Aber to Pwllheli – July 19th

Pronounced Pa-thel-ee, this World Heritage site, is where you find me, after a rather frustrating wait for the flood tide to deliver sufficient water into Aber harbour to make good my escape which, eventually it did at 11:40. Even so, a momentarily gravelly kiss in the narrow channel before turning hard to starboard at the end of the wooden jetty and then holding a recommended course of 310deg; alluded to my unbridled enthusiasm to get on the move again. The depth alarm continued to keep up its annoying warning, that less than a meter of water was under the keel. Stopping for a second or two each time Equinox lifted to the incoming swell – a residue of the previous day’s storms; then expecting each plunge to culminate in a gravelly thump; which, thankfully never happened. Eventually silenced and when well away from ‘The Trap’ and the nearby pier head perils, turned Equinox into the wind, quickly hoisted the mainsail, killed the engine and while still turning back on course, let fly the staysail and gib; sheeting them in quickly to do their duty. Done well, this looks impressive; and I knew some of the other crews were watching, as we had exchanged goodbyes on the way out! Joy of Joys, my demonstration of solo seamanship was executed to near perfection and Equinox with all three sails drum tight, first heeled then rocketed forward with the help of a following sea and 18 knots of wind, foam creaming down her lee side up the rails. Her tan sails and dark hull must have looked stunning in the sun, contrasted by dark storm clouds coming in from the SW over a grey green sea covered with white caps. Just time for a final wave and one last lingering look at the brightly multi-coloured sea front houses, ruins, monument and Funicular Railway before refocusing on the lengthy passage ahead. Had I made amends for my rather chaotic arrival days before? I doubt it; they bear grudges around here!   
   Cardigan and Tremadog Bays offer numerous options for the sailor; with Sarn Badrig (St Patrick’s Causeway) by far the largest and most intimidating obstacle, separating the two. In addition, there’s Sarn Cynfelyn, Sarn Wallog and The Patches together with Sarn-y-Bwch. All jut out, often miles, into the sea and remain hidden during most of the tidal range. As such, they’re a worthy adversary for a solo yachtsman, still a little shaken from his Aber experiences! With the wind predicted to be a SW’ly my chosen route was to go through the middle of ‘The Patches in the main channel then West of the second obstacle and then take the East Passage close to the shore; hopefully avoiding the Bemar Bank and so crossing the final and biggest hurdle - St Patrick’s Causeway. Shoals, banks and ridges add to the fun as did the weather forecast which correctly predicted heavy rain with accompanying visibility restrictions. Rain, if you have the right kit is an inconvenience not an obstacle. Wind is; and as I nervously threaded my way along the Main Channel of the Patches, just 5 miles NE of Aber, so it picked up. A reef was called for, to reduce weather helm; which no sooner executed became almost redundant, as the wind further increased and backed to a southerly – near gale! A second reef stabilised matters and some wonderful drizzly sailing enjoyed; other than for my blow-up tender to repeatedly surf into my transom with an unnerving bump, followed by a rubbery twang as the painter was snatched tight on the ricochet! Drizzle steadily turned to rain which increased still further to flatten the sea. Buckets of it streamed off the mainsail and much of it blew into the cabin as the hatch had to remain open to see the chart plotter’s screen and to fix a 30 minute plot on the chart under the Yeoman plotter’s plastic protective overlay – the cabin sole soon awash and slippery.
   With the wind now gusting F6, I opted to change my passage plan and go to the West of St Patrick’s Causeway; plotting a new course to The Causeway’s Cardinal Bouy with its accompanying bell. This more westerly route stopped to great extent the awful rolling you experience on a run; where the foresails are back-winded and largely useless. Boat speed increased to 7.1 knots and confirmed on the GPS. Progress indeed for a Crabber! As I rounded the Cardinal and set a course for the buoy marking the Gimblet Shoals, the rain increased further, were it possible! I’ve seen rain like this before in Malaysia but rarely here. The cabin sole floorboard started lifting on the inch of water in the cabin, any higher than that, the water flows through two drain holes into the bilge. A pump was in order and the cabin hand pump cranked 21 times before it whistled! With the two headsails furled, as we were on a dead run, we stormed past The Shoals, guarding the entrance to the harbour and with visibility down to a few hundred yards sought out Pwllhei. When found and with engine started, we turned into wind, dropped the Main and stowed it reasonably neatly, considering the awful conditions.
   I called Holyhead Marina and told them I had arrived. It was 18:30and I was 30 minutes later than my estimated arrival time, not too shabby after 38nm, I thought.
  Motoring against a strong current in a channel barely wide enough for two boats to pass one another, sought out the berth given that morning on the phone, after first fendering up the starboard side and making ready the mooring warps’. The Marina, on first inspection, is huge, brim full of boats of all sizes and in a very good state of repair. Finding it, I spun around to face the weather and prepared to dock. From nowhere a young man in his 20’s T shirt, shorts and bare feet appeared and took my lines; tying me on with well rehearsed expertise.
   ‘Come form far’, he asked, with a Scandinavian accent?
   'Yes quite', I said, puffing myself up with pride, ‘from Aberystwyth... and you’?
    We’re both from Norway; he said... we’re sailing around the world. Scilly Isles tonight, I think or, maybe just go straight to Madeira......depends on my girlfriend really, she’s the skipper; and she’s had enough of the rain and is working on the charts now!
    The loudest noise in the marina was my ego deflating.
    Sure enough they slipped their mooring around 10pm, a row of plastic water casks securely strapped to their guardrail, in a boat not a lot larger than Equinox, but very purposeful.
   A cheery wave and they were gone....Well I’ll be damned!
  
The rain continues unabated, the water flowing past equinox carrying detritus washed down from the hills by the much swollen River Erch. A small half feathered chicken momentary hangs up on the dinghy’s painter, before the current moves it on.
   I carry on the job of cleaning up and drying out. Equnox’s heater, full on, has turned the cabin into a warm but damp fug. Bacon, sausage and eggs with a Speckled Hen, or two, will come later, the reward for getting us back in good order.