The Run Home

From Fowey and with time starting to slip before the need to head home, one last trip west saw me heading for Mevagissey.  However my skipper having spoken to a surprised Harbour Master, already had a plan B up his sleeve.  The tone of the HM having had the prospect of trying to get me a 47 foot yacht inside what is primarily a small fishing port, was given a life line, when my skipper suggested that the alternative was to head slightly further south and anchor in a small bay called Portmellon.

With relief in the HM voice, I was hardened up against the wind and my bows pushing hard through the sea, bore away from the fast approaching harbour wall a few degrees to bear down on the cove.  With tidal heights already scanned over, I was brought in to wind and sails dropped before finding a spot to set the anchor.  Once settled another yacht joined me and my crew left to visit the only pub in the village.

On there return, a seal swam round the cove surprising a number of swimmers, who had come out to see me & my neighbour.  As the evening drew in the water around me started to hiss.  It wasn't the sound of the tide pushing pebbles up and down the beach, but a huge shoal of Mackerel had swam in looking to eat whatever they had disturbed.  Batches of fish, 3 at a time we're being hauled in to my cockpit, flapping about like rain hammering down.  Bucket after bucket were soon over crowded with fish unable swim in water, but like Sardines, vertically stacked to suit the packing arrangements.

With sharp knife and skill learnt from his Saturday job, my skipper took twelve of the largest fish and filleted them.

                                                  Me in Portmellon


Having worked out the current, it was a fairly early start to catch the first tide west of the new day.

As always my skipper is wary of the actual strength of the wind, but with full sail I headed east or east by south east to be exact.  And as the coast disappeared in the gloom of the day the wind steadily built, as did the sea state.  This is never an easy thing to appreciate when sailing down wind, as the speed over the ground hides the force of the wind,  Soon I was reaching 10 - 11 knots and starting to surf.  My skipper realising what was happening put a reef in the main and brought things back under control.  For a while at least.  A couple of miles south of Eddystone Rocks and it became apparent that the forecast was, as usual, incorrect.  The sea built further with the wind increasing, by now Salcombe was due north and I was either going to be gybed to head in or continue for a night passage across Lyme Bay.

                     Eddystone Lighthouse with Plymouth in the merck behind


With both sea and wind building yet further, the usual drill of heading in to wind to put in the second reef became an issue.  The timing of turning head on to the waves and wind without getting smacked broadside and then being overpowered came to the fore.  My skipper worked tirelessly lowering the main halyard and grinding in the second reef, with the topping lift hard on and vang off.  When ready the gybe was entertained.  However, despite trying to control the situation, the rolling sea and strength of wind won over and my boom was thrown across.  Fortunately the only damage was a plastic ring holding the lazy jack lines in place.  This snapped, spilling the already reefed sail over the deck.  As I sailed north running for cover of the coast line, the wind and sea eased, my skipper tidied my deck of sail and eventually we motored in to find a buoy.

Having restocked and discussed the merits of down wind sails following the recent episode, I headed to Torquay once more, for an overnighter before crossing of Lyme Bay.  Again the wind just disappeared and so the engine was back on.  At least this gave my crew time to chill in their own way.  My skipper, cleaned and polished half of my cockpit whilst the crew read.

Portland Bill, was crossed once more but via the inner passage this time and with the Red Arrows carrying out their display over Falmouth, I swung in to Portland Marina.

Red Arrow Fly Past

This is the first time I'd stopped at Portland and the new marina was impressive and full of space, for now ?

                                      Portland Marina at Sunset


At Portland my crew spent a few days walking the dis-used railway line and stretching their legs. With time moving on, it soon became time for me to move too and so we left the protection of the walls that surround this Olympic sailing venue and headed out to explore the coast line with a view to look at Lulworth but with a plan B to stop in Warbarrow Bay, or more accurately the west side Mupe Bay.

With a dark band of clouds forming, I was taken close to the shore line, looking for possible stop overs.  However a squall hit and 5 knots of wind became 25 knots, my skipper was handed his coat and then bore away to spill as much wind out of the sails as he could.  Within minutes, the sun returned and the wind dropped.  Lulworth Cove as always was packed, so Mupe Bay it was and I moved in between a few other motor cruisers as well as yachts.  The high chalk cliffs showed signs of failure as a huge chalk slip had filled part of the bay.  At least I had some protection from the building wind for the night as my occupants ate more Mackeral.

In the morning we set off and it was a choice of Swanage or Studland Bay as the wind was still making up its mind as to which way it as going to most constant.  Studland it was and this time my crew were determined to push me in and find a space.  Whilst aledged a beauty spot it was a dissappointing experience, hoards of PWC (jet ski's) and sped boats with the inflatable goods towed behind ruined what ambience there once was in the days of only gaff rigged boats.  Once the myhem settled down and day trippers moved back to the proection of their marine's, I was moved closer to the cliffs.  Just as well as again the aftermath of Hurricane Bertha was still around and the wind strengthened over night.  Bank holiday Monday and it didn'tstop raining, which on the one hand kept the 'others' away, but little else could be done.  Early the next moring I caught the tide round the north passage by Hurst Castle and stopped outside of Yarmouth whilst waiting for my berth to become available.  Dissapointingly Salties bar was not open on Tuesdays and everywhere else was either full or appeared not interested in serving food.  My crew found one of the best curry houses next to the ferry terminal.

Picking up the tide once more and with little wind I was drifted as close to the shore as dared enabling my skipper to clock a visual on how close we could get but keeping an eye on the chart for ledges.  Eventually the weather broke once more and the last run from Egypt Point wasn't that pleasant.  Once inside the Medina things quietened down and I was taken back to my pontoon.