Holidays are very difficult with a stick. No cycling. No walking around. No hill climbing or mountaineering. No sitting around beaches or swanning around half a dozen art galleries. That doesn't leave much else - except for sailing. So - after a few hours searching on the Internet, a few emails and the gathering of some friends, we four arrive at Glenborrodale in Ardnamurchan with our water proofs, cameras (and prayers) to undertake the RYA Competent Crew course.
On a tiny jetty owned by Glenborrodale Castle we meet our skipper (also cook, cleaner, instructor and moral compass) for the week - Chris. Chris looks at least authentic. Early 60s, grey whiskers and a rather fabulous yacht (for the techies amongst you - a Jeanneau Sun Legend 41). We load our gear onto the Dory, and motor out to the boat.
First test for my leg - get off the Dory and onto the boat. This is achieved. And the rest, as they say, is history. Over five days it doesn't rain. We eat like kings and we learn our knots. We take the helm, reef the main sail and understand cleats and winches. We can heave to, and jibe without disaster. We can manage the jib and have a crack at the spinnaker. We sleep in very small cabins and treat fresh water like gold. We pay for a shower in Coll, and three days later in Tobermory. We practise 'man overboard' and pulling up the anchor. We enjoy our gin, and hot chocolate with rum. We oggle the sea eagle and squint into the sun for dolphins. We obey the signs 'do not feed the otter' and learn the rules of the sea. We pay due respect to ferries and whistle rudely at yachts that fail to give way. And on Friday, back on the jetty, we line up for our certificates. We are, according to the Royal Yacht Association, officially Competent.
And how was my gammy leg through all of this? Well, my knee ached pretty much the whole time. But my ankle was surprisingly silent. Was I cured? Alas no. Back on shore a week later I am still paying the price. My ankle joints stiffened up through their enforced rest and now I appear to be worse off than before. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Next spring we will tackle the Day Skipper Practical. And with that little certificate we can charter on our own....
On a tiny jetty owned by Glenborrodale Castle we meet our skipper (also cook, cleaner, instructor and moral compass) for the week - Chris. Chris looks at least authentic. Early 60s, grey whiskers and a rather fabulous yacht (for the techies amongst you - a Jeanneau Sun Legend 41). We load our gear onto the Dory, and motor out to the boat.
First test for my leg - get off the Dory and onto the boat. This is achieved. And the rest, as they say, is history. Over five days it doesn't rain. We eat like kings and we learn our knots. We take the helm, reef the main sail and understand cleats and winches. We can heave to, and jibe without disaster. We can manage the jib and have a crack at the spinnaker. We sleep in very small cabins and treat fresh water like gold. We pay for a shower in Coll, and three days later in Tobermory. We practise 'man overboard' and pulling up the anchor. We enjoy our gin, and hot chocolate with rum. We oggle the sea eagle and squint into the sun for dolphins. We obey the signs 'do not feed the otter' and learn the rules of the sea. We pay due respect to ferries and whistle rudely at yachts that fail to give way. And on Friday, back on the jetty, we line up for our certificates. We are, according to the Royal Yacht Association, officially Competent.
And how was my gammy leg through all of this? Well, my knee ached pretty much the whole time. But my ankle was surprisingly silent. Was I cured? Alas no. Back on shore a week later I am still paying the price. My ankle joints stiffened up through their enforced rest and now I appear to be worse off than before. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Next spring we will tackle the Day Skipper Practical. And with that little certificate we can charter on our own....
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