Salcombe already!

You find me anchored at Frogmore Creek, after a better-than-expected meal at Captain Flint’s in Salcombe following three splendid sailing days. It's Wednesday 8t June. Salcombe is just like Oxford Street in miniature – shop after shop offering Fat Face, Musto and other ‘have-to-be-seen-in’ brands. The place feels rather sordid and unexpectantly quiet, most eating places are closed. On entry, you'e greeted by wall-to-wall moorings as far as the eye can see, with little room for sailing, it seems, let alone racing. Rather amazed and saddened by how much it’s changed since I was last here 12 years ago. The Harbour Master is brilliant though, welcoming and helpful. Plying me with ideas, maps and tokens for showers and advice as to where to anchor, bearing mind the expected blow from the NE imminently.
I digress, having lunched with my sister and mother in Studland Bay, on Monday, I set sail for Lulworth Cove, a delightful sheltered cove some 17 miles west of Studland. The tiny entrance is well disguised and on entering I found only one visiting yacht; and, as custom dictates, I moored on her bow. Rain it did, on and off heavily; which, together with quite a swell made for a rather uncomfortable and sleepless night. With visibility down to 200 yards and despitet more heavy rain and mist I set off at 7:30 am to cover the daunting distance past Portland Bill and across Lyme Bay to Brixham – some 70nm. To start with, I grazed some unexpected rocks a mile or two after leaving Lulwoth and kicked myself for making a simple GPS waypoint mistake. Once calmed, I settled down to a splendid although horizon-free sail into the gloom in a F4+ gusting 5.

Portland Bill was awesome; I took the northern route past The Shambles and in what seemed hairy conditions shot through the gap within hailing distance of the lighthouse. The event heightened by a RNLI lifeboat honking past me within 200 yards and a ASR helicopter whizzing around mere feet above me in two swooping passes before dropping a soul via tether into the lifeboat –as if one didn’t have enough distractions in such poor conditions! A large 60ft yacht with a French Flag at the stern made very heavy weather of Portland; her size hampering her progress.Greenies over her crew, poor souls! Equinox however, bobbed like a cork and ate up the three miles of rough.

Arriving at Brixham, I was first given a berth fit for a 15ft speedboat, rejecting it by radio, I was given a better slot but seemingly miles from anywhere. By the time I got ashore Brixham had closed! 9:30! The Poopdeck, came to my rescue. Welcoming me, even though final orders had long passed, they saw I was desperate and gave me one of the best fish meals of my life. Huzzay thrice, I say! I don’t recall my head hitting the pillow. Fish and wined to the gills!

Shower and laundry completed by 7am, in the new facilities; which are first class, Salcombe beckons. Little or no wind to begin with but soon a bracing broad reach and 8 knots SOG I made the Skerries in no time, which, I addressed from the North, then Start Point, with it’s magnificent lighthouse and finally a fantastic run topped off a glorious 'balls out' run into Salcombe just before the wind died. Dartmouth looked spectacular from the sea, I just wished I had more time to pause.

A peacful night beckons with the first spots of rain falling gently, as the mullet splash hunting around me. The shore lined wth a parliment of herons fishing in fast-falling tidal shallows. Maybe it is as I remember it, after all. Bliss!