Cherbourg via the Isle of White (a sailing experience that questioned weather I would ever sail again!)

Butleigh rugby club as many well know has a plethora of traditions; one of these is the annual yacht trip to Cherbourg to pick up refreshments for the club. On the evening of July 16th four people; Mike Rodgers, Chris English, Julia and Antonia Maunder assembled in Butleigh’s Rose and Port pub before setting off in Mike’s specially purchased family car to meet up with James piggy Pearse the captain of the ship. Now there has been some speculation as to whether girls should be allowed to join in on this sort of thing but in the spirit of the new Butleigh committee and the fact that Julia has out drunk several Butleigh players several times it was decided she should go.

Now Mike doesn’t just share his first name with Schumacher for nothing and within 10 minutes he had his front seat companion, Chris sweating, praying for his life and holding on to the passenger door handle with the grip of a python tackling ambitious sized prey.
Little did Chris know this would be the smoothest part of the journey ahead.
Arriving at the south coast port minus only a wing mirror Chris was sent immediately to the yacht to unpack his enormous suitcase on wheels.

In Butleigh style the trip kicks off by meeting at a bar in Poole where skipper Piggy moors his yacht ‘H.M.S. Scudamore’ in a near by marina. The first leg of the cross channel journey is a purely technical affair, that of boarding the boat and chugging half a mile negotiating the harbour lifting bridge before mooring up and returning to the pub.
The following morning, much to the astonishment of Skipper Piggy everyone was up at 5am and ready to help. Mike set about making bacon and egg baguettes as they cruised out of the calm warm waters of Poole harbour with the sun shining brightly in a big blue sky. They were, however heading out, unbeknown to everyone except Piggy into Gale force 10 winds complete with howling thunderstorms and reduced visibility. Chris, by this point was down below donning an apron, one of the many practical items he had packed in his case. Strangely he only packed one pair of trousers which as he later discovered wasn’t to be enough when in a mid channel nautical incident involving heavy seas his flies broke and thereafter he had to spend the entire weekend flying low. This was to attract a great deal of attention in a bar later that night.
The crew cleared the idyllic white cliffs that shelter the Dorset coast and started to get into rougher waters. As the boat lurched down one of the first larger waves Chris in his marigolds and apron was sent flying backwards and lay sprawled out on the floor of the boat. Julia and Chris at this point were looking decidedly pale. It was clear there was soon to be re-sampling opportunities of the culinary delights of Mike’s breakfast baguette and Antonia was duly sent to get life jackets and ties lines for them both. Seconds later Mike lurched half over the side heaving and retching coming up a few moments later with blood and worse all over his face. Julia and Chris soon followed suit.

Thirty minutes later, Antonia joined this elite group leaving only Captain Piggy still digesting his breakfast. Gagging noises heard coming from his direction cast doubt as to whether this would last. By this time Chris was doing a chameleon impression having matched the colour of his face to his green coat. Piggy with winds screeching through the rigging voiced his concern that no one was having fun and asked if anyone would like to turn around; ‘we have a further 9 hrs of this to make France’ he shouted. Mike with patches of scraggy dried blood on his face insisted despite not being able to show any enthusiasm that ‘everyone is loving it’. Piggy then asks Chris directly, who at this point is looking close to death how he is and from somewhere a quiet heroic voice says ‘lets push on’ before closing his eyes. Julia and Antonia aren’t caving in either. Piggy in a vain attempt not to put the crew off sailing for life (to the secret relief of all on board) turns around.

Almost back in Poole harbour and most of the sickness is passing, terra firma is within grasp and there is an eager anticipation to take that first step on to land. Showers are also high on the agenda particularly for Antonia as she has inexplicably managed to throw up down her own back. Piggy however isn’t going to let anyone off, rounding up cats would be a simpler task than getting this rabble back on board after stepping on dry land. ‘The Isle of White I believe has four vin yards’ he shouts and turns the boat about and a new heading is set for the Island’s main port!
On arrival at Yarmouth, Isle of White, the two nearest vin yards are located and the crew set out by foot. British wine doesn’t have the greatest reputation and after sampling the 5 bottles on offer (no red because it’s all in the local co-op) they left feeling obliged to purchase a couple of token bottles. Completely sober, it’s decided to get back in the Butleigh tradition and head straight for a pub, Piggy knows just the one.

The ‘Saltys’ Inn is famous for its live music and fantastic atmosphere during the summer months. Within an hour Julia and Antonia are dancing on the tables along with half of the population of the Island. Chris is singing a reluctant duet with the DJ and Piggy is making his own moves on an attractive brunette, taking full advantage of the lack of space or maybe dirty dancing is just his style.

2pm and the music is over they head back to the harbour only to discover the yacht’s dingy not where they left it. Mike had tied the dinghy up using simple Plimsoll knots but had made up for it with sheer quantity ruling out the possibility of it having drifted away.

Captain Piggy who in the pub had been the ‘skilled‘ winner of a pacey card drinking game ‘shithead’ is by inclination a mariner of stern social etiquette but was now a wild boar, charging up and down the marina before spotting his dinghy being rowed a short way out by two men. He shouted at them ‘get back here!’ and much to everyone’s surprise they did. As it arrived at the steps the two men quite little and very large tried to run past, little squeezed through Chris’s legs but large had the wroth of a raging piggy who unleashed a well aimed haymaker shouting ‘you’re swimming’ as large fell back into the harbour waters.

Piggy having gained control of the dinghy fired up the outboard motor and to the concern of his own crew headed fearlessly towards the men’s yacht to take on the rest of their twelve strong stag group leaving the two miscreants standing on the shore quaking and stranded. Eventually after a wholesome exchange of abuse with the antagonists Piggy was persuaded back towards the faithful H.M.S. Scudamore.

The following morning the expedition complete with just the two bottles of Isle of White wine arrived back in Poole harbour delighted and happily exhausted with their fulfilling but unfulfilled venture.

Two weeks later a new crew including the battered but unbowed Mike Rodgers under resolute Captain Piggy set sail for France once more.
by Antonia Maunder