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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

 

Day 5 – Learning to Steer with Confidence

Day 5 – Learning to Steer with Confidence

Monday 20th April – Day 2 of the RYA Competent Crew Course

Early Morning Reflections on the Quayside

I was awake quite early at around 7am, sitting on the quayside writing the blog after making a visit to the shore facilities — far roomier and considerably more civilised than the tiny “head” on the yacht. In fact, I even took the camera into the gents to record the instructional sign explaining the correct use of the loo brush. Clearly, marina management had seen things… terrible things.

Emily, having sensibly retired early the previous evening, was still fast asleep, so I slipped quietly off the boat to avoid disturbing her. Around the marina, several other crews were already stirring into life. The early morning sunshine suggested another fine Croatian day ahead, and all the weather apps I was obsessively checking — including Orca — indicated that the wind would strengthen later.

Navigation Planning – The Traditional Way

Tadek appeared shortly afterwards asking about shopping arrangements. Sunsail supplied breakfast and lunch provisions, and we still had plenty of reasonably fresh bread left alongside our now-famous Lidl strawberry jam. Tadek supplied fresh /chocolate Croissants.

John soon returned from the shore facilities and joined me studying the weather forecasts. Today was his navigation day as part of the Day Skipper course. The previous evening he had carefully planned our route from Maslinica on the island of Šolta to Stari Grad on the island of Hvar — a journey of around 23 nautical miles.

Although modern sailing relies heavily on chart plotters and apps, the RYA still insists that students learn proper traditional navigation. John had spent considerable time plotting bearings, calculating course changes, and preparing waypoints the old-fashioned way using charts and navigation tools rather than simply pressing buttons on an iPad.

The Cost of a Night in Paradise

Before departure, Tadek and I walked to the marina office where I paid the €100 mooring fee for the night. It felt rather expensive for what amounted to a few hours tied to a wall — although we would later discover that this was far from the most expensive overnight stop of the trip.

Meeting Up with the Fair Isle Crew

Steve arrived in their dinghy and chatted with Tadek about the plans for the day and where we intended to sail. Their crew aboard Sailing Fair Isle were filming their own adventure, so there was plenty of swapping information between boats.

Steering Practice Begins

Before John could put his carefully prepared navigation plan into action, Tadek had other ideas.

At around 9:30am, after breakfast and with everyone properly fuelled, we prepared to leave the harbour. I released the lazy lines while John took the helm. One by one we cast off the stern lines and motored slowly out into open water.

Then the real training began.

Each of us took turns at the helm practising turning manoeuvres using only the engine and no sails. We selected headings and then imagined turning either 90 degrees to port or starboard. Sometimes we practised rapid turns using full lock on the wheel before straightening up just before the desired heading. Other times we simulated slower, more controlled gybes.

After plenty of forward manoeuvres came reverse steering.

Discovering That Reversing a Yacht Is Slightly Ridiculous

Steering a yacht backwards is an experience somewhere between driving a supermarket trolley with a wonky wheel and attempting to reverse a caravan blindfolded. We tried, standing sitting, facing the wrong way all in order to gain better control.

We practised steering astern along imaginary courses and learning how to stop the yacht accurately. I discovered that sometimes standing on what felt like entirely the wrong side of the wheel actually gave better control. Whilst I did my go Steve in a dinghy was zipping around our boat filming.

Tadek also taught us how to tell if the boat was truly stationary. The trick was to line up a nearby object with something distant ashore. If they stayed aligned, the boat was stopped. We could also study bubbles moving past the stern. At the time this all seemed slightly obsessive, but later we discovered exactly why these skills mattered.

Stern-To Mooring Practice

Now reasonably competent at stopping and steering — including my wife and Emily — we returned to the harbour wall to practise stern-to mooring.

We approached the harbour at 90 degrees before reversing carefully towards the wall, aiming for bollards while another training yacht from a different company practised exactly the same manoeuvre nearby.

[360 video of this]

A short burst of reverse power stopped the boat neatly alongside, ready for lines to be thrown ashore.

John practised repeatedly until he could complete the manoeuvre confidently. Emily then had several turns before John returned for a few extra attempts just to make absolutely certain he had mastered it.

Underway Towards Hvar

Once manoeuvres were complete, we contacted the Sailing Fair Isle crew to let them know we were finally underway.

Out came the hand-bearing compass. In turn we all took bearings while John adjusted the course according to his planned route.

Then came the call everyone enjoys hearing:

“Let’s get the sails up.”

Hoisting Sail

John organised the crew efficiently.

Ros released the kicker. Emily moved to the mast and began hoisting the mainsail by hand while I hauled in slack from the cockpit. Once the sail became too heavy to raise manually, I switched to the electric winch to complete the final few metres.

We tightened the kicker, adjusted the topping lift, and then turned our attention to the jib.

Since I was already at the winch, I unloaded the halyard neatly before feeding the furling line onto the drum – this was four times around the drum because the rope was thinner and then into the teeth at the top and beginning to unfurl the jib while Ros controlled the working sheet on the opposite side to keep tension on the sail.

Then the engine went off.

Suddenly everything changed.

The noise disappeared. The yacht became calm and peaceful. All we could hear was the hiss of water beneath the bow and the wind whistling gently through the sails.

It was magical.

Sailing Properly at Last

John, now fully in skipper mode, called out landmarks and bearings from the chart while we checked headings and adjusted course towards Hvar.

With the yacht settled on course and little immediate work required, Tadek decided it was time for knot practice.

Knot-Tying Lessons at Sea

The Competent Crew course involves learning an alarming number of knots.

We practised:

• Clove hitches for attaching fenders
• Figure-of-eight stopper knots
• Round turn and two half hitches for securing the tender
• Bowlines for loops around cleats
• Sheet bends and double sheet bends for joining ropes
• Rolling hitches for controlled sliding loads

We sat there tying and untying ropes repeatedly while the yacht surged steadily onwards across the Adriatic.

Lunch Under Sail

Unlike river sailing on the Thames — where we might tack every 20 or 30 seconds — the yacht remained on the same tack for well over an hour. Once the sails were properly trimmed, all we really needed to do was monitor the tell-tails, something I was becoming surprisingly good at.

Lunch was assembled from the remaining bread supplies.

I produced my now-traditional “half-a-loaf” tuna and lettuce roll while Ros opted for ham and cheese. The others preferred paprika crisps, fruit, and energy drinks.

Tadek continually reminded everyone to drink plenty of water, something that becomes surprisingly important when spending hours in the sun and wind.

The Wind Builds

As we moved further from shore, the wind strengthened from behind us and the yacht surged forward at around 7–8 knots.

That may not sound especially fast compared with a car, but sitting only inches above the water on a heeling yacht made it feel considerably quicker.

We all took turns at the helm, following compass courses and aiming for distant points on Hvar as the island slowly grew larger ahead of us.

Approaching Stari Grad

We arrived off Stari Grad carrying rather a lot of sail and moving fairly quickly, so we spent some time sailing around outside the harbour entrance, tacking back and forth before preparing to enter.

Eventually the engine was started, we turned into the wind, furled the jib, and I carefully lowered the mainsail using the electric winch on slow speed.

Anchor revision

We had some clear water approaching the harbour, so Tadek thought we could do some more anchoring practise. We had two or three goes with John at the helm and  Ros and I as the crew. I did the setting of the anchor and I did the waying the anchor, (27kg and 4m of chain). Emily had crashed asleep in her cabin still wearing her lifejacket.

Now came the real test.

John’s first stern docking under pressure.

John’s First Proper Stern Mooring

Ros and I prepared the fenders using neatly tied clove hitches while Emily moved the tender from the stern to the bow.

We readied the stern lines with bowlines already tied and passed them carefully around the stern rails ready for throwing ashore.

Tadek radioed the harbour requesting a berth. No answer came back, but as we motored along the harbour wall, the marinero gestured where we should go.

John motored slowly beyond the berth before engaging reverse and backing in beautifully.

Emily and Ros threw the stern lines ashore while I grabbed the port lazy line, walked it carefully to the bow, tightened it, and secured it to the cleat. Tadek repeated the process on starboard before guiding John in reverse to tension everything correctly.

The manoeuvre worked perfectly.

An Evening Walk Around the Harbour

The Sailing Fair Isle crew decided to anchor outside the harbour to save the mooring fees and arranged to meet us later for dinner.

Meanwhile Ros and I wandered along the harbour with the Insta360 mounted on its pole filming the evening atmosphere. The harbour stretched far further than we expected, although we did discover a useful supermarket that would prove helpful the following morning.

Dinner in Stari Grad

When we returned, the Fair Isle crew were already aboard our yacht dressed and ready for dinner.

This evening’s meal proved far more successful than the previous night.

Judy and Jane shared a seafood platter for two, Tadek and I enjoyed excellent steaks, while Ros chose beef medallions in mushroom sauce.

We finished with Chocolate brownies and icecream.

Compared with the previous evening’s culinary adventure, this felt positively luxurious.

Another Long Day Ends

An hour or two later we wandered slowly back through the quiet harbour, visited the shore facilities one final time, had a long chat with John, and retired early to bed.

Tomorrow, we suspected, would be another long and demanding day aboard the yacht.

 

Day 1 – The Journey Begins (At a Completely Unreasonable Hour)

The holiday was always planned in three acts:
Two days exploring Croatia, seven days becoming “Competent Crew”, and then three days recovering from whatever happens on the boat.

Naturally, it all began at 2:45am… which is not a civilised time by any definition.

I don’t remember going to sleep. My wife insists we managed about an hour. I remain unconvinced.

The Great 3am Escape

As I staggered out of bed, I suddenly remembered I had left some batteries in my father-in-law’s garden. Because clearly, that’s the sort of thing one deals with in the middle of the night.

Torch in hand, I went on a mini expedition, retrieved the batteries, and returned just in time to meet our taxi.

Our driver was cheerful (far too cheerful for that time of day) and immediately pointed out that Hemel Hempstead turns off its streetlights at 1am.
This meant he had been navigating using guesswork, house lights, and optimism until he spotted me wrestling luggage on the driveway.

We loaded up four bags, two slightly dazed passengers, and one walking stick, and set off.

Airport Adventures

The airport experience was surprisingly smooth. In fact, thanks to my walking stick (which suddenly became a VIP pass), we were ushered through the fast-track lane like minor celebrities.

At one point, a helpful airport assistant even produced a wheelchair — not for me, but for our luggage.
Frankly, this should be standard practice.

Security was its usual mix of confusion and mild suspicion:

• Cameras? Fine.
• Breathing machine? Also fine.
• My wife? Subject to an entire science experiment involving swabs, scanners, and foot analysis.

Eventually, we made it through and settled into the departure lounge for a well-earned sit-down.

Seat 13F – The Flying Observatory

From seat 13F, I had a perfect view over the wing as we took off slightly early.

The flight itself was spectacular:

• London disappeared beneath a blanket of cloud
• France drifted by quietly
• Germany made an appearance, complete with an industrial plume punching through the clouds
• Then came the Alps, with snow-covered peaks rising like something out of a film

Finally, we tracked down the Adriatic coast and descended into Split.

Arrival Chaos (Featuring Technology That Doesn’t Work)

Landing was smooth. Getting off the plane… less so.

Being near the back meant we were among the last off, which deposited us neatly into a very long queue for biometric passport scanners.

The scanners, unfortunately, had other plans and were failing enthusiastically.

After a prolonged stand, a human being intervened (always reassuring), stamped our passports properly, and we were through.

At baggage reclaim, there was exactly one suitcase going round.

Ours.

Make of that what you will.

The Rental Car Lottery

Next challenge: find the hire car.

After wandering through what felt like several kilometres of signage, we discovered a row of small rental offices. Our booking, helpfully, did not say which company it was with.

Cue emergency phone call to the UK.

Thankfully, Paul was awake and confirmed:
Budget (which is Avis in Croatia)

The paperwork was handled by a very pleasant gentleman who also managed to extract a small fortune in insurance fees from us.

Still, we now had a Renault Captur (automatic, thankfully) and set off.

Within minutes, the car began loudly protesting that the back seat belts weren’t fastened.

After a brief roadside stop and some luggage rearrangement, peace was restored.

Lidl… But Not As We Know It

Our first mission: find food.

We located a Lidl… eventually… after going the wrong way first.

Expectations: modern supermarket.
Reality: Lidl as it was about 20 years ago.

Still, we secured essentials:

• Bread
• Tuna
• Croquettes
• Something vaguely pancake-like with ham and cheese (not recommended)

Lunch, Improvisation, and Mild Sunburn

We drove over a bridge to a nearby island (name unknown, but very pleasant) and found a small beach.

It was 25°C. For Brits, this means:

• Shorts immediately
• Shirt optional
• Dignity secondary

We sat down for lunch and quickly realised we had forgotten:

• Plates
• A knife

Solution? My trusty penknife/screwdriver.

Tuna was opened. Rolls were constructed. Survival achieved.

After lunch, I lay in the sun for 30 minutes, turned over to “even things out,” and successfully imprinted the pattern of Croatian stones onto my back.

First Filming Attempt

At around 2:15pm, we recorded our first video introduction to the trip.

Out came the PMR Sailing gold T-shirt, and with my wife behind the camera, we officially began documenting the adventure.

Finding the Apartment (Eventually)

We then drove the short distance to our accommodation… or so we thought.

A helpful lady informed us that “Apartment Kate” was already occupied.

Brief panic.

Then clarification: wrong sister.

A few metres down the road, we found the correct apartment and were warmly welcomed.

The apartment was excellent:

• Fully equipped kitchen
• Washing machine
• Enormous bed (large enough to lose a spouse in)

Trogir – Then and Now

After a short rest (and several fizzy drinks), we walked into Trogir, a place we last visited over 20 years ago.

We crossed the familiar bridge into the old town and found:

• Palm-lined waterfronts
• Rows of impressive yachts
• Restaurants eagerly inviting us in

It’s early season, so every restaurateur was keen for business.

We politely declined (already had food plans) and continued exploring.

Ice Cream (Slight Disappointment)

We finished the evening with ice cream.

Unfortunately, after years of homemade ice cream made with real fruit and cream, this version appeared to contain… neither.

Still, it was cold, sweet, and rounded off the day nicely.

Back Home (Sort Of)

Before bed, we checked in with home.

Paul had been running the business and reported:

• Students happy
• Parametric equations being taught (bravely)
• Minor reliance on Wolfram Alpha over ChatGPT (I’ll let that pass…)

End of Day One

And so, after one very long day:

• We had travelled across Europe
• Successfully navigated Croatian supermarkets
• Filmed our first content
• And survived airport security

Now, finally…

It was time for bed.

High Pressure, No Wind… and a Very Patient Sailor

High Pressure, No Wind… and a Very Patient Sailor

There are few things more deceptive in sailing than a beautiful day.

Blue skies. Warm sunshine. Not a ripple on the water.

Perfect… right?

Well—yes, if you’re having a picnic.
Less so if you’re trying to sail.

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🌤️ What Is “High Pressure” Anyway?

High pressure systems are the atmosphere’s way of saying:

“Let’s all just calm down a bit.”

In simple terms:

• Air is sinking rather than rising
• Clouds struggle to form → clear skies
• Winds are generally light or non-existent

For most people, high pressure means a lovely day.
For sailors, it often means very little wind to work with.

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⛵ The Reality of Sailing in No Wind

You launch with optimism…
You rig everything perfectly…
You push off…

…and then…

Nothing.

The sails hang like damp laundry.
The telltales droop in quiet resignation.
And the boat moves—if at all—at walking pace (on a good day).

On the River Thames, this is even more “fun” because:

• The current is still moving
• Which means you can be going backwards while facing forwards

A wonderful lesson in humility.

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🧠 Why It Feels So Hard

Sailing in light winds isn’t just slow—it’s technically demanding.

Everything matters more:

• Boat balance – even small movements slow you down
• Sail trim – too tight or too loose = no drive
• Weight placement – sit in the wrong place and you stop

And worst of all…

Every mistake is painfully obvious because there’s no wind to hide it.

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🎯 The Skills You Actually Learn

Oddly enough, these frustrating days are some of the best for learning.

You develop:

• Patience (lots of it)
• Feel for the boat
• Awareness of tiny wind shifts
• The ability to spot the faintest ripple on the water

In stronger winds, you can get away with a lot.
In no wind, you have to sail properly.

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😄 The Humorous Reality

There’s a particular moment every sailor knows:

You’re drifting along…
Another boat catches a whisper of wind…
They glide past you majestically…

…and you sit there thinking:

“They must know something I don’t.”

They don’t.
They just found the breeze first.

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🧭 Tactical Tips for High Pressure Days

If you do find yourself out in these conditions:

• Look for wind lines (tiny ripples on the water)
• Keep sails slightly looser than usual
• Minimise movement in the boat
• Watch other boats (they are your wind indicators!)
• Accept that speed is… optional

And most importantly:

👉 Don’t fight it—work with what little wind you have

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🌅 Final Thought

High pressure days teach you something important about sailing:

It’s not always about power.
Sometimes it’s about finesse.

And occasionally…

It’s about drifting gently down the Thames, enjoying the sunshine,

and pretending you meant to go that slowly all along. 

Why “Looking Around” Is the Most Important Sailing Skill

 

Why “Looking Around” Is the Most Important Sailing Skill

There’s a moment when learning to sail where everything feels like it’s happening at once.

The tiller’s in one hand. The mainsheet in the other. The crew is saying something about the jib. The wind shifts. The boat heels. And just as you think you’ve got it under control…

You realise you’ve been staring at the front of the boat the whole time.

Sound familiar?

👀 The Skill No One Teaches First

When I started sailing at the Upper Thames Sailing Club, I thought the most important skills were:

• Steering
• Trimming sails
• Not falling in

All useful… but not the skill.

The real skill?
👉 Looking around. Constantly. Properly. Intentionally.

It sounds simple. It isn’t.

🚤 Why It Matters (Especially on the Thames)

Sailing on a river like the Thames isn’t like being out at sea. It’s busy. It’s narrow. And things happen quickly.

If you’re not looking around, you’re missing:

• 🚤 Other boats (some much bigger than you!)
• 🌬️ Gusts of wind approaching across the water
• 🌊 Changes in current and flow
• ⚓ Moorings, buoys, and obstacles
• 🧭 Where you actually need to go next

I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve been happily sailing along… only to realise we’re heading straight for trouble.

Usually because I was too busy admiring my excellent (and short-lived) sail trim.

🌬️ Reading the Water

Looking around isn’t just about avoiding collisions.

It’s how you see the wind.

• Dark patches on the water? More wind.
• Ripples changing direction? A shift is coming.
• Other boats suddenly heeling? That gust is heading your way next.

The sailors who glide past you effortlessly aren’t lucky.

They’re watching. Constantly.

🧠 Free Speed (Yes, Really)

Here’s the surprising bit.

You don’t need new sails.
You don’t need a faster boat.
You don’t even need more strength.

👉 You just need to look around more.

By spotting wind early, you can:

• Head up slightly and gain speed
• Avoid dead patches
• Position yourself better for the next tack

It’s the cheapest performance upgrade in sailing.

And I like cheap upgrades.

😅 My Personal Failing (and Progress)

I’ll admit it.

I still forget.

I get focused on one thing—usually the wrong thing—and stop scanning.

Then:

• We slow down
• We miss a shift
• Someone overtakes us (again)

But on the days when I do remember to look around?

Everything improves.

Not dramatically. Not instantly.

But noticeably.

And in sailing, that’s often the difference between last place… and slightly less last.

🎯 How to Practise “Looking Around”

Like everything in sailing, it’s a skill you can train:

• 🔄 Scan every 10–15 seconds (make it a habit)
• 👥 Talk to your crew – they can see things you can’t
• 👀 Look behind as well as ahead
• 🌬️ Pick a patch of water and watch it – what’s it doing?
• ⛵ Compare with other boats – who’s faster and why?

It’s not about frantic head-turning.

It’s about calm, regular awareness.

⚓ Final Thought

If you only take one thing onto the water next time, make it this:

👉 Lift your head up and look around.

Because the boat doesn’t just go where you steer it…

It goes where the wind, water, and everything around you allow it to go.

And you won’t see any of that staring at the bow.

One Mast, Two Masts… or Three? How Many Do You Really Need?

 

One Mast, Two Masts… or Three? How Many Do You Really Need?

When I first started sailing on the Thames, I thought a mast was simply… a mast. One stick, one sail (or maybe two), job done.

Then I discovered there are boats with two masts… and even three. Naturally, this led to the obvious question:

👉 Are they better… or just showing off?

Let’s take a look.

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⛵ The One-Mast Boat (Sloop Rig)

Most of us on the river are sailing single-masted boats, known as sloops.

Think of your typical dinghy or modern yacht:

• One mast
• A mainsail
• A jib (front sail)

Why it works:

• Simple to rig and sail
• Efficient upwind
• Perfect for racing and learning

👉 On the Thames, this is king. Less to think about, more time trying not to hit the bank.

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⛵⛵ The Two-Mast Boat (Ketch or Yawl)

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Now things start to get interesting.

A two-masted boat splits the sail area:

• Main mast at the front
• Smaller mizzen mast at the back

Why have two masts?

• Easier sail handling (smaller sails instead of one big one)
• More balance and control
• Ideal for long-distance cruising

Downsides:

• More ropes (sorry… lines)
• More decisions
• More opportunities to get it wrong

👉 Perfect if you like the idea of sailing and mild confusion at the same time.

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⛵⛵⛵ The Three-Mast Boat (Schooner or Tall Ship)

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Three masts? Now we’re into proper sailing history.

These are the grand old vessels:

• Schooners
• Tall ships
• Ocean-crossing legends

Why so many masts?

• Massive sail area spread across multiple sails
• Manageable by a crew (instead of one enormous sail)
• Designed for long voyages before engines existed

Reality check:

• You don’t sail one of these on the Thames
• Unless you want to redecorate several riverside gardens in one go

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🤔 So Which Is Best?

Like most things in sailing…

👉 It depends.

• 1 mast → Simple, fast, ideal for rivers and learning
• 2 masts → Balanced, manageable, great for cruising
• 3 masts → Impressive, historical, needs a crew (and probably a cook)

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⚓ Final Thought

As someone learning to sail at 65+, I can confidently say:

👉 One mast is more than enough to get into trouble with.

Add a second, and I’d need a checklist.
Add a third… and I’d need a project manager.

Learning to Sail at 65+ – What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

 

Learning to Sail at 65+ – What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

Short answer: quite a lot.

When I decided to learn to sail properly at 65+, I had visions of graceful manoeuvres, quiet rivers, and the occasional gentle breeze.

Reality has been… different.

There have been:

• Moments where I confidently steered in entirely the wrong direction
• Times when “duck!” was shouted slightly too late
• Situations where I pulled the correct rope… at completely the wrong time

And then there’s terminology.

Port. Starboard. Sheets. Halyards.
At one point I was convinced everyone was just making words up to confuse me.

But here’s the thing…

Despite all of this, it’s brilliant.

Every session gets a little easier. Every mistake teaches something useful. And every now and then, everything comes together and the boat just… works.

Those moments make all the chaos worthwhile.