admin Date , July 16, 2025 Sailing Previous Blog All-comers Comments (0)
It all began in eerie silence.
We were the first to arrive at the club, unlocking gates like a pair of salty keymasters. The mighty Whaly (our faithful camera/safety boat) was heaved onto the Thames path and trundled towards the slipway.
Just as we were wondering whether we’d be the only ones there, John appeared to help open the final gate, and slowly, the riverbank came to life.
Philip was first on the scene, raring to take a Zest out and practise his gybing. Alex and Nick were rigging up a Wayfarer. John had his eye on another Zest. And us? With the Whaly afloat and bobbing gently, we slipped into our role as safety crew. Philip, keen as mustard, launched first—and rather promptly, went for a swim. His first gybe in a slightly gusty patch turned into an impromptu capsize. A soggy thumbs-up reassured us he was fine, but the wind caught the sail and plastered it across the club pontoon. I leapt from the Whaly while John jumped in from the pontoon, and between us, we got the boat upright again in under a minute, Philip was ok and back in the boat. .
Then came the boom. Literally. It swung across and gave Philip a whack to the head via the mainsheet pulleys. A minor cut, a bit of blood, but Philip was undeterred—and astonishingly cheerful. We followed him closely in the safety boat as he regained his confidence, choosing (with some persuasion) to tack rather than gybe every time. Soon he was confidently zipping from bank to bank like a seasoned sailor. Meanwhile, Nick and Alex launched the Wayfarer—or tried to. Within moments, they were hauling it back out of the water. Why? Because it was rapidly becoming a submarine. Someone (who shall remain nameless) had forgotten the bung. Take two was far more successful, and soon they were gliding up and down the river like nothing had happened. John, sensibly, decided to join us in the Whaly rather than tempt fate with a third Zest.
The wind stayed steady and manageable, and everyone got in some solid practice. A new member, Peter, turned up to investigate what “Wednesdays on the Water” was all about and was soon swept up into the excitement—though I suspect he hadn’t anticipated quite so much drama on his first visit. Just as Peter was getting the lowdown on our river antics, Philip called it a day, and we motored over to help bring him and John’s Zests ashore. As I helped them retrieve their boats, Alex and Nick found themselves stranded on the opposite bank. Paul bravely set off solo in the Whaly to assist, but by the time he arrived, a heroic passerby had already rolled up his trousers, waded in up to his knees, and shoved the Wayfarer back into the stream. Unfortunately, Alex’s attempt at steering didn’t quite stick the landing, and the boat returned like a boomerang. So our riverside hero gave it another go—this time wetter but wiser—and successfully got them moving again.
As Wednesdays go, this one had it all: capsizes, collisions, forgotten bungs, minor injuries, heroic interventions, and an enthusiastic newcomer wondering what on Earth he’d signed up for. Peter, to his credit, mucked in with furling sails, tidying boats, and helping us lug the Whaly back across the railway line. Not bad for a quiet start.
