Sailmaking is something to which I have dedicated not even one second’s thought. Rather like I have never particularly wondered or cared how windscreen wipers or cotton buds are made, sails were simply ‘there’ for me, happily flapping away on their masts.
So when The Islander’s jefe sent me to 35-year-established globally-famous OneSails, I decided I should mug up.
Fortunately OneSails Palma’s Director, Peter Bresnan, had written a piece in the May issue of The Islander entitled “Kick off the New Sailing Season Tight with some Standard Sail Checks”. I read start to finish. Peter waxed lyrical about the leech, foot and luff lines, none of which made an iota of sense, so I closed the magazine and headed to the Marratxi-based loft (sailmakers don’t work in ‘units’ or ‘warehouses’, they work in ‘lofts’) absolutely none the wiser – and slightly scared.
I’ll be frank, my fears weren’t immediately put at ease. Naval Architecture graduate Peter, former IC of Artemis, a Swan 601 racing yacht, was professional and rather formal – not always the case in the laidback nautical industry. We started with a list of rules: shoes off (thank goodness I had freshly-painted pink toenails) as the floor is cleaned spotless once a week in a five-hour process and no stones or grime can be brought in from outside footwear; watch out for the three monster sewing machines sunk in purpose-built cavities (fall in a hole and you will be injured); be aware that the seam ripper stitch-removal tool is very sharp and will have your eye out if you’re daft and finally; if you cause any damage to any of the sails, don’t keep it to yourself or try to fix it, speak up and confess. This one is important as you could not only affect the performance of the sail, but also potentially put the boat and crew in danger. I pondered my tendency towards clumsiness and jumped ahead to worst-case scenario, “Peter, how much do these things cost?” I asked, “up to 100,000 euros apiece” he replied. My scared-ometer went from ‘slightly’ to ‘bricking it’.
Peter excused himself to handle some business matters and left me in the infinitely more relaxed and Mediterranean hands of Italian duo Massimo and Alessandro. Both were engrossed in sewing-based activities, Alessandro (Alé) creating a zip-close edge tape thing (something to do with the furling, I didn’t quite understand) and Massimo oiling and adjusting one of the monster sewing machines which have super-high super-long arms so you can fit fistfuls of sail underneath. It struck me how unusual (and nice) it was to see male seamstresses. I made a mental note to bring in my mending pile next time.
Alé set me task number one, to unsew 15 metres-worth of edge tape on a sail belonging to a 42-foot yacht, in readiness for his zip-close replacement. He handed me the deadly stitch-removal gizmo and, with Peter’s “up to 100,000 euros” ringing in my ears, I asked “Is there any way I can really damage this sail if I mis-spike my seam ripper?” “No” was the answer, so I set to work.
It was strangely therapeutic, shoes off peacefully removing thread, shuffling on my bottom from metre one to metre 15. Peter came for an inspection, I promised I hadn’t damaged the sail in any way, and Alé declared that he would like my apprenticeship to last “at least a month”. I believe this was a compliment.
Up next was a square-topped main sail from a 56-foot catamaran. Fully laid out, it seemed to take up much of the loft (Peter mentioned earlier that they were outgrowing the space as modern sails got larger and larger) but we had to somehow roll it up neatly and feed it through Massimo’s machine as he carefully three-step zigzag stitched the panel joins. This is a precautionary measure as UV weakens stitching over the years, so it’s good to give it some reinforcement. Massimo let me have a go but I got school Home Ec flashbacks to woefu
lly-stitched kimonos and cushions. I didn’t want to inflict the same pain onto the beautiful sail. Panel joins fixed, our work was done.
All in all this Apprenticeship was a winner. I appreciated the potential for variety at work (in the loft or out in the marina, not just repairs but sailmaking from scratch, working on 7-foot Optimists up to racing superyachts) and the need for precision, attention to detail, manual dexterity and a technical scientific brain. Sadly OneSails Palma didn’t appreciate my lack of coffee making for the entire afternoon – but who would run the risk of spilling a hot drink on these pricey items (did I mention they could cost 100,000 euros?!).
The Apprentice – Episode Five – Sailmaker
Sarah Drane
