BOAT - Bring on another thousand.

A first season on the Broads.

“This boat thing. I mean what’s it all about?“ I ask James Knight during a quiet downward run at Wroxham one Sunday lunchtime in July. “Ah, that’s easy” he replies, “Boat stands for ‘Bring On Another Thousand’” And do you know he’s right.

Readers from the last issue will remember that I’d fancied the idea of owning a river cruiser for some time and found 222 Swallowtail, an Easticks 28, moored-up on the TopSail website. Ten days later she was mine. Ker-Ching! That was easy.

And of course boating isn’t free, although Bev from the TopSail website didn’t exactly labour the point. It was going to cost a little each month and I was expecting the odd bill for insurance, bits & bobs and tolls and even perhaps something for mooring it somewhere. Quite where to moor I hadn’t exactly worked out at the point of purchase but I had a pretty good idea that there might be a swing buoy on Wroxham Broad. I’d ask Keith at the clubhouse. There was. Ker-Ching! That was easy too.

Having spent some time at Brooms in Brundall [Ker-Ching! Ker-Ching!] I had assumed that the boat was ready to sail. But the jib halyard wasn’t quite long enough and I needed a boat hook and a mud weight and a few other things like a replacement rope clutch on the tabernacle, some snap shackles, bungee, brushes, varnish, portable loo, loo paper, loo chemicals, loo disinfectant and many other such sundries. That Norfolk Marine shop in Wroxham is great! Ker-Ching!

Up to this point we hadn’t done much sailing but that was all about to change. James Knight and I entered a lunchtime cruiser race and had a go. And it doesn’t go too badly. I mean, obviously we came last. But we didn’t hit anyone. No near-misses either. A good start. And the boat did all right except that there seemed to be a problem with the genoa. The wire-thing inside was twisted and the shape was all wrong. And the other jib seemed a bit frayed and ropey too. Just the sort of thing that Jeckells might be able to sort out for us by Saturday. They do. Terribly nice people. Ker-Ching!

So Wroxham week arrives and with a selection of different crew members we improve all week. And everyone seems so friendly and welcoming to the beginner in their midst. It’s at this point that I want to publicly apologise to Forrester for an oversight on the Wednesday at lunchtime.

You see, we were in a bit of a tight spot at the Number 2 buoy not able to go to port because all the other boats that had rounded the mark were coming towards us and we couldn’t go to starboard [you see, I’m learning all the nautical terms] as I knew I should because Meggie was shadowing us and all the time the mark was getting closer. And I couldn’t let-out the mainsail because the boom would snag Meggie’s rigging so I suppose we were trapped … like being on a roller coaster you can’t get off.

And now Forrester is approaching the buoy on Starboard. And she’s getting closer too. Quickly. I’m getting this funny feeling in my tummy. And if we’re to avoid a collision [Ker-Ching!] we might have to go for that gap that’s miraculously appeared before us. “Go for it” my experienced crew-person [name and address supplied] on the foredeck shouts. So I do. We avoid a nasty prang. And we didn’t even hit the mark as Forrester beared-away.

“That was DISGUSTING!” Forrester comes on the megaphone “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life! Disgusting! Dis-gus-TING! Put up a red flag! Have You Got One? Do you want to Borrow one?” “Er, No thank you. We were already flying one for touching the mark earlier and we don’t seem to have a spare. Sorreee” We’ll put that one down to experience. Ooopps!

So I’m sitting in the clubhouse afterwards talking to Damian and he tells me that there’s something not quite right about my boat. Now, I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t slightly insulted but I listen attentively. You see, my sails aren’t the right shape or the right size. We’ll never get anywhere with that lot. What we need is a new suit of sails.

Mike Barnes chips-in. “It’s a bitsa boat, John. There’s bits off this boat and bits off that boat. What you need is a new suit of sails. And do you see the way in which your fore-deck seems to be bulging where the bowsprit is attached. I’d get that seen to if I were you.” Ker-Ching! Ker-Ching!!

Hmmm. I need a holiday to think about this. This boating lark seems to be getting out of hand. And there’s no way we’re going to have a new suit of sails. No Way. Not a chance. No Sireee!

Fast forward to late August and Barton Regatta. Now, this is what it’s all about! A nice stiff breeze, rafting-up with friends. Yes, the nice stiff breeze. Could this be the opportunity we’ve been waiting for to try-out our newly repaired [ker-ching!] storm jib. There’s no point in having it unless you’re going to use it so we fit it [in the wrong place] and start the race. We don’t seem to be going forward very fast. In fact, we’re going backwards and it’s getting windier and then we run aground in the middle of the broad. We retire.

They say that worse things happen at sea but I’m going to tell you that’s wrong. The worst things happen on Barton Broad. At the end of the weekend we’re lowering the mast in preparation for the trip back to Wroxham and it’s going quite well until the stainless booming out pole acting as an ‘A’ frame flopped onto my wife’s head. Now, I can tell you for an absolute certainty that it hurt so badly it made her eyes water. Oh dear.

So I ask Ronnie “when-it’s-tight-enough-that’ll-rattle” Dack from Landamores to have a look and he prescribes two new strops of a particular length complete with snap-shackles, two new booming-out-pole sheets plus the removal of a winch. That booming-out pole won’t flop and bump anyone else on the head in future that’s for sure. Ker-Ching! And Philippa recovered quite well after a visit to hospital for a check-up too.

Despite these few mishaps I think we’re progressing well so I report back to Shaun Roberts, the previous owner. And I’m explaining to him how the genoa isn’t that brilliant at pointing into the wind and the storm jib isn’t really balanced with the main and he interrupts. We shouldn’t be using any of those sails. No wonder we’re always last. What we should be using is the Big Jib. “What big jib?” I ask. “You know, the Biggun.” He replies. Pause. “Ah! That will be the jib that’s still hanging here in my garage. Sorry! I forgot to give it to you!” I drive to Oulton Broad to collect it. Good news at last. A piece of new equipment that doesn’t cost me anything. Hurrah!

And just in time for the Yare-Nav too. All I can say is that we started at 10:30, ran aground five minutes after smugly smirking at Forrester, who was aground herself, finished at 17.53 with seven minutes to spare, and I think we didn’t come last. Brilliant! A good result. Oh yes, and we spanked Maidie in front of the crowds at Reedham Ferry.

So the season is drawing nicely to a close and naturally I’ve produced a big list of small jobs that it would nice to have done over the winter. Ker-Ching! I’m going to have the boat taken out of the water [Ker-Ching!] at the Waveney River Centre [WRC] and stored on dry land for the winter. [Ker-Ching!] and whilst they’re at it, would I like the bottom pressure washed as well? It’ll be forty quid. No thanks.

So Philippa and I are motoring to the WRC in late October and I’m packing-up the mainsail and taking it off the boom and I notice this horrible crack at the tabernacle end. Cripes! The boom is hanging together by a splinter and is a complete write-off. So we’ll add a new boom to the big list of small jobs to be done. Ker-Ching! Ouch.

And if we’re having a new shorter boom then a trip to Jeckells for a new suit of sails is indicated. Obviously. Ker-Ching! Ker-Ching! And just before Christmas the membership renewal for Wroxham drops onto the door mat.

Don’t ask. I’ve stopped counting. But bring on another thousand!