Our 38ft schooner is named Iracunda — and the story behind that name is really a tribute to Maurice Griffiths, the man who helped shape her design.
How I came to know Maurice
Maurice Griffiths was the editor of Yachting Monthly from the 1960s onward, responsible for the magazine's designs for small boats that could be built in a garage and towed behind a family car — among them the YM Eventide, which is still sailed today, with plans still available through the Eventide Owners Association.
I was secretary of the Eventide Owners Association for a time, and I owned an Eventide called Sigurd Syr, built by Phil Sheaf, who was Maurice's friend and plans agent. I told Phil how I'd learned to sail on a Maurice Griffiths boat called Veterata — that got me an invitation to tea, and a set of his books, signed.
Afternoons in West Mersea
I had many lovely afternoon chats with Maurice in his bungalow on West Mersea Island. During one of those conversations we talked about my own boat — how, although she was an Eventide, a natural curve had been allowed to take shape in the building moulds, making her 27 feet 3 inches long overall, which made her fast and very sea-kindly.
As most boat owners will tell you, once you've owned a boat there's always the dream boat: six inches longer, a different galley, a bit more headroom, and the list goes on.
Designing Iracunda
It was a fairly dismal day, not long after Maurice had broken his ankle, when I told him I wanted a bigger boat. That started some heated arguments about the ideal size for short-handed sailing, where she'd be kept, and which waters I'd cruise — but out of it, I convinced Maurice I wanted at least 32 feet, shallow draft, because I still love the waters of the east coast of England. I didn't yet know if I wanted a centre plate or bilge keels, but I knew she had to be long-keeled and built of timber. Over several pots of tea and a few more visits, we settled on one of Maurice's Barbican designs as the starting point.
We had several conversations about rig. It had to be a working rig I could manage from the cockpit — no bouncing about on the foredeck, Maurice pointed out, gesturing at his ankle — so we looked at a gaff rig first. It still wasn't easy enough for me, and at that point Maurice suggested a junk rig, though he always swore that if anyone ever asked, it wasn't his idea. As with most changes, one adjustment led to another: the beam grew to 12 feet (later settled at 11 feet 5 inches), draught became 4 feet 6 inches, length 36 feet, and 600 square feet of sail area — too much for one sail, which is how we arrived at a schooner, a rig Maurice liked, though he'd have preferred a gaff schooner.
All these notes sat filed away for years, until I finally got the bug to build, and the schooner was born.
Why Iracunda
Maurice liked Latin names for boats. His own, Veterata, translates to 'sly fox' — or, because it's feminine, 'sly vixen'. I still have the nameplate in my office; it reminds me of good times. His last boat was called Kylix, which I understand is a type of shallow drinking vessel.
So I needed a name for my own ship — something unusual, and something Maurice would have liked. I chose Iracunda, which I understand means 'passionate', or in its feminine form, 'passionate woman'. Someone better educated than me may yet tell me it actually means something else entirely — I hope I'm right and they're wrong.
I've been asked why this name. It's for the women in my life: my sisters, my aunt, my grandmother who brought me up, and those lovely ladies I have yet to dance with.
