The best of times, the worst of times

The sun had appeared at long last but was often blocked out by the huge waves rearing up astern, looking like giant, luminous green mountaintops.

My Corribee 21 Glasshopper was storming ahead of them up channel and towards home but things were getting serious. I’d left Teignmouth that morning, 30 Aug, 1980, with only a light breeze but this had increased throughout the day and I’d gradually rolled in more mainsail.

She still needed less sail but I was unable to take in more as I was down to the lower batten. Only then did I realise this batten should have been made parallel with the boom to allow it to be rolled around it – but it was too late to do anything about it now, especially as my autohelm had packed up hours earlier.

I was pleased that the long shaft Seagull