Scottishboating is a year old

This blog is one year old today, so we're celebrating with a cake (and maybe a drop of the Laddie).

A few months ago Nikki and Bart visited from New Zealand, where apparently everyone is into healthy eating. They brought this cake, which is seriously good for putting instant energy into hungry outdoor types, be they salty sailors mariners, crazy canoeists, frozen fishermen or whatever. Of course it suits anyone allergic to wheat or just trying to lose weight. Here is the recipe for-

Nikki's Flourless Fruit Cake

Ingredients:-

2 whole oranges

6 eggs

generous teaspoon of each of nutmeg, cinnamon, mixed spice or whatever plus half teaspoon of ground cloves

300 grams ground almonds

2 kg dried mixed and fruit (chopped prunes, apricots, raisins, sultanas) soaked in rum or brandy for a few days

Method:-

Simmer the oranges in water for 30 minutes, remove, allow to cool, remove pips and blend to a pulp.

Beat the eggs and add the pulped oranges. Mix well now and at every stage.

Add the spice.

Add the almond.

Add the fruit.

When all thoroughly mixed transfer to a square tin 23 to 24 cm lined with baking paper, outside wrapped in two layers of brown paper. Cover top with double layer of baking parchment with hole cut in middle.

Put in oven heated to 120 degrees electric fan or equivalent, bake for 3 hours 45 minutes.

Pour cup of rum or brandy over cooked cake while it's still warm.

I don't apologise for the above product placement, Bruichladdich do such a good job sponsoring the Crinan Classics.

Crinan Classic Boat Festival - Part II

The Crinan Classics attract an interesting fleet of yachts and this year there were several old favourites including two of the boats in our Class 2, Macaria and Zaleda.

Macaria is a lovely old yawl designed by Peter Dickie and built by his yard in Tarbert in 1922. The design shows the very strong influence of Albert Strange, who had been a close friend of the Dickie family and designed several yachts that were built by them. Macaria at 34 feet is a little larger than Cherub III, Strange's own yacht built by Dickies in 1910, smaller than Quest II, a 44 foot Strange design from 1907 and about the same size as Sheila II from 1910. All are comfortable, canoe-sterned cruising yachts with a surprising turn of speed.

Macaria

I had seen Macaria around the West coast for years before I ended up doing some yacht restoration at Renfrew and found myself alongside Macaria when the late Gordon Findlay had her. I got a good chance to see her at close quarters and marvel at the quality of her build, in particular the internal joinery work. Later a modern near-replica of Macaria was built, but failed to capture the Strange-inspired magic and reach the level of the Dickie's craftsmanship.

Zaleda was designed by James McGruer, built by his firm and launched in 1966. The Seven Metres emerged after the Cruiser Eights were proving too expensive to attract clients, but being built to the same exacting standards and still quite big at 35 feet plus they were also expensive and proved to be the last of the "class" boats built without regard to economy. Only five were ever built.

Zaleda

Zaleda's first owner was Douglas Nisbet, whose father George was the first owner of my Stroma. Douglas's nephew Bill Hogg acquired her a few years ago and had her perfectly restored at Silvers. Stroma was of course built by a previous generation of McGruers, being launched in 1929, so the boats are related.

Zaleda in a breeze

Friday was a bright sunny day with little promise of wind, so we were spared a long slow beat North into Loch Craignish and given instead a short one from the start at the Black Rock to Eilean nan Coinean (Coney Island) off the entrance to Loch Craignish followed by a short reach South and then a run back to the start, followed by another short turn round two buoys nearer home. In the event it was so calm after the start that the course was shortened to end after the run.

Zaleda got off to a great start and sailed faultlessly round the course, easily saving her handicap over the rest of us and carrying off the prize.

As often happens the wind increased after the course was shortened and as we crossed the line the Truant flew past and challenged us to a mini-race round the second circuit. Foolishly we accepted and so were beaten twice, while everyone else was only beaten once.

We consoled ourselves by reflecting that we had enjoyed a lovely sail, reminding ourselves that it's no loss what a friend gets and that, anyway, you take part in these things for the joy of seeing beautiful boats in action.

One of the best things about the Crinan Festival is the social atmosphere. This year to the pipe band aboard the puffer VIC 32 and the splendid traditional ceilidh in the cowshed were added the delights of the Madrigirls from Glasgow University, who sang throughout the weekend. The well-known and talented model-builder David Spy entertained some of us with an illustrated biographical talk about his art and how he graduated to it from full-sized boat building. Added to all this of course is the joy of talking about boats endlessly in one of our prettiest and most historical spots.

We had arranged to be joined for the next two days by Mary Ray, who with her husband owns Stroma's sister Bernera. During one of the social events of the evening our complement grew even further, promising a very congenial crew for the Saturday race.

arrival of new crew Fiona

Saturday was again lovely and sunny, with little wind. The start was delayed a bit, partly to let boats lock out of the canal, but this was to cause problems for some later as the committee failed to also delay the tide. We had a moderate start and then a gentle drift to the West to turn a mark laid off Eilean na Cille, the "island of the little (monk's) cell" about two miles into the Sound of Jura.

Salty sea dogettes Jude and Fiona

As we neared the mark the wind failed and we could see the boats in front getting caught in the North-going flood. They included Macaria, which had been sailed  brilliantly for a heavy boat in a calm. We all kept still and quiet, sails nice and loose and keeping the boat heeled gently, as we stemmed the tide and made it into the shallow water inshore of the mark, with less tide. The problem is always - when to tack? Too soon and you join the others drifting North on the wrong side of the mark; too late and you let others through. We probably got it about right and started to breath again when we cleared the mark. It was nice to admire Zaleda's nice varnished hull shining in the sunshine behind us. We had a long broad reach back to the Black Rock, then some triangular circuits closer to Crinan to do.

The skipper tries to concentrate

The wind now started to fill in and we made it into a ruffled belt on the water, where we were soon careening along at a couple of knots. Of course Zaleda soon had her spinnaker up and cruised past us.

Handicap racing in calm weather is unfair on the faster yachts, because while everyone is sitting in the calm and hardly moving the slower boats are clocking up time. Zaleda had a lot to do to overcome this and didn't quite manage, although she was first over the line by a good distance.

On the Sunday, for the Ladies Race, we had more wind, but another sunny day. Was this really the West of Scotland? The only sad thing was that the salty sea dogettes had had to go home for a party!

Sunday's crew

Mary gave us a perfect start and cleared us away so well that when we tacked onto port we were able to clear the entire fleet. Behind us there seemed to be tense scenes as boats on starboard were closing the boatyard shore and calling for water. There was quite a bit of shouting, which all proves how competitive ladies can be.

The wind kept up all day and we had a pleasant, relatively stress-free day, Mary keeping us out of trouble while John and I crewed the ship. Zaleda crossed the line first, making it a hat-trick, but once again she didn't quite save her handicap. Mary was given a nice framed poster for her trouble.

The Festival was now at an end, but the forecast suggested that we could look forward to a good sail home on the Monday, promising a brisk South-easterly. It was good that Mary's husband Arup could join us for the sail home, as Bernera has been out of commission waiting for her new mast after the last one broke.

Just as for the trip down we had a single reef, on the grounds that it's easier to shake one out underway than to tie one in. In the event the reduced sail was just right for the conditions and we had a fast reach home, this time with wind and tide in harmony.

rolling home in a breeze

Crinan Classic Boat Festival Part I

It's been a pretty mixed season for the Stromas, as we have had some pretty awful weather and when it's been nice and sunny there's usually been too much wind for social sailing. The storm in May had an unsettling effect and maybe we have not really wanted to be far away from our very secure hide-out at the head of a sheltered  little sea-loch. As I write this we're waiting for yet another blow and Poor Little Tam, the poet, has just sent a message "woe that ever I was born, to suffer the horrors of ex-hurricane Katia." And Stroma is still afloat, waiting patiently to be taken out. She was a bit happier in the picture above, waiting for a little Danish Oil to freshen up the toe-rails.

What we missed on quantity was made up for in quality however. Sometimes one grabs a few days of utterly idyllic sailing in perfect conditions of wind and sun, beautiful scenery and good company and such an episode makes the whole business of looking after an old boat worth while.

This happened for us in early July, when we went South to the fifth Crinan Classic Boat Festival, organised by Mike Dalglish and Ross Ryan. I was in two minds about going, because the previous four events have taken place in conditions that verged on survival at times. Last year's event was a horror. Given a bad forecast Stroma was left on her mooring and we took the Kelpie down by road, only to take her home a few days later after managing less than an hours sailing, or more accurately hanging on for dear life and frenziedly bailing.

This year I didn't have my usual crew, as they were all attending a wedding. Young John Wilson, who hadn't come along since 2006 (see An Innocent Pursuit), managed to prize himself away from wife, son and horse and come along. (He's not so young maybe, since we have been sailing together off and on since the early 1980s, but at least he's a bit younger than me.)

Thursday 30 June was a lovely day with a blustery West-north-westerly. It was too good a day to waste waiting for the tide, so we got underway in the late morning. I reasoned that it would take us a while to get down South against the tide to the Dorus Mhor and if there wasn't enough wind to push us through once we got there we would just have to sail about until slack water.

Under one reef in the main we had a fast but comfortable sail South and arrived at the Dorus Mhor even earlier than expected. We could see our destination a  couple of miles away on the other side of a mass of water boiling up against us. After a quick conference we decided not to hang about for slack water but to chance going through. Soon we were charging into the channel on an extremely broad reach on Starboard tack.

We were now presented with a tricky choice. Holding to the North side, near Craignish Point, would keep us out of the main stream, but ran the risk of a tidal eddy grabbing Stroma and giving us an accidental gybe, but keeping a safe angle to the breeze would soon bring us into an adverse stream running at about five knots. The solution was to go on towards the edge of the stronger stream, then gybe and reach back to the North side. Gybing in a breeze, when the skipper steers and issues commands, one hand hauls in the main-sheet, another tends to the running backstays and someone else looks after the jib-sheets is really quite easy. It's less fun when there are only two of you on board. Making sure you don't lose the mast is the priority, so our efforts weren't tidy. A few minutes later we had to gybe again, as we were now closing the Craignish shore at a great rate and it was obvious that we couldn't clear the point into Loch Craignish. Invigorated by the gybes and minus some pride and a couple of slides from the sail-track we were then clear of the worst of the tide and running fast to our favoured anchoring spot.

By late afternoon our ship was sitting nicely a hundred metres or so off the entrance to the canal and we were looking forward to the Festival's delights, not least of which are meeting old friends, making new ones and sampling the fine Bruichladdich that is a feature of these events.

Classics again - therapy please

A modern classic?

I admit that in the past I've suffered from it myself in the past, but I'm pleased to report that I'm nearly cured. I mean of course speculating about what is or is not a classic boat.

Every now and again a thread is started on a forum somewhere and the old craving to take part nags away, like the reformed nicotinic's inner compulsion to light up. Currently one is running on Classic Boat here and I'm trying to resist.

Matters aren't helped very much by the availability of magazines with names like Classic Boat, organisations like the Freundeskreis Klassiche Yachten and the British Classic Yacht Club and at this time of year events all over the place with that word in their name. Dammit, next week Stroma and I are off to the Crinan Classics.

Many years ago, before I was cured, I was involved a bit in the nascent European Classic Yacht Union and travelled great distances for meetings, where defining a classic became a major topic for debate. I became convinced that everyone regards his or her own ship, or the one he or she aspires to own, as a classic. Consciously or not we try to broaden the category to suit our subjective taste and exclude ships we simply don't like, or those made from materials we don't like.

My late friend, sometime mentor and gentle eccentric David Ryder-Turner provided a thoughtful piece on the subject for the Freundeskreis, which can be read here. He may have intended it to be the last word on the subject, but predictably it started yet another thread running. David was a Fife addict with a love of long overhangs and it shows in his article, despite his obvious struggle to be fair and objective.

British Classic Yacht Club also share the enthusiasm for long overhangs and it's easy to overlook that they were regarded as ugly when they arrived on the scene. They're not all that practical either, as they usually don't achieve their intended aim of extending by very much the immersed length of the hull. Personally I find some of the state-of-the-art racing machines attractive as having genuine functional beauty.

It's a lot easier to say what isn't relevant to being classic. Authenticity certainly hasn't got anything to do with it, because surely an incredible design from the past could be regarded as classic even if the actual ship didn't exist any more.  Whether a particular object is original, a rebuild, a restoration or a replica is only really of interest to those who regard these objects, like Barnato's Bentley, as investments rather than  aesthetically.

Easiest of all is just not to get involved in the discussion and to spend one's time doing something useful. I'm off to put some varnish on the toerails and if that doesn't work it'll have to be therapy.