SAONA IS SEVENTY
We know that Saona was launched in 1936. We have a photograph of the moment when the champagne bottle burst on her bow.
The men stand solidly by in trilby, collar and tie, while the niece of the owner pulls back in dismay as the bottle she has launched becomes glass foam and spray, and the builder wishes his last boat goodbye.
The builder was Charlie Lucas and Saona was the last boat that he built in his own yard at Battery Point. The designer was Phillip Rhodes and the proud owner, Maldon Weston of Austins Ferry, must have glowed in the realisation of his dream, this modern, elegant and fast gentleman’s cruising ketch.
Jane and I were entrusted with the custody of Saona in 1993. She came to us with many stories of her past adventures. Bob Martin and Bruce and Suzanne Maddock told about her exploits, some under the command of Vice Admiral Sir Guy Wyatt and Justice Sir Peter Crisp. We heard of her “geriatric” cruise to New Zealand with a crew whose average age was 65, which seemed to us, at that time, to be improbably ancient for such adventuring.
They gave us the neck of the champagne bottle from her launch, complete with lanyard, and the photograph of that moment. But we have no date for her birthday. When did she first slip into her element? We can see that it was overcast and that the participants in the ceremony are all well dressed. Was this a cool spring launching, ready for a glorious first summer?
There was never any doubt that in 2006 we should celebrate her 70 years, but we had no firm plans. As summer gave way to autumn Jane and I enjoyed a delightful cruise around Norfolk Bay, but once again Saona’s ageing Perkins engine, which had replaced her original Ailsa Craig forty years ago, caused some anxiety.
The new 50hp Nanni was a 70th birthday present. Installing it was a winter project which, like every other boat project, developed in depth and intricacy. One thing led to another and thus to a new shaft, revised hydraulics, much new wiring, a new instrument panel and engine box, and so on. With the advice, interest and assistance of many friends the winter season was well occupied. But projects must end, and there is no better way to focus the mind and force progress than to set a date.
In mid September we sent invitations to many friends who had played some part in our life with Saona, asking them to join us at 10am on Sunday 15th October for a picnic cruise to celebrate her 70 years.
We ticked off more items on the “to do” list, thought of more that should be done, and hoped that the varnish would be dry. Final preparations included a new red saloon carpet. Jane made new red cockpit cushions.
In the last week we watched the weather anxiously. Tuesday was lovely, warm and sunny. Wednesday was 30°C with strong north westerlies driving a bushfire through Hobart suburbs. On Thursday it snowed on Mount Wellington and we collected the champagne amid cold sleet and showers. On Friday the rain lashed the windows as I lofted Phillip Rhodes’ lines onto three of Jane’s large ginger cakes, iced them and applied the spars.
The sun appeared on Saturday as Jane made an acre of sushi and arranged for the oysters. But a cold front was due that night, bringing rain and wind. We moved Saona to a more sheltered berth in the marina.
Sunday morning dawned a bit windy but the racing clouds were high. Dressing ship was fun in the breeze.
Boats and people began to arrive. Flags and wet weather gear gave colour to the scene, as did children in brilliant hats. The Saona cake was supplemented by another onto which John and Barbara had copied a photo of her under sail.
More than 60 people joined the celebration. Yarns were swapped and the star of the show was open for inspection. It seemed for a while that we would be spared the rain, but it came in time to ensure that my few words were kept short. I waved my arms and thanked our many friends and helpers. Special mention for Jane who became my best friend when Saona was a mere 26 years old, and who told me when I was 40 that I could have another girlfriend so long as she had at least 4 tons of lead in her bottom.
Then we toasted Saona’s health for her next 70 years. Jane cut the cake and we announced that while the original plan for a picnic on Snake Island was not viable in a 20 knot south westerly, we would head due east for the sheltered Duckpond in Barnes Bay.
Twelve boats set off across the Channel, many with bunting streaming forward. George’s fishing boat, Amanda J, was adorned with children climbing the rigging like a barrow load of monkeys as even she rolled in the swell.
Arriving at the Duckpond boats rafted up as the squalls of rain made it clear that there would be no rug-on-the-grass picnic ashore. Saona was rafted with Amanda J, Gulls Way, Jezebel, Apache and Aranjee.
Meanwhile Diomede, Brolga, Sotalia, Matsu. New Zealand Maid, Triddar and Baudin anchored individually or in more sensible rafts. There was some dinghy movement between boats and rafts as the morning’s champagne, oysters and sushi was followed by more substantial fare, but the squally weather kept most people below decks where hard boiled eggs, quiche of every description, chicken and much else beside is said to have been washed down with numerous bottles of red, white and brown.
But the weather was not to be so easily ignored. Gradually the south westerly shifted more to drive more rain from the south, a direction from which we were less protected. There was a brief interlude in the cheerful camaraderie when first one, and then another of the more pessimistic gender aboard our raft claimed that we were dragging our two anchors. The skippers were all comfortably settled and such inconvenient intrusions had little effect until one of the alarmists called out “If you bloody men want to loose your boats, just stay where you are!”
No spitfire squadron scrambled more rapidly.
Lines were cast off and commands given as boats peeled away in various states of order. Like cockatoos disturbed from a tree, they wheeled and reassembled in smaller rafts, perhaps with more chain this time. But before long the decks were clear and various feasts were resumed in cosy cabins, while another squall raked the Duckpond.
Soon it was time for coffee and Saona cake for those who were within reach. Then Saona raised her anchor and circled the fleet, thanking the intrepid souls who had come to share her day, before heading for home.
The fleet followed and some sails were set close hauled into the strong and squally breeze which streamed out of Kettering.
Now the sun came out and the sky returned to blue.
Many hands took lines in marina berths. Bunting was lowered and boats were snugged down. Eskies with scant remains were trudged back to car boots. Sail covers on and hatches closed. “We’ll bring the vacuum cleaner down tomorrow to get the crisps and cake crumbs out of the new red carpet.”
Saona’s seventy years had been well and truly celebrated and, as some wag commented, “The old girl always did like a bit of weather.” It had been a good day.
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