Tom Cunliffe- Days Of Yore

Oil lamps and paper charts contribute much to the atmosphere on board a traditional boat

What’s the connection between paper charts and oil lamps? It’s not an association with which many readers will be familiar, but the answer is revealed at the end of this column. If you sail a traditional boat and navigate as a mariner ought to, sooner or later you will need to know, so you’d be well advised to read on.

I am writing this in my saloon with a gale of wind roaring in the rig and the anchor chain clicking as it snubs on the end of all the scope in the locker. The boat’s on the west coast of Sweden somewhere around Latitude 58º North. One hundred yards to windward is a large, rocky bluff. A safe distance astern lies a nondescript, scrubby island rejoicing in the name of Grotto; to starboard, a sandy beach is backed by forest, and away to seaward a maze of rocks and islets is keeping the waves down. Out there it’s wall-to-wall shoals with tortuous channels leading to tiny natural harbours. In any weather other than the rubbish being served right now, these represent paradise to the sort of sailor who’s had enough of palm trees swaying in the trade wind and dusky maidens blowing between his toes. Sterner beauties of all categories await up north, but the endless skerries of the coastline challenge the ship’s pilot to a point beyond the normal call of duty.

On this trip in 2017 I’ve been blessed with every navigational assistance known to modern man. There’s a full set of paper charts at the best available scale, backed up with pilotage information from the excellent Swedish Cruising Club in hard and soft copy that is without parallel in the civilised world.

Navionics vector charts shine from my Raymarine plotter and, for a mere 17 quid, I have downloaded a perfect, up-to-date set of Swedish government raster charts for the whole coast onto my iPad. If, like me, you’d like to know why we can’t do that here in Blighty, you’d better ask the UKHO.