Igla 410 • Sailing Poole Harbour

For the last fortnight the Wessex skies have been clear, and warm winds have blown from the east. After six months in the garage I finally get round to taking the Igla for a day out. Hard to believe I’ve only been out in the Zelgear IK once in mid-winter.
A closer look at the south side of Poole Harbour is the plan, and a 25-minute drive drops me off just before the Sandbanks ferry inlet which we crossed last year in packrafts.

The tide was inbound and the forecast 13mph from the east, rising later and with gusts predicted at twice that according to some sources. Ideal for some downwind sailing action! The plan was to explore as much of the Harbour’s southern shore as wind, curiosity, energy and draught would allow.

The 0.25 bar hull has been inflated for six months and lost a little pressure. I’d fully deflated the removable 0.5 bar DS floor and refitting it, decided a quick squirt of **303** anti-UV lube underneath and on the ‘horns’ would help it slide snugly into the correct position.

I sawed off a bit of **12cm drainpipe** to make a bigger footrest tube for my bigger feet. (Original Zelgear footrest tube on the right).

I also found a way to fit my packraft ‘transverse bowsprit’ using ever handy Rovaflex straps.

It’s only a two-minute carry through the trees from road to beach, but requires passing through the ‘TPZ’ or toilet paper zone.

I drop my lunch into the boat. It’s going to be a hot paddle. At the back, Brownsea Island.

Oo-er, the Igla (‘Needle’) feels a tad wobbly, but then it’s an IK not a packraft. I deflate the seat with the handy twist-valve tube until I’m just resting on the DS floor. That’s better and once hooked into the cushy knee straps I feel secure and snug. The Igla’s seat is by far the most comfortable IK seat I’ve tried. It doesn’t have to be complicated or heavy.

Like a migrating gannet, I venture forth in search of the wind.

I glide past the southern cliffs of Green Island. Signs discourage landing. Nearby chaps are doing tight circles in small dinghies, dredging or fishing for something. Not knowing the landmarks yet, I keep having to refer to my Garmin’s OS map to go the right way.

Right now I’m reading We, the Navigators; The Ancient Art of Landfinding in the Pacific by David Lewis (1972, open source pdf). In it he explains how Oceania (or Micronesia, Melanesia and Polynesia) were populated by intrepid Asian seafarers – contrary to what the famous Kon Tiki expedition sought to prove. Some had mastered the art of navigating hundreds of miles of open Pacific without any kind of instruments, memorising instead a combination of stars (rising and setting points were like compass bearings) as well as prevailing winds and waves, refracted swells from unseen islands and unseen currents (flying fish always jump down-current; fyi). Travelling with the incredulous author, after days at sea aged South Sea navigators regularly found a tiny pin-prick of an island bang on time.
It’s a fascinating topic but the book focuses purely on the techniques, rather than the adventures they all clearly shared for months. David Lewis’s earlier book, Daughters of the Wind (catamaran from UK to NZ via Cape Horn with young family) may be a more engaging read, and was a voyage on which Lewis practised the instrument and chart-free techniques he later documented in the Navigators.

It’s blowing nowhere near 13mph and when the wind drops or I turn off it, one twist of the sail and it tucks easily under a foot, ready for redeployment in seconds. The system works very well.

We cycled a trail along the southern shore the other day, branching up to the harbour at a cottage on Ower Bay. From there I couldn’t work out what the wooded island was to the NW. Turns out it’s the south end of Round Island. Sgurr nan Cruinn, that might be in Gaelic.

I rounded the southern end of Round Island, passing more dinghymen doing full-lock burn-outs. There’s the long jetty as shown on maps. On the left the mainland shore of Arne.

I ride up past Shipstal Point, one of the few points where footpaths reach the sea. A couple of SoT’s are beached up ahead, including a Sandbanks Style Optimal which I tested here a couple of years back. They’re going to have a rum old haul eastwards back to Sandbanks against the rising wind.

I’m not wearing my glasses so don’t see the low spit of Patchams Point until I’m right on it.
I have to turn east into the wind to get round it, scattering Oyster Catchers as I go. The taut Igla responds well.

I pull over to inspect that state of regeneration and other incisive environmental initiatives. Soon I’ll pass Russel Quay where we put in the packraft the other day. I’m hoping for a good run with the wind towards the Frome river mouth.

I get it but it’s not the high speed thrill I was hoping for. Plus it’s blowing me west, when I need to be going southwest. One flaw with my bowsprit idea is the lack of slack reduces the angle you can pull the WindPaddle to steer off the wind, especially when it’s not very strong.

The wind picks up, or get its fetch on at the downwind end of the Harbour. I’ve squeezed all the west i could from the wind and must now turn south. So I stow the sail and paddle a crosswind pushing me towards ancient stakes and into the reeds.

I follow a boat into the hidden river mouth and, with the wind now up to 20mph, I can sail a lot of the river’s meanders the two miles west to Wareham Quay.

With the wind whistling through the rigging, I hear a ‘Bloody hell, wow…’. It’s a moored boater expressing surprise as my kayak sails by as close to the 4-knot limit. I learned a new sailing trick: to micro steer the boat drag a left hand in the water to bring the bow round to the left. It worked well zig-zaging up the Frome.

Like a Polynesian master navigator, after my ten-mile traverse of the Harbour, I sail right up to the Quay…

.. casually hop out, and look around for my taxi.

IK or packraft, I wonder to myself. Environment or geography (as well as intended use) help define the best suited packboat. My TXL would have managed this outing fine, if a tad slower, but it sure is nice when the Igla slices through the water, either under sail or into the wind. The problem in this corner of Dorset is, once one tires of noisy, busy, drab but safe Poole Harbour, apart from Swanage (below), getting the inflated 17kg IK down to the exposed Jurassic Coast in suitable conditions is a bit of a faff, even with wheels, let alone getting back out and closing the loop with cars in place. You may as well use hardshells. That’s why I chose the long but still light TXL packraft.
Down here I’m not straying out to islands where speed and efficiency are important. For plain old calm-weather mainland coast hugging, a large packraft does the job and enables public transport, an easy scramble ashore followed by a walk back. But for an effortless coastal tour with plenty of room for two, the Igla has its benefits. It’ll easily paddle at 8kph on a breeze too light to hold up a sail and that’s an extra 30% more speed or so less sustained effort over a few hours.