Well, Tilda, you’ve forced me to write about a book I wrote for Another Publisher. Sorry. But sailing it is.

In a previous post, I wrote about doing my research after writing the book; I did the same thing, though while the novel was still in draft form, for THE SANDFATHER (to be reissued this year by A.N.Other, with a striking new cover). The story is set in a fictitious seaside resort called Ryton-on-Sea, which bears an uncanny resemblance to Littlehampton, on the Sussex coast. Hal, my main character, is in all sorts of trouble, having been excluded from school and sent to stay with a great-aunt he hardly knows (by a plot contrivance I won’t go into here). I wanted him to have the chance to try something new and do it well, and that something is sailing.

Well, I’d never so much as set foot on a sailing yacht in my life, and didn’t know a bowsprit from a half-hitch. And I knew that it would be very easy indeed to get things wrong. So I decided it was time for some hands-on experience, and found a company called Firstaway that offered sailing courses for all levels of incompetence.

February wouldn’t have been my ideal time of year, but I had a deadline to meet, so I set off for Southampton into bitingly cold winds and sub-zero temperatures. I’d packed my Goretex walking clothes, which were quickly dismissed as inadequate: instead I was kitted out in a sort of padded boiler suit, which made me feel like Michelin Man. There were five of us on the thirty-foot yacht, and I turned out to be the only novice. Still, it suited my fictional purpose perfectly, because Hal in the story was never going to be an expert: he was having his first experience, just as I was.

We set off towards Portsmouth Harbour and I followed instructions about pulling in fenders, slackening sheets (I bet I’m getting it all wrong – this was a few years ago now … ) and did some tacking and jibing. All very exciting. Even more excitingly, once we headed out into the Solent, I was allowed to take the helm, while the yacht heeled over at 45 degrees and other people saw to the jibing and the tacking. I managed to steer into Cowes Marina without mishap.

We slept on the yacht, mooring at Hamble on the second night, and going up the Beaulieu river to Buckler’s Hard. Here I lost points for becoming so interested in the birdlife sheltering along the shores that I asked someone else to steer, while I gazed out with binoculars. This was definitely disapproved of by my otherwise tolerant instructors.

We were very well-fed, with meals produced in the tiny kitchen. It was numbingly cold out on deck; I really needed that boiler suit. By the end, when we moored up at Southampton and I supposed to learn how to tie a bowline or some such, I was frozen into stupefaction and just couldn’t get the hang of it, ending up with coils of rope tangling round my feet. 

It was a most memorable weekend, and I’ve got a certificate somewhere to prove it. If I did another two days, I could qualify as Competent Crew, apparently. Yes, I can definitely see the attraction of sailing: imagine chartering a yacht and setting off for a month or two around the Hebrides! But also, I got a glimpse of the troubles you could get into, as people do who are over-confident. I think I’ll stick at Incompetent Crew.

On the Solent

Linda Newbery has written over 25 books for children and young adults, including Set in Stone, which won the  COSTA Children’s Book Prize. Last year, DFB published Lob – a beautiful story about journeys, garden magic and growing. You can read what Linda has to say about Lob on her author page and in the Guardian feature.

Look around Linda’s website here.