For a week now I've been sitting in a small marina called Town Quay in Southampton. A few days ago my crew arrived and my skipper removed all my old tired batteries and replaced them with brand new ones, he even finished off the wiring for to the new shore power battery charger, so I have plenty of power back. The bow thruster will be back in action, (when my skipper allows !) and may be other electrical gremlins may recover. They are still as a result of the port window falling out and taking on board tonnes of sea water !
With everything tightened, my lines were cast and I set off at a leisurely pace to Totland Bay once more, where an overnight stop gave a timely getaway in the morning to see the ebbing tide through the Needles. But hang on, I wasn't heading west but almost due south into a glassy sea, with brilliant sunshine, but unfortunately, no wind. So my skippers time servicing the Yanmar wasn't wasted as I ticked over, skipper and crew desperately looking for the faintest of wind to try to sail, all to no avail. Anse De St Martin, took a while to get to and difficult to spot, until you look in the pilot guide and look for the nuclear power station ! Still the bay itself masked the horrors behind the hill and was a quaint spot. So a night under anchor brought to a close a long day.
According to the skippers passage plan, the next stop was to be Beaucette, Guernsey, a small marina, a bit like my old home of Inverkip, an ex quarry whose entrance had been blasted so incredibly narrow. However the wind had filled in over night and Anse being just behind the headland lead to some confused seas just outside. So confused, that any attempts to head west just knocked the wind out of me and dropped boat speed to a level where control became an issue. A quick change of mind sent me east to Cherbourg, unfortunately the plan had the tide heading west and in France it seems you either go with it or you don't go, so another long day going slowly but eventually after about 8-9 hours the tide changed just as we arrived at the entrance.
A couple of nights and a re-think later, once more I headed back out across the French coast, tide behind this time and some reasonable wind. I bit the bullet, 9.0 knots but not to Guernsey but Alderney, Braye to be exact. We almost sailed all the way, but alas the wind dies again late afternoon, so on went the engine and we made our way through all the others and anchored. However, just as my crew were turning for the night. high tide was approaching and with around 10,0m of tidal range my anchor soon became dislodged. Off went my alarm and soon I was amongst a Dutch boat, nice way to meet people but not at that time ! So I was moved back whence I came but with more chain out for a restful night under the celestial event- that of a band of shooting stars.
From Braye, we weighed anchor and my skipper steered me west through the Swinge, another band of tidal races that is to the north of Alderney. Timing spot on the flow was to the rear of me, as again under motor, we headed to Guernsey, not Beaucette as per the passage plan but on to Saints Bay on the south coast, the planned second stop for the island. Despite having the main up, the wind again was being dictated by the high pressure and I motor sailed. Once I arrived at Big Russell, the tide came in strong and we flew past St Peter Port at 12.3 knots, so strong in fact that a small harmless wave reached the foredeck and removed the starboard navigation lense cover from its base. Probably loosened from the previous nights gathering at anchor with the Dutch.
With all the knowledge my skipper has of being under anchor now, a quiet night prevailed, no creaking, no humming and with no wind came little in the way of swell.
It wasn't long after breakfast that I was away again, heading for our next scheduled stop of Les Sept Isle's of the coast of France, a group of - yes you've guessed it, seven islands that is a bird sanctuary. However, not only was the wind not playing ball, but the tide too seemed against me and my speed over the ground fell to around 3 knots. This gave my crew a dilemma, to continue as planned and arrive in a rock strewn group of islands in the early hours or alter plans.
So once more the wheel went over and I was again heading east, to Jersey. St Heiler, has a sill and on arrival I could see all the other boats within the marina and the face of the cill. So was taken to the other side of St Aubin's Bay where once more the anchor was deployed, under the protection of a small cliff. With plans being re-arranged, the following morning I was off once more heading further south than I've ever been before. Through the Minkies, or that's what my skipper called them, a group of rocks and a so called islands in the middle of no where. Carefully negotiating the peaks beneath the waters and heading yet further south, unfortunately for my crew, motor sailing in what little breeze there was.
The there before me came the another coast line strewn with huge light houses perched on rock formations, however my skipper new this route and led me in to the town of St Malo a walled town, fortified throughout its history. However as always it seems in France, tide was all but gone and the lock into the marina would not open till 2330 another 6 hours, so I was maneuvered up river and anchored out of the main channel to sit it out. A lovely wooden ship came in next to me so I passed the time trying to talk to him.
At around 2310, my crew stirred and the anchor was raised and I was once more under engine making my way under the cover of darkness to the lock area. My skipper oozed with confidence in the dark and I was soon milling around with a few other boats waiting to get in. Once we had three green lights up, so we all lurched forward to get in and tied up against the wall. Except the French didn't throw my crew any lines at all and skip had to play my throttle and rudder to hold me against the wall whilst we were raised 8m. Not sure if the French boat next to me got the hump, but on leaving he powered up my inside as though I had pushed in and in tandem we swung to port on exit, with the my shrouds passing close by the bows of a linear waiting to depart from within the basin. St Malo is a beautiful place and if you never intend on sailing there, then get a ferry, train or whatever, but spend at least a week there.
I stayed rafted out for a couple of days like this as I could reach shore power and fresh water too. Although on arrival of a large motor catamaran the power went off sounding the alarm on board a French patrol vessel to the stern of me. Still my crew wanted to catch the early tide out the following day so all the leads came back in and were stored below ready for the next time.
At the 0700 lock opening I was the only boat to go through, this time the French took my lines so I could maintain position against the wall. In the main channel, the sea was lumpy and it looked like it was going to be a long hard slug back to Jersey. Once clear of the last marker buoy, my crew turned my nose to wind and raised a reefed main and full jib and bore away. I gathered speed and was soon pushing the waves away and cutting a much smoother path for my crew, this was the real first chance I had to stretch my legs under cloth. We sailed back past the Minkies and even the wind helped by altering a few degrees so was able to maintain a close reach right into the bay next to St Helier. My skipper phoned in and the Harbour Master confirmed that we would be locked out till 1530, but had room for me to stay.
So I was taken to the anchorage we had stayed at previously, before moving straight onto my berth in the marina. The finger I came along side was very narrow and when my skipper jumped off onto it, it took him several seconds to stop the thing from swaying and settle before he could tie me on.
I stayed here for two nights and was soon at the re-fuelling berth early the following morning. A trick not to be mist apparently, with diesel at 88p and no tax added my crew not only filled my tank full but filled the three 10ltr cans too. We shall be returning here again !
With the wind gone again we set off to return to Alderney, trying to get some lift from the main in the fickle breeze, still the tide was good and that moves mountains in these parts. A couple of porpoises were spotted playing at the surface, just as Sark was diminishing and Alderney was appearing. My skipper had opted to anchor in Longey Bay a place he'd never seen before, but had picked up the back eddy as the tide had started to turn against me. On arrival at the bay a French yacht had just taken up what little space there was in there, next to another. In hindsight, it would've been better to drop the hook, in the knowledge that you had to move on once the tide had changed back again, as continuing made for interesting times !
My crew have been through many races including many with me; Portland race a fine example last year, a washing machine type cycle that shook my rigging. The Needles always a fun place to be except when conditions are against you. Those were nothing in comparison to the speed at which millions upon millions of tonnes of water pass between Cap De La Haurg and Alderney. The back edd saw me cross into the oncoming force of the water, this is what it must be like at the top of Niagara Falls, just before the water disappears over the edge. My speed dropped alarmingly, although nearly at 3,000 rpm I could make as little as 0.1 knots SOG (speed over the ground), my skipper held firm and inched me slowly between swirling pools of disturbed water to find the best boat speed he could. Land features were disappointingly not changing, or at least not to us. Inch by inch ground was still being won and my speed increased to nearly 1.0 knots, more snaking and eventually I reached a staggering 2.0 knots. Subtle changes to my bow position and the keel was caught my the rushing tide and sent me off in one direction or other, so firm hands held me in place. After an long hour and a half, the worst was over and speed recovered to 3.0 - 4.0 and so on, till the revs could be lowered back to 2,200rpm and the harbour wall of Braye came into view once more. I had earned this rest as had my skipper. Once more under anchor, this time with plenty of chain out.
A reasonable 0830 start saw me weigh anchor and motor out passed the sunken wall, before heading due north. With 15-20 knots of westerly wind, the full main was raised and I was soon picking up my heels and making 9.0 knots +, tide assisted for a while before that too would revert east west. The wind continued without change in pace or direction and I was still averaging 8.0 knots. A tanker that appear on a collision course opted not to confirm contact on the VHF but must have slowed up to let me pass in front. Soon land was once more in sight and lunch had only just passed. By 1700 hours I was all tied up against the harbour wall in Weymouth.
taken from inside the saloon
Another couple of days were spent in here and my skipper took the opportunity to clean at least one side of the top deck and polish it. Only to discover that the crews of the boats rafted against me had left there foot prints on it in the morning, still it soon wiped off. Re-provisioned and full of water once more I set off with a potential overnight stopover in Lulworth Cove, Warbarrow Bay or Chapmans Pool.
Well Lulworth being a beautiful spot, is like a 6 bay free car park in Knightbridge, there was no chance of me getting in there. Although we didn't rush, just jib and tide, I made a steady 5.5 knots in the sun. So by the time we arrived of course, the motor cruisers had blasted their way in and even the yacht rafted next to me the previous night, whom my skipper had told them where he had intended on stopping, had sneakily taken the central spot ! So on we went.
WarbarrowBay looked ok, but the photo of Chapman's Pool sold it them so on we went, only to find out that less of a pool more a heel print. Not particularly well protected from the SW swell. Although the wind had had north in it for some time but the east west tide is always prevalent, so the swell was minimal. However, it wasn't as well protected as my skipper had hoped, so a known anchorage of Swanage Bay around St Albans Head was the destination. By now the tide had turned and so the races at the headland were beginning to build. Also the wind had filled in and so the main was raised with one reef in it and I set off out to sea to give me enough room to go round the confused seas. Others had tried to get across in time and one obviously knew of an inshore route, may be less keel than me though.
Once round the headland and over the small patch of races over the ledge, I was taken to the northern side of the bay this time, where weed had less coverage and more sand was available. I was on the north side as the wind was expected to back to north easterly and the same chalk cliffs that provide Old Harry and Studland Bay on the other side, would offer me more protection. Anchoring in only 2.2m range seemed positively simple, when compared to what we had been doing, so I sat there all night close to the swimming area.
The following day the chalk cliffs Freshwater Bay on the island couldn't be seen, just replaced with ominous black clouds and rain showers. In fact it was muted that another day could be spent here or in Studland, although the later was likely to be busy as it was a bank holiday. With the wind still a steady 20 knots, I set off for Christchurch Bay to gain access to the Solent through the northern channel and had a cracking sail, even cutting over some of the Bramble Bank to get to Hurst Castle.
Once in though it was so crowded when compared to the previous weeks. Some of the other skippers really ought to brush up on their knowledge of the COLREGS as a windward yacht goose winging forced me to take evasive action as clearly they weren't ! My skipper had intentions of taking me up the river towards Beaulieu, however by the time we reached it, coincidentally at the time when there was enough water over the bar for me to get in, the weather had dramatically improved and there appeared hundred of masts moving about the river. Not quite the quiet spot my skipper was looking for. Being so close to home, we headed for the Medina and back to my berth.
