Wa(l)ter At Another Mark - 1973 European Championships at Troon

On Saturday 4th August. we set sail for the European Championships at Troon, Scotland. l was convinced I was going to win — so the rest is worth reading! Bowling merrily up the M6 we were overhauled by Bill and Ken Webber with their brand new boat 'Slithy Tove'. I felt sorry to see them so happy, wasn‘t I going to beat them!

 'Crisgar' sailed by Les Owen, and 'Mini', sailed by my son Chris, were two other Northwich boats heading towards Troon, We were all accompanied by the ladies who do the washing up — Pat, Norma and Megan — three of the nicest chorus girls you could wish to meet!

A selection of photos by David Paterson, Troon S.C. Hon. Sailing Secretary taken from the Committee Boat. Click to open lightbox display.

At Troon we found that the generosity of the Town Council meant we could camp right there beside the Clubhouse — along with about 70 other units. l abandoned the tent for the car in the early hours of Sunday morning as the wind got up.

Saturday evening saw us all stamping around in the pouring rain, while the band competed with the generators, and the warmth was found inside us (and the welcome from Troon Sailing Club).

The Practice Race was (comparatively) uneventful — won by Peter Barnes, sailing his usual superb style. He carried off the Collar Spars prize for this particular race. in the evening we all enjoyed the Commodore's reception. Monday was the day when the Champs really got warmed up eventually, and with such light airs that the race Officer had trouble setting a course. After several postponements, and a ‘follow me and await further instructions‘ we got started. Chris and Trevor Smith in 'Spook' had a battle of wits with paddles, while Peter Barnes tried to get down his spinnaker chute — I wish the damned  thing had swallowed him!

Race 2 on Monday afternoon — well! what can I say? A squall, or at least part of it, hit the entire fleet just as we were going out — and that was that. It was at this point the seamanship (or lack of it) showed — several boats were not carrying anchors, and when the Troon rescue boats took off the bodies, the boats had to drift — and sustained damage. I believe the race officer abandoned the race, l was too far inshore already! All around there seemed to be chaos, boats shaking themselves like shaggy dogs,  boats upside down, and worst of all, boats completely out of control, achieving speed which would have had Rodney Pattison reading Paul Elvstrom.

Next morning,  and a ‘Rear Commordore‘s purge!’ ALL boats had to show to Brian and Sally not only their anchors, but where they were attached to the boat — and you’d be surprised at how many were neatly wrapped up in plastic bags — useless when it came to the point!

Anyway, I held all the others back, finished seventh, and allowed son Chris to come in 12th, after forgetting his life jacket.

The briefing at the start of the Championships was excellent full of details and firm instructions — including the bit about the salmon nets close to the harbour wall! With true Scots cunning, Hugh Campbell laid the start of the third race quite close to this obstacle. With the cries of ‘Water‘ ‘Room to Tack‘ and ‘Starboard‘ and the slack water, I was completely baffled. I eventually came 26th, and Chris who sailed much worse, 12th — I shall have to keep my eye on him!

Tuesday evening the Provost and Councillors gave us a lavish reception — large quantities of the local malt, and a dance. Wednesday was a free day and we went on the steamer around the Kyles of Bute. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but it would have been better had I helmed — perhaps they had seen my results!

Thursday: I waited for Jeckells van to arrive (many thanks Peter!) and hastily purchased a new — longer — spinnaker halliard, dashed down the beach, launched with the rest of the fleet, and decided to try it out on the way to the start. Now the wind was offshore, and I asked Eddie, my crew, to assist me in setting this wonderful sail. Once up, it began to pull and pull! I seemed to pass one or two boats quite quickly, the rest seemed to scatter like the crowd at a stink bomb demonstration! By this time, Eddie‘s face was white as a flour grader's and I realised that this must stop! I ordered the spinnaker down, but the boat would have none of it, and promptly laid down and died!

After what appeared to be only minutes in the water, a ‘Rubber Duck‘ arrived, and offered us assistance. I asked them to hang around for a second whilst I tried to get 'Maxi' upright.

That damned spinnaker had engulfed the jib, and all the surronding ropes. etc. After circling us for three or four minutes, the rescue craft said he would have to go unless none of the others wanted to race! He was the Guard Launch! Many thanks to Ian for standing by! and for taking Eddie and I to the nearest fibreglass dinghy which put us aboard the Catamaran whose skipper appeared to be Scots, and shouted with gay abandon ’Gie 'im a wee dram — Rum was the drink, and rum was the sight with boats scattered everywhere by the rising wind.

A solitary boat — sail number 14! appeared, called 'Mimi', and the helmsman, Harry Taylor, shouted to us in astonishment “What are you doing up there?" “Having a drink,” I replied, “where else could you get one so cheap?" He was quite a long way from the start, but then, so was I!

I had left 'Maxi' on her side, anchored, and didn't realise she was later to drift way down the coast. This was due, so I was told, to me not anchoring her properly — I had the warp around the mast instead of from the ‘sharp’ end. However, after Harry had sailed out of my life,  I noticed 'Mini' was also riding at anchor, and Chris and his crew were also taken aboard the Cat to the tune of the skipper's ‘Gie 'em a wee dram!‘

'Mini' had been swamped whilst hove to, and finally capsized, so Chris and Garry had righted her, dropped and lashed the sails and left her snugged down to be picked up later — she was riding at anchor when they left her. I consider this to be the most sensible action, though the boat later drifted for miles and could have been lost — at least my son and his crew were with me and others on board a large, safe, cat.

Later a naval helicopter spotted 'Mini' and hovered over her which aided the Troon rescue boats, and the borrowed army jeeps (complete with drivers for the week) to drive around to fetch her home.

At this point, may I thank ALL concerned with the rescue facilities at Troon. I believe a full air and sea search was launched, and can only think that our Association Committee made a very wise choice in their venue. Should there ever be another opportunity to stage a Championship at Troon, I should delighted to attend.

Thursday night: the local Gas Board (a welcome sight as we came ashore each day, as they served hot bovril) sponsored us all to haggis swedes and mashed potato! I am told I should have poured whisky over the haggis — I didn't, I poured it in afterwards! The occasion was the traditional Scottish Ceilidh! We all danced, reeled (!) sang, watched demonstrations of superb Scottish dancing, listened to pipes, and were entertained by the competing National Associations. The Danes sang, the Swedes composed a song for the occasion, so did the Dutch. My son Chris led a team of young English with his guitar and Norman Long (Chairman of the Irish Association) entertained us all week with The Long Boat — Mirror Dinghy 04 — which is out of Class on at least a dozen points — and which he sails wearing a crash helmet — the sense in this scheme is apparent!

Friday arrived all too soon, and the racing got underway. I got off to a lovely start — eventually worked up to about 9th, but, seeing all the unhappy faces I had decided I was definitely best and came passed, dropped back to 15th! Chris 31st!

During the week, several things happened to make life almost worth living. Like the Swedish girl skipping down through the tents! She was beautiful, though poor — what I mean is, she had no visible means of support — and in eyeing this well rounded maiden,  I smiled and promptly fell over a guy rope (in doubt put there by Megan). And the toilet tent which smiled a welcome with it's shining zip, but would not let me out when I had reported for duty! This had me caged up about four times in the Week. On the camp site there was one happy family whom I christened the “quality street gang" This is the family of George Meller. There are six lovely children, one bearded dad, and a long suffering, happy-go-lucky wife called Anne. The warmth of this family is quite astonishing, and it shows the care and affection which ‘large family’ living generates. one of those children crewed for me — Edward. The thing about him was the care he put into my boat. He didn't knock or scratch, drop or crease any put of it, he even washed her down and covered her up for me. If my sailing was as good as his crewing we should have done better.

Even though he had never capsized on the sea before, though frightened, he did exactly as he was told, amd gave me not a moment’s worry. Together we came 15th overall — thank you, Eddie, see you up at the blunt end at Looe. And thank you, George and Anne for the wonderful production!

Now next to our tent there appeared a strange creation which, though battered all week with never a tear shed, housed one Peter Barnes. I sent Chris in to stay, in case he talked in his sleep. As these two rebels bummed their way all over Troon, this long-suffering tent gradually reached the kneeling position by the end of the week. Finally to be ‘put down’ on the Thursday night. On Thursday we spent a very rough night with Lynn and Harry Taylor, while Chris and Peter spent a ‘free night‘ with Willie Allison who was none other than the 'Gie 'im a wee dram’ skipper. This kind gentleman looked after them when they should have been jailed by the ‘Blacks at Greenock' for cruelty to tents.

I should also like to thank Frank Moon who kindly loaned the Shearwater to Peter and Chris who hasn't stopped talking about it since. Chris hasn't said much about his trip on horseback — and Harvey Smith to you too, lan!

The Northwich team, though not covering themselves with glory, nonetheless sailed well. Peter Barnes, with three firsts, a second, and a mere 6th to discard, was supreme — and we all drooled over the conditions and shine on the Danish boats — it was wonderful sailing among such an international gathering. We have been to Scotland several times, and it's always the same — ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL. Please and thank you. Excuse me, can I help you? At Troon Sailing Club, at the shops in Troon nothing was too much trouble for these grand people. They gave us food and drink of the best, and as Bengt Forster of Sweden said at the Prize giving “we saw only sunshine, and felt light breezes" What a good turn of phrase he has! I'm sure all the visitors to Troon felt as I do — the richer for having been.

At the Prize giving we hailed a new European Champion, and who can deny him and his excellent crew - Peter Barnes and Hilary Taylor, what a double act! Peter has been bridesmaid so many times, so he knows more than most what it is like to be beaten.

Well done, mate! you deserve it, and what about that prize from Gray's at Ayr? Good luck with her, Hilary, named the ‘Magic Carpet’ may she give you much pleasure, and always be foam-backedl

Now, on to Looe.....

Report written by Walter Maxfield - M27753 - Maxi

Results, 5 races, 4 to count.

Withdrawn

24838 R. Johnson, Sovereign & Weirwood SC. 46,75,57
37500 S. Penney, Carrickfergus SC. 41,DNC,DNC

Other Prizewinners

• Practice Race: 15500 Peter Barnes  IPC (Iver) YC England
• Furthest Travelled: G. Tidner, Sweden, 16423
• First Native Boat: S. Robertson, Forfar, 32692
• Endeavour: B. Mathes, Denmark, 31470
• Lady Helm : J. Bay, Denmark. 20473

This article is from Reflections No. 11 Autumn 1973, pages 1, 6, and 16 and has been captured by OCR, so typos & errors are possible.

Thanks to Ian Paterson for scanning, and letting us use, his father's photographs.