“For God sake grab that fender” bellowed my skipper, a retired line cavalry Colonel. We were scraping the inside of the sea lock wall while entering the La Vilaine on our way to La Roche-Bernard in Brittany. Dutch and French sailors were watching us at close quarters with sick making smiles on their faces.
The Colonel had offered me a sailing ‘trial’ on my request for his advice on buying a sailing boat.
His other crew was an old sea dog who could drink us all under the table but was still able to teach me about ropes and all the things that can go wrong. He managed to get the main halyard caught on the spreader which was fixed by a Frenchman shining up the mast much to our shame! He was a fine sailor of the old school who did not know why we needed an engine, a life jacket or shoes on board.
It was a fun trip around the the French coast and The Morbihan and they failed to put me off. However I really started to learnt to sail with, well let’s call him ‘Paul’.
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