The cruising mindset I totally understand; the challenge of a passage made entirely in partnership with boat, tides, weather and your own skill satisfies the explorer in us all. It’s a shame the word ‘cruising’ has negative meanings to non-sailors – I’m not sure I dare add it to the list of tag words when I post this blog and recent events will no doubt cast a shadow over ‘cruising’ as in ‘holiday on an oversized floating shopping mall’. But to small boat sailors, cruising will always be the grand adventure even if it’s a jolly in fine weather round to the next bay.

The analogy of life as a voyage is universal and somehow reassuring; even those who have never set eyes on the sea will talk of going through stormy times, being taken aback, told not to rock the boat and advised to make a change of tack. I’ve just finished reading Jonathan Raban’s ‘Passage to Juneau’, a book that satisfies on many levels.  I won’t describe it, just recommend it, but Raban is the ultimate thinking man’s cruiser – if you haven’t read his book ‘Coasting’, add that to the list.

Racing, now – that’s the spirit of adventure taking a different turn. I was lucky enough to meet Val Howells recently, at a talk he was giving locally. Val is now the only surviving competitor from the five entries in the original OSTAR in 1960; the very first single handed transatlantic race arising from a challenge laid down by the great Blondie Haslar.  This was a race driven by the need to challenge the unknown, though it sowed the seeds for the multi-sponsored professionally skippered offshore races of today.  Haslar’s challenge was answered by a few kindred spirits, but only four others made it to the start line for that first race.  The establishment – particularly the yachting establishment – was deeply disapproving. Single handed sailing, by its nature, disobeys the most important rule in the collision regulations, keeping a good lookout at all times. To attempt such a race, said the experts, would end in disaster and bring the sport into disrepute.

Haslar and his fellow competitors, Francis Chichester, David Lewis, Val Howells and Frenchman Jean Lacombe, who set off after the start, were not the type of men to be swayed by public opinion.  Small boats, big men. Literally and figuratively – and at over six foot, it is mind boggling that Howells undertook the race in a 25′ folkboat – he must have had to fold himself in half to get into the cabin.  Haslar’s boat Jester was a folkboat too, modified to junk rig; the biggest boat in the fleet was Chichester’s 40′ Gipsy Moth.  No handicap system was applied to the race so to some extent it was not about beating each other, it was about completing the challenge which, being the men they were, they all did – most of them coming back for more in subsequent races.

As a committed wimp who finds sailing up a muddy creek excitement enough, I am always fascinated to read tales from the more intrepid end of the seafaring spectrum. So reading Val Howell’s book ‘Sailing into Solitude’ is something to look forward to by the fire on a cold January night…. with a glass of wine in hand of course, because armchair sailors never get seasick.

Novice sailors…… yes, that is me with the silly hat on.  Skipper John Watts thought the pipe would make him look more properly salty.

After surviving a few gale-blighted holidays we considered ourselves proper sailors and visited the London Boat Show each year to choose our charter yacht for the holiday to come. The game was to march up to a boat we liked the look of and pretend to be buyers, which fooled the bored salesmen not a bit but gave us immense pleasure. One year we looked over a bilge keel Moody 33 and decided that would be our boat of choice for the next holiday – a choice that backfired when taking the ground against the harbour wall in St Mary’s, Scilly Isles. The boat show model may have been twin keeled, but our charter boat was fin, a difference we discovered when the tide went out and the boat fell over.

Thirty years on and the London Boat Show continues, now in the echoing aisles of Excel, a shadow of the former bustle of Earls Court where the packed chandlery section resembled a Moroccan souk with wellies.  I don’t think you can blame the economy for the decline – sailors still sail, recession or no, especially at the cheap and muddy end of the boating business. I think the internet is partly to blame for the decline, as you no longer have to go in person to a show to buy your discount deckies and the latest gadget for picking up a tricky mooring. You can now do all that online, along with chatting to other like minded souls about whether the latest Mudhopper really can be towed behind a Fiat Panda and whether a Moody 33 sometimes has a fin keel instead of twin.

My son James and I visited the show on its opening day last week.  The main bustle was around the bookshops like the wonderful Kelvin Hughes, where it’s always good to catch up with salty authors Sam Llewellyn and Tom Cunliffe amongst others, and of course there was also a bit of a party going on amongst the wooden varnished boats on the Classic Boat stand.

I did spend money – not on cheap deck shoes or a nifty boat hook, but on a giant blue bean bag.  Not an item to be found on many, or indeed any, boats, but just the job for James’ chair-less room at university.  There was no difficulty carrying it to the hotel, which was across the road from Excel (yes, we really did get a cheap laterooms booking just before coming down – another sign of the times).  The problem began when both of us, along with bean bag, tried to get into the small hotel lift. The lift doors were closing as I shoved and James pulled, but we made it in the end.  I seem to remember that one year ‘The Big Blue’ was the theme for the show, but I don’t think it was bean bags the organisers had in mind!

The beanbag was from www.bigboy.com by the way – very comfortable it is too!

It’s a skill that gets better with practice. By the time I’d learned how to say ‘shoo’ more robustly to send the flock packing to the other side of the field before attempting the final gate, they’d been moved to a different field and I could bounce my Fiat punto down the muddy track with only one gate to open before finding the tarmac.

There is a connection between the sheep and my disgraceful lapse of blog posts.  The boat show was three months ago, but life got in the way since then and I decided that peace and quiet in a remote cottage would be a good place to recover from a series of personal and health setbacks. Internet access here is not part of the fabric of life but an occasional luxury – and surprisingly, the sky doesn’t fall in if you don’t check your emails every five minutes. When I first arrived, I put on wellies, picked up laptop and dongle and headed into the nearest field where I was told there was sometimes a signal. The sheep came over to find out what was going on as I waved the laptop around to no avail.

I still go into the fields every day, but only to get some fresh air accompanied by the farm’s sheepdog, who finds retrieving balls far more to her taste than herding sheep. I wish I could say that not being distracted by the internet has led to a surge of creative inspiration, but it’s one of those times when I feel about as creative as a brick. I think everyone has their own journey through the wilderness at some stage in life, and you just have to believe that you won’t be lost for ever and it will all come trickling back in its own good time.

In the meantime, I’m quietly getting on with ‘Go Windsurfing’, working my way slowly through my scribbled notes and trying to get the hang of drawing people in wetsuits. Life would be dull if it always went to plan, and when things go wrong you just have to keep faith in yourself.

I’m just grateful not to be a sheep.

The first sight to greet you as you walk through the doors is, reassuringly, a small wooden gaff cutter, on show from a traditional boatyard in the Orkneys.

It’s in good company; a delightful selection of small boats and their builders remind us that the smaller the boat, the bigger the fun (and the less the expense!).

Here’s Roger Wilkinson who builds the beautiful Kittiwake Boats (http://www.kittiwakeboats.co.uk/).  There’s  not much Roger doesn’t know about having maximum fun on the water in small boats.  Ask his dog.

Then there’s Swallow Boats from West Wales, run by Nick and Matt Newland, who know how to combine traditional looks with modern technology for a very distinctive look.

Now let’s move indoors to the wonderful nautical bookseller Kelvin Hughes who sell every salty book you could possibly think of (including all of mine), and many you never thought existed.  Their staff are lovely, knowledgeable people who know exactly how much gin and tonic an author needs during a book signing session.  Here’s Sam Llewellyn, thriller writer, yachting columnist and editor of the illustrious marine quarterly… (www.samllewellyn.com)

Rachel and Paul Chandler hit the headlines when they were kidnapped by Somali pirates and held for over a year.  Now grateful to be home again with their boat returned, they were signing copies of their book ‘Hostage’, and fascinating to chat to.

On the trail of interesting people, quadriplegic yachtsman and all round get-things-done chap Geoff Holt has come up with a practical and fast powerboat for wheelchair users….

The boat is called ‘Wetwheels’ and you can find out more on Geoff’s website http://geoffholt.com/2011/05/project-wetwheels/

And finally…. because it’s been a long day today with another long day tomorrow….  the lovely Brixham trawler ‘Leader’ was at the show at the weekend.

The last time I was on board ‘Leader’ was in the Western Isles, umpteen years ago, starry eyed and more than a little drunk on whiskey.  These days ‘Leader’ is doing a fantastic job taking disadvantaged children sailing, and needs all the support she can get.  You don’t have to be a hoodie to have a go – she hosts charter parties for grown ups to.  Find out more on http://www.trinitysailingtrust.org/.

‘Nuff whingeing – the unwritten rule of blogs is that they be the shiny tip of the iceberg of life.  There was more to August than gloom and ironing (no, I’m not houseproud, but most of our lovely holiday guests were only with us for a day or two).  August bank holiday found me joyfully abandoning an Everest of ironing and heading north to Holyhead Festival of Traditional Sail, a delightful and sociable event full of unusual boats, interesting people, pirates and hussars, knot tyers and kippers.   There may also have been a glass or two of wine.  I was there for several reasons – firstly as a roving reporter for Classic Boat magazine (so you’ll be able to read a full report in December’s issue, all being well).  Secondly, I was selling my books and bits in Trinity Court alongside the other marine craftsmen and last but not least, I was there to catch up with old friends, make new ones and be around my favourite things, boats.

If you want to know anything at all about ropes and knots, Des Pawson MBE is your man.  He spent a busy weekend introducing children to the simple but ingenious ropewalk, so they all had a piece of rope to take home that they’d made themselves.  Des and Liz’s website is http://www.despawson.com/ if you’re interested in all things knotty.

It’s good to see youngsters included in the festival in so many ways.  Pupils from the local primary school who entered a poster competition were invited on board brigantine Zebu and were slightly bemused to receive their prizes from a well known pirate…..

You can see Blackbeard was fascinated by me blathering on about marine conservation as I presented a copy of Go Green to the school headmistress for their library.

Finally, here’s the lovely Scott Metcalfe, shipwright and artist, on his even lovelier schooner Vilma.  Scott is delighted that I’m featuring Vilma in one of my children’s adventure stories, and already has visions of his boat being chartered for the feature film.  Move over, Pirates of the Caribbean…… such faith, Scott. Given that the book is still a mad jumble of scribbled notes and false starts in a large folder called Treasure Island, he might have to wait some time.

Moving rapidly on…….. from old boats to new.  September is all about Southampton Boat Show, which is why we’re now drowning in boxes of stuff and lists of things to do, as well as laundry.  One thing on my list was ‘update blog’ – oh good, nearly done, but not quite.  Next on the list is ‘plan Children’s Log Book Launch’…..

Children’s Log Book Launch

The original Log Book for Children finally sold out earlier this year, so we decided to give it a thorough refit as well as a reprint. In consultation with the Cruising Department of the RYA, we’ve tweaked a few things and added more pages.  Better still, we now know a lot more about publishing than we did in 2004, so we’ve been able to get the price down a bit by doing the binding ourselves.  It means that Perry is spending this week in the workshop listening to Radio 2 and drinking rather a lot of coffee with a binding machine that squeaks every time you pull the handle, but the pile of books is growing.

If you’re at Southampton Boat Show on the first Saturday, 17th September at 3pm, come along to Starfish Books stand J040 in Mayflower Hall (opposite Kelvin Hughes) where we’ll be popping a cork or two to launch the new edition.  Any excuse!

Authors Live

Here’s another thing on my list – I’m booked to do a 20 minute slot on the stage at the boat show as part of the Authors Live event. This is on Tuesday 20th at 3.15, so come along and be rent-a-mob if you need a sit down inbetween buying deck shoes and widgets.  I’ve promised to be entertaining and talk about my books, and my family have promised to unplug the mike if I try and sing any sea shanties.  Not sure what I’m going to say yet, but will make sure there are plenty of cartoon images on the screen in case of boredom.  Nothing like a informed lecture from a sailing expert, is there?  Nothing like, indeed!  If you want to see the full programme of events, have a look at http://goo.gl/wlwqU .

Arthur Ransome owned many boats in his time, and Peter Duck was probably his least favourite.  She was commissioned in his later years as a sort of ‘marine bath chair’.  A sturdy ketch with a modest sail plan, she makes up in sea keeping qualities what she lacks in performance.  Her current custodian, Julia Jones, spent her childhood years sailing Peter Duck with her parents, who bought her from Ransome. Julia slept in the bunk where Ransome used to stow his typewriter, so it is unsurprising that books have always been a part of her life.  After a career in publishing, Julia was the right person in the right place for the spirit of Swallows and Amazons to find a 21st century voice.  The result is a novel for children (and adults) called The Salt Stained Book, part one of a trilogy.  It’s an edgy, 21st century tale with sailing adventure at its core and I thoroughly enjoyed being commissioned to provide the cover painting and a sprinkling of sketchy illustrations for the end of each chapter.

There’s more about the book and the excellent reviews it’s received on Julia’s own site http://golden-duck.co.uk/news/category/julia-reviews-and-articles.

Meanwhile, back on the river Orwell, I was looking forward to my first read of the Ravelled Flag, part two of the trilogy.  Although the book is still in draft stage, Julia needs to start thinking of cover design and images for each chapter.  (Not usually the author’s decision, I know, but Julia was advised to publish through her own publishing company, Golden Duck).  Reading through the absorbing tale while the evening breeze rocked Arthur Ransome’s boat, it felt humbling and satisfying to be in the same place but a different time as the source of some of the most influential children’s stories ever written; a feeling that perhaps our ability to reach into the future is dependent upon having deep and strong roots in the past.

Lying alone on a river in a warmly varnished cabin inspires introspection. The red wine probably helped.  The next morning skipper Julia arrived, along with others for the annual gathering of the Nancy Blackett Trust.  If you’re a Ransome fan and would love to sail on the boat that inspired ‘We Didn’t Mean To Go To Sea’, then hop straight over to http://nancyblackett.org/ without further ado – but don’t forget to hop back again as I haven’t finished yet.  A good time was had by all, while Nancy sailed on the river in company with the newly refurbished Swallow, the dinghy that featured in the film version of ‘Swallows and Amazons’.

Swallow wasn’t the only film veteran there – Sophie Neville, who starred in the original ‘Swallows and Amazons’ film was getting reacquainted with the boat she first sailed on camera at the age of 12!  More about Sophie’s exploits on http://sophieneville.net/.

That night, after a convivial evening that may have involved a glass or two of wine over supper, there were four of us sleeping in Peter Duck’s small cabin.  Modern boats focus on comfort and caravan style cabin space, so they usually have a loo neatly built into a cupboard somewhere between foc’sle and saloon.  Peter Duck was built in an earlier time, when boatbuilders were rather more focussed on how a vessel would cope with heavy weather than whether her crew would be able to relieve themselves standing up.  There is indeed a loo on PD, but it’s wedged down by the foc’sle bunk.  With each bunk occupied, there was no question of using it in the night; we were given the combination code for the on-shore facilities before turning in.

You know that time around 4.30am when you wake up regretting the amount of fluid you’ve consumed the night before?  You roll over to try and get back to sleep, but your bladder won’t let you.  At home this is not a problem, but the prospect of a chilly dawn walk up a pontoon in your pyjamas is not inviting.  After repeated attempts to ignore the signals I gave in to the inevitable, trying to find shoes and a fleecy top without waking the others. It was light, but there was no-one around which is just as well as I defy anyone to look their best at 5am wearing only pink panther pyjamas, deck shoes and a fleecy top. Luckily I knew the numbers for the keypad on the ladies. Or did I?  Several attempts later, the door still bleeped at me and refused to open. I crossed my legs and had a think. Was it 1351? Or 1531 perhaps? I struggle with numbers and find remembering my PIN rather stressful. Abandoning the door, I headed for the woods.  Rabbits gazed incuriously at me as I crouched in the long grass – I just hoped there were no insomniac dog walkers around.  Mission accomplished, I tiptoed back into the cabin and into my sleeping bag, wide awake.

The pre-dawn calm gave way to a blustery morning and unhelpful shipping forecast – west or northwest 5-7.  Not ideal for Peter Duck’s return passage to Woodbridge, but we thought we’d give it a go.  The wind started to show its temper as we came to the entrance of Harwich harbour, and even with her small sail area, the boat was overpressed.  We took a reef in the main before hitting the lumpy swell outside the harbour and were glad of it as we rolled up the Suffolk coast then headed inshore again for the entrance to the Deben.  Peter Duck was sailing at her best, well balanced and easy on the tiller even in the gusts.

I think that’s the first time I’ve really enjoyed a strong wind passage whilst I was in it, rather than in a kind of  ’that was scary and seasick but I feel great now it’s over’ kind of way.  There’s a lot to be said for a marine bath chair in a blow.

I was doing all this watery wobbling on the island of Lesvos in Greece, courtesy of Nielson’s holidays. My mission – to learn enough about windsurfing and the methods of teaching it to spend the next nine months or so writing and illustrating the beginner’s guide for youngsters.

Not being a sporty type, I was a bit worried about whether I’d be able to keep up.  The resort offers a packed programme of activities every day including mountain biking, jogging, waterskiing, wakeboarding, yoga, keep fit, swimming, kayaking, sailing, windsurfing and volleyball.  If that makes you exhausted just thinking about it, there’s always the unofficial programme which includes sitting by the pool, watching Wimbledon in the hotel foyer, twiddling with laptops and iphones in the wifi zone, choosing cocktails, eating vast quantities of delicious food every mealtime and sitting on the veranda with a book and a glass of wine.  I had to stay fairly focussed, with windsurfing in the morning, working on notes and sketches in the afternoon, rounding off the day with a swim in the sea or pottering around in dinghy or kayak.

Instructor Rupert showing us all how to gybe; nifty footwork and flicking the sail around the front of the board is the key. Doing it on moving water? Now, that’s another story!

Oops.  One down, all down.  No, of course there aren’t any photos of me making a fool of myself – for this shot I was safely in a kayak, camera at the ready, trying and failing to photograph people at the exact moment of falling in.  There are times when research is very enjoyable!

I’ll just have to imagine what someone looks like at the moment of falling in. Something like this I guess.

Now the fun part is over and the hard work begins.  I have to work the alchemy that every writer and illustrator is familiar with – challenging the empty page with rough scribbles, both verbal and visual, then working them up into a polished series of pages that not only informs but delights the reader.

Here’s the raw material.  Very raw.  Well, I’ve never drawn windsurfers before and they kept moving around.

After each lesson, I spent time analysing what we’d been taught and breaking it down into simple stages.  You see, all good drawings start as bad ones!  And I’m not afraid to admit to starting with stick figures when I need to.

How-to books can be very dry and dull.  The joy of writing for children is that I have licence to add jokes, and explain everything in a fun, colloquial way. And if adults find it useful too, it just goes to show that we’re all children at heart!

It’s shameful, I know, to be wasting food at all and most of the time it’s not that chaotic.  But there are so many more interesting things to do in life than clear out the fridge – like attending a watercolour workshop on tuesday with Elizabeth Haines, who has an inspirational studio in the Preseli hills and a profound understanding of how art works (http://www.elizabethhaines.co.uk/). She is particularly good at getting students to try new ways of working, experiment and see where the painting wants to go.  I had a thoroughly enjoyable day, playing with paint in ways that I don’t often let myself do at home when I’m focussing on drawing or painting whatever pays the bills.

It’s good to take the pressure off sometimes and lay paint on the page without any pre-thought about how it’s going to end up.  It’s very freeing, and nothing you do is ever wasted; everything experimental feeds the creative furnace which is often in danger of spluttering to a halt.

I often tell my students that if you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you always got.  Sometimes it’s good to take my own advice!

So what else has conspired to turn my fridge into bacteria heaven?  We’ve also been exhibiting at Beale Park Boat Show, an annual event in Pangbourne, on a lake by the river Thames.  It’s a small, friendly show, a celebration of the quirky and enthusiastic small boat scene with a refreshing absence of flashiness, big budget boats and pretentiousness. You’ll find everything from the home made and unlikely (a paddle wheel canoe, for example) to highly polished and professional boatbuilders like Henwood and Dean (http://www.henwoodanddean.co.uk/#).  The first two days were great; the third rained and rained, and then rained some more.  We all packed up early; it’s slightly surreal struggling to dismantle a sodden marquee in the driving rain while a steel band plays ‘Island in the Sun’ at high volume and with no trace of irony.

Beale Park Boat Show is over for another year, but life is still a bit hectic – I’m off to Greece on friday to spend a week falling in the water. It’s work, honest. I was expecting the call at some stage, as I’ve been asked to write RYA Go Windsurfing and having made my feelings on the subject of falling into chilly UK water very plain, Neilson holidays have stepped in and are sending me to one of their beach activity centres to go through the beginner’s syllabus and find out everything I need to know to write the book. Given that my last research trip was three days in the rain on a canal in the Midlands, perhaps my career is looking up after all!

Do you think I’d better clean the fridge before I go?

Then there was the time one summer when we had a houseful, including some good friends visiting from Essex.  My friends (you know who you are!) were worried about sleeping in beds that could be earning us money, so when a posh car pulled up in the drive and a well dressed couple knocked on the door asking for a room, they didn’t want me to turn the business down.   The guests had been told we were full and were just stepping back into their car when my friends ran past me shrieking,  ”It’s ok, please stay! Have my room!  I’ll sleep on the sofa!”  That was the first and probably the last time we have ever had a BMW in our drive, and it made a very fast exit.

Over the years, the guests we liked have far outnumbered the guests we didn’t like, but given that social instincts are usually wired to sniff out kindred spirits with similar views to your own,  it’s good to be made to deal with a wide mix of people. You learn to listen, avoid making judgements, celebrate diversity and reinforce your belief that with a few exceptions people are a) basically decent and b) have a story to tell.

The days of drive-by b&b guests are long gone now; everyone books online, and most prefer our self contained bungalow, which is better – more space for them and fewer breakfasts to cook.  It’s hard work doing one and two nighters, but that’s usually what people want.  Adapt and survive…..

A spacious room with character and plenty of fresh air……. no, seriously that’s the castle down the road – every village in Wales has one.  The holiday let looks like this….

Most business comes our way via the excellent Laterooms.com (we’re in as Ty Bach, near Narberth), but some direct via www.tegfanhouse.co.uk  It does mean that I spend too much time at the ironing board and not enough time at keyboard or drawing board, but that’s life.  We’ve spent the morning clearing up after five cheerful young Welsh lads on a bit of wedding spree (how many empties???), so it’s not all fun, but spilt beer mops up from laminated flooring quickly enough and it’s all part of life’s rich something or other.

If you want somewhere peaceful to be creative, Pembrokeshire’s a good place – bring your sketch book and/or writing book and we’ll promise to try and avoid the Fawlty Towers moments.

And on the plus side, if I want to learn to write stories, there’s a wealth of material right under my nose.  This is a potential opening line for a story about smugglers and shipwrecks…

“Anna had the feeling it was going to be one of those days when Mrs Henderson came into the kitchen holding up a pair of pink knickers”……..

“I wish they’d hurry up and invent gps…..”

What is not so well known is the story of how Columbus’ famous flagship piled up onto a reef.

Whilst spending time exploring Cuba and Hispaniola (now Haiti) and trying to find signs of wealthy civilisation, Columbus had to do a lot of socialising. All the locals wanted to have a look over the strange ship and Columbus, in the name of PR and possible future wealth, was happy to oblige, especially if they came bearing gifts of gold. When the Santa Maria finally set sail from Hispaniola everyone was exhausted from days and nights of hectic entertaining. The wind was light and at nightfall Columbus went below for a well deserved nap, leaving Juan de la Cosa as officer of the watch.  Juan was the owner of the Santa Maria, but he was as exhausted as his Admiral and, lulled by the calm conditions, he nodded off in a corner of the deck. This left a small boy in sole charge, steering the course he’d been ordered to steer. He could see nothing from his position behind the wheel and had no way of knowing that the current was setting the ship onto a reef. It was a calm night so there would have been no warning before Columbus was awoken by the sound of coral ripping timber.  Attempts to lighten ship and pull her free of the reef failed, and the crew finally took to the boats and were rescued by the Nina.

As far as I know, the wreck was never found.  History prefers to dwell on Columbus’ successes rather than his failures, particularly the all too human error that lost him his ship.  You certainly can’t blame the ship’s boy who at a guess would have been about 10-12 years old, and I rather fancy the idea of rewriting the story from his point of view.  I’ll put that one on the list for my sea stories project.

Meanwhile, I have been drawing as well as reading, honest.  There have been a lot of black and white drawings coming off my drawing board recently, quite a few of them commissioned by Sam Llewellyn for his excellent new journal Marine Quarterly.  The first issue was out on 1st March  - have a look at www.themarinequarterly.com.  Described as ‘a rich and varied feast’, it just goes to show that reading about the sea is as enjoyable as sailing on it.  As well as being considerably drier!