or at least on those who can be bothered to crawl out of bed on a wet Saturday morning.
By: Patrick Angier
When I first moved to Scotland a couple of years ago at the end of the last century I was taught three things about the Scottish Weather:
1) The Scottish Weather can’t read and does n’t have a television (or noawadys access to the Internet) so it can’t read the weather forecast or watch Heather the Weather and know what it is supposed to be doing.
2) If you don’t like the current weather, don’t worry another season will be along in a few minutes
3) £200 easily solves Scottish weather – buys an air ticket to sunnier climes or a decent set of water proofs. OK inflation has probably £300 or £400, but you get the point.
And all my Paragliding friends (a very weather dependent sport – much more so than sailing) insist that I let them know when I will be away orotherwise occupied so that I am the sacrifice and there will be perfect flying weather.
Evening train journey back on Thursday, plenty of emails and calls in from fellow club members, family and other friends saying that the weekend looks a write off as regards the weather. Friday evening was on the point of pressing the cancelled button, but realised that RFYC email probably
wouldn’t be forwarded, so would go down and cancel things on Saturday morning. But I did know that our Vice Commodore had theatre tickets for Saturday afternoon and on Friday he did try to convince me that he was really looking forward to it and that it really would be OK because the weather would be terrible.
Saturday morning – awoke to rain. Not a lot of enthusiasm in the Border Maid household. Couldn’t even find our sailing waterproofs – had been stored safely in plain view of all of us!!!. Arrived at Granton at 9.30 am – rain not actually lashing down, but from the faces of fellow club members in the bar, enthusiasm was yet to join us. “Not a lot of point going out knowing you are going to get wet” muttered one. “Let’s cancel this and I will go and antifoul Border Maid” I was on the point of saying. We agreed to reconvene
at the bar at 12 noon for après sailing activity which very quickly, and I can’t quite remember the course of the dialogue but “I suppose we are here so may as well go and check the boats” transpired to “lets go out for a quick blow to wash the winter dust off the sails” and into “to lets go into
Aberdour to celebrate Robyns and David’s birthday’s in the pub”.
I was crewing for David on Shuvler – wasn’t actually raining as Dylan the Boatman dropped us in the West harbour. Sailed off the mooring – a nice thing to do, and soon we were under full sail accompanied by Aziana and Hoodlum
with the RIBS Olympian and Broadsword behaving a bit like pirate boats chasing an oil tanker, although their skippers I am sure would argue that they were being close shepherds.
It was good to be back on the water – waterproofs down in the cabin, 15 knot breeze and just in wooly jumper. Lot of puffins and guillemots out on the water, but no razorbills as yet. And no rain, and no low cloud.
Tied up alongside in Aberdour, not quite sure what happened to the pub bit, but beer, birth day cake and lobster were produced.
And the sun came out.
Just magic sitting in the cockpit with sun on your face. We came back to the West of Inchcolm. Sun now fully out, but big purple rain clouds over the castle and Fife. I did ask my Skipper to set a course back to Granton so as not to shade the cockpit with the sails.
Feeling of smugness and slight sunburn as we came ashore at 3pm – I love those sneaky days when you go out expecting the worst, but it turns out right. And by 7 pm Border Maid was looking very tidy with fresh antifoul on the undersides ready to go in the water over the next few days.
So a very simple lesson learned by all. Which will be forgotten next time there is a foul forecast for the weekend.
The following gallery of photos is from Ken Dougall