My name is Bob Jollands and in 1958 I was working with a friend of Jack Cox, the owner of Atalanta, who, after finding that I was a keen sailor, arranged for me to join Jack’s crew aboard the 40 footer which was moored bow on to the concrete wave screen, secured to four pile moorings, in the boat harbour in front of the Royal Port Nicholson Yacht Club, for the weekly Saturday races.
Atalanta had a Bermudan rig, no safety rails and no motor so when I joined Jack and the crew on the first Saturday aboard her, I learned that we had to manoeuvre her, reversing out of the mooring and raise the sails to sail her out of the marina to join the fleet that included Mata Atua, Queen Charlotte and five other keelers.
The racing was very competitive and we frequently finished first or second with Mata Atua in close company behind or ahead of us.
The spinnaker pole was a solid piece of timber which took two of us to lift into place to set the sail.
The crew consisted of Jack as skipper and three crewmen, including myself, a character who was a newly qualified solicitor and Chris Harris.
There was a ZC1 radio fitted into the cabin to provide communications with the yacht club race tower, which broadcast the communications from Atalanta into the club lounge for club members to follow the race. At one point, Jack asked me to give a commentary on where we were on the harbour and what the placings of the fleet were. So I began by explaining that we were heading north from Evans Bay and that they would see us shortly emerging past Point Jerningham. That was a big mistake, when in fact we were still well south and in Evans Bay. The problem was that I could not see out, so I gave up at that stage and went up on deck to “retire” from being the race commentator.
When the annual “crew race” was held, I was given the honour to helm the boat and with instructions from Jack, it was my first ever win.
Returning to the mooring was a feat of seamanship. Particularly in a strong southerly that required some deft work on the part of the crew, with the timing called by Jack, and involved entering the boat harbour and immediately making a 180 degree turn, drop both jib and main sails to drift along the fairway to the berth which was about half way along the wave screen, turn 90 degrees into the berth and catch the mooring lines off the mooring poles and anchor them to the cleats to ensure that the boat came to a stop before hitting the concrete wave screen.
Occasionally, Jack loaned me to crew for Pat Miller to serve as sheet hand, racing in his X class, where I first learned to use a trapeze and to trim and tack the main sail. Pat, a multiple winner of the Sanders cup, was an amazing skipper who could not swim and I recall one time in a strong southerly when we were reaching from Point Halswell to Point Jerningham with the forward hand and me on trapezes, the bow wave was washing over our legs and then straight into Pat’s eyes, which he kept closed, so the forward hand was calling directions to keep him on course as we planed through the water.
Some other memories from those days include an accident between Queen Charlotte and Ruawaka at the head of Evans Bay when the mast of Ruawaka dipped between the two masts of Queen Charlotte which damaged both boats. Fortunately, no one was badly injured, but we returned to the marina and went aboard the large launch owned by the McAlister’s, that was moored in the marina and went out to help sort out the damage and tow the boats back to the marina.
Even in those days, mind games came into play in the close racing and one day, as we approached the finish, neck and neck with Mata Atua, who was to windward of us with her main sail hanging over our deck where our solicitor crewman was lying, he called out to Brian Miller, the skipper of Mata Atua, telling him that if he reached up and touched his boom, Mata Atua would be disqualified. Well Brian really lost it and entered into a shouting match with our crewman so with his inattention to sailing his boat, we crept ahead to finish first!
Being the youngest in the crew, it seemed that it was my role to go up the mast when any work was required up there, using a Bosun’s chair, a canvas seat that fitted a man’s buttocks and in that year’s Island Bay race, we were passing Barrett’s Reef on the return leg, heading into a strong northerly, when the main sail split from luff to leach and I was sent up the mast to retrieve the jammed sail head board, which I did, but without any safety line or bosuns’ chair and just hanging on to the stays and walking up the mast which was healing at 30 to 40 degrees! The job was successfully accomplished and we managed to clear the reef under headsail and were finally towed in by another vessel.
I spent the full season sailing on Atalanta and the following season, the crewman that I replaced, decided to return to crew aboard Atalanta and I was out of a job.
The crewman had left previously because he suffered bad seasickness and hoped that he would cope with it. One of the ways they tried to alleviate it was to give him a cup to bail out the bilge, to take his mind off his problem!
The experience was really enjoyable and this was not just the sailing and learning, but the wonderful fellowship amongst the crews, especially at the RPNYC where regular social occasions were organised, one of which was a regular evening of indoor bowling.
Amongst the crews at that time was a wife, Mrs P. Parson who sketched pencil portraits of some of us at the club and I have one of myself that she did in July 1958.
*some of the drawings by Mrs Parson can still be seen at the Clubhouse, and also here
**more information on Atalanta is everywhere, but here is a start
