Sailing an FD on Shotton Lake, North Wales, April 1998 by Zoe

These lines relate to my personal experience of crewing a Flying Dutchman on a very small pool of water in a howling gale. (Otherwise described as the first event of the Association of North Wales Sailing Clubs’ Traveller’s Trophy Series held on Sunday 5th April at British Steel Shotton SC). It is not a detailed account of the races due to a combination of faded memory and having my eyes shut at the scary bits (i.e most of the day!).

Having been confidently told by a grinning face hopping out of a yellow and green camper van early on Sunday morning that it would *not* be chucking it down with rain at the other end of the North Wales Expressway, I set off for a wild and manic days sailing in a Flying Dutchman. Shotton can only be described as a puddle or more politely, small pool of water surrounded by industrial land with the odd tree scattered about. The club though provides very good chocolate cake! Four boats turned up from Felinheli, 2 Lasers, a Hornet and FD (Julian and I). Since I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have crewed in a Flying Dutchman this was going to be fun! FD’s to me (as a ‘little person’!) are big things - huge genoa and spinnaker, loads of bits of string and everything on a massive scale - but also the potential for lots of speed and fun! I had just about remembered where all the bits of rope were and had stopped falling over so many times by the end of the third race! When we arrived, (it *had* actually stopped raining, but was still wild and windy!), we were met with some familiar faces (Dave Turtle in his Fireball) and some bemused faces asking "What’s that?"!, wondering at the idiots planning to sail such a large dinghy on water where there is barely time to blink between buoys.

Considering the size of the lake, courses tend to use every possible mark in every possible combination and Sunday was no exception! We were off to a good start in the first race when we managed to go around the first mark the wrong way! Oops! No sooner than I had managed to drag the huge, massive genoa in and go out on the wire on one tack, the bank, clubhouse or adjacent field loomed ever larger and it was time to tack again! The upwind bits were a constant struggle to get the genoa in as fast as possible and fling myself out on the wire thinking heavy thoughts!! My part could be described as hanging on, laughing (no maybe I should say screaming) hysterically in the black gusts. Going round buoy no. 6 at one point springs to mind, when only the shortness of the gust (I think!) saved us from going over! Not something I wanted to contemplate when the mast was likely to end up stuck over the field beyond the bank!

Most of the time, going round getting dizzy and more and more exhausted, I spent wishing I was ten stone heavier, had eaten more breakfast or done weight-training all winter. The fun, really mad exhilarating bits - mainly spinnaker reaches - made up for the struggle uphill with the genoa. One bit of the race, mainly spent battling with the Fireball, which sticks in my memory is the reach down to the bottom of the lake - putting the spinnaker up, grabbing bits of string as fast as possible and out on the wire as the wind picked up and the FD speeded up so much that we were literally flying to the mark screaming, yelling (well I was!), terrifying other small craft! My screaming growing louder as the bank approached - with the FD seemingly unstoppable and the muddy bank and buoy impossibly close before the cry to ‘Drop’ followed by lots of jumping around, general mayhem, grabs at the sheets, wire and off to the next mark. Amazing stuff! Great stuff!, but give me the open sea!

By the end of the second race, when I crawled ashore, I was beginning to wonder if I would survive the third! As the wind was still howling - dark black clouds zooming across the sky - no let up but loads of enjoyment and great fun in between feeling completely out of control! In the end we had a fifth and sixth place to count and an seventh or eighth to discard, which mad us 7th out of 17 overall. Dave Turtle (Fireball) came first and our clubmate Rhys Griffiths (Laser) came second. I did enjoy crewing on what I can only think of as a huge boat with an overgrown jib and spinnaker. I’d just like to say that I had to jump to knock the spinnaker pole off the mast, and I’m 5' 5" - not that short!! Injuries and blood everywhere. Blood smeared the woodwork in increasing quantities and bruises multiplied buy the dozen. I did suffer on Monday , not being able to make limbs function correctly without pain and suffering! Although I have a strong feeling that Julian’s gloveless hands suffered much more - there being significantly less skin on them in the evening than in the morning! That all sounds a bit gory, but the only really gruesome bit of the event was Julian pulling loose strips of skin off his hands at lunchtime! No seriously, thanks Julian for a mad day’s sailing and for overturning some of my paranoid crew weight theories! I left feeling I would like to try crewing an FD again but on a much larger bit of water!! I got back into a Hornet (my usual source of entertainment) afterwards and it seemed tiny!! I had a great day sailing and had a big fat grin on my face for many days afterwards thinking about it!

:-) Zoe.

Julian says

1 Shotton lake is a bit smaller than Draycote Water - the dinghy park at Draycote water

2 The chocolate cake was cowing lush

3 Combined, Zoe and I weigh less than either one of the big engines (Gordon or James). If I was a 420, cherub or B14 helm after a potential championship winning crew I wouldnt look any further, and even in the FD, the way I sail them, determination, spirit and a sense of fun count for a lot more than meat on a hook.

4 My hands took two weeks to heal