When we bought a nice cruising boat with a furling headsail and lazyjacks and a stack pack on the main, it removed the chore of sail folding.
For 16 years we had sailed a Sigma 33, strictly in class, which meant not only frequent headsail changes (there were usually at least two to fold and bag after any significant passage) but also a mainsail with a luff rope that went straight into the mast track - no sliders.
When you took the main down, it not only had to be quickly subdued and secured with sail ties, it also had to be properly flaked once in harbour. So, as soon as we were moored, there would follow the 15 minute ritual of sorting the sails before even a warming cup of tea was permitted.
What a relief, then, to simply furl the headsail, and zip up the mainsail - everything neatly stowed and tidied before reaching the marina. Even the racing purist husband has had to accept the logic of such lazy sail handling systems on a boat where the sails are actually too big for us to lift comfortably.
So it came as something of a shock the other evening when we found ourselves back in the old routine. Having put up the new Pentex sails for a gentle stretch over the Easter weekend, we had to mark on them where the spreader patches should go, and then return them to the loft for these to be fitted.
This meant a trip up the mast for the skipper, as the wind died completely just before sunset. It was going dark by the time he was back down to earth, so we postponed taking the sails off until the next evening. (Fortunately we only live ten minutes' drive from the boat. We feel sorry for people who live further away, and cannot pop down midweek after work, to make the most of these fine long evenings we have been enjoying.)
The main and genoa were taken off and folded, and barrowed back to the car. We thought it would be a good idea, while there were no sails on, to try on the new storm sails. We've never had a trysail before, so this was something of a learning experience. We worked out how to set it both on the boom and off - as we would have to if we had lost the boom or broken the gooseneck in heavy weather.
(The process of equipping the boat up to Category Two for the Fastnet forces you to confront all kinds of doomsday scenarios and work out how you would cope with them).
Setting the trysail on the boom, you use a reefing pennant as an outhaul, and a sail-tie to tie the clew down round the lowered mainsail which will still probably be there. It comes with a length of rope already attached to the tack, so you can secure it wherever is appropriate.
Without a boom, you could use spinnaker sheets, blocks and winches to sheet the diminutive sail to the appropriate quarter.
I have never sailed with a trysail, and it seems remarkably small, but I am assured by people who have used them that given enough wind (ie rather more than you would probably wish for) they give you all the power and control you need.
So, trysail down and folded and back in its bag, it was time to look at the storm jib. As it was such a beautiful evening there were various people around us enjoying cockpit sundowners. They were probably somewhat bemused by the display of high visibility orange sailcloth, so inappropriate to the balmy conditions.
We set the storm jib up the foil, and worked out its likely sheeting angle, towards the front of the track and inside the shrouds. Storm jibs are required to have alternative methods of attachment, in case, for example, the foil in broken and the sail needs to be tied round the forestay.
We have opted for a system that enables the storm sail to be set round a genoa furled on the forestay. This seemed prudent, bearing in mind how difficult it would be short-handed to take down and stow a large genoa in a gathering storm.
The storm jib therefore has a separate sleeve, which goes round the furled sail, and is attached to the luff by good old fashioned piston hanks. It is stored in the bag with the sleeve attached on one side. On the foredeck it can be quickly hanked round to the other side to ready the sail for hoisting.
To try this out, of course, we had to put a genoa on the stay. So more heavy lifting was called for. The old genoa was duly hoisted and furled, and then the storm jib rehoisted round it. This proved somewhat fiddly, largely because the sleeve, being brand new, was stiff and unco-operative. Once it has been used a couple of times (and we will practise this manoeuvre with our racing crew before there is any danger of it being carried out “in anger”) and worn in a little, we think it will work very well.
When you furl a big headsail, the sheets perform a valuable duty in securing the clew, and on our boat when the sail is furled they are just out of reach, so there is no question of transferring sheets from the genoa to the storm jib. We therefore had to find another pair for the storm jib.
Like everyone who has had boats for any length of time, we have mountains of spare “string,” replaced for some reason or another but too good to throw away. A pair of ex-Sigma spinnaker guys proved ideal storm jib sheets, and these were left attached to the sail, ready for instant use, when we folded it up and put it away in its bag.
Then there was “just” the old mainsail to put back on. By now the light and heat of the day were fading fast, and there was an enormous temptation to say “enough.” But it seemed a pity not to finish the job. So the sail was lugged out of the locker, unfolded, rebattened and reattached.
By the time I was zipping up the stack pack, job done, we realised we had been hard at work for well over three hours, and we were worn out! We'd remembered just what a chore sail changing and folding can be.
