Gavin Atkin's weblog for the sort of people who like looking inside boat sheds. It's about old boats, traditional boats, boat building, restoration, the sea and the North Kent Coast
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While we’re still scraping bottoms and slapping on the antifouling, down on the coast of Spain our friend Ben Crawshaw is already enjoying some fine sailing conditions in his Light Trow, Onawind Blue. It’s enough to make a chap sigh… in fact, words fail me. Roll on the English summer!
To see his video, click here.
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Cooking on board Ben Crawshaw’s Onawind Blue
I don’t know about you, but I find just looking at this photo of Ben’s dinner cooking on board his Light Trow named Onawind Blue sets my senses off. I’m sure I can smell this dish as it cooks.
To quote Ben:
‘According to the great Catalan writer Josep Pla (1897-1981) fish stew as cooked and eaten by fishermen is the most ancient of Mediterranean dishes. Regardless of the religion, the rulers or the nationality of the neighbouring shores fish stew has been a constant.
‘A simple dish with a long history that, marrying fish, onion, garlic, tomato and potato in the pot, produces sustaining, sumptuous yet delicate fare. From this fundamental marriage the Provencal bouillabaisse was born and also the less elaborate suquet of Catalonia, a dish that has attained an almost legendary status (at least on its home shores) and one that usually carries a price tag to match.’
Find out how to cook it – the recipe is simple and you’ll find it at Ben’s excellent weblog The Invisible Workshop.
For more on trows in general and the Light Trow in particular, including boatbuilding plans etc, click here.
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Light Trow Onawind Blue tied up somewhere on the Spanish coast
Ben Crawshaw of The Invisible Workshop is back from a 300 kilometre trip in his boat Onawind Blue and, not surprisingly, seems to be simultaneously shattered and happy. Why not leave a comment of congratulations on his weblog?
Here’s a quotation:
‘You can’t travel 300 kilometres over the sea in a little boat without a lot happening. We had our share of calms and light headwinds, we had long sessions of gut busting rowing under a blazing sun, we had contrary currents and large rolling swells; conditions so frustrating and tiring that I was ready to let mermaids lure me overboard into the cool waters. We had a rat stowaway in the forward locker for 24 hours and we ran aground off a small rocky island. We saw the Tramontana wind and helped heave a 30-foot sailing boat off rocks after it’s anchor dragged in the cove where we sheltered from the fierce blow. We had some fantastic sailing with following winds, at one point so strong that I could only continue sailing by rigging the double-reefed mizzen sail on the main mast and then, with only 1.2 metres of sail cloth, we still sailed at 6 knots. I discovered the most idyllic coves, met fantastic, welcoming people, got drunk, ate some great food and let the sea in through every pore in my body so that now, on land at last, life seems impossibly dry.’
Ben has a great story to tell over the next few weeks, and I’m looking forward to it!
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