During the first day of June 2010 I set sail in 'Equinox' my 24ft 6' Cornish Crabber from Chichester Marina and headed West down the Solent on a once in a lifetime adventure. Three and a half months later I completed my challenge; having sailed solo around the entire UK; visiting the Scillies, Ireland, Wales, Scotland and the Hebrides; going with huge trepidation over the top via Cape Wrath - the 'big right turn', before the next 'big right turn' heading south, at John o'Groats. This blog is my diary, written most evenings as I took stock of the day's progress; often with a huge lump of Cheddar cheese in hand and a pint of Speckled Hen to keep it company. Sometimes I was almost in tears; tiredness and frustration having taken its toll. Other nights exhuberant after breathtakingly beautiful passages along our stunning coastline with favourable following winds. It describes the ups and downs; the tears and laughter; the extraordinary kindness shown by complete strangers who offered a tired sailor in their midst refuge, solace, warmth and company; their generosity often humbling. My hormones were, I'm sure, in a mess making me perhaps rather vulnerble; as just six months earlier I'd endured the surgical removal of a cancerous prostate gland; laprascopically - a six hour procedure that left me physically weaker than before. You can read the background to the illness and the reasons for the challenge - to raise awareness of this terribe disease; that could have so easily have killed me elsewhere on this blog.

I am indebted to many; and recorded their names elsewhere; but as I reflect on the voyage many months later, I have not fully sung the praise of Cornish Crabbers, the builders of my sturdy little yacht and Roger Dongray the yacht's brilliant designer who drew upon a hull shape that had developed over hundreds of years by men who worked and fished at sea and whose very life depended on their vessel's seaworthiness. It's long keel, sail configuration and weight distribution in seemingly monsterous seas; quite incredible for a yacht so small. A Crabber 24 is not the swiftest yacht to be had for her size, for sure. But what she lacks in that respect she makes up for by her abilty to take heavy weather and harsh conditions in her stride. Built solidly without compromise, Equinox delivered me safely home after a voyage of well over 2500 miles in some of the most hostile and dangerously tidal waters you can find anywhere in Europe. In Wales, for example, the RNLI were phoned by an experienced commercial fisherman watching Equinox from his harbourside office; reporting to them, that a yacht was struggling in heavy seas and a F7 a mile outside the harbour entrance. By the time the lifeboat had been launched, I was tucked up in Aberystwyth marina; a little bruised and battered it has to be said, but safe and sound; I never even saw the lifeboat!

I've recently set up the blog so that readers can cover numerous diary entries in one go. To access earlier diary entries just click on the link 'Older Posts' at the foot of each page. Only a few clicks are needed to get to the entries at the beginning of the voyage and my preparation beforehand.

I hope you enjoy reading it; and if you do, or have done, please be kind enough to leave me a message. For which, in anticipation, I thank you.
The voyage also raised over £10,000 for the Prostate Cancer Charity - not my main goal but those who donated on my 'Just Giving ' page made a huge contribution too; as I was notified by email of each donation as it was made; each raising my spirits immeasurably. My main goal was to encourage 2500 men to get PSA tested - one for each mile sailed; and I beleive that goal was achieved too. And finally, I would also like to thank the growing number of men who have, both during and after the voyage ended, taken a PSA test, as a result of the publicty the voyage attracted; been diagnosed with the disease and taken the time and trouble to email me.

Saturday, 2 October 2010

Amble - day 2 - 1st Octobber

Compelled to remain on board all day as the wind howled around the marina, accompanied by near horizontal rain that battered Equinox until 19:30; when it suddenly and unexpectantly stilled. With renewed enthusiasm, I hope to be on the move again tomorrow; but around us the isobars are so tightly grouped that the predicted short break in the grim weather could change the current forecast beyond all recognition. As always, I'll take a view first thing in the morning.
   Ruth, Paul and I decided to take a stroll up to the Pizza place, hoping to find a table; finding it booked solid until 9pm; though it worth the wait, so went for a drink nearby. The meal, nearly as good as last night's, was followed by a visit to the local Karaoke pub. In my wildest dreams I've never seen such horrific mutants try and keep up with the machine. Being out of tune, is one thing; not keeping in time another; but when you're 60 dressed like a teenager and can't read the screen without glasses as thick as the bottom of Coke bottles, that made them look like owls; then surely it's time to surrender to Father Time. Not one bit of it, they all had hair died so black that they looked like Goths; amateur tattoos of Dennis the Menace on exposed bits of dimpled flesh, that I'd have long ago wrapped up in something long-sleeved -  ideally a body bag. Those Italian Salami you see hanging in shops, grey with mold, came to mind. Sadly, these harpies queued up to massacre tune after tune; my pint of beer being left half consumed on the bar; so awful the vision, I just had to leave. Never, I repeat never, have I done that before! Had Churchill had them at his disposal the war would have ended in 1942. Our Minister of Defence, should scrap the Typhoon fighter, the Aircraft Carrier order and the Trident submarine replacements;  I've just found all we'll ever need.  Fly them to Afganistan, put them on a loudspeaker and Osama would come out of his cave pleading to be taken into custody.
Ruth and Paul had sensibly gone ahead to shop at one of those late night Tesco places. I'll sleep well tonight as long as Amble's version of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' video doesn't feature in my dreams; if indeed I'm capable of falling asleep, being so traumatised. It would help if all the local dogs would stop howling too!
........................No, I 've just realised it's not dogs; they're at it again, slaughtering 'My Way'
Sorry Frank!
 
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