Blow out

The forecast for yesterday that was available earlier in the week looked promising, warm, sunny and winds around 10 knots. After some back and forth on the Dinghy Cruising Australia facebook page, I said I would be going out, and invited anyone free to join me.

It felt like I had barely pressed the send button wwhen the forecast was revised up to 15 knots increasing.

I took the Mirror down, not withstanding. Jamie brought his down from Geelong. We rigged up in the shelter of the club house, then dragged the boats across the mud and soft and to the water. Jamie's boat tipped over twice getting it into the water, which might have been sufficient warning for wiser heads, but we set off, with a strong Northerly behind us. I gybed to get round the red stick, then looked back to see that Jamie was in strife. The wind had torn the cringle at the head of his sail out, his yard had jammed, and in the ensuing confusion another tear had split the belly of the main. I suspect the sail was well past its use by date, but he was now being blown off in the general direction of Port Arlington,  16 miles across the bay.

I tacked round, and came up on a broad reach to him, and managed to get a line across to him, and start towing him back to shore.

Amazing how much drag there is in an extra mirror hull. We made very slow progress on a tack back towards the safe harbor, and I tacked in towards shore earlier than I should have. On the new tack we were heading for shore but a long squelchy walk from where we left the trolleys, so I  decided to tack again, at which point things went distinctly pear shaped. The line somehow got caught under the centreboard of Jamie's boat, my Mirror refused to tack again thanks to the pressure on one side of the transome.In the ensuing confusion we dropped the line. I had towed Jamie to a point where he was now drifting onto the reef, barely covered at low tide. I had a clear vision of both our boats reduced to matchwood. The moral here is, I think, don't be a smart arse until you are right out of trouble.

After a few minutes of frenzied tacking, we managed to reconnect the tow line, and sadder but wiser, made landfall in the sea grass beds a few hundred metres from the clubhouse. We walked, towing the boats the final distance.

Oz was unimpressed. We copped a fair bit of water in boat so he was all wet, but he knew better than to jump out.

On the positive side, I felt ok with the conditions and the maneuvers required to attach the tow - the bom said it was gusting round 20 knots. On the other side of the ledger, I think I should have pulled the pin. Things could easily have not turned out so well. It is always difficult making decisions that involve other people, but yesterday is a lesson to err on the side of caution.