Oyster News 49 - Oyster Yachts

18
Flower sellers on the church steps, Guatemala
‘ I remember an early
log reading: Tamoure
terrific, M terrified’
www.oystermarine.com
I should confess at this point that what we
knew about boats 10 years ago was
embarrassingly little. Less than two years
after learning to sail we sold our house
and contents, gave away our winter
woollies and decided, on the basis of a
few RYA courses and a delivery trip with
six others, that we’d like to sail round the
world. We’ve had a steep learning curve!
Tamoure has been an excellent teacher;
strong, kindly and forgiving, though she
does like to be the centre of attention –
and doesn’t give us much time off.
When we bought her she looked a bit
forbidding. Her hull was trimmed in black
and all her canvas work was grey. In truth,
we were a little afraid of her and not quite
sure whether she was friend or foe, but
once we changed her livery to green and
gold she turned into a proper little girl and
began developing her own character. Just
like any little girl, she loves presents! She
especially likes marinas because she
understands the relationship between
breaking things and getting new ones.
There are shops where there are Marinas,
though she doesn’t always approve of the
Skipper’s fondness for trying the repair
route first.
When we arrived in New Zealand and
bought a car we were worried she might
get jealous of another form of transport, so
were careful to reassure her we needed
the car to transport those presents. That
worked! She loved the year 2000. As well
as new sails and canvas, she had her
topsides painted, and emerged from the
shed looking so stunning that she was
immediately christened the Little Princess.
Later that year she had major heart
surgery when her engine was removed and
the Skipper transformed the engine
compartment from a grimy black hole into
a gleaming white palace, trimmed in silver
(sound proofing) fit for a Princess!
With three different owners in her first six
years, not surprisingly we inherited other
people’s amendments, tweaks and addons,
but ten years down the track all the
tweaks are our own and we can blame no
one else – as we could in the early days –
if we haven’t quite got something right.
Fortunately the Skipper is mechanically
minded (and a perfectionist!) and if ever
there was a competition for taking your
Oyster apart and putting her back together
again with no bits left over, he would win
hands down! New Oysters, of course, are
perfect, but the older ladies do suffer – as
we all do! - from the ravages of time.
Right from the very beginning she has
looked after us. We set off for the Canary
Islands, in August 1993, after a four month
refit that emptied the bank account. As first
time owners, we didn’t realise that boats
gobble up funds at an alarming rate! We
also had no idea whether we’d bought the
right one, or whether we were up to
handling her. We were soon to find out! The
weather gods decided to see what we
were made of and sent us huge seas and
40-50 knot winds for days on end. We
were bashed, battered and bewildered, and
sometimes truly frightened, but Tamoure
just said, "OK, you’ve looked after me and
prettied me up all these months. I’m in
charge now…" I remember an early log
reading: "Tamoure terrific, M. terrified!"
When we left New Zealand for Tonga, after
our 18-month refit, Peter and I were a bit
rusty but not Tamoure. Twelve tough days
to windward and three gales in the first
week didn’t faze her, though on her 15th
birthday she tried to see if she could fly.
She found herself on the top of a wave
with absolutely nothing beneath her, hung
suspended for an instant, which seemed
to us like an eternity, and then dropped
like a stone on her port side. All 18 tons of
her, our home and all our worldly goods –
crash, wallop! The racing boys may do this
regularly but we try not to. I could see
water rushing past her hull ports for an
awfully long time and half expected the
whole side of the boat to split open (not
on an Oyster, of course!), but the only
damage was to our hearts which did beat
rather violently for just a moment or two!
Later that season in Tonga, she shone
again when an unexpected 65 knot ‘bomb’
ripped through our anchorage in the reeffilled
Ha’apai group. Conditions were
blizzard-like with zero visibility. The latter
was probably a blessing since it was
better not to see the shore, which by now
was far too close for comfort.