Peter Duck is a character in one of Arthur Ransomes famous children’s novels, in later life he commissioned Jack Laurence Giles to design a comfortable cruising ketch which was named after the character. The design was commissioned just after the war in 1945, built by Kings of Pin Mill in Suffolk she was completed in 1947
Ransome is alleged to have requested “a sort of marine bath-chair, a minimum of work to sail and yet provide the maximum comfort for two.” Whether Laurence Giles succeeded is not clear, but for whatever reason Ransome didn’t take to Peter Duck and sold her after only 3 years in 1950.
Although not a production boat, over 40 of these ketches were built. LOA is 28 feet 3inches long with a draught of 3 feet 6 inches and a beam of 9 feet. The original boat was fitted with a Stuart Turner engine. The detailed fit out of each is varied, but the overall design is recognised for its passage making ability even in heavy weather. The easily handled ketch rig made the boat popular with single hander sailors.
The original Peter Duck still survives, indeed flourishes under family ownership who have been custodians for much of the past 50 years.
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The Vogalonga is a priceless opportunity to row round the Venice lagoon, passing through the islands of Murano and Burano before making triumphant progress down the Grand Canal itself, and finishing outside St Marks Square. Participants take to the water in whats probably the widest variety of different, oar-powered craft youll ever see in one place, mostly flamoyantly dressed, and as determined to have good time as they are to take on the 30km rowing challenge. There were just so many reasons why we kept saying "Oo, look at that one!"...
Event: Vogalonga Where: Venice, Italy
Distance: 30km
Time: About 4hrs - it isnt a race!
Boat type: We were in a wide 4+, but any human-powered boat will do
Number of crews in the event: Hundreds
Event Organiser: www.vogalonga.com
What does Vogalonga mean? Literally, "long row". Voga=row and longa=long, not surprisingly. While youre at it, "Vog" rhymes with "dog" not "Vogue". Never try to sound posh when speaking Italian as you will have got the vowels wrong (and while Im at it, "Latte" rhymes with "paté" not "Art A"). Thanks for letting me get that one off my chest. A bit of background, including "focole" When you think of rowing in Venice, most of us, myself included, think of the expensive, black tourist gondolas, and thats it. But when you think about it, what WOULD the average Venetian do as a sport? Not many facilities for football, hard to train for a marathon when youre turning corners every 20m and falling over tourists every 10m, and race cycling is clearly right out. So its actually quite logical that Venice has a number of rowing clubs, all tucked away off the tourist track a little.
A Venetian rowing clubs fleet of "stand up" boats. And a Filippi double.
But when I say rowing, its not as we think of it, Jim. For starters, they often dont sit down. And they face forward. Why? Well, the islands of Venice - the main one, the Lido and the outlying islands of Murano, Burano and Torcello - stand in a lagoon. A shallow lagoon. There are various dredged channels through this that allow function as roads for the motor boats, but you could stand up in most of the square meterage of water out there. However, there are plenty of rocks strewn around this area, so if youre standing up and facing forwards as you row, you can see these and avoid them. Which is a lot better than putting a hole in your Empacher single.
The clubs collection of "focole".
Not only do you not get to sit down in Venetian rowing, you also dont have a button to lock your blade onto the gate - and to make matters even worse, the "gate" is a rather open-plan affair, and is basically a half-circle carved out of a wooden post called a "focola". Focole often have more than one carving in them - enabling a gear change, which is a natty idea. I think I saw some, though there isnt an example here, where there was a carving on the back of the focola - for backing down.
"16 men went to row"
About the event The Vogalonga is not a race. Prizes ARE presented but only to crew numbers randomly drawn out of a hat afterwards. And everyone gets a little medal and a poster.
Rather, its a celebration of unpowered rowing in a city where the many commercial motorboats - "vaparetto" water buses, and the elegant but expensive water taxis - throw up a heck of a lot of wash. As a result, any human-powered craft is welcome in the Vogalonga, and this ranges from 1-man plastic kayaks, to the most extraordinary and unique boats, some involving large number of standing-up oarspersons. There were also dragon boats, outriggers, a Finnish chuchboat, and many, many I didnt begin to recognise. What to wear?
Note the white skirts. Not sure what the rug trailing in the water is for...
As far as we could tell, the formal kit for a Venetian rower is white trousers, a horizontally striped top, and a matching sash round the waist. Which was obviously all fine until ladies started rowing. Now, your average Italian donna can get away with skin-tight white jeans, or even hotpants in a way that we Brits, with our Anglo-Saxon skin, cant even dream of. But despite apparently embracing female members of the club (not literally, doubtless some of that goes on too, but thats not the point here), it appears that certain traditions have to be observed, so lady rowers wear short white SKIRTS. Most of these appeared to be tennis skirts, although I saw one lady who appeared to have been unable to get to her local branch of Lillywhites before the event, and had resorted to rowing in her petticoat. Well, it was short and white. Although it also had lace round the edge.
Boats came in all colours. Sometimes with matching oarsmen.
And what not to say to a gondola-builder Our team of nine were fortunate to have arranged to borrow a sliding seat, offset coxed four from a tiny rowing-more-as-we-know-it club out on the Lido. It was a bit battered, but ran nicely, although the undercarriage on one seat broke as we were rowing it across to the start area the day before the event. Fortunately, the place where the boats were being stored overnight was next to a gondola-builders workshop, so I approached the master craftsman within, brandishing a 30-year old, broken rowing seat at a man who makes utterly exquisite craft, that sell for up to E30,000 a piece, and asked him if he could help us. After considerable sighing, some glue and some clamps were produced. It was rather like Fabergé if he could just slop some paint over a hard boiled egg. But we were back in business.
Onboard refreshments being served to a canoeist.
Out on the water With nine in our team and only five seats in the boat, I was in "crew 2", and we caught the vaparetto out to the tiny island of Burano, which was roughly the half way point, with the aim of finding somewhere we could swap over with "crew 1". We quickly identified an ideal spot along the main canal that runs through the centre of the island. A large barge was moored there, with a group of French people aboard, who were preparing mounds of sandwiches, and unpacking boxes and boxes of chicken drumsticks. As the first crews approached, they would easy, and call up their food - and drink - order. "Do vin rouge? Certainement!" "Des sandwiches?" Bien sûr!". The French would then load the victuals onto a round metal bar tray, mounted on a long pole, and pass the order out to the crew.
Compared with the "no alcohol/early night" discipline of regatta and head racing, Id been fairly amazed at the cocktail party laid on by the organisers of the Tour du Léman the night before the race, but drinks DURING the main event - this was truly continental. Anyway, we hopped into the boat, and headed out from Burano, further across the lagoon, and then through the canal on Murano, the glass-blowing island. Then we were back into open water again, overtaking smaller craft, and being overtaken by larger ones, all of them fascinating to look at.
Steering under the Rialto is one of the most memorable moments of my coxing career.
Finally, we turned into the main bulk Venice, entering a canal in the North where both banks were lined by cheering crowds. We soon turned into the Grand Canal itself, and lapped up the incredible experience of rowing under the Rialto. The event ends in a complete frenzy with well over a thousand small boats gathering in St Marks basin, where it was incredibly choppy - whilst the man-powered craft might not cause much wash, a stiff breeze, and a massive cruise liner than had come in to berth (I think theyve stopped that now) made it all pretty rocky.
Which, of course, meant that conditions were not ideal for the obligatory salute that boats make on finishing, which is called the "alta remi" or "high oars" - you take your blade out of the gate and hold it vertical. All of you. At the same time. And in our case, VERY briefly.
The "alta remi". Well, some of us.
Unmissable The logistics involved in the Vogalonga a are fearsome for Brits - its a long way to drive with a boat trailer, and even then, you need a character-ful boat to do it in, or youll just feel like youve somehow got into the Stewards enclosure at Henley wearing jeans. It would detract from the experience. But if you can overcome these, you will be rewarded with a spectacle like you have never imagined, filled with craft, costumes and colour, good humour, numerous languages, and supportive crowds. YOU will be part of the Venice that the tourists have come to see. But do try to avoid being photographed in your petticoat...
This boat almost certainly wasnt made to be propelled this way, but why not!?
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When I first took part in the 160km, non-stop Tour du Léman à lAviron around Lake Geneva, I was thrilled to have completed what I felt at the time was a very daunting challenge, and was quite clear that there was no need ever to do it again. But some months later, the other woman from that mixed crew and I decided that we SHOULD do it again. And actually, make it harder this time by doing it in an all-womens crew. Having pulled together a carefully chosen quintet of ladies who can "shut up and row", we set off for what we thought was going to be a tough row. In fact, it turned out not to be about rowing that year, but about the pumps. Of which we only had one, and it was rather inadequate. Ladies who row At this point I should, perhaps, mention that the formation of the crew wasnt quite as easy as Ive made it sound. Youd be amazed at how many, hard-training/racing rowers DONT think that a 16 hour row round a lake is a good idea. But having got stuck at four out of the necessary five, I got chatting to a woman at the City of Sheffield Rowing Club training camp, which I was attending, mostly for social reasons, at the invitation of friends from there. After talking to her for about 5 minutes by the landing stages, I somehow felt that she was a likely candidate. "Hey, I dont suppose youd like to row round 160km round Lake Geneva at the end of September, would you?", I asked, before we were hurried into our single sculls by the coach, and sent off for the session. As I pulled back into the landing stage an hour or so later, she hopped out of her boat, and came over. "Put me down for that race. Ive already booked that week off work and was looking for something to do." Shes been my best expedition rowing friend ever since. For Yorkshire, chocolate and the flag
The flag.
All five of us had strong Yorkshire connections: four were past or present members of York City RC, and the fifth was born elsewhere in Gods own county. And whilst I never got used to drinking tea THAT strong, its the kind of place you feel an attachment to, even if you only lived there are a temporary migrant from the South. For further bonding of our otherwise dispersed team, I made a crew flag that featured the colours of the four rowing clubs that the five of us belonged to at the time. It was to become our rallying cry. Getting roughed up Although the weather was idyllic the day before as we were preparing the boat, the forecast was for a windy race day, and as soon as we rowed out of the organising clubs harbour, we knew we were in trouble. Still, 22 crews set off on the usual 1km charge across the lake, before turning to head out past the UN building and along the Swiss shore. It was tough going. Although wed taped up our riggers, waves kept breaking over the bows, rapidly drenching the woman rowing there, and actually they were breaking high enough that they often just landed straight in the boat. I was soon working our hand pump whilst also trying to steer (which needed to be done actively as the waves were pushing us around). Our normal stopping schedule would have had the first swap after 30 mins, but we were aware that this was no time to stop and clamber up and down the boat, so the first combo kept going, although with increasingly frequent pauses to bail out. At some point the hose fell off the end of the pump, but the amount of water the pump was shooting out, meant it was easy to aim over the side. That wasnt the problem. The capacity of the pump was, though: and it wasnt enough. We discovered later that all of us were independently thinking, "If we get through this rough bit, even if the water flattens out, were all so wet were going to get hypothermia", and as five basically lightweights, we were all right. However, it was still a big "if"... Bling At this point, Ill leave us pumping and paddling ineffectually and explain a small aside. Keen to encourage the participation of more all-women crews, the organisers had managed to secure sponsorship from a local jeweler (this being Switzerland, after all) in the form of five Boucheron watches. Nice. These would go to the winning womens crew. So, as we were struggling along, quite close to the only other womens crew in the event, one of our crew did raise the point that if neither crew was going to finish, the watches would go to the one that got furthest, and so we should make sure we always paused ahead of them. Which was a fine plan, but like so many brilliant strategies, its the implementation where things often go wrong. And the last time we stopped to bail, when we just HAD to, we were behind the others. At this point, the straw that broke the camels back, or more accurately, the wave that swamped the yolette, came over the side, and it was all over. As pre-planned, we pulled our feet out, the boat rolled over (but stayed floating), and we all ensured we stayed holding on to the boat with one hand until the other hand was holding the ladder of one of the two motor cruisers that were in attendance. The race organisers always assign one cruiser per crew to act as a safety boat. However, as 11 crews had already swamped or run for he safety of the bank, one who no longer had a crew had chosen, for some reason, to follow the girls in the wet t-shirts. This was helpful, though it did lead to some angst as two of us got onto one cruiser, and three onto the other, and I was only 99% certain Id seen all three of the others get onto the other boat. The French can be sticklers for accuracy As we climbed aboard, I saw my drybag, containing clothes, and someones iPod, blow away across the surface of the lake, floating, because it contained quite a lot of air. "Mes vêtements sèches", I cried, in my best schoolgirl French. The cruiser driver replied "Non, vos vêtements secs", before retrieving the bag with a boat hook. Honestly, what a time for a grammar lesson! Having been surprised at how warm the lake felt when we were swimming in it, as soon as we got into the cruisers cabin, we started shivvering like mad – it must have been the adrenaline that kept us going while it had to. We divvied up what dry clothes we had, and supplemented these with some towels lent by the two vast French gents driving the boat. So, after a mere 1 hr and 20 minutes of "rowing", and a surprisingly long run in a cruiser back across the lake, we found ourselves once again at the Société Nautique de Genève, about 14 hours earlier than wed intended. We werent even tired!
We went back to the dormitory, we showed, we got dressed, and it was till only about 11.30am. So we wandered sadly into town, stopping for some photos by the famous Jet dEau, but not feeling very jolly. At this point, a thought suddenly struck me, "The flag!", I wailed. We had no idea what would be rescued from the capsized boat, although we had tied all of the important stuff on. We wandered on, unexpected tourists. And apparently not very good ones either, as we finished up in a run-down red light district. A little later we did get to a rather better park, and played a few moves on a giant chess board, but we werent really in the mood, and soon headed back to the Club where we were delighted to find that our camera, GPS and most importantly the flag, had been rescued from their little swim. Good for you Pentax and Garmin, is all Ill say: when you say watertight to a depth of 50m, you mean it!
Giant chess is no substitute for a good rowing challenge.
In the end, only five of the 22 starters got round. They were all German. And were equipped with very efficient pumps. And yes, the other womens crew got the Boucheron watches. Because they were about 25m ahead of us, and went down about 3 minutes later. So we were a crew with unfinished business. But would we all be able to come back again? In one case, this trip was a crew members holiday budget for the year, so to allocate all that two years running was a big ask... Find out whether we made it! [Apologies for the lack of pictures in this report: as you now know, we were a bit busy to stop and take any.]
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AHOY! A new boat joins this blog! We have seen a Goat Island Skiff, a Quick Canoe, a Sea Pearl 21, assorted other boats from friends, and now I present FLO-MOs stitch and glue interpretation of a West Mersea Duck Punt from southeast England!
At the end of September, I got a hankering to do something a little different than the coastal open-boat cruising. A rainy solo evening at home got me reacquainted with Dylan Winters duck punting videos from the UK. For the intrepid reader who DOESNT know anything about duck punting in traditional duck punts from West Mersea, England, have a look-see over at Ye Olde YouTubes.
I strongly suggest looking at Lurchs page, as he has some phenomenal videos of duck punting with his local duck punting group. I have spent hours watching his videos to glean sailing tips. Dylan Winter, through his famous Keep Turning Left adventure has literally wrested this small traditional duck boat from SE England and plunked it on the world stage of sailing, where it has weaseled its way into many sailors hearts for its simplicity that also demands high levels of technique.
Duck Punts have no rudders, or centerboards. They are sailed by sail and weight trim, and an oar. They sail in a few inches of water, and cost little to build.
Capn Jon pushed me over the edge, and I built a duck punt in one month, for a few hundred dollars. I built my punt from FLO-MOs stitch and glue adaptation of John Milgates classic West Mersea duck punt plans. There were a few aesthetic and construction changes, but the scantlings and dimensions are true to FLO-MOs plans. I did not play naval architect and I wanted to ensure I kept the West Mersea shape that FLO-MO put together. John Milgate requires a strongback and 10mm plywood, I wanted mine built out of 6mm ply and without the strongback. Primarily, this was because I wanted to car top my punt, as I live somewhat landlocked. Meranti ply and pine came from Goose Bay Lumber, leftover epoxy, some screws, and a few cans of Rust-O-Leum. An optimist club sail came from Intensity Sails for a swell price.
Then, I called the legendary Dan Noyes, who built a solid wood 12 Yankee reimagination of John Milgates punt, and we went punting!
Dan Noyes with his punt on a dolly, walking down to the water. Dans punt is constructed of solid pine boards and oak frames.
MRS MUMBLES and Dans Punt getting ready to launch. Note Dans DIPPING LUG RIG. SALTY!
Detail of Dans Punt
MRS MUMBLES working through the grasses to a hidden creek in Plum Island Sound
Dan follows behind, snaking through the grass
Dan and his dipping lug, which he dips.
Working up another creek
We find small irrigation ditches and follow them deep into the flats. Notice my super cheap-o boom jaws! The entire rig is made of poplar dowels. Not ideal, but a quick fix for quick sailing. Forestay to keep mast from wobbling too much. A more permanent mast is in the works for this winter.
Dan in his own irrigation ditch.
Dans ditch comes to the end of the line. From here, we will drag the boats.
A salt pan, that remains full at low-tide, above the water line, in the middle of the flats.
MRS MUMBLES
Time for lunch! We are pleased with this beautiful day.
Dan sailing MRS MUMBLES After these pictures, they ran away from me
MRS MUMBLES is very fast, which is why I have lots of stern pictures from a distance, and very few up-close action shots. Having a fast boat is not frustrating, unless you are trying to take pictures of it.
Heading home in round-about kind of way.
Hauling out in the muddiest canal we could find in the entire state of Massachusetts.
Please join in me in welcoming MRS MUMBLES to GISAmateur Style! HUZZAH!
There is an entire gallery, including construction, that you can peruse at this link.
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Many of you have already met Giacomo de Stefano. Hes the intrepid traveler who made a self propelled trip on the river Po, Italy in a Ness Yawl. That trip was conceived to raise awareness of the environmental condition of the Po and other major industrial rivers. Giacomos perspective, from sea-level (literally) is a very emotional one and the boat he chose reflects the spirit of the endeavor perfectly.
On his upcoming trip he will leave from the UK and make his way to Istanbul, using another Ness Yawl.
The boat Giacomo is using for this journey is Clodia, professionally built by Roland Poltock in Venice and Villa del Conte, Italy.
Designed by Scottish designer Iain Oughtred, the boat is 19 ft.LOA(5.6m) and similar to those the Vikings once used for fishing and transport and also related to those the fisherman from the Shetland Islands still use.
Clinker built, planked with mahogany plywood, she’s light but very seaworthy and good for both rowing and sailing. She is built of 9mm okume plywood, italian oak and larch with pine for the floor boards. The beautiful tanbark sails are made by Core Sailmakers in Venice.
Clodia is designed to sail and row from London to Istanbul for a project called Man On The River, 5300 km by oar and sail, to promote the concept of a sustainable way of traveling with respect for overburdened European rivers.
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By popular demand, MRS MUMBLES went back to Plum Island Sound for some more punting!
Strapped to the roof of the car, we shot down to meet again with Dan Noyes and his idiosyncratic 12 punt, and were instead met with calamity-- Dan was dismasted at the bottom of the ramp. While he was sheeting in his dipping lug to fiddle, he wind, barreling down the river at a steady 15kts sent a higher and unanticipated gust which filled the lugsail and broke his burly spruce mastwhich in turn wrecked his mast thwart. His punt was on the hard, so it couldnt heel, applying full force to the mast and partner assembly.
There was a moment of collective hair grabbing and talk of what the wind was going to do to my bendy POPLAR DOWEL mast and accompanying spars, and what kind of hypothermia would set in after they were chewed up and sent overboard.
The damage is done.
HOWEVER, we are burly New England sailormen, and such trivial matters such as masts, strong winds, and 33F/1C air temperatures hardly register on our annoyance scale when the sun shines as bright as it does and the water beckons. Its only going to get colder, after all. We adjusted our plans and sailed to the flats instead, to do some clamming. MRS MUMBLES secretly loves Dan, so I offered to sail her down and he could sail her back. This way, everyone got to go sailing, and MRS MUMBLES and Dan get to do their innate sailing thing, which almost sounds obscene but its not, its beautiful to watch.
Also, Dan got to take some FIRST EVAR pictures of ME sailing MRS MUMBLES. (just in case we forget).
The poise as we barrel downwinds. Note bendy mast.
Here, just at this moment, I break a thole pin. I broke two thole pins today, making it three broken in two sailing days. I need a new solution.
Downwind, under control, and check out the forestay! Bendy POPLAR mast at its finest.
On the flats, and Dan clamming in the distance.
TIME...
...AND TIDE.
One of these nifty salt pans that remain full of water, above the waterline.
Dan getting ready to go. I add this picture to show how she sits on her lines. Disregard wrinkled sail. Snotter stretched a bit.
I found ICE in Dans bilges.
Dan working MRS MUMBLES upwind and back home. She cuts a fine figure.
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