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. 







Wednesday, 13 May 2026

Learning Reverse Mooring

Learning Reverse Mooring

Being taught and practising stern mooring at a harbour in Croatia as my wife an I did the competent crew course with Sunsail. Here Emily who is revising her Day skipper course and John her Dad take the boat in stern first on their first attempts.

Monday, 11 May 2026

Day 4


Day 4 – We Get Underway

Day 1 of the RYA Competent Crew Course

An Early Start in the Marina

We woke up early, around 7:15am. I got dressed and made the short walk to the shore facilities. The water was perfectly still and the light over the marina was beautiful, so naturally I hurried back for the camera before breakfast.

Breakfast consisted of finishing off the sliced loaf Ros had bought so that it did not go to waste. Thankfully, it turned out to be rather good bread, especially with strawberry jam.

Soon afterwards, our instructor Tadek arrived and explained the plan for the day. Shortly after that, Steve and Judy from Sailing Fair Isle appeared ready to film, although there was one immediate problem — the cabin was far too dark for useful filming. They wisely decided to disappear until after the lengthy safety briefing.


Meeting the Crew Properly

During our first discussions, Tadek had already worked out everyone’s experience level.

John and Emily had previously completed their Day Skipper course some years ago but had not really used the skills since, so they were effectively on a refresher course.

Rosamund and I, despite never having stepped aboard a yacht before, had both completed our RYA Level 1 sailing courses, while I had also completed Level 2 and we both held Powerboat Level 2 qualifications. That meant Tadek could skip over some of the absolute basics and move more quickly onto the things we genuinely did not know.


The Long Safety Briefing

The first major task of the day was an extensive safety briefing.

We learnt about:

  • Bilges
  • Gas supplies
  • Radios
  • Fire procedures
  • Flooding procedures
  • Emergency routines
  • Secondary drowning

Then came the paperwork where we effectively signed our lives away, filling in emergency contact forms and declaring medical conditions.

I had nothing particularly exciting to declare, but Ros felt it was important to mention her inability to consistently distinguish left from right, or indeed port from starboard.

Once the paperwork was complete, we moved on deck to identify all the various systems and safety equipment. The most memorable item was undoubtedly the whipstaff — the emergency steering system — which appeared to require the strength of three Olympic rowers to move.

We located the liferaft and were carefully informed why we ideally never wanted to use it. We discussed flares, emergencies, fires, flooding and every possible disaster scenario imaginable. By the end of the hour-and-a-half briefing, we felt simultaneously safer and slightly more nervous.


Preparing Petra III for Departure

Once the briefing finally finished, Steve and Judy returned to film us preparing the yacht for departure and interviewing Tadek on the foredeck for their documentary series.

Our first practical task was removing and securing the gangplank. John and I managed this successfully.

Then we prepared the stern for departure, warmed up the engine, and released the mooring lines in sequence. Tadek demonstrated how simply changing throttle settings could swing the bow one way or another with remarkable precision.

My first official duty was standing on the bow as lookout while we manoeuvred out into the busy marina channel.


Wrestling with the Fenders

Next came the fenders.

These had to be removed from the side of the boat and carefully secured in the sail locker. Some people simply threw them in. Tadek, however, believed in doing things properly.

This involved lying flat on the deck and reaching deep into the sail locker to tie each one individually to the ladder rung below. It was surprisingly awkward and an excellent introduction to the glamorous world of yacht crew work.


Man Overboard Drill

Once clear of the marina and out near the headland, Tadek decided it was time for the most important exercise of the day — the man overboard drill.

A bucket and buoy attached together by rope became our unfortunate “casualty”, which I ceremonially threw overboard.

My job was then to point continuously at the “person in the water” while the boat manoeuvred back around. Emily prepared the horseshoe lifebuoy and Danbuoy — the long floating marker pole used to make casualties easier to spot.

Eventually we returned alongside and recovered the bucket and buoy from the windward side of the boat.

Nobody fell in. Which was encouraging.


Under Engine Towards Lunch

With the drill completed, we motored through the main channel towards Fumija, a small island north of Čiovo — the very island we had unsuccessfully tried to drive to a few days earlier.

The journey lasted about an hour and a half and covered around five nautical miles under engine power.

Lunch spot - To Anchor in the shallow part off of Fumija 
 
43°28'53.15"N  
16°14'12.74"E  
as opposed to what it said in the Ships Log 43°30'25.4"N 16°016'10.306"E which placed the boat somewhere on a hill in Čiovo


Learning to Anchor

At Fumija, we learnt how to anchor properly.

This became my responsibility. I lowered the anchor chain while carefully counting the coloured markers every ten metres.

One finger meant 10 metres.
Two fingers meant 20 metres.
Three fingers meant 30 metres.
And finally four fingers signalled 40 metres of chain deployed.

Meanwhile Tadek explained to John and Emily how to reverse gently against the anchor to ensure it was properly dug into the seabed.

Lunch was simple but perfectly acceptable — bread, cheese, ham and, in my case, what can only be described as an industrial-strength slice of lettuce.


Raising the Anchor Again

After lunch it was time to recover the anchor.

This involved hauling the chain back aboard while signalling to the helm which direction the chain was leading so the boat could remain positioned correctly above the anchor.

Indicating “the chain is behind us” using arm gestures took rather more practice than expected.


First Time Sailing Petra III

Heading towards the island of Šolta and the harbour of Maslinica, the wind began to build slightly and it was finally time to hoist the sails.

The weather looked threatening enough for wet weather jackets, although in the end it never actually rained.

We turned head-to-wind and learnt how to raise the mainsail using the winches and rope jammers. Emily bravely stood at the mast manually hauling sail while I worked the lines back in the cockpit. Eventually I was promoted to using the electric winch for the final tightening.

The sequence of ropes, jammers, cleats and winches felt confusing at first, but slowly started to make sense.


Learning to Tack

Once underway under sail, we practised tacking repeatedly.

Everyone took turns:

  • Steering
  • Releasing the jib sheets
  • Grinding the winches
  • Pulling the sails across

Even with the mechanical advantage of the winches, it was hard physical work.

By now the clouds had vanished completely and the Croatian sunshine returned in full force.


The Dolphins That Got Away

Over the radio, Michael — the Senior Instructor aboard a catamaran — announced excitedly that dolphins were riding his bow wave about 500 metres away.

Naturally we altered course to investigate.

Ros thought she saw a few near his boat, but by the time we arrived the dolphins had disappeared. Either they had moved on, or they had heard five trainee sailors approaching and wisely decided against further involvement.


Arriving at Maslinica Marina

Our overnight destination was the marina at Maslinica.

Unlike a town quay, marinas cost more, but they came with excellent shower and toilet facilities — a trade-off nobody objected to.

Before entering harbour, we practised what Tadek called:

  • Fenders
  • Tenders
  • Senders
  • Boat hooks

Fenders had to be rigged correctly using clove hitches. The tender dinghy had to be moved forward rather than towed astern. Stern lines had to be prepared and coiled for throwing. Finally the boat hook was made ready to grab the submerged lazy lines.

Steve and Judy chose to anchor outside the harbour, but we headed into the marina stern-first under the guidance of the marineros.

Ros and I handled the ropes while John and Emily steered under Tadek’s supervision. Once the stern lines were ashore, I collected the lazy lines and secured the bow to stop the yacht drifting.

And somehow, remarkably, we ended up safely moored.


An Evening Meal with Sailors and Cats

Maslinica was quiet this early in the season and many restaurants remained closed. That left us with essentially one realistic dining option — unfortunately not the culinary highlight of the holiday.

Most of us selected breaded chicken and chips, which appeared to be the safest option on the menu.

The evening included:

  • Steve and Judy from Sailing Fair Isle
  • Barry from Adventures of an Old Seadog
  • Jane, a wonderfully chatty journalist who had reported during the Serbian conflict years earlier
  • Michael and his catamaran trainees
  • Our crew from Petra III

Some of the group enjoyed local beers while others sampled rather better wine than the previous evening.

Meanwhile, around seven or eight cats wandered around the harbour hoping for scraps from unsuspecting sailors.


Downloading Footage and Ending the Day

Back aboard Petra III, we made full use of the marina showers before settling down for the evening.

The final jobs of the day involved downloading photographs and video footage onto the computer and watching another episode of Bones before finally heading to bed after our first full day as competent crew trainees.

 


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