This log has no pictures. It was far to hectic to allow me time or energy to take photographs
2006 - Home alone! Brest to N.Ireland
This log won the Rockabill Trophy of the Irish Cruising Club
It’s not that I don’t like sailing with other people, it’s just that I like to sail on my own occasionally. So when Ann announced months ago that she didn’t want to come on the boat from France to home but would rather go and play with her garden I was quite happy to use the opportunity for a solo sail. She tried hard to get me to recruit a crew and it would not have been hard to do that, but I wanted a bit of ‘quality time’ with myself! As someone said, ‘It’s a man thing’.
We had been down to northern Spain and taken part in the ICC’s Basque Rally - and very good it was. We had flown to Iceland to join James N (ICC) on the RCC’s Lord Dufferin ‘Meet’ - and very good that was too. We had spent all of August slowly cruising north up the Biscay coast of Brittany with various guests aboard. Now I simply had to get Faustina II home.
Ann flew home from Brest via Paris on 31 Aug. I had to wait another day in the ‘Moulin Blanc’ marina in Brest until a large tear that I had made in our RIB had been professionally repaired. The RIB was returned on Fri 1 Sep and half an hour later at 11.30 we (Faustina II and I) slipped. 10 minutes later we were alongside again – I had stopped in the marina to lift the fenders but inadvertently left the engine running very gently in reverse and backed into a small French yacht. Fortunately the very small scratch I inflicted was as nothing compared with the mess the boat was already in. The owner was away so I left a note, which a Belgian couple translated into French for me – and we were away again.
The wind this year had been nothing if not consistent. It had always been on the nose wherever we went – and so it was now. With one reef in the Main (which I usually keep in whenever I am sailing solo as that is the only one that I have to go on deck to put in) we (the boat and I) motored our way west through the Rade de Brest, past Camaret over to port, and on to the Chenal de Four. It was rather foggy with vis. usually about ½ mile but occasionally dropping to less than 50m. Remember the old days when doing this by dead reckoning would have been exciting, even foolhardy? Then came Decca, and then GPS, and it all became easier, especially if radar was added to the armoury. Now the C-Map digital chart on the laptop on the chart table was faithfully plotting our every move. Dare I suggest that most of the frisson has gone? No longer is the navigator ‘king’ – “shush, the navigator’s listening for his null!” Now even the tidal flow is shown, and it was duly shown to be taking us quickly north up the Chenal de Four. There wasn’t even an essential need to find the transits that took us from the Chenal through the narrow Chenal des Laz due west towards Ile Molène. This island lies about 5 miles SE of Ile d’Ouessant (Ushant to you and me of course). I had chosen to go there as a starting point for my Channel crossing because its harbour faces north and strong SW winds were forecast. We rounded the rocky peninsular that stretches a mile to the north of the harbour and took a Visitors’ Mooring (VM) as close to the shore as I could get. There was only one other yacht there. It was calm and peaceful.
I had a quiet evening on board and a good long sleep. Next morning I rang home to get Ann to look up a long range forecast on the Internet. (What if we could have done THAT in the old days!) She consulted with James N and others, and the weight of opinion was that I should stay where I was for at least another 24 hours. The midday UK forecast spoke of Plymouth SW Force 6-7. There was a ‘Low’ tracking northeast across NI to Scotland. I launched the RIB, rowed ashore and walked around the island – it took only 50 minutes. The excellent ‘8 à Huit’ shop (that serves the mere 300 inhabitants) provided me with bread and milk. I had a quick explore of the fascinating little village before rowing back to the boat just as the heavens opened. The 18.00 forecast said exactly the same as had the midday forecast. I took the view that the Met Office was being idle, as surely the weather would be moving northwards with the Low? I made myself a large supper and took a couple of Stugeron pills with it. Frankly I was getting bored and I’m always aware of harbour-itis - where one becomes loath to move while the weather looks anything but idyllic! In my wisdom (!) I felt that the forecasters had probably got it wrong and I decided to set off.
We had been down to northern Spain and taken part in the ICC’s Basque Rally - and very good it was. We had flown to Iceland to join James N (ICC) on the RCC’s Lord Dufferin ‘Meet’ - and very good that was too. We had spent all of August slowly cruising north up the Biscay coast of Brittany with various guests aboard. Now I simply had to get Faustina II home.
Ann flew home from Brest via Paris on 31 Aug. I had to wait another day in the ‘Moulin Blanc’ marina in Brest until a large tear that I had made in our RIB had been professionally repaired. The RIB was returned on Fri 1 Sep and half an hour later at 11.30 we (Faustina II and I) slipped. 10 minutes later we were alongside again – I had stopped in the marina to lift the fenders but inadvertently left the engine running very gently in reverse and backed into a small French yacht. Fortunately the very small scratch I inflicted was as nothing compared with the mess the boat was already in. The owner was away so I left a note, which a Belgian couple translated into French for me – and we were away again.
The wind this year had been nothing if not consistent. It had always been on the nose wherever we went – and so it was now. With one reef in the Main (which I usually keep in whenever I am sailing solo as that is the only one that I have to go on deck to put in) we (the boat and I) motored our way west through the Rade de Brest, past Camaret over to port, and on to the Chenal de Four. It was rather foggy with vis. usually about ½ mile but occasionally dropping to less than 50m. Remember the old days when doing this by dead reckoning would have been exciting, even foolhardy? Then came Decca, and then GPS, and it all became easier, especially if radar was added to the armoury. Now the C-Map digital chart on the laptop on the chart table was faithfully plotting our every move. Dare I suggest that most of the frisson has gone? No longer is the navigator ‘king’ – “shush, the navigator’s listening for his null!” Now even the tidal flow is shown, and it was duly shown to be taking us quickly north up the Chenal de Four. There wasn’t even an essential need to find the transits that took us from the Chenal through the narrow Chenal des Laz due west towards Ile Molène. This island lies about 5 miles SE of Ile d’Ouessant (Ushant to you and me of course). I had chosen to go there as a starting point for my Channel crossing because its harbour faces north and strong SW winds were forecast. We rounded the rocky peninsular that stretches a mile to the north of the harbour and took a Visitors’ Mooring (VM) as close to the shore as I could get. There was only one other yacht there. It was calm and peaceful.
I had a quiet evening on board and a good long sleep. Next morning I rang home to get Ann to look up a long range forecast on the Internet. (What if we could have done THAT in the old days!) She consulted with James N and others, and the weight of opinion was that I should stay where I was for at least another 24 hours. The midday UK forecast spoke of Plymouth SW Force 6-7. There was a ‘Low’ tracking northeast across NI to Scotland. I launched the RIB, rowed ashore and walked around the island – it took only 50 minutes. The excellent ‘8 à Huit’ shop (that serves the mere 300 inhabitants) provided me with bread and milk. I had a quick explore of the fascinating little village before rowing back to the boat just as the heavens opened. The 18.00 forecast said exactly the same as had the midday forecast. I took the view that the Met Office was being idle, as surely the weather would be moving northwards with the Low? I made myself a large supper and took a couple of Stugeron pills with it. Frankly I was getting bored and I’m always aware of harbour-itis - where one becomes loath to move while the weather looks anything but idyllic! In my wisdom (!) I felt that the forecasters had probably got it wrong and I decided to set off.
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We slipped at 19.45 in visibility of less than 400m. The wind was southwest about force 3. Once clear of the close-by rocks I set the yankee and staysail but left the reef in the main - and we were away in grand style. Only 110 miles to the Isles of Scilly to the northwest with a nice beam wind - happiness! I called the Falmouth CG with a TX - he asked (with a suggestion of anxiety in his voice) whether I had heard the latest forecast. I said that I had, but he read it to me anyway! After about an hour we came out from behind the shelter of Ushant and the wind went up to force 5 and the waves got much bigger. I did consider turning around and going back to my safe warm hole at Molène but the wind was fair and I was making good speed. Faustina II is a Bowman 40 and these conditions are just her style. She was enjoying it, all the more so once I had taken in the staysail and added another reef to the main. On the other hand I was beginning to feel seasick. Comprehensively sick! A little while later I saw that the main wasn’t setting properly,and realised that the leech reef-line had come adrift from the boom. I had to climb up on to the deck to refasten it, a job that turned out to easier than I had feared. By nightfall the wind had increased to force 6 at least, and I had added the third reef to the main and taken in half of the yankee - all without any discernable loss of speed. I was sick over the side - comprehensively so. All my nice supper went for the fishes. Presumably the Stugeron pills too, for all the use they had been. The next six hours were not a lot of fun! The boat was happy, bounding along full of the joys of sailing, responding to the autopilot accurately and quickly. Despite the wave size she kept remarkably dry. We cleared the northeast end of the Ushant separation lanes. I wasn’t so happy - I kept being sick off and on for hours. I was nevertheless still able to manage the boat and to keep a good watch. The fog had cleared a bit, but the main lookout was by still radar, in order to see the ships coming up and down the Channel. Several ships appeared on screen, and at least one changed course to avoid me. Very comforting! Thank goodness it wasn’t too cold, and it wasn’t ’til after midnight that I changed and put on a warm shirt and fleece under my waterproofs. I made myself some tea, drank some water and ate a banana slowly. All that came up again quite soon.
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By 04.00 I was pretty low. I was of course tired but that was to be expected. I’m not nearly as young and resilient as I was! With the seasickness added I was in poor condition. The wind was SW 25 knots gusting to 30 apparent - not so very much, but the waves and the swell were quite big. Incidentally the waves, whilst being big and breaking, also laid on a wonderful display of phosphorescence for me as I sat in the cockpit in the shelter of the spray hood - so much so that a breaking wave in the distance often made me think that a ship was coming.
I considered the risks involved of heaving-to for a rest and concluded that they were minimal. We were well out of the shipping lanes and, as it was Sunday morning, most if not all the fishing boats would be at home. I heaved-to and lay down in the wonderfully cosy cabin and promptly fell asleep. I woke an hour later at 05.00 and thought, ‘That’s lovely, I’ll have some more’, and fell asleep again. I awoke at dawn. A combination of sail and tide had taken us 5 miles to the east while I slept.
We got back on course. The weather was much as it had been but I was now feeling fine. By about 08.00 the wind began to back a little and reduce to Force 4-5. I let out the Yankee and then got myself something to eat. A banana, a peach, some orange juice and then a cuppa. They all stayed down! At midday the sun came out. I imagine it’s rather how women feel when they give birth and then hold their baby – the pain was all forgotten in the sheer pleasure of a lovely day with a fair breeze and the destination not far over the horizon. I shook out the reefs in the Main and reduced the layers of my clothing. By mid-afternoon I was really hungry and I cooked up half of a large Corned Beef Hash that I had made in Brest before leaving. Did food ever taste so good?
We reached Hugh Town in the Isles of Scilly at 16.30 and took a VM near the harbour. I sent Ann an SMS, radioed Falmouth CG to conclude my TR, tidied up, had a shower and made a supper of chicken breasts marinated with olive oil, lemon juice and Mango Chutney (as recommended by Ann). I was in bed by 21.00 and slept very well.
Next morning I made myself a big bacon and egg breakfast (because I was worth it!). There wasn’t much wind and it was murky. I felt in no hurry to do anything much and I didn’t do anything much until 16.00 when I thought that I should use the tide to get over the Flats to Tresco. That would save me several miles when I set off to the north. I took another VM off Hangman Island between Tresco and Bryher - and had a G&T. I had decided to head for Padstow in the morning – and all was well. I was content with my lot. I ate a Fray Bentos Beef and Kidney pie washed down with half a can of peaches (food had been an important element of the day!), and then watched a DVD on the laptop. That completed a satisfactorily lazy day.
Next morning (Tue 5 Sep) I woke at 07.00 to find the boat shrouded in dense fog. C-Map got me safely out to sea to the north where the wind was S Force 2. I raised the Main as a steadier and motored towards the north end of the Land’s End separation lanes and Padstow, 65 miles away. Several ships went past but one seemed to be still heading for us when he was less than a mile away. I called him several times before he moved off behind us. I could just see him at 400m – a small tanker. (While making these calls a disembodied voice had announced that, ‘you shouldn’t be out in the fog’!!) The wind freshened a little and I was able to use the Yankee and reduce engine revs. At midday the fog dispersed, the sun came out through high clouds and I could see the North Devon coast between 5 and 10 miles to the south. I had actually never intended to call into Padstow but rather to anchor in Padstow Bay a few miles north of the estuary. Having reached the area I thought what a nice day it was and why didn’t I just go on to Milford Haven? So that’s what I did. We altered course and set off to go the extra 67 miles. The wind was now SSW Force 4 and we were having a good sail – a rare occurrence this year. We reached The Dale in Milford Haven estuary and anchored there at 03.20.
I was up again at 08.00 to get the west-going tide along the coast and NNW past ‘The Bishops and Clerks’ islands and to get a flying start for the 76 miles to Arklow, my next destination. The weather was awful now, foggy with a really penetrating drizzle, but at least the wind was a useful SW about Force 3. I used the engine on low revs to keep up a good speed. The wind was forecast to go to NW during the day but happily it didn’t. Again the sun came out during the afternoon but the wind died and by 17.00 it was dead calm and the sea looked oily smooth. We reached Arklow at 21.30 as the wind finally began to pick up from the NW. We entered the harbour and nosed into the marina where the reception pontoon was empty and clearly waiting just for us!
I slept well until 05.00 when we slipped and made our way carefully out of the harbour. It was LW and we were in the middle of some extra large Spring tides. I’ve never seen Arklow look so empty of water. I felt that I was lucky not to ground on the way out. We had a nice NW wind and made 9 kts or better over the ground as the tide turned with us. However the waves were getting bigger and steeper as the wind-over-tide increased. I had to motor/sail to make way through the water. I called the waves ‘boisterous’ in my log. They were very ‘wet’ as wave after wave came straight over the bow. Some of it got under the RIB lashed on the bow and through an open dorade vent and made quite a lot of salt wet in the forepeak. Nevertheless the tide swept us quickly northwards towards Dublin Bay. We were tacking now. My last tack before starting the engine was from North Kish, across the Burford Bank, right in to near the Dublin harbour entrance. The tide had changed and so from there I had to struggle hard to get past Howth to reach Lambay Island. At 13.30 I anchored on the SW corner of the island in Talbot Bay in wonderful warm sunshine. Later I moved a few hundred metres to the east before settling down for the night.
The last day of the voyage started at 04.30 so that I could use the big tide to get me well on the way to the north. I went around the inside of Lambay I. in the dark (a bit scary!) and made a course to leave Rockabill a mile or so to port. The huge full moon was setting about 20 degrees above my port quarter, a magical sight. Later, as the moon set, the very welcome sun rose over the starboard bow. There wasn’t much wind and so we motored on with the Main up to keep us steady. Later a cool slight east wind encouraged me to deploy the Yankee, but it didn’t do much to help. I spent several hours cleaning the boat and putting wet clothes from the bow out to dry. Several fishing boats made to intercept us as we neared Ardglass (a game they seem to love to play) but we reached Strangford Bar safely at 12.30. We were sluiced up the Narrows, reaching over 13 kts without trying, and moored in the marina at Portaferry at 13.00.
Home – alone. I expect that I’m just trying to prove to myself that I can still do it. Actually of course the boat does most of the work, bless her! Despite the unpleasant Channel crossing (and of course I should have had more faith in the Met Office), I had once again enjoyed a bit of my own company. It had been another small adventure. I CAN still do it, but I was glad to be home.
I considered the risks involved of heaving-to for a rest and concluded that they were minimal. We were well out of the shipping lanes and, as it was Sunday morning, most if not all the fishing boats would be at home. I heaved-to and lay down in the wonderfully cosy cabin and promptly fell asleep. I woke an hour later at 05.00 and thought, ‘That’s lovely, I’ll have some more’, and fell asleep again. I awoke at dawn. A combination of sail and tide had taken us 5 miles to the east while I slept.
We got back on course. The weather was much as it had been but I was now feeling fine. By about 08.00 the wind began to back a little and reduce to Force 4-5. I let out the Yankee and then got myself something to eat. A banana, a peach, some orange juice and then a cuppa. They all stayed down! At midday the sun came out. I imagine it’s rather how women feel when they give birth and then hold their baby – the pain was all forgotten in the sheer pleasure of a lovely day with a fair breeze and the destination not far over the horizon. I shook out the reefs in the Main and reduced the layers of my clothing. By mid-afternoon I was really hungry and I cooked up half of a large Corned Beef Hash that I had made in Brest before leaving. Did food ever taste so good?
We reached Hugh Town in the Isles of Scilly at 16.30 and took a VM near the harbour. I sent Ann an SMS, radioed Falmouth CG to conclude my TR, tidied up, had a shower and made a supper of chicken breasts marinated with olive oil, lemon juice and Mango Chutney (as recommended by Ann). I was in bed by 21.00 and slept very well.
Next morning I made myself a big bacon and egg breakfast (because I was worth it!). There wasn’t much wind and it was murky. I felt in no hurry to do anything much and I didn’t do anything much until 16.00 when I thought that I should use the tide to get over the Flats to Tresco. That would save me several miles when I set off to the north. I took another VM off Hangman Island between Tresco and Bryher - and had a G&T. I had decided to head for Padstow in the morning – and all was well. I was content with my lot. I ate a Fray Bentos Beef and Kidney pie washed down with half a can of peaches (food had been an important element of the day!), and then watched a DVD on the laptop. That completed a satisfactorily lazy day.
Next morning (Tue 5 Sep) I woke at 07.00 to find the boat shrouded in dense fog. C-Map got me safely out to sea to the north where the wind was S Force 2. I raised the Main as a steadier and motored towards the north end of the Land’s End separation lanes and Padstow, 65 miles away. Several ships went past but one seemed to be still heading for us when he was less than a mile away. I called him several times before he moved off behind us. I could just see him at 400m – a small tanker. (While making these calls a disembodied voice had announced that, ‘you shouldn’t be out in the fog’!!) The wind freshened a little and I was able to use the Yankee and reduce engine revs. At midday the fog dispersed, the sun came out through high clouds and I could see the North Devon coast between 5 and 10 miles to the south. I had actually never intended to call into Padstow but rather to anchor in Padstow Bay a few miles north of the estuary. Having reached the area I thought what a nice day it was and why didn’t I just go on to Milford Haven? So that’s what I did. We altered course and set off to go the extra 67 miles. The wind was now SSW Force 4 and we were having a good sail – a rare occurrence this year. We reached The Dale in Milford Haven estuary and anchored there at 03.20.
I was up again at 08.00 to get the west-going tide along the coast and NNW past ‘The Bishops and Clerks’ islands and to get a flying start for the 76 miles to Arklow, my next destination. The weather was awful now, foggy with a really penetrating drizzle, but at least the wind was a useful SW about Force 3. I used the engine on low revs to keep up a good speed. The wind was forecast to go to NW during the day but happily it didn’t. Again the sun came out during the afternoon but the wind died and by 17.00 it was dead calm and the sea looked oily smooth. We reached Arklow at 21.30 as the wind finally began to pick up from the NW. We entered the harbour and nosed into the marina where the reception pontoon was empty and clearly waiting just for us!
I slept well until 05.00 when we slipped and made our way carefully out of the harbour. It was LW and we were in the middle of some extra large Spring tides. I’ve never seen Arklow look so empty of water. I felt that I was lucky not to ground on the way out. We had a nice NW wind and made 9 kts or better over the ground as the tide turned with us. However the waves were getting bigger and steeper as the wind-over-tide increased. I had to motor/sail to make way through the water. I called the waves ‘boisterous’ in my log. They were very ‘wet’ as wave after wave came straight over the bow. Some of it got under the RIB lashed on the bow and through an open dorade vent and made quite a lot of salt wet in the forepeak. Nevertheless the tide swept us quickly northwards towards Dublin Bay. We were tacking now. My last tack before starting the engine was from North Kish, across the Burford Bank, right in to near the Dublin harbour entrance. The tide had changed and so from there I had to struggle hard to get past Howth to reach Lambay Island. At 13.30 I anchored on the SW corner of the island in Talbot Bay in wonderful warm sunshine. Later I moved a few hundred metres to the east before settling down for the night.
The last day of the voyage started at 04.30 so that I could use the big tide to get me well on the way to the north. I went around the inside of Lambay I. in the dark (a bit scary!) and made a course to leave Rockabill a mile or so to port. The huge full moon was setting about 20 degrees above my port quarter, a magical sight. Later, as the moon set, the very welcome sun rose over the starboard bow. There wasn’t much wind and so we motored on with the Main up to keep us steady. Later a cool slight east wind encouraged me to deploy the Yankee, but it didn’t do much to help. I spent several hours cleaning the boat and putting wet clothes from the bow out to dry. Several fishing boats made to intercept us as we neared Ardglass (a game they seem to love to play) but we reached Strangford Bar safely at 12.30. We were sluiced up the Narrows, reaching over 13 kts without trying, and moored in the marina at Portaferry at 13.00.
Home – alone. I expect that I’m just trying to prove to myself that I can still do it. Actually of course the boat does most of the work, bless her! Despite the unpleasant Channel crossing (and of course I should have had more faith in the Met Office), I had once again enjoyed a bit of my own company. It had been another small adventure. I CAN still do it, but I was glad to be home.
