Oops! A List of (Minor) Sailing Mishaps

pmrsailing.uk – Adventures on the River Thames at UTSC

They say sailing builds character. They don’t often mention how—but I’m fairly sure it involves a generous helping of near-capsizes, unexpected rope failures, and the odd bruised ego. So, in the spirit of honesty (and mild embarrassment), here’s a list of our recent “oops” moments aboard the RS Toura.

⚓ 1. The Cleated Mainsail and the Gybing Surprise

We all know that cleating the mainsail before a gybe is frowned upon. It’s right up there with stepping into the boat before checking the bung.

But there we were, mid-race, wind behind us, everything going (suspiciously) smoothly… until the boom snapped over with gusto during a gybe—and the mainsail was still cleated.

Cue sudden heeling, flailing limbs, and a moment of slow-motion drama as Paul launched himself from windward to leeward in a heroic Superman dive that can only be described as nautically athletic.

The boat stayed upright. My heart rate did not.

🪢 2. The Rope That Cried "Snap!"

Midway through a brisk lap, I heard a sound no sailor wants to hear—"twang!" followed by the equally worrying “...was that important?”

Yes. Yes it was.

One of the lower control lines had snapped clean in two. Not one of the flashy ropes you show off to the race officer, but an important one nonetheless.

We managed to jury-rig something passable with a spare bit of string (and a prayer). But it did highlight a key lesson: ropes age faster than sailors admit, and maintenance isn't just something you do when it’s sunny and you’re bored.

🪢 3. The Halyard That Gave Up

With only minutes to the start of a race (and with all the usual faffery complete), we triumphantly hauled up the mainsail... or at least tried to.

Halfway up, the halyard gave a pathetic little snap, the sail slithered down like a defeated curtain, and we stood there blinking at it, as if shocked by the sheer audacity of rope to retire mid-shift.

We didn’t start the race on time. But we did learn the emotional weight of silence on a pontoon. We were also amazed at all the stories we heard of similar and worse mishaps and several members of the club heeled the boat over and helped us thread a new halyard.

🌳 4. Running Aground (Elegantly) Under the Willow Tree

The wind had died (as it does) and the current took over (as it does). As we glided peacefully—but irresistibly—towards the bank, we became intimately acquainted with the willow tree.

We ran aground with such grace it almost looked intentional. For a moment, I considered naming the manoeuvre. “The Willow Park.” Sounds nautical, no? The is a short version of the video of this incident.

🌿 5. The Iris Incident

As crew, I take full responsibility for this one. In an effort to be helpful during a tack, I whipped the jib across too early.

This had the unfortunate effect of turning us slightly too soon—right into a patch of irises by the riverbank. I don’t think the plants survived. We did. But the conversation on board was... quiet for a while.

🛶 6. Too Late = Too Crunchy

Of course, there’s a flip side. On another outing, I didn’t move the jib in time and we crashed full speed (well, gentle-drift speed) into the marina deck.

We just missed the boats, but the sound of fibreglass sliding against wood is surprisingly loud. And attracts attention. From everyone. Who now calls it “that thing you did that time.”

📡 7. The Vanishing GPS

During a capsize drill, our trusty GPS—a loyal friend for so many adventures—parted ways with its tether and vanished beneath the waves.

It didn’t beep, didn’t flash, just floated off silently. Possibly on a voyage of its own. If anyone finds a very confused GPS showing 0.3 knots in a lily bed, it’s ours.

🧼 Honourable Mentions

That time the rudder didn’t lock in and popped up mid-tack.
The sailing gloves that mysteriously vanished, later found in the boat, soaked and slightly ashamed.

🧭 Lessons Learned (But Probably Not for Long)

Don’t cleat the mainsail if you're about to gybe. Just... don’t.
Check your lines. If it’s frayed, replace it. If it looks fine, check again.
Pack spares. Lots of spares. Including hats.
Make sure your crew is agile, fearless, and has the reflexes of a caffeinated squirrel (thanks again, Paul). I am certainly not.
Most of all: keep laughing. Because sailing, especially on the Thames, is part skill, part wind… and part comedy sketch.

Want more tales of triumph, terror, and tangled tell-tales?
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📝 Final Thoughts

If you're ever feeling bad about a sailing mishap, remember:

You're not alone.
Most mistakes make great blog material.
We’re all just one unexpected gust from a comedy skit.

So here’s to halyards that hold, jibs that behave, and GPS units that stay attached.

But honestly? The mishaps make the memories. And they’re excellent fuel for the clubhouse bar chat.

Want more tales of aquatic almost-catastrophes?
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🎥 Watch the videos (and spot the bits we edited out...)
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Thursday, 28 August 2025