badly led.

Jib fairlead tracks

Understand how they should be used and set a sensible starting position for sailing.

Covers

Replace the failing tight-fitting cover and temporary tarpaulin with a proper protective cover, preferably tent-like, to keep the boat dry and ventilated.

Condition report

Photograph and document the hull, deck, fittings, rig, sails, foils and covers before starting major cosmetic work.

Cosmetic work

Clean, protect, varnish and improve appearance once the urgent and structural work has been properly assessed.


Why the List Matters

There is something slightly sobering about making a restoration list. Until the list exists, the project can live in the imagination as a beautiful classic boat gliding along the Thames, sails drawing, varnish glowing, crew looking competent and relaxed.

Then the list appears.

Rudder wobble. Cover holes. Rig tension. Fairlead positions. Shackle replacement. Varnish. Fittings. Photographs. Questions. More questions. Possibly a few expensive questions.

But the list is not the enemy. The list is what makes the project possible.

A vague worry drains enthusiasm. A practical list creates progress.

Each job completed makes Champagne more reliable, more understandable and more ours.


Conclusion: Restoring Confidence as Well as the Boat

The Champagne project is not just about restoring a Thames A-Rater. It is about restoring confidence.

Confidence that the rig is secure. Confidence that the rudder will respond. Confidence that the jib is attached properly. Confidence that the cover is protecting the boat rather than merely decorating it. Confidence that we understand what needs doing first, what can wait, and what requires expert advice.

Classic boats reward care, but they also demand honesty. Champagne has already shown that she can float, sail and race. Now we need to make sure she can do those things properly, safely and repeatedly.

The glamorous photographs will come later.

For now, the most important tools are a camera, a notebook, a checklist, and the willingness to admit that “I’ll just have a quick look” is almost certainly how a restoration project begins.

And probably how most Saturdays disappear.

Friday, 22 May 2026

Bourne End Week — When the Fastest Boats Came to the Thames

 


Bourne End Week — When the Fastest Boats Came to the Thames

A historic river regatta that once stood beside Cowes

There are sailing events that are famous because they are large. There are others that are famous because they are old. Then there are a few rare events that somehow manage to be both historic and wonderfully alive.

Bourne End Week belongs in that last category.

Today it is centred around the late May Bank Holiday at Upper Thames Sailing Club, but its roots go back to 1887, when the event was first held to mark Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. In its early years it carried enormous social and sporting prestige, with Upper Thames Sailing Club’s own history describing it as ranked almost alongside Ascot and Henley.

And at the centre of the spectacle were the great racing machines of the river: the Thames A-Raters.

The historic photograph at the top of this article captures exactly why the event mattered. Long, elegant hulls. Vast white sails. Crews crouched low. Tall rigs reaching into the sky above the Thames. These were not sleepy river boats pottering gently past a picnic rug. These were the fastest inland racing boats of their day, and Bourne End Week was one of the places where they came to prove it.


The Cowes of the Upper Thames






It is easy to forget how important inland sailing once was.

Today, when people think of prestigious sailing weeks, they usually think of places like Cowes. That is understandable. Cowes Week has a long history, beginning in 1826, and remains one of the great names in British yacht racing.

But Bourne End Week had its own golden period. The event drew serious sailors, beautiful boats, social attention and major trophies. In the late Victorian and Edwardian period, this stretch of the River Thames was not simply a pleasant place to sail. It was a racing arena.

The Thames A-Raters were the Formula One cars of their environment: extreme, elegant, slightly impractical, and designed for speed. They carried enormous sail area, demanded skilled crews, and looked almost absurdly dramatic on a river. That, of course, is part of their charm.

A modern racing dinghy may look efficient. An A-Rater looks as though someone has attached a church spire to a canoe and then decided to race it in gusty conditions between trees.

Naturally, I approve.


The Queen’s Cup — a trophy with real history

The heart of Bourne End Week for the A-Raters is still the Queen’s Cup.

Queen Victoria presented the Queen’s Cup in 1893, giving the event a trophy of genuine national significance. It remains one of the most prestigious prizes raced for by the Thames A-Rater class.

That continuity matters.

Many sporting events claim tradition. Bourne End Week actually has it. Boats have changed. Materials have changed. Sails have changed. Cameras have certainly changed. But the essential sight remains recognisable: tall-rigged river racing boats, close competition, tactical sailing, awkward wind, awkward stream, and crews trying very hard not to make a complete mess of things in front of everyone watching from the bank.

Little has changed in the most important sense.

The Thames is still the Thames. It still has trees that steal the wind, reaches that tempt you into false confidence, gusts that arrive from nowhere, and moments when the winning decision is not simply about boat speed but about reading the river properly.


Bourne End Week today

Modern Bourne End Week is shorter than the grand old regatta weeks of the past, but it still carries the same spirit. It now runs over four main days, with the previous Sunday traditionally associated with Ladies’ races, and it remains Upper Thames Sailing Club’s main annual regatta. For 2026, Upper Thames Sailing Club lists Bourne End Week from Friday 22 May to Monday 25 May, with the Thames A-Rater Nationals running across the four days and the Queen’s Cup on the Sunday.


The event is not only about the A-Raters. Merlin Rockets, International OKs, handicap fleets and visiting sailors all add to the atmosphere. The club describes the racing as river sailing at its best, with roll tacking, stream, shifting breezes and the need for proper tactical judgement all playing their part.

That is what makes it special. Sea sailing often rewards anticipation, tide work and passage planning. River sailing rewards precision, patience and an almost suspicious attitude towards every patch of wind on the water.

At Bourne End, one boat can be moving beautifully while another, only yards away, sits motionless under the trees wondering what it did wrong.


Why the A-Raters still matter

The A-Raters are not just museum pieces.

That is the important point.



They are historic, yes. They are beautiful, certainly. They are also still raced hard. The class has evolved from the early wooden boats into a mixture of older hulls, restored classics and more modern constructions. Some boats carry materials and technology that would have astonished the Victorian sailors who first watched the class develop.

But the central idea remains wonderfully mad: build a long, light river racing boat, give it an enormous rig, and send it charging along the Upper Thames.

The result is a class that connects past and present in a way few boats can. When an A-Rater heels under a tall white sail at Bourne End, it is not a re-enactment. It is living history.

And this year there is an added personal fascination for me. With Champagne not yet ready to race, Paul will be out in Spindrift, while I shall be filming, photographing, helping where needed, and probably trying not to drop anything expensive into the Thames.


Filming the event — history through a modern lens

One of the pleasures of this year’s Bourne End Week will be trying to capture the event properly.

That is not as simple as it sounds.

A historic photograph can freeze the grandeur of the scene: the boats, the sails, the river, the distant bank. Modern video has to do something different. It has to show the movement, the tactics, the sudden acceleration, the near misses, the calls from the crew, the quiet concentration before the start, and the moment when a boat either finds the breeze or sails directly into a hole.



Filming from the shore gives context. Filming from a safety boat gives drama. Drone footage, where permitted and safe, gives the shape of the race. Long lenses compress the fleet and make the rigs look magnificent. Wide shots show just how narrow and tactical the river really is.

The aim is not simply to record a sailing event. It is to show why Bourne End Week still matters.


A regatta that deserves to be better known

Bourne End Week may not have the public profile it once had, but perhaps that is part of its charm.

It is not trying to be a modern commercial spectacle. It is a living club regatta with deep roots, serious racing, beautiful trophies, and boats that look as though they have sailed straight out of a black-and-white photograph.

The old picture at the top of this article tells one part of the story. The racing this week will tell the next part.

The same river. The same reach. The same class. The same Queen’s Cup.



More than a hundred years later, the A-Raters still gather at Bourne End, still race for one of the great trophies of Thames sailing, and still remind us that some traditions are not kept alive by being put behind glass.

They are kept alive by launching the boat, hoisting the sail, and racing hard.

Monday, 18 May 2026

The Big Reveal


 This is our first look at our new A-Rater Champagne. We pull the tatty covers off to reveal one of the fastest sailing boats on the River Thames.


Friday, 15 May 2026

Getting into Sailing Sailing with Fair Isle: Our Competent Crew Adventure in Croatia


Sailing with Fair Isle: Our Competent Crew Adventure in Croatia

A week of sailing, learning, filming, laughter, near-misses, great instruction, and many stories that never made it into the final film.

One of the joys of learning to sail later in life is that every course becomes much more than just a certificate. It becomes a story.

Our RYA Competent Crew course in Croatia was certainly that.

We sailed for a week with the Sailing Fair Isle crew — Steve and Judy — along with their friends Jane and Barry. On our boat were Ros and me, together with John and Emily, who were undertaking their Day Skipper course. Guiding us through it all was our instructor, Tadek, who was only 20 at the time and turned 21 the day after the course finished.

That sounds impossibly young when you are a 65+ learner still occasionally wondering which rope does what, but Tadek was excellent: calm, clear, patient, and quietly confident. Exactly what you need when a boat full of adults is trying to look competent while not always being quite as competent as hoped.

The Sailing Fair Isle Film

Steve and Judy have now produced a video of the course, and it is wonderful to see the week from another perspective.

Watch the Sailing Fair Isle video here:
[Insert Sailing Fair Isle YouTube link]

Their film captures the spirit of the week: the Croatian coastline, the boats, the training, the manoeuvres, the laughter, and the shared experience of learning afloat.

Of course, as always with sailing, the film only tells part of the story.

Behind every smooth-looking clip there were missed lines, forgotten instructions, unexpected wind shifts, confused looks, and at least one person trying to work out whether they were meant to be pulling, easing, coiling, fending off, or simply getting out of the way.

Our Own Croatia Sailing Blog Series

I have been writing the full diary of the trip on PMR Sailing, covering not just the course, but the whole adventure: the travel, the preparation, the first impressions of Croatia, the boat handling, the scenery, the mistakes, the meals, the filming, and all the little moments that make a sailing course memorable.

You can follow the Croatia series here: I am still writing it all

PMR Sailing:
https://pmrsailing.uk

Two Boats, Two Stories

One of the most interesting parts of the week was that it was not just one course on one boat.

We had our monohull experience, while Steve and Judy were also looking at the world of cruising from the perspective of people used to sailing and filming their own adventures. There was also the wider comparison between different boats, different crews, and different expectations.

It made the whole week feel less like a course and more like a floating documentary project.

There were cameras everywhere. Steve and Judy were filming. I was filming. Judy was often filming from angles that made things look far more elegant than they felt at the time. I was also trying to capture enough footage for the PMR Sailing channel, while simultaneously remembering what Tadek had just said.

This is harder than it sounds.

A sailing course requires concentration. Filming a sailing course requires another brain entirely. Unfortunately, I had only brought the usual one.

Learning with John and Emily

John and Emily were doing their Day Skipper course, which added another layer to the week.

While we were learning the practical skills of competent crew work — sail handling, knots, lines, fenders, lookout duties, steering, safety routines and general usefulness — John and Emily were dealing with passage planning, pilotage, navigation, decision-making and boat handling at a higher level.

It was fascinating to see the two courses running alongside each other.

The Competent Crew course teaches you how to be useful on board.

The Day Skipper course teaches you how to become responsible for the boat.

Those are very different things.

It also made me realise how much there is to learn. Every time I thought I had understood one part of sailing, another three parts appeared just over the horizon.

Tadek: The 20-Year-Old Instructor

It would be easy to underestimate an instructor who was only 20.

That would have been a mistake.

Tadek was excellent. He was patient without being vague, clear without being bossy, and confident without showing off. He knew when to demonstrate, when to explain, when to let us try, and when to step in before we did something memorable for the wrong reasons.

The fact that he turned 21 the day after the course made the whole thing even more impressive.

At 20, I was not teaching adults to sail yachts around Croatia. I was probably still trying to work out how to reverse a trailer without making it a public entertainment event.

What the Film Shows — and What It Cannot Show

The Sailing Fair Isle film gives a lovely overview of the week, but there were many more adventures than could possibly fit into one video.

There were moments of concentration, confusion, quiet achievement, and mild panic. There were beautiful anchorages, harbour manoeuvres, fenders everywhere, ropes being thrown, ropes being missed, and ropes being coiled with varying degrees of artistic interpretation.

There were also the little human moments:

  • early mornings on deck
  • the strange luxury of a proper shore facility
  • shared breakfasts
  • shopping for boat supplies
  • laughing about mistakes
  • watching other crews
  • trying to look relaxed when approaching a harbour wall
  • discovering that wind noise can ruin otherwise perfect video footage

These are the details that make the blog series worth writing.

A film can show the sailing.

A blog can tell the story behind the sailing.

From River Sailing to Croatia

For me, much of my sailing has been on the River Thames at Upper Thames Sailing Club.

Croatia was very different.

The river teaches precision. You are always aware of banks, trees, moorings, gusts, shadows, stream, and very limited space.

The sea gives you more room, but also asks different questions. You think more about weather, distance, navigation, harbours, anchorages, and how the day fits together as a passage.

Some skills transferred well. Looking around, balancing the boat, listening to instructions, and staying calm all mattered.

Other things felt completely new.

A yacht is not a dinghy. A harbour wall is not a Thames mooring. And a 47-foot boat does not stop just because you have suddenly decided that stopping would now be convenient.

Why This Week Matters

The course was not just about gaining a qualification.

It was about confidence.

It was about understanding what happens on a cruising yacht.

It was about learning how to be useful rather than decorative.

It was about seeing how filming, sailing, teaching and storytelling can all come together.

It was also part of a much bigger PMR Sailing journey: learning to sail later in life, recording the process honestly, and hopefully encouraging others to have a go.

You do not need to be young to learn something new.

You do not need to know everything before you start.

You do, however, need a good instructor, a sense of humour, and ideally a camera that is not pointing at your feet during the best part of the manoeuvre.

Watch the Film, Then Read the Story

Steve and Judy’s Sailing Fair Isle video is a wonderful record of the week.

My blogs add the diary, the details, the mistakes, the reflections, and the bits that happened just outside the camera frame.

Together, they tell the story of a remarkable week in Croatia: two courses, several crews, many cameras, one excellent young instructor, and a great deal of learning.

Watch the Sailing Fair Isle video:
https://youtu.be/8Zo-0eIWnIA?si=MA4a_-SlOFYvaQOw

Read the full PMR Sailing Croatia series:
https://pmrsailing.uk


Thursday, 14 May 2026

Sailing on the Thames vs Sailing at Sea – What Changes?

 


Sailing on the Thames vs Sailing at Sea – What Changes?

“The river teaches precision. The sea teaches anticipation.”

Having recently swapped the familiar waters of the River Thames for the sparkling blue expanse of the Adriatic during our RYA Competent Crew adventure in Croatia, I discovered something rather important.

Sailing is sailing…

…but also, sailing is absolutely not the same at all.

I had gone out there thinking, rather optimistically, that my time helming our RS Toura on the Thames at Upper Thames Sailing Club would mean I’d be gliding around Croatia like some sort of seasoned sea dog.

Reality, as it often does, had other ideas.

What did transfer surprisingly well? Quite a lot.

What completely threw me? Also quite a lot.

So here’s my honest comparison between learning on the Thames and sailing at sea.


The River Is Narrow. The Sea Is… Not.

On the Thames, space is always part of the puzzle.

You’re sailing between banks, dodging moored boats, eyeing overhanging trees, avoiding paddleboards, trying not to upset rowers, and occasionally wondering whether the geese have right of way. (I suspect they believe they do.)

Every tack matters.

Turn too late and you run out of river.

Turn too early and you lose your advantage.

The river demands precision.

Every movement is measured.

By contrast, the Adriatic felt gloriously enormous.

When we first motored out, I remember looking around and thinking:

"Surely there must be some obstacles somewhere?"

Nope.

Just sea.

Miles and miles of sea.

At first this feels wonderfully liberating.

Then slightly terrifying.

Because with all that space comes decisions.

No obvious shoreline reference.

No handy tree to aim for.

No familiar club jetty.

Just charts, bearings, wind direction, and the quiet suspicion you may be heading vaguely toward Italy.


Wind Behaves Very Differently

On the Thames, wind is sneaky.

Trees, buildings, bends in the river, moored cruisers, clubhouses—all interfere.

One minute you’re moving nicely.

Next minute the sails flap uselessly while another boat thirty metres away appears to be enjoying a private weather system.

River wind is messy.

Unpredictable.

Occasionally downright rude.

In Croatia?

The wind felt cleaner.

More established.

More honest.

When the breeze filled in, it generally arrived with purpose rather than as a random insult.

That said…

Sea winds bring their own surprises.

Thermal winds can build steadily.

Weather systems matter far more.

And unlike the Thames, if the wind changes significantly, you may be several miles from where you’d quite like to be.

That gets your attention rather quickly.


The Thames Current vs Sea Tides

This was one of the biggest differences.

On the Thames, I’m used to current.

You learn quickly that the river is always trying to assist or sabotage your plans.

Usually sabotage.

Approaching a mooring upstream requires thought.

Turning near a mark needs timing.

Manoeuvres are never quite as simple as they look on paper.

But tides at sea are a different beast entirely.

Not just because they change direction.

But because they affect planning on a much bigger scale.

A tidal stream can help or hinder your entire passage.

Miss the timing and your neat little trip becomes much longer, slower, and considerably more educational.

Thankfully, Croatia’s line-of-sight island sailing made navigation manageable, but I quickly appreciated how much bigger passage planning becomes once tides enter the equation.

The Thames teaches local awareness.

The sea teaches strategic thinking.


Boat Handling Feels Completely Different

An RS Toura dinghy responds instantly.

Tiny tiller movement?

Immediate reaction.

Crew shifts weight?

The whole boat notices.

Everything is direct, immediate, and occasionally dramatic.

A 47-foot yacht?

That’s a different conversation.

There’s momentum.

Inertia.

Delay.

Planning ahead.

You don’t merely turn.

You begin a turning process.

Commands become earlier.

Actions become slower.

Mistakes become more expensive.

Coming alongside a harbour wall in Croatia required far more anticipation than bringing a dinghy onto the club pontoon.

There’s no flicking the tiller and hoping for the best.

Well, technically there is.

But only once.


Reading the Water Matters in Different Ways

On the Thames, reading water is essential.

You look for:

  • Faster current
  • Slacker water
  • Wind shadows
  • Shallow edges
  • Debris
  • River traffic
  • Reflections that hint at gusts

It becomes a very local skill.

At sea, the water tells a different story.

Wave patterns reveal wind strength.

Ripples show gusts.

Changes in colour may suggest depth.

Swells indicate distant weather.

Boat wake behaviour tells you about motion and balance.

I found this fascinating.

The sea feels bigger, but it still talks to you.

You simply have to learn a different language.


What Transferred Surprisingly Well?

Some skills moved across beautifully.

Sail Awareness

Understanding sail trim, points of sail, and how the boat behaves relative to the wind absolutely helped.

That knowledge transfers directly.


Communication

Clear communication between helm and crew matters everywhere.

Probably more so on a larger yacht.

A muttered instruction doesn’t help when someone is at the mast and someone else is wrestling with lines.


Rope Handling

Knots remain gloriously unchanged.

A bowline in Croatia is still a bowline.

This was deeply reassuring.


Situational Awareness

Constantly looking around—something river sailing drills into you—is incredibly useful at sea.

Traffic, wind shifts, other vessels, hazards.

The habit transfers perfectly.


What Felt Completely Alien?

Mooring Stern-To

Mediterranean berthing is not like popping back onto your river mooring.

Approaching backwards toward a harbour wall while attempting to look competent is a special experience.

Particularly while being filmed.


Living Afloat

Day sailing on the Thames is civilised.

Go sailing.

Come home.

Tea.

Biscuits.

Possibly a hot shower.

Living aboard?

Entirely different.

Compact spaces.

Heads etiquette.

Sleeping in a moving wardrobe.

Everything requiring a checklist.


Navigation

On the Thames, navigation is mostly:

"Don’t hit that."

At sea:

  • charts
  • GPS
  • bearings
  • pilotage
  • weather
  • route planning
  • contingency plans

A completely different scale of thinking.


My Biggest Surprise?

How much confidence the river had quietly given me.

I expected to feel completely out of my depth.

And yes, there were plenty of unfamiliar moments.

But the foundations were there.

Wind awareness.

Boat balance.

Communication.

Observation.

Decision-making.

The Thames had taught useful habits.

The sea simply demanded I use them earlier, further ahead, and with a little less panic.


Final Thoughts

If you sail on a river and wonder whether those skills will transfer to sea sailing…

Yes.

Absolutely.

But not perfectly.

River sailing teaches accuracy.

Sea sailing teaches planning.

River sailing sharpens reactions.

Sea sailing rewards anticipation.

Both are brilliant teachers.

And both occasionally make you look ridiculous.

Which, if we’re honest, is part of the fun.

​The arrival of Champagne.

The Arrival of Champagne

Some boats arrive with quiet dignity. Others prefer to make an entrance.

Champagne, it seems, belongs firmly in the second category.

The plan sounded perfectly straightforward. A good friend of mine—fellow Thames A-Rater syndicate owner and Chairman of the Merlin Rocket Association—kindly agreed to collect Champagne from Nottingham and tow her down to her new home at Upper Thames Sailing Club in Bourne End.

Simple.

What could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, quite a lot.

At first, everything was going remarkably smoothly. The trailer behaved itself, the brakes worked well, and Champagne was making steady progress southwards towards the Thames.

Then came the routine service station stop.

Now, service stations are normally places for overpriced coffee, suspicious sandwiches, and emergency packets of mints—not marine engineering solutions.

But while stretching his legs, Stuart happened to glance at the trailer and noticed something rather alarming.

One of the D-rings securing the cradle to the trailer had rusted away completely and snapped.

Not exactly the sort of discovery you want halfway through transporting a classic racing yacht.

Fortunately, Stuart is exactly the sort of person you want in that situation: practical, calm, and apparently well-versed in the strange retail offerings of motorway service stations.

“It’s amazing what you can buy in a service station,” he later remarked.

And indeed, it is.

Somehow, a suitably robust webbing strap was sourced, the boat was re-secured, and Champagne continued her journey safely to Bourne End.

Crisis averted.

Mostly.

Back at Upper Thames Sailing Club, we had carefully cleared space in the lean-to, ready for Champagne’s grand arrival.

Naturally, another boat had beaten her to it.

Because of course it had.

So Champagne’s first welcome to the club involved a slight logistical reshuffle and the timeless boating question:

“Where exactly are we putting this, then?”

Still, she is here.

And that is the important bit.

Standing beside her, the reality of the project begins to sink in.

She definitely needs a new cover.

In fact, before anything else, I suspect the first proper job will be to raise the mast and create some sort of temporary tent arrangement to keep the weather out while work begins. Owning a classic sailing boat appears to involve as much improvised architecture as actual sailing.

Then comes the restoration itself.

Cleaning.
Inspecting.
Repairing.
Learning what I’ve accidentally bought.
Possibly discovering alarming things hidden under fittings.

And all while trying to maintain the optimistic belief that this is entirely sensible.

Of course, every project needs a ridiculous target.

Ours?

Getting Champagne ready for Bourne End Week.

For those unfamiliar, this is when the Thames A-Raters gather to compete for the Queen’s Cup—one of the highlights of the racing calendar.

Is this realistic?

Almost certainly not.

Is that going to stop us dreaming?

Absolutely not.

After all, if you’re restoring a boat called Champagne, optimism rather comes with the name.

The adventure begins. 







The Champagne Project: What Needs Restoring First?

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