The Wind Pinching Freak
More than once I've been accused of being a 'Pincher.'
Like a bloody common criminal, I felt. I stole the wind? How does that work? Wind pinching is a sailing term. There is no robbery, no real crime afoot.
It just means I'm sailing a yacht way too close to the breeze. One degree more into it and the boat would stall.
Stalling is not ideal. A sailing boat relies on the wind for forward movement so its captain can control it's behaviour through the water. It's called navigating.
A stalled boat is uncontrollable, vulnerable, unnavigatible.
It's better to turn away from the wind to maintain power and control of the boat.
Th area because the wind was coming that direction. Even then I knew that it's impossible to sail into a wind with a yacht.
Craig laughed at my suggestion, gave me the tiller, trimmed the sails for a close-hauled course and then assumed a reclined position on the windward side of the cockpit. He put his hat over his face - a pose he adopted every time we sailed - leaving me to wake him whenever I needed something!
And that was all I needed to make my choice. I was made the skipper and I decided whether to hold that position or pick another.
Did I actually get to the island any sooner?
I'd like to think so. It seemed logical as it was a more direct route but I'll never know. We'd need another boat of the same size and type with the same mass moving through the water at the same time to answer that question accurately.
Knowing what I know now: If it were a run-out tide then yes, I think my course would've been the right one to take as tacking away would've sent the boat south into a rush of oncoming water. It would've sounded like a faster passage but that's all.
The change of tack half a hour later would've seen another tidal shift that would've worked against us too.
But assessing tides wasn't my thing back then. I was a newbie sailor at the time. My strategy was simple: I see an island in the distance and I need to sail to it!
Tides matter in my next novel. I use one to hide a body and then I use another to reveal it.
It all happens near a spot north of a slack tide area close to Moreton Island. It's a place where I anchored one day and accidentally dropped a plastic bucket into the water - only to see it bump against the transom six hours later!
I can't wait to show you how I developed that spontaneous experience into a murder mystery!
It just means I'm sailing a yacht way too close to the breeze. One degree more into it and the boat would stall.
Stalling is not ideal. A sailing boat relies on the wind for forward movement so its captain can control it's behaviour through the water. It's called navigating.
A stalled boat is uncontrollable, vulnerable, unnavigatible.
It's better to turn away from the wind to maintain power and control of the boat.
Craig got me into sailing years ago. I took to it right away. The first thing he noticed was my ability to read the wind and find the highest windward angle for his boat.
I remember that day well. We took his Hartley 16 out onto Moreton Bay and headed out to Peel Island on a single tack.
That one 'tack' thing was my idea. Craig believed we needed to do more. A series of zigzags were required to get where we were going.
Th area because the wind was coming that direction. Even then I knew that it's impossible to sail into a wind with a yacht.
Craig laughed at my suggestion, gave me the tiller, trimmed the sails for a close-hauled course and then assumed a reclined position on the windward side of the cockpit. He put his hat over his face - a pose he adopted every time we sailed - leaving me to wake him whenever I needed something!
 |
| Craig, Hat, Tiller! |
So I watched the boat, its sails, their shapes and listened to the whoosh-whoosh sounds of the water running off the boat's hull.
The face under the hat called out, 'I know you're pinching. Fall away a bit, we'll get another knot and a half if you fall away.'
The face under the hat called out, 'I know you're pinching. Fall away a bit, we'll get another knot and a half if you fall away.'
'But we'll have to change direction and do another tack.'
'We've got all day.'
'Dropping a knot for a more direct course would take about the same time get us there, right?'
Shoulders shrugged in reply. 'Okay. You're in charge skipper. Wake me when we reach Peel.'
Did I actually get to the island any sooner?
I'd like to think so. It seemed logical as it was a more direct route but I'll never know. We'd need another boat of the same size and type with the same mass moving through the water at the same time to answer that question accurately.
Knowing what I know now: If it were a run-out tide then yes, I think my course would've been the right one to take as tacking away would've sent the boat south into a rush of oncoming water. It would've sounded like a faster passage but that's all.
The change of tack half a hour later would've seen another tidal shift that would've worked against us too.
But assessing tides wasn't my thing back then. I was a newbie sailor at the time. My strategy was simple: I see an island in the distance and I need to sail to it!
Tides matter in my next novel. I use one to hide a body and then I use another to reveal it.
It all happens near a spot north of a slack tide area close to Moreton Island. It's a place where I anchored one day and accidentally dropped a plastic bucket into the water - only to see it bump against the transom six hours later!
I can't wait to show you how I developed that spontaneous experience into a murder mystery!
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