So I spent several weeks in Shepard's marina hooked up to shore power. The heaters and dehumidifier trying to combat the inevitable damp that is inherent within us yachts.
The intensity of my skippers visits increased aver the preceding weeks before Easter, with all the little jobs being completed, or not in the want to get me back out on the water. The repair works to my port rear quarter is almost complete, all the metal work including the wire stays back in place, with a view to looking at re-fitting the windex generator, although missing parts put a hold on that.
My main, that was sent off to be serviced, cleaned and have my world wide individual sail number applied, has still not been returned. But I'm sure my skipper is well aware of my limitations without it.
Previsions loaded and even some of the bed linen removed to be tumbled dry before fitting, meant that I was expected to head somewhere for my first real trip of the season. The plan to head across the channel to Cherbourg amongst the Junior Offshore Group (JOG) on Good Friday followed by a short trip to Alderney, before returning to Weymouth and home, was a wish too far as the sail loft still failed to understand that for the first major holiday since Christmas, it may be the wishes of others to have their sails back.
However with guests arriving and more food being delivered, an alternative plan was hatched.
So a mid morning arrival, on Friday, my lines were eventually slipped and I headed back up the Medina to the Solent once more. This wasn't quite as straight forward as my skipper, clearly rusty after the winter break took two attempts to get me out of my berth, his plan was sound but his execution didn't follow the plan until he realised and put his actions in sync with his brain.
As expected my skipper had the tides down to a tea and I motored with the tide until we reached a favourite spot at Totland Bay, where my anchor complete with brand new swivel was deployed. Around lunchtime the following day in glorious sunshine, I again was pushed in to the tide and headed east to Swanage. Due to the underlying north easterly wind I was placed near the cliffs on the north side of the bay, away from the town, but a constant swell made living on board uncomfortable and so I was moved to pick up a buoy nearer town.
It became apparent after several aborted runs, that visitors buoys had yet to be deployed and with two hours of daylight left, my skipper made the decision to run to the shelter that is Poole harbour. The ebbing tide created overfalls by Old Harry, which I've not been taken through before and Studland Bay the other side looked idyllic, but having , for the first time put my nose around, my skipper decided that with winds still expected from the north east, it wasn't the place to be. By now though the ebbing tide out of Poole meant a slow passage in.
Sunday and the weather came in making for a miserable day, their guest was picked up and taken home, a second night at a different berth ensued. Early doors Monday, saw me out of Town Quay to pick up the ebbing tide, which made a huge difference in time in getting out. My skipper happy that enough water existed over the bank took me across and we headed back to the Needles again timed such that the tide was soon at my stern and pushed me. The north channel at Hurst Castle is somewhere my skipper has only been through in the dark, so the opportunity was taken to visually see how close to the shingle bank the channel was.
I achieved a staggering 9.2 knots, without sail, in little wind such was the timing my skipper had put me here. It was just a few hours that I was swung round and taken back to my berth between the oversized catamaran and the gaff rigged Poly Agatha. This time the actions were in sync with the skippers brain and we came in nice and gently.
I understand that I have been entered in to this years Round The Island Race, but am sure my skipper has other trips up his sleeve before then.
