I am back from the Sydney Hobart –race report below and busy organising our 2012 events. At least 5 places have gone in the race team, all to previous Wild Spirits and I am waiting to hear from a couple more but we will have one or 2 places on all races.

The new racing genoa is ready and we have ordered an expensive new code Zero as well.

The dates for the first half of 2012 are now available. Our big race is Round Ireland starting 24th June. We will do Cork week as well keep Wild Spirit over there for about 7 weeks to allow for an extended RYA course followed by 3 legs round Ireland which can also include RYA qualifications. We already have 2 bookings for the third leg and several other enquiries. This formula will allow RYA students to have a really good holiday and experience some of the best cruising grounds in the world.
Putting the programme together has been really difficult due to date changes for races due to the Olympics. We already have 4 signed up for the race team and have held the cost at £2500 for as much racing/sailing as you can have in a season and still remain with your current partner!

Phil will skipper for Cork week as my youngest daughter is getting married. We have enquiries from Australia–for Cork week– and this is seperate from the rest of the race programme but can be combined with Irish cruising etc.

RYA courses which Phil and I run in conjunction with Hayling Sea School mainly filled up but for 2011 but it is a very difficult market as the majority of other companies have hidden extras which make there prices seem lower. This doesn’t matter for our regulars as they know what we do but for potential new customers it is confusing and the temptation to go for the lowest ‘up front’ price is quite strong. We shall continue to operate on a no hidden extras basis and keep up the quality and quantity of our food. A tip for anyone thinking of booking a practical RYA course—ask to speak to the instructor who will run the course and ask him or her what’s included and what’s extra

Sydney to Hobart and back 2011/2
Already the events of the last 3 weeks are coalescing into a warm but fuzzy memory and I have only been off the Yacht for 3 hours. Actually it was a yacht I had never heard of until 2 weeks ago and one which I was not meant to be on. Perhaps a brief explanation will help. I run a sailing company and race yachts, last year I put several crew members on Helsal 3 a 66’ yacht for the Sydney Hobart and this year was meant to be skippering her. A series of events culminating with the withdrawal of the sponsors put paid to our plans and having already completed the other big Australian race to Lord Howe Island (coming first) I resigned myself to missing the 2011 Sydney to Hobart race. Then came a phone call at 0545 in early December which my wife, Judith, answered; having elderly relatives, phone calls in the night cause some anxiety and this was no exception. A voice from the other end asked for Paul and explained he was calling from Australia. Judith passed me the phone and, as I was still waking, I was asked to be No 2 on Kioni, a 47 foot yacht, for the Sydney to Hobart race. At this stage I made a mistake by instantly agreeing prior to obtaining marital consent, but this was not referred to by the aggrieved party on more than 50 occasions.
An uneventful trip out saw me on board for the start of a weeks training although it was obvious that delays in putting Kioni back in the water meant some preparatory works still needed doing.
A few last minute team changes and an unexpected requirement to do a 24hr qualifying passage meant we were not as well prepared as we would have liked, but on Boxing Day morning we joined the fleet of almost 100 and in front of a crowd of over 200,000 plus numerous TV stations we set off.
One of the high profile teams was skippered by Jessica Watson, the youngest person to sail solo round the world, and their yacht had similar performance to ours. We soon experienced problems with the navigation computer but solved this by simply following young Jess with her fully sponsored top of the range kit. Things looked good, the conditions suited us and we slowly overhauled her, then quite a few others, as we ran parallel with the coast down towards Tassie.
A couple of problems now beset us; firstly the engine wouldn’t start which meant we couldn’t charge the batteries needed for the navigation, pumps, lights, radio etc; also as the swell increased several team members were sea sick. But we were easily in the top half of the fleet and looking good.
The wind continued to increase and this was to our advantage but it was clear we were now taking on water and as a lot was coming over the top this seemed the obvious source. We continued on, beating into strong winds, nothing like the 50+ kts of 2010 but still uncomfortable for us, but even more so for the lighter yachts, some of which were now starting to retire with damage.
Skippering a yacht in the Sydney Hobart had been an ambition of mine for several years but I had rather have not ended up in charge due to the skipper being incapacitated and I was relieved that Andrey was a final year medic was part of the team. The problem was not life threatening but knocked Rowan out for about 15 hours.
The wind continued just below gale force and we struggled on after changing to a smaller headsail, the previous one was secured to the rail but started to work lose as the water swept over it. With half of the sail now trailing in the sea Max and Ashley went forward to manhandle it back on board. As they did so a larger than average wave came over the top, picked Max up then deposited him, still with his lifeline clipped on, but now standing on top of the sail but in the water, up to his waist and doing 8 knots. I put the helm hard over to stop Kioni and as she hove to the down side of the yacht rose rapidly complete with the attached sail. Max went up in the air, Ashley fielded him and he landed back on board with only minimal dampness. Whilst he was safely recovered it drove home the point that a working engine could be very useful when recovering a man over board and we did not have one. There are only a few possible ports to put into on the east coast of New South Wales and faced with a yacht that appeared to be slowly sinking, a poorly skipper, several sea sick crew and no engine I picked Eden, then 80 miles away, as a port of refuge and went for it.
Eden is a large well sheltered bay which, had the railways of Australia developed differently, might have become more important than Sydney. As we entered its sheltered waters things improved, Rowan recovered, we bailed out over a ton of water by hand and found the leaking broken impeller housing. We mange to by-pass the engine solenoid that had jammed closing the fuel line and in the calmer waters most of the sea sick members rallied. All was well, so whilst we had lost at least 6 hours we set off back into the race.
We beat our way ever south across the notorious Bass Strait and down the east coast of Tasmania towards Tasman Island to see its spectacular hexagonal basalt organ pipes at sunset. Then it was on into the night and along the south of Tasmania into Storm Bay, where we were becalmed for a couple of hours before the wind gently returned and we sailed up the river Derwent to cross the line 68th overall.
Hobart is rather busy at New Year’s Eve and there are lots of yachties about but I was still surprised by how many people I knew and we settled down for a serious New Year’s Eve party with the spectacular fireworks for which the city is known. Then it was back to work as I had agreed to skipper a friend’s yacht back up to Sydney.
Assembling a crew proved easier than expected and my best find was Roy an Israeli Yacht Master who was out on a back packing holiday. Cindy a Dutch sailing Instructor had been part of the Kioni team and she also joined together with 3 less experienced sailors as we readied ‘Dodo’ a Sydney 38 for her return.
Sydney 38s are an all out racing boat and not at all comfortable in a gale so we watched the unfolding weather patterns and the predicted gales with some concern. We were due for 2 sets of gales with a window of less than 24 hrs between them in which to cross the Bass Strait.
The run back along the south of Tasmania across Storm Bay was simple but shortly after we rounded Tasman Island the wind increased and came from just where we wanted to go. We slogged on against 30 kts through the night and finally made the beautiful Wineglass Bay in early afternoon where we met up with Merit a Volvo 60. Claiming to be one of the 10 most beautiful beaches in the world, Wineglass Bay was indeed an idyllic spot, but with a large swell running in, it was not somewhere we could anchor. Many of the features of Tasmania were named by Captain Cook and a few miles north lay Sleepy Bay so in the absence of any local knowledge we set of for it followed by Merit who was passing us updated weather information. Good old Captain Cook we spent a quiet night tucked under cliffs in the corner of the aptly named bay.
The timing of the gales had changed and we needed to run up the east coast with one behind us but first we had to get into the tiny fisherman’s wharf at Bichenou and get fuel and water. With no detailed chart and in an area where positions cannot be plotted accurately on a chart by GPS this was going to be fun. Fortunately Roy on the bow was superb at spotting rocks and we crept in over a rocky bar and tied up with about half a metre spare under the keel.
The fuel station (Servo in Aussie) was about half a kilometre away but a couple of generous tourists saw our predicament and kindly drove us to and from the Servo whist others filled with water ready for the crossing.
We had only just left the tiny port when the gale started and soon we were hitting over 13 kts with tiny sails up and over 40 kts of breeze. By keeping close to the shore we were in fairly small waves and making good progress, but at some stage we would have to head about 20 miles out into deeper water to avoid the notoriously rough water where the strait was narrower, shallower plus the current coming south down the east coast meets the one coming east across the south coast of Australia.
The forecast was accurate and just as we started to sail away from the shore the wind dropped back to a modest 25 kts and then slowly decreased for the next 12 hours. With 100 miles to go to round Gabo Island and reach the comparative shelter of the mainland coast things looked good. As we rounded the island the wind started to build and soon we were surfing along at up to 15 kts with a gale behind us and a 3 metre swell. The weather forecast had changed though and a new gale from the North east was forecast for about 36 hrs time. After a quick check on water levels we pressed on past Eden instead of stopping and went all out for Sydney some 240 miles north reaching its shelter about 8 hours before the promised gale occurred and delivering Dodo back safely a day earlier than anticipated.

updated 14/1/12

Lord Howe Island Blog

First Yacht in–line honours–3rd overall on handicap–full report in a few days.

It’s the Tuesday before the race which starts on Saturday and it is raining which makes a pleasant change from yesterday’s 35C. Andy and I are sat on board ‘The Stick’ a 22m racing machine in Rushcutters Bay, Sydney. How we came to be here is a story in itself, but here we are and getting ready for the annual race to Lord Howe Island some 400 miles out into the Pacific from Australia’s east coast. The skippers name is Rick Christian and he is a descendant of Mr Christian from Mutiny on the Bounty so at least there is some sailing pedigree in the blood.
Until a few months ago I had only vaguely heard of Lord Howe Island but now I know it is a beautiful, world heritage site and rather exclusive holiday destination with the flight from Sydney costing visitors over £1000 return.
We are not flying, though ‘The Stick’ has recorded over 30 kts of boat speed several times and we are hoping to cover the 420 Nm in less than 48 hrs. We arrived on Friday and, despite jet lag, had 2 reasonable days practice over the weekend. We also saw our first whale, about 100m off it was big but surfaced so briefly that could not identify the species.
Sunday night and Cliff our navigator has taken us to a Pub in Bondi to watch the World Cup, it was a Kiwi Pub and there was little doubt which side to support.
Yesterday, Monday, we were helping get the boat ready doing safety inspections etc and we should finish this today which leaves only the re-installation of the pump for the water ballast to be done. I have never used water ballast before and am very interested in seeing the effects of being able to move 2 tons of water between 6 tanks to improve stability.
Last year Andy, my Fastnet No. 2 and I were on Helsal 3 for the Sydney Hobart and we quickly learnt that Tasmanian for Project Management was ‘She’ll be right mate’, the approach on the Stick is rather different and, with some stress, things are clearly coming together within the required timescale.
Tuesday and nothing is due to happen until noon so off to central Sydney which is about 15 minutes walk. As Cities go Sydney, with the bridge and opera house, must be near the top of the list but I am not a City person so was happy to be back on board and working again. The pump had arrived, it has to move 2 tons of water through 4 inch pipes and I guess it weighs about 200kg so getting it in position down below involved winching it up on a halyard easing it on board and then easing it down below. I volunteer for the winch and let Rick assume responsibility for what happens if it goes wrong and we end up playing conkers with 200kg on a 25m string—after all it’s his boat!
Several hours later plus considerable use of a common language and we finally have the beast in its lair, which is a very confined space next to the engine with only one metre headroom. The acid test and I have the dubious honour off throwing the switch; the pump runs and moves the water but not as fast as we need. It is now getting dark so with some scratching of heads and a couple of beers we decide to leave it till tomorrow afternoon. Kings Cross used to be the rougher/ red light district of Sydney and it is still not that smooth, but it is only 5 minutes walk and we have found a lovely little Thai restaurant that is more affordable than many, so it has become our regular.
Wednesday and after receiving several new ropes for the race we are off walking to Bondi. The new sheets (ropes or in racing terms string) for the Genoas are 14 mm Dyneema which has a breaking strain of over 10 tons which gives an idea of how much power the sails can generate. Andy and Cliff, Ricks’ No 2 have been working away in the Nav station at the stern installing the new navigation system. The station has 4 foot headroom so I am glad I am not the navigator.
The afternoon passed in a flurry of odd jobs with me concentrating on sail repairs and Andy on electronics, then at 1800 we were out on the race circuit in Sydney Harbour to see if everything worked. They didn’t, we have an issue with the gate valves on the water ballast and it may not be simple.
Racing in Sydney Harbour is quite an experience, the Opera House and Bridge provided a marvellous backdrop and the remains of the day’s sea breeze saw us achieving up to 12 kts as we put the Stick through her paces. Several former team members had joined us for the race and the bar of the Cruising Yacht Club of Australia (CYCA) had a very lucrative night.
Thursday morning seemed to arrive too early but, as weren’t working on board until noon a walk into central Sydney helped wear off our excesses. One thing we really have noticed is how considerate motorists are, you only have to be close to a Zebra crossing for cars to stop—Australian tourists must seem a very easy target to French drivers. Also a couple of times we have stopped to consult the map and people have asked us where we were trying to go.
On the Thursday evening we went up to Gosford sailing club for the race briefing which was attended by the Aus Met Office, Coastguard, Police etc. Actually there were almost as many officials as competitors—perhaps because it is the only annual Ocean race in Australia (the Sydney Hobart is only classified as Offshore). A good look at the opposition convinces us we can win.
The weather forecast which had looked good now looks rather worse but nothing too serious. The final preparations have been made and Andy even had time to compete in a local bi-athlon the evening before the race. Then it is back to the CYCA where we meet Jerry another crew member and have an accident with 2 bottles of red wine and miss out on free oysters and champagne on another yacht—probably as well.
Saturday morning at 0800 and we are off up to broken Bay, unlike last year we are quite well prepared and we even have a proper safety brief. Normally the most stressful period of a race is the few minutes before the start but everything is going well and the Police have their little gunboat ready for a Shot gun start. I have never experienced a shotgun start before and it seems neither had the starter who did not understand the significance of firing off the second shot just after the first and was probably confused when the entire fleet turned back to the start. After some further confusion, and probably some embarrassment as the Commissioner of Police was on board we eventually stared about 15 minutes late.
We were first across the line and set off well raising a spinnaker after a few minutes; escorted by spectator boats we sped up the coast leaving most of the fleet behind until we rounded the first mark and then completely ran out of wind. The rest of the fleet closed on us and then we all ended up without wind for half an hour before the effectively restarted the race.
The navigation for the race is more complex than some as you have to contend with the East Australian Current and the huge eddies it develops around two sea mounts that come from 4000m deep to 70m below surface. On board we had a computerised navigation system which overlaid the wind forecast onto the currents to give an optimal route; this had superb screens and , if the forecast had been right, would have produced a result. We sailed on with a rising wind throughout the day and it was the strength which had been forecast, it did not change direction as forecast however and we continued to race in 25 kts of wind all night long and most of the next day. As the second night approach the wind was still 25 kts from the North instead of from the SW and rising so we had to reef (reduce the area) of the mainsail, this was not an easy procedure and benefitted from someone fairly tall who could stand on a winch and just reach the boom to tie off the spare sail with a tie to stop it flapping around and destroying itself. When we had reefed before this had been one of my tasks but we had 2 watches and mine was down below sleeping so Rick the Skipper went out along the boom on a double length safety line to sort the sail ties. With the wind gusting to over 30 kts the Stick was sailing easily under water ballast but still being knocked by a few larger than average waves which came right over the deck. One of these hit us and Rick bounced on his ribs on the wire rail 6 foot below the boom before going over the side. We were travelling at over 10 knots and for a few seconds he surfed backwards on the end of the safety lines before he could grab the rail and haul himself back in.
Attempts to change the head sail at change of watch were frustrated by a combination of a jammed luff rope in the forestay at the front of the yacht and a sudden worsening of sea state near one of the seam mounts. The Stick is 22m long and has a low freeboard so life at the pointy end was quite difficult and the youngsters were struggling. This meant that Jerry and I, both the top end of 50, had to go and sort the problem, a unique blend of age experience and immaturity, within 15 minutes we sorted it. It was a very wet and battering 15 minutes which Andy a fit young tri-athlon competitor kindly videoed from the comparative comfort of the cockpit. There’s no fool like an old fool.
At 0600 and 1800 each day all competitors had to report their positions so we knew we were leading and our progress was fast, in fact faster as we had now abandoned the fancy navigation software and the inaccurate weather forecast. At dawn on Monday we could see Lord Howe Island’s volcanic cones rising out of the Ocean to over 2000 feet and the volcanic tooth of Balls Pyramid to the south. Around 0730 we called the Island on the radio only to learn there was a problem on one of our closest competitors Frantic plus another yacht. On Frantic the skipper had also fallen but had landed in the cockpit dislocating his shoulder and puncturing the capsule of his knee joint. Despite his crews efforts they could not get his shoulder back in so he had to finish the last 10 hours off race on morphine as there is no helicopter rescue this far off land and no lifeboats. The other casualty was just a simple fracture of an arm.
The finish at LHI is close to a reef and we had difficulty locating the mark and transit lights but eventually we found it (you cannot rely on GPS positions for LHI particularly as the coral reefs keep changing). We crossed the finish line first and before the race organisers were ready so had to sail around for half an hour before being met and piloted through a small gap in the reef. After being moved by the organisers we had just moored for the second time when the forecast South westerly came through 36 hours late. Fortunately we were moored as with over 30 kts of breeze the water churned so much that coral heads capable of ripping the bottom out of the Stick became invisible.
After a wet run ashore and transfer to our accommodation a few beers followed. Several things were now becoming clear about LHI, these included that when it wasn’t raining hard it is one of the most beautiful Islands in the world and that hotel rooms didn’t have keys—they didn’t need them, plus there was no mobile phone coverage at all as the islanders had voted against it. The team re-assembled at Humpty Micks a bar/ restaurant overlooking the lagoon. We had won the race convincingly for line honours but with the wind now coming at 30 kts from the SW the slower yachts must surely catch us on handicap as they came in under spinnakers which doubled their speed.
During the lsat day of the race we had become aware of electrical issues on board and with the assistance of the Islanders we were trying to resolve these. We had identified the Alternator as the problem so this was removed and brought ashore.—no mean effort as our mooring was a mile off the landing point in the deepest part of the lagoon and it was still blowing 30 kts. With only 250 islanders the knowledge base was limited but we eventually located a former British Tank Mechanic digging a ditch who rebuilt it for us in his lunch hour. Had the alternator been the problem this would have been the solution but it was not. A new Alternator was flown out 2 days later from Sydney (everything costs £4 a kilo for freight) but when we fitted this it only confirmed that it wasn’t the Alternator after all.
The help provided by the Islanders was superb, we borrowed a large generator and heaved it on board with their assistance, we were given a spare battery, people took photos of our electrical bits and e-mailed them to the mainland then phoned seeking advice, official bikes were loaned to us and we had numerous lifts with parts and supplies. To Rick a Norfolk Islander this seemed normal but to the rest of us the assistance without expectation of payment was remarkable.
Other yachts also received assistance and 2 had to anchor in the lee of the island as they could not get into the Lagoon at night. One had a snagged anchor and the Royal Australian Navy sent down divers to free it, they also ferried their crews ashore and back. The Navy ship was only there because the Commander had a medical problem and needed a Doctor. The Islanders (and it appeared) most Aussies are fiercely proud of their armed services so the now recovered Commander ended up having to present the prizes. As well as picking up the main trophy for first yacht home, a magnificent solid silver cup we also picked up 2 others trophies and rounded off a very satisfactory day with pies and peas at the bowling club.
After the night at the ‘Bowlo’ there was no moon and it became clear to us that there were no street lights at all. Returning to our accommodation now became an issue; the island is largely still sub tropical jungle and teems with mutton birds that dig burrows for the unwary to fall into. I made it back without problems but Nathan from Melbourne decided on a short cut through the woods. About an hour after he had left Andy was coming back when a figure stumbled out of the woods covered in blood and foliage—Nathan had made about 100yds in an hour and was grateful for the assistance he then received to make it home.
Whilst at the Bowlo we had ben told we must visit Neds beach and feed the fish by hand. The next afternoon, whilst waiting for the Aletrnator from Sydeny, we set off. The beach was stunning and at the little shelter we put our money in the honesty box and picked up the snorkels etc. In we went armed with bread and started feeding fish up to 4 foot long. All went well and they took the bread gently from the fingers. Then one bit me on the leg and whilst not serious it was bleeding. Next came the shark, I know little of sharks so beat a hasty retreat, apparently it was a harmless reef shark but I was bleeding. Andy grabbed a camera and pusued the 4 foot beast but it swam off and didn’t reappear. Later Nathan also got bitten, not all was sweetness in paradise.

A murky Solent beckoned as Graham, Jim Paul and I slipped from Lymington at 0645 on Saturday 31st July. Heads just a touch sore from a good meal and the odd bottle of wine (it’s never the even ones that get you) this was not the weather we had hoped for. We motored out down the Needles passage against a thick mist on the end of the ebb before turning East to run along to St Catts as the tide turned. 2000 miles to go, surely the weather must improve—it did and before long we were running before 15 kts of wind in sunshine. The tide increased as did the wind and we were doing 10 kts over ground as we passed St Catts with only one other yacht for company. With a spinnaker up we continued quickly for another 48 miles before increasing swell and wind of 25+ kts required us to drop it.

Past Beachy head and on towards Dungeness surfing up to 11.6 knots we continued into the night and then the wind dropped so we had to motor for 2 hours before it returned near Dover and with the tide we shot towards the Thames at 9 knots. In the first 24 hrs we logged 145 miles but then the wind dropped and we flew the Pig (asymmetric spinnaker) as we headed towards the east anglian coast.

Still going North

Its Wednesday morning, our 4th sunrise at sea. Today it is with the mountains behind Montrose as a backdrop, yesterday it was sunrise over Whitby Abbey followed by sunset over Holy Island. Mostly the wind has been kind to us with anything from South West to North West but last night we had various directions and with 20 knots we sailed quickly but not always quite where we wanted to go. The navigation off Scotland is also much easier than dealing with the Gas and Oil platforms plus moving sandbanks off Norfolk and Lincolnshire and in the 4 years since I last sailed this way there have been extensive outbreaks of wind farms. Progress has been good so far although as I came on watch it was to the news that the spinnaker halyard was now wrapped round the top of the mast. Young Paul has volunteered but we will wait until watch change before we hoist him.

Our first Whale

541 miles in the 96 hours since we left Lymington and although we are motoring at present due to lack of wind, the vast majority of it under sail. We are heading in to Peterhead mainly to drop Paul off as he is only doing the first part of the trip. A few weeks ago he did his competent crew then he raced to La Trinite with us and cruised back, now he has over 1000 miles in his Log Book. He has just told me the wind is down below 2 knots and as I stuck my head up top some Gannets perform a good impression of a penguin trying to take off. Other than a Seal and the rather large Mackerel, caught whilst sailing slowly, there had been little wild life until the typing of this has just been disturbed by a small passing whale. It wasn’t very big, but was a whale as opposed to a basking shark or Dolphin.

As we progressed under engine towards Peterhead we saw more dolphins and large numbers of small Jelly fish. Reaching Peterhead around 1500 we were welcomed into the small Marina which had good facilities surrounded by the sort of security fence you might expect in a town famous for its prison. The locals were however very friendly and re-provisioning was possible although the choice of restaurants dictated a meal on board.

Kirkwall

The enforced on board dinner was accompanied by unenforced wine which militated against an early departure so we set off North with a favourable tide and Forecast. The promised wind appeared then vanished leaving us with some motoring before it re-appeared about an hour before we entered Kirkwall the main Harbour in the Orkneys. We had however become aware of a slight weep on a joint between the stern gland and its anti vibration seal so were anxious to effect repairs when we arrived. There was no Chandlers but a visit to the Orkney Sailing Club resulted in a very helpful Commodore driving us to an Industrial estate to buy sikaflex etc.

Kirkwall was also good for re-provisioning but the local stores combination of price and lack of quality forced us into Tesco. On the Friday evening, feeling the need to buy our new found friend a Beer, we went to the Orkney Sailing Club. Having accomplished our mission we fell into conversation with a Dutch couple, Mark and Martine and ended up racing on their Scannia 391 with them in the OSC regatta.

A good days racing, third in the morning race and first in the afternoon one, but the real highlight was the start of the second race when unexpected manoeuvres by another competitor forced two yachts ahead to tack on us. The gap between the nearest yacht and the mark was closing rapidly and I was robustly advising the dumping of the main, this was done and only just in time as the flukes of our anchor were either side of ‘Harmony’s VHF antennae and according to their helm only 1 inch off on either side.

The harbourmaster came round to check we would be at the prize giving adding that if we hadn’t won anything then Martine would get a special prize for the most exciting helming. We went.

The welcome we received was outstanding all Cups were filled with port or some other alcoholic mix and passed round. Food, whisky and a ceilidh followed and it was with thick heads and fond memories we departed Kirkwall at 0745 the next day bound North towards Fair Isle and Shetland. The tidal atlas and the electronic charts showed different rates and directions between the islands but the actual tide was different from both and forming tidal races or Roosts despite the only gentle winds. We opted for an exit out of Calf Sound and after a few bumps were heading towards North Rolnaldsay which is unusual in that it has a wall around it and the sheep live between that and the sea so that they eat seaweed which gives them a unique flavour.

The Food Chain

We wondered what flavour we might be as 2 killer whales headed towards us and then escorted us for 10 minutes. With Dolphins you lean over and get as close as possible but somehow these were not so friendly looking. At least 20 foot long, one was a couple of foot from one side of Wild Spirit level with me on the helm, whilst the other held the same position on the other side; both of them with their heads up and definitely ‘eyeballing’ me. Killer Whales do have a reputation for sinking yachts and I had just come up with a cunning plan to dissuade them (stop the boat and pour diesel over the side) when they started taking it in turns to swim behind us; still less than 6′ off but far less menacing. A little while before them we had seen 2 basking sharks and later a seal gave us some consolation for the lack of wind, but Fair Isle beckoned and as I hoped to arrive with some light, the engine stayed on. The forecast SE3 to 4 was a 2 at best but the visibility was superb and we could see Foula with its huge sea cliffs 39 NM to the North. This is the furthest west inhabited Island in the Shetlands and we hope to sail around it later in the trip.

Fair Isle

Fair Isle is a place I have sailed to before; towering cliffs and welcoming residents beckoned again so in we went. The Frenchman we went alongside was not so welcoming despite having put Fenders out ready for someone to raft alongside, and rather unusually, his English was worse than my French. As he was the only yacht large enough to lay alongside we moved to the open frame Pier but would have encountered a problem with lack of depth at low tide. Using the Lead line we surveyed all options and moved to the ‘Hammerhead’ which was actually only the end of the Pier and about 6m wide. By this time Ieuean had come along complete with 2 huge ‘Fair Isle issue’ Fenders which the Islanders keep for these circumstances. We also had an invitation to join him later on his yacht for drinks.

Around the corner came the solution to our problems plus the chance to do our good deed for the day and assist with the entente cordial all in one go. ‘One Hull’ was training vessel at least 75 foot long and with its crew of youngsters really did need to be alongside if possible. Having explained the depth issue they decide they could take ground with their long keel so they went alongside the Pier and we sat comfortably outside them without the need to worry so much about its open pile construction or shore lines.

They did sit on the bottom for a couple of hours and rose an extra foot or so above us but we did not have to adjust anything which was probably just as well after enjoying Ieuean’s hospitality on Ptarmigan 4. He was a retired Consultant from Inverness who knew the area well and his company was a real pleasure. ‘One Hull’ were also grateful the locals were as friendly as ever, the weather was fair for our walk round the island and then the wind started to blow from the right direction, a perfect day.

We motored away from the little harbour for less than 5 minutes before the engine went off and stayed off. The course up to Shetland was ENE and the wind was SE4, we sped along across the area known as the ‘Hole’ with its reputation for some of the worse seas around Britain. The forecast was for slight seas locally moderate, only a few waves came over the top as we surfed along recording 9.8 Kts through the water.

Onwards and upwards

Our original plan had been to stop half way up the Shetlands but the wind was forecast to go due East then NE up to F6 at times. A few calculations, refuges identified, we went for it and sailed all the way round the outer Skerries and up to the top with the wind staying on the beam whenever we changed course. Leaving a good margin at the North end to round the tidal races or ‘Roosts’ we managed to just catch the turn of the tide and hurtled past Muckle Flugga as the tide turned to push us South. The wind came round to the NE so it was on our Port Quarter as we logged 900NM since leaving Lymington sailing down the West coast of Unst at 8 Kts Speed over Ground.

The Alarm Sounds

All good things come to an end and the forecast was going cyclonic up to F6 before going variable then NE again—that’s 61 degrees North for you. We sailed into Sand Voe, justly described by the pilotage as ‘Spectacular’ anchored in solitary splendour and anchored in 2 metres near the head of the Voe to let the Cyclonic bit go through. Then it was down to Hamna Voe on the island of Papa Stour with its spectacular cliffs and sea caves; or it would have been if as we approached we had not suddenly run into Fog with 12 kts of wind and a tidal race of up to 6 kts. We had planned for the race and the delicate pilotage into Hamna Voe and our timing for the race was perfect but the Fog and wind combination was worrying particularly as we had no tide height corrections available and only 2m above CD on the Bar into the Voe (WS draws 1.95m). With Graham below on one GPS and me above on helm plus another GPS on Helm and Jim on lookout we edged forward with straining eyes. The jagged teeth of rocks loomed out of the fog the depth under the keel was down to 0.6 m and we hoped the Charts were really GPS compliant—they were and as we anchored the visibility lifted and with 45m of chain and warp out in 6m of water we relaxed at last.

To awake to the sound of an anchor alarm is not the best end to a night’s sleep particularly at 3am, however a quick check revealed that I had set it just a bit to close and we had swung but were still firmly anchored, just as well as later the wind was gusting to over 20 kts. Tucked up in our little bay we had no waves although in the channel just outside the tide was passing at 6 kts. The morning saw the sun and this was truly a beautiful place, better even than Fair Isle, as we sailed away we looked back at the stacks and caves and then on to the cloud in the distance with cliffs under it that was Foula our destination. The wind was forecast as 4 or 5 but we had to motor half way there although the sun now came out and the volcanic past of the island was clearly revealed. As we rounded the Island and its 1400 foot high cliffs we were surrounded by seabirds including ones which didn’t appear in Jims’ little bird book—probably immature juveniles in contrast to the mature ones watching them.

The wind came back and we sailed virtually all of the 25Nm back to Scalloway (are the residents really referred to as Scallywags?).

Scalloway revisited

So here we are in the library of North Atlantic Fisheries College and the locals are as helpful as I remembered before. Last night we ate at the Scalloway Hotel where the seafood platter for 3 people at £45 defeated us by its sheer quantity of superb fresh crab, scallops, crayfish, monkfish, turbot, halibut etc. Tonight we are eating at the College restaurant described everywhere as excellent. Friday at 0600 we set off South and I have spent the last hour trying to work out how to avoid tidal races ‘Roosts’ around North Orkney–not easy in the absence of any figures on tidal arrows or any diamonds but knowing it is springs so they are up to 8 kts!

Rona is an island not many have heard of, even more remote than St Kilda it depopulated earlier, we set off for it but the weather forecast was not good so we had to make do with looking for its light in the distance. The wind held well and we sailed down from the Shetlands to just off Cape Wrath where it first died then went to the South leaving us to beat down the Minch against both wind and tide to arrive at Loch Inver having logged 235Nm in 36 hours.

You catch it I’ll cook it

People giving you fish are a bit like busses, the first gave us some Pollack and we gave him bags to carry the rest, the second gave us Cod, Mackerel and one Cod like fish. Fortunately assistance with consuming the fish arrived in the shape of Anthony who at the age of 79 was sailing his Westerly Centaur solo around Britain. I gathered this is without the aid of GPS, and whilst we did have one example of a small grounding he had made it through the Pentland Firth intact. He is moored behind us and we haven’t seen him up yet which may be due to my attempt to recreate the parable of the loaves and fishes but using wine instead of bread. Fresh Mackerel for breakfast.

Leaving Loch Inver dominated by Siulven’s great dome behind we set off south with fish and some real wild venison. The wind didn’t blow well, so instead of our original destination of Gairloch we anchored in Loch Ewe (full of NATO facilities) for a quiet night, the next day we were off early to the Shiant Islands in the middle of the Minch. The wind blew according to forecast and we flew along in beautiful sunshine to these now uninhabited islands with their steep basalt column cliffs. Anchoring proved a bit interesting as the water was deep close to the shore but we managed and parked within 30m of our own arch in the rocks looking north under 30m high cliffs. A useful lesson here, the charts and reality are different we should be in at least 5 m less of water.

A Langoustine or 2

Now the weather did follow the forecast and it began to rain, really the first serious rain of the whole trip so far. We headed south down the coast of Harris towards Poll Scrot (seriously) with its 27 metre wide entrance. In poor visibility we crept in but then hit a discrepancy between the pilot book and the GPS Charts, We went for the pilot book and crept over the bar, where the GPS would have us on the rocks, and after tying up alongside a fishing boat, Jim has just purchased a box (about 14lbs) of Langoustines for £20.

113 Langoustines to be precise and everyone alive and wriggling—actually quite vicious but then you really can’t blame them. 1284 miles logged, we are assured by the local fishermen that ‘Jura’ the boat we are alongside will not go anywhere for a while. I know little of fishing boats but I sincerely hope they are right, not just because we want a good night’s sleep but also because every 15 minutes or so her bilge pump kicks in spraying several gallons of water against our hull. Not a problem at present as we can hardly hear it above the rain but if the rain stops then it could mean several visits to the heads in the night for at least one of our crew. A strategically placed fender diverts the flow and makes life quieter.

Poll Scrotians?

Leaving Poll Scrot and wondering what the inhabitants are called, under blue skies we headed for Skye and after phoning the harbourmaster opted for Uig, for which the Almanac has no details. After filling with water and Diesel at the pier head Graham and Jim set off to Portree for Gaz whilst I anchored in the harbour which had the brownest sea water I have ever seen due to the peat around it.

It was unfortunate that I had assumed that I had a mobile phone signal and that Jim and Graham would return to the steps close to where they had gone ashore instead of to a slipway which was closer to where the bus back from Portree had stopped but only 15 minutes or so after everyone waiting for the Ferry, I too became aware of their plaintive calls.

A Moral Dilemma

Uig has a brewery so we felt morally obliged to support the local economy before returning to a meal dominated by Langoustines and Venison (the 3 steaks Jim had previously bought were about a pound each). A quiet night at anchor was followed by sunshine and light winds as we sailed out past the Ascrib Islands (don’t trust the charts) and on through the Sound of Harris to the uninhabited Island of Taransay where we anchored in a bay of gleaming white sand before going ashore. I climbed to a summit from which I could just see St Kilda before returning to the beach where the others had discovered a very dead sperm whale about 40 foot long and capable of smelling for Scotland.

Running before the Storm

Now the weather forecasts took a turn for the worst and we returned through the sound stopping in at the tiny port of Leversburgh before seeking advice from the local Harbour master about where we could ride out a Gale. Rodel was the answer and as I type this Wild Spirit lies on a Buoy just outside McCloud’s ancient personal harbour. The weather forecast now has F11 Violent Storm expected tonight and whilst the harbour is open to wind it has only 3 small drying entrances so no waves. We are in Stornoway following a very scenic bus ride, and Judith’s flight has just landed.

Wild Spirit is very well attached, by 3 warps and a Chain, to a Buoy designed to take almost twice her weight and the locals assure me Rodel is really protected but in some ways I am relieved not to be on board (and even more not to have Judith on Board in 60+ Kts of wind). The forecast for the next few days is not good so St Kilda may not happen, at least not this year.

Après le Tempest

The weather forecast was right, after about 1800 all Ferries and flights cancelled and not a spare room in Stornoway. Fortunately as soon as we had arrived we booked rooms and Judith’s flight bounced down before everything closed. The wind in Stornoway was seriously strong and the harbour packed with fishing boats and a few yachts but the harbourmaster managed to get them all safely in. An acceptable meal a good night’s sleep and a reprovision followed by a Taxi back to see if we still had a yacht. Relief, Wild Spirit strained on the Buoy in a modest 30Kts and we now had a neighbour. As we ferried provisions out in the rubber duck we heard how our neighbour a regular sailor in these parts had dragged his anchor and had run through the 15 metre wide entrance in 40kts of wind in the dark then dropped his anchor before falling back to pick up a Buoy. The Council Diver was also inspecting the Buoys and explained how the 3 were attached to a huge ground chain with Anchors at each end. I wished I had known this before going to sleep last night as I had assumed the Buoy was just attached to a large piece of concrete.

We are booked into the Rodel Hotel for a meal tonight to celebrate Graham’s Birthday then we plan to be off at 0500 tomorrow to get through the entrance channel on the last of the rising tide. The wind is declining but is still over 20kts in our sheltered bay. I figure the swell out at St Kilda will not decrease enough to allow a landing for at least 36 hours and we have another Gale forecast for Thursday so with heavy hearts we have accepted we will not land on St Kilda this year. I have figured out that if we can get across to the inner Hebrides by Wednesday we can probably find enough shelter to continue to sail south.

A ring of bright water

On our way across to the Hotel something else happened that lifted our spirits, just in front of us surfaced two Otters rolling and playing, they looked at us rolled again and disappeared. Another splendid meal followed and despite over 20 knots of wind a restful night in the pool at Rodel. (This features as the cover photo on the Hebrides guide—although for some reason the carvings of a man and a woman exposing their genitalia on the church tower are omitted from tourist publications other than the rough guide).

We crept out of the entrance to the pool with 0.3m under us and as we headed south the weather forecast came on. It was better than before and whilst F7 was predicted in about 36 hours time I figured we could just get to St Kilda and back so, once again, we negotiated the Stanton Passage and headed west into a large and at times confused Atlantic swell that made sail trimming difficult.

St Kilda

We arrived at St Kilda about 1500 and quickly went ashore. Made famous for its remoteness and evacuation of its starving inhabitants it is the Island that yachtsmen want to sail to. Frankly it was a bit disappointing due to the power generating plant and several green army huts. Whilst they could see us on AIS (Automatic Identification System) from about 40Nm off any aerial the Coastguard had requested we gave them passage plans and we had done so. Leaving St Kilda we attempted to do so again but could not raise them. A small cruise liner ‘Skye Spirit’ was nearby and I asked them to act as relay, which they happily did, but it took them several attempts to get through as St Kilda really is a long way out into the Atlantic. As we sailed back through the night two small exhausted birds looking like some kind of thrush or fly catcher, landed on board and I popped them into a box for the night. As the sun rose over the mountains of Skye we sailed through Barra sound and picked up Diesel and Water at the pier on Eriksay then released our 2 feathered crew, who flew happily away.

Graham gets Crabs

Eriksay was seriously wet and with nothing obvious to do we sailed round to Castle Bay on Barra logging up our 1500th NM as we arrived. It is a lovely little bay with a small Castle stood on a rock just offshore, with a Coop and a couple of other shops, it also had a Library but internet access did not work as well as I had hoped so no download of the Saga so far. Like so many harbours there was nowhere to buy fish so Graham asked a fisherman and came back with 2 large crabs plus 2 Mackerel, all offers payment were refused. We are seriously wet after our run back from St Kilda through wind and rain but the sun has come out and all hatches are open so we are drying nicely. Despite the strong winds forecast for the night this is a very well sheltered bay and we are secured to another of the Council’s visitors moorings. The Western Isles Council also provide a self service fuel system which we have used.

Surfing South

We slipped from our mooring at 0645 and headed out of the shelter of the bay into a northerly 6 to 7. Soon we were surfing south and we sped on past our original destination of Port Ellen on Islay and down to Lough Swilly, 112 miles at over 7.5 knots and some big surfs of over 10kts. It should have been a quiet night but somehow the warp to the Buoy got twisted round the chain and the plastic buoy hit the hull several times during the night. My half naked efforts to sort the problem failed and it took 3 of us bringing the buoy to the stern the next morning to finally unravel it. Now we are heading west past the cliffs of Bloody Foreland and into an area with little shelter. To make matters more confusing the pilot book, almanac and charts all differ on depths of water for example the pilot has Bunbeg Quay 2m minimum whilst the charts have it as drying. For Burtonport alternative anchorages are given but the names do not appear on the charts nor are positions given in the pilot.

Graham gets more Crabs

The pilot describes Aranmore Island as having some of the most spectacular cliff scenery in Ireland, in my opinion it is right as we sailed round it and after a quick chat with a local fisherman borrowed a mooring for the night in Rossillion Bay off the village of Plughoge. Now, according to the, annually updated, Almanac there is a Pub in the village so we went ashore. At the Quay the fisherman we had met presented Graham (he must look hungry) with a large bag of Crab Claws and then me with a Haddock. The Pub closed over 2 years ago but we ate well and after about an hours work have enough Crab meat for 4 large portions. We popped back onto the Quay this morning and filled with water, Judith went off to the village with the rubbish and got a lift back with the same fisherman who has just given us a detailed, yet forceful, opinion of EU legislation on fishing; most of which is obviously ignored (both the legislation and his opinion). It is a stunningly beautiful morning and the local people are truly friendly, the only trouble is the lack of wind. The lack of useful wind for several days in a go combined with nowhere to get diesel, was not a major consideration until now, but as we motor along for the second day running it is with growing awareness of how sparsely populated this part of Eire really is.

Lifejackets

The Irish Coastguard are encouraging the wearing of lifejackets with each weather forecast comes the standard government message that lifejackets save lives. This morning’s announcement had a personal touch when the coastguard added ‘so get yer lifejackets on lads’. One of the things we have all noticed is how much more relaxed the CGs seem than in the Solent, but then they have far less traffic and Darwinism must have restricted the number of incompetent leisure boaters they have to deal with.

Terry to the Rescue

Today we ran down the coast admiring the magnificent cliffs and featuring in quite a few photos taken by cliff top holidaymakers. The only problem was a lack of wind so we burnt more Diesel. The weather was again fair and is predicted to be so for the next few days which is a marked contrast to the heavy rain currently hitting Southern England. I caught a couple of Mackerel (skipper 3, crew 0) but one was small and undamaged so it went back, the other went to a young lad who had been fishing at the Pier when we arrived, but without much luck. So here we are in Killybegs which lands more fish than any other Irish Port. It is not really geared up for yachts and with a 4m tidal range, sorting fender boards and lines was interesting (a chunk of chain hanging off a line helps keep position). The Almanac indicates Fuel and Water; we encountered some difficulties but help was on hand in the shape of Terry who was on holiday and very kindly drove me to a Garage where I bought agricultural Diesel before he drove me back to the Port. Then another Jim arrived and fixed the water for us, it came from a fire hydrant via a reducing valve and long wide hose pipe, all supplied by the harbour authority. The help we have received in Eire and the Scottish Islands has been inspirational and caused us to reflect on several occasions.

An empty Sea

We sailed out of Killybegs and headed south to the Aran Islands and ran through the night with up to 25 kts of wind mainly behind us. We ran down past the 644m high cliffs of Achill Island under a bright moon. It was Friday night and the fishing fleet was in so for more than 20 hours we did not see another vessel. We picked a Buoy in the harbour at Inishmore and went ashore. Judith engaged the services of Thomas O’Toole and his trusty vehicle and we toured the island starting with the Fortress of Dun Aengus built on the cliff top in 1500BC. We did not know that our Thomas was mentioned in the Rough Guide but we could see why as he gave us a fascinating, amusing, if politically incorrect half day tour for 10 Euros each. The next day, with a forecast of NW5 to 7, we set off south for Fenit.

Fenit

In Inismore we had met another sailor who was also the landlord of a Pub and a lifeboat man. I had said we were going to Kilrush and he told me Fenit was a better alternative. It certainly is an attractive little Marina and was easy to navigate into after a very fast run before the NW breeze. Along the way a group of Bottlenose Dolphins caught up with us and did their impression of the Red Arrows, after a while they disappeared but returned twice more to entertain, it was one of the best displays I have seen and really did look choreographed.

Overlooked by mountains and with a large statue of St Brendan the Navigator on a rock, Fenit is also a tourist centre. This was one of the Ports from which the starving people emigrated during the Potato famine and the rock was one of the last views most of them ever saw of their homeland. On recommendation we ate in the award winning West End Pub and had a marvellous meal before walking back to the Marina along the breakwater which was now filled by sea anglers none of whom appeared to have caught a thing. Chatting with one of them it seems that they hoped for Mackerel and Sea Bass but there had been very few Mackerel this year and not many Sea Bass. There were around 50 anglers there settling in for the night and in 15 minutes I didn’t see any catch a thing, but then I suppose many people think sailing is daft.

West to Great Blasket

A quite morning sail in light airs between islands down to the pretty bay of Smerwick where we spent a quiet night at anchor before sailing along towards the Blasket Islands which are Eire’s answer to St Kilda. Initially the light SE winds allowed good progress but as we went into the tidal race between the mainland and the Islands the wind picked up to over 20kts and it rapidly became too lumpy to anchor and go ashore so we pressed on to Dingle to be met in the entrance by Fungi a Dolphin who has made the harbour his home since 1987. Dingle is a tourist town and prices for meals are expensive by both English and, Irish standards, also the place to eat in is closed tonight so it is dinner on board. This was Judith’s last night on board and Paul rejoins us either late tonight or tomorrow morning. Paul arrives earlier than expected having got a couple of lifts and the wine flows. The next day Judith is off early and we clean up the boat fill the tank with diesel from drums the friendly leprechaun, who runs the Marina, has supplied and then we are off south beating into SE5.

‘Are you alright there Fella?’

The Irish Coastguard do not work from prompt screens and the amount of traffic is much less than the Solent. We did not hear the call that started the emergency but it became clear that a sea kayaker was out near the Skerrigs in F6 wind and quite big seas. We were about 7NM off and a local fishing boat was closer. After about 20 minutes the coastguard got a reply to his question and the kayaker was safe.

The entrance to the little harbour of Darrynane looks daunting when seen in the pilot book. In 25kts of wind the narrow passage between jagged rocks covered in foam looks even worse, but we made it and soon were tied to a visitors mooring before finding the local bar. This is just a room in a house but very cosy and welcoming. Next to it is a small field used as a campsite and as we sat in the bar a young couple came in and enquired from the Landlady whether it was free to camp there, the reply was, “Sure but you don’t think it would be free to camp in the most beautiful spot in the whole of Ireland”.

Under a Cable Car

There cannot be many places where you can sail under a cable car but we found one and with 21m clearance at HAT we fitted under easily as we sailed between the mainland and Dursey Island. Actually it was too windy for the Car to be running and there was a strong wind warning for SE up to force 7 which meant that once again we were beating into it as we headed for Crookhaven which was to be our jumping off point for crossing the Irish Sea. Arriving at 1845 the crew had the boat put to bed and the tender ready by 1900, clearly a record, which must have had something to do with O’Sullivan’s bar being separated from us by just 30m of water. We paid our mooring Fees at the bar and went on to the Crookhaven Inn for a good meal and a great evening talking with 2 Irish couples on adjoining tables, it seemed a very fitting way to conclude the marvellous time we had had in Eire.

Homeward Bound

We slipped our mooring at 0730 and set off past the Fastnet Rock towards the Isles of Scilly. The forecast was for SE4 to 6 and it was more or less right so the crossing turned into along beat which reminded me of the last time I sailed round Britain, which was in the race in 2006, when we beat continually for 11 days. This time it was not nearly as bad and we had various groups of Dolphins for quite long periods, this included one individual who specialised in a barrel roll in the air very close to the boat. About 20 miles off Cornwall the wind died, by this time the forecasts of E to SE 4 to 6 plus gales in Sole had already put us off what could only have been a whistle stop visit to St Marys and I put the engine on to get inshore of the Traffic Separation Scheme off Lands End. The wind returned but as soon as we turned east round Lands End it was on the nose and we tacked on and on as the fog started to form. The weather forecasts were getting more serious with Gales in the Irish Sea and Fastnet and I wanted to be round the Lizard so we pressed on to Falmouth arriving around 1000.

Maritime Museum

What better place to spend a wet afternoon—lots of interesting exhibits and buttons to press, even better as the school holidays are over we could play on the bits designed for kids. Definitely worth the visit and the £10 annual entrance fee. We visited the Seven Stars, the only pub in England where the Licensee is a Vicar, it was as full of characters as I remembered and had the accents been Irish we could have slipped back a week or two. The conversation was the same, fishing, the EU (with adjectives) and the evils of supermarkets. On returning to the Marina I found Cimaroon alongside, a Swan 38, owned by a friend of mine who unfortunately was not on board. A forgettable Marina restaurant meal followed by a good night’s sleep.

Fowey revisited

Fowey is one of my favourite ports but the sail from Falmouth to reach it was one of the wettest I have done for some time. Cimaroon left just before us but ran aground (easily done) reversing out of the Marina. Based on ‘It is a wise man who learns from the mistakes of others’ we turned Wild Spirit round on warps and consoled them as we passed that the rising tide would soon carry them off—it did 10 minutes later. Just outside of the harbour the wind picked up to 25 kts and the heavens opened, at times it rained so hard the sea went flat despite the wind. We plodded on towards Fowey and after a while the sun came out but we were still seriously wet. We visited Fowey Yacht Club which has a superb view over the harbour and makes visiting yachties welcome before returning for a last meal with Paul who was off back to Middlesbrough the next day.

We meet the Bismarck

Well actually the German Warship was called Berlin and it plus various British Navy ships, ribs, helicopters and planes surrounded us as they carried out some kind of exercise—I think it was probably about international relations rather than anything else as they all seemed to go into Plymouth for a lunch break. It was however the Berlin parked in front of us when she came out after lunch and we had to call her on 16 to find out her intentions. After a quick chat we went round her stern and then she set off as fast as she could only to stop again a mile or so further out. After just a spot of rain we flew the asymmetric for most of the run to Salcombe and were watched in by the Coastwatch volunteers as they opened their new visitor centre at Prawle Point. They can’t call out on VHF but we called in and sent them a jolly greeting as one of them used to work with Graham.

Salcombe

Salcombe has much to commend it as a port, a beautiful setting, a welcoming Yacht Club and an excellent little Bakery but there is something about the place which doesn’t appeal so much to me and the moorings are expensive. However, we did have a pleasant couple of pints in the Club a quiet night and some lovely croissants etc which Jim sniffed out as we filled with water alongside the town quay at 0730. Then we were off to Dartmouth on the last 3 hours of tide leaving a misty harbour behind as we crossed the Bar into brilliant sunshine. Formidable in an onshore Gale against tide; the Bar at the entrance to Salcombe inspired the poem ‘The night we crossed the Bar’ in 1916 it also claimed the lives of 13 Lifeboat men as they attempted a rescue.

The Iron Genoa

There was no wind, or perhaps more accurately the true wind matched the tide so you couldn’t even use the tide induced wind. We passed a sailfish whose sail fin was failing to fly. We tried with just the spinnaker, our last resort in light airs, but the engine (Iron Genoa) was on for most of the 20 Nm run up to Dartmouth. Just as we came to the Harbour entrance we had wind and torrential rain which with the spring tide and a difficult Marina berth made parking interesting; especially as it involved ferry gliding in astern to fit into a 45 foot gap under the prow of a huge Gin Palace. As we near the end of the trip the choice of food is more constrained and I am wondering how to break the news about the 6 large Chorizios, 36 part baked Petit Pain, 8 canned Fray Bentos Pies and 4 litres of UHT custard to the other two.

The Dartmouth Diet

There has been some resistance to the new dietary regime which has not been helped by a visit to the Ship Inn at Kingsweir, lovely pub, good beer, pity about the food. We are now heading back across Lyme Bay bound for Weymouth and as the wind has dropped we have put the spinnaker away and are now motoring. One of the notable points about the whole trip was how many inaccurate weather forecasts there have been, we should now be in 15 kts from NW and have 5 from the SW. Jim is skippering this leg as part of his Yachtmaster qualifications and has worked it all out to arrive off Portland Bill just as the tide set to the east. It is a spring tide today with up to 7 kts off the Bill so I watch progress with considerable interest.

Surfing Home

For an hour or two we had little wind but the sun shone and slowly but surely the wind picked up from behind us. We popped up a tri-radial spinnaker without the main and went along smoothly at 5 kts, as the wind rose so did our speed and after 3 hours or so we were regularly hitting 10 through the water with a high of 11.4 as we neared Portland Bill. Our progress over the ground was less impressive as we had over 4 kts of tide against us but as we arrived of the Shambles bank just SE of the Bill it turned and we flew into Weymouth over an hour ahead of Jim’s ETA.

The last Leg

The trick of getting from Weymouth to the Solent is to get the tide right but miss the overfalls off St Albans Head. This meant a 0600 start and out into 20kts of SW wind. As the tide picked up we sped west often achieving 10 kts speed over ground under just the Genoa. As I type this we have just passed through Hurst at 9.6 SOG an hour and a half before the tidal gate closes. So here we are back in Lymington, 2555Nm completed in 42 days with 48 night hours. Just as we arrive we use the last of our 480 tea bags, provisioning perfection!

The second weekend was too windy on the Saturday for spinnaker practice but did give us the chance to hone our manouvering skills. Sunday was superb for spinnaker work and John our experienced super Bow man took the lead and, to his credit, continued to coach and develop the team even after the pole had bounced on his head twice. ‘Superb Entertainment; a fascinating lesson in Vocabulary’  The Solent Spectator

Our third training weekend saw westerlies up to F7 and we used the Heavy weather plus storm sails. The Drogue was used and with the wheel locked we were able to steer with it.