Clear water in Neyland Marina gave me the chance to have a closer look at Equinox’s hull and prop from the pontoon. Not good! I’ve never seen her hull so fouled with billions of 3-4inch strands of very fine hair-like weed, despite the mullet grazing on it almost continuously. Barnacles cluster on the props brass hub and the first third of each blade. I have no choice but to address this, as the engine gives little more than three knots before the prop starts cavitating – making manoeuvring in a marina difficult and certainly not enough oomph to tackle some of the obstacles on the Welsh coast ahead. Looking at the charts, Dale looked ideal. A shingle beech and excellent facilities at the nearby yacht club, a local pub and anchorage with plenty of visitors buoys; made it an easy choice.
A dreary drizzle set in as I left Neyland under sail, the 8nm sail took 4 hours, hampered by the garden I was dragging and variable to light winds coming from every direction as it bounced off the mighty tankers moored along mile after mile of Milford Haven’s numerous jetties. Halfway there and having just put a tack in, a powerful rib screamed out from under a concrete jetty and its wetsuit clad helmsman politely scolded me for getting within 100m of a gas terminal jetty, the bearded Duke of York look-alike, relaying the harbour master’s displeasure! Sorry your Royal Highness, it won’t happen again!
Arriving at Dale, two hours after high tide I quickly put on her beeching legs and motored cautiously towards the beech. Crunch! Landed! A kedge anchor lowered from the stern, some 80ft before grounding will hopefully help me haul her off later on or, prevent me being nudged further up the beech by wind and waves, if the weather deteriorates.
Eight hours of scrapping and scouring later and near exhaustion, I slumped into bed, hungry, rather evil smelling and itchy from being salty and wet; despite wearing wadders. Setting the alarm for 2:30 I dozed fitfully as Equinox had dried out at a jaunty angle and I need horizontal!
Silencing the alarm and boxer clad only with Equinox gently grinding on the shingle I left the warmth of my sleeping bag to face the drizzle and surprisingly warm wind to relocate her. Engine running, I hauled in the kedge, carried it up to the bow and tied it on; then motored out to an empty spot in the anchorage dumped the whole lot over the side while reversing. With anchor set and it’s GPS alarm on, I towelled down and crawled back into bed; warmer and less salty than before I started this odious task.
I slept well knowing it was a job well done! I can safley tackle the next leg to Fishguard – around Skomer Island, St Brides Bay and the Bishops and Clerks and Saint David’s head. There are shortcuts that could save many hours......but... I’m not sure I’m brave or experienced enough to take them on unaccompanied.
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