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.

Sunday 10 October 2010

Wells Next the Sea - Sea Palling - 9th October

A desperately grey and gusty day found me pinned to the pontoon by the wind; with few if any other boats on the move: other than two hardy folk out on lasers, having a ball. A fishing boat full of jolly anglers left at 6am and were back looking very pale and dejected by 7am!
   Today was going to be a tough one. The target a man made series of reefs at a place called Sea Palling; mentioned nowhere including Reeds and my pilot books. The reefs show on Google Earth; so they must be there. I managed to back off the pontoon and was swept out on a spring tide around an obstacle course of buoys. Wells bar is horrid; breaking waves on shallow banks are very uncomfortable and with the tide now on the nose; along with the wind, it took me ages to clear. It rather forget the next 5 hours of uncomfortable motoring; but eventually I rounded the nose of Norfolk; enough to first hoist the mainsail, that added half a knot, then the staysail and finally the jib, as the wind came good – being directly from the East. But just as the wind came good so the tide turned foul for the second time; now heading North with me heading South! Motor sailing in lumpy sea is wet business and I arrived thoroughly cold, damp and tired just as it started to get dark. The only highlight was a tiny little green tit that blipped into the cockpit, after blipping around the stern railing and seagull engine for 20 seconds looking for a perch. Eventually it landed in the cockpit, warily looked at me with one black shiny eye, before pooing on my marmite sandwich that I'd onlys just retreived from the fridge. Off it went without even a sorry! Sandwich over the side!
   The gap between the fifth and sixth reef is marked with cardinals but once through you only have a couple of meters of depth to play with. I picked my spot, dropped the anchor and as it bit quickly realised I was not going to get any sleep; Equinox being thrown all over the place as she tugged this way and that on her anchor. An anchor snubber helped take the worst out of the jolts; but not by much. I felt sick too, as soon as I went below, so listened to music and hung on in the cockpit drinking the warm remains of a thermos of coffee. The hours dragged by; the spring tide making the reefs almost redundant; incoming swell passing over it; covering me with foam. What a battering we both took. By 5am I’d had enough. Time to get on the move and make the best of the flood tide.

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