Sailing Das Drama, Day 1

Day One: Girl and Buoy

Amazingly, morning revealed that the venerable cockpit tent had done its stuff, and everything inside was totally dry. The other boat crews were busily getting underway to pass through the swing bridge’s first opening of the day at 8.20. Bit early for us. We were glad not to have been too hasty, as another thunderstorm broke during the morning, but with showers and sunny spells likely to be the order of the day, we eventually decided better time spent getting rained on at sea than  sitting in sunshine in the harbour, so off we went.

Getting out of the mooring box wasn’t too tricky. Philipp had warned us that steering in reverse with the outboard was almost impossible, and to bear in mind that 5hp was not going to stop 2 tonnes of moving boat anywhere near as quickly as you might hope. We were also told to use the tiller when mooring, and not to try to steer with the outboard. All advice duly noted. We pulled Das Drama out by her mooring lines, without much embarrassment, and chugged sedately out of the harbour.

The plan, such as it was, had been to potter about in the bay getting the hang of the boat. I couldn’t see what could be difficult about it: we had sailed larger yachts without difficulty, but it’s true the Folkboat was a rather different sort of creature. I hoisted the sails, which I’m sure I couldn’t have managed without so many helpful comments from the helm (this was to be the pattern for the week). We tacked northwest up the sound and the wonders of the Folkboat design quickly began to reveal themselves. We had never persuaded a boat to sail so close to the wind, even though our attention to sail trimming was at best sporadic. Having satisfied ourselves that little Das Drama was going to behave herself, we began, somewhat belatedly, to wonder where we should take her. A few picturesque little ports had been recommended, but our delayed start ruled them out for the day, especially as we were, as usual, beating upwind. Poring over the chart and pilot book, (in German only) I identified the little marina at Barhöft as the best option.

Between the islands and the mainland, the water is generally shallow, and access to the ports confined to dredged channels. Although well marked, these were very, very narrow. The other difference between Das Drama and the yachts we had sailed before was the absence of a GPS with chart plotter. Being of a purist inclination (OK, saddos) we thought this would be a good navigation refresher course, and the hand bearing compass was duly dug out and pointed at a few likely landmarks. Skipper was helming, as usual, but it didn’t take me too long to remember how to use the plotter. We were unreasonably pleased with ourselves to find that, when passing the first pair of channel markers leading to Barhöft, the bearing to a nearby transmitter tower was exactly what we thought it should be. There was no way we could tack within the narrow confines of the channel, so the little outboard was lowered  and started without difficulty, and proved capable of propelling us at reasonable speed, albeit in flat water. We were getting smugger and smugger as we swiftly identified and successfully followed the transits into the port. Perhaps we should have been more wary of such hubris.

In the Baltic, it seems not to be the norm to announce your arrival in advance. If you can find a space you grab it, then go and present the Harbourmaster with your fait accompli. If he doesn’t like your choice of spot, he can always help you to move! We arrived at Barhöft at the same time as a larger (in truth, they were all larger) yacht, the Sunday Morning, crewed by a middle-aged German couple.  They watched us fail spectacularly to pick up a stern buoy. In our defence, steering the Folkboat when using the outboard was horribly imprecise, and with our inexperience we couldn’t immediately see how best to go about our task. Having the boathook handy might have been a good first step, on reflection. We tied up alongside a hammerhead (unfortunately not available to visitors) for a think. Meanwhile, Sunday Morning had picked up the buoy we had botched and was now tied up to the pontoon. Her crew, busy tidying the mooring lines, observed to me that our boat was well-named. I found this funny, and translated for the Skipper, who also laughed. Sunday Morning’s crew looked a little taken aback - I suspect she had meant to be fairly scathing. If so, it was the only time anyone we met was other than totally charming all week.  At the second attempt, a buoy was quite easily picked up and we tied up bow-to, as is the custom. (Yachts often bring a little step-stool to place on the pontoon to make getting on and off the boat less strenuous.)

Barhöft turned out to be typical of the marinas were were to visit around Rügen. The facilities were modern, simple but dazzlingly clean, mooring inexpensive, and the welcome enthusiastic. Our German was more than adequate for the situation, but there was usually at least one person eager to practice his English on us. There was rarely a choice of restaurant, but again our first evening proved prophetic: quick and friendly service, infinite patience while we translated the menu, a good choice of fresh fish, smoked and pickled herring, lots of fresh veggies and perfectly decent plonk, generally sold by the glass. This I considered to be a Good Thing, as getting back on board over the bow and then negotiating the entrance to the cockpit tent with the best part of a bottle of claret lapping at the molars could well have had embarrassing, if not catastrophic, consequences.

Planning our next move

After supper, we got the charts out to make, finally, something resembling a Plan. It was now clear to us that the places that had been suggested would involve motoring up and down narrow channels. The islands are undoubtedly pretty and worth a visit, but we were here to SAIL, and nothing could be more suited to that than a Nordic Folkboat. We therefore decided that we would head back towards our “home” port of Altefähr, stay overnight across the sound at the pretty Hanseatic port of Stralsund, then pass through the impressive swing bridge and head southeast to the relatively deep and open water of the Greifswalder Bodden bay for the rest of the week. Satisfied with this plan, we settled down for the night cosily in Das Drama's little cabin.