Annual General Meeting - Kettering Yacht Club by jianglifang



                    SKED-JUNE 2010 Winter edition!
                           Newsletter of the Kettering Yacht Club

Doldrums in the ‘Gordon Triangle’ on route to Cygnet (photo by Rick Lutjens)
        Jim Tayton at the helm of Sylvena (see Chariots of the gods)

   Annual General Meeting
         7:30 pm, Tuesday 13th July 2010
         At Kettering Cricket Club rooms
                            Mailing address                Phone enquiries
                            The secretary, KYC             03 6228 1139 (H)
                            P.O. Box 280
                            Kettering Tasmania 7155        Email

                            Club Rooms (and deck!)
                            at Oyster Cove Marina          Website
                            Ferry Rd. Kettering, 
                            Default Sked Editor Rick Lutjens
                            Happy to receive articles and photos for the sked at
                   or 2 Oyster court Kettering
                            Thanks to Andrew Norman, Steve Sallans, Jim Tayton and
                            Debra Brinkhoff for their contribution to this sked.


  The Annual General Meeting of the Kettering Yacht Club Inc. will be held on Tuesday 13 July
                           2010 at the Kettering Community Hall,
                   Channel Highway, Kettering, commencing at 7:30pm.

                         Minutes of 2009 the Annual General meeting.

                The meeting will receive reports on the last years activities from:
                                       The Commodore
                                         The Treasurer
                                          The Auditor

                 The meeting will set the membership fees for the coming year:

   It will be moved that the membership fees and entitlements for 2010 – 2011 be set as
       Family             $140 Entitlement: two adult YA Silver Cards, and Junior Cards for
all                            eligible family members.
       Single             $110 Entitlement: one adult YA Card.
       Social             $55 Entitlement: one adult YA Card
       Junior             $40 Entitlement: one Junior YA Card

 Members who join for the first time during the course of the year will incur fees on a pro-
rata basis. Fees will be levied from the month when the application is accepted by the
committee until the end of the club year (31 August):
      Joining Fee       $30 Entitlement – Club T-shirt
      Family      $12 per month (including month when accepted by Committee)
      Single            $9 per month
      Social            $5 per month
      Junior            $3.50 per month (No joining fee for Junior members)

Notes: Presently the Club is issuing approximately 95 Silver Cards. Some family mem-
berships have more than two, and there are some members who have cards from an-
other Club. Banding fees are around $900, so as a round figure, it is costing the Club
about $10 per card. It has therefore been recommended that Family Membership in-
crease by $20, Single and Social Membership by $10 and Junior Membership by $5 to
defray the cost to the Club.

                         Election of Office Bearers for the coming year:
                                        Vice Commodore

                             Election of the Committee of the Club

                                   Appointment of the Auditor

                                        General Business

                                                                                      Jim Tayton

From the Commodore’s Cockpit
 Have you ever thought that the course the OOD set today had ridiculously short legs, or
that the racing calendar lacks social events, or that there are not enough twilights? Have
you ever thought the club could do a much better job of running the annual dinner or that
why on earth are we not getting on with building a new club house; or maybe you definitely
don’t want things to change too much at all?

Well now you have the opportunity to do something about it. The AGM is coming up very
shortly and it’s up to you to be there and have a say in how we run the club, or at least
help decide who will take the reins this coming year.

 As I will not be standing for high office this year, I would like to take the opportunity to say
thanks to all the members who made my life as commodore a most pleasurable one. The
sportsmanship and good will exhibited by all members of our club is extraordinary and
possibly unique. In the past three years I have had to chair only one protest committee
and that was settled in a most positive and gentlemanly way.

 Some have thought that by not utilising the protest, after all a legitimate tool of competitive
yacht racing, it diminishes the game. While in one respect this is absolutely true, on the
other hand I think it demonstrates the fundamental culture of our club, that is, that we’re
here for relaxed, supportive association with like minded sailors to enjoy a great lifestyle in
one of the most beautiful waterways in the world, and that, in my view, is an important ob-
jective of the club and we should strive to keep it that way.

 A club, even one as laid back as ours, takes a considerable amount of work to keep its
head above water. The committee as a whole has done a great job. Every meeting has
been well attended even into the dark depths of winter huddled in the shed around the ra-
diator. The outstanding commitment shown by various members of the committee de-
serves special recognition: Jim Tayton with the huge work load of the secretary; Ian
Spence with the cast iron carapace required by a handicapper and his deep thought into
making the racing program interesting; Tony Lagden and Rick Lutjens for looking after the
books, and Rick for keeping the Sked up and published; Rosemary Marsh for making sure
there are cold drinks and BBQ at the ready, and Lyn Wilson for the beautiful cakes. Then
there’s Mick Burrows, for the essential job of keeping our committee boat on the water and
being a great OOD; Greg Hawthorn for his handicapping and his technical advice; Michael
Short for his flair for writing and web mastering; John Evans, David Leake, Ben Marris and
others working up the next season’s sailing program; David Cree and Mike Church for
their for strong committee support, and David’s refrigeration expertise and Mike electrical
expertise; and Robin Coffee, for rounding up sponsorship.

As you may appreciate, the last three years was a great team effort that made my job feel
somewhat insignificant. Well done everyone.

 Thanks to the sailing program sub-committee, next year’s program is looking very inter-
esting. For those of you who just cannot get enough racing, the twilights are going to be
scheduled weekly now and amongst other changes there will be a greater coordination
with other clubs and the freeing up of long weekends for cruising or other activities. Keep
your eyes open for the program coming out soon.

See you at the AGM, Steve
Life on the Water by Deborah Brinkhoff

                     A new life…….
Entwined with a sailor and the clever yacht he created.
   Its as if my life has been a preparation for this -
  this life of expanse, and rugged ocean adventure.
                   A gift from my love
              To embrace, and flourish in.
     A life of challenge, exhilaration and triumph
              He chose me to share in this.

       It’s a life filled with wild beauty and charm.
Its source the captivating ocean with its changing moods
                   -still like mirror glass;
                -playful with dancing diamonds ;
              or wind lashed with fury.
             Ever restless, ever changing.
     And patterns atop as varied and entrancing as
              the imagination can hold.

        Our vessel, the fine and noble Vivarina,
     Carefully designed and crafted by my mate.
  He built her light, only three tonne, with tall rigging
                 So she is fast and flighty
                       And strong.

                   Her sturdy bows thrash through
                    turbulent Tasmanian waters,
              yet she delivers us faithfully every time.

                       The beauty of sailing her!
                            - liquid and light
          Huge sails full and billowing in the lazy summer
             breeze astern when the boat melts forward;
                            or straining tight
                  in the stiff, icy winds ahead when
               she flies, barely skimming the surface.
          And only the sound of the rush of water
                       as her hulls slice through;
               and the wind singing in the rigging, taut with tension.
         I can sit up cosy in bed in the cabin, looking out at the
            wildness while the captain weathers the
              storm at the helm just behind me.

          The captain - My husband of just one year.
          He is my mentor in this nautical world and,
      although it is humbling to feel inept, he is a clear
       and patient teacher and my expertise is growing.
                           My new life.
         Handling dinghies and ropes, winches and sails.
                  Anchors, jetties and moorings.
    Learning the lore of the sea, and how to harness the winds
                – the beautiful, untameable winds.

                           Life on the water.
We put the anchor down in bays of exquisite beauty, seldom visited.
     Sandstone cliffs and rocky shores, windswept beaches,
  and aqua waters lapping white sand with fish aplenty to catch.
    Then we pull the anchor up and we are on the move again.
                 I sit in the sunny cabin watching
            landscapes merge and unfold as we drift by.

                           Life on the water.
           A wild storm and we nestle in a haven shielded
                from howling winds and surging seas.
          The rain beats on the boat – cleansing her sturdy
                    bows after her arduous passage
                     while warm inside, we sip chai
         drinking deep of our love and the goodness of life;
   fishing boats anchored around us, bunked down for the storm
      and our little home fogged up, a private world of its own.

                            My new life.

                       I awake and am anxious how I will fill the day –
                      It’s grey, cold and windy and the boat is swinging
                              on the anchor, slopping in the swell.
                                        I yearn for home.
                       My husband rows me to shore and while he sets
                                      the net I light a fire.
                             Suddenly I see the beauty of the day.
                         Rugged cliffs, the currawong’s haunting call,
                        textures and colours in the seaweeds and rocks.
              The driftwood turning into golden flames, my cold face warming.
              My man in the dinghy hauling in the catch for our dinner tonight.
                            Then seagulls by the dozen squabbling
                              over the fish scraps while he fillets.
                                        It’s a wild Tasmanian seascape.
                                       And I am part of it.

                               It’s the raw simplicity he loves
                       Uncluttered time and space to think and breathe
                       This world makes sense – Being part of nature.
                                   No agenda and no rush.

                             But there’s constant challenge too.
                         Decisions. Decisions around the weather.
                    Always the weather and always the Weather reports.
                   Then the course is set and there’s relief and success of
                          safe passage and sheltered anchorage.
                         And the motion. Its tiring and unfamiliar.
                           Being rocked and jostled and moved.
                                Constantly. Continuously.

                                    Then there’s the sky
                             As vast and changing as the ocean.
                          The black night sky sprinkled with stars
                                As we lie in bed looking up.
                         The blistering blue skies of summer with
                        billowing white clouds that tower above us.
                       Misty skies of water colours, soft and muted.
                  Stormy skies with thick brush strokes of black and grey.
                  And always a bird flying free and unfettered on the wind.

                     A favourite surprise of this new life are the dolphins.
         So lively and frolicsome-jumping, turning,
        dancing, spinning, speeding alongside our boat.
We lie on the tramps, our faces aglow and squeal with delight.
                          They seem to smile as they swim just out
                              of reach of our outstretched arms.
                    And even in dark storm tossed waves and driving rain
                                 the dolphins jump and play.

               This life is a feast to the senses.
      Beauty unparalleled and a profusion of sounds-
  The wind in the rigging and the slap of water on the hulls.
The whooshing as we sail and the crash of waves on the shore.
                The screech of a gull and our
         dinghy lapping playfully behind the boat.

         Then it’s time to come home.
   And the feeling that something precious is slipping away.
         The inevitable adjustment to life back on land
          and the room swaying and bobbing for days.
     Intimacy lost and the familiar routines that engulf us.
                       But we’ll go back.
                    Back to the world where it
                 is man and woman and the sea.
                      Raw. Clean. Simple.
Life on the water.
                                    By Andrew Norman

After a year of resting at South Haven Marina and a new, not-wet bulkhead installed by
Able Marine; Prima Donna burst back into the KYC scene (much to the disappointment of
the other div. 1 boats) with an outright win in the first twilight of the season. Since then the
blue boat has been campaigning heavily in all KYC events in order to prepare for battle
with the big boys from town in the quickly approaching end of year offshore races; Maria
Island, Launceston to Hobart, Bruny Island and the newly re-introduced Mewstone Rock
race. The last time Prima was offshore was in 2003 where she won first place in the fully
crewed racing division of the Three Peaks Race, we hope to continue with this success at
the end of year events.
 This season in particular has given us everything it can throw at us: Last year’s Pipe
Opener we managed to get 5 metres of rope stuck in our prop when motoring past
Sheppard’s point on the way to Hobart, after much debating and several Rock, Paper, Scis-
sor games KYC’s very own Mike Church was lucky enough to go for a swim in the crisp
September waters. After getting the rope clear and setting off for the second time we man-
aged to reach Taroona before hearing Castray Box start the race on the VHF, staring at
each other in disbelief we quickly shoved the last bits of toast down our gobs and threw the
plates downstairs as we prepared for the race of our lives if we were to catch up. Dodging
close to 40 boats, all under kite in pitch black conditions was interesting but upon reaching
Castray 30 minutes late and seeing that the box was empty we did a U-turn and with kite up
flew down the Derwent at speeds we have only ever dreamed of. Travelling at speeds in
excess of 0.9 knots we quickly assumed our regular poll position by the John Garrow light
as the fleet had all but stopped. By the end of the 9 hour race including a tricky encounter
with HELSAL V which included many heated words, we finished 12th on handicap.

Another event where team Blue Boat was tested was the dreaded Hope Island Race 2010, on
this occasion making the start at the correct time we blasted down the Channel with the fleet
quickly being spread out behind us. Averaging a good 12 knots, Dictator began slowly pull-
ing ahead of us and by Huon Island was 100m in front when she broached and from our an-
gle it appeared as though the keel had snapped off, men were catapulted from the wings into
the water and everyone on the closest yachts (Magellan and Prima Donna) began quickly
dropping sails and were preparing to render assistance. Radio chatter came alive as yours
truly explained the situation to the fleet only to rip the plug out of the wall as we came off a
particularly bad wave. Woops... In the heat of being a hero we accidentally sent the spinna-
ker topping lift up the mast, wrapping it around the Genoa halyard and jamming it in the rig
effectively ending our race.
Dictator having recovered scampered tail between her legs to the lea of Huon Island to re-
cover while Magellan had no such problems and went on for a line honours win. Yet our
problems were small in comparison to ‘Bout Time‘s which had her rig ‘smashed’ into 4 neat
sections while on the upwind beat, ending their race. Mike later reported that he was glad no
one was hurt but bitterly disappointed that his chances at the twilight and long series trophies
were over.

Skipper Martin Norman reports that Prima was slipped, polished and antifouled and is ready
to take on some go-fasts in the remaining winter series races, bring it on!

Andrew Norman

On Last Fandango we have a strict management structure. I’m basically the
boss and anything my darling says goes. Below this level we have the usual
crew. It can be summed up as follows.
The following petty officers are commonly known as "appointed" petty officers, viz.:
but the terms apply strictly only to the last named.
The petty officers are divided into two classes: petty officers of the line, and petty officers.
The Master-at-Arms, Ship's Yeoman, Engineer's Yeoman, Apothecary, Pay
The petty officers of the line, in order of rank, are as follows:
Boatswain's Mates, Gunner's Mates, Signal Quartermaster, Coxswain to Commander in
Chief, Captains of Forecastle, Quartermasters, Quarter Gunners, Coxswains, Captains of
Main-top, Captains of Fore-top,
All other petty officers, except the Master-at-Arms, who is chief petty officer of the ship,
take precedence as follows:
to rank next after the Master-at-Arms.
to rank next after Gunner's Mates.
to rank next after Captain of Afterguard.
The following are known as the rated men of the ship, Viz.:
Strictly speaking, all men above the rating of seamen
Captains of Mizzen-top, Captains of Afterguard. Ship's Yeoman, Machinists (1st class),
Engineer's Yeoman, Apothecary, Paymaster's Yeoman,
Master of the Band, Schoolmasters, Ship's Writers, Carpenter's Mates,
Machinists (2d class), Armorers, Sailmaker's Mates, Coppersmiths, Painters,
Ship's Corporals, Captains of Hold, Ship's Cook, Electricians, Blacksmiths,
Officers' Cooks and Stewards.
Our 14 year old son Sebastian is hard to get out of bed and to get him to
make it up when he gets up in the afternoon can be challenging. To this end
we have posted this notice above his berth.
The boys of the ship must be berthed together, and separate from the rest of the crew;
usually aft on the gun-deck in charge of a corporal.
A hammock should contain a mattress and mattress cover, and a pair of blankets.
Hammocks are lashed up by taking seven marling turns with a manilla or white rope
(untarred hemp) lashing. Every hammock should have three good nettle stops on the head,
for stopping on the girtlines, and two on the foot. Some officers prefer having the stops
put on the girtlines, but this is objectionable, as the line stretches.
As hammock girtlines are usually fitted to trice up alongside the masts, the rule for stop-
ping on hammocks is with the numbers "up and out;" but any change in the manner of
tricing up girtlines would change the rule. A regular station-bill for stopping on ham-
mocks, especially on board large ships, conduces to order and saves time and annoyance.
Ipods and Xboxes should be off by 9 pm.
Berthing a catamaran in a cross wind with a nervous wife requires extra rules
in behaviour. When I mess it up and suffer dints this rule applies:
Silence is one of the evidences of good discipline, and the crew soon acquire the habit, if
properly instructed by the precept and example of the officers. Hailing the deck from
aloft, giving orders in an unnecessarily loud tone, and useless repetitions of commands,
should not be tolerated.

New Members
It has been a while since we published a welcome to our new members (slack editor- my
apologies), so here is a list of members who have joined in the last twelve months
The Kettering yacht Club would like to welcome these new members.
Rodney Chadwick
Malcolm and Chinh O'Brien-
Rob Greenwell-
Tim Leake
Gil McAllister
Duncan Mennitz
David Bowker-                        Dyad,     Len Randall 33ft cutter with bowsprit
Tony and Kim Brewer-                Vailima, Whitsunday 41
Stewart Edwards-                    Mintaka,    24' Swarbrick Spacesailer

And oh oh 3 more catamarans!
Tony Ryan-                   Rua- Waka, 9.5 m Mike Waller catamaran
Maurice & Karen Crawford Folie /a deux 14 m Chamberlain catamaran
Steve Hilliard               Jandawoo   30ft Murray Isles catamaran

   Barbara D during a twilight race Will there be double the twilight races nextyear?

A fine fleet started on a whisper of a wind one autumn morning. The race was to Cygnet
for the annual presentation dinner. Delicate lacework of wind patterns defined the frag-
mented areas of sailing on a generally mirror flat DentreCasteau Channel. Soon the ‘blue
boats’ (Prima and Farr Real) were well out ahead, managing to sail from one pool of wind
to the next, whilst the multis languished in the rear with the div two boats. Each in turn
would get the occasional squirt and we thrilled and rejoiced as the log climbed to two
knots. Quiet it may be but it was serious racing and soon the boats were starting to bunch
up in the stillness. Never mind, the sun was sparkling on a blue sea and none of us were at
By the finish of lunch, it was time to do some serious mathematics as the fleet was still
only off Woodbridge. Let’s see; twenty odd miles divided by a half a knot, yep we’ll be in
Cygnet by the end of the following day! Time to start the motors or miss out on dinner. But
who was going to go first? Our decision was forced upon us by the need to do some serious
Bundy and Coking before the walk into town. Leigh Davis was last to start his motor. As
he said later, “ It’s hard to retire when you are out there in front”. Last Fandango had no
such problems!
As we motored up the Huon somebody appeared to set off a nuclear bomb just south of
Dover. A massive mushroom cloud erupted from the hills as somebody torched a hill side.
I marvelled how a smelly exhaust could cop you a fine yet a regeneration burn is totally
The evening at the middle
pub was generally consid-
ered a great success with
about eighty members at-
tending. For us, there was a
bonus of winning our first
huon pine trophy in seven-
teen years of sailing with the
KYC. The walk back to the
boat after dinner was great
thanks to the board walk
along the river. Gee, wonder
                                                Last Fandango anchored off Arch rock
if we could get one of them in
Kettering? Nah,sorry, just dreaming there. Too many vested interests. Back at the boat sev-
eral after parties ensued with music and frivolities. No dragging anchors for that evening.
The following morning was crisp and misty as the cool air drained off the mountains into
the flooded valleys. The early birds were at it at the crack of dawn. The rattles of the in-
coming anchor chains announced their departure, whilst I was still thinking about leaving
the warmth of my bed. Some of the purists hand winched their anchors up, sailed off the
mooring drifting off down wind.
Up at last, over the rim of my steaming cup of tea, I watched the last of them drift into the
mist. I was just contemplating the delightful glow of the sun on the mist/smoke inversion
and the smell of barbequed forest when a will of the wisp breeze cleared the haze and re-
vealed the whole fleet a few hundred metres away. My God there is a race going on out
there! Ever competitive, we motored out into the fleet, shut down and concentrated on the
kite then concentrated on getting it down, then concentrated on what direction the wind
was really coming from. Tacking this way and that we finally realised we were in a dead
pool between winds. Blow it. Start the yanmars and motor to the next breeze coming down

the Huon. Another brief magic sail. Crack seven knots on a reach, then hard on the wind,
then dead calm again. To hell with this. Drop the sails and motor into a magic autumn sun.
Looking back over my shoulder, I cannot believe the purists are still back where we left
them. Some of them are actually pointing back towards Cygnet in a vain effort to work the
fickle breeze. I pondered the question; what makes Jim Tayton, Roger Aldridge and Tony
Lagden ( and Ben Marris had he been there) persevere to extract the teeny weeniest of minis-
cule puffs and convert it to a fraction of a knot towards their destination?
I motor on and these thought recede as the sweet purr of the diesels on auto guide us across
dead flat seas and I languish in the forward netting and pluck a few blues chords on my gui-
tar. Dolphins briefly entertain us between the hulls, just to confirm that all is well in the
                                                                             In due course we
                                                                             were distracted by
                                                                             Arch Rock. Is it
                                                                             just me, or is every
                                                                             sailor compelled to
                                                                             look at the Arch
                                                                             Rock Wink; the
                                                                             hole through that
                                                                             opens and closes as
                                                                             you go past?
                                                                             Funny, why is it we
                                                                             never stop and in-
                                                                             vestigate the is-
                                                                             land’s view of us?

                         Arch Rock view of Myfanwy

Impulsively we did a U turn and anchored in eleven metres and launched the rubber ducky.
The whole crew went to shore to explore. There are several holes through Arch Rock. In
fact, in places there is little holding up the top of the island and I found it a bit creepy going
through the hole. It’s much bigger than you think and I felt a bit nervous knowing that the
rest of the crew were stomping around on the top! Emerging from the gloom of the tunnel, I
noticed the first of the KYC yachts sailing past and I became part of the Arch Rock Wink.
They say we should all take some time out and get an-
other perspective Well we did. What a weekend!

After a protracted lunch, the day drifted into afternoon.
It was time to go home. Up anchor, on with the motor
and tidy up as we go.
As we approached Kettering we caught up with the last
of the purists. There in the warm glow of the dipping
sun, Sylvena inched her way past Woodbridge. At the
very stern sat Jim Tayton. Like a god in a chariot, he
commanded an golden army of minion threads of gos-
samer, gently tugging at every fibre of sail and rigging,
urging the tons of lead and timber to quietly slip to-
wards home, it seemed, by sheer will power.
As I left him in my wake I felt a sneaking admiration
for the purists.

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