Schull to Glandore Cruise in Company, August 2025.
Written by Richard Bardburn
“A cruise,” they said. “In company,” they said. “It’s not a race,” they said. “There won’t be enough wind,” they said. “It’ll be four hours,” they said. And possibly the most pernicious statement of all: “We’ve sorted a handicap system so that all the boats will arrive in Glandore at roughly the same time,” they said.
Yeah, rrrright.
So the event started off pleasantly enough: for me, a leisurely cruise from Baltimore to Schull with Tim and Aisling Forde on the good ship Ainu, a following breeze, spectacular sparkling blue seas, heat in the sun. As we came into the harbour we recognised Glandore and Union Hall boats already moored, familiar faces on board, a real sense of excitement and camaraderie mounting. Pints in Hacketts, a super meal in the Hotel, and all safely back to the moorings to have a good sleep in the flat-calm, star-lit harbour.
Even first thing in the morning everything looked rosy. Enough breeze to fill the sails, blue seas, banter over channel 68. The wisest thing to have done at that point would be to go back to the moorings and spend a long weekend in Schull, eating and drinking and doing the crossword while working on our tans. But oh no, they wanted their “cruise in company” …
Let me explode the fallacies we were sold, one by one.
“A cruise,” they said. “It’s not a race,” they said. It seemed like some people didn’t read this part of the cruise instructions. One boat was heading out to sea as we arrived, with their crew of elite young and fit dragon sailors on board, “I’ve never put the spinnaker up before – just going to see if it works.” Yeah, OK, Diarmuid, we believe you.
“In company,” they said. About an hour into the race Solan Goose shot past us (see “handicap issues”). Her sails disappeared over the horizon — Peter had obviously left his wallet in the Scillies. Faster boats disappeared ahead, slower boats also disappeared ahead, with their engines on. For much of the day we were all alone, with a few porpoises and a seal the only spectators. So much for the “in company.”
“It’ll be four hours,” they said. I don’t know if this was calculated using the Gregorian calendar and a sextant, but Schull to Glandore in the teeth of a Force 6 easterly and against a full tide takes 10 hours, ladies and gentlemen. Ask me how I know. Three young people actually had real jobs to go to, and had to be transferred from Kyachtic to a rib run by the Barrett Offshore Taxi Service at the Stags. The transfer was … exciting, shall we say?
“There won’t be enough wind,” they said. “Five or six knots max.” I’d been telling everyone for a week that there was likely to be quite a bit of wind. Perhaps squib sailors use far better forecast apps than dragon sailors (this actually explains quite a lot, especially when your usual race officer is a dragon sailor). Anyhow, no one listened to me (“It’s only Bradburn, he doesn’t know jack about sailing”). Well, as we heeled over with the gunnels in the water, wondering if we had closed all the windows tightly enough down below, 29-knot gusts howling down between the Kedges and the mainland, with a two-meter swell breaking over the bows, I considered whether “I bloody told you” would be allowed put on my gravestone.
“There’s a handicap system, so we’ll all end up in Glandore at the same time.” This was the biggest porky of the lot. We arrived the same day as Solan Goose, but that’s about it.
We’ll take our small victories. We were the first boat to Gascanane Rock. We did make it all the way back under sail (I would have put the engine on but Tim was sitting on the key and refused to stand up). And we look forward to next year’s event: I have written the S.I.s in advance.
A cruise in company from Union Hall to Glandore, Union Hall mark to port, and finish; all boats connected bow-to-stern with a hefty bit of bungee, Solan Goose to be required to trail an anchor and forty meters of one-inch chain off the stern, weather- (plus twenty degrees, full sun) and wind- (no more than 10 knots, westerly) dependent. See you all then!
- A story submitted to Irish Sailing by Glandore Harbour YC