admin Date , July 24, 2025 Sailing Previous Blog Course Done whats Next Comments (0)
The third day of the RYA level 2, 4 Day Course - We had a another change of Instructor Rowan. He was tasked with improving our sailing over the next couple of days. As the day went on a large tree was coming down the river so Rowan stood guard over the tree until we could move it to the bank.
With Rowan guarding the tree and turning all boats away and around Paul and I practised what we had been taught about the telltails. The RYA 1 group were in Wayfarers and we went along to help supervise them to see if we could work out what they were doing wrong, until Mark told us to go way and not help them.
As part of our RYA Level 2 adventures, Paul and I were honoured — or possibly stitched up — by Mark, our ever-cheerful senior instructor, with a special assignment:
“You two can demonstrate a capsize recovery for the RYA Level 1 students.”
Easy, right?
Except we were in the RS Toura, a boat known for stability, comfort, and its unwillingness to actually capsize. It’s the sailing equivalent of trying to tip over a garden shed. But undeterred, Paul and I climbed onto the gunwale, leaned on the boom with all our combined weight and dignity, and after some determined wobbling... success! The Toura flipped, and in we went.
The water was refreshingly brisk, but not unbearable. Luckily, we knew what was coming and had dressed accordingly: trunks, buoyancy aids, and a confident attitude.
We swam round to the centreboard, eager to show off our technique. Paul, with his not-insignificant righting leverage, climbed on while I pulled on the grab handles. The boat... shrugged. Nothing happened. Not even a polite wobble.
Time for plan B.
I swam around and threw a jib sheet over the hull so Paul could get some better leverage. This helped — just enough to finally coax the Toura upright again. One point to us.
The Toura has a lovely low transom, so most of the water drained out. But now came the real test: getting back in.
Paul made the first attempt. He tugged. He kicked. He flailed. He achieved... nothing. I tried to help from the stern by creating a makeshift “seat” for him to climb onto. It looked vaguely supportive, but Paul still couldn’t haul himself aboard.
Plan C: reinforcements.
Enter Alex, our youthful and agile helper. He clambered aboard and — keen to prove himself — managed to capsize the boat again within moments. That makes two capsizes for the price of one. Bonus!
This time, the plan was to get Paul into the boat before righting it. Alex and I would handle the righting.
Theoretically.
I swam to the centreboard to climb up... but couldn’t. The boat is surprisingly tall when sideways in the water. The lower handle was too low, the top handle too slippery, and I’m pretty sure someone greased the hull just to make things interesting.
Alex tried next. Same result. Two of us clinging to the boat like stranded koalas, while Paul balanced dramatically on the gunwale like a figurehead in a low-budget sea epic.
Time for a new approach. I grabbed the upper handle and made a chair-shape with my arms. Alex clambered over me and successfully reached the centreboard. Huzzah! But his victory was short-lived. Being as light as a racing buoy, he didn’t budge the boat. He tried standing up — the boat started to right — then he lost his grip and slid elegantly (ish) back into the water.
Third time lucky.
Paul threw over the jib rope again, Alex climbed back onto the centreboard via my “human climbing frame”, and this time held firm. With a coordinated heave and a splash, the boat rolled upright, tossing Alex into the water and Paul triumphantly into the boat.
Alex followed. I, still entangled in half the boat’s ropes and with the grace of a seaweed-wrapped walrus, finally clambered in behind them.
Drenched, knackered, and full of new bruises, we swapped places with the safety boat passengers and let someone else have a go.
