Three days early, but I understand that my crew had to ensure that the works ongoing at their house had reached a stage that could be left. And so my skipper arrived with bags of provisions and bags of clothes and on the Wednesday my lines were cast and I slipped in to the Medina and headed out. At last I was out and it was of no great surprise when my bow was pointed in to Totland Bay, where I anchored for the night. Not having been out on many occasions this year meant that the majority of my pulley's needed attention and to remind my skipper of this fact I kept him awake most of the night with creaks and groans.
And so it was that on the second night we stopped off at Studland Bay, at least this time it wasn't full of oiks and the skipper had heeded my advice on the pulley's and applied plenty of lubricant. So he was rewarded with a quieter night although I know the fact that his lack of sea time over the summer would still play on his mind keeping him awake. A state he would remain in until he'd got back in to the rhythm of the sea.
From Studland we were well received in Portland marina, where the staff remember my name and still think my lines strikes the best look in the marina. With the tidal information assessed we left the following day and just caught the start of the races East of Portland Bill but soon were heading West and the promised wind never came. It wasn't till a few miles out of Babacombe Bay that the wind filled in and my crew had me unravelled and sailed me in. Picking a buoy closer in supplied by The Carey Arms. A lunch within with just one half of their friends paid for the mooring and the owner said that she'd watched my come serenely in under sail and also loved my lines.
Me in Babacombe Bay
A quiet night on the buoy and we rounded the point and headed to Salcombe. My skipper had a 'post it' note stuck on my Nav table with dates of all the regatta's so as to miss them ! The wind picked up and I was slamming on a buoy in the river, my crew not having the most comfortable of nights. Once the wind had abated, we headed to Sutton Harbour within the heart of Plymouth. This enabled my crew to meet up with her friend as they tend to do each year when possible and so this year a meal was had on board, they then disappeared for a night cap on shore. My skipper wandered off to the Marine Bizzare to buy a few bits and eventually the whole crew went walkies in search of a Gaz bottle as one of mine was empty, but more importantly the suppliers had been having issues and so the UK was suffering with depleted stocks. Whilst I carry two and one usually lasts me for their summer break, they have fitted a new oven in my galley with a grill and meals were being prepared most evenings on board.
The Helford River was my next stop and I was taken to my usual spot to anchor, beautiful as it is, it's becoming busy, although the photo below doesn't show all the moorings & anchorages. As is always the steady wind that had taken me there became awkward as my attitude changed and the crew had to fight to get my sails down, from what had been a fairly innocuous day.
Pretty Helford River
From my anchorage we headed around the Lizard to Newlyn. The wind was such that we went quite south of the Lizard and eventually the wind died, the skipper spent at least a good 30 mins trying to fill my sails and get me moving in the direction we wanted to go. Alas in the end the engine had to go back on.
Newlyn is a special place for my crew. Not for any emotional reason, just that this is a real working port. Doesn't matter what the clock says, if fishing crew come in then the harbour awakens. Oddly despite the noises my crew sleep soundly in between. It is here that my skipper is studying the weather forecasts and evaluating whether or not this is the end of their cruise or whether the Atlantic and Azores High is going to give them enough window to head further West and make the Scilly Isles. Again this year there was a break and so the 6 degrees 50 minutes West longitude was made and I was once again anchored close to Hangman's Island. Not that this was straight forward, it took three attempts within New Grimsby Sound to anchor away from others in a busy place. The wind around F6 keeping me pinned against the rock.
The gruel some Hangman's Island
With crew keeping any eye on the weather as you have to in this place, they went off and toured the Abbey Gardens on Tresco, a place that last time they didn't appreciate existed. Set in 17 acres of land the former owner had the gardens laid out to support and reflect the areas that the plants came from. A well worth visit including the Red Squirrel's that adorn my crew's homeland.
With the skipper noting that an Atlantic low was coming in and the fact that the strong winds had abated. Causing an 0600 meeting with the French mid stream, it was decided that a move back to the mainland sooner rather than later was on the cards. The wind however was not playing ball and despite trying to sail twice the swell knocked off any speed the sails could muster. Fog or mist was never very far away and with my engine running skipper decided to take the opportunity to have radar practise. Rounding Lands Ends 3nm off no shore line could be seen, even my close proximity alarm went off (0.5nm) but yet my crew couldn't see any vessel and so they creeped back in to Newlyn.
Sure enough the weather changed and the winds increased. This gave my skipper time to replace the stereo radio he managed to blow up in Plymouth, when washing down my decks and a bucket of water entered an open hatch to soak the system, plus source a new aluminium step ladder having lost the original off Gorran Haven with a gust.
Once the weather had abated the journey East commenced. Five days in Newlyn was not an issue but meant that to make ground East longer passages would need to be made. So we set off for Falmouth or rather Pendennis marina next to the British Maritime museum, wind was south westerly and we were making good progress with the tide too, but then came the Lizard as serene as anything on the way but this was something else. I'd say worse than the Portland Bill we faced a couple of years ago, short steep waves built and whilst I had 6 knots of boat speed I only had 1.5 knots SOG (speed over the ground) and so I became held up. The waves crashed occasionally on my stern and tried to turn me, all my skippers senses where put to use including his ears which listened out to the oncoming beasts from behind. We seemed to clear one area when a steeper section took hold, other, mainly motor boats where like trawlers, bows out of the wave and crashing down in to the trough behind. Eventually the waves eased and my skipper was able to hand over the helm to his crew, after a long two & a half hour session.
The following day, day 28 we left a quiet Falmouth and headed for Fowey, the wind had also left and at under 10 knots my engine was back on once more. It took 3 attempts to connect with mooring buoy S7, due to a malfunctioning mooring mate. My skipper almost went over board trying to loop the ring leaning over my port side. Never a good idea, so high is my free board.
The following day was again a mixture of wind conditions and as such my crew had me catching and passing others. Thor the 170msq G2 Gennekar was out for a while, We were naking such good progress that a change of course was made, but yet again the iron sail, the engine came on, to make our final destination. Skipper, in front of the harbour master had me serenely reverse in to my allocated spot with ease. Dartmouth had its regatta but we had a place for the night.
Lyme Bay was in the Doldrums on the way west, would it be the same going home ? The simple answer was yes, with the added condition of fog. Skipper played with my radar system again and responded to a Naval warship Southerland that was about to fire a few live rounds, fortunately it was confirmed that I was to continue my passage on the chosen course, to my allotted conclusion Portland. The question was inner or outer route, this depended on what time we arrived. As it was the sea was calm but soon evident that the boiling waters wasn't far away. The surface of the otherwise benign sea soon had ripples and the swirls of the current deep beneath appeared on the surface. By 1800 my skipper had approval to enter the East ship channel, twenty minutes later I was secured on Tango pontoon.
Here I took on 170 lts of diesel with a touch of diesel bug inhibitor as always during a major refuel, prior to setting of once more. The East channel was approved proving I had cleared the entrance as traffic was expected. This came in the form of a cruise liner, wind under 10 knots and from the south west, Thor once more was hoisted this time without the main being up, instantly I picked up speed and headed for Anvil point and the overfalls that we've encountered many times before. A gust of wind had me headed and my crew worked quickly to drop the sail and hoist the whites. This may have been a tad over reacting but the exercise was completed quickly and I was back under sail quickly. Again the overfalls weren't of significance and progress was very good, another race ensued. However Studland was full of, well others that spoiled a place of natural beauty, ski boats, jet ski's, speed boats, all making life unpleasant. with a quick check on the tidal calculations the Skipper suggested that there was two hours maximum to get through the Needles and anchor in Totland Bay. With some wind, I was motor sailed at around 7.0 knots, we approached the Shingles Bank buoy just as the tide turned, keeping to the island side picking up a slight eddy, anchoring further in Totland Bay than I've been before. Once settled diner was on the go and a fleet of racing yachts took advantage of the ebbing tide to sail to St Peter's Port for their weekend race. Their tricolours gently waving at the end of their masts as they silently past me.
Day 32 was not a very nice day, overcast with the threatening rain. My crew motored me back to my home pontoon another summer cruise complete and I returned to Cowes in a better condition than when I left. Lets hope that I don't have to wait to long before my next outing.
