Entries tagged "contessa 32"
I was interviewed by Susan Gray on behalf of the Ramblers yesterday. We chatted over tea, blasts of icy December air and then some more tea. Did you know that the amount of tea walkers drink is inversely-proportional to the number of days we are from the winter solstice?
We only went for a short walk, it was more of an indoor interview than a walking one, but we were outdoors just long enough to appreciate the difference a couple of hundred feet of altitude can make. In the valleys it was far from balmy, but it…
Just back from a bracing and invigorating couple of days on the water. My wife and I sailed from Chichester to Cowes, where we met up with the Contessa 32 Association's Christmas Rally.
The sail back today allowed us to revel in one of those winter days that make the others more bearable. Barely a cloud in the sky, Force 3 or 4 sailing all the way.
Here is a riddle for nautical navigators:
At about lunchtime today I took this photo from our yacht. What is slightly strange about this picture?
As usual answers…
After many woeful noises in the news about snow in the north, it finally hit us properly in the South Downs last night. More of a faint thud than a bang, as cakes of snow slid off the roof and hit the ground. Most of the snow in this picture fell last night.We live off a road that becomes totally impassable very quickly: no ploughing, salt or grit has been seen in these parts! All journeys will be on foot for a couple of days I suspect.Fortunately I managed to get out to my Contessa 32 yesterday and turn a…
A weekend of sailing has just passed, one that was full of meteorological kindness.
Nature was generous in two ways over the weekend - perhaps as a reward for my having set up a page of weather lore?
Firstly, blue skies, fair winds and warm sun ruled over the Solent. Secondly, an approaching warm front signalled its intent, in line with meteorological science and common folklore, by sending a team of mares' tails ahead. These cirrus clouds would be followed by cirrostratus, altostratus and then the rain-bearing nimbostratus. A show was being promised, and then put…
I had hoped to sail to the Isle of Wight on Saturday with some old friends. We slipped Chichester marina at eight in the morning in my Contessa 32, fully aware that the forecast was a bit spicy. The sense of foreboding increased slightly when the Chichester marina lock-keeper called down to me, 'Have you seen the forecast?' I said 'Yes. Force 6 gusting 9.' He replied, 'OK, well when the lock gates open you will need to gun the engine full throttle and hold your line otherwise you will be blown straight onto the piles.' I thanked…
The Gooleys were out on the water this morning on our Contessa 32, Golden Eye. It was one of those spring days that exceeded expectations. It felt like a summer holiday as we moored back up at Chichester Marina and walked to the Spinnaker Cafe for lunch. The beach feeling was completed when my younger son picked up a fistful of sand from the cafe sandpit and, before I could intervene, sprinkled it all over a plate of scampi.The photo is of a fellow Contessa 32 anchored off the beach at East Head, enjoying the rays.
Last night I was fortunate enough to be invited aboard HMS Warrior to give the after dinner speech to the Contessa 32 Association End of Season Rally. It was a fun evening that had at its heart some the best British maritime traditions. HMS Warrior was an extraordinary feat of engineering and, ironically, peacemaking. At the other end of the scale the Contessa 32 is steadily going about securing its own small place in our nautical heritage also.
Early this evening Mrs G and I escaped for a quick wander aboard Golden Eye, my Contessa 32, in Chichester Harbour. One of the lovely things about the harbour is that when time is short or wind is in short supply it is possible to enjoy a potter on the water that is more akin to a gentle river cruise than a sail.The 20hp diesel pushed us gently west into a low sun. A moon that was a day off first quarter hung to our left and the line down its midriff, the line between light and dark, pointed neatly…