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A salt-encrusted anthology of a writer in love with the sea, in the manner of Tessa Duder's bestselling sailing collections.
The ideal gift for the sailor in the family, this book contains a selection of stories, and a novella inspired by a lifetime of sailing adventures and misadventures. The writer is a sailor whose love of the sea has brought him back time and time again, despite mishap, mayhem and the occasional life-threatening disaster.
A book for those with saltwater in their veins, this personal selection is the perfect book to take on board - or to read at home when you can't make it to the sea. In all, a collection of 23 autobiographical stories from Lindsay Wright's working life as a professional yachtsman, delivery skipper, charter skipper and shipmaster. When you feel the urge to go down to the sea again, make sure you take this book with you.
Lindsay Wright has been a professional yachtsman, delivery and charter skipper and shipmaster. He lives in New Plymouth and has written for New Zealand Listener, North & South, national and international boating publications.
Harald with the new hut, the rattle of hammers at work echoing hollowly across the empty landscape. At night we sat outside and admired the view, or listened to people from all corners of the globe talking to one another on the ham radio. We had come to know Harald’s dogs by name. They were getting excited, he said, because they could sense winter coming on. Summer is a time of enforced idleness for the dogs, sweltering in the heat at the end of a leash, and they are happiest in the dead of
yacht at River Bend Marina while he moved in with his yacht-broker girlfriend. Things were looking up. Sarah and I had spent years discussing the ‘right’ boat for us. We kept notes of positive aspects of yachts we had raced and delivered, and, likewise, their drawbacks. Our boat was to be our life — more than just a home or a conveyance to lug us safely across oceans. Our yacht must look good, must perform well, and must be safe and sea-kindly. We wanted a boat strong enough to take us into the
yard of her rebirth and motored out of River Bend Marina, she had a new crew member sitting smugly on the foredeck and taking in the sights and smells as we negotiated the four lift-and-swing bridges and through the harbour basin that stood between us and the Atlantic Ocean. We stopped at Fernandina Beach in North Florida to finish off the refit, and moored at a boat yard up a muddy creek. Almost every morning there would be one or two small, muddy fish left in the cockpit and we suspected that
stout construction served us both well as the huge seas smashed us onto Baylys Beach. I lived to sail another day; and, little as I knew it then, so would Askoy. KAVA CAPER One of the most illuminating aspects of offshore yacht cruising is the many opportunities that sailors get to be at one with the locals: eat their food, dance their dances, or imbibe their inebriant of choice (not always necessarily in that order). Not to excess, you understand —
Jolly explained. ‘They’ll be shackled to 200 metres of 100-mil polypropylene rope. That will be shackled to 14 links of ship’s anchor chain — and another 200 metres of polypropylene rope will go to the bollard onboard Braveheart. ‘Some people have said that she’s not up to the job — it’s up to you to prove them wrong.’ The Tauranga to Fiji trip was ocean cruising. Two big mahimahi fell for our lures and were quickly consumed as sashimi, fried fish and chowder. The Niigata main engine throbbed