A giant leap forward

What’s it like sailing on the Broads? We have been asking ourselves that for some time. Once we actually sailed on the Thames from Penton hook to Chertsey, in full sail followed by onlookers running down their gardens with cameras. The bridge at Chertsey forced us to pull all the sails down after what was an ‘all too short’ taster. The sail up to Norfolk on the sea was done in less than favourable sailing conditions due to lack of wind and time constraints. Our intended sail from Yarmouth to Lowestoft was cancelled due to a rough sea state. So, with childcare on hand and conditions inland looking good we set about rigging the boat. If this was our moment then we’d get everything ready including the bow sprit, as we had learned that the sails forward of the mast were important to balance out the power of the main sail. We had also just fitted a new depth sounder to the boat and had established that 2 metres under the hull should be adequate depth; with the lee board down. After about two hours of preparation we were finally ready to cast off and once passed the swing bridge would start raising the sails. On approach to the bridge we noticed they were displaying two flags: denoting that the bridge was out of order. Typical, I thought, after all this effort we were to be thwarted yet again. Fluorescent jackets could be seen on the bridge so perhaps all was not lost. As we moored to wait I reminded the captain that the bow sprit was out, which was just as well because we were mooring behind the boat owned by the parents of Chris who had helped us up from London. A twelve foot pole punched through the back of that boat was going to do nothing for inter-boat relations, or our confidence, in what must be admitted is quite an ambitious undertaking. After a catch up with Chris’s dad someone announced that the bridge was opening. We set off, with our friends’ boat behind under engine, but quickly decided that we’d slow down and let them by as if things were to go wrong we’d rather do it without an audience. The leeboard was dropped and the long process of raising the main started. It’s heavy work and can be done hydraulically but we opted to take it slowly in case anything jammed. Then the stay sail went up followed by the furling head sail - which did indeed jam, for reasons I won’t go into but it involved me sliding out down the bow sprit and giving the drum a manual turn. The sail then spun out to full size causing the bow sprit to shudder in a most unnerving way, prompting me to safely return to the boat. All this was done in a section of the river that put us head to wind and the captain admirably kept her cool keeping the boat on track throughout all these goings on. The river then turned to put the wind on our side - or even slightly astern - which helped stabilise the sails and finally we were underway. One engine went off and the other reduced to an out of gear idle. Once happy the captain shut this engine down too and all was quiet except for the creaking of ropes and the sound of water. We’d been making 4.5 mph over the ground against the tide, which is frankly quite fast enough, when we rounded a bend to see a hire boat with a child at the controls right in our path. Helm control was positive so the expected roar of engines never happened, however the blast of Golden Mean’s horn was enough to raise the child’s father who swiftly got their boat onto their side of the river. We sailed on across Haddiscoe marshes with a freshening breeze powering us on our way from a forgiving angle. There was one more tricky moment as the depth sounder registered less than 2 metres but nothing indicated that we’d made contact with anything. And then, all too quickly, we were back home. The sails came down easily and the captain did another of her textbook moorings. We opened up a bottle of champagne to celebrate what undoubtedly is a giant leap forward for the crew of Golden Mean.