The wind howls through the rigging, gusting to 28knots. Shouts before 7am from a nearby yacht woke me, as a shirtless middle-aged man struggles to retrieve his dragging chain and anchor. The wind blows him precariously towards a moored yacht at a frightful pace. I guess she’s a twin keeled yacht judging by her drift rate and now totally at the mercy of wind and tide. His shipmate manages to get the engine running and struggles, only just in time, to get their yacht heading back into wind and away from what seemed an inevitable collision. He retrieves the last of the chain and his plough anchor has a garden of weed trailing from it. I’m not sure he saw the weed, as he’s standing braced way back from the bow. A second attempt to anchor fails quickly. Again he struggles, red-faced to retrieve by hand some 20 meters of line and chain. As he motors past me to find better holding I smile in sympathy and hail ‘Weed’. He kneels down and looks over the bow and gives me the thumbs up at his anchor completely hidden in weed. He anchors way up the creek in quieter waters.
Bacon and eggs and a half pint of milky coffee set me straight and give me time to ponder my first hold-up. Looking back, three pre-voyage demons have been beaten – Portland, Lyme Bay and Start Point. A real confidence boost in terms of proving my seamanship and navigational skills but also a growing faith in Equinox’s ability to take it on.
The met doesn’t inspire me with confidence. Maybe I’ll be here for some time........
A beer run ashore will raise spirits! Any excuse....!
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