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the relaunch of
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the relaunch of
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the fleet
Not a classic was stirring, not even a sheet;
The main sails were furled 'neath their covers with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there;
The Skylark crew nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of first places danced in their heads;
When out on the deck there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my berth to see what was the matter.
Away to the companionway I flew like a match,
Climbed up the ladder and threw open the hatch.
The moon on the bay at the edge of the shore
Gave a lustre of midday to the anchorage before.
When what to my wondering eyes should glide in,
But the beautiful Baruna so long and so thin,
With a keen Aussie skipper, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than Blitzen his crewmen they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
Tommy & Nuts, Temple, Stumpy & Stretch,
Die hardened in battle, pressed on a 5-sail fetch,
They climbed to the spreaders! to the top of the mast!
Now sail away Stormy! sail away fast!"
As sailors that before the wild hurricanes fly,
When they meet with a wave, and mount to the sky,
So up to the mast head in the spinnaker they flew,
With a boat full of toys, and St Nicholas, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard overhead
The scampering of feet, wearing non-skid tread.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the Dorade vent St Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in oil skins, from his head to his foot,
And his foulies were tarnished with salt spray and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a seaman just opening his pack.
His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The bit of his pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it circled his head like a wreath.
He had a kind face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and sweet, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filling Skylark sea boots; he then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, back up the Dorade vent he rose.
He sprang onto Baruna, to his fine crew he spoke,
And away they all flew like a wisp of fog smoke.
But I heard him exclaim, sailing past Comets into space,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good race!"
BlueBird sees over 50 knots on her way between Cannes and Saint-Tropez. From a flat calm day the tempest came from nowhere and hit the classic yachts. At the height of the storm BlueBird stands by the fleet to assist the smaller yachts under sail.
The normally busy Port of Saint-Tropez under 9pm curfew during lockdown. Fifteen minutes before the restaurants were busy with diners at dinner then suddenly everyone returned home or to their boats respecting the 9pm restrictions. Will we ever see sights like this again?
Due to the global pandemic it is unclear which regattas will be able to run during 2020, or even whether travel will be possible between countries.
Whilst Skylark is Standing-By … her crew wish our friends, competitors and their families a safe, sound passage navigating challenging waters.
May we cross-tacks with you sometime soon.
Following racing during Regates Royales in Cannes the Skylark crew visited the Monaco Yacht Show to view some of the most glamorous yachts on display