HEIGHTENED SENSES

I was involved in a discussion the other day about the essence of seamanship. A number of folk were taking part and we had much of what you'd expect; tales of deep water storms, Cape Horn traverses, ice-hopping off Spitzbergen, and the rest. All good stuff, of course, but then up spoke a quiet man from the Chesapeake Bay. He, it transpired, had done much of his sailing in tight waterways and relatively flat water, but from his relaxed confidence you could tell he was a master of the trade.

And so it is with WR ‘Bill’ Cheney. His book Penelope Down East is a series of essays on single-handed cruising an engineless catboat among the islands and sounds of Maine. The charm of the writing, which would give the great Maurice Griffiths a run for his money, is matched by lessons to be learned from reading between the lines. There are no 40ft waves, no 90-knot winds and no knockdowns, but there is gritty sense in every page laced with humour and poetry. This extract shows us all three.

Without an engine to get in the way, I find that fears of running out of wind and being left to endure long nights of helpless drifting are greatly exaggerated. Patience when