admin Date , Wednesday April 22 , 2026
There are some mornings on a sailing course when you wake gently to the sound of water lapping against the hull, the soft movement of the boat, and the promise of another peaceful day in Croatia.
This was not quite one of those mornings.
During the night, the wind had turned. Not just a polite little adjustment, but enough of a change to set the anchor alarm off on Papaya, the Sailing Fair Isle catamaran. Steve, Judy, Jane and Barry had found themselves rather closer to the shore than anyone would sensibly choose, especially in the dark, and so they made the very wise decision to move at sunrise.
It was a useful reminder that anchoring is not simply a matter of dropping a heavy lump of metal over the front and hoping for the best. Boats swing. Wind changes. Shorelines creep closer. Alarms go off. And people who were hoping for a quiet night suddenly find themselves navigating before breakfast.
Our own morning began rather more calmly, with breakfast on board.
This time the menu included pink grapefruit, strawberry sandwiches and orange juice. I am not sure whether strawberry sandwiches are official RYA-approved sailing food, but they certainly have the advantage of being quick, cheerful and unlikely to require complex cooking in a galley where every movement involves negotiating with someone else’s elbow.
Tadek, our instructor, then announced that our first lesson of the day would be lassoing a rope around a large bollard.
This is one of those skills that sounds extremely easy until you actually try to do it from a moving boat, while holding a line, judging distance, keeping your balance, and trying not to look like someone attempting to catch a reluctant cow at a village fête.
We all took turns practising throwing a loop of rope over the large bollard.
The key instruction was simple but surprisingly important: let go with both hands, but still keep hold of the rope.
That sounds contradictory until you try it. If you cling to the coil too tightly, the loop collapses and lands in an embarrassed heap. If you release everything completely, the rope sails off and you have invented a new and useless sport called “donating rope to harbour furniture”.
The trick is to throw the loop confidently, open your hands at the right moment, and allow the rope to fly while still controlling the standing end.
When it worked, it felt wonderfully professional. When it didn’t, it looked like I had attacked the bollard with a plate of spaghetti.
Fortunately, this was all being filmed, which means future generations may be able to study both the correct technique and my contribution to maritime slapstick.
As we sailed out of the harbour, we talked about why Papaya had moved during the night.
This was a proper real-world sailing lesson. Not something from a textbook, but something that had actually happened to a boat we knew, with people we were sailing alongside.
The anchor alarm had gone off because the catamaran had moved closer to shore as the wind shifted. In daylight, this is inconvenient. At night, it can become serious very quickly.
It made the theory very clear:
An anchor does not fix a boat in one exact position.
The boat swings around the anchor depending on wind and current.
A change in wind direction can completely alter your position.
An anchor alarm is not an optional luxury; it is a very sensible bit of electronic nagging.
If in doubt, move before the situation becomes more exciting than planned.
We radioed Papaya to arrange the day, which also gave us more practice with proper radio procedure. I rather enjoy the radio, partly because it feels official, and partly because it gives you the illusion that you are in charge of something.
We sailed to a cove where Sailing Fair Isle were already moored. Also anchored nearby were a trimaran and a large sailing boat, giving the bay that lovely Mediterranean look where every boat appears to be casually arranged for a holiday brochure.
We anchored and continued talking to Papaya over the radio. Steve and Barry then came over to us in the dinghy.
There is something very cheerful about people arriving by dinghy. It is not quite like someone knocking on your front door. It is more like your neighbours turning up in a floating wheelbarrow.
Tadek went across to the catamaran to sort out a water problem and turn on the water maker. One of the joys of sailing is discovering that boats are not just vehicles. They are floating collections of systems, pipes, pumps, batteries, switches and mysteries. Some of those mysteries are solved by instructors. Others are solved by turning things off and on again, which appears to be a universal law applying equally to computers, boats and occasionally students.
When Tadek returned, we weighed anchor and moved on to the next lesson.
