The Bairns Are Back

by Marsali Taylor

Last summer, after two years, of Covid lockdown, we were at last able to have junior sailing again at our local club.

most experienced sailors took a ‘sailed-twoyears-ago’ beginner out in Picos, and the medium-experienced went out in pairs in the remaining Picos. The rest of the total beginners went out in the rescue boats and were swapped into the Sports. By the end of the first session, everyone had had a go at steering, and the older ones demonstrated a capsize before the traditional jumping off the pier.

The following week the seniors moved into the more demanding red-sailed Mirrors, leaving the Picos to the juniors. We used one of the toowindy sessions to work on rigging your boat, tacking and yes, wind or not, by popular de- do it. ‘Much better to try it first here in the marina rather than out in the voe,’ we said, but she was determined, and we couldn’t force her ... until she came back saying she wanted to jump off the pier. No, we replied firmly. If she wouldn’t capsize because it was too cold, she wasn’t going in swimming either.

The first session produced a sea of small people in wetsuits. We’d got twenty-eight of them! Did we have enough boats...? Enough instructors...? Well, yes; two of our former trainees had returned as assistant Dinghy Instructors. and we had two Senior Instructors and a Dinghy Instructor as well as enough people with their power boat certificate to run three rescue boats, and experienced parents who’d keep them company as they zoomed round the voe.

Once she’d tried her first capsize, she liked it so much that she did it again.

As for boats, two instructors took three total beginners each in two of the large Sport 14s, the

We had ideal conditions for their first shot solo: a glorious sunny evening, with a gentle breeze blowing shorewards. They all rigged their Picos, had them checked, and got them tied along the pontoon (memo to self: knot work).

They had a lot of fun. The pair of brothers went neatly round like pros; the rest kept being blown down from the bouys and had to be directed back to the other one (memo 2 and 3: upwind sailing, and coming head to wind to talk to us). Although we’d done on-shore tacking practice thoroughly, there was a lot of confusion between hands, feet and tiller extension (the crews were in charge of the mainsheet, otherwise that would have joined the tangle) and (memo 4) we’d need to emphasis the helm being on the weather side of the boat. Confidence was great, everyone was smiling, and we stayed out an extra half hour. Reporting from the shore, our SI reported a memo 5: arriving at the pontoon. They’d gone for the stopping-byramming method. Such a good thing Picos are indestructible!

The next session was the final one, and the gusty day turned into another perfect evening. We talked about going into irons, and how to get out of it, and the idea was that we’d then do races: head to wind in a line, round the two buoys and back to head to wind to finish. We managed a couple, though never with all the boats together on the starting line.

To finish, we got out the sack of oversized pingpong balls in day-glo colours, which are thrown on the water for the children to gather up. It’s a fantastic way of teaching boat handling skills. The minute they see the bag a sort of feedingfrenzy descends, like sharks scenting blood. They abandon RYA method or being scared of gybing, and start flinging the boats around any old how. Cautious crews lean precariously out to grab either legitimate target balls on the water or less legitimate ones in the boat next to them. One pair got so excited that they capsized.

The official winner total was written up next to the boat name/your names list on the whiteboard. 47 balls to beat... though the pair who’d capsized reckoned they’d had more than that before they went over.

Once the schools go back we’ll begin our second six-week course. The nights are dimming, but they’ve got an incentive to rig quickly: their own Pico regatta at the end of September.

We try to make sure everyone gets a medal. Twenty-eight ... we might have to think up more races.

Marsali Taylor studied English at Dundee University before teacher training. She moved to the Shetland Isles and has stayed there ever since. She’s the author of ten Shetland-set detective stories starring liveaboard sleuth Cass Lynch. She’s published a history of women’s fight for the vote and articles for Shetland Life. She also has a monthly column in Practical Boat Owner. Marsali spends her summer messing around on the water in her 8m yacht Karima S, and her winters involved in the village pantomime.