Guernsey and Sark

Jaime writes:

Well, hello again. This time I'm writing from a different point of view, as since becoming a mum I'm more of a passenger than a sailor and now have to take orders from the skipper! Painful as this is, he does seem to be doing a good job.

On July 31st we slipped our mooring in Braye Harbour at slack water in order to catch the start of the Southwesterly current down The Swinge. Tidal currents run hard here, in fact there are plans to install a one gigawatt tidal turbine to harness the power. We tacked our way south to Guernsey and down the Little Russell channel in the company of a few other sailing boats, passing a large cruise ship anchored at the entrance to St. Peter Port.

A lovely Dutch sailing boat followed us out of Braye

Huge ship being painted by a man with a surprisingly small brush

Victoria marina was full thanks partly to an influx of motor boats. We saw them racing past us several hours earlier while we were happily making way on the breeze without the need to burn hundreds of litres of diesel! The waiting pontoons outside the marina were filling up fast with sailing boats and we had to find a place quickly. Unfortunately Lewis woke up and made it quite clear that he wanted feeding. Trying to find a berth while avoiding other boats criss-crossing everywhere to the sound of a screaming baby was a little stressful. Eventually we found a place and coincidentally another Sadler 34 from Brighton came and rafted up next to us a few minutes later.

'Snap'!

Busy dinghy pontoon, St Peter Port

The next day we set about exploring Guernsey. For the princely sum of 60p we were able to catch a bus around the whole island. On the way we stopped on the Southwest corner and took a stroll up to one of the many German observation towers. These are really quite scary concrete structures that dominate the landscape with a commanding view of the coast. Guernsey, like the other Channel Islands was heavily fortified due to its strategic position, both by the British during the Napoleonic wars and the Germans in WW2. The latter occupied the Channel Islands from 1940 to 1945, the only British soil to be invaded. The islands were to be part of Hitler's "Atlantic Wall". I had never really appreciated how close the Germans got to the UK during the war. Earlier, in Fecamp, just a 10 hour sail south of Brighton, I was struck by just how close we were. Having visited the brilliant occupation museum in Guernsey it would appear that as long as you were born on the island, didn't paint 'V' for victory signs on rocks or release carrier pigeons, you would be treated fairly well by the occupiers. However, a grim fate was promised to non islanders and those who engaged in sabotage who were deported and interned in camps on the mainland. 12,000 troops were stationed on the island and an army of slave workers from across Europe and Russia were brought over to construct the numerous military installations including the underground military hospital. Here we found 75,000 square feet or 1.25 square miles of concreted tunnels excavated from granite. In the end the hospital was only used for about 3 months to treat casualties resulting from the D-day landings in 1944.

Lewis learns to navigate on land

Pezeries Point, SW Guernsey

Rocquaine Bay

Pleinmont Tower SW Guernsey

Coastal Watch Tower SW Guernsey

Despite all the military history, Guernsey is beautiful, with a lush rural landscape and contented looking cows. We took a stroll through country lanes to find the Little Chapel which is very pretty, decorated entirely with shells, pebbles and broken china. On our way we bought lovely tomatoes and beans from one of the honesty stalls which can be found outside many people's houses. Speaking of cows, the milk here is 4.8% fat and is really rather tasty. Likewise the butter is a delicious creamy yellow colour. We have a theory; that this fat content is partly due to the fact that rather than being penned in by a fence, many of the cows are chained by the horns to a spot, and don't appear to walk around very much.

Little Chapel

Little Chapel alter

Well, it was time to leave St. Peter Port. As far as marinas go, it is quite pleasant, but feels a bit like living in a carpark after a while. So after croissants baked at the Victor Hugo Boulangerie we headed over to the Island of Sark. We used the strong tidal currents in the Big Russel channel to whip us past Herm and up to the northern tip of Sark. At one point we were pointing at least 90 degrees south of our destination in order to reach it with the tide pushing us north! We picked up a mooring buoy at La Grêve de la Ville on the Northeastern side of the island. This was only after, rather embarassingly, we had dragged our anchor in the deep water and drifted back towards another anchored yacht with their anchor line caught between our rudder and keel. Ouch. This could have gone horribly (and expensively) wrong, as we were effectively attached to the other boat and pulling it.. Of course at this point Lewis decided he was hungry and thought he would excercise his powerful lungs. We were lucky their anchor didn't drag too. However after some quick thinking by the other boat, they swiftly launched their dinghy which they rammed in between our boats, like a big fender. We then managed to get their taught anchor line under our rudder and prop and we were finally free. Eventually we snapped up a mooring buoy, after a race to it with a power boat. You may have noticed it is much busier down here than what we encountered in Scotland last year.

Sark is a little island with only 600 inhabitants. It is still a self-governed feudal state. Wonderfully, there are no cars; transport is by foot, bike or horse. Although tractors also seem to be allowed. We even saw one towing an ambulance trailor. Funnily enough, tractors and horses are forbidden to use the unsealed roads on Sundays. Order is kept by one constable and his elected deputy. We landed on the beach in the dinghy in the pouring rain and shelterd in a cave until it passed. Meanwhile a couple of middleaged British women thought it would be a fantastic idea to go for a swim. Mad. Lewis seemed to enjoy the attention he got, in fact he seems to get a lot of attention from most of the women, and some men, who see his adorably cute face poking out from the sling we carry him in! We enjoyed the beautiful scenery around Sark and checked out the other anchorages around the island which afford protection from most wind directions. However it is hard to get away from the uncomfortable swell, created by the strong wind and tide, which refracts around the island. We found that in the bay that we were in, the tide frequently positions the boat side-on to the wind and waves and it can get quite rolly, in fact it was very hard to sleep. Lewis didn't seem to mind, and slept, well, like a baby. Two nights was all we could bear and Craig prepared our next passage South to Jersey.

Baby Ayesha ashore at La Grêve de la Ville

La Coupée links Sark with Little Sark

Havre Gosselin anchorage and Brecqhou Island

View from La Grêve de la Ville

We remained in Honfleur a little longer than expected, but we didn't mind exploring the town and all the little shops lining the narrow streets. It's a fairytale town, and very popular with French tourists who love being knee-deep in nostalgia and ice cream. However for us, the wind remained in the Northwest for several days, making passages in that direction slow work. The Vieux Bassin filled up with boats waiting to depart for the west coast of England or over Cherbourg. At one stage we had seven others rafted up to us. This makes it very complicated to leave, as every one must slip lines and drive around the harbour waiting while we get out. In such a small space this can be quite good fun to watch!

Rafted 'in'

Honfleur Vieux Bassin

Shopping

One of many artist's studios

The old customhouse

We decided to get out into the Avant-Port and tie up to a 24-hour waiting wall near the lock so that we could leave in the early hours without bothering anyone else. It was also nice to be free of the constant stream of people climbing over our foredeck to get ashore. We bought oysters and cooked prawns in the market which were a real treat, and not at all expensive.

Local prawns and oysters

Honfleur from the Avant Port

Our next passage was to be Northwest acoss the Baie de Seine, and around Pointe de Barfleur to Cherbourg. We were waiting for the uncommon Easterly winds that had been forecast for Thursday, July 24th. It was important to keep in mind other ports we could head for if the winds weren't strong enough to get us around the point in time for the west-going tidal stream. It would be pointless trying to sail against the tide if we arrived too late. All the other ports in the Baie de Seine such as Deauville and St Vaast have drying entrances, and are locked, so it's important to note the times when there is enough tide to get in through the lock gates. For this I used Jaime's clever passage planning chart, which allows the skipper to see at a glance, the tides, tidal gates, and tidal streams for all relevant points, hour by hour along the passage. I expected other sailors would laugh at us for going to so much trouble, but one Irishman we met, sailing single-handed, said it was a great idea. Of course, modern computer-assisted navigators don't need such a thing, but for those of us using traditional charts and tidal stream atlases, it is very helpful. The plan was made to depart at 0330 in order to make the start of the ebb tide out of the Chenal Rouen (ie: the mouth of the River Seine). For most of the morning, the passage of around 80 nautical miles took us almost dead downwind, a very uncomfortable way to sail without a spinnaker, so I altered our course by 20 degrees to starboard, which also gave us better speed, and we made it in to Cherbourg almost exactly on time.

Passage Planning

Jaime's Passage Planning Chart

Ships anchored off the Chenal Rouen

Cherbourg marina panorama

Although it has every facility a yachtsman could ever desire, Cherbourg is not so attractive. The Chantereyne marina is a huge commercial venture tucked in between the large Naval port and the ferry and container terminals. The impressive sea walls were built over many years between a number of stone forts to defend the navy against English attacks. A fine statue of Napoleon now stands in front of the Place de la Republique, welcoming British tourists in their droves off ferries and yachts, all looking for discount cases of wine and champagne. We didn't miss the opportunity to stock up on a bottle or two! The fish market in the Carrefour hypermarket again had a mouthwatering display of local seafood. We scoffed more prawns and oysters, and delicious Dorade, not so common at home.

Napoleon now welcomes the British!

Dorade, about to be baked.

On Monday, we made an early start for Alderney, a mere 22 miles which again, needed to be carefully planned due to the incrediblly swift tidal streams which rattle through the Channel Islands. The Alderney race at springs has been seen to fly at over ten knots, although the atlas only lists it at around six. Given the number of outlying islands and rocks, these are not places to get your timings wrong. However, we sailed in to Braye Harbour, on Alderney, without any drama, and took up a visitor mooring buoy before enjoying a late breakfast.

Morning departure from Cherbourg.

Braye, Alderney

The harbour is defined by a huge breakwater, but is open to the northeast, so a daily check on forecasts is essential, and should the wind come from the northern quadrant a heavy swell will set in and all sensible yachtsmen will have already departed! Our intention was to explore the island on foot, but for the first day we hired bikes and taking Lewis in a sling, explored many of the coastal paths. The island is only 3.5 miles long and 1.5 miles wide, and the coast varies between sandy beaches, tall rocky cliffs, and small secluded bays. Alderney was occupied by the Germans between 1940 and 1945. We explored many of the wartime defences, which range from concrete bunkers and artillery batteries, anti-tank walls, anti-aircraft installations, and older forts on every outlying headland and tidal island which had been converted and reinforced for various military purposes over the centuries. The island was used as a labour camp, and many foreign workers died here. Outside one bunker we met a man who had written a book on the subject who enthusiastically gave us a short lecture and a tour inside.

Memorial to workers of various nations.

Lighthouse on the island's NE corner

Bunker where we received an impromptu lecture

An old part of a fort emerges from the undergrowth

Jaime celebrates life, on a beach!

Lewis, on a bike

There is also abundant seabird life. The nearby island of Burhou, just across the narrow tidal race known as The Swinge, is a puffin and storm petrel breeding ground, and thousands of gannets inhabit several rocks close to the southwest shore. Apparently, if you are patient, you may even come across black rabbits, or the unique blonde hedgehogs.

Gannet colony

Gannets, closer.

A yacht navigates 'The Swinge'

The Sailing Club at Braye is open for two lovely hours every evening and serves a delicious Guernsey bitter. And the fish and chip shop, located just behind, has a permanent queue out the door at dinner time. It's a lovely spot to visit for a few days. St Anne, the main town at the top of the hill is full of little shops and winding lanes, where we stopped at a small museum. Getting Lewis ashore in the dinghy was much easier than we expected, however we resorted to the water taxi later in the evening, just to be on the safe side.

Next stop... Guernsey!

Brighton to Fécamp and Honfleur

Hello again!

Something most readers will know already, but which I didn't mention last year, was that in Dublin we discovered that we were to have a baby! Lewis was born in May, the same month that I was officially made redundant. So, we now have several exciting new directions to explore which never would have been possible while working a 9 to 5 job. Lady Ayesha was reluctantly put on the market earlier this year but due to the so-called 'credit crunch' we've not had any offers, despite advertising her for less than what I think she is worth. Well, we thought, why waste this great opportunity? Let's go sailing again!

We had sailed briefly in French waters before, but really wanted to see more of the coast, and the Channel Islands. With only a few days before the spring tides necessary to get out of the boatyard there was a lot to get ready. The last jobs were completed including keel maintenance and antifouling, and I got a rigger in at very short notice to replace the standing rigging to comply with the insurer's wishes, despite the old rigging being overspecified, and in perfectly good order.

Restepping the mast at Chichester

I arranged to sail her back to Brighton with a friend. Strong wind warnings had been issued for the South coast, but I suspected these would mostly affect sea areas further west. The sand bar at the entrance to Chichester Harbour can be very rough in onshore winds so we sailed up cautiously at high water to check it was okay before heading out to sea. This was to be a shake-down sail to check everything was working properly after being laid up for winter. The passage to Brighton was uneventful, thankfully, but the strong winds later reached force 7 or 8 while a big low pressure system moved across Ireland heading Northeast. We were stuck in Brighton with waves breaking over the marina wall, and it was another six days before conditions looked favourable for the crossing to France. With a newborn baby onboard, we didn't want to take any chances.

Saturday July 12th arrived and we decided the forecast looked good. Indeed, we experienced perfect sailing conditions, with sunny weather and winds between 10 to 20 knots on the beam all day. We didn't need to tack once, just set the sails and pointed her towards Fécamp. Conveniently, the 64 miles across the channel takes the better part of two tides, so we kept to one compass heading the whole way with the tide taking us first west and then east of our intended course in equal amounts.

Goodbye Brighton

Not much to do but enjoy the sunshine!

We raised the French courtesy flag, mid-channel

Ten hours later, we sailed into Fécamp Avant Port and were directed to a berth by the friendly staff. The visitors pontoon was already crowded with foreign boats from neighbouring countries, gathering for the Bastille Day holiday.

Our new crew member

This was to be a busy weekend in Fécamp, which was hosting a dinghy regatta, a huge motorcycle rally, and the National Day celebrations on July 14th. The streets were filled with the youthful sounds of revving motorcycle engines and the relentless explosions of firecrackers. The city lights were switched off around 11pm and we watched the official firework display light up the sky from the foredeck of the boat. Being an old fishing port there is a good supply of fresh fish available from several markets so we had plenty to choose from. I especially enjoyed the enormous oysters, and plaice filets, and of course a visit to a quayside restaurant would not be complete without a plate of 'Fruits de Mer'. We climbed the hill to look out over the Channel from the chalk cliffs, very similar to the Sussex coast, where there are still wartime gunnery postions, built by the Nazis. We enjoyed being tourists and took a tour of the Benedictine Palace, the home of the famous 'DOM' liqueur, which was hosting a Dali exhibition.

'Fruits de Mer'

Dinghy regatta at Fécamp

The French take their cakes very seriously...

...and their Ice Cream too!

Chalk cliffs above Fécamp

Fécamp from above

We decided our next stop would be the medieval town of Honfleur, a locked port just inside the mouth of the River Seine. The passage would take us across the heavily controlled access channels of Antifer and Le Havre, which receive enormous cargo ships and tankers up to 500,000 tonnes! The charts we had were not detailed enough so I had to buy a French one which indicated the recommended routes for small vessels to pass through the various waiting areas and disengagement zones. Fortunately, there were about a dozen ships waiting to enter, but no traffic in or out as we crossed. A difficult day with regards to tides and timings meant that as we approached the mouth of the Seine we were fighting against the last few hours of the ebb tide, and even with the wind behind us, foresail and motor on, we were barely able to make 3 knots over ground despite the log registering 6 to 7 knots. I was nervous about getting into shallow waters as we were almost at low tide and the almanac recommends a local pilot for those unfamiliar with the shifting sands, but I stayed to the side of the dredged channel and didn't see anything less than 5 metres depth.

The lock leading into Honfleur was interesting, with unusual floating bollards. We weren't very well prepared, and our mooring lines were too short, leading to an embarrassing attempt to tie up, watched by a ferry full of tourists, all documenting our efforts with their cameras. We eventually gave in and tied up to the ferry instead. Once through to the other side and then under a lifting roadbridge we arrived in the Vieux Bassin, a picturesque sheltered harbour, a bit like a town square, overlooked by beautiful old buildings, with restaurants, cafes and galleries all along the cobbled quay. This is probably the least private place we've ever stayed, but great fun. Every time I look out the hatch there is someone taking pictures, but I've enjoyed having coffee and croissants on deck in the morning, watching the waiters setting up the cafe tables and the crowds slowly filling the streets.

Yesterday we climbed to the top of the hill for a view of the town and a visit to the Chapel Notre Dame de Grâce which has little model sailing ships hanging in the air below it's ornately decorated domed ceiling.

Honfleur town centre

Night panorama - click to zoom around!

Today is market day so a bit of shopping for local produce is in order. The weather's a bit damp so we are happy to stay here another day or two. We plan to make perhaps one or two more stops before Cherbourg where we expect to make for Alderney, the closest of the Channel Islands. Lewis seems to be quite content on board. We have strung up a small hammock for him in the cabin, and have a baby car seat which can be lashed down to keep him safe in rough weather. It's so tempting to buy him a little French sailor's outfit, but I've resisted, so far.

Isles of Scilly to Chichester

(Hello again, and apologies to anyone who thought we were still in the Isles of Scilly. We did in fact return to the mainland. Here is the last chapter of the story that I should have posted in October last year!)


Our time in the Scillies came quickly to an end. We only had two weeks to be home and so needed to keep making progress east. On Sunday October the 7th, after several nights anchored in Porth Conger we awoke before dawn and motored out between the rocks as soon as there was enough light to see our way. The passage to Falmouth wouldn't make the best use of tides since we preferred not to leave in the dark. The forecast was for East 3 or 4 becoming variable 3 or less, and veering Southwest later. The wind wasn't as strong as expected, and the veer to SW which we were waiting for never quite eventuated. So we motored for much of the way, passing Lizard Point around dusk, and arriving in Falmouth about 10pm. Jaime wasn't feeling too well so appreciated the chance to rest during the day. Again we anchored in the harbour near the old town centre, not far from several warships in the commercial docks for repair.

Falmouth Harbour again

We stocked up with fresh food, did a bit of shopping and had a puncture in the dinghy repaired. We also discovered that for the first time in ages our laptop was receiving a good digital TV signal. Amazingly, there wasn't much worth watching and so the initial excitement soon disappeared.

On Friday we made another early start bound for Fowey where we spent the weekend with blog readers Claire and Pete who came for a visit. We had a picnic up the river, did a spot of fishing and roasted a chicken in the evening. Fowey is a picture postcard town of weathered stone and narrow lanes, and being centred around a river mouth is typical of many along the Southwest coast. We used the harbourmaster's visitor pontoons since anchoring is not permitted. This gave us good wi-fi access which meant we could start researching where to leave the boat for the winter, and keep a constant eye on the weather forecasts. Winds were expected to be favourable for at least another day so we planned on making several further quick hops along the coast.

Fowey

Jaime sailing around Start Point

On Monday morning we refuelled and sailed across the bay to Start Point and up to Dartmouth where we arrived late in the evening. We couldn't find any visitor moorings free so we tied up to the end of the town quay hoping nobody would charge us for such a short stay. We snuck ashore to a restaurant for a much anticipated meal before getting a bit of kip and sailing out again while it was still dark. To leave the harbour at night you must stay within the white sectors of the leading lights which take you safely past private moorings and several rocks near the river entrance. These lights turn red or green if you stray too far to port or starboad. The forecast was for stronger winds, good for sailing, but the direction was due to become cyclonic, meaning the centre of the pressure system would be passing above us. This can result in confused seas where wave direction changes over the course of the day. The first leg of our passage plan would take us 40 nautical miles across Lyme Bay to Portland Bill. The races off the Bill can sometimes be very dangerous, and may extend more than 5 miles out to sea so it is important to pass it with a fair tide, and to avoid wind against tide situations. A few hours out of Dartmouth, in uncomfortable choppy seas, and with fairly slow progress, the decision was made to turn around and set a course back to the nearby port of Brixham, which we discovered has a popular sailing club with cheap moorings for visiting yachts. We were happy with what turned out to be a good decision. The friendly members bar serves decent beer and good cheap food - we couldn't say no to two excellent sirloin steaks at only £6 each, nor the use of their brand new showers. I bought some fish from the fishmonger near the town quay and had a look around the shops for some more fruit and veg, passing many groups of seaside tourists at the cheap end of the season, waving their cameras and steaming bags of chips about in the drizzly weather.

The next day winds were much more favourable, Force 4 or 5 from the northwest, which would give us plenty of speed. We still weren't quite sure how far we'd get as it was hard to predict what our progress over ground would be for such a distance. We had several tidal gates ahead of us, the most important being to get past Portland Bill with a fair tide, and then consider going into Weymouth Bay, or carry on past St Albans Ledge and Anvil Point to anchor in Studland Bay, near Poole. However, as it turned out, by the time we first sighted the Isle of Wight I calculated we'd be in perfect time for the start of the flood tide which could take us up the Needles Channel and into the Solent. Even though it would be well after dark, this opportunity couldn't be missed, so we pressed on, choosing Yarmouth as a destination as the entrance is straightforward and well lit. We spent the rest of the night on a quiet visitor pontoon and spent the next day relaxing and catching up on sleep. It was a great feeling to have made such quick progress and to be so close to home.

Yarmouth Harbour

After ringing around and comparing prices for winter storage at various places we decided on a small marina near Chichester which is in a drying area upstream of Chichester harbour and can only be approached near the top of spring tides. Therefore we had about five days to wait until we'd be sure of getting there without going aground. On Friday we sailed around to Newtown River to anchor near Clamerkin Lake which is always a beautiful escape from the busy Solent, even when full of visiting boats. It has good ground for secure anchoring and is always full of geese, gulls, egrets, herons and many other birds attracted to the grass and drying mudflats. We'd arranged to meet up with blog readers Kerry and Steve in Lymington, just a few miles across the Solent. They joined us for a bit of a sail and a meal out in Yarmouth. After dropping them back the next day we returned to Newtown River to spend another peaceful couple of days exploring the creeks in the dinghy and doing a few short walks ashore.

The 'cheap' pontoon has no walk-ashore access.

Yarmouth Ferry Terminal

Yarmouth Pier

Dawn at Newtown Creek

Sunrise at Newtown Creek

Steve and Kerry pay us a visit

On Tuesday we sailed out of the Solent past the busy ports of Southampton and Porstmouth and the great round forts which guard the eastern approach and on to Chichester, getting to the bar at the entrance a little late in the ebb, but not too late to enter the harbour slowly against an increasing current. We stayed overnight on a waiting pontoon near Sparkes marina and the next morning headed upstream to make the lock by 1030. We were a bit nervous as we were told there'd only be millimetres under the keel. Unfortunately the high pressure system which had brought such warm weather over the last few days also affects tidal waters causing significant differences to predicted heights. After navigating the narrow channel between green and red posts towards the marina we arrived at the lock on time but there just wasn't enough water to get over the concrete sill and we bumped heavily against it next to the water level marker showing just under six feet. Half a dozen people quickly gave a hand pulling halyards and weighing down the port side of the boat trying to swing the keel high enough to get over the sill with only inches of space on either side. I ran around pushing fenders between the toerail and the concrete sides, and began getting concerned about what would happen if we got stuck there, blocking the marina sill and allowing all the water to spill away with the tide, leaving at least half a dozen boats stranded in the mud inside the lock. We finally managed to scrape over the sill only to hit ground again a few metres in, fortunately past the sluice gate and close enough to another boat to tie up to. She wouldn't be going anywhere until the next morning tide which would be at least 10cm higher. The marina staff brought in two more boats behind us, fortunately with shallower keels, and then closed the gate before the tide began to ebb. Blog reader Phil generously came to meet us in his van and took us and a load of stuff back to Brighton where we had our first baths in seven months.

Sluice gate is up. Note the high water level never made it to 6 feet.

Tied up at last, but still touching the mud.

Lady Ayesha is lifted out of the water...

...on this remote control submersible lorry.

Welcome Home

The next morning we returned by train and floated the boat at high water and had her lifted out and placed on a cradle where she will spend the winter. And so our journey is at an end. All that is left to do is prepare the engine for winter and give her a good clean, inside and out. It has been a fascinating voyage discovering so much of the British Isles and meeting all sorts people whose lives revolve around the sea. Within so many incredible landscapes we've become familiar with the sealife and birds which inhabit these waters, and its been great trying all the amazing seafood that was offered to us. We've been in constant awareness of changing weather patterns and lunar cycles affecting tidal heights and currents. And we've been the recipients of so much friendly help and generous hospitality, particularly in the most remote places where people's lives seem to us much simpler and in tune with the seasons. And there is still so much yet to see. Now we must again get used to traffic, crowds of people, constant media access and these remarkably steady floorboards! Thanks for reading this blog. I hope you enjoyed it!
Craig and Jaime.

(July 2008: Stay tuned... due to a several changes of circumstances we won't be going back to work after all! We now have an additional crew member and are preparing to set sail again, this time across to France and the Channel Islands.)

The Isles of Scilly

Jaime writes:

The Scilly Isles consist of 48 Islands separated by sandy rock-strewn channels. Their position in the Southwestern corner of the United Kingdom affords them the benefit of warm weather transported by the gulf stream, but at a cost of being exposed to the full force of the Atlantic weather.

We arrived in New Grimsby Sound which is quite a sheltered place to stay in terms of swell and wind. It was used in 1942 as a base for mock French fishing boats which would take on reconnaissance missions to the French coast. Their mission was very important as the information they gathered helped to prepare for the D-Day landings. I digress…. We spent a couple of days exploring Tresco which is a very pretty island, with well tended gardens full of tropical plants spilling out over the stone walls. There are no cars on the island. Instead, those who don’t use their legs get around in golf-cart type vehicles. The experience was made all the better as summer seemed to have arrived, giving us beautiful hot days. We even spent an afternoon sunbathing on a deserted beach next to Cromwell’s Castle. In October!!

Cromwell's Castle

Sunset in New Grimsby Sound

Beach near Cromwell's Castle

Abbey Gardens, Tresco

Abbey Gardens, Tresco

Separating New Grimsby Sound from St. Mary’s, the main Island, are Tresco Flats. These are about a mile of sand flats that dry, that is to say that at low tide you can walk around. Not good news for a boat with a draught of 1.8m. As well as the sand, there are also quite a few rocks to avoid, but our pilotage guide makes the point that most of these rocks are “friendly”, as they are distinctive and can be used for navigation. So we made a trace of the chart, marking the relevant transits and bearings on it and headed off in the dinghy quite close to low water, across the flats. We followed the same route as we would go in Lady Ayesha, which worked fine and gave us confidence to do it for real.

Craig continued on to St. Marys, and dropped me off at Tresco Abbey Gardens. These are beautiful gardens with more than 4000 original plants. Many of the exotic plants were originally brought here by Scillonian Master Mariners returning from their travels. There is also the Valhalla Museum which contains numerous figureheads from the many ships that have been wrecked (and salvaged) on the shores of these islands.

Craig returned later with supplies and news of the French who we had met in Dublin. The next day they joined us in New Grimsby Sound and came over for dinner, which was good fun, and quite fortunate for them too as they had just run out of cooking gas.

The harbour master had given us a good deal on the mooring, so we stayed a couple more days than we had planned. We eventually headed off at the top of the tide across the Tresco Flats, without any problems and over to St. Mary’s Pool next to Hugh Town where we picked up a mooring buoy. We were told that in summer you cannot get a buoy for love nor money as it is so busy. Hugh Town is another lovely town, and what struck me was the amount of bird song. The air was positively alive with the buzz of birds singing in the palm trees and lush gardens. They also seem to be very tame. When we went for a walk we noticed they didn’t scatter as we approached them, they just carried on with what they were doing. We even hand fed a Song Thrush and some Blackbirds. Our walk took us past the Garrison, built during the civil war, across Porth Cressa Beach and around Peninnis Head with its peculiar rock formations to Old Town where we brought ice creams, as the weather had miraculously stayed hot. We had a packed lunch in the sublime Carrag Dhu Gardens which we had to ourselves, except for the friendly birds. One sentence in the Channel Pilot we are using would not get out of my head, it follows: “Buy some bulbs for your garden and keep your holiday for years” So as we passed Sunnydale farm which had an assortment of bulbs for sale, we just had to get some, ignoring the fact that we don’t have a garden.

Hugh Town moorings, St Mary's

Hugh Town sunset

Porth Cressa, St Mary's

That evening just before the sun set, with all its glorious pinks and purples and oranges which reflect in the calm waters, we motored off and dropped the hook in the pinch (Porth Congar) between Gugh and St. Agnes. As anchorages go, this is not particularly sheltered, but the weather has been so benign that it was possible to stay here for a couple of days quite comfortably. We walked around St. Agnes in the afternoon, which is a great place just to relax. On the way we passed Beady Bay, so named as a cargo of red & black Viennese beads from a ship wrecked on nearby rocks was washed up here. The western side of the island, near St. Warnes Bay offers spectacular views of the Western Rocks, which today looked so striking against the bright sky, but must be terrifying on a stormy night. By the way, St. Warnes is the patron saint of Shipwrecks. It would seem that Admiral Sir Clowdisley was not praying to the right saint on the foggy night of October 22nd 1707, for his ship, The Association and three other navy ships struck the outlying rocks and sank to the bottom like stones- with the loss of 2000 lives. The Admiral actually survived and was washed ashore where he was found by an old Scillonian lady (no doubt with a beautiful garden). However the old lady fell in love with the emerald ring on his finger, and promptly murdered him for it! The simple reason that they hit the rocks was because they did not know how far east or west they were as the question of longitude had not yet been resolved. The sinking of the Association catapulted the longitude question into the forefront of national affairs and eventually lead to the Longitude Act of 1714 in which parliament promised a prize of £20,000 for a solution.

Briefly, lines of latitude were derived from the movements of the sun, moon and stars, and therefore could be easily calculated with celestial navigation, however the placing of the lines of longitude was a political decision. Hence why the Greenwich Meridian line (0 degrees longitude) runs through London (the French didn’t like this by the way and used to refer to it as “Paris Mean Time, retarded by 9 minutes twenty-one seconds“). To learn one’s longitude at sea, you need to know exactly what time it is aboard the ship and exactly what time it is in a reference port. So what was needed was an accurate clock, that would keep time in a rolling, wet, hot/cold ship. If you want to know the end of this fascinating story that stumped natural philosophers & the like and changed the world, read Longitude by Dava Sobel. Nowadays we have GPS, which is frankly amazing when you think about what it actually does.

Gugh

Gugh looking over the bar to St Agnes

St Agnes Beach stone piles

Western Rocks

Anyway, so the Scillies in the right weather are a gorgeous semi-tropical paradise with lush gardens, turquoise sea, and white sandy beaches, in fact the perfect place to chill out and read a book before heading home to Brighton, just watch out for those old ladies with an eye for jewellery…

Republic of Ireland

Tuesday September 18. From the Irish Sea we sailed several miles along the narrow buoyed channel into Carlingford Lough, which marks the Eastern end of the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. We must be getting soft because we decided to use the marina rather than anchoring, probably because of strong wind warnings. I also raised the yellow Q flag under the Irish courtesy flag below the starboard spreader as I am not an EU citizen. I even called Immigration and the local Gardia, but disappointingly, nobody seemed to be too interested that I had arrived in the Republic. I put my passport back in its box and we went ashore to discover the delights of Carlingford. The marina pontoons are quite run down and the place doesn't seem very well managed. However, the town is a neat and tidy place to visit with a number of inviting pubs and many well kept historical buildings. We spent the evening in a pub enjoying some really good trad Irish music and sat next to a table of Swedish golfers who also joined in and entertained us with some of their own songs and jokes, usually relating to the consumption of beer and the hunting of deer, or women.

The next morning we thought it was about time we climbed another mountain, and the one overlooking Carlingford was a nice easy walk through thick heather and blackberries. Great views over the lough, but a difficult thrash through the forest to get back into town. Next time we'll follow the path!

Carlingford Lough looking towards Northern Ireland

On Thursday we had an uneventful sail down to the Skerries, which would be a stopping point on our way to Dublin, only another short day sail south along the coast. This would be our first entry into a major city port. The towering cranes, commercial dockyards and the massive container and cargo ships were awesome to watch from our little boat. From seaward into Dublin Bay there are three major shipping lanes forming a kind of roundabout in the centre so it is fairly straightforward to predict where vessels are going and keep out of their way. We were obliged to call the port authority on the radio to ask for clearance, then drop sails and enter under power as it is important to keep well clear of the busy commercial shipping channel leading into the River Liffey.

The Dalek guarding the entrance to the Liffey!

Entering the commercial port area

Everything was going fine until we were approaching red buoy number 14. That was when the temperature alarm went off, indicating that the engine was overheating and we had to shut it down straight away. Unfortunately we had a massive cargo ship just behind us and another leaving the docks ahead of us. No problem. Jaime got on the radio to inform the port authority of our problem and we used the river's stream to steer the boat to just outside the channel, in front of an ancient timber pier near an old power station where we dropped the anchor and I went below to sort out what was causing the problem with the engine. I hadn't got further than removing the impellor cover when a couple of blokes in a RIB turned up and offered us a tow to the marina upstream past the docks. After making sure it wasn't going to cost us anything we decided to take up their offer and they towed us to the pontoon at Poolbeg marina where we stayed overnight. I got on the phone to Bukh and order some new parts to be delivered ASAP, replaced the cracked impellor and fixed up the pump as best I could with a cardboard gasket cut out of a Kelloggs box.

Getting a tow!

Poolbeg Marina

Container terminal near Poolbeg

Between Poolbeg and the Dublin City centre about a mile further upstream there is a road bridge which is always busy with city traffic. It only has a few metres clearance at high water so to pass it we needed to get the traffic stopped and the bridge lifted. We booked a lift for the Friday morning and carried on to Dublin City Moorings, in the heart of the city, where we parked up near the 'megayacht' Fortunate Sun. This was occupied by a single American family. You too could hire this boat for your next holiday, at a mere one million US dollars per month! Anyway, it was good fun to get ashore and experience a big city again. The first thing I noticed was the constant noise that a city generates. Nothing in particular, just an accumulation of millions of different things emitting sound all blended together. It takes a while to get used to. We spent an afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art, wandered around Temple Bar at night, visited a few pubs for some Guinness, poured close to home, ate a meal at a Lebanese restaurant, did some market shopping, sorted out the boat, and relaxed on deck while modern life surged on around us. After the solitude of anchorages in Orkney and Shetland, and the Western Isles of Scotland, it felt really strange to emerge in the morning to drink my coffee in the cockpit, and watch people wearing office clothes, rushing past on their way to work, mobile phones stuck to ears and briefcases clutched in hand. I tried not to think too much about having to join them all again next year.

Dublin City Moorings

River Liffey

Dublin street market

Pub window

Parked near Fortunate Sun

While we were there, a French boat called Summertime turned up and we met the crew - five young chaps who had sailed from France to Orkney, Iceland and Shetland in a boat they'd bought just for the trip and would be selling once they returned http://romanee.over-blog.com/ - 50,000 euros if anyone is interested! Aluminium hull and a nice looking boat. We'd even met some of the same people in Shetland. We discovered they would also soon be heading south, back to France.

After 5 days it was time to get out, and on Thursday the crew of Summertime decided to sail in company with us to Arklow, about 30 miles south where we would meet again. We planned to take photographs of each other's boats and swap the pictures later. Since we left Brighton in April we haven't had a single photo of Lady Ayesha actually under sail.

Motoring out of Dublin

Photographers aboard Summertime

We motored out into Dublin Bay and hoisted plain sails for the passage to Dalkey Sound, between Dalkey Island and Sorrento Point on the mainland, where a few Irish celebrities such as Bono and Enya own houses. Lady Ayesha sailed ahead at first with her slightly longer water length and bigger genoa (foresail). However, with our respective national ensigns flying in the breeze, it wasn't long before we detected a sense of competitive spirit from the French boat. After we pased Dalkey Island we saw them eagerly hoisting their spinnaker for the downwind run to Arklow. We don't carry a spinnaker, so we hoisted our cruising chute which didn't do too badly, and got us speeds up to 8 or 9 knots.

All going well...

Still going okay...

Damn! The French are in the lead!

Summertime doing 10 knots past the windfarm

With the wind dead behind us their spinnaker gave them the advantage. It was a fast and fun passage nonetheless. We moored in the river at Arklow and they in the marina where we met up again for a glass of wine and some music in the afternoon sunshine.

We hadn't made any exact plan for the passage further south, but with forecasts of Easterly and Northeasterly winds for another few days, which would be accompanied by a pleasantly slight or moderate seastate, we thought it would be a perfect opportunity to make the passage across the St Georges Channel and the Celtic Sea to our next destination - the Isles of Scilly. This would be a long passage of about 180 sea miles which we expected would take around 36 hours. We prepared the boat that evening and the next morning we slipped our lines and headed out into a fair tide and a perfect wind, aft of the beam. With the cruising chute hoisted again we were flying along at speeds of 7 knots or more, giving us a great start. I'd been watching the sky, wondering about visibility that evening since we were expecting plenty of light from the moon, and fortunately we had very few clouds. It makes such a difference to sail under a full moon, being able to see for miles around. We continued to make good progress through the night but by Saturday morning the wind had dropped and we decided to motor until it picked up again. The Scillies are surrounded by many offshore rocks and we wanted to arrive in daylight to ensure safe pilotage. In all the passage took only 33 hours and by 1900UT we were safely moored in New Grimsby Sound between the Islands of Tresco and Bryher.

Northern Ireland

Jaime writes:

The fresh westerly winds continued to blow and we set sail from Gigha mid morning. We quickly put a reef in the main in the lee of Cara Island as the wind built and headed south towards the Mull of Kintyre. There are apparently many songs about this sticky-out-bit, although I can’t recall any of them just now. We tried to stay a few miles west of the Mull to avoid the rough sea state typically found close in and started to track across the Traffic Separation Zone used by large ships transiting the North Channel. As the channel is relatively narrow ships must follow the zones north or south. They are quite useful for small ships crossing such areas, as providing you know where you are you can expect the ships to come from one particular direction only. There is also a handy safe zone in the middle. The strong tides pushed us south easterly down the channel and we closed in on our destination of Red Bay on the Northeast coast of Northern Ireland. We arrived after dark and dropped the hook. We hardly slept a wink, as the anchorage turned out to be very squally and the boat was kept beam-on to the waves which made it very uncomfortable. Early the following morning we sailed the short distance around to Glenarm marina and fell asleep there. It was a lovely little sail; the tide whisked us past Garron Pt as the sun rose in the east, shining a fresh light on the lush Antrim coastline.

Glenarm Marina

The sturdy white limestone harbour wall of Glenarm gave it a Mediterranean feel and as the sun was shining it was quite beautiful. The friendly staff of the marina welcomed us and charged us a very reasonable £10 per night which included everything. As a bonus, we'd tied up next to the Harbourmaster's fishing boat, who kept us in supply of fresh (still flapping) fish while we were there. One night he gave us a 2lb Pollock which was gorgeous. Craig steamed it; Hong Kong style, yum, yum.

Fresh Mackerel

Glenarm

Lord Antrim's House

Steamed Pollock

This was also the first time we had met a man with a pet congor eel. He lives under the bridge in the harbour, the harbour master feeds him fresh mackerel.

Glenarm is a very pretty town at the foot of the last of the 9 glens of Antrim. We went for a walk the beautiful forested valley, the trees were old and mixed, it had a proper forest feel about it, and such a nice change from the boggy landscape of Scotland. There is also a really fancy turreted castle there, where apparently Lord Antrim resides at weekends.

While we were there we took the time to give the boat a good clean inside and out, and Craig tracked down the tiny corroded wire that had stopped our radar from working. This was after I had hoisted him up the mast to took at the radome; where he had fun swinging around; and I had fun letting him down….

Mast Climbing

A Pint of Guinness at last

The next morning We left a note to the Harbourmaster... 'so long and thanks for all the fish". A fresh offshore wind and the tide carried us south, down the coast towards Belfast. As we passed within a few hundred meters of the Isle of Muck, Craig thought he could here singing. As we got closer it sounded like deep groaning and moaning, we thought it might be seals again, but we couldn’t see any. Then we noticed some Manx Shearwaters hanging around in groups. These supposedly have an eerie call when returning to feed their young, so maybe that was it.

We arrived in Bangor, on the south side of Belfast Lough a couple of hours later. This is a full-on commercial marina, with hundreds of yachts. Belfast port authority doesn’t allow yachts in to the port, so we had to use Bangor as a base to visit the town.

We had a couple of days over the weekend to explore Belfast. It felt a lot like London really. There are heaps of pubs and naturally we sampled a couple of them and had a pint or two of the black stuff. We also visited a gallery which exhibited photographs taken by the Irish Press Association on the theme of the euphemistically named "Troubles". Later that afternoon we went for walk in to west Belfast to the Shankill and Falls areas. Respectively these are the protestant and catholic areas of the city, you can tell where you are by the colours of the flags flying. We had gone there to look at the murals, which are really quite amazing. In particular are those found on the Shankill housing estate, a strange place to find yourself as a tourist. We found it hard to believe that some of the murals still existed, as I’m sure they remain provocative.
We gathered from the local radio and newspapers following recent tragic events that the main trouble in Belfast now is caused by gangs of young wayward kids attacking and terrorising people.

Falls Road Mural 1

Falls Road Mural 2

Mural on Falls Road Sinn Fein office wall

Shankill Road Mural

Shankill Estate Mural 1

Shankill Estate Mural 2

Shankill Estate Mural 3

Bangor is also a vibrant town. On the day before we left there was a chav/hoon- mobile show in the car park. I don’t actually know what the proper name for these cars is, but I mean the type that have massive booming speakers in the boot and drive around very fast, skidding their apparently expendable tyres, and congregating in ASDA carpark. These cars were "top of the range" for this style, and were frankly amazing. Instead of having their bonnets open to show off their engines, the boot was open to show off their zigadecibel speakers, One special car, about the size of a VW golf had only room for a racing drivers seat, the rest of the car was literally full of pumping speakers, TV screens, and flashing dials & buttons, it was so loud you couldn’t stand near it for long. We could feel the base from all this music through the hull of the boat.
The following morning we left and it was the passage between Bangor and Strangford Lough that would prove one of our toughest so far. Strong winds had been forecast which is nothing new but we got a little something extra. We were only 15 miles from our destination mid morning when the wind started to kick in. The south westerly wind forced us offshore in to more exposed waters and we started to get large waves that were building in the deeper waters with the larger fetch. What followed was a mini F8 gale. The wind was in the high 30’s and I saw 43kts (80km/h) on a number of occasions. It wasn’t long before we were negotiating waves about 5m high. Until then we had kept our foresail up to give us more speed to sail up the waves and keep steerage, but it got too much with the winds and Craig gallantly volunteered to crawl to the front of the boat and pull the sail down. In the past when we have encountered strong winds, luckily we have been sailing with the wind behind us, but this time we were sailing up wind which makes things altogether more annoying, mostly because the apparent wind is felt so much more. With the foresail down the boat became more manageable, but we had lost a lot of speed. Its best to try and sail up and down the waves in a weaving manner so you don’t send yourself head down a wave and dig your nose in the trough or fall down the back of a wave because you don’t make it to the top. I have to say though, that the boat handled so well, that we weren’t particularly worried and we after all didn’t have far to go. It is during such weather that one experiences the "Mermaid Facial". First of all dry and dead skin cells are exfoliated from your face by sharp rain which is targeted at right angles. All micro-debris are dispersed by a refreshing bathtub quantity of cold water infused with mother natures blend of inorganic (the new organic) minerals which lands on your head. This blend also has antibacterial properties which penetrate and clean your pores. Your face is then blown dry so that you can start from the beginning again. This cleansing routine is repeated on a number of occasions depending on how lucky you are. Facial muscles are also exercised as successive expressions of shock and horror followed by relief sweep across your face periodically. Happily, I had timed my facial with the passing of a cold front, this meant that in addition to the above I was subsequently dowsed in soft rain, blown dry and then the sun came out, to rouge my cheeks. Giving that "just been slapped by a wet mermaids tail look".

So anyway, enough sillyness. Over a 15min period the wind veered 90 degrees to the north west and dropped back to a gentle breeze just as quickly. This was great, except we how had no wind to sail over the large waves, which don’t die down so easily. We put the engine on, which then overheated as it wasn’t getting enough cooling water in to the water inlet, and was instead taking large gulps of air, causing airlocks because of all the lolloping about. This led to Craig checking the inlet filters, messing around with water pump impellors and making a new gasket out of a Kellogg’s packet- tricky when you are being thrown around. Thankfully the wind picked up again to give us a sensible amount wind to get to the entrance to Strangford Lough. The entrance to the lough is very tidal, and we were cutting it fine with our arrival time, what with the engine playing up as well we sadly decided to go elsewhere. So Craig set the course for Ardglass. As we closed the shore the waves became much more manageable and we tacked our way to the harbour entrance and glided into an empty berth in the sheltered harbour as the sun went down over the hills behind the little town. Having liberally applied aloe vera and some St. John’s Wort oil prepared by my mum, my face has stopped tingling.

We learnt an awful lot from this experience, which was thankfully short and sweet. The bookcase index (how many books fall off the shelf in the forepeak) indicates that this was the roughest weather we have encountered, as all the books fell off the shelf.
We stayed in Arglass for a couple of days to rest. There isn’t much going on in the town. The local bartender told us there aren’t any festivals in the town as people just end up getting drunk and fighting. Umm.

Our next destination was Carlingford Lough in Ireland. We were still a little nervous of the weather and so we motored close inshore all the way. The wind was on the nose and we didn’t want to tack further off shore again, and the weather was miserable anyway so beating (zigzagging 45 degrees across the wind) down the coast wasn’t a very attractive option.