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.
Wardley Marine Yacht Club sailors Malcolm and Simon collect the cup for the first sail over to Piel this year!
The barometer was high on this cold February Sunday morning, stopping the tide from reaching its predicted height. Come high water (11.15), Jamila was still aground in the mud. But, with her engine shuddering at full-speed astern in a pool of gurgling and bubbling water, her twin keels were begrudgingly dragged from her underwater shackles, free to go where ever she wanted. Out on the river Wyre, a significant search was taking place using helicopters and high-speed RIBs. Over the preceding week, TV news reports had beamed to the public at large an image of a woman with an attractive smile who had gone missing on the river near the upstream village of St. Michael. She had been missing for some time, and social media speculation on what might have happened was rife. Noticeably more walkers than ever could be seen treading the footpaths on both sides of the river, looking this way and that way but in particular onto the water. So, with a sense of morbid excitement, the two crew set off down the Wyre en route to Piel Island. The sea state was calm but allied with a strong outgoing tide and the iron donkey chattering down below; Jamila made her way at a steady five knots towards the mouth of the river.
Eventually, we arrived at Piel and looked for a mooring. We thought, “Why mess about with buoys and rope when there are plenty of muddy places to park?” So Jamila was put aground onto a patch of soft mud and left high and dry by the ebbing tide. The crew decided not to descend the ladder but would rather drink tea and do social media with a second-to-none maritime scene all around. The skipper, however, descended the ladder and climbed the glistening bank onto dry land for a round-the-island walk. As seen in the photo above, the precaution to drop the anchor was not taken. The skipper calculated that there was plenty of time to tour the island and be reunited with the boat before the incoming tide returned. And once back, Jamila would eventually float again, and the little wind that was would gently blow Jamila towards at least one of the vacant buoys out yonder.We did not think the Ship Inn would be open, and it wasn’t. As it happened, the new King of Piel Arran and islanders Don & Sharron had been doing a spot of painting. All evidence of labour was just and so tidied up when I arrived, but we all found time for a chinwag and a beer or two. It was a very nice but short stay, and once back on the boat, Jamila’s stove was stoked with charcoal, and the tilly and brass oil lamps were lit for the night. We spent the evening on board, with temperatures just above freezing outside but thanks to old-fashioned technology, inside the cabin it remained cosy and dry. It went dark around four thirty in the afternoon, as it was, after all, February, and the returning tide started lapping around the hull at around eight O’clock. Soon Jamila was drifting out towards the deserted buoys in the dark, and with a little prod from the engine, the crew went forward and took one. Safely tied up, we enjoyed a hash of tinned beef and baked beans, elevated from dullness with lots of finely chopped onion, sultanas, and Lee & Perins. A good bottle of Australian wine was found in the bilges to help all this goodness down the hatches. And it did not stop there, later in the evening, a bottle of whisky was produced and was enjoyed whilst looking up at a magnificent star-lit sky. Very soon the conversation turned to putting the world to rights, as so often it does on nights like this. As the evening unfolded, the uneasy excitement of earlier in the day gently transformed into a blissful calm. Eventually, an overwhelming feeling of tiredness, and the thought of an early start, got the better of us. We topped up the stove with fuel, blew out the lamps, and snugged up into our awaiting sleeping bags. With no time lost, Jamila’s two Lancashire lads fell into a sound sleep. But nothing lasts forever. After three hours or so, this was interrupted by an errant swell coming in with the high tide over Mort Bank, bumping the boat and jiggling a loose anchor up forward. The crew sat it out lying in their cots, and soon enough, the tide started its six-hour-long ebb, and all went quiet once again.
All too soon, it was four-thirty on Monday morning with the alarm ringing. We pulled ourselves into action with just a cup of tea and yoghurt, and departed thirty minutes later into a sea illuminated by a moonlit sky. Sunrise came around at about seven-thirty; see the photo above. Bacon, baked beans and crusty thick brown bread and butter were eaten on the move whilst crossing Mort Bank. All progress was made under engine as there was little wind, and handling the cold ropes and sails would have been hard on the hands. Feeling a bit soft and vulnerable vis-a-vis the elements at this time of the year, we maintained the stove and tilly lamp stoked with fuel, which served well on the voyage back, where crew and skipper could take turns in the cabin keeping warming.
Tilly Lamp
We duly arrived at Knott End-on-Sea and picked up a buoy near the golf course at 8:30 am. High tide was predicted at 11.30, thus a two-hour wait imposed by mother nature before going up the river. All went nicely whilst navigating the last of the flood tide. After entering Wardley’screek, the skipper positioned Jamila perfectly by the jetty and was duly complemented by the crew. In fact, it was the mud that should take the glory, for it was the mud that stopped the boat perfectly on station, so that the ropes could be tied easily and at our leisure. As soon as the docking chores were completed, the crew took off rather too quickly, but a little later, the skipper was pleasantly surprised by a deliciously served luncheon of clubhouse-cooked cheese-on-toast. Capital stuff!
In conclusion, we both had a jolly good time sailing to Piel Island and back, stayed warm and dry, met up with some pals, fed well, drank some wine and ale, and had no mishaps along the way. Job done I’d say!
A friendly base for Yacht Cruising on Morecambe Bay
