SPRING AWAKENING - The First Sail of the Season

The tiller comes alive in my hand as I sheet in the mainsail. I silence the engine and roll out the jib. Stargazer heels to the breeze and accelerates. Her bow wave chuckles its approval. A smooth straight wake stretches astern. Ahead lies the season to come. Here and now we are revelling in our moment of Spring Awakening. My senses are heightened. I’m mesmerised by the rush of wind through the rigging, by the lift of the bow over the swell, by the pull of the tiller, by the silver spangled sunlight dancing across the deep blue of the water and by the joy that fills my heart.

All dressed up and somewhere to go.....

Two hours ago Stargazer was dormant ashore on the hard. Her polished topsides gleamed and her newly antifouling shone in the sun. All dressed up and ready to go. The travel hoist approached her  like an ungainly mother spider, fussed over her, gathered her up into its rusty bosom and laid her gently in the water. I climbed aboard and fired up the engine, listened for the reassuring cough and spit of cooling water from the exhaust. Listened in vain; dove below to check that the cooling water seacock was open. The seacock was open but no cooling water was coming through.

The travel hoist crew and I warped Stargazer round to the fuel berth. A kettle full of water into the water strainer re-primed the cooling system. The engine gruffly rumbled its thanks for the drink before coughing and spitting like an old tobacco chewing cowpoke: “Water, what do you call that? It should have been whiskey, Chew, Spit. Give me a proper drink, chew, spit. A proper drink you hear me?” It went in its reassuringly familiar rhythm. I retreated to the peace of the foredeck and hoisted the jib on the furler. The saill hung still as I tensioned the halyard and rigged the sheets. Then a ghost of wind gently bellied the sail. The sea breeze was extending a finger into the bay and beckoning us out for our first sail of the season.

The slim form of the new Twin Sails Bridge

I slipped the lines. We motored down past the Lifeboat Headquarters on autopilot as I stowed the fenders. The slim form of Poole’s new Twin Sails Bridge lay before us, draped gracefully across the channel. A long heartfelt groaning sound goes up as its long leaves start to lift. The tips curved down clinging onto the solid decks either side. The new bridge looks as if it loves to soar lightly in the air. In its heart though it wants to lie down and cling to the solid ground. The honest to goodness old bridge lies beyond. It quietly goes about its work, raising its stubby flaps quietly and steadily to allow us out. “That’s the way to do it” the old bridge seems to say to its prima donna new sister. “I may look dumpy and old next to you but I do my work quietly and without complaint – call me Cinadarella!”

The sun filters down through the canopy of the trees off
Goathorn Point......

Then we’re out in the harbour, tiller alive, heeling to an Easterly “Jolie Brise” and short tacking down harbour.  Brownsea Island slips by to Starboard. Ahead there’s a Folkboat enjoying the breeze like Stargazer. Slowly we gain on her. We’re pointing higher and sailing faster. We cross tacks, smile and wave. Oh the joy of passing another boat! We’re past “Aunt Betty” buoy now. One board will see us down to the ferry.

........and Oystercatchers sun themselves on the sand spit

The ferry makes a mournful lowing sound. We’re sailing in bright sunshine. At the harbour mouth the ferry is holding back a grey billowing candyfloss of grey sea mist. We run off into South Deep. Follow the twisting channel past the withies with a close eye on the depth sounder. The withies are salt worn and grey from the cold hard winter. The sun is behind them. Are they red or are they green? It’s hard to know which side to pass. In the summer I’d know which was which. After a winter ashore I can’t remember. My memory has faded like the paint on the withies. We zig zag down the channel bouncing between the 3m contour on either side of the channel to find the best water. We round up in the pool off Goathorn and anchor.

Sunset over Furzey Island

Stargazer is close in to the sandy beach. Its spring tides and at low water it feels as if we could step ashore. Oystercatchers sun themselves on the sand spit alongside. Astern the afternoon sun filters down through the canopy of the trees creating an enchanted forest. Birdsong echoes between the tall gothic columns of the tree trunks. There is no movement in the still of the wood and yet there is a feeling of life. Stargazer lies to her anchor sheltered from the breeze in our own tranquil pool as the water drains away around us; Five miles and yet a million miles from our berth. As the sun sets over Furzey Island I savour the stillness and watch Venus and Jupiter blaze above the merest sliver of a crescent moon in the clear dark expanse of the sky. This is a special moment - Our Spring Awakening.