It is that time of year again, dear members. The clocks have advanced, casting longer shadows as daylight stretches wide. In their fleeting splendour, the daffodils have danced upon the breeze and now, in retreat, remind us of nature’s inspiring beauty. As the weather whispers promises of warmth, we find ourselves at the start of another summer season, filled with promise and possibility.
In the enchanting enclave of our club, a vibrant array of yachts stirs to life, marking the arrival of a new season. This remarkable transformation is the result of tireless dedication from our club members. Fresh coats of antifouling glisten in the sunlight, while the beautifully oiled wooden gunwales ripple with elegance. The superstructures, expertly jet-washed, stand proudly in their renewed splendour. Above, innovative electronic aerial wind speed devices emerge from the mastheads, accompanied by the sturdy overhead stainless steel structures on cockpits, all contributing to this magnificent tapestry of club life (not to mention the chatter, ribaldry, cups of tea and bacon sandwiches). It is a sight to behold—a testament to the passion and commitment.
The annual general meeting is now firmly behind us, and I am pleased to report that it was a resounding success. All members agreed on the path and the election of club officers to navigate the way forward. I am delighted to announce, at least for the first time here on the website, that Terry Hindmarsh will take on the role of Commodore, a position of great responsibility as we look to the future. Let us also take a moment to extend our gratitude to our departing Commodore, Phil Walker, who has shown immense dedication and resilience, steering the club through tough times in recent years. Together, we stand ready to embrace the challenges ahead with renewed vigour and daring do.
I invite you to examine the following photos, vividly illustrating the tireless dedication invested in preparing the club for Crane-In. Additionally, some poignant images serve as a sobering reminder that, sometimes, good things come to an end.
Mud Creek sailing habitats, notably our esteemed Wardleys Marine Yacht Club, are not a gift from Mother Nature to the people of the Fylde Coast but instead a testament to the unwavering dedication and tireless efforts of a small group of passionate enthusiasts with high-pressure, high-maintenance petrol pump-powered hoses. (on this day: Johns B&G. Nick. M, Andy. S, Terry. S) Their commitment over many years has transformed this landscape, fostering a vibrant sailing community that thrives despite the challenges posed by the elements. Here, we are pumping out our No. 1 berth ready for the big day.Allow me to introduce you to John Gorse and John Bradbury, two exemplary club stalwarts. Whenever an initiative is underway, you can be assured that these distinguished individuals are at the forefront, playing a pivotal role in guiding our collective efforts toward a good outcome. Their unwavering commitment and capability truly embody the spirit of our club.And, behold our splendid new commodore, resplendent in all his mud creek finery, ready to roll up his sleeves and stuck into the delightful world of hosing out! Not only does he possess a commendable grasp of club affairs that would make any bureaucrat take note, but he’s also remarkably adept at wielding a high-pressure jet. Well done, Terry! Keep up the good work!Remember that beautiful Red Dragon we craned out late last year? Although she was undoubtedly a work of art, built entirely of wood with a mix of galvanised rigging wire and Tufnell era fittings, she was unfortunately too far gone to be resurrected. We couldn’t find a wealthy benefactor willing to do her justice. Nobody had the deep pockets and facilities necessary. We reached out to various organisations, including the Dragon Owners Association, but to no avail. In the end, she was cut up and given a Viking funeral of sorts, in the traditional WMYC way.It was an undeniably dismal undertaking, one that inspired little enthusiasm among even the most ardent heavy machinery aficionados. There are those among us who would gleefully brandish a big boy’s powerful rotary saw, relishing the chance to carve up a wooden boat with frightening fervour. Yet, on this occasion, the atmosphere was notably lacklustre. Deep down, we found ourselves in agreement: in her prime, she was the vessel we would most want to skipper, slicing through the chop of Morecambe Bay, under a taught white cloud of sail with a magnificent grandeur.. Ah, the dream of it!Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. RIP, lovely Red Dragon.
