Padstow - but only just!

Decided to make best use of the NNW wind to strike for Padstow some 68NM away. I crept out of New Grimsby Sound at 5:15am and hit a rough patch almost immediately. The wind had a real chill to it and I was glad I had dressed in full offshore kit. I aimed to go north of the Seven Stones but the tide and less westerly wind forced me south of them. Good progress was made although a passing tanker nearly swamped me with its wash - although expected, the size of it came as quite a shock. Little did I know it, but I think the very vicious movements caused my 100lt fresh water bladder to rupture and the entire contents spread through the Starboard side lockers - a bit of a design fault I feel. When within 5 miles of the North West of the Longships the wind swung round to the NE – bang on my nose and dropped from 14k to 9-10K. SOG fell to a mere 4knots as the tide was hostile for an hour before turning fair. In that hour I was pushed back to within a stones throw of the Longships and resorted to the engine. I don’t do backwards!
  The wind remained stubbornly from the N and NE although on occasions it shifted back to NNW allowing for engineless progress under canvas; it was hard going. Yet again, the Raymarine ST2000 autohelm couldn’t cope, so the forearms took a second pummelling. The seas seem particularly steep and short with inevitable packets of aft-flying spay a penalty. I’m now a world class ducker! Once you’ve been hit in the face with a bucket of cold seawater and cleaned your sunglasses and replaced neck-towels and hats you learn quickly! The wind fell to a slovenly 7 knots as I passed Newquay and again the iron topsail was asked to due its duty. Trevose head was just visible but hours of motoring remained. In fast dying light sanctuary in the Camel Estuary, with two fishing boats to keep me company, was huge relief. I radioed ahead to check the lock for the inner harbour was still open. Hurry was the message. The faithful Yanmar was given another full throttle thrashing, as I was by now dead on my feet; and would have struggled to make a mooring decision in a fast-drying estuary, had I not made it in time. The gate lifted within minutes of me passing through and a wonderful harbour master took my lines after first directing and then coaxing me to my quayside berth. I had barely enough energy left to stand. Going below to open a ‘cold one’ I opened the under sink locker to trash the bottle only to find fresh water 6 inches deep and with it all my gash - floating - nice!
  The shere quantity momentarily confused me until I checked the water bladder in the forepeak locker - all but empty! Mystery solved; and not for the first time has this happened to me. The Plastimo water bags are not nearly man enough, I feel. Also, for fellow Crabber owners, to ponder upon, why are all the lockers connected? Bloody silly! Flood one, flood them all!
  By then some five minutes later, the Harbourmaster had returned with a sheet of paper with everything a dog-tired sailor needs – combinations to gain entry to the shower, lavatory and laundry rooms, free WiiFi password, and useful local numbers. He then turned on my shore power too. I could not have asked for more; and all done with such grace and professionalism. Three cheers for Padstow Harbourmasters, I say!
  So began two hours of sorting tins, many without labels. So it’s possibly Baxter’s spicy parsnip soup and Ambrosia rice pudding for supper tomorrow! The combinations, in future, should not prove too repetitive! All my pasta, rice, cereals and biscuits have filled two carrier bags and space in the quayside skip!
  Bed at last 1:10am; after a marmite sandwich and two more Speckled Hens. What a day!