Ega Association of Great Britain Letter from the Secretary Bird
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VAGB NEWSLETTER 29 Bugle - V1698 ega Association of Great Britain March 2001 Webpage - www.vagb.com Letter from the Secretary Bird Hello fellow Vega sailors and Friends, Sorry that the Newsletter is late, somehow the time has flown past, as I have been engrossed in making hoods, preparing endless paperwork for the AGM and helping to epoxy a fellow member's boat (ed. Oops, that was my Vega). Suddenly just when "Methuselah", my typewriter, chucked in the towel, the 29th Newsletter appeared over the horizon. No peace for the wicked. I am writing this in longhand so any spelling errors blame Steve's computer which he says can read longhand, correct spelling errors and change the whole thing into Times Roman. What a wondrous age we have these days. Since NL28 we have had the Happy Hour at the London Boat Show to brighten up the long winter nights. As usual it was well attended, 22 stalwart sailors popped into the RYA lounge to join VAGB's ever expanding table. Tim Moriarity, Vega Calypso, and a new member came to say hello as did Walther Nerving (VODA President), Cai Christainsen both from Denmark, Mike Newell from Italy. They came from The Orkneys to The Solent and everywhere in-between. Nineteen went on to Mrs Lamb's home to enjoy an excellent buffet and discuss Boat Show bargains, Sailing and the world. I had an unexpected invitation to a very late season cruise for a few days crewing for Graham Bulleid aboard his Vega "Scandi". It was cold, wet, bleak, foggy, rainy but very beautiful. Not surprising we hardly saw any other sailors but found we could get right up the River Stour to within one hundred metres of Mistley Pier before running aground at absolute Low Water Springs. The Lord Nelson Pub at Ipswich (where I had been last summer with Ross Dring, the American VAGB member who went to the Dutch IFR) was an unimaginable oasis. Its' roaring fire was a sight for sore eyes and bones as Graham and I squelched in from the rainstorm like a pair of drowned rats. Our sodden oilskins actually steamed as they dried over the backs of the chairs. An excellent menu, real ale and the dancing fire bade us stay... and we did 'til the fire died and the pub closed! Page 1 Vega Association of Great Britain Newsletter 29 The next day we headed for home via Wivenhoe, which turned out to be the jewel in the crown of our short winter cruise. After departing in windless, rainy and later foggy weather, we motored along the East Coast passing Frinton and Clacton, both looking very drab.. But as we approached the River Colne the sun appeared together with the wind and Scandi flew up the river under sail. The scenery was beautiful all the way to Wivenhoe which itself was a picture from the past. Thatched Cottages, Thames Barges, Bowlegs, olde worlde pubs and an artist painting on the bank. Time stood still for Wivenhoe but not for us as reluctantly we went about and headed for home. This short unexpected cruise in seemingly unfriendly conditions, as often happens, turned out to be one of the most enjoyable sorties up the East Coast secret rivers that I have ever experienced. Roll on summer, I want to visit Wivenhoe again! Well folks, that's all that has happened this winter. Not long before the clocks go back and spring is around the corner. Good Fitting-Out to you all.. Cheerio for the present, Diana Webb Bugle V1698 Welcome New Members Ron Davis Mike Saunders V1587 “WAKI” V1778 “CHLOE II” Chesapeake Bay, USA Weymouth Ian Macfarlane Dr Gerald Asbridge V1375 “ALBA” Vega in Norway Kip Marina, Scotland Warminster, Wilts. Arthur Moynihan David Schofield Looking for a Vega Looking for a Vega Dublin, Ireland Thornton Robert Smales Jim Gray V1034 “SITKA” V1022 “RUPERT Brough, Humber Edgar Marina, Scotland “Rupert” featured in Anne Millars book Stephen Patch “Out of the Blue” completed a double V1048 “SCAMANDER” Atlantic crossing in 1984 and returning Lochcarron, Scotland to the UK in 1986. Page 2 Vega Association of Great Britain Newsletter 29 Thoughts of Chairman Mike....... CONFESSIONS OF A BOAT OWNER That day in late October changed my life, I finally admitted my addiction and the effect it was having on my family and me. Up to that point I had always denied that I had a problem, you know the sort of thing, I can give it up any time I want to, I just do it to be sociable, etc. etc. I finally admitted that my actions were not those of any normal person, I finally admitted my addiction to boats and I am going up the library to find out if there is a local branch of BA (Boatowners Anonymous). If there is I shall join so that I can publicly admit my addiction and learn how to control it with fellow devotees. Perhaps I will get a buddy to ring when the urge becomes uncontrollable. Well at least it will give something to do in the winter with the boat ashore. I had planned to spend a couple of days down at the boat before she came ashore. I live in the middle of Buckinghamshire and my boat (a 27ft Albin Vega) lives at Walton on Naze in Essex. The trip involves a journey round the M25 and up the A12, a total of 127 miles in each direction, enough to make a grown commuter weep and not something any sensible pensioner should contemplate, especially when he could be watching 'Esther'. On the other hand a couple of days on the boat in the fresh air and a little sailing, how could anyone resist it, well I couldn't and didn't even try to fight the impulse. I then checked the tide tables and started to listen to the weather forecast, it was not good. Wet and windy and likely to stay that way. My heart sank. But wait if I look at this other forecast it says it might be better on Wednesday before closing in again on Thursday. So I'll go just for the day, what all that way for a few hours, it's not that bad a journey after all and I could get a few jobs done. The internal and eternal debate raged on but we all knew what the outcome would be. Tuesday night was as predicted lousy but at 7.00 am on Wednesday morning there was a glimmer of sunshine so after a hasty breakfast I was on my way. Aylesbury was full of cars going nowhere as usual. The Tring by-pass busy but although I was part of the traffic stream my mind was on better things, the sun was shining and I was going to get the fix I craved for. I didn't even mind the inevitable hold up between J27 and J28, I had Radio 4 to keep me informed of people worse off than myself. The trip up the A12 was relatively smooth; I was finally approaching Walton and my heart quickened. As you approach you can see across the saltings and Hamford Water to Felixstowe. It was nearly high water and the sun was glinting on the grey water. The masts of Titchmarsh Marina showed the way to heaven and a sense of peace descended on me. I called in to Hall's Yard to arrange for 'Jenavive' to be lifted out the following week. As I walked through the yard looking at the boats, old and new, some being worked on, some just standing looking for a bit of TLC, I could feel the 'fix' beginning to take effect. I parked the car at the Yacht Club and got the slightly crumpled and ancient inflatable out of the Page 3 Vega Association of Great Britain Newsletter 29 rack, rummaged in the boat store for the oars and the dinghy pump. Pumped the dinghy up, threw my gear in and rowed down the creek. As a real addict I get as much pleasure from rowing the half a mile plus to my boat as others would get from a continental cruise. A couple of boats were coming in on the flooding tide, I was the only dinghy out there. I soon reached 'Jenavive' and stowed my gear. The sky was beautifully clear with just some tiny bits of cotton wool round the horizon, the wind was quite fresh from the South West. I would have preferred to sail down toward Stone Point but I needed to run the engine to ensure the batteries were charged. Off we set, the engine running like clockwork and me standing at the helm, Breton cap at a jaunty angle, really believing I was 'Master under God' of all I surveyed. I soon left Stone Point behind but then began to worry about tides. I can only get ashore just before half tide and I needed to get back. So back we went to the mooring, the late lunch was well up to my usual awful standard. The tide was dropping fast so I secured the boat, jumped in the dinghy and rowed ashore. Minutes later I was on my return journey back down the A12 and the M25, if there were delays they didn't worry me I was at peace with the world. Three hours and 127 miles later I got home, thoroughly convinced that the 6 hours of driving had been worth the one and a half hours sailing.