Out of interest has any one had experience of a fin keel Hunter Sonata on a drying mud berth – deep soft mud

Round the Island 2016

21st August 2016

by Chris Bentley.

The island in question, Wight, and the bit of water between it and the mainland is subject to an alarming amount of vagaries of tide, windshifts, ferries, and on the RTI, the participation of many who have no clue at all about anything, let alone the racing rules of sailing.

So we enter the race at our peril. In our favour, we have done it before. We have very clever tide charts that tell us where the water flows at which time and a weather forecast on the evening before by Mr Tibbs of (I dare not name the Company).

Start and First Leg

We arrive at the start line in due time. Thank you ISC for making our start so late that I could have a full English before leaving the B&B. We peruse the options and, in the knowledge that ‘up the Green’ is the best tide advantage, we attack the line from well over it, i.e. to the west, on the basis that no other idiots will be there and we will be moving at full chat when we do it and on starboard. What could be better? In fact, we did make a cracking start, not quite as close to the Green as I had planned, but to windward of that fleet bunch…clear air…bingo!

On reaching the Island shore around Egypt Point, exactly as we had planned, we tacked and the jib sheet parted company with the jib. We had some moments of confusion whilst we re-attached and then we were off again. The Solent beat is all about clear air and avoiding Starboards which we did and found Callista, a Cowes Sonata on the way. Callista and ourselves had an interesting tussle up to the Needles. At Hurst Castle there is one of the tide sluices to advantage. Callista got there, we didn’t due to a whole line of AWBs (average white boats) on starboard, so he rounded the Needles Gap between the Varvassie wreck and the chalky bit in front. Damn.

Rapid Reaching

Me, a pensioner with a bus pass decided it was time to hand over to some younger talent so Sharon took the helm and pulled out 5 minutes over Callista on the reach from Needles to St Cat’s point. Great downwind surfing sailing – she is a bit good at that. At St Cat’s I had a memory of us losing the rudder in the 2011 RTI and being a bit worried about parking BFG on the St Cat’s rocks because we were a bit close, we aimed a tad out. Callista didn’t, cut the rocks close and, bugger it, got well in front on the tide sluice to the extent that not only did he massacre Sharon’s five minute lead, he was another five minutes in front. Double bugger.

We proceeded downwind, an interesting course in 10 ft seas and 30 knots and lots of helm movements were required. We lost it once, I blame the water, my crew might not agree, but I insist it was a rogue wave. Minutes later we heard a VHF that Callista had lost her rig. Such a shame as I was looking forward to the tussle up Ryde sands. He and his crew were safe, thank God, and we hope that he will be against us on the Nationals in three weeks time.

Beat (sort of) to the Finish

The bit around Bembridge Ledge buoy was only memorable for the fact that I had room on a big AWB who I had to remind that I needed plenty because clouting it (a massive iron thing) was not something I needed in those weather conditions and he could give me more. Hey ho, that’s RTI all over. Actually, his rounding then got screwed by the followers and I never saw him again.

The beat to the finish was more of a port tack run and a hitch as far inshore as we could – much in contrast to our previous RTIs when we were battling with the old Gaffers for prime position over the Ryde Sands and Bob Fisher laughed when I called for water. But the wind was more west.

The finish off the Snape is a bun fight because anyone who has cut close to the Island shore, as we did, has to navigate the line of starboard boats coming in from mid channel. This is a place where lots of positions are won and lost. Fortunately, we managed to avoid confrontation, although a certain Contessa might not agree, and we were home, but not very dry.

Summing it Up

If you want to know the technical bit, we white-sailed it all the way with No 2 and full main. There wasn’t really any other option. The beat to the Needles was 100% in control. Ditto the reach to St. Cat’s. After that, the dead run to Bembridge Ledge was very demanding. Because the Sonata is such a small, rounded boat, any big sea under her bum will throw her off…as we found. I don’t think shortening sail would have avoided this. I did look at the rig and then I didn’t, because it was scary. I have a Proctor mast which has put up with untold grief over several years. I have no idea how it stays up there. The beat to the finish was tough. We definitely had too much sail up and a reef would have helped up to Ryde Pier. But I was aware of the bun fight that would happen at the finish and wanted full sail up to manage it against a strengthening tide. No idea whether that was a right or wrong decision but we were a bit punch-drunk by that time and the cockpit crew overrode the front girls and we hung on to the full rig all the way.

Any of you who have done RTI will relate to this account. If you haven’t then give it a go. In my opinion it is one of the best challenges and Sonatas have the capacity to do really well. This year it was a big boat race as the seas were too big to manage comfortably with a 20ft waterline but another time it could be very different. Nevertheless, we put our mark on it as probably the smallest boat to finish.

Round Scotland 2015

28th August 2015

by Kim Ross and Douglas Guthrie.

Neither of us can remember when we came up with the idea to sail all the way round Scotland in our little Sonata, Vamonos, but, after a long, cold winter of scraping, sanding, fibre-glassing and painting to get her ready, we soon found ourselves sailing down the Clyde ready for our summer adventure. Starting in Helensburgh at the end of May, our loose plan was to meander our way slowly up the west coast, taking our time to explore as many islands and anchorages as possible before rounding Cape Wrath, heading to Orkney then shooting down the east coast and back through the Forth and Clyde Canal in time for the Sonata National Championships in Helensburgh at the end of July. At only 22.7’, and with no luxuries such as a head or fixed cooking facilities, it was going to be quite a challenge, but also had the potential for a great adventure.

Helensburgh to Crinan

We had a few warm-up weekends before starting the circumnavigation, including an epic cruise from Port Bannatynne to Portavadie in 45+ knots. Except for ripping the leech off the number three jib, the boat held up well. At the end of May, Douglas sailed the boat from Helensburgh to Tarbert to compete at Scottish Series after which the long adventure would begin.A week later, after a long drive from Kingussie (Aberdeen for Doug), a stop-off in Oban for fuel and food and dropping a car at Craobh marina, we arrived in Tarbert, Loch Fyne about 6.30pm on Saturday 30th May. Quickly loading the boat, we waved goodbye to my parents who had very generously helped with travel logistics, and set sail for Ardrishaig in about 15-18 knots. The forecast for the next few days was wet and stormy so we were aiming to get into the Crinan Canal as early as possible the next morning. It was a lovely, fresh downwind sail, and it wasn’t long before we were squeezing onto the pontoon just outside the first lock about 9pm. We tucked into a curry cooked on our new stove and enjoyed a bottle of wine, very happy that our long-planned adventure was finally under way.

We headed into the sea lock about 8.30am on Sunday morning, eager to get going through the canal. We had an hour’s delay, however, waiting for another yacht then with payment queue’s. Time was spent eating porridge and drinking tea to keep warm – it definitely didn’t feel like summer! A few people asked where we were headed, and were surprised when we said “Helensburgh, the long way round”. The forecast for Monday was 50+ knots, so we decided to continue hiding in the canal and take the time to explore the surrounding area. Berthing the boat at Cairnbaan, we followed a path that warned of “seasonal boggy sections” and we both quickly wished our shoes were a bit more waterproof. We aimed for Dunadd, said to be the site of the inauguration of kings in the ancient kingdom of Dalriada. The 15km round walk was well worth the soggy feet. Both of us have been through the canal a few times, but neither of us have taken the time to enjoy the surrounding countryside.

As forecast, the weather the following day was horrendous. After motoring to the Bird Hide, the increasing torrential rain and gale force winds called for an afternoon nap and a three km walk in our foulies to Crinan for coffee, cake then beer and dinner. Although nice to chill out, we were getting a bit fed up of being soaking wet and we were keen to get out to sea and start sailing again.

Crinan to Craobh

We left the canal on Tuesday after three days. The wind was about 20 knots, and we opted for two reefs in the main and the number three jib, hanked on but not set. Sailing towards the Dorus Mor, we could see breaking white waves on the horizon and we were apprehensive as to what lay ahead. As we drew closer, we popped the jib up to help power us through and held on tight. The steep, sharp waves crashed over the bow into the cockpit, knocking us both over, but, moving with the tide, we eventually made it round the point, grinning and pretty chuffed as a yacht double our size had opted not to brave the passage. We were grinning less later on that night as we realised we’d left a small vent open in the anchor locker and our berth in the forepeak was soaking wet…

For the next few days we cruised around the Slate Isles, and, thankfully, the weather slowly improved. After surviving the Dorus Mor, we made our way to Balvicar on the Island of Seil and rode in the dinghy up to the great little inn called Tigh an Truish at the Bridge over the Atlantic for a couple of pints and some warmth by the fire. The next morning we negotiated the Cuan Sound and spent a beautifully sunny afternoon exploring the little island of Easdale, marvelling at the flooded slate quarries and their spectacularly blue waters. It was good to be able to get the cushions and sleeping bag out on deck, and the sunshine helped lift our spirits after a week of relentless rain (at this point we were blissfully unaware that we would count these rare sunny moments on one hand…). Towards the end of week one we headed to Craobh Marina where we planned to leave the boat for a week for Doug to join his pals for a week of sailing further north, and for me to go back for my final week of work.

Craobh to Tobermory

After our week away, topped off by a fantastic wedding at Largiemore, Loch Fyne, we drove back to the boat on Sunday 14th June. Monday was spent re-provisioning and sorting last minute jobs before sailing over to a small anchorage on the Isle of Luing. We cooked chicken curry on our double camp stove in the cockpit before getting a long sleep. The next day, we motored and sailed in light breeze but big swell all the way along the Ross of Mull to a small anchorage called Tinker’s Hole between the Isle of Erraid and Mull. Although a wee bit swelly, the anchorage was amazing, with pink granite rock plunging into turquoise sea. We struggled to sleep with the swell, and Doug even suggested getting up to explore at 5am (I firmly objected). We did finally get up about 8am to big breeze and heavy rain. We had a quick explore on land and a glimpse out to sea before popping up the main (three reefs) and the number three jib. We sailed between rocks and reefs to the Sound of Iona, deciding to continue on and anchor three miles further on at Bunnesan to shelter from the waves. We then walked back along the road and got the CalMac over to Iona to explore the abbey and nunnery and enjoy a tasty meal at Fionnphort.

The next morning, we sailed round the Isle of Staffa then up the west coast of Mull. Although too much wind and swell (2-3 meters) to stop, we got a good view of the black basalt columns of Staffa and glimpsed Fingal’s Cave. Lots of comical little puffins frantically flapped by the boat, cheering us up on an otherwise very cold and damp day. We sailed for about eight hours covering 30 miles, reaching the colourful village of Tobermory about 5pm. We went for a lovely meal, had a peaceful night’s sleep and spent the next morning doing chores and re-provisioning before heading round Ardnamurchan with the tide in the evening.

The Small Isles and onto Skye After spending a night in the deceptively sheltered anchorage of Sanna Bay, we sailed to the Isle of Eigg, spending time enjoying coffee and cake before exploring the island. After taking up the offer of a lift back to the boat, which was gratefully received due to the relentless rain, we continued on to Rum, arriving late on the Saturday evening. The following morning we rose early to take the guided tour of the eccentric Kinloch Castle, complete with skinned tiger rugs and giant Japanese incense burners, before hiring bikes to discover the rest of the island. Through breaks in the low lying clouds which shrouded the Rum Cuillin, we caught glimpses of the mountainous landscape, cycling passed herds of the infamous red deer, highland cows and Rum ponies on our way to Harris and the site of the Bullough’s mausoleum. The rough tracks and undulating landscape made for challenging cycling, and the evening sail to Canna felt long, cold and tiring. Arriving late, we were hoping to pick up one of the ten visitor moorings, but our heart’s sank as more and more masts came into view as we drew closer. After dropping the anchor, we climbed into bed and hoped that, after a week of rain, the sun would be shining in the morning.

We were in luck. We woke to the sun streaming through the windows, and we quickly got up, washed our hair over the side of the boat (with strong objections from Doug who complained of brain freeze!) and ventured ashore for coffee at the delightful little Café Canna.

After a morning exploring and soaking up the glorious sunshine, we decided to move on, hoping to stay in one of the most dramatic anchorages in the western isles, Loch Scavaig. But, the weather had other ideas. As we sailed between the Isle of Soay and Skye, the wind dropped completely and we started the engine. But, the calm was short-lived as, glancing into the distance, we could see a dark line of wind on the horizon. Within minutes, we were hit by gusts of 30 knots, which flipped the dinghy and knocked us down. We quickly reefed the mainsail, swapped to the number three jib and made the decision to continue sailing rather than stopping at Loch Scavaig, where the wind was funneling down the Cuillins, blasting the anchorage with gusts of 40 knots. Turning to sail with the wind, even with the reduced sail we were surfing down the waves, reaching speeds of 11 knots – fast for a boat with a supposed maximum hull speed of six knots! What had been planned as a three-hour sail turned into another long, chilly and windy evening as we decided to continue round the point of Sleat and on to the more sheltered anchorage at Isleornsay, finally picking up a visitor mooring at 11pm. We seemed to be making a habit of cold, late-night cruising and vowed that the next day we would totally relax, read our books and enjoy good food and a few drinks at the Isleornsay Hotel.

That night, the swell pummeled the boat and neither of us slept much despite our exhaustion. The promise to stay put for another night was even stronger, and we spent a lovely day by the fire in the pub resting tired bodies. The following morning, when it was time to move on, we were greeted with flat seas and, unfortunately, more rain. For the first time on the trip, we spent the entire day motoring, journeying passed Glenelg, through the Kyles of Lochalsh and onto Plockton for a quick pit-stop (including a proper hot shower, the first since Tobermory, five days previous!) before reaching the Crowlin Islands around teatime.

We opted to anchor in the ‘eye of the needle’; the deeper, wider pool between the two islands, accessible only two hours either side of high water. But, as we reduced the engine speed to negotiate the narrow, shallow passage to reach the bay, the engine spluttered and died. Great timing. With the tide ebbing, it was a race against time to get the engine re-started and safely navigate into deeper water. Throwing the anchor out to hold us in the center of the four-meter wide channel, Doug worked quickly, concluding that, due to the heavy rain, some water had made its way into the fuel. Unfortunately, when undoing the drainage screw on the carburetor it sheered, leaving a small hole and therefore no pressure. With the tide dropping, we ingeniously re-blocked the hole with the prong of a plastic fork, and fortunately, after a few pulls the engine spluttered back to life. We moved anxiously forward, acutely aware that there was only a few centimeters of water below the keel. After successfully creeping into the deeper water, and surprising around fifty seals that had been lounging on the rocks surrounding the anchorage, the torrential rain returned. We quickly assembled the boom tent, cooked dinner and retreated to bed, exhausted again after another long, eventful and wet day.

The following day dawned fair and dry and we made the most of the weather by exploring the deserted islands before heading towards Portree to re-provision. This time, instead of using the engine, we opted to sail out of the gap between the islands, managing to creep close to the seals before they slithered into the water. Unfortunately, the breeze and dry weather were short-lived, and by the time we reached Portree, the rain had returned with a vengeance. Feeling pretty disheartened by the relentless bad weather, we opted to pack an overnight bag and seek out a dry hotel bed for the night. But, after discussing our adventure with a group of generous Americans, we felt a loyalty to Vamonos (and anticipated the embarrassment of eating breakfast with them in the hotel after we’d pointed out which boat we were staying on!) and decided to return to the boat after dinner and a few drinks. The following morning we fought our way through hundreds of cruise guests who had descended on the quiet town and quickly re-provisioned for our next stretch to Ullapool.

Portree to Ullapool

The end of the day was in complete contrast to the beginning, and by the time we reached the gorgeous secluded anchorage of Fladda Harbour after a great downwind sail in around 15 knots, the sun was beaming and our spirits were high. We opted to spend the afternoon seeking out Calum’s Road on the Isle of Raasay, an incredible stretch of single-track that was single-handedly constructed in the 1960/70s due to one man’s grit and determination to connect the village of Arnish to the rest of the island; a task that had been neglected by the council despite requests by the Arnish community.

The next morning we sailed the short hop from Fladda Harbour to the Isle of Rona, guided into the anchorage by a large white arrow painted onto the cliffs. The anchorage was busy, with around eight other yachts enjoying the sheltered bay of Acarseid Mhor. Rowing ashore, we were greeted by the friendly resident of Rona Lodge, who suggested we wander across the island in search of Cathedral Cave and Acarseid Thioram (Dry Harbour). After a peaceful night’s sleep, we woke to over 20 knots of breeze, but as it was blowing from the south-west, we opted to head onwards with two reefs in the main and the number three jib. The sail was fantastic, and although we could see big rain clouds around us, particularly towards Skye, the weather stayed dry all the way to our destination at Badachro.

Anchoring in the busy bay at Badachro, we ate at the great little Badachro Inn, spending the evening catching up with emails and enjoying a lovely meal. Amazingly, the following day was also dry, and we sailed on to Aultbea, stopping for a coffee and delicious cake at the beautiful Aultbea Hotel before anchoring in the calm waters near the Isle of Ewe. We’d heard rumours that the weather was due to change for the better, and we went to be bed looking forward with anticipation to the forecast sunshine.

Emerging from the cabin, we were greeted with grey skies and strong breeze. One of our main grumbles about the poor weather was that much of the stunning scenery which we were travelling through was hidden from view, shrouded in thick cloud, but as we sailed north the clouds slowly started to break up and the magnificent mountains of Wester Ross started to appear, illuminated in bright sunshine. As the temperatures increased, the winds dropped, and despite starting the sail with two reefs and the number three jib, we moved to full sails and finally ended up motoring the last few miles to Ullapool (via the Summer Isles for tea and cake). By the time the new Ullapool-Stornoway CalMac ferry sailed passed us, we were enjoying a gin and tonic and soaking up the glorious heat which had been so elusive on our travels so far.

Ullapool to Orkney

Unfortunately when leaving Ullapool, fully re-stocked with food and fuel, the wind was on the bow, resulting in a long beat down Loch Broom. After reaching the Summer Isles, we were able to bare away along the Assynt coast, passing Lochinver and the Old Man of Stoer. As the sun started to dip in the west, we were treated with the most spectacular sunset of the trip, with the remnants of it lasting well after 11pm. But, as the light faded, the temperature dropped significantly. Tired and cold, we opted to head for an anchorage called Badcall Bay, trusting Navionics on the iPad to guide us between the islands as it was now around 1pm and very dark. We eventually flopped into bed, after travelling (by bus and sail) for over 18 hours.

Our sleep was short-lived, as we needed to get up at 7am the following morning to ensure we reached Cape Wrath in time to round the point with the tide. We quickly got the boat ready despite the torrential rain and strong breeze, sailing off the mooring with three reefs in the main and the number three jib ready to be hoisted. The forecast ensured us that the wind was to drop and the weather become drier as the day progressed, so we pushed on, exclaiming that we were lucky to dodge the numerous fish farms the night before as we negotiated our way back out to sea. As predicted, the wind started to ease, and by the time we reached Am Balg island south of the Cape, the sea state was, crucially, fairly flat. We had been slightly apprehensive sailing this far north in such a small yacht, but as we drew closer to the most north-westerly point of mainland Britain, we started to relax and enjoy the rugged scenery.

But, as we rounded Cape Wrath, the sea started to build, approaching the boat from all angles. The swell pushed all wind from the sails and it felt like we were wallowing, making no head-way through the house-sized waves. The iPad, however, indicated we were traveling at 6 knots, and, as we looked back towards the coast, we were re-assured that we were moving forward. We sailed a few miles further north before turning east to sail along the north coast. Unfortunately the forecast south-easterly had much more east in it than we would have liked, and we ended up beating our way up the coast towards Durness. Due to our long day the day before and the early starts, we decided to sail in shifts. There are no luxuries on board Vamonos such as auto-pilot, so the steering requires constant attention. After a two-hour watch each, we eventually reached our chosen anchorage at Rispond Bay around 6pm. After setting the anchor, however, we decided it didn’t provide enough shelter from the swell so decided to motor on (the wind had died completely), eventually reaching the perfect little abandoned harbor of Skullomie, near Kyle of Tongue, after another couple of hours. Promptly on arrival, the heavens opened once more, so after quickly assembling the boom tent, which we opted to leave up all night, and eating dinner, we again retreated to our bed cold and exhausted but also very proud that we’d successfully negotiated Cape Wrath and excited to reach Orkney the following day.

To our delight, we woke to bright sunshine but, unfortunately, no wind. We were concerned that, due to the longer periods of motoring over the last couple of days, and the decision not to re-fuel at Kinlochbervie in order to round Cape Wrath with the tide, we no longer had enough fuel to cover the 70-mile stretch of sea between the north coast and Orkney. Thankfully, as we deliberated over heading to Thurso to buy more petrol, a light breeze filled in on the beam and we enjoyed a good but very long sail towards Stromness. But, due to the light wind and limited fuel, we only averaged around three knots, meaning we reached the entrance to Scapa Flow a few hours later than planned, and, looking towards our left, we noticed huge white water waves surging out the channel. A quick check of the iPad confirmed that if we ventured too far to port, we would have eight knots of tide against us. Both feeling quite nervous and vulnerable as the light faded, we stuck close to the shore on the right hand side, using the depth reader to stay in as shallow water as possible. When the point came where we decided we needed to cross the channel to reach Stromness Harbour, we had to execute a very extreme ferry-gliding manoeuvre to ensure we didn’t get caught up in the huge standing waves. At points, the engine was full throttle and both sails were up, but we still moved backwards. It is not a situation that either of us would like to repeat! Eventually tying up in the marina at 11.30pm, we headed straight to the nearest pub, still in our foulies, to enjoy a celebratory beer at having reached the most northerly point of our adventure.

The East Coast

We paused in Stromness for three nights, taking time to catch up with old friends and see some of the fascinating historical sites that are situated across the islands. With memories of the extreme tide still fresh on our mind, we took extra care planning our departure time to ensure we had the tide with us for as long as possible sailing through Scapa Flow, out into the Pentland Firth and onwards to Wick. Fully re-stocked with provisions and fuel, we set sail in beautiful sunshine at 3.30pm. Cruising through Scapa Flow with the kite flying, we joked that this was the kind of weather and sailing we had imagined when planning the trip.

After further discussion, we decided that, because of the tide, we would continue sailing/motoring throughout the night instead of stopping at Wick for a few hours and having to leave at 4am. At around 10pm, we started doing watches, with Doug offering to take the darkest shift between midnight and 2am. In reality, we were never in complete darkness, with the red glow of the sunset moving round to the east and turning into the most incredible sunrise around 4am. Our new destination was Peterhead, which we reached at lunchtime, just in time to greet some of our Aberdeenshire Sailing Trust colleagues who were teaching a group of topper sailors in the marina.

Due to a few days of strong south-easterlies, we had to pause in Peterhead before continuing our journey south. Unfortunately, many of the small harbours on the east coast are unsuitable for fin keel yachts, drying out at low tide. We therefore had limited options as to where we would stop, resulting in long sailing days covering over seventy miles per day. We also had the additional pressure of being booked into the canal at 4.45pm on Tuesday, only two and a half days away. At the first sign of the wind dropping, we decided to leave Peterhead even though it was 10pm. We wanted to get to Arbroath at lunchtime the following day in time to get into the wet dock before they shut the gates. Unlike our previous overnight sail, this one turned out to be much more difficult. Big swell made sleep elusive, and pouring rain made helming miserable. Additionally, there wasn’t enough wind to sail, resulting in a long motor. We passed Aberdeen around 2am, making sure we sailed outside the exclusion zone around the harbour mouth thus dodging the anchored oil ships. Cold, tired and damp, we were grateful to finally pull into Arbroath harbour half an hour before the wet dock gate opened. Although desperately wanting and needing to sleep, the sun had started peeking through the clouds, so we decided to spend the afternoon exploring the town, enjoying ice cream and, of course, an infamous arbroath smokie.

Due to the tide, the wet harbour gate was only open between 7.15am and 8.30am the following morning, so we rose early, marched to the supermarket to buy more fuel, then set off around 8am. We had another long day ahead of us, needing to reach Port Edgar to guarantee our entry into the canal the following day. Motoring away from Arbroath in light breeze, we headed directly towards the Bell Rock lighthouse. Doug’s Great Grandfather had been a lightkeeper here, and he was keen, therefore, to see it up close and possibly take the dinghy ashore to take a photo of him standing on the doorstep. Our little dinghy engine had other ideas, however, failing to start despite Doug’s best efforts to coax it to life. From the lighthouse, we turned south, for a while enjoying a great sail in building breeze. We were making great progress along the Fife coastline until, unfortunately, the wind died completely when we were around 12 miles from Port Edgar. Doug tried to start the engine but with no luck. After five weeks, our temporary plastic fork repair had finally given up, on the same day that the smaller dinghy engine also failed. Typical. Despite trying multiple times and using up most of our plastic cutlery, the engine still failed to come to life, resulting in us drifting the direction we had come, the Forth Bridges slowly disappearing from sight. With Doug’s attention firmly on the broken engines, it was lucky that I had noticed the clouds changing direction despite the mill pond water around us. A dark line on the water was fast approaching from the west, and, with very limited warning, the wind filled in suddenly, accompanied by driving rain. Doug just managed to pull the number one jib down as the 25+ knot squall hit the boat. As the rain passed, the breeze decreased slightly, and we settled into a long beat against the tide towards our destination, trying to keep out of the main channel as much as possible. We passed Edinburgh and the illumated bridges in the dark, finally sailing into the Port Edgar marina at 2.30am, eight and a half hours later than expected. Again, we crawled into bed: cold, tired but thankful that the wind had filled in enough for us to reach our destination. The alarms were set for 8am, as we needed to head to the chandlers as soon as it opened to beg them to fix our engines so we could reach the canal the following day (and the Sonata national championships which started in only a few days time).

We are very grateful to Bosun’s Locker for squeezing us in the following morning, having both our engine’s running just in the nick of time for us to leave at 1.30pm, giving us only three hours to reach the canal. Motoring up the Forth next to a cargo ship, we commented how far removed we were from the tranquil island hopping we’d enjoyed only a few weeks earlier on the west coast! Reaching the mouth of the Carron River we anchored in strong current and, under the watchful eye of a curious seal, we managed to successfully lower our mast and motor up to the first lock 5 minutes early. Phew!

The Forth and Clyde Canal and our final destination

The first night in the canal was spent directly below the Kelpies, the first time either of us had seen the magnificent sculptures. The following morning, with the help of the local canal staff, we moved through the locks, passing by the Falkirk Wheel, reaching the Stables near Kirkintilloch in time for dinner. The canal team informed us that we had to be at the Maryhill Locks by 9am the following morning, which was a two-hour motor by their reckoning. We spent the day being entertained by the Glasgow lock workers, and met up with family at the Clydebank shopping centre and again at Bowling. We were informed when reaching Bowling that we wouldn’t be able to leave the canal that night as it would take too long to crane the mast into place. We told them we could do it ourselves in 10 minutes, and quickly got to work, keen to keep moving towards our final destination at Helensburgh. Many hands make light work, and it wasn’t long before we were being lowered back into the Clyde on the west coast.

We had a beautiful final sail down the Clyde, with the sun shining and the wind around ten knots. It was a perfect final ten miles of our 800-mile journey, and, heading into Rhu Marina, we both felt a huge sense of accomplishment. Some thought we wouldn’t make it and many thought we were mad, but, even though it was the third wettest season on record, we had successfully managed to sail round Scotland in a Sonata.

26th July 2011

by Chris Bentley.

Last year we visited the Celts and the NE edge of UK and jolly nice it was too. This year was dedicated to three of the other sides of Sonata United Kingdom. As I said in my Scottish account, Sharon and I don’t normally mind a bit of Sonata travelling/camping so we decided that this year, the first bits at least could be done on BFG’s bottom. 2011 may, however, have changed our minds…

Delivery Trip One

West Mersea for the Dabchicks Sonata Nationals. Easy. A nice day sail from Medway. But which day? As the first start drew inexorably closer, the weather grew inexorably worse. Sharon had booked Queen Victoria’s yacht, a present to Albert, as our pied-a-terre for the week. A magnificent 90ft of immaculate Victorian woodwork, sadly, no longer rigged but a delight of carved mahogany below and an aft deck where, of course, dressed appropriately in boater and acres of chiffon, we would sip champagne whilst the sun set over the Mersea mud flats. Not quite St Trop. but with enough champagne we could suspend reality sufficiently. (You can work out for yourselves who would be wearing the boater). Thus ETA West Mersea was Saturday morning, allowing us ample relaxation, and a romantic weekend of decadence before the crew arrived and the rigors of Champs racing commenced. Back to reality. It was Friday and the wind was NE 6. When do we ever get NE in June? On the weekend before the Nationals, apparently.

We cast off from the MYC pontoon at 16.00 on the Friday before the Nationals. We slogged down the Medway. Finally, sense prevailed and a night of beating up the Essex coast in the dark was given up for a buoy in Queenborough. Sorry, L’Esperance (Vikkies yacht), have to see you for Saturday tea instead. And so we did, not forgetting to kiss the Foulness sands, and I think also the Barrow on the way up. We do like to maintain our little traditions. Beating in 1.4m of water out of sight of land amongst shifting sands does pose some tricky nav exercises. That’s my excuse, anyway. We were supposed to be guiding Watersong, crewed by Luke and Max, young Sonaterers, but we didn’t do a very good job of it and had to stand by whilst they extricated themselves from, I think, behind a bit of the Barrow sands after straying another 100 metres too far East. Apparently the Navionics chart plot, which Luke had on his i-phone, made interesting viewing.

The 2011 Nationals

We were made Royally welcome by Dabchicks Commodore John, shepherded to our pen for the week and de-camped ashore. Accounts of the Nationals are posted on the Sonata website elsewhere but we had a great race week. Enough said on that. Ashore we basked in the luxury of L’Esperance’s original Victorian bath and her six foot beds, that is they were six foot wide but also six foot above the cabin sole. Midnight toiletries were gymnastic. Enough said on that too.

Delivery Trip Two

Departure day post-Nationals, Saturday, where was the wind? Nowhere. So we chugged South, parting company with MYC Sonata Figaro at the end of the Swin. We heading SE to Ramsgate, they SW to home port. Nav for this trip, with an extra 2m of tide over the yellow bits was easy. Head for wind farm one off Brightlingsea. Turn right. Head for wind farm two in Thames. Turn left. Head for wind farm three off Ramsgate. Who needs Navionics? None of the blades were turning on the 500 or so poles we passed. Tide was dragging us along at a comfortable two knots. Can they not be turned upside-down, these things? It would mean 24/7/365 rotation and a lot less visual intrusion on a nice seascape.

Secure in Ramsgate we caught the fast train home to London. One hour and 15 mins to St Pancras. They have got something right after all. We didn’t get it quite right because we forgot that the Blackwall Tunnel is shut on Sunday nights, had an eclectic taxi/train/bus/tube/bus ride home.

Delivery Trip Three

13 days, 7 hours to our Round The Island start and we are 100 miles away to the East of Cowes. No sweat. But what do I see marching across the weather charts? Lots of little curved lines, bunched close together at small intervals. Oh! north easterlies, where are you now I need you? Absolutely out of sight and back to the British trend of SW, and not very nice SW for June either. The weekend was out of the question: 6–7 SW, rain, poor. Very poor for a 14 hour beat to Eastbourne. Very small weather window Monday. Had to grab it. Crew were all, sensibly, back at work so yours truly started the outboard at 04.00 Monday, Ramsgate, and headed out into the North sea in pouring rain but no wind. My log-in call to the Coastguard had ended with him telling me that they had very poor vis. It was Dover Coastguard, 16 miles south. He was watching over one of the busiest shipping areas in the world. Did that make me feel good? Not a lot, and by this time the rain had already wormed its way past the neck towel, the zipped up hoodie, the fleece and was travelling south down my back and front.

Best bit was passing Deal Pier really close with not a fisherman in sight. (this is an in-house joke for Steve, amongst others). Dover, and the vis had cleared enough to see 4 ferries safely in their pens from my position 1 mile off (it’s the rule) and no inbounds on the horizon. But then, bugger me, Sea France puffs a smoke signal. Out he comes and I calculate we will meet in about five minutes. I am to his Port so I make the decisive 90 degree turn to Starboard, and am now heading towards Dover Eastern Entrance. What do I then see? DFDS preparing to exit the same entrance. Form Four geography dimly inserts itself in my damp brain. Denmark is North of Dover therefore he will turn left once clear of the entrance and pass ahead of me. And so he did. So I played successful footie with the ferries on that morning. What I should have done, and indeed what I normally do, is call Dover Harbour Control and ask them if they can see me, vis or radar, and if any movements are about to happen. I didn’t because I hadn’t looked up his VHF channel beforehand and getting the book out on the way down would have soaked it in the rain. Lesson learned.

The rest of the delivery was uneventful. Those of you that have done the route will know that Dungeness power station is an ever-present landmark. The damn thing is so big you see it in front and behind for most of the way. I had been bright enough to do the tides right and made a very creditable passage to Eastbourne in 12 hours. Motor 5.5knts, tide 2knts. Good speed for a Sonata. (My record is 8 hours, but that was in a 6 going the other way under small white sails).

Delivery Trip Four

Four days, 15 hours to start and we are 70 miles East of Cowes. Those nasty curved lines are still bunched tight. Cowes is dead to windward. Friday is the day of comparatively better weather, comparatively being the relative term for not SW6 gusting 7, but possibly a SW 5, gusting 6. And so it was. 16 hours to windward in wind, drizzle, waves and cold was a bit of a marathon but we made it with nine hours to spare from the start. Phew!

Round the Island

Emerging from a 20 minute hot shower at the Island Sailing Club that evening, I knocked into a guy who was running a Guard Boat for ISC at the Needles. “What’s the local forecast for tomorrow?” I asked innocently. “Bumpy” he replied. I checked it later and 30knts SW seemed to be the consensus.

Next morning I did the safety briefing, reminding the crew where all the essential bits, flares, anchor, etc were and radio procedure. We were in for a drubbing, no mistake. But we have a tough little boat, an experienced crew and lots of sea miles behind us. And of course, the real possibility of Silver at the end and a crack at Gold if we really make good. We had made so much effort to get here that the thought of not starting was not discussed. Personally, I had decided that if we made it to windward reasonably sensibly as far as the Needles, then it was game on. If we struggled, then the ride back to Cowes in the relative shelter of the Solent was the get-out clause.

We started sensibly on Starboard about three quarters of the way out to the pin. There we had clear air and relatively few boats in close quarters. It’s harder to call the line that far out and, contrary to previous RTI’s we got no VHF, but that may have been us. I know that there is the first ‘slingshot’ tide up tight to the Squadron end but I wasn’t convinced that frequently tacking amongst the melee of boats down there with Port out, Starboard in was going to be ultimately productive in that weather. Also, according to my charts, the tide there hadn’t picked up that much at 07.00.

Down the Solent we paced our Class boats adequately – some of them were 30ft long plus (hello Sigmas)! We had two Sonatas behind us and one in front. We were comfy with one good slab and No.2. We played clear air tactics all the time we could, watching for bigger windward boats who would roll over us and ducking Starboard boats on our Port tack out when we wanted to get back to clear air. It seemed to work ok. At Hurst, where the second tide slingshot works, we got stuffed. Caught on starboard with a 40 footer sitting on our starboard quarter, we couldn’t reasonably tack. He took us well past the critical point before we could make the tack behind him without losing acres of ground. Such is RTI racing! We got to Hurst a good 500 metres late and the lead Sonata, who had picked his route better, was well clear. We got the last of the tide boost and tacked for the Needles gap. The two main dangers in the gap are Goose rock and the Varvassi. I had GPS on both, but there was no opportunity to refer to my Garmin. The seas were now 20ft high, steep, and starting to break at the top. The priority was to keep the boat moving up the faces of the waves. Max, my son and foredeck crew, said it felt like BFG started the climb up the front face, got about half way up, shuddered a bit, decided that she had more to do and just got on with it. We have great, tough little boats. Thankyou Dave Thomas.

Somehow, we closed the gap on the leading Sonata before the lighthouse and crossed him on Starboard with, in my estimation, ample room to clear the dangers. I was navigating by eye at that time, using the “Solent Hazards” transit of the top of the lighthouse/cliff transit in Peter Wright’s book. I also had a deeper boat inside of me. We made it and breathed a collective sigh of relief. It took us five minutes to realise that, although the seas were still big, the wind was not. Lead Sonata had carried on his port tack and was now behind us. “Kite” was the call and kite we did. It was a very controlled hoist, perfectly executed. Thankyou crew. We kept both tweakers hard down and the pole slightly below horizontal and set off down the South side of the Island surfing at a max of 10knts. In our sights was Matt on the Foxcub from Poole, with a glaringly obvious lime green kite. Behind, both following Sonatas had not yet launched their kites. We were pulling out distance on them by the minute and, again, pacing 32-38 ft boats who were not wearing kites. We felt good about this.

I was aware that St Catherine’s Point was the next critical mark. Our course was a broad reach but I took every opportunity to gain height. BFG was in perfect control as far as sail trim was concerned. The danger was the waves which approached on our Starboard quarter and attempted to throw us into a broach. Good eyeballing by Max and keeping me informed was the key to our safe passage. (There was no way I had time, or wanted, to look backwards). The onset warning of a big wave was met by me with a 20 degree bear-away to surf it rather than have it knock me sideways into a broach. This worked perfectly, much to the disgust of much more heavily crewed big boats near us who were pirouetting all over the ocean and most eventually gave up and white sailed. Lesson (they should) learn. We were never anywhere near a broach.

St Cats approached and we were to leeward of a red Contessa 32. Every time he got a surge, we were blanketed. I dared not bear away for clear air on such a lee shore. I could not luff up above him as he was white sails. BUM! He was slowing us down. Mark that, a fairly fast 32ft boat was slowing down a 22ft Sonata. I stuck it out because I knew that the third tide slingshot was minutes away. I cut St Cats as close as my nerves allowed. In 5 minutes flat, we were 100 metres clear of our Contessa blanket having overtaken him to leeward. We felt good about that too.

We join the navy!

The seas after St Cats got steeper. Same direction, ie on our Starboard quarter, and same wind. But their ability to throw us into a broach was stronger. A couple of times, I had to make big helm corrections to line BFG up properly. Max eased the kite to help me, something we hadn’t had to do on the way in. On the third correction the rudder snapped at the waterline. BFG immediately broached and laid over 60 degrees. I called to fire the kite, which we did. Then us three strong guys attempted to pull it into the cockpit via the sheet. Impossible. I called to get the main down, which we did and lashed it to the boom. The kite was still flogging wildly held by halyard and sheet. We winched it to the deck in tatters. We were beam-on to the sea and approaching a lee shore at approx 20 degrees. I estimated we had at most 20 minutes before we hit the rocks. Sharon called Race Control and then Coastguard informing them of our situation. At that time, Coastguard had at least five Pan Pans active and were somewhat busy. Nevertheless, they responded, took our position and situation and promised to get back to us. We mounted the outboard and started it. Steering with the outboard was virtually impossible. One minute of progress offshore, where we wanted to go, was negated by a pirouette to leeward caused by the following waves. We lashed our wooden paddle to the rudder stock. Max did rudder, I did outboard, turning it through 180 degrees to try to maintain a course. It improved the capacity to steer, but not by much. We chatted to Coastguard during this bit. By effort, we succeeded in making enough ground to clear our drift into Sandown bay, giving us some time before another lee shore. We again informed Coastguard that we were now in no imminent danger but in 50 or 60 minutes we would be approaching new rocks and could we please have a tow. A RIB from Race Control, the “Yellow Toad” arrived and towed us out of the bay a bit. After some chit-chat they told us that we were to be rescued by the Navy and, sure enough, over the horizon came HMS Exploit. I said to them that an astern tow would very probably be disastrous as, even with a long line, without the rudder BFG would pirouette and snatch on the line, and would be dragged sideways and down by the tow. They agreed and, after some clever manoeuvering, got us alongside, protected by seriously big fenders, (as big as Sharon)! and we lashed ourselves to HMS Exploit. We were safe and within five minutes they provided tea in nice mugs protected from spillage by cling film. What class! They then drove us to Cowes in style with plenty of photos taken from the surrounding yachts beating to the line and, no doubt, a touch of envy at our dead upwind progress. Hurrah for the Navy!

It was a disappointing end to our personal race as we knew we were well up in Class Three and definitely streets ahead of the other Sonatas in our class. We had won the Sonata Class two years before, crossing swords with the Nordic Folkboat ‘Ratatat’ all the way down the South side of the Island, and then calculated an IRC position, which (had we entered IRC) would have given us third overall. ‘Ratatat’ won the Gold that year. We were on track to repeat something similar this year. But such is yacht racing. Well done to Sonata ‘High Note’ for winning this one for the Sonatas. Well done to ‘Impro’ for completing the course and coming second. Commiserations to ‘Tosca’ and ‘Xante’ who retired. Well done also to the Sonatas in ISC, ‘Pint Size’ for winning, very sincere commiserations to ‘Selene’ for being OCS and taking the killer penalty on your last shot at the junior league. Tough, Joe, but now you are amongst the big (I really mean old) boys and on your track record we really feel scared. Come to Burnham and try your luck!

If you look at the RTI stats you will, I am sure, find that Sonatas were amongst the smallest boats to compete this year’s RTI as a fully fledged race keelboat amongst some much larger competitors. I am ignoring the little gaffers and various other classes that started and retired prior to the Needles or made it round in their own time. We, Sonatas, should be very proud of our achievement. We all raced the course full on. It was a challenging enterprise, but we all survived it. (well, we personally, didn’t, quite, but we were there for a while and we made ourselves safe). It conclusively proves, if it ever needed proving before, that our tough little boats can match, and mostly, exceed the capabilities and speed of craft much larger than ourselves. And, importantly, under IRC, a well sailed Sonata can knock spots off of their bigger rivals. Maybe we Sonatas have bred a generation of better seamen. Maybe we have just happened on a design of boat that we treat like a stock car and it gives us back safe sailing in extreme conditions. That is something to be proud of. That is something to promote our class to another audience so we can grow our membership. Lets do that.

Delivery Trip Five

Sunday dawned with a flat calm in Cowes roads. Magic! With a lash-up rudder (we had now exchanged the paddle for the centre thwart of the rubba dubba) Poole, our next destination, looked ok. Problem was we couldn’t see the Squadron at all from our mooring 100 metres away, there was a thick sea mist. I furiously plotted extra waypoints into the trusty Garmin. We left at 08.00. The thwart performed around the moorings, we had steerage. Off down the Solent then. Green buoys came and went where they should be. Thankyou Garmin and thwart.

About Bembridge, a sleek Grand Soleil appeared out of the mist behind us. “have you got GPS?” they hailed. “Yes” we said. Nevertheless, they slowed to match our speed and we both had fun using our horns to communicate with the Bembridge ferry who was noisily crossing us ahead. We saw him, just, but many thanks, guys in the GS, for sticking with us in a critical bit.

Christchurch bay was a complete white-out. Garmin knew where the shore was but we didn’t see it until we were almost up the Sandbanks beach. It was a 90 degree left with helm (the thwart) hard down because we were less than 20m off when we saw it. The chain ferry was making a lot of noise too as we crept towards the entrance. Fortunately, the noise was to our Starboard, which meant he was setting off from Sandbanks side. We just saw him pass in front of us going right to left so I estimated we had enough time to clear his track before he came back, and so it was.

Our fuel level was then zero, so we made for the fuel barge off Brownsea Island. A couple of shouts to passing craft assured us we were heading ok (the vis was still less than 20m). Arriving at the barge, the owner told us that his petrol pump was u/s. Magic! Jury rudder, nil vis, how were we now going to get to Poole YC, then back up a creek to windward. But out of the blue (grey, actually) a good samaritan arrived in the form of a really nice bloke who had a petrol auxillary and we exchanged reddies for his spare petrol litres enough to get us home. Thanks, nice bloke. It really is a wonderful boost when motor boats and yachties get together to help each other and yachties look after other yachties, as in our Grande Soleil mates above. It used to be called the camaraderie of the sea. Whatever it is now, we, BFG, appreciated our comrades assistance, and we thank you for it. Nice to know it’s still there.

Poole YC loomed out of the mist. Sharp right and there we were, safely berthed. And then the sun came out. We dried out everything we could and caught the train home to London. Waterloo East met us with a wall of city heat. We guessed you guys in town had experienced a heatwave. Next move, Brixham for the Sonata Southerns.

Sonata Southerns

Next week, Friday, we drove to Poole with the tow rig. (Sharon and I had run out of time to sail Lyme Bay). Dumped it at Davies Marina, around the corner from Poole YC. Taxi back to YC. Bridge, (Poole) operates at two hour intervals in the week. We just missed the 14.30, next, 16.30. BUM. Grabbed Michael from Sonata Seline team to catch mast, which he did magnificently. Shot bridge with mast down, lifted and on road by 17.30. Dorset hills a challenge for my Mitsubishi, but we coast into Brixham to be met by David who guided us backwards into the Brixham YC compound where BFG rested for a week. We were welcomed so well by the Brixham guys that we didn’t leave until closing time. Arrived London 04.30. Work next morning UUGGHH!

Next weekend, Sonata Southerns. We got there to lift in on the Friday before. Harbourmaster (or deputy HM Never did work out the pecking order) Rob, launched us off his crane after a nerve-racking reverse down his rather narrow quay during which we, BFG, halted the traffic in Brixham and I counted two trip coaches, several tourist 4×4s and a bemused ice cream seller all fixated on my ability to back my rig around a right-angle bend onto the quay and then not dump it and BFG prematurely off the edge, a foot away. We, I achieved it. Phew!

Again, race report on our site, (thanks Katina) but fab weekend’s racing. 8 races in two days. How good is that? Take note, organisers of areas, and nationals too. Brill organisation, hospitality and race management. Well done, BYC.

In the midst of all this we, your NSA Committee, had an AGM. As a committee, we have some seriously difficult information to impart to our members. We have decided to keep some of this information confidential to members only, thus the access to the website will now be restricted, in certain areas, to members only from now on. (See my post on this subject). We believe this is a positive move firstly to encourage more owners to join us and, secondly, because some of the stuff we are about to tell you is not for world-wide consumption. I am not Rupert Murdock. I believe in transparency at every stage. I have, with the backing of your committee, acted as I believe, reasonably and in your best interests. This will take a while to resolve. Bear with me if you can, and I will report the progress on our new, restricted, forum area.

BFG rests in Brixham. Sharon and I hope we can get back to her for a long weekend of enjoying the SW coast in cruising mode soon, as we did in Scotland around the Kyles of Bute. We are looking forward to this after a hard slog to achieve our race timetable and represent our class in as many fixtures as we could fit in.

More anon.

Chris Bentley and Sharon Brokenshire
BFG

21st September 2010

by Chris Bentley.

It really all started after the Round The Island Race, 2009. BFG were fortunate enough to win the Sonata Salver for first Sonata around in Class, winning a stunning bit of Silver plate. Onwards to Poole, where that year’s National Champs were to be held, I vaguely remember that the entire male crew refused to hoist any type of sail until well after the Needles. The excuse was that after the Salver celebration night, any movement apart from forwards under engine was unacceptable. Us three boys stuck to our guns. The exception was Sharon who, smugly informed us that she had switched to water after midnight and could we please stick some rags up as it was a broad reach to Poole. We bestirred ourselves about 5 miles out.

Food for thought

Poole Nationals were great. We did ok. We were somewhat dismayed to find that the planned AGM/meeting of Sonata members and Committee at the Nationals did not materialise. (No more so than Poole Yacht Club who had reserved room and time for it). I think the embarrassment was shared equally between the Club and us competitors.

Afterwards, Sharon and I sailed BFG back from Poole to our home port, Medway. (we enjoy a bit of Sonata travelling/camping). Inevitably on the rather long legs between the corners of England – Selsea, Beachy Head, (this trip we didn’t meet anyone who had run out of matches – in-joke for MYC Kev and Edwin), South and North Foreland – there was time to ruminate on the doings or, apparently, not much doings, of the National Sonata Association. Very tenuously, and I thought, almost inaudibly, I voiced my opinion that p’raps the NSA committee might have a vacancy. Almost without thinking too much about it, I found myself driving to Windermere in October for the actual 2009 AGM. And driving back again 48 hours later having been voted in charge of an affable bunch of fellow Sonata’ers with my last view of the Lake being half a dozen of them totally becalmed getting very wet in the ‘Windermere Drizzle’. Sonata sailing north of Watford looked a bit uninviting.

The tour takes shape

In a former life I ran a company which did communications so I decided that one of my first jobs as Chairman was to talk to the membership. Rather pompously, I penned a “Signal from the Bridge” and posted it on the website. Amongst other promises, I said that I would take BFG to the next National Champs in Helensburgh on the Clyde. I had only crossed Hadrian’s Wall twice before, neither time with a ton and a half of boat behind me. But the die was cast. We looked at the mileage chart, swallowed hard and realised that over 1000 miles of towing deserved more than four days sailing. We found something called ‘The Brewin Dolphin Regatta’ in a place called Tarbert a couple of weeks before the Nat Champs. More map reading, more miles – getting around the tops of all those lochs and kyles you have up there is one heck of a detour. And the added interest would be the lumpy bits in between. Nevertheless, it looked scenic and Brewing and Dolphins seemed an attractive mix. Again, without too much pondering, I found myself agreeing to extend the tour by another two weeks at both ends to bring in the Kip Regatta before Tarbert and to visit Whitby for the Northern Champs on the way home. Think I was a bit punch drunk by then – what’s another 100 mile detour or so!

Go North!

As it has turned out, the whole adventure has been one of the best times in our lives. If anyone out there still believes that the Scots are a dour and thrifty lot who live in a land where it is either cold or wet and often lots of both, prepare yourselves to be re-educated. Friendship, hospitality, stunning scenery, beer at £2 a pint and whiskey at £1.60 for nearly double the English measure are everywhere. Oh, and we had almost continuous sunshine and temperatures in the 20’s. The sailing was also pretty good.

A log of the entire trip would be akin to watching your neighbour’s holiday slide show and anyway, that’s not why I’m writing this. My real agenda is to persuade those of you who haven’t yet tried travelling with their Sonatas or any other way to get sailing up North, to give it a go. Not just to broaden your minds and all that stuff, but because we have a great community of like-minded sailors, all sharing a common interest, even passion, for our little boats and, without exception, willing to share knowledge and tips to make us all go that little bit faster. Of course, sailing away from home also throws up different challenges and one truism about the Northern sailors is that they are indeed a canny lot and ever so good at what they do, as we often found to our cost!

So here are just a few highlights and comments you hopefully might find useful and/or entertaining if you ever decide to go North and race a Sonata, or any other boat in their very attractive bunch of series.

Kip Regatta

Kip Regatta is the ‘warm-up’ for Tarbert. It runs from Kip Marina, one of the best and most efficient marinas I have come across – from Duncan’s generous lift-in price I had previously negotiated for us Sonatas at the London Boat Show to us getting launched within 10 minutes of arriving.

We raced within a handicap fleet for Sonata trophies. Kip is one of the easiest ways to access the Firth of Clyde, being about half an hour’s drive from Glasgow or just less than an hour on the local train from Glasgow Central. The sailing is in the wider part of the Firth, towards Largs. In this case, all windward/leeward courses. The weather we experienced was a mix of gentle breezes interspersed with force six squalls as the black clouds rolled over the opposite shore and then nothing, leaving the fleet short of the line by 50 metres. It was challenging! We won the first race. Ha! This is easy we thought, only 3-up and we trounce the Sonata National Champion first race out.

The next three races soon sorted that misconception out. From ‘Wicked Wookie’ – what sort of name is that for a musical boat – banging a Starboard corner so hard he had to reach back to the windward mark to Dave Boatman – well, probably Martin, finding a draft of breeze up the Port side, we were shown the way home in the next races.

On shore, Mark of Sarabande organised a Saturday night meal at the Inverkip Hotel (virtually the only social venue in the small village of Inverkip outside the Marina bars). It was memorable and introduced us to Scottish hospitality. At the close of the series the Marina ran a prizegiving in their fab restaurant/bar. Max and I left Sharon in charge whilst we did the boat strip and lift-out. Returning some 45 minutes later we found Sharon facing half a dozen empty glasses – previous contents, a ‘Dark and Stormy’. All courtesy of the marina/race team. We caught up as best we could. It was another memorable night, I think. Thanks, Kip Marina, Duncan, and the great race management team for a fab time.

Onwards to Tarbert and the Scottish Series

Next was Tarbert. The “Scottish Series” or the Brewin Dolphin Regatta. You can sail it from Kip, and, in fact, they race it with some huge silver pots as prizes. We didn’t because it was two weeks after Kip and we all needed to attend to business down south. It is a long road trail. Lochs extend a long way North of the Clyde and we spent the best part of a day driving the boat around. However, we stopped for smoked mussels at the Loch Fyne bar which made up for the drive. Lift-in at Tarbert is a hired crawler crane. No messing. Get in line, get airborne, get dunked, move off. But 100% efficient and part of the fee.

Tarbert is so fab I can’t really describe it adequately. It’s a small fishing harbour with the quay packed with pubs, restaurants and bars. It also is amazingly picturesque (see photo earlier on this page). Once a year it is invaded by the Regatta and the whole village, from the Mayor and the marching band to the Harbour Authority who bend over backwards to manage the huge influx of race boats to their limited facilities, combine to welcome their visitors. And they do it so well. Every morning the entire fleet was piped out of the harbour by a lone piper standing on the seaward rock. On one very memorable evening, the whole race fleet was welcomed back home by a school of some dozen dolphins who did a display within touching distance of jumps and back flips for 20 minutes before moving on to the next bunch of racers coming in. They were patently showing off. I never got around to asking the Mayor how he did that.

Racing. Ah well. If I say that I will personally think very seriously about going back to Cowes again, an event which I have competed in over 30 years in various boats, including mine, you might have a clue. Overall satisfaction, Tarbert, 100%. Enough said. Cost wise, spending £100 of diesel to drive to Tarbert alone more than compensates for the extortionate entry, craning and mooring fees of nearer Cowes. Accommodation, well, no contest. A shared house in Cowes is now £35.00 a head a night. (OK, you can camp, and I have, but it is an awkward option). In Tarbert, we paid an embarrassingly small amount to a wonderful couple who were part of the race management team to have a flat in their house and look after our children, Max and Camille, during the race event and after that when Sharon and I went cruising and the kids had to study for A levels. Thank you so much, Ian and Millicent. (Ian and Millicent’s house in Tarbert) And Ian later drove my tow rig to Helensburgh, saving me another 100 mile back-trek to recover it. Cheers, Ian, another example of the huge hospitality we received on our tour.

On the race course, again it’s windward/leewards. But they do it very well. The race management team set courses with buoys in a min depth of 100 metres and often in 200 metres plus. How do they do it? Well, as far as I could see, they set the windward mark very carefully. Then they set the pin mark for the start. Before the start, they adjust the position on the Committee Boat to the bias – it never anchors. Normally, the Race Officer sets the CM to give a slight Starboard tack bias, to save him grief. He holds station for the run up to the start. We had no recall starts. Enough said. Sailing off Tarbert is spectacular scenery because we were further up the Firth of Clyde than Kip. We were looking at big hills, close to, with views to die for. In between races, we slid over to either shore to ogle the millionaire properties with lawns down to the beach. Max worked out that, if we owned one, he could launch his Laser down the lawn from the bedroom, jump in and hit the water at 6knts if the wind was ok. Whilst ‘cruising’ between races we were entertained with chat on the VHF on topics ranging from Accrington Stanley FC (it’s amazing the amount of vicarious knowledge a 350 boat fleet can assemble about a minor football club in 30 minutes) to a raffle on the amount of vodka one of the race officers had consumed since Thursday. The fleet settled on six bottles, which, apparently, was very close to the truth. That’s the spirit of Tarbert. I highly recommend it to you all.

I hope that gives you a flavour of the atmosphere of the whole event. There were many more individual acts of hospitality and kindness that our crew received. The myths of the Scots being a dour and somewhat thrifty people were completely dispelled. And, as it happened, the other myth about Scotland being wet and cold, or very wet and very cold, also didn’t happen because we all started our tans there.

Cruising in the Kyles

Helensburgh was the venue for the Sonata National Champs, and, actually, the reason we went up there in the first place. It’s back up the Clyde from Tarbert, on the North shore, about 8 hours sail. Sharon and I decided to cruise it around something called the ‘Kyles’. We spent three glorious days on passage to get there. Fab scenery, wildlife, submarines, rocks and pubs ashore were just part of the experience.

We arrived Thursday evening to be greeted by Neil of the Helensburgh YC in his RIB because he had lent us his HYC mooring for the week before the champs whilst we beat it back down south. Ta Neil.

Back up by train/car, the BFG race crew assembled for the big event. The tow rig was there, courtesy Ian of Tarbert, so we had all the tools, battery chargers, etc that you need to campaign a race boat away from home. The boat was tuned (well, we thought so) and so were the crew. Windward leewards again, but we knew that, because that is the Sonata Champs formula. For us the results were some ok, some not so. (we were provided with an excuse by the locals involving some deep dredging in the channel we were racing over for the subs which altered the tide pattern). Ah so! Canny lot, the Scots. We were again impressed with the professionalism of the local Race Management Team who, without exception, set very competent courses.

The Nationals

The spirit of the whole Nationals can be summed up by the following VHF conversation: (which was on the day that we were doing a long distance race around the cans): ‘RIB’ (who had gone upwind up the Clyde some 2nm) to PRO “Where should I station myself to adjust the windward mark?” PRO to RIB: (after a two second pause for recollection) “this race is around navigation marks. We will not be needing your services on this occasion. Thank you. Out”. ‘RIB’ blushed suitably, and then proceed to point the fleet around all the subsequent marks which we, as visitors, probably would have had a hard time identifying across the Clyde. Thanks, ‘RIB’. For us, that was all part of the way that the race team enabled us to start and complete races and finish our champ‘s. It was a lesson in good race management.

Ashore, we had a night of whisky tasting, courtesy of a local company who owned three distilleries, each of which produced two whiskies. We were presented with a sample glass of each. By my maths, that’s 6 whiskies. Later, we were asked which one we most appreciated. Mine was the Tobermoray. I can’t remember much after that because I re-sampled my favourite several times. I can remember waking up the next morning with exactly the same amount of cash in my wallet as I had started with the previous evening.

We also had a fab ‘end of champs’ dinner, courtesy of the ladies of the HYC – fab meal.

Helensburgh is a town with lots of opportunities to enjoy, including, apparently, a night life. Ask Max or Camille for details.

We ended the Champs having dropped five clicks from last year’s Poole place – so not a great result for us – but taking away a whole new experience of sailing in a wonderful place and meeting a whole new bunch of like-minded bods who entertained and looked after us brilliantly. Thanks, all of you.

Stopping-off at Whitby

And, just to finish it off, we towed the boat to Whitby for the Sonata Northerns. (Well, it’s half way back)! Driving down into Whitby, which is another very pretty place, we were greeted with a roundabout which featured a sailing boat model, emblazoned, just for this weekend, with a Sonata sail logo. We laughed and clapped. Later, I had to send an apology and a donation cheque from The Sonata Association to ‘Whitby in Bloom’ whose lady president was much upset by the local Sonata’s use of her boat model. I think we have smoothed it out.

Only a weekend’s racing. Saturday we went out of the quite narrow harbour entrance to be greeted by big rolling seas and a 15-18knt breeze. We had a ball, surfing – 11knts on our (probably) lying speedo. Beats the little steep things we get in the Medway. Sunday, little or no wind. Such is NE England racing. Whitby is lovely. Lots of Bram Stoker, Dracula, if that’s your bag. Otherwise, restaurants in spades and big on fish and chips like you have never before tasted. Whitby Yacht Club is lovely and, again, all self-help food and bar makes for very inexpensive evenings. I am so glad I read the Whitby Gazette’s explanation about the design of the new facilities block on the quay otherwise I would have mistaken it for a pile of bricks. (If you’re not there, or local, forget it). But the rest of Whitby, the local Sonata crews and the Club is fab too.

Facts and figures

And so, back home. Some stats that might help:

• We drove 1400 miles with the boat on the back, including some serious hills in Scotland and back to Whitby. With the right rig, no problem. It’s a big 4×4 and a low, light trailer (thanks to Outsider, whose trailer we borrowed). We did the major ‘up’ tow to Carlisle in 8 hours and on to Kip in 4 hours after a rest. All the other tows were in daylight. We can tow at a good speed, thus pacing the artics or slipstreaming them as we prefer. Motorway facilities are crap. Get off to eat or rest.
• In between events we used a mix of train and small car transport to get us back to the North. Book in advance and Virgin Trains are good value to Glasgow. Air is another option. Four-up, it’s hard to beat a small, economic car. We never spent more than £40 a head to get to Scotland, and often much less.
• Dumping the boat at various places in-between events was easy. Sometimes cheap, sometimes, nothing.
• For events, we paid between £40 (Kip) to £130 (Tarbert – and that should have been £100 – I entered late). Nationals were £100.
• Sharon and I had a couple of ‘lux’ nights in a B&B. £40 – £60 a night inc breakfast.
• My truck is valued at £1500. It’s a 15 yr old diesel turbo with over 220,000 miles on the clock. I paid £180 to get it serviced and roadworthy for the trip. My conclusion is that Sonata road trips can be pretty cheap. The Northern guys think nothing of driving Scotland – Windermere – NE Coast – Ireland (and the Irish, the reverse). It is a different mentality to MYC. We are all pretty comfy racing another 18 boats on home waters every Saturday. When you live in Edinburgh, your options for more competitive racing devolve to sticking your boat on a trailer and doing the rounds. It’s not necessarily better, it’s different. And what they gain is the huge experience of racing different waters and different people constantly. Patently, it works for their competitiveness, because they beat us very competently.

Just do it!

Would we do it again? Oh yes. Compared with, say, Cowes, it is so much better, and, cheaper, despite the distance.

And probably, next year, ie 2011. You are welcome to join us.

Chris Bentley

7th May 2007

by Chris Bentley. Having had just a few years experience of Buoy 23, turn right, 16, gybe, racing on our home waters, the Chrysalis crew decided to go voyaging to pastures new. Persuading the crew that Brighton was only 50 miles from Dungeness was simply accomplished by stacking the bilges with Stella but cruising tip number one is that Brighton is a dry port until 11am on a Sunday morning. A sunny, if sober, sail to Gosport followed, during which “George”, the electric tiller mate, managed to pace a 36 footer racing out of Shoreham. When we all waved at them (no hands) they didn’t wave back. Storm-bound in Gosport for two weeks, we made Poole just before the Regatta started on the Saturday.

Sonata Southerns and Poole Regatta

We raced in Poole bay, Chain Ferry, turn right, all windward/leeward courses, and very well organised once the Sonatas had worked out which of the three start lines we should be attending. With two races Saturday, three on Sunday and two Monday, in winds that varied from 20knts to nil, we had plenty of opportunity to mix it with the Southern boys and girls. We managed a second, two threes and a pair of fours (and a complete disaster when we were overtaken by the X Class who started behind us – but luckily that was a discard). That finished us in fourth overall, and behind the ubiquitous Cobweb. You can read Matt Glasgow’s full report here under Bulletins. Spelling is not Matt’s strong point, but he sails pretty well! The series was fairly won by Tom White’s Pizzicato, with an almost perfect scoreline of firsts. Socially, we were well entertained by each of the combined Poole Yacht Clubs in turn but getting to and from them was a taxi or, on one best forgotten occasion, a four mile stroll.

Home sweet home

Getting home to the Medway was accomplished in three hits, Poole–Eastbourne, (night passage thru Hurst Narrows and believe me, its very aptly named – scary stuff!), Eastbourne (lovely place, very friendly staff) – Ramsgate (12 knot surfs in Channel – average speed over 62miles, 8knts, is this a Sonata record?) and Ramsgate – home, a chunky Force 5 beat. Cruising tip number two: take the foul tide early at the Ramsgate end – thinking you can sneak around the ebb into your home river is a mistake in a SW blow.

We’ve now stripped Chrysalis of her cruising gear, and have just finished our own Medway Regatta which I’m delighted to say, we won.

Go with the tide

Was it worth it? Definitely, if you like offshore sailing and a few navigational challenges, and the Sonata is a very capable, fast little boat. But, South coast marinas are expensive—over week stays between legs cost more than my whole year’s mooring at MYC—count yourselves very lucky, you MYC mooring holders! And cruising tip number three? In a Sonata, the tide is your best friend if you get it right, (we grabbed tide-shelter and rest hours at intermediate ports both out and back). Outboarding to beat the tide is not really an option in Channel swell.

7th May 2007

by Mike Harrison.

According to Andy Warhol everyone is entitled to their 10 minutes of fame and Thursday Morning 31st July was deemed to be our day. We hadn’t been doing very well in the short choppy conditions often found in the Solent. I think we had finished 11th, 12th 14th in the first three races. The first three days the winds were about force 4 but with a nasty chop which meant it was difficult to keep your balance and crews were comparing their numerous bruises at the end of the day’s racing.On Thursday morning the forecast was for lighter winds which suited a helm who has rarely raced in open water. On arriving at the pontoon I noticed a small spider weaving a web in the corner of the pushpit. I picked it up and tried to place it on the pontoon but it fell in the water. Feeling somewhat guilty I managed to rescue it from drowning and successfully put it back on the boat leaving it to its own devices and thought no more of it.

Lucky shift…

The day’s race started and we were in a reasonable position on the start line but the boat ahead was giving us some dirty wind so we decided to tack off onto port although most of the fleet were continuing on starboard to pick up the tide. One or two boats followed and we started being lifted on port quite nicely and it soon became clear that the port side of the course was more favourable. We put in a couple of tacks and found ourselves approaching the windward mark somewhat below it and with the owner John Ivory suggesting we should tack now otherwise we would be faced with a wall of starboard tackers at the mark. “No” said the skipper we just need a lucky shift. Almost on queue the wind did shift and lifted us nicely to the mark, arriving there in first place with the eventual Nationals winner Pizzicato not far behind.

…and another

We held the lead on the downwind leg, tacked for the windward mark on the layline but Pizzicato tacked early and was lifted to the windward mark just ahead of us. He went left, we went right and I asked the spider for a shift and again as if on queue it arrived and we arrived at the leeward mark in the lead again.

The last beat was a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Some of the boats went left, some went right: what to do? We went up the middle and arrived at the finishing mark with the top boats bearing down on us at speed. Fortunately we were on Starboard and they had to go behind. We tacked almost on the mark and got the gun for 1st place with the other boats only seconds behind us. What a great feeling to be 1st in a Nationals race. Unfortunately, in the afternoon we were back to our double figure result—I think someone must have trodden on the spider!

With thanks to the owner and cockpit man John Ivory, crews Catherine and David Fry and of course the spider!!

Discovering the French Canals

7th May 2007

by Roger Saunders, C Sharp, Windermere.

In 1492 Christopher Columbus stood at the helm of the Santa Maria and guided the cumbersome craft over the treacherous Atlantic ocean to grasp a place in history as the man who discovered the Americas. Some 500 years later a somewhat less ambitious but equally hazardous voyage was undertaken by the crew of the Hunter Sonata C Sharp… discovery of the French canals!The adventure began with a long, slow trip down the motorway from the sheltered waters of Windermere to the South coast. There, after a quick and completely uncontrolled launch down a near vertical slipway, the boat entered the briny waters of Chichester harbour. After rigging the boat and arranging hasty life assurance polices for the crew of four, C Sharp cautiously nosed her way into a world of salt water, tides, weather forecasts and other vessels considerably larger than herself. The usual manifest of sandwiches and coffee had been doubled during weeks of preparation with serious seagoing equipment. She now carried an inflatable dinghy, one paddle and to solve the mysteries of navigation, an out of date Almanac covering Ascension to St Helena!

Farewell to England

With unfounded confidence in both themselves and the boat, the crew found their sea legs with several days of easy sailing and steering into the morning sun. Calls were made at the instantly forgettable Littlehampton, the flesh pots of Brighton and thence to Rye. At the Strand Quay in Rye the Sonata had to take to the ground. However, all efforts to balance her at low water against the wall proved completely unnecessary as she sunk deep in the mud and stuck solid as a rock. As the crew waited in the nearby dockside tavern there was some debate as to whether she would extricate herself from a swampy grave as the water returned, or fall victim to its power and join the forlorn hulks which adorned the river. It was with some euphoria that the crew returned having forgotten entirely about the peril their ship faced to find her floating merrily at the quay. The incident was erroneously logged as ‘high and dry at Rye’!

The bows of the Sonata were then pointed into foreign and hopefully warmer waters. In fact, as Dungeness power station slipped below the misty horizon we said farewell to England and more significantly to the last indication of our position!

Landfall

The recommended procedure for a channel crossing to Boulogne is not to ‘follow a ferry’ but after all they were going in the right direction! The real hazard is judging the pace of the endless lines of monsters in the shipping lanes and deciding where to skip across. However this was successfully accomplished without loss and the boys at Lloyds heaved a sigh of relief, locked away the Lutine bell and paid themselves a hefty bonus. There was a great deal of mutual backslapping, self congratulation and gratuitous drinking that night as the crew enjoyed a well earned run ashore with the boat safely alongside a pontoon in Boulogne harbour.

Bye-bye to the mast

Forty miles from Boulogne in northern France lies St. Valery-sur-Somme, a treacherous but pretty harbour entered via an eight mile shifting channel on the top two hours of the tide. The village stretches out along the harbour wall and echoes to the shrill whistles of the steam engines which haul trains of tourists to view the estuary. At breakfast time the waterside bars are surprisingly full of men enjoying the first pastis of the day. The mast and rig were quickly left at an obliging marina from which we were assured they could be collected four weeks later, and we ‘locked up’ into the Canal de la Somme. Out came the trusty Seagull and with tyres all round, looking rather like a nasty corner on a racetrack, we chugged off into the depths of northern France.

Learning the ropes

Days on the canals were leisurely with frequent stops for fresh baguette, croissants, mouth watering brie and the kind of wine where the bottle is sealed with a metal cap rather than a cork. Locking is easy, for the French appear to reduce their unemployment levels by providing a keeper and a bicycle at every lock. These individuals are delighted at the company when a boat arrives and occasionally sell bread and vegetables to passers by. Despite the available labour many of the locks are electrically operated and present little problem to the competent yachtsman or indeed to ourselves. However an early lesson on roping the boat was learnt when the force of the water cascading from the sluices turned the Sonata right round and she was forced to emerge stern first!

The Canal de la Somme winds its way through a low land of overhanging trees, reeds and marshy wetlands. The water is inky and still and in many places the overhanging trees meet overhead and cast dark but vivid reflections on the water. You almost wanted to smother the noise of the little engine as it disturbed the waterfowl and broke the silence of the early evening. It would be difficult not to be aware of a sense of beauty over a thinly veiled sadness throughout the Somme and the tragedy of the past is brought vividly to life by the rows of headstones, many unmarked, that surround the towns.

The crew of C Sharp agreed the Somme was a perfect place for boating in August but would probably be regarded differently from a muddy trench during a battle in the cold of January.

As we motored on, we entered the deeper, straighter Canal du Nord and then the Canal de l’Aisne where the Peniches or barges dwarfed us. The French had the foresight to build their canals on a rather larger scale than those at home and their economic viability has been retained. Whole families live on the barges which invariably sport a small Renault on deck which is easily craned ashore in a matter of minutes whenever Monsieur runs out of Gaulioses. The locks on the major canals are truly awesome with towering slimy, green walls and great, steel gates which disappear silently into invisible recesses. The use of water must have been enormous and the Sonata was tossed around like a cork in the bottom.

From Champagne to duty-free

The farthest point reached was Reims in champagne country where after a crew change, we turned back for the coast. The return journey was a repeat of the outward passage except instead of following the ferry across the channel, we took the Sonata on the ferry and enjoyed an altogether more civilised crossing. Sadly, weather conditions had foiled the return journey under sail. Reassuringly, with the boat on the car deck and a bag of duty free to hand, when the ferry’s tannoy announces that the sailing will be delayed due to worsening weather in the channel, you know you made the right decision!

Medway to France and Back

7th May 2007

by Bob Alexander, Tosca crew.

Two Sonatas joined the rally this year, Ian Tredwin and Mike Harrison in Soloist and John Ivory, Catherine Sims and Bob Alexander in Tosca. Ian has extensive cruising experience in his trusty Sonata so he accepted a crew of round the cans racers on Tosca to accompany him. Departing at 21.00 from Medway Yacht Club we punched the tide to Darnett Fort (an alternative boat scrubbing area for the unwary ) where the wind died and engines were started for the run down river punching the last of the flood tide. Mike had a good reason to go to Calais—he needed to get Musical Express into first place, best way to achieve this being to leave the country and let Neil take his place! John Ivory also had good reason to go over to France—boat name stickers are of better quality — he is under some pressure from the crew to rename the boat Rudder Johnny.

Night sail

The full moon, flat calm and phosphorescence on the bow and stern waves made the night hours magical —sailing at night is a must for those who have not tried it. The Princes Channel is a sensible choice at night—just keep taking the red cans down the starboard side seemed to do the trick. At North Foreland we turned south and after 5 hours motoring we decided to top up the fuel tank. Even with a funnel this was a difficult exercise—one gallon plastic cans with emptying tubes are a must. After dawn the wind filled in from the south east and we were able to sail on port fetch all the way into Calais, the tide was strong and there could be no turning back.

Party time in Calais

Waiting for traffic light signals to allow us into the harbour was uncomfortable as the wind was up to force 4, the tide had turned and we were all tired. The inner harbour gate opened at high water and we entered with a dozen other boats. We moored a long way down the dock to reduce the size of the raft, we ended up 4th and 5th on a 5 boat raft on the town side of the quay. There were 180 odd boats from UK and the party was in full swing ! After gin and tonics dozing the afternoon away seemed a good idea—John Ivory decided looking like a lobster was in keeping with the seafood available so he slept on the foredeck in the hot sun—ouch! Having a look around Ian’s Sonata I could see we were sadly under equipped on Tosca, he has more kit than a blue water gypsy, he took more drink into Calais that most took out and even has a gin bottle mounted on the bulkhead with an optic fitted! There are fenders fit for a tug—the big round ones so you can moor up against a rough harbour wall and still have enough gap to fall between. Catherine was so concerned about falling in the dock she was restrained from getting too tanked up—unbelievable!

Mike had to ring home to see how Neil got on in the afternoon race—then took a lot of stick for the boy winning. Thank you to Tom and crew on Quiet Airs for not signing on—good of you to cheer us up so far from home, we do appreciate it, Ha Ha! Ian cooked some spicy sausages and we all sampled these—later these were known as Ian’s revenge. Ian then went off to talk to half the people on the rally—plenty from Upnor and Conyer YCs. We finished Saturday with a superb meal in a local restaurant, One or two of the team going for a late drink in the yacht club.

Sunday dawned grey and we had rain but our spirits were not dampened. Ian went into town early and brought back croissants for breakfast, later there was a presentation for the club with the most boats at the rally: Benfleet coming runners up to Upnor and Upnor managing 11 boats this year. The yacht club welcomed visitors with some humorous speeches, light buffet and a glass of wine, the party atmosphere was still in place. Sunday afternoon was spent in town, followed by another superb meal in the evening. In the yacht club 2 guys played guitars and some sang along to the more popular numbers.

Back to sea

Monday we converted Tosca from a mobile home to a ship for sea, took ages—where does all the kit come from ? The lock gate opened at midday, many farewells and “see you next year” were heard, the outer harbour held a confused sea and not until all the yachts fanned out across La Manche could we relax and enjoy the swell and the sounds of the sea on the hull. Ian was fishing from the back of Soloist, at 6/7 knots, not an easy task. Mike wasn’t happy without a spinnaker up, so on a tight reach soloist sailed with full main and spinnaker. Tosca sailed with full main and No2—as Tosca’s Plimsoll line sits 100mm higher than Soloist’s the boats had a similar speed! The wind eased as we reached East Goodwin and we motored into Ramsgate where many of the Upnor boats were moored—Ian seems to know everybody so we were soon welcomed aboard for a glass and a chat—a great way to end a sail. The evening was a hive of activity, mobile phones were hot as contacts were made with family and friends—we were back from our great adventure.

Tuesday dawned cool and bright and we punched the tide to North Foreland, then with tide under us and spinnaker up we reached down the Horse Channel and 4 Fathoms Channel in glorious sunshine into the Medway. With HMS Exeter passing Ian could not resist dipping his ensign—the huge white ensign on the frigate was dipped in response. Tying up at high tide, 15.00 hrs we unloaded a ton of stores, readying the boat for round the cans racing the following weekend.

Magic Days in the Western Isles

29th October 2005

by Gill, Dennis, Hannah & Joe Barnes.

Is the Sonata only for Racing? With the NW of Scotland’s cruising ground on our doorstep, racing is only half of the story. With a settled ‘high’ just established over the Western Isles, Magic slipped her mooring in Loch Linnhe and caught the last of the ebb through Corran Narrows, before the sun, or even the children, were awake. We soon got into the holiday mood and enjoyed excellent sailing to Drumbuie in Loch Sunart. Another dawn start gave us time for a swim before lunch from the anchorage on the little island of Coll.

Exploring the past

The next day and a half were spent exploring. We had long golden beaches to ourselves, and whilst swimming, were joined by two inquisitive seals. By using the Martin Lawrence pilots to supplement the charts, we were able to pilot our way into some superb anchorages. We visited Muck, Eigg and Canna. An immense sense of history litters these island landscapes that were once inhabited by five times the population. Ruins show the extent of the forgotten crofting Clusters of walls poke up above the bracken, and at low tide there are the remains of stone fish cages in the shallow inlets. For Hannah and Joe there was just so much to learn about. We were beginning to look as if we had been at sea for months, so it was time to call in at Mallaig for fresh food and a hot wash in the new toilets.

Cruising comforts

Magic has lots of extras for cruising. We carry a storm jib and a third reef in the mail which allows us to sail comfortably when the wind really picks up. We tend to reef early and avoid lots of the dramas usually associated with being over-canvassed. Its lucky for us that the two children have always thought that rough weather is part of the adventure and really like it when spray and waves come over the boat. Magic also has possibly the first home constructed outboard well. It’s in the same place as the later factory mark II boats. The outboard is instantly ready for use, it’s forward of the rudder with its weight low and central, the prop is always in the water, and it can’t be dropped over the back. We also have a full length stainless steel pushpit and a boarding ladder fitted to the now unused outboard bracket on the transom This ladder makes climbing aboard after a swim or trips ashore so much easier. We also have a spray hood which is invaluable for cruising. Below, Magic feels comfortable with an adequate galley and a folding table.

Kyles and magic islands

After double checking tide tables we made for the Kyles of Lochalsh, enjoying fantastic weather, sailing and scenery. Hannah and Joe even enjoyed a game of rummy as we went. After anchorages at Plockton and Portree, the call of the wild beckoned again and we headed for the uninhabited Crowlin Islands. An intimidating, rock sided channel only 20m wide separates the two islands. Entering at low water with less than a metre under the keel, we could only marvel at this amazing place once the hook was bedded in within the pool and our swinging room adjusted.

Hannah and Joe rowed around looking at the crabs and the starfish in the tropical-like clear water. Mackerel were on the menu again, a benefit of September sailing, and time for our blood thirsty crew to use winch handle and knife. These islands were once inhabited and are even now still farmed. On the east shore, raised caves are used as sheep holding pens and for shearing. The only signs of modern times though, are the bottles of worming drench left there in one of the caves.

Home again

Two more days of good sailing, needing more in the way of suntan oil than reefs, brought us back to Mallaig. Gill, Hannah and Joe, with a few days less holiday had to return home to Fort William. I was joined by a friend and we set off for several days serious sailing. However the weather took a definite dive for the worse overnight, and this autumn’s continuous succession of gales started. The plans were revised, and after a wild, wet and bumpy bash round Ardnamurchan Point into the teeth of a stiff south-westerly, we took the shortest way home.

Chris Bentley

Posted September 18, 2017

Your current Chair here again with another long one. I have started a new topic because this is a separate, if linked subject to my previous post. Please continue to respond to that. This post is about how we might alter some rules to increase our appeal. It has been prompted by feedback and personal observation.

There are issues. The first, that I am sure will prompt adverse comments from the keen racing fraternity is that the suggestions below, and they are only suggestions, are potentially aimed at altering the “ethos” of the Sonata Class, dividing those who can/want to compete at top racing level away from a sort of “Club Class” that is more of a Cruiser Fun Race level.

Well, I don’t think so, but I stand to be corrected. Going back, Dave Thomas designed the Sonata as a ‘family’ boat, capable of family cruising as well as racing, hence the “toilet and cushion” rules we still retain, plus the fact it won’t plane because he stuck a big Vee in the hull shape aft of the keel. That was the original ethos. It has changed, over the years, mostly because what he actually designed was a very cute One Design race boat, that’s how it has developed, particularly in later years.

Actually, I think, where the Class is at, is that it has generated a core of very dedicated and supportive racing members, the most dedicated of whom travel to race events, another tranche who race competitively at Club level, don’t travel much, and, behind them, there surely are a much larger bunch, there were 400 plus made, who are still owners but either potter with their boats or have abandoned them to barns or yards where they languish. This last, large group are not NSA Members, why should they be? A big difficulty is finding them and the boats and being able to communicate with them. I have a plan for that.

How then might we further encourage my previous post’s aim of at least halting the decline of NSA membership, that, undoubtedly being key to the Class survival? Not boasting, but, look around, any surviving class has an active Association behind it. You need us, to keep the Sonata Class alive for the next 40 years.

My prevous post touched on the difficulty, these days, of sourcing a 4-person crew for a small, not particularly sexy boat to either regularly race Club or do Events over an extended number of days.

SUGGESTION 1.

Reduce the min number of racing crew to two. (Retain the upper limit of 5 plus the requirement to start and finish any “Event” with the same number of crew).

To enable this, allow a furling headsail and, possibly, also, self-tailing winches.

What this would do is allow the possibility. Certainly, I think, let couples race at Club level as a man and wife/partner team, pair of mates, without disadvantage and in control. Sail technology regards furlers has moved on massively. Dragons have always had furling headsails. Financial advantage is one sail opposed to two. Financial disadvantage is one-off cost of a furler, self-tailers, if that too. Race advantage, well, who knows? The classic dilemma at the warning signal, 1 or 2 would be eliminated. Roll it in or out all around the race course at will.

Our rules state that “If it doesn’t say you can, then you cannot”. Put in “Can” to furlers and, maybe, self-trailers, 2 min crew and nobody has to do it, but they could if they wanted to. There was, I think, a perception that bilge keel Sonatas were of inferior performance to fin keels. That was squashed at the Poole Nationals. Maybe the same might apply to furlers.

SUGGESTION 2.

Introduce a “blade” sail between 1 and 2. The original sail plan of a Sonata allows an intermediate sail, see Rules, not, visibly, a blade, nonetheless. The gap between 1 and 2, which is effectively a working jib, would be bridged with a sail that a lighter, maybe smaller crew could manage in over 12 knots. We all know that the decision to carry a #1 in marginally heavy airs is taken more on the basis of the ability of the crew to still tack quickly than keeping the boat on its feet. Sail controls and a beefy, experienced crew enable that, in my experience, and, if you are fortunate enough to have such a crew, you will always err on the side of the #1 because it is quicker. I know I have been stuck with a #1 up in ridiculous amounts of wind because of that decision making process. But what about the lighter, less experienced crews? Again, it’s introducing a possibility. You don’t have to buy one, or use one.

Financially, it brings more expense but this could be balanced by using the #1 less, making it last more than one season. It’s an alternative to suggestion 1 above.

I have become involved in some Classic Yacht racing recently. In the Sonata we almost have a “Classic”. Believe me when I say that the competition is as intense as on any other race course but owners have adapted and improved their craft with modern technology and equipment to keep them competitive and manageable by, often, family crews. That thinking might be usefully employed by us to encourage, or, re-encourage membership and participation.

Please let me have your thoughts.

Chris

Tiger Rag

Posted September 18, 2017

Hello again,

Thanks again for your efforts here Chris. I agree with your point that relaxing the rules risks upsetting the keen races and actually wouldn’t want to see them relaxed too far, even though I’m very much in the club racer group. So before any keeno racers get upset, here’s my thoughts.

Many club racers are already sailing with 2 and so are out of class even if their boats are standard. This means they can’t join in any class events even if they are on their doorstep without having to find extra crew, and if a club has a one-design fleet they’re not technically in it. This may well stop them committing to events. eg. I’ve been looking at Windermere winter racing – that’s a series I’d like to do in future – but it would be just the wife and me so we couldn’t join the one-design class they’re hoping to have.

I don’t really think the boats need changing, it is possible to race with 2 without extra gear. Although I’ve been racing with my boat rigged as when I bought it (which includes a furler) I regularly race against a 2-handed but otherwise in class sonata, and my intention was to go that way myself next season. (At present, by the way, I can’t touch the standard boat to windward until he gets over-pressed – only then is being able to quickly lose some sail useful. To be fair he is more experienced and basically out-sailing me though).

So basically, I strongly favor reducing the minimum crew to 2. But I think that allowing furlers etc. needs careful consideration. An in-between sail size would help lighter crews and may be a better option.

Nat.

Chris Bentley

Posted September 18, 2017

Thanks, Nat,

You obviously are keeping a close eye on our website, brill, wish I could say the same about a lot of others. Hey Ho!

I take your points. Agree with them. Just remind me where you sail from, you are exactly the sort of chap I desperately need to feed me info and stuff from your area. Up for it?

If Tiger Rag is the same boat as I knew, here’s a bit of history for you, if you don’t already know it. First I knew her was as a Medway boat, one Mike Clarke, that, probably 15 years ago. Next was Sandy Woodward, he of Desert Storm fame, he was the man. He kept her in Chichester Harbour at Sparkes Marina. I raced against him at Cowes. On one memorable occasion when I had rights on him at a mark, I asked for “room”. (“Water” in those days). He responded “You have enough”. As he could, in all probability, have summoned an Exocet from Portsmouth to make his point, I shut up and clipped the rounding mark as close as I dared. Smashing bloke, I have a couple more stories about our encounters, unfortunately, as I was strongly advised by his crew, Naval officers to a man, subject to the Official Secrets Act.

No idea who you bought her from. If, indeed, the same boat, add it to your archive!

Chris

Peter Booth

Posted September 18, 2017

Now in my mid seventies and having owned and raced my Sonata for 25 years I find it increasingly difficult to get crew and whilst I am reasonably happy to take new crew out and training them up I still find it difficult at times to get 4 of a crew and when I do have 4 there is usually a combined crew age approaching 250 or over. I rather doubt that I will ever do a regatta again unless it was a single day event. I also want a fairly simple rig e.g. furling genoa as I would like to do more cruising and often single handed so anything that makes short handed sailing easier I would agree to. The numbers racing on the Clyde East Patch have been falling away and we turn a blind eye to boats sailing with a crew of 2 and on one occasion a furling genoa but it would be nice for them to be legal even if it is only a local class rule to get more boats involved in racing. I do realise that these suggested changes are only due to my personal situation and we are really looking at getting more young people into racing but then the Sonata is probably not the favourite boat for young people today.

Peter Booth

Firebird

GBR 8717N

Tiger Rag

Posted September 20, 2017

Hi Chris,

Thought I might be walking into that one. Not exactly that sort of chap at present I’m afraid. I tend not to have time to commit to much – infact I have resigned from Rear Commodore Race at Whitby Yacht Club (that’s where I’m based!) this season as I didn’t have time to do the job as I would like. However, my time on committees has given me insight into these things and how frustrating it is when no-one has time to help or even respond, so I will try to give what assistance I can. I’ll try get you some info about the Sonata situation in the NE.

It is the same Tiger Rag. I have old log books written by Sandy Woodward. It was in fact Sandy who eventually decided he was too old to cope with the big one-design genoa and so fitted the furler and went into handicap racing. Next owners (a group on the Solent) continued this, with some success too – winning 1/8th ton cup. It was back at West Mersea when I bought it, off a lad who’d fulfilled his dream of moving up to a yacht from dinghies only to get disheartened by a lack of crew!

Nat

Euan Aitken

Posted September 20, 2017

Hi Chris

nice to see you back at the helm even if temporarily…. some interesting ideas may be a threat to the OD status but so is reduced numbers.

good luck for the year ahead

Euan

wicked wookie

Chris Bentley

Posted September 25, 2017

Absolutely, Euan. I have a fond, no, wrong word, lasting memory of you vanishing off on Port tack into the mists of the Clyde whilst us lot, Mark, Steve and various others pursued what we calculated to be the correct tactic of getting closer to the windward mark on Elvestrom’s theory, only to discover, when we eventually got back in sight of each other that your ‘flyer’ had got you a lead of several hundred yards! I never did get the hang of racing on the Clyde but Sharon and I had a great time trying.

I sure have no intention of threatening the OD status, just suggesting ways it might be made more accessible.

Chris

Chris Bentley

Thank you for your comments. Rest assured, you are not alone, there is a significant proportion of the existing Sonata fleet in a very similar position, for one reason or another. 25 years of ownership says a great deal about our wee boats. I count myself as one, having owned BFG since 1976. My current personal view is that there is absolutely no point in trying to sell BFG. I would get pence. I would far rather beach her until either the market picks up, which my plans are aimed at, or give her away. However, currently, BFG is in Poole because Sharon and my children live close by and they can use her which they have done. Our personal use has been limited to the Sonata Southerns, Seaview, Isle of Wight and the RTI this year. Bit of a reduction on our previous racing programme, hey-ho, age, other commitments, etc., impinge.

I seriously do think we as a Class need to consider how we best proceed to ensure our survival for the next 40 years. It is not impossible. Others have done it and we have an excellent vehicle in the Sonata to achieve that. Sonatas are almost a “Classic”, (not yet quite in the Classic Yachts definition), so lets go for “Iconic”.

As an aside, my youngest son raced in the re-formed Quarter Ton Cup recently in Cowes. World class competition. Most of those boats are custom-built for that event. Not far off a Sonata’s dimensions, with an international following. His boat was an original, much modified, obviously. They got a second in the “Original” class. My point is that, Sonatas could, with some effort, generate something similar. It isn’t hard, it requires effort on the part of your NSA Committee, we will do that, but most importantly, it requires the support of the Class.

There is an appetite for racing “Classic Yachts”, hopefully also “Iconic” yachts. Never more so than now. See the rise of, for example, the company, Classic Yachts of Ipswich, the growth of Classic events all around the UK, let alone, France where they have been doing this for years. As Sonatas, we might not entirely qualify as a “Classic”, but we sure as hell qualify as “Iconic” amongst all of the 1970’s GRP boats that were made then and have since vanished.

My view of the Sonata Class is that we should adapt to the changed needs of our current members by allowing, for example, a 2 – crew minimum. On the other hand, at a racing level, we, NSA, should not do anything that precludes the Sonata as a completely one-design boat.

When my Committee have assembled their opinions I will be communicating with the whole Class, well, as many of them as I can via email, to inform them of what we propose. The tone of the email will be along the lines of what we, NSA, can do to ensure the survival, hopefully, growth of Sonatas not only as race boats but as fab little cruising boats, as evidenced by some tales in our “Yarns” section here.

Chris

Paxo

Posted July 2, 2020

HI

We have just brought a Sonata (MK4) and are looking for original serial number and sail number but cannot see a builders plate. Where should it be located?

• 5 weeks later…

Mark Taylor

Posted July 31, 2020

If it has been measured there should be a sail number engraved (or often drilled) in minimum 20mm numerals into the top edge of the transom……if that isn’t there then the boat can’t have been measured and that makes life harder for trying to find original details etc.

Quite a few of us have been successful in finding a moulding number, as Hunter often wrote the number on the inside of the transom using a felt pen. I think the association secretary (Catherine Hartley) might have a list that correlates moulding numbers to sail numbers. My first Sonata was GBR 8025 and we bought her unmeasured, but found a moulding number which I think was actually 15………..I never did find out why there was a mis-match but can only assume the first owner bought boat 15 but was late registering, so got sail number 25???

Regards

Mark

Saraband GBR 8314N

• 2 weeks later…

Paxo

Posted August 9, 2020

Thanks Mark

Paul Hopper

Posted August 16, 2020

Hi Paxo.

We had a MK4 Sonata on the Medway probably up to around 2008 or so – sail number 8181 – red hull. One of her owners is still at Medway and I can put you in touch if you want if she is the same boat?

Paul

• 7 months later…

Paxo

Posted March 20

Hi Paul

Sorry, only just seen your post.

I’ve found number now and have received certificate, but would still be interested in speaking to any previous owner.

regards

John

Steve HB

Posted September 5, 2020

Hello Sonata forums,

Thinking about purchasing a Sonata for round-the-cans racing, wondered if anyone has a recent IRC rating for Sonata OD fin keel?

Steve HB

• 5 weeks later…

Adam

Posted October 5, 2020

Hello,

Our club uses 0.820.