The silence woke me at 6:15am. I’m not sure I have ever not heard nothing before! The bay so still that the only ripples in it were emanating from me moving around on the boat. A cup of tea in hand, I lay down on the damp deck and studied the sea floor 6 meters below which was alive with critters, crabs and tiny little fish. Chopping a small lump of ham off and dropping it where I could see it land, it was engulfed within seconds of hitting the bottom by crabs; being too big for the little fish who had a stab at eating it on its way down.
Cornflaked and toasted up, by 7am a slight breeze could be seen out in the Sound, so hoisted the mainsail and motored out – destination Crinan Loch. Just as I reached the bay’s entrance and almost right in front of me was a shark's fin with another slimmer one some 6 feet behind – but moving to and fro - and the two were attached! Shutting down the engine, I raced for my camera, but I must have unsettled it as by the time I had retrieved it from below, it was gone; reappearing 50 yards away, back on the surface; with just the top of it’s tail and fin above the surface again. I don’t think it was a big one, but all the same ... a whale shark! Another first!
The tide was against me for the first hour, so kept close into the shoreline; but still in 40 meters; keeping out of the worst of the flow. With the engine off, I was barely doing 2.5 knots but enjoying the bird life – they are much tamer here and allow boats to get very close before they either dive or fly off. I’ve never been a fan of binoculars on a boat. I can never get the subject to stay still enough to enjoy viewing it. But on a day like today with barely a ripple they’re a joy. An hour later on a very remote and deserted part of Jura’s coast, I saw tucked right into the shore, a sea otter lying on its back bashing something on its tummy and then chewing it as though it either tasted disgusting or it was fighting back! Another first! They’re quite a lot bigger than I had imagined.
For the first time on the whole voyage – outside the Solent of course, there were quite a few yachts out; mostly motoring south, it has to be said with no sails! Do they know something I don’t! One beautiful racing Old Gaffer with a huge gaff and mainsail with stunning white sails shot out of Crinan when it was still about 7 miles away, beating south, towards me before turning North and running for home at remarkable speed.
Crinan is busy, with plenty of moored yachts ; quite a few of which, have people on board. Obviously a sort of spaghetti junction of the Highlands, as it’s the busiest spot seen so far. Only a few miles away is the famous Gulf of Corryvreckin, with its whirlpools and dangerous tidal streams – not part of my agenda!
Tomorrow I sail up the Sound of Luing, past Scarba Island then across the Firth of Lorn and find a quiet spot on Mull for the night. I do need some more wind than today though!
It’s time to warm up some more of my homemade casserole and dig some hens out of the fridge!
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Islay to Lowmanland' Bay, Jura - 30th August
It will forever remain a mystery to me how two days can be so different. A wonderful stillness greeted me as I awoke. No tugging on mooring lines, no squeaking fenders; just complete and utterly perfect silence. I needed to catch up on missed sleep it seems, as it’s 7:00am. Late for me! Blinded by the brilliant sunshine as I ventured topside, I was staggered to see my two neighbours had departed and I hadn’t heard a thing! Showering at a nearby B&B woke me fully and without cornflaking was under sail by 8:15 helming around the Isle of Texa before heading north to Jura in a steady 6k breeze.
Last night a chaotic Indian meal at the Maharani in Port Ellen marked my final night on Islay. More like a 60’s cafe with basic and totally unpretentious fittings and decor. The food however, was excellent; the Chicken Jalfrezi and Peshwari nan particularly so. The two Indians who owned, cooked and served, seemed absurdly ill prepared for the Bank Holiday onslaught. Every one of the tables was full and there was a queue for take away meals too! Add a continuously ringing phone that was answered with .... ‘It will be at least a hour......!’ Finally a local called ‘Dave’ came to the rescue and some semblance of order was restored as the two sweating owners focused on cooking. What seemed very strange was that everyone bought their own booze; except that is for me! The owner sometimes going behind the bar to bring out a carrier bag full of cans and bottles to new arrivals!
A wonderful sail followed that took most of the day, with breathtaking views on either side of Jura Sound. I was in no rush having set my sights on Lowmanland’s Bay on Jura, so happy to drift along at 3 knots. The bay proved to be a perfect setting, secluded, empty other than for one Drascombe lugger on a swing mooring, windless and ‘The Paps’ of Jura as a backdrop – Impressive hills, the largest of which looks as though it is volcanic and had recently erupted. I though I heard a stag bellowing as dusk fell, and so still was it that I feel I could have done without the anchor. Two hens and my own stew for supper and then a wee nip of something found in Islay to keep the cold out; before falling asleep to radio 4.
It doesn't get much better than this!
Last night a chaotic Indian meal at the Maharani in Port Ellen marked my final night on Islay. More like a 60’s cafe with basic and totally unpretentious fittings and decor. The food however, was excellent; the Chicken Jalfrezi and Peshwari nan particularly so. The two Indians who owned, cooked and served, seemed absurdly ill prepared for the Bank Holiday onslaught. Every one of the tables was full and there was a queue for take away meals too! Add a continuously ringing phone that was answered with .... ‘It will be at least a hour......!’ Finally a local called ‘Dave’ came to the rescue and some semblance of order was restored as the two sweating owners focused on cooking. What seemed very strange was that everyone bought their own booze; except that is for me! The owner sometimes going behind the bar to bring out a carrier bag full of cans and bottles to new arrivals!
A wonderful sail followed that took most of the day, with breathtaking views on either side of Jura Sound. I was in no rush having set my sights on Lowmanland’s Bay on Jura, so happy to drift along at 3 knots. The bay proved to be a perfect setting, secluded, empty other than for one Drascombe lugger on a swing mooring, windless and ‘The Paps’ of Jura as a backdrop – Impressive hills, the largest of which looks as though it is volcanic and had recently erupted. I though I heard a stag bellowing as dusk fell, and so still was it that I feel I could have done without the anchor. Two hens and my own stew for supper and then a wee nip of something found in Islay to keep the cold out; before falling asleep to radio 4.
It doesn't get much better than this!
Sunday, 29 August 2010
Port Ellen - Gales and sunshine - 29th August
Another night with the wind making strenuous efforts to deprive me of sleep. Equinox again being buffeted against the pontoon, her fenders squeaking in protest and her four groaning mooring lines taking it in turn to take the strain as the wind veers this way and that. Bob Harris on R2 keeps me company, and calms my growing anxiety at being stuck again. His eclectic mix of new and old music soothing, as rarely he plays anything that grates on a restless soul. What a natioanl treasure he is.
Eventually I must have drifted off to wake in glorious sunshine, but with a bitingly cold wind, gusting to F8 with the occasional squall forecasted. It may, so the Met predict, drop to a F3/4 'later' with an accompanying temperature drop to near freezing overnight! Very autumnal and of some concern!
My next leg is to Craighouse on the Isle of Jura, NE of my current position. With the wind currently coming from the NW the 23 mile run is feasible. The optimum time to leave would be around 1;30pm and with a favourable tide take me around 6 hours.
Will the wind follow orders?
Footnote:-
No, they didn't!
It's now 1515 and the wind is still gusting F7 although, in the Met's defence, it has dropped marginally; but not enough to set sail.
A great pity and very frustrating!
Eventually I must have drifted off to wake in glorious sunshine, but with a bitingly cold wind, gusting to F8 with the occasional squall forecasted. It may, so the Met predict, drop to a F3/4 'later' with an accompanying temperature drop to near freezing overnight! Very autumnal and of some concern!
My next leg is to Craighouse on the Isle of Jura, NE of my current position. With the wind currently coming from the NW the 23 mile run is feasible. The optimum time to leave would be around 1;30pm and with a favourable tide take me around 6 hours.
Will the wind follow orders?
Footnote:-
No, they didn't!
It's now 1515 and the wind is still gusting F7 although, in the Met's defence, it has dropped marginally; but not enough to set sail.
A great pity and very frustrating!
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Wind bound in Port Ellen - 28th August
High tide came and went around 14:30 and, if anything, the wind has increased since; bringing with it heavy squalls and gusts of F6. A walk to the local Co-op, less than 400 yards away, resulted in a horizontal dousing!
Rupert loiters horizontally, stomach up, nearby, half asleep, eyes closed and floating almost motionless with his nose twitching from time to time to catch the slightest whiff of anything edible. And new to the scene, is a slightly bedraggled cormorant that has taken up station on a heavily bird stained buoy nearby and keeps a restless beady eye on life in general, but particularly on Rupert. It can't be Colin?
I'm getting cabin fever!
I've recieved a reprimand from Stevie, the landlord at that wonderful pub in Glenarm, for not mentioning the chocolate muffin his daughter made him, that he kindly cut in half and shared with me, still hot from the oven, using a fresh egg, just laid, by his own chicken. Stevie, I could hardly remember my own name in the morning after 6 pints! But sorry all the same; as it was a delicious morsal to compliment your Irish Stew. Please thank your daughter. And yes, I did spot you waving like mad and your crazy terrier by your side!
Who is in control of who, by the way?
Rupert loiters horizontally, stomach up, nearby, half asleep, eyes closed and floating almost motionless with his nose twitching from time to time to catch the slightest whiff of anything edible. And new to the scene, is a slightly bedraggled cormorant that has taken up station on a heavily bird stained buoy nearby and keeps a restless beady eye on life in general, but particularly on Rupert. It can't be Colin?
I'm getting cabin fever!
I've recieved a reprimand from Stevie, the landlord at that wonderful pub in Glenarm, for not mentioning the chocolate muffin his daughter made him, that he kindly cut in half and shared with me, still hot from the oven, using a fresh egg, just laid, by his own chicken. Stevie, I could hardly remember my own name in the morning after 6 pints! But sorry all the same; as it was a delicious morsal to compliment your Irish Stew. Please thank your daughter. And yes, I did spot you waving like mad and your crazy terrier by your side!
Who is in control of who, by the way?
Port Ellen - Islay - Rupert the seal - 28th August
Rupert has been visiting Port Ellen for 5 years, A grey seal, fat on the titbit's thrown to it by fishermen. He arrives every spring and stays throughout the summer before vanishing to reappear the following year. A strange habit of extending his nostrils while sampling the air for food is accompanied by much mirth from onlookers. As soon as a fishing boat pulls in, and there are plenty, he makes an appearance by its side. He seems to recognise them all.
It's not looking too good to go North today as the wind is gusting to F6+. High tide is at 14:34 this afternoon. Crunch time.... I hope it settles, but if anything, the gusts are growing stronger. Such a shame, after making great progress over the last 4 days.
It's not looking too good to go North today as the wind is gusting to F6+. High tide is at 14:34 this afternoon. Crunch time.... I hope it settles, but if anything, the gusts are growing stronger. Such a shame, after making great progress over the last 4 days.
Friday, 27 August 2010
Ballycastle, NI to Port Ellen,The island of Islay August 27th
The last weather forecast from Clyde Coastguard I heard, before falling asleep and still groaning from the jumbo Cod and Chips, made Islay possible, so primed, I woke early with laundry on top of the list of things to get done. An ebb tide being a mandatory element to get there, meant an 11:30am departure was perfect.
A full rather smelly load on a quick wash followed by a 60 minute tumble, gave me time to do a three bag shop at Spa unpack and stow! Happy that the fridge was full and laundry dry, I moved Equinox to the fuel berth and topped up. Heaven knows when I’ll next get a chance; and while waiting, for the marina manager to arrive, filed a Passage Plan with Belfast Coastguard. Once outside the huge stone breakwaters with a brisk NW’ly wind on the port quarter passing to the West of Rathlin Island would be difficult, despite 3 knot favourable tide trying to coax me. Instead with a 14 knot wind to help me on a reach, we sailed East and met head on first a gentle race on the South East corner of the Island, then a roller coaster of a race on the North East corner. Rough! Seagull poo and anything not firmly screwed to the deck were washed off – but, for the first time ever, Equinox registered 12.1 knots SOG on the GPS – Brisk indeed! As we parted company with the island, the wind backed to the West and we flew the final 23 miles to Port Ellen in less than five hours; the sun shining most of the way. A tricky entrance was made easier by watching a ferry depart; his track reversed led me to a perfect little marina – two pontoons and just four visiting boats - so plenty of choice.
Once berthed, I slipped ashore to the White Hart Hotel nearby, ravenous as I’d not eaten a thing all day. A splendid meal of local mussels followed by Hebridean chicken – a chicken breast wrapped around haggis served with a whiskey sauce was delicious and the local Islay ale outrageouly good, though expensive at £3.80 a pint. While eating, I could not help but notice the rain trying to take the paint off the windows! Force 6’s forecasted tomorrow. Hmmmm! There are at least three distilleries nearby, to keep me occupied........? Tempting?
A full rather smelly load on a quick wash followed by a 60 minute tumble, gave me time to do a three bag shop at Spa unpack and stow! Happy that the fridge was full and laundry dry, I moved Equinox to the fuel berth and topped up. Heaven knows when I’ll next get a chance; and while waiting, for the marina manager to arrive, filed a Passage Plan with Belfast Coastguard. Once outside the huge stone breakwaters with a brisk NW’ly wind on the port quarter passing to the West of Rathlin Island would be difficult, despite 3 knot favourable tide trying to coax me. Instead with a 14 knot wind to help me on a reach, we sailed East and met head on first a gentle race on the South East corner of the Island, then a roller coaster of a race on the North East corner. Rough! Seagull poo and anything not firmly screwed to the deck were washed off – but, for the first time ever, Equinox registered 12.1 knots SOG on the GPS – Brisk indeed! As we parted company with the island, the wind backed to the West and we flew the final 23 miles to Port Ellen in less than five hours; the sun shining most of the way. A tricky entrance was made easier by watching a ferry depart; his track reversed led me to a perfect little marina – two pontoons and just four visiting boats - so plenty of choice.
Once berthed, I slipped ashore to the White Hart Hotel nearby, ravenous as I’d not eaten a thing all day. A splendid meal of local mussels followed by Hebridean chicken – a chicken breast wrapped around haggis served with a whiskey sauce was delicious and the local Islay ale outrageouly good, though expensive at £3.80 a pint. While eating, I could not help but notice the rain trying to take the paint off the windows! Force 6’s forecasted tomorrow. Hmmmm! There are at least three distilleries nearby, to keep me occupied........? Tempting?
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Ballycastle - Antrim - NI - August 26th
I finally managed to get my thunderous head together and made my way up to the facilities block and had a scorcher of a shower, looking, it has to be said, rather worse for wear! Once scrubbed, I paid my dues, having first topped up the water tank and cast off at 10:45, motoring past some huge salmon cages before the promised Northerly wind had found its way into the bay. Finally a zephyr from the North made a stab at giving the engine a helping hand.
For the next five hours, with the tide doing nearly all the work, I sailed or rather drifted past the most beautiful coast I think I’ve ever seen. Antrim is simply stunning; particularly so on this sunny but chilly day. Sailing a couple of hundred meters from the shore in 70 meters of water is an odd sensation; and one I find hard to come to terms with. So deep were some stretches of the passage, that my depth gauge gave up and started offering me silly shallow readings! The first couple of times this happens, there’s a mad dash to the chart table to see if you’ve missed something; but once you’ve checked you’re still in 150+ meters of water you relax, just a little!
Passing Cushendun Bay then finally Torr Head the wind finally found another gear (12Knots )and we had a spectacular sail into Church Bay on Rathlin Island at 8-9 knots SOG, before turning South and dashing back across the race back into Ballycastle Bay, paying a stiff penalty for doing so, by being carried too far West by the tide. But it was worth it, as we scudded back into the calm bay and sailed to within a mile of the tightly packed marina, located at the far end of the bay, before dropping sails. Once moored to berth 9 on ‘C’ pontoon and connected to shore power, I headed off to the harbour office to make introductions. Kindly they have waived their fees, so the Charity will benefit by the same amount. Codes given, I wandered around town and checked out the shops that tomorrow will fill Equinox’s larder and fridge. Not a bad choice and all close to the marina.
Back on board and still feeling a little below par, decided a fish supper was in order, I could not help notice the odd whiff of cooking fish waft over the marina and with it my appetite returned. Morton’s fish and chips are a legend. Using lard is part of their secret, but they must have others. The queues speak for themselves and it’s said some regulars drive 100 miles for the experience. Having only just managed to finish a Jumbo Cod and Chips, I can safely say their reputation is well deserved. The batter so crisp it defies description.
Port Ellen on the Scottish island of Islay tomorrow! So its time to bury my head it in tidal flows, Admiralty charts and GPS waypoints to ensure the passage is safe. An initial look leaves me rather perplexed!
For the next five hours, with the tide doing nearly all the work, I sailed or rather drifted past the most beautiful coast I think I’ve ever seen. Antrim is simply stunning; particularly so on this sunny but chilly day. Sailing a couple of hundred meters from the shore in 70 meters of water is an odd sensation; and one I find hard to come to terms with. So deep were some stretches of the passage, that my depth gauge gave up and started offering me silly shallow readings! The first couple of times this happens, there’s a mad dash to the chart table to see if you’ve missed something; but once you’ve checked you’re still in 150+ meters of water you relax, just a little!
Passing Cushendun Bay then finally Torr Head the wind finally found another gear (12Knots )and we had a spectacular sail into Church Bay on Rathlin Island at 8-9 knots SOG, before turning South and dashing back across the race back into Ballycastle Bay, paying a stiff penalty for doing so, by being carried too far West by the tide. But it was worth it, as we scudded back into the calm bay and sailed to within a mile of the tightly packed marina, located at the far end of the bay, before dropping sails. Once moored to berth 9 on ‘C’ pontoon and connected to shore power, I headed off to the harbour office to make introductions. Kindly they have waived their fees, so the Charity will benefit by the same amount. Codes given, I wandered around town and checked out the shops that tomorrow will fill Equinox’s larder and fridge. Not a bad choice and all close to the marina.
Back on board and still feeling a little below par, decided a fish supper was in order, I could not help notice the odd whiff of cooking fish waft over the marina and with it my appetite returned. Morton’s fish and chips are a legend. Using lard is part of their secret, but they must have others. The queues speak for themselves and it’s said some regulars drive 100 miles for the experience. Having only just managed to finish a Jumbo Cod and Chips, I can safely say their reputation is well deserved. The batter so crisp it defies description.
Port Ellen on the Scottish island of Islay tomorrow! So its time to bury my head it in tidal flows, Admiralty charts and GPS waypoints to ensure the passage is safe. An initial look leaves me rather perplexed!
Killler Whale and Irish Stew - August 25th
A spur of the moment decision, simply because weather, wind and tide made it possible, put Ireland on the agenda. Slipping lines at 11:00 and setting sail for Glenarm, a small marina some 20 miles North of Belfast, was a joy. The sun blazed down and combined with 7 knots of wind and a 2.5 knot tide made the crossing delicious, the tide helping all the way. Suddenly a noise like a truck tyre being deflated by having its valve removed made me leap up, and there not 50 yards away was a Killer Whale - black with white belly and huge dorsal fin; and, somewhat scarily, it was heading straight for me, along with two smaller ones – one minus a dorsal fin! Another huge exhale a few moments later made me gasp, as did the subsequent ones! How can anything breathe out with such force? The vapour exploding 6 feet in the air! It passed less than 25 yards away. Awe struck Utterly and completely!
Arriving in Glenarm Bay having sailed up the coast from Belfast Loch and passing The Maidens – two rocks that look exactly like a young girls chesty bits, followed the harbourmaster's instructions and chose any free berth available inside the marina. Again following orders and after mooring, I found the key hanging in a green plastic bag behind the fuse box! I could now leave the marina via the electronic gate and equally important, get back in! Glenarm has seen better days, but the pub - The Bridge End Tavern is a real find. The landlord and owner Stevey McAuley a true professional. A roaring fire, a perfect pint of Guinness and on mentioning food which, they've never done, unasked produced from nowhere a huge bowl of delicious Irish stew, he'd made earlier. Where else but Ireland? God it was good. Then in came a three man crew, having parked a big Moody in the same marina - the owner having had the same operation as me, for Prostate Cancer. Then a motorcycle racing photographer came in and suddenly it's midnight and I found myself on the fat end 6 pints!
Ballycastle tomorrow if I can make any sense of life!
Arriving in Glenarm Bay having sailed up the coast from Belfast Loch and passing The Maidens – two rocks that look exactly like a young girls chesty bits, followed the harbourmaster's instructions and chose any free berth available inside the marina. Again following orders and after mooring, I found the key hanging in a green plastic bag behind the fuse box! I could now leave the marina via the electronic gate and equally important, get back in! Glenarm has seen better days, but the pub - The Bridge End Tavern is a real find. The landlord and owner Stevey McAuley a true professional. A roaring fire, a perfect pint of Guinness and on mentioning food which, they've never done, unasked produced from nowhere a huge bowl of delicious Irish stew, he'd made earlier. Where else but Ireland? God it was good. Then in came a three man crew, having parked a big Moody in the same marina - the owner having had the same operation as me, for Prostate Cancer. Then a motorcycle racing photographer came in and suddenly it's midnight and I found myself on the fat end 6 pints!
Ballycastle tomorrow if I can make any sense of life!
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
What a night - Portpatrick - August 24th
From 2:30am onwards Equinox increasingly shuddered and creaked as she squashed and rolled her fenders along the harbour wall. Her mooring lines loose to cope with the ten foot rise and fall of the tide. To overcome this, I'd hung two heavy lengths of chain, found on the dockside, halfway along the lines, helping maintain some tension - an old fisherman's trick; even so, we surged forward and backwards as the wind pushed us in every direction in the confined harbour. As the night progressed, the temperature dropped markedly, making each dash from my sleeping bag to see where the last crunch or scrape had emanated from an effort and then with headlamp on, readjusted the fenders; before heading back shivering to the cabin. By 4am the wind had eased a touch; but I'm staying put today, as it's very rough outside - I can hear it and I’m in need of sleep!
Portpatrick - Midnight!
Footnote!
Following a rather mediocre steak at the nearest pub and seeing the window box flowers getting more and more animated, as the evening progressed, decided it was time to head back to Equinox - around 10:30, having met a splendid couple, Tim and Sarah, from Norfolk and their dog hating, but docile black Cumbrian terrier. The promised gale had arrived, somewhat later than forecasted, but never the less..... it had arrived!
Back on board and having taken stock, extra fenders were quickly attached as Equinox was squirming restlessly on her mooring lines and doing her very best to coax those already deployed from doing their duty, exposing her delicate teak rubbing streak to the ancient barnacle encrusted harbour wall; a marriage with a repair bill attached!
By 23:45 the gusts were strong enough to induce a heel from just the six, or so, feet of mast sticking up above the harbour wall!
I don't suppose I'm going to get much sleep tonight.
Following a rather mediocre steak at the nearest pub and seeing the window box flowers getting more and more animated, as the evening progressed, decided it was time to head back to Equinox - around 10:30, having met a splendid couple, Tim and Sarah, from Norfolk and their dog hating, but docile black Cumbrian terrier. The promised gale had arrived, somewhat later than forecasted, but never the less..... it had arrived!
Back on board and having taken stock, extra fenders were quickly attached as Equinox was squirming restlessly on her mooring lines and doing her very best to coax those already deployed from doing their duty, exposing her delicate teak rubbing streak to the ancient barnacle encrusted harbour wall; a marriage with a repair bill attached!
By 23:45 the gusts were strong enough to induce a heel from just the six, or so, feet of mast sticking up above the harbour wall!
I don't suppose I'm going to get much sleep tonight.
Monday, 23 August 2010
Luce Bay to Portpatrick - Scotland - August 23rd
I'd planned on Stranraer as my destination and needed the ebb tide to squeeze me up the North Passage, so didn't leave until 11am - high water. No sooner than round the bottom of the Rhins of Galloway and heading North at a terrific rate, than over the radio came a severe gale warning - a Force 8 and soon! If it had come an hour earlier I'd have stayed where I was but, diving below, I entered Portpatrick as the destination in the plotter, having earlier entered the Lat and Long as a precaution. The GPS gave me an instant fix and told me it was just 8.9 mile s away - an hour's sailing due to the 4 knot tide under me. Having confirmed it as my destination, I stuck my head above the cockpit and spied a solitary whale heading South, not 50 yards away. I say whale, but I'm really not sure what it was. It behaved like a dolphin, but was humongous ; black and at least five times the size!
An hour later Portpatrick came into view and using the Irish Sea Pilot Guide book used the two red leading marks - one on the harbour wall and the other on a building in the village as the angle to steer into a tiny almost empty harbour with lots of seaweed, rubbish and dead brown jellyfish. The harbour master was waiting for me up a rather daunting metal ladder! Portpatrick is rather cute and boasts at least three pubs and restaurants - local caught fish a speciality, it seems. It's a favourite haunt for Irish sailors at weekends apparently! The first pub I went into, and it was lunchtime by the way, sold Speckled Hen and Timothy Taylor! My two most favourite beers in all the world in just one place. Fate, some would say, so drank a toast to whales, with both! That made me feel much better.
The rain came in bucket loads the wind didn't!
It could have been worse, much worse!
An hour later Portpatrick came into view and using the Irish Sea Pilot Guide book used the two red leading marks - one on the harbour wall and the other on a building in the village as the angle to steer into a tiny almost empty harbour with lots of seaweed, rubbish and dead brown jellyfish. The harbour master was waiting for me up a rather daunting metal ladder! Portpatrick is rather cute and boasts at least three pubs and restaurants - local caught fish a speciality, it seems. It's a favourite haunt for Irish sailors at weekends apparently! The first pub I went into, and it was lunchtime by the way, sold Speckled Hen and Timothy Taylor! My two most favourite beers in all the world in just one place. Fate, some would say, so drank a toast to whales, with both! That made me feel much better.
The rain came in bucket loads the wind didn't!
It could have been worse, much worse!
Whitehaven to Luce Bay - Scotland - August 22nd
Locking out of Whitehaven’s sea lock, accompanied by a rather smelly fishing boat, found us heading straight into the nose of a lumpy and uncomfortable Irish Sea boasting a SW’ly wind of 9-13 knots. Two days of severe gale force winds had left the shallow Solway Firth angry at being rudely interrupted from its summer recess. Our destination, the far side of Luce Bay and the tiny inlet called East Tarbet Bay right at the tip of the Mull of Galloway. A perfect spot to wait before the challenging North Passage - the fiercely tidal narrow gap between Northern Ireland and Scotland, just sixty miles long, twelve miles wide with up to 10 metre tides. It’s critical to get everything right – wind, weather and tide!
On just one single tack we sailed into Wigtown Bay, passing the tempting entrance to Kircudbright harbour at 1500, along with hundreds of throbbing surface swimming brown jelly fish in bright sunshine then when close to the western shore, tacked out past the Isle of Whithorn, another tempting little harbour, to meet head-on the race at The Machers, the headland that separates Wigtown and Luce bays. It had taken far longer to sail the twenty five miles than planned, as the disgruntled Irish Sea continually threw batches of ugly sisters at me in threes’ – a set of waves that smack you this way and that and knock you almost to a standstill, despite best efforts to helm around them. I’ve met them before near Cowes. One particular batch sent a packet of spray thumping back into my spray hood along with a huge cafe au lait coloured jellyfish which was stranded between the windlass and Cranse iron – the metal structure that takes the varying loads at the butt end of the bowsprit! I am not sure who was more surprised and was not in the least bit sorry to see the shiny mass, the size of a large Frisbee and as thick as a telephone directory, get washed overboard some moments later by the next big batch of ugly sisters. Resorting reluctantly, to the engine, as groundspeed faltered to less than a knot as the wind fell to7 knots was a must if I were to reach my destination. Once in Luce Bay the wind picked up and we had a lovely sail engineless towards The Scares – a small group of tiny islands and a nearby larger island in the middle of the bay; Gannets diving all around me providing compelling viewing; some from incredible heights and back or should that be beak-breaking speeds. A two knot hostile tide was making progress torrid; the sun long set, by the time we passed the larger island which prompted an engine restart; motor sailing the last eight miles in near darkness, the lighthouse at the tip destroying my night vision every 20 seconds. By the time we were below the beam and well inside the bay, it was completely dark, with a very fine drizzle damping enthusiasm for anything other than getting under cover. With sails furled, we gently and cautiously motored blind, relying totally on instruments, to the far end of the bay and moored in 8m; a mere 30m from the rocky shore. Too tired to cook, a lump of bread, cheese and pickle and two Hens sufficed, before falling exhausted into bed. The daily log read 73 miles; my longest passage both in hours at the helm and distance covered!
On just one single tack we sailed into Wigtown Bay, passing the tempting entrance to Kircudbright harbour at 1500, along with hundreds of throbbing surface swimming brown jelly fish in bright sunshine then when close to the western shore, tacked out past the Isle of Whithorn, another tempting little harbour, to meet head-on the race at The Machers, the headland that separates Wigtown and Luce bays. It had taken far longer to sail the twenty five miles than planned, as the disgruntled Irish Sea continually threw batches of ugly sisters at me in threes’ – a set of waves that smack you this way and that and knock you almost to a standstill, despite best efforts to helm around them. I’ve met them before near Cowes. One particular batch sent a packet of spray thumping back into my spray hood along with a huge cafe au lait coloured jellyfish which was stranded between the windlass and Cranse iron – the metal structure that takes the varying loads at the butt end of the bowsprit! I am not sure who was more surprised and was not in the least bit sorry to see the shiny mass, the size of a large Frisbee and as thick as a telephone directory, get washed overboard some moments later by the next big batch of ugly sisters. Resorting reluctantly, to the engine, as groundspeed faltered to less than a knot as the wind fell to7 knots was a must if I were to reach my destination. Once in Luce Bay the wind picked up and we had a lovely sail engineless towards The Scares – a small group of tiny islands and a nearby larger island in the middle of the bay; Gannets diving all around me providing compelling viewing; some from incredible heights and back or should that be beak-breaking speeds. A two knot hostile tide was making progress torrid; the sun long set, by the time we passed the larger island which prompted an engine restart; motor sailing the last eight miles in near darkness, the lighthouse at the tip destroying my night vision every 20 seconds. By the time we were below the beam and well inside the bay, it was completely dark, with a very fine drizzle damping enthusiasm for anything other than getting under cover. With sails furled, we gently and cautiously motored blind, relying totally on instruments, to the far end of the bay and moored in 8m; a mere 30m from the rocky shore. Too tired to cook, a lump of bread, cheese and pickle and two Hens sufficed, before falling exhausted into bed. The daily log read 73 miles; my longest passage both in hours at the helm and distance covered!
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Whitehaven - Day 4 - August 21st.
0900
A fabulous morning with clear sunny skies finds me itching to get on the move again, but the gusts of wind are something else! Even inside this fortress harbour I'm being blown about just a little bit. Liverpool Coastguard's weather forecast, just heard on Ch86 gives me hope it will drop as the day progresses; so may chance a sail this afternoon across the Solway Firth to Wigtown Bay which, I'm told, is very picturesque and a passage of 20 miles or so. The wind would be perfect were it not for the 40mph gusts! Fingers crossed!
1400
A large Moody with 6 crew leaves the pontoon opposite and return within the hour. Keen to know what conditions were like, I walked around to ask. 'Lumpy...very lumpy and not much fun at all'! They all looked rather disheartened.
1530
A small 24ft French built yacht with two crew approach the empty berth on the same finger, so leave my gripping Stig Larsson novel and offer to take their lines. While handing it to me from the bow and fending the boat off, I asked where they had come from. 'Douglas comes back the response and from St Bedes Head (the last 10 miles) it's been rough going! Until then, a fantastic sail on a reach all the way until the wind veered, and with it the sea really got up', he said.
It seems they experienced much the same conditions as I did!
That settles it.. I'm here for another night.
At least I'll finish 'The girl who played with fire'!
A fabulous morning with clear sunny skies finds me itching to get on the move again, but the gusts of wind are something else! Even inside this fortress harbour I'm being blown about just a little bit. Liverpool Coastguard's weather forecast, just heard on Ch86 gives me hope it will drop as the day progresses; so may chance a sail this afternoon across the Solway Firth to Wigtown Bay which, I'm told, is very picturesque and a passage of 20 miles or so. The wind would be perfect were it not for the 40mph gusts! Fingers crossed!
1400
A large Moody with 6 crew leaves the pontoon opposite and return within the hour. Keen to know what conditions were like, I walked around to ask. 'Lumpy...very lumpy and not much fun at all'! They all looked rather disheartened.
1530
A small 24ft French built yacht with two crew approach the empty berth on the same finger, so leave my gripping Stig Larsson novel and offer to take their lines. While handing it to me from the bow and fending the boat off, I asked where they had come from. 'Douglas comes back the response and from St Bedes Head (the last 10 miles) it's been rough going! Until then, a fantastic sail on a reach all the way until the wind veered, and with it the sea really got up', he said.
It seems they experienced much the same conditions as I did!
That settles it.. I'm here for another night.
At least I'll finish 'The girl who played with fire'!
Friday, 20 August 2010
Whitehaven - Day 3 - August 20th
It's rained most of the day, but as I write this at 17:00, blue sky is appearing from the SW and it's looking brighter by the minute. Anticipating an early start, I called into the marina office to settle up and was dismayed to receive an updated forecast; contradicting one I read only a matter of hours ago on the Internet. Instead we can expect 13-20 mph SW winds with gusts up to 42! Much the same as today, but without as much rain! Few have ventured out of the Sea Lock and a large rescue craft that was due to escort someones windsurfing exploits from Ireland to Cumbria, has come in and reported torrid sea conditions. I'll make a fresh call in the morning, but it looks as though I'm here for a further day.
At least I can pig out on Ann's fantastic chocolate brownies, she baked yesterday. They're absolutely delicious!
At least I can pig out on Ann's fantastic chocolate brownies, she baked yesterday. They're absolutely delicious!
Whitehaven - Day 2 - August 19th
A glorious sunny day which, would have had me ploughing North; were it not for a weather forecast heralding Severe Gale Force 9 for SW Scotland and gusts of F8 here in Whitehaven. It's hard to believe, as I sit here in glorious sunshine, taking a breather, in shorts, hot and sticky after pumping up the tender. Richard and Ann Wood, are joining me for dinner tonight, back at the same Chinese restaurant; so hope yesterday's excellent meal wasn't a one off; as they live over an hour's drive away! He's one of the Taw fishers. Before they arrived, I spent the rest of the day shopping and giving Equinox another 'once-over'. The starboard lockers, yet again, were emptied and a final drying session given to their contents, following the last watery mishap. Hopefully a task not to be repeated!
Whitehaven is a 'must visit' for yachtsmen. Close to the town centre with some great pubs and a wide choice of places to eat. The harbour complex is massive with huge 21ft thick dock walls providing superb protection from all the Irish Sea can throw at it. The first dock was built in 1633, a second in the 1700's making Whitehaven the third largest port in Britain, exporting coal from the nearby and deepest mine in world to Ireland, manufactured goods and slaves to America and importing tobacco from Virginia and Rum from the West Indies. Considered so vital, it was attacked by the Americans during the War of Indepedence. Over a thousand ships were built here during the period up to 1832 from 300-3000 tons when the outer harbour, pier and a lighthouse were built; then finally in 1876 Queens dock was built. Steam trains running along the huge docksides and 400 horse drawn waggons daily moving goods around the complex and into warehouses. Fortunes were made; but time has since taken its toll as Whitehaven lost out to other ports better connected to the railways, the demise of the slave trade and finally to steam powered ships just too big to dock here. It was not until 1990's with grants given to update the docks, dredge the outer harbour and install a new Sea Lock and huge, state of the art, boat repair shed that the site again started to prosper; and now boasts hundreds of pleasure craft berthed here with room for many more. So well protected were we last night, despite a gale blowing over our heads and rain thrumming on the cabin roof, we barely tugged on our lines.
Simone, the manager is a treasure; nothing is too much trouble for her. My shore power went off at some point during the night, so popped up to report it. Offering and making me a cup of coffee, she had someone address it instantly, while we chatted. Within minutes a colleague returned to report he had to use an extension lead to marry Equinox to another source further away; and power was back on. Not only does she have a smile that would melt any sailor's heart she runs a tight ship too. The showers and lavatory areas are absolutely spotless; as is, the laundry room. All deliciously warm and welcoming and even boast a rack of paperbacks to borrow; for the storm bound. The cleaner, who I met, and had a chat with, this morning is a real diamond who takes enormous pride in all she does.
May I suggest to the Isle of Man Harbour Management, that they invite this team over and get a lesson in hospitality and human relations? They might just learn a thing or two!
Meeting up with Richard and Ann was a delight as we caught up on each others news in Equinox's cabin, drizzle preventing us from sitting outside. After a few drinks aboard we had a fabulous meal at the Orchid House. By the time they left, it was tipping down, so rather than getting a soaking, took shelter in a pub, for a 'cheeky one', while watching a very good Karaoke version of Hendrix's 'All along the wachtower'. The young drinking like fish, presumably after getting their 'A' level results! It's certainly very different here; and I love it!
The rain never let up, indeed it became torrential, so got a complete soaking durng the 400 yard dash back to the boat.
I'm getting rather tired of being damp!
Whitehaven is a 'must visit' for yachtsmen. Close to the town centre with some great pubs and a wide choice of places to eat. The harbour complex is massive with huge 21ft thick dock walls providing superb protection from all the Irish Sea can throw at it. The first dock was built in 1633, a second in the 1700's making Whitehaven the third largest port in Britain, exporting coal from the nearby and deepest mine in world to Ireland, manufactured goods and slaves to America and importing tobacco from Virginia and Rum from the West Indies. Considered so vital, it was attacked by the Americans during the War of Indepedence. Over a thousand ships were built here during the period up to 1832 from 300-3000 tons when the outer harbour, pier and a lighthouse were built; then finally in 1876 Queens dock was built. Steam trains running along the huge docksides and 400 horse drawn waggons daily moving goods around the complex and into warehouses. Fortunes were made; but time has since taken its toll as Whitehaven lost out to other ports better connected to the railways, the demise of the slave trade and finally to steam powered ships just too big to dock here. It was not until 1990's with grants given to update the docks, dredge the outer harbour and install a new Sea Lock and huge, state of the art, boat repair shed that the site again started to prosper; and now boasts hundreds of pleasure craft berthed here with room for many more. So well protected were we last night, despite a gale blowing over our heads and rain thrumming on the cabin roof, we barely tugged on our lines.
Simone, the manager is a treasure; nothing is too much trouble for her. My shore power went off at some point during the night, so popped up to report it. Offering and making me a cup of coffee, she had someone address it instantly, while we chatted. Within minutes a colleague returned to report he had to use an extension lead to marry Equinox to another source further away; and power was back on. Not only does she have a smile that would melt any sailor's heart she runs a tight ship too. The showers and lavatory areas are absolutely spotless; as is, the laundry room. All deliciously warm and welcoming and even boast a rack of paperbacks to borrow; for the storm bound. The cleaner, who I met, and had a chat with, this morning is a real diamond who takes enormous pride in all she does.
May I suggest to the Isle of Man Harbour Management, that they invite this team over and get a lesson in hospitality and human relations? They might just learn a thing or two!
Meeting up with Richard and Ann was a delight as we caught up on each others news in Equinox's cabin, drizzle preventing us from sitting outside. After a few drinks aboard we had a fabulous meal at the Orchid House. By the time they left, it was tipping down, so rather than getting a soaking, took shelter in a pub, for a 'cheeky one', while watching a very good Karaoke version of Hendrix's 'All along the wachtower'. The young drinking like fish, presumably after getting their 'A' level results! It's certainly very different here; and I love it!
The rain never let up, indeed it became torrential, so got a complete soaking durng the 400 yard dash back to the boat.
I'm getting rather tired of being damp!
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Douglas to Whitehaven - 18th August.
Todat's our 31st Wedding Anniversary, spent apart sadly ...yet again! Last year I was under the knife for six and a half hours. Sorry Darling!
Georgina, my daughter called from London offering to buy, on my behalf, flowers and chocolates to take home to Gina. Thank you G.
Much earlier at 6:15am after a troubled night, I cornflaked and prepared myself and Equinox for another 50+ mile NE slog up the Irish Sea to Whitehaven; my next port of call. An easy exit under the road bridge, from the Inner Harbour was delayed by a fastcat ferry leaving. Again the voice on the VHF was so weak I could barely hear it. I'd mentioned this fact to another couple moored nearby and they too had difficulties hearing too. It's odd that I can talk and hear Liverpool and Holyhead Coastguard with ease and total clarity from here; but not Douglas Harbour Control!
A glorious sail, in the buff, along the island's east coast with stunning views of a heather clad hills was a joy, as were the first views of Scotland and Cumbria. It was nice to feel the sun on all the wobbly bits again. Although I did keep my Tilly hat on! With ten miles to go, the wind picked up to 18Knots and with it, the sea suddenly became ferocious. Under mainsail only and on a run, I was pooped twice, not seriously, but for the first time a bucket or two of water came over the sterrn, into the cockpit, washing my feet before draining - rather pleasant actually! Time to get dressed and prepare to lock into Whitehaven. Wonderfully clear simple and LOUD instructions were given and the Sea lock a real joy, as it is lined with wood floating pontoons, you moor against that rise and fall in the lock with you and your boat - so much better than the setup I'm familiar with at Chichester. The lock keeper lowered on a rope a bag with instructions in it together with a map of the marina he'd marked showing me the route to take to my allocated pontoon. Deep Joy! The lock opens to a hnge walled mariner with a gap in the corner that leads to a further harbour for fishing boats that also has a gap through its wall to an inner sheltered harbour for visitors and smaller working boats. Perfect! Two marina staff were there to take lines and made me feel very welcome, pointing out gates,shower block and laundry facilities; all just a few minutes walk away. That's how you do it Isle of Man!
Showered in excellent and scrupulously clean facilities, 20 minutes later and feeling hungry I wandered into town to stretch my legs. Lots of places to eat and settled on a Chinese. The Orchid House is a real find. The best crispy duck and delicious home made hoisin sauce ever tasted, came with plenty of pancakess, then a delicious spicy chicken dish followed it. Full to the brim, and back on Equinox, I slept the sleep of the dead.
Guess what, It's 11am on Thursday and I've just received a phone call from Douglas Harbour Control, they can't find a record of my payment!!!! Eer, it was your suggestion that you send me an invoice to save me a walk in the rain up to the Outer Harbour office..... not mine! So they're now sending a bill!
What a wretched episode all round!
Georgina, my daughter called from London offering to buy, on my behalf, flowers and chocolates to take home to Gina. Thank you G.
Much earlier at 6:15am after a troubled night, I cornflaked and prepared myself and Equinox for another 50+ mile NE slog up the Irish Sea to Whitehaven; my next port of call. An easy exit under the road bridge, from the Inner Harbour was delayed by a fastcat ferry leaving. Again the voice on the VHF was so weak I could barely hear it. I'd mentioned this fact to another couple moored nearby and they too had difficulties hearing too. It's odd that I can talk and hear Liverpool and Holyhead Coastguard with ease and total clarity from here; but not Douglas Harbour Control!
A glorious sail, in the buff, along the island's east coast with stunning views of a heather clad hills was a joy, as were the first views of Scotland and Cumbria. It was nice to feel the sun on all the wobbly bits again. Although I did keep my Tilly hat on! With ten miles to go, the wind picked up to 18Knots and with it, the sea suddenly became ferocious. Under mainsail only and on a run, I was pooped twice, not seriously, but for the first time a bucket or two of water came over the sterrn, into the cockpit, washing my feet before draining - rather pleasant actually! Time to get dressed and prepare to lock into Whitehaven. Wonderfully clear simple and LOUD instructions were given and the Sea lock a real joy, as it is lined with wood floating pontoons, you moor against that rise and fall in the lock with you and your boat - so much better than the setup I'm familiar with at Chichester. The lock keeper lowered on a rope a bag with instructions in it together with a map of the marina he'd marked showing me the route to take to my allocated pontoon. Deep Joy! The lock opens to a hnge walled mariner with a gap in the corner that leads to a further harbour for fishing boats that also has a gap through its wall to an inner sheltered harbour for visitors and smaller working boats. Perfect! Two marina staff were there to take lines and made me feel very welcome, pointing out gates,shower block and laundry facilities; all just a few minutes walk away. That's how you do it Isle of Man!
Showered in excellent and scrupulously clean facilities, 20 minutes later and feeling hungry I wandered into town to stretch my legs. Lots of places to eat and settled on a Chinese. The Orchid House is a real find. The best crispy duck and delicious home made hoisin sauce ever tasted, came with plenty of pancakess, then a delicious spicy chicken dish followed it. Full to the brim, and back on Equinox, I slept the sleep of the dead.
Guess what, It's 11am on Thursday and I've just received a phone call from Douglas Harbour Control, they can't find a record of my payment!!!! Eer, it was your suggestion that you send me an invoice to save me a walk in the rain up to the Outer Harbour office..... not mine! So they're now sending a bill!
What a wretched episode all round!
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Douglas Day 1 - 17th August
One year ago, on this very day, I went into hospital for my Prostate surgery! It was also the eve of my 30th wedding anniversary! Where better to spend it, than in Douglas!
Letting myself out through the electric gate, at the push of a button, wash bag and towel at the ready, I sought out the Inner Harbour Office, where I was rather unceremoniously handed an empty form asking for exactly the same information given over the radio yesterday. Err, why? A plastic card pass was proffered and begrudgingly a shower card purchased for £1.10 for a 4 minute shower! Full of anticipation at the thought of a hot shower after yesterday’s exertions, I used my newly acquired pass to let myself into the showers. Where do I begin? The showers were a disgrace after Holyhead. Incredibly smelly, with black mould growing around the metal shower tray and appallingly badly lit by a token number of low watt energy saving bulbs, they reminded me of 1970 motorway service station. My 4 minute shower turned out to be less than three minutes, because only cold water reluctantly made a weak multi-directional appearance for the first minute or so, before it barely became hot enough to climb under. Feeling a little better, all the same, I headed back to Equinox to breakfast on a handful of muesli; reluctantly unable to face a fry up, just yet. First,having popped into a chandlers with a clearance sale on - just in case I found something that I didn’t know I needed, until I stumbled upon it; and had to have it; and there, met a delightful and helpful couple.. After which, I headed into town to stretch my legs, knowing that strong winds had been forecasted for today, so was stranded!
A mega-sized Costa Coffee cheered me up no end, as did a very breezy walk around the town’s extensive shopping area; spending a delightful 15 minutes watching unseen footage, expertly edited, of the recent Isle of Man TT on a huge screen, before feeling I’d overstayed my welcome.
Back on Equinox, over a Pork Pie and Hen lunch I plotted my escape... or tried to! There’s a sill that’s raised and lowered to keep a sufficient depth of water in the Inner Harbour located under the road bridge which, in turn is raised and lowered at quarter two and quarter past the hour, on request. The gate or sill rises tomorrow at 8:15am + or – depending on conditions, so I have to be out of my berth by 0730 and loitering close by, when the bridge opens at 0745. Miss it and I’d miss my chance to escape off the Island for a further 24 hours. I discovered this, after talking to the Outer Harbour Office on the radio – saving myself another long walk - as ludicrously, the Inner Harbour Office is closed outside normal working hours! Quite how visiting crews from yachts, coming in this evening , after the gate was lowered and long after the Inner Harbour office had closed, venture out into town and get back to their boats is beyond me!
I also asked, while on the VHF radio, how I should pay my dues and was told ‘Pay next time, send a cheque or, you could come down here with a ‘if you must’ intonation and pay!
You can send me the bill!
Letting myself out through the electric gate, at the push of a button, wash bag and towel at the ready, I sought out the Inner Harbour Office, where I was rather unceremoniously handed an empty form asking for exactly the same information given over the radio yesterday. Err, why? A plastic card pass was proffered and begrudgingly a shower card purchased for £1.10 for a 4 minute shower! Full of anticipation at the thought of a hot shower after yesterday’s exertions, I used my newly acquired pass to let myself into the showers. Where do I begin? The showers were a disgrace after Holyhead. Incredibly smelly, with black mould growing around the metal shower tray and appallingly badly lit by a token number of low watt energy saving bulbs, they reminded me of 1970 motorway service station. My 4 minute shower turned out to be less than three minutes, because only cold water reluctantly made a weak multi-directional appearance for the first minute or so, before it barely became hot enough to climb under. Feeling a little better, all the same, I headed back to Equinox to breakfast on a handful of muesli; reluctantly unable to face a fry up, just yet. First,having popped into a chandlers with a clearance sale on - just in case I found something that I didn’t know I needed, until I stumbled upon it; and had to have it; and there, met a delightful and helpful couple.. After which, I headed into town to stretch my legs, knowing that strong winds had been forecasted for today, so was stranded!
A mega-sized Costa Coffee cheered me up no end, as did a very breezy walk around the town’s extensive shopping area; spending a delightful 15 minutes watching unseen footage, expertly edited, of the recent Isle of Man TT on a huge screen, before feeling I’d overstayed my welcome.
Back on Equinox, over a Pork Pie and Hen lunch I plotted my escape... or tried to! There’s a sill that’s raised and lowered to keep a sufficient depth of water in the Inner Harbour located under the road bridge which, in turn is raised and lowered at quarter two and quarter past the hour, on request. The gate or sill rises tomorrow at 8:15am + or – depending on conditions, so I have to be out of my berth by 0730 and loitering close by, when the bridge opens at 0745. Miss it and I’d miss my chance to escape off the Island for a further 24 hours. I discovered this, after talking to the Outer Harbour Office on the radio – saving myself another long walk - as ludicrously, the Inner Harbour Office is closed outside normal working hours! Quite how visiting crews from yachts, coming in this evening , after the gate was lowered and long after the Inner Harbour office had closed, venture out into town and get back to their boats is beyond me!
I also asked, while on the VHF radio, how I should pay my dues and was told ‘Pay next time, send a cheque or, you could come down here with a ‘if you must’ intonation and pay!
You can send me the bill!
Holyhead to Douglas – Isle of Man – Monday 16th August
Waking at first light yesterday, I set about a cornflake or two as a precursor to preparing Equinox for the longest passage so far and decided, for the first time, to leave the tender deflated in her bag; and likewise Doris... (In joke!)
With the early morning sun, still low in clear sky with just a hint of a breeze ruffling the sea, I motored parallel with the mile long breakwater; hoisting the mainsail as I went; and reminisced about the wonderful evening spent with Ronnie and Nigel, following a gentle sail on Moneypenny, their deliciously equipped yacht. They stay at ‘The Point’ which proudly sits on Rhoscolyn’s headland with the most breathtaking views of Snowdonia and the Llynn Peninsula in the distance. Supper in a newly built conservatory was perfect; made more so by being treated to a spectacular Turneresque sunset, following which, a lemon moon gently died in its own reflection in a still sea. Thank you!
As the breeze gently heeled Equinox to starboard, as we turned North, at the end of the breakwater, I let fly the staysail then the jib; a final act, committing Equinox to the passage ahead and far out into the Irish Sea. The time 08:10. Gathering pace, as the tide made it presence felt; and leaving The Skerries to starboard, the wind gradually gave of its best and with it, at rewarding 6 knots under topsail.
Five empty hours later and still on the same tack, with not a hint of land in sight and just the odd seabird for company, the sky clouded over, as forecasted, and with it, the temperature took a tumble, along with the visibility; prompting a change into oilies. Two hours later, first the island, then Douglas appeared out of the mist and when I guessed there was less than 30 minutes motoring time remaining, started the engine to charge a very tired slave battery, while reducing sail, calling up Douglas Harbour Control for berthing instructions and letting Liverpool Coastguard know I'd arrived. A rather terse response from Douglous Harbour Control proffering a list of instructions that involved waiting for an unseen ship to enter, then to a further wait until 6:15 for the bridge to lift and then finally to call them again, once the ship had docked, for yet more instructions; at the same time they took details of Equinox, where I’d come from, length and draft, surname and contact details, number of crew, etc, etc. Heaven’s above, I want a berth for a night or two, not a bloody mortgage! Come on DHP, you’re located on an island in the middle of the Irish Sea, wherever you’ve arrived from in a little yacht, you’ve sailed at least 40-50 miles! If you then discover you’re talking to a solo yachtsman, as you did, who has just sailed 54 miles, welcome him in, be gentle with him and not make the whole experience fraught! It’s tough enough as it is, coming into a strange harbour single handed, without throwing the local harbour rule book at him. If it's that important have it printed in Reeds, so we know in advance!
Ten minutes later out of the mist, a steam packet ferry hove into view and entered the multi harbour complex, a signal, so I thought, to follow it in at a respectable distance – at least 400 yards behind. Barely underway and watching her expertly spin around and reverse into her berth, I kept my distance, only to receive a dressing down on the radio, that I’d illegally entered the harbour! A scolding that sounded as though I’d strayed into a Royal Naval base in a speedboat named Taliban wearing a turban and brandishing an anti-ship missile launcher! Following which, further calls were made to the Harbour Control from other vessles, as one by one, other craft I’d seen bobbing about, that I’d assumed to be fishing, started calling up for PERMISSION to enter the harbour, SIR! The DHC response was attached with ‘Sir’ too! Following the earful, and still somewhat shaken by the ticking off, I was given, among a host of whispered instructions, a berth numbered 25 on the North side together with a complex description of its location – something to do with the North wall; but first had to loiter around with other craft for the next obstacle - a road bridge to open which, it promptly did at 6:15 - to let me and the small queue in. Once inside, the inner harbour is crammed full almost to bursting point and there’s little room either side of vessels moored both to the harbour wall and on a finger pontoon that threads its way through the middle. In some places boats are rafted up to the harbour wall in pairs, narrowing the clearances still further. Google it and see what I mean!
Motoring gingerly, I passed on my left the finger pontoon and an empty berth numbered 25; but along the North wall were also numbered berths, so on the assumption, that’s what I’d been allocated, made my way further and further up the narrowing marina and eventually moored up against a semi derelict wreck of boat that seemed to me to be too dangerous to clamber over, but needs must; and she was on N 25 (North?). Her cabin roof groaned under my weight as I climbed over her and up a ladder to make Equinox fast. Out of my oilies, I then made my way to the harbour office, located, I was told, by a loitering onlooker, where the ferry terminal was – a good 5 minute walk away! So off I set to the terminal building, then up in a lift to the 2nd floor only to be told that office was for the outer harbour and I needed the inner harbour office which was closed, down the other end of the inner harbour, and also that I’d moored on the wrong 25 – as I’d missed the word pontoon in the quietly spoken list of instructions! So back to Equinox, start the engine, untie and 6 point turn her around with barely enough room to swing a cat in, after first shipping my bowsprit - I had no choice - to again thread my way back along to the berth on the finger pontoon in the middle of the harbour; which I’d spotted earlier, that could only be addressed from one direction, so had to pass it, turn around and come back. And in the middle of doing all this, the rain went from drizzle to a downpour, so got thoroughly soaked through to add to my general despair.
Safely moored once again, I put on oilies over my damp clothes and headed along the pontoon to make amends, only to be faced with a barrier that had a push button exit that needed a card for re-entry. I dared not risk using it, in case only the inner harbour office could issue the card, thus leaving me stranded and boatless. Resigned, I returned to Equinox, closed the hatch which prompted the rain to fall even harder, if that were possible. I’d made the right call to call and eat in, it seemed. Stripping off and putting on a clean set of dry clothes I was fully tuned and overdue for a self-congratulatory bidet of beer, so opened the ‘Speckled Hen’ locker under the starboard bunk to be greeted by an all too familiar 6 inches of water! A burst water tank again, surely not! One by one the starboard lockers were opened and each was accompanied by a fresh groan of despair. The cardboard wine boxes had disintegrated leaving me with their silvery implants to wobble a drink from. The sail cover and cockpit awning soaked, fishing tackle soaked and tins yet again label less! Eventually I worked my way forward to the water tank locker, cleaning as I went, expecting to find another tear in the new bladder, only to find that the hose connecting the tank to the external filler cap had disconnected itself. As it had not been touched for ten years and never leaked a drop, I can’t see how it had worked loose, but loose it was! Soaked in sweat from my pumping, purging and mopping exertions, the first Hen went down without its feathers touching the sides some two hours later; and still ravenously hungry and tired from 8 hours of sailing, quickly rustled up a full monty fry-up before falling into my bunk completely exhausted!
I need another holiday already!
With the early morning sun, still low in clear sky with just a hint of a breeze ruffling the sea, I motored parallel with the mile long breakwater; hoisting the mainsail as I went; and reminisced about the wonderful evening spent with Ronnie and Nigel, following a gentle sail on Moneypenny, their deliciously equipped yacht. They stay at ‘The Point’ which proudly sits on Rhoscolyn’s headland with the most breathtaking views of Snowdonia and the Llynn Peninsula in the distance. Supper in a newly built conservatory was perfect; made more so by being treated to a spectacular Turneresque sunset, following which, a lemon moon gently died in its own reflection in a still sea. Thank you!
As the breeze gently heeled Equinox to starboard, as we turned North, at the end of the breakwater, I let fly the staysail then the jib; a final act, committing Equinox to the passage ahead and far out into the Irish Sea. The time 08:10. Gathering pace, as the tide made it presence felt; and leaving The Skerries to starboard, the wind gradually gave of its best and with it, at rewarding 6 knots under topsail.
Five empty hours later and still on the same tack, with not a hint of land in sight and just the odd seabird for company, the sky clouded over, as forecasted, and with it, the temperature took a tumble, along with the visibility; prompting a change into oilies. Two hours later, first the island, then Douglas appeared out of the mist and when I guessed there was less than 30 minutes motoring time remaining, started the engine to charge a very tired slave battery, while reducing sail, calling up Douglas Harbour Control for berthing instructions and letting Liverpool Coastguard know I'd arrived. A rather terse response from Douglous Harbour Control proffering a list of instructions that involved waiting for an unseen ship to enter, then to a further wait until 6:15 for the bridge to lift and then finally to call them again, once the ship had docked, for yet more instructions; at the same time they took details of Equinox, where I’d come from, length and draft, surname and contact details, number of crew, etc, etc. Heaven’s above, I want a berth for a night or two, not a bloody mortgage! Come on DHP, you’re located on an island in the middle of the Irish Sea, wherever you’ve arrived from in a little yacht, you’ve sailed at least 40-50 miles! If you then discover you’re talking to a solo yachtsman, as you did, who has just sailed 54 miles, welcome him in, be gentle with him and not make the whole experience fraught! It’s tough enough as it is, coming into a strange harbour single handed, without throwing the local harbour rule book at him. If it's that important have it printed in Reeds, so we know in advance!
Ten minutes later out of the mist, a steam packet ferry hove into view and entered the multi harbour complex, a signal, so I thought, to follow it in at a respectable distance – at least 400 yards behind. Barely underway and watching her expertly spin around and reverse into her berth, I kept my distance, only to receive a dressing down on the radio, that I’d illegally entered the harbour! A scolding that sounded as though I’d strayed into a Royal Naval base in a speedboat named Taliban wearing a turban and brandishing an anti-ship missile launcher! Following which, further calls were made to the Harbour Control from other vessles, as one by one, other craft I’d seen bobbing about, that I’d assumed to be fishing, started calling up for PERMISSION to enter the harbour, SIR! The DHC response was attached with ‘Sir’ too! Following the earful, and still somewhat shaken by the ticking off, I was given, among a host of whispered instructions, a berth numbered 25 on the North side together with a complex description of its location – something to do with the North wall; but first had to loiter around with other craft for the next obstacle - a road bridge to open which, it promptly did at 6:15 - to let me and the small queue in. Once inside, the inner harbour is crammed full almost to bursting point and there’s little room either side of vessels moored both to the harbour wall and on a finger pontoon that threads its way through the middle. In some places boats are rafted up to the harbour wall in pairs, narrowing the clearances still further. Google it and see what I mean!
Motoring gingerly, I passed on my left the finger pontoon and an empty berth numbered 25; but along the North wall were also numbered berths, so on the assumption, that’s what I’d been allocated, made my way further and further up the narrowing marina and eventually moored up against a semi derelict wreck of boat that seemed to me to be too dangerous to clamber over, but needs must; and she was on N 25 (North?). Her cabin roof groaned under my weight as I climbed over her and up a ladder to make Equinox fast. Out of my oilies, I then made my way to the harbour office, located, I was told, by a loitering onlooker, where the ferry terminal was – a good 5 minute walk away! So off I set to the terminal building, then up in a lift to the 2nd floor only to be told that office was for the outer harbour and I needed the inner harbour office which was closed, down the other end of the inner harbour, and also that I’d moored on the wrong 25 – as I’d missed the word pontoon in the quietly spoken list of instructions! So back to Equinox, start the engine, untie and 6 point turn her around with barely enough room to swing a cat in, after first shipping my bowsprit - I had no choice - to again thread my way back along to the berth on the finger pontoon in the middle of the harbour; which I’d spotted earlier, that could only be addressed from one direction, so had to pass it, turn around and come back. And in the middle of doing all this, the rain went from drizzle to a downpour, so got thoroughly soaked through to add to my general despair.
Safely moored once again, I put on oilies over my damp clothes and headed along the pontoon to make amends, only to be faced with a barrier that had a push button exit that needed a card for re-entry. I dared not risk using it, in case only the inner harbour office could issue the card, thus leaving me stranded and boatless. Resigned, I returned to Equinox, closed the hatch which prompted the rain to fall even harder, if that were possible. I’d made the right call to call and eat in, it seemed. Stripping off and putting on a clean set of dry clothes I was fully tuned and overdue for a self-congratulatory bidet of beer, so opened the ‘Speckled Hen’ locker under the starboard bunk to be greeted by an all too familiar 6 inches of water! A burst water tank again, surely not! One by one the starboard lockers were opened and each was accompanied by a fresh groan of despair. The cardboard wine boxes had disintegrated leaving me with their silvery implants to wobble a drink from. The sail cover and cockpit awning soaked, fishing tackle soaked and tins yet again label less! Eventually I worked my way forward to the water tank locker, cleaning as I went, expecting to find another tear in the new bladder, only to find that the hose connecting the tank to the external filler cap had disconnected itself. As it had not been touched for ten years and never leaked a drop, I can’t see how it had worked loose, but loose it was! Soaked in sweat from my pumping, purging and mopping exertions, the first Hen went down without its feathers touching the sides some two hours later; and still ravenously hungry and tired from 8 hours of sailing, quickly rustled up a full monty fry-up before falling into my bunk completely exhausted!
I need another holiday already!
Sunday, 15 August 2010
Still all set to go – Holyhead - August 15th
Having feasted like a King with the Vernon’s last night and delivered back to Equinox before midnight, thought it time to give the engine the once over with a view to leaving first thing on the flood tide. A ten minute job at most; I started by checking engine and gearbox oil levels, the two belts and finally the two fuel filters. Surprisingly, the primary fuel filter had both water and grubby sediment, so decided to wash up, go to bed and tackle fitting a replacement with better light, first thing in the morning. So, after wolfing down a Kellogg or two at 8am with milky coffee, I set about fitting the new cartridge and then decided to replace the smaller filter before bleeding the whole caboodle of air. Then feeling virtuous, decided that as the engine has been run for mostly battery charging duties, an oil and filter change would make sense, so tacked that. All screwed back together the little two cylinder Yanmar burst into life on the first attempt. A nice warm glow, from a job well done and little bit of extra insurance, I feel!
That leads me to comment on Holyhead Marina. When making a berthing reservation and telling them about this challenge they immediately offered FOC board and lodging for Equinox. A hugely generous offer and one the Prostate Cancer Charity will benefit from. There’s much to praise it too. Not least Sue and all the marina staff, who made me and everyone welcome and manage all the comings and goings very efficiently. They’ve given a lot of thought to what yachtsman want. Excellent showers, free WiFi, use of a computer with printer, a shop and chandlery and even a nearby hair salon and cafe! A nearby yacht club has a great range of beers and good homemade meals to add to the self contained nature of the marina. Without doubt, one of the very best I’ve ever visited.
Just as I finished servicing the engine, a squadron of immaculate Half Raters from Treaddur Bay came into the marina, a beautiful sight on a glorious sunny day such as this, each one given much love an attention, as racing is highly competitive and taken all too seriously for many.
Showered and settling back on board with charts and tidal stream maps, an outline of the next few days sailing is taking shape, waypoints entered and goodbye’s said to the Marina and neighbouring yachts. The phone then rang and Nigel and Ronnie invited me to supper with them tonight at The Point, back in Rhoscolyn...! Enough said!
Tomorrow I’ll be gone. Douglas on the Isle of Man, the destination – 51 miles away.
That leads me to comment on Holyhead Marina. When making a berthing reservation and telling them about this challenge they immediately offered FOC board and lodging for Equinox. A hugely generous offer and one the Prostate Cancer Charity will benefit from. There’s much to praise it too. Not least Sue and all the marina staff, who made me and everyone welcome and manage all the comings and goings very efficiently. They’ve given a lot of thought to what yachtsman want. Excellent showers, free WiFi, use of a computer with printer, a shop and chandlery and even a nearby hair salon and cafe! A nearby yacht club has a great range of beers and good homemade meals to add to the self contained nature of the marina. Without doubt, one of the very best I’ve ever visited.
Just as I finished servicing the engine, a squadron of immaculate Half Raters from Treaddur Bay came into the marina, a beautiful sight on a glorious sunny day such as this, each one given much love an attention, as racing is highly competitive and taken all too seriously for many.
Showered and settling back on board with charts and tidal stream maps, an outline of the next few days sailing is taking shape, waypoints entered and goodbye’s said to the Marina and neighbouring yachts. The phone then rang and Nigel and Ronnie invited me to supper with them tonight at The Point, back in Rhoscolyn...! Enough said!
Tomorrow I’ll be gone. Douglas on the Isle of Man, the destination – 51 miles away.
All set to go – Holyhead - August 14th
I never did get around to fettling the boat as planned but climbed Snowdon instead with Gina and her half brother Fred and his wife Gayle - both keen experienced walkers. A three hour climb up into the clouds to join a throng of soaking wet, blue lipped, but curiously exhilarated climbers in the cafe at the top. As we dripped, munching sandwiches and looking somewhat shell-shocked, the rain hammered on the windows and the odd sulphurous gust blew through the doors hinting at the steam train waiting outside. The idea of taking it down rather appealing, other than from the fact that we’d left the car the other side of the mountain, complicating things no end. The odd view of the Menai Strait, Anglesey and the stunning foothills on the way up and down, made the climb truly memorable; as was the hot chocolate at the cafe - simply delicious! The Oggie, eaten with it, not so –a giant tepid Welsh equivalent of a Cornish pasty filled with a glutinous mix of stewed cow together with the odd chunk of potato to give it some substance; was grim.
The climb down, as stiffness set in, was equally tough, as the cold bit through soaking wet trousers while complaining joints were given a good hammering and chilled feet sloshed about in wet climbing boots!
Getting out of bed on Friday morning, found me so stiff I could hardly walk. The best thing to do, everyone said, was walk it off, so opted to join another 6 mile walk from King Arthur's Table to Red Wharf Bay and back. An easy decision, as the wind has swung around to the North, making even Laser sailing horrid in Rhoscolyn Bay.
So here you find me on Saturday evening on Equinox having vacated and cleaned the house; fully fettled and fuelled and still horribly stiff! As my next stop is the Isle of Man a conservative quantity of Speckled Hen accompanies me, as it may be a rare breed up there. Bless Holyhead Tesco for stocking it.
James Vernon, a sailing chum called earlier on and has asked me to join his family for dinner tonight back in Rhoscolyn! So I’m showered and shaved and decked out in my best pink drinking trousers.
Crew from incoming yachts say the Irish Sea is rough and some plan to remain here until things improve. Not a good omen!
The climb down, as stiffness set in, was equally tough, as the cold bit through soaking wet trousers while complaining joints were given a good hammering and chilled feet sloshed about in wet climbing boots!
Getting out of bed on Friday morning, found me so stiff I could hardly walk. The best thing to do, everyone said, was walk it off, so opted to join another 6 mile walk from King Arthur's Table to Red Wharf Bay and back. An easy decision, as the wind has swung around to the North, making even Laser sailing horrid in Rhoscolyn Bay.
So here you find me on Saturday evening on Equinox having vacated and cleaned the house; fully fettled and fuelled and still horribly stiff! As my next stop is the Isle of Man a conservative quantity of Speckled Hen accompanies me, as it may be a rare breed up there. Bless Holyhead Tesco for stocking it.
James Vernon, a sailing chum called earlier on and has asked me to join his family for dinner tonight back in Rhoscolyn! So I’m showered and shaved and decked out in my best pink drinking trousers.
Crew from incoming yachts say the Irish Sea is rough and some plan to remain here until things improve. Not a good omen!
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
Getting ready to get ready - 11th August
A complete break from Equinox has been a tonic. The monotonous self-inflicted diet replaced by wonderful home cooking, full of variety. A watery world replaced by the vibrancy of a landscape full of butterflies, lush ancient stone hedgerows overgrown with wild flowers; alive with insects and ancient rocky fields full of cattle and sheep. How wonderful to have meals accompanied with conversation and laughter; to hear differing views and fresh ideas and to simply catch up with family and friends. To walk the spectacular headlands and coastline of Anglesey, excitedly finding mushrooms to complement our huge breakfasts. Long treks to empty bays, inlets and deserted beaches fill our days as do regular trips to the 'White Eagle', a nearby pub - having worked up a good thirst thrashing the lasers around the bay and out into the Irish Sea. To stock up on home made pickles and jams and organic flour from a working windmill and to repeat activities that have filled holidays for for most of my life. Nothing can beat it.
The weather has been kind to us... and long may it continue, for today, after ten days of not going near her, I'm off to Holyhead Marina, to start preparing Equinox for the next phase - filling her tanks with water and diesel and starting the process of restocking her with provisions. A lot has been learnt from the first phase - not least, mark each can with a waterproof pen!
I'm not sleeping so well now; waking early and fretting about this and that and whether I've left the tip of Scotland a bit too late, as many have suggested.
Put those negative thoughts to one side and focus on the challenge ahead, is what I keep telling myself.
But it's not easy!
The weather has been kind to us... and long may it continue, for today, after ten days of not going near her, I'm off to Holyhead Marina, to start preparing Equinox for the next phase - filling her tanks with water and diesel and starting the process of restocking her with provisions. A lot has been learnt from the first phase - not least, mark each can with a waterproof pen!
I'm not sleeping so well now; waking early and fretting about this and that and whether I've left the tip of Scotland a bit too late, as many have suggested.
Put those negative thoughts to one side and focus on the challenge ahead, is what I keep telling myself.
But it's not easy!
Monday, 2 August 2010
Reflections - lessons learned - One third of the way round - August 3rd
To put my mind at ease, I’ve repeatedly asked myself, whether I’ve put the boat in any precarious situations; either through poor planning, carelessness, stupidity or simply lacking appropriate sailing skills, needed for such an endeavour as this? I really don’t think I have! But, and it’s a big but, I’ve also been luckily insofar as there have been no equipment failures or serious breakages to cope with; which, could easily have happened during one of a number of un planned gybes ; when the helmsman’s attention waivered - dolphins and gannets have a particular fascination.
Have I always sailed safely? Yes... with one or two silly oversights very early on. And as long as ‘safely’ is interpreted as having a heavy reliance on modern electronic charting technology, GPS, Navtex, Yeoman Plotter and supporting depth, wind, speed and graphic displays to constantly reassure me.
Could I have navigated just as safely using traditional navigational techniques - without much of the electronic kit? No! I am neither nimble enough of mind, nor do I have the constitution to spend time below at the chart table, plotting bearings, factoring in tide, leeway and boat speed onto charts while hanging on to the chart table for grim life. If I go below, even for a minute or two, I start to feel a little queasy. Sailing, for me, is helming the boat as effectively and as safely as possible in any given set of circumstances– maximising the rate of progress while enjoying the coastline, if visible, along with the sea and bird life. In doing so, I exploit the GPS wizardry to provide the data needed to reappraise the unfolding passage plan and make real-time changes, as and when required. I’m sure Nelson would have offered his other arm for the same capacity, had he been alive today.
Passage plans do have a habit of needing a tweak here and there as the day unfolds - changes in the predicted wind and wave action curtailing anticipated progress. I’m also a very reluctant engine starter too, during a passage; for a number of reasons, not least the intrusive noise it makes but I’ve developed a habit of motoring the last mile or two anyway, to recharge the two batteries; on which I rely so heavily; while tidying away sails and preparing the boat for mooring; talking to the marina and fendering up, etc, so try and only use the engine once at the beginning and once at the end of a day's sailing.
There’s still quite a bit of pre-passage preparation to do. Tidal gates for both marinas and harbours, depth clearances, races, wind and weather factors to take a view on; to give both a departure time and anticipated arrival time – not least, the best route to take. Then, there are the secondary ports to plan an escape to - 'In the event of' - and a host of ’What If’s’ to satisfy – all are confidence building as you recheck your figures and then enter the waypoint data into your Chart Plotter, then again in the back-up GPS and finally in one of the two portable GPS’s. Finally, as I sail along, every 60 minutes, I plot my exact position on a paper chart using my Yeoman Plotter. As a matter or routine, I also file a passage plan with the Coastguard who want an ETA and who then expect a call from you to say you’ve arrived and, I take considerable pride in being as exact as I can.
Have I scared myself? Oh Yes, and probably half a dozen times too! Why? I think it’s because I forget or, perhaps, have discovered, that I’m not as strong or as agile, as I used to be or, thought I would need to be to cope with some of the conditions experienced. Examples of where I have floundered a bit are; going forward, on a heaving deck, to release a sheet caught in a fairlead or round a block or, when putting in a long series of tacks in rough conditions, where I find myself succumbing to the sheer physical demands needed.
Picture if you can typical tack in roughish conditions. Firstly, the tiller is jammed under one arm or in the small of the back, or even between your buttocks/legs to hold it where it needs to be. And as you’re running the risk of being catapulted around the cockpit, so your knees are both braced against the cockpit sides, while at the same time, first freeing up and then tightening the two backstays then freeing off and tightening the four sheets – jib nad staysail!; while making damn sure you keep your head well down, so you’re not knocked unconscious by the 100lb solid wood boom flaying about inches above your head! Then, for added entertainment, have the odd bucket of water thrown at you from time to time, while tap dancing on a bird’s nest of rope ends on the cockpit floor; with you always, it seems, standing on the one you bloody well need! Then factor in Equinox’s hull length of just 24ft 6’, which, even in moderate seas can have her bow thrown back by wind and wave, as you go through the tack; and as she does not point as close to the wind as a Bermuda rigged yacht, she sometimes falls back onto the previous tack with the palaver of repeating the exercise again after building up enough speed to have a second attempt. And yes, it sometimes fails again for a third time; leaving you cursing out loud for carrying too much sail and cocking thing's up! Believe me, it can get tiring!
My judgement, on occasions, has been questionable too. For example, it is so easy to get exhilarated at your magnificent progress when storming along in 20 knots of wind on a broad reach or run; especially, if you’ve the help of a favourable tide. Add the tide of, say 3 knots, with the boat speed of, say 6 knots together and subtract the combined speed over the ground of 9’ish knots from the true wind speed of 20 knots; gives you an apparent wind speed of just 11 knots. Equinox feels as though she’s coping easily. But turn into the wind to put a reef in, and all hell breaks loose! Too many times I’ve left it rather too late and regretted it! Then there was the Aberyswyth event, when I simply could not stand up without using both legs and arms to hold on - and only then, just about helm the boat. Put simply, I should not have been at sea on that day – poor passage planning by failing to interpret the weather forecast correctly and getting it from two sources to double check! Lesson learnt!
I write this having spent the last three day at the beach and most of that thrashing about on a laser getting thoroughly cold and wet. What ridiculous behaviour for a chap of my age?
Footnote:
There's a newly arrived and rather scruffy cormorant on the headland, often found with his wings outstretched, drying himself in the sun, who eye's me as I sail past, rather knowingly. He's the only one on the rock among hundreds of common gulls who roost there.
Colin? No surely not,,,,,,,,,,,,!
Have I always sailed safely? Yes... with one or two silly oversights very early on. And as long as ‘safely’ is interpreted as having a heavy reliance on modern electronic charting technology, GPS, Navtex, Yeoman Plotter and supporting depth, wind, speed and graphic displays to constantly reassure me.
Could I have navigated just as safely using traditional navigational techniques - without much of the electronic kit? No! I am neither nimble enough of mind, nor do I have the constitution to spend time below at the chart table, plotting bearings, factoring in tide, leeway and boat speed onto charts while hanging on to the chart table for grim life. If I go below, even for a minute or two, I start to feel a little queasy. Sailing, for me, is helming the boat as effectively and as safely as possible in any given set of circumstances– maximising the rate of progress while enjoying the coastline, if visible, along with the sea and bird life. In doing so, I exploit the GPS wizardry to provide the data needed to reappraise the unfolding passage plan and make real-time changes, as and when required. I’m sure Nelson would have offered his other arm for the same capacity, had he been alive today.
Passage plans do have a habit of needing a tweak here and there as the day unfolds - changes in the predicted wind and wave action curtailing anticipated progress. I’m also a very reluctant engine starter too, during a passage; for a number of reasons, not least the intrusive noise it makes but I’ve developed a habit of motoring the last mile or two anyway, to recharge the two batteries; on which I rely so heavily; while tidying away sails and preparing the boat for mooring; talking to the marina and fendering up, etc, so try and only use the engine once at the beginning and once at the end of a day's sailing.
There’s still quite a bit of pre-passage preparation to do. Tidal gates for both marinas and harbours, depth clearances, races, wind and weather factors to take a view on; to give both a departure time and anticipated arrival time – not least, the best route to take. Then, there are the secondary ports to plan an escape to - 'In the event of' - and a host of ’What If’s’ to satisfy – all are confidence building as you recheck your figures and then enter the waypoint data into your Chart Plotter, then again in the back-up GPS and finally in one of the two portable GPS’s. Finally, as I sail along, every 60 minutes, I plot my exact position on a paper chart using my Yeoman Plotter. As a matter or routine, I also file a passage plan with the Coastguard who want an ETA and who then expect a call from you to say you’ve arrived and, I take considerable pride in being as exact as I can.
Have I scared myself? Oh Yes, and probably half a dozen times too! Why? I think it’s because I forget or, perhaps, have discovered, that I’m not as strong or as agile, as I used to be or, thought I would need to be to cope with some of the conditions experienced. Examples of where I have floundered a bit are; going forward, on a heaving deck, to release a sheet caught in a fairlead or round a block or, when putting in a long series of tacks in rough conditions, where I find myself succumbing to the sheer physical demands needed.
Picture if you can typical tack in roughish conditions. Firstly, the tiller is jammed under one arm or in the small of the back, or even between your buttocks/legs to hold it where it needs to be. And as you’re running the risk of being catapulted around the cockpit, so your knees are both braced against the cockpit sides, while at the same time, first freeing up and then tightening the two backstays then freeing off and tightening the four sheets – jib nad staysail!; while making damn sure you keep your head well down, so you’re not knocked unconscious by the 100lb solid wood boom flaying about inches above your head! Then, for added entertainment, have the odd bucket of water thrown at you from time to time, while tap dancing on a bird’s nest of rope ends on the cockpit floor; with you always, it seems, standing on the one you bloody well need! Then factor in Equinox’s hull length of just 24ft 6’, which, even in moderate seas can have her bow thrown back by wind and wave, as you go through the tack; and as she does not point as close to the wind as a Bermuda rigged yacht, she sometimes falls back onto the previous tack with the palaver of repeating the exercise again after building up enough speed to have a second attempt. And yes, it sometimes fails again for a third time; leaving you cursing out loud for carrying too much sail and cocking thing's up! Believe me, it can get tiring!
My judgement, on occasions, has been questionable too. For example, it is so easy to get exhilarated at your magnificent progress when storming along in 20 knots of wind on a broad reach or run; especially, if you’ve the help of a favourable tide. Add the tide of, say 3 knots, with the boat speed of, say 6 knots together and subtract the combined speed over the ground of 9’ish knots from the true wind speed of 20 knots; gives you an apparent wind speed of just 11 knots. Equinox feels as though she’s coping easily. But turn into the wind to put a reef in, and all hell breaks loose! Too many times I’ve left it rather too late and regretted it! Then there was the Aberyswyth event, when I simply could not stand up without using both legs and arms to hold on - and only then, just about helm the boat. Put simply, I should not have been at sea on that day – poor passage planning by failing to interpret the weather forecast correctly and getting it from two sources to double check! Lesson learnt!
I write this having spent the last three day at the beach and most of that thrashing about on a laser getting thoroughly cold and wet. What ridiculous behaviour for a chap of my age?
Footnote:
There's a newly arrived and rather scruffy cormorant on the headland, often found with his wings outstretched, drying himself in the sun, who eye's me as I sail past, rather knowingly. He's the only one on the rock among hundreds of common gulls who roost there.
Colin? No surely not,,,,,,,,,,,,!
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