Finally, they got rid of me – even Craig the marina manager came down at 07.30am to ensure I really was going to leave the Isle of Man. As I set off across the harbour, I felt a great sense of freedom to be sailing once again. Of course being me, it wasn’t without some mishap – only a small one, I managed to knock one of the fenders into the water as I was sorting all the lines out. Fortunately it was an old knackered, deflated one – I reckon Douglas Harbour will find a use for it.
The tide is always an important factor but never more so than when you have minimal wind and a fairly small engine; best to go with it. This then decided which way I was going to get round to the west of the Isle of Man. I headed for the Calf of Man to the south, this is a little island with a narrow sound between it and the mainland. On such a calm, flat day, the narrow sound presented no problems. What did present a problem was the total lack of wind – this meant that I was likely to need to use my engine for a very long way until the wind kicked in as forecast in the evening. Having run out of fuel once, I was very nervous about doing it again and so I decided I would monitor the tank carefully by dipping it with cut strips off the packet of porridge oats. I also gave myself up to the fact that it was going to be a very long day and ran the engine at fairly low revs for fuel efficiency.
Half-full
I won’t bore you with the rest of the day, suffice to say it went on a bit. I took time to make myself a healthy lunch of tuna and butter bean salad, and then a piece of cake at tea time, ‘cheddars’ and wine at 6.00pm (well 5.30pm) and then a very nice dinner of corned beef hash (with mandatory hot chilli sauce). By the time I had made coffee with a slug of rum in it at 8.00pm the wind had started to strengthen and I could give the engine a rest at 8.30pm.
At maximum speeds of 7.5 knots – a bit of a contrast with the pedestrian day so far, the final destination was soon in sight. I was finally all tucked up at 01.40am in Bangor – another country in the United Kingdom visited! Unfortunately there is not enough time for an Ulster fry in the morning – I’m off to Scotland.
Thursday morning was an early start, HW was at 7.30am and I wanted to get Vela moved out of her pontoon to the lifting berth before the depth in the marina started to reduce. Craig and Mark the lovely marina staff were there at the berth as I reversed in between two fishing boats (yes, it was a cool manoeuvre!), and took my long lines from me as I was about 3 metres below the Quayside. I then waited until Steve Carter and his crew turned up and revved up Lorain. Large strops were passed under Vela fore and aft and attached to hooks on chains hanging down from the arm of the crane. At this point I had to leave Vela to her fate and climbed up the ladder to the quay to be given a hard hat and Hi-Viz jacket – no doubt so that I could be easily seen if someone dropped Vela on me!
Vela was gracefully lifted out and placed delicately on her fin keel, Dean from Bottomline arrived and hopped aboard to cut the hole in the hull for the new sensor and fit the electronics. I repaired to my favourite breakfast haunt – the Market Hall – a trendy cycle shop with a Noa Bakehouse and great WiFI! Three hours later the job was done and Vela placed back in the water. Like most boat owners – I anxiously waited for the gushing of gallons of water from the fore cabin if the hole had not been properly sealed, but there was nary a drop. And I had a great new instrument with the depth and boat speed clearly shown. A few final niceties such as the eye-watering invoice being placed in my sweaty hand, and a handshake and I could devote the rest of my afternoon to putting everything back on the boat and a Clarins Facial (the cost of a facial is nothing when you’ve dug deep for sophisticated gadgetry). The girls in the salon took pity on my leathery, tanned face and they gave me lots of free creams to undo the damage!
Passage planning blockage
I’ve found that whenever I have stayed anywhere for more than 2 days, I really lose my momentum, the rhythm of knowing the wind direction/strength/tides etc seems to get interrupted. After nearly 4 days I was feeling immensely frustrated by my lack of progress and was eager to get to Scotland by the end of the weekend. The weather over the next few days is changeable with strong easterlies and then no wind and then what looked like F7s next week. Not helpful! There are many more considerations as I go further north – larger distances between ports, fewer marinas with all-tide access and more harbours that are just plain tricky. The following questions swill around my brain in the early hours:
Can I get into the narrow entrance to Portpatrick Harbour in a westerly wind without double strength incontinence pants?
Will I really be crushed on the rocks because I’m on a dangerous lee shore and the wind was stronger than I can handle?
Do I have enough Gin on board?
These are the same questions for any sailor to find answers to; but for the single-hander the answers are your sole responsibility, you can look at all the advice you are given but it’s often conflicting and anyway you’re the only one who’s going to pay the price for any cock-up. Some times that feels like more of a burden than others. The fact that I’m now running behind does add some pressure and I decided that the wind on Friday, although strong, was manageable. I went to bed with the intention of slipping out as early as I could after getting some more fuel (which involved a mile and a half walk with three 5 litre cans of diesel – don’t mess with me, I can now win arm wrestling matches!). By 7.30am I was ready to go, I booked the bridge lift for 7.45am and left the marina.
Ta Dah!
The feckless lad Cameron
Bloody technology!
As I came out of the shelter of the marina, I remembered that I had a shiny new depth gauge to look at and removed the cover to find…..yup, you guessed it – no reading!! There was a signal getting to the system because it displayed my speed but no depth. Feeling extremely pissed off, I went alongside the visitor pontoon in the harbour, where boats wait for the bridge openings, and called Dean, the engineer. I could see my day’s plan just melting away. Craig the Marina Manager drove out to find me and check I was ok (he is the nicest person). He said that I might want to take a look at the sea state outside the outer harbour, which I did. It didn’t look good, you could see white crests on the water far out to the east, the wind was obviously much stronger than I had anticipated. Resigned to yet another day of waiting around, I returned to the marina to await Dean.
By 10.30am, I had a cup of coffee in my hand and an embarrassed electronic engineer on the boat. A long phone call to B&G diagnosed a software problem – apparently the chart plotter wasn’t able to talk to the depth sensor without some random, incomprehensible, unknowable tick box having been checked. Well, at least Dean was apologetic that he hadn’t checked it was all communicating the day before, and he didn’t have to replace any parts – he was very helpful all in all.
Chuff Chuff!
Chuff chuff!
I thought I had exhausted the delights of the Isle of Man; but no, I hadn’t yet been on the narrow gauge Steam Railway to Port Erin! 50 minutes rattling through the beautiful countryside and sunshine started to chip away at my really, really foul mood,. The first proper bad mood I’ve had on this trip, I suspect I may also have been feeling a tad ‘homesick’. After lunch I walked a bit of the coastal path halfway to the Calf of Man which is a little island just off the south coast. Looking back at Port Erin, there were some really stunning views of the harbour which has a ruined breakwater; every time they build one, the prevailing westerlies just pound it down. That’s nature for you – unstoppable and relentless!
Hopefully nature will cooperate tomorrow and I will finally leave the Manx people to their mysterious three legged flag. Destination Northern Ireland!
Douglas Marina is brilliantly situated for bars, restaurants and pubs – this has blown my resolution to cook for myself – it’s not the cooking that bothers me – it’s the washing up in a bucket afterwards because the sink is so small! Since arriving on Monday I’ve been out for breakfast and dinner every day.
Actually its not so much the food but the free WiFi that I am trying to track down. The Marina lacks WiFi; it does however boast a shower room that makes you think you are in some kind of penal institution! But it’s home for me probably until Saturday which is pretty frustrating; and the staff there couldn’t be more helpful.
4* Luxury Facilities
Essential Maintenance
Sadly the depth sensor which has been in the boat for some 30-40 years has finally died on me. We knew it would happen one day, but have been optimistically nursing it along hoping that it would survive the trip. Sadly, negotiating the islands and anchorages as I go further north without a functioning depth reading isn’t ideal. So with involuntary grinding of teeth but secret excitement at the purchase of a new toy, we’ve made the decision to replace the instruments with a state of the art B&G depth, speed and temperature display and sensor.
The first hurdle is getting Vela out of the water – this will be done by Lorain – a crane on the quay that was manufactured in 1964. I’m assured by the man that runs her that she lifts out boats much, much bigger than Vela on a regular basis. Captain Steve Carter the man in question is a big cheese in the Harbour operations in these parts – he’s a retired tug boat captain, a harbour pilot and runs the crane as well has having his fingers in multiple other Manx pies I shouldn’t wonder.
Captain Stephen Carter
Lorain the Crane
Having sorted out the lift out, we found a company which had the parts in stock and can fit this new wonder gadget this week. Once everything was booked and confirmed I really enjoyed ripping out all the old wiring and instruments and Vela is now a blank canvas ready for tomorrow’s work to commence at 07.00am.
My own personal TT
With all this time on my hands I thought I’d have a bit of a look around. Tuesday was taken up with harbour admin like doing washing and an inventory of stores (running low on liquorice all sorts!). I also started to look for my next job in earnest – there’s nothing like a new gadget on the boat to concentrate your mind on where your next pay packet it coming from! But having done all that I decided on a bit of tourism; I hired an electric bike (only option on offer – not me being lazy) and set off to visit Peel Harbour – the only way I’m going to see it as I won’t be sailing around there now.
Part of the route to Peel is the same as the TT race – Greeba Bridge is a notorious bend and the bridge itself still carries the padding from the TT race that took place earlier this month. Only some of the cycle route is on the main A1 road, most of it follows the old Douglas to Peel steam railway line and is a really lovely cycle. I’ve never used an electric bike before and it’s great for getting up some of the hilly parts of the island – the trouble is the bike is so heavy that you need to use the motor just to get it moving!
Peel was spectacular today – the sunshine lit up the Castle and I had a very nice ice cream on the front. I find it a bit dislocating to view harbours from the land when most of the time I’m negotiating their hazards from the sea; I know that by the end of this week I shall be champing at the bit to get back out there and catch up on some sea miles. The next instalment will reveal whether Lorain and Vela played nicely together and whether the new depth instrument and sensor is the bee’s knees!
The Menai Straits is spectacular – it’s the stretch of water that renders Anglesey an island and can only be crossed by rail on the Britannia Bridge, designed and built by Robert Stephenson of ‘Stephenson’s Rocket’ and other railway marvels; and by car over the Menai Suspension Bridge, designed and built by Thomas Telford. These are iconic pieces of civil engineering but they also stand as sentinels to a notorious stretch of fast flowing, rock strewn water about a mile long called the ‘Swellies”.
Once again, pilot books and guides quote dire consequences to mariners who don’t obey the various times and routes through this stretch and I was frankly considering bottling it and going up to Holyhead. Fortunately a friend who knows me well told me in so many words to get a grip because I would regret not seeing it.
It was Mark the Dockmaster at Victoria Dock who gave me the best advice on what time to cross the start line at Britannia Bridge. The issue is the effect that two bodies of water at either end of the straits have on each other. You want to carry enough favourable tide eastbound to get you through the Swellies and not be stopped dead in the water by the tide coming the other way from Beaumaris; but not have too much tide that would risk a small boat being swept through out of control and ricocheting off rocks like a pinball.
As I drew nearer to Britannia Bridge, I was relieved to see lots of other yachts also about to go through. One of them went past me shouting, “Is this your first time through the Swellies? Follow us if you like and enjoy it!” . Lee and Joy of the good yacht ‘Why Not?” duly led me through, I religiously followed their wake and it was actually a very calm and stately affair. There was ample time without any stress to look at the amazing scenery around and appreciate the moment.
Going under Britannia Bridge
The amazing Menai Suspension Bridge
Through the Swellies!
Once through, my target was using the tide to get me through Puffin Sound northwards to the top of Anglesey where I had decided to anchor in a little cove tucked behind Point Lynas. I did consider going all the way to Douglas on the Isle of Man, but the forecast was miserable with a risk of thunder and lightning. So I had a brisk sail up to Point Lynas and anchored just as it was starting to drizzle – time to get cosy.
Light at Puffin Sound
Maternal guilt and the Maersk Maker!
One of the problems with the anchorage was absolutely no service on my mobile phone, ordinarily not a problem (I have all the episodes of Killing Eve Season 2 downloaded), but I had promised to ring my son Hugh to wish him luck for his first day as a trainee police constable with the Met – no mean achievement, and I knew he would be nervous. Maternal guilt went into overdrive – call myself a mother? Swanning about enjoying myself like some beach bum, having abandoned all responsibilities – the shame! This incident would just be added to the list of times when my mothering had been found wanting – the tearing up of Jamie’s “Karate Princess” book, the garage door incident (Hugh’s head has never been the same since), the ‘nobody puts Baby in the corner’ leap (Hugh’s head has never been the same since), the frozen and burnt sausages for Jamie’s supper incident – “Sorry Auntie Nicky, but Mum isn’t in a fit state to come to the phone right now”!
I sat and thought about what to do. I eyed the VHF radio – I should think asking the National Coastguard to pass on a message would be distinctly frowned upon. But I did remember seeing a large ship at anchor as I came around Point Lynas. The AIS on our chart plotter gave me all the details of the Maersk Maker and so I made a ship to ship call. Using my best voice procedure I begged their radio operator to text Hugh to wish him luck and to send him my love – OVER. The very obliging Dutchman on the other end assured me that it was no problem. When I managed to get through to Hugh the next day, he said he had indeed received the text from the Maersk!
The Maersk Maker
Despite the very nice vegetable chilli I made myself and a few glasses of red wine, it was a cold, wet and blustery night in the anchorage with lots of rocking and creaking to keep me awake. I was actually grateful to get up and make tea at 04.30am. As I was pulling up the anchor I discovered that the movement of the boat in the night had allowed the anchor line to get wrapped around a buoy in the bay which I had tried to stay clear of. This took some time to untangle and so I finally departed northwards at 5.45am
The big push offshore
I was really excited to be pushing on northwards to the Isle of Man. I’ve never been there and so I’m looking forward to a few days of walking and exploring and to see whether people really do have three legs or not. I reckoned the trip would take me around 11 hours – 48 miles at an average of 4 knots. The wind was fairly insubstantial so I resolved to motor sail in order to hit the pace I had set myself. This would ensure entry into Douglas Marina which lies behind a sill and lifting bridge only open 2 hours either side of high tide. The bridge also is closed for 90 mins over ‘rush hour’ from 4.45pm – I can only imagine what constitutes rush hour on the Isle of Man….
I was pretty pleased with the plan, it was all going well, the sea state was pleasant, I was maintaining the average speed and the only bit of excitement was a tack to avoid a tanker coming across my path. I had a fair number of timed dozes on deck and sang along to my rather limited downloaded playlist – some odd songs in there!
I was bang on schedule when suddenly the engine just died! Now this is serious – this is the mighty Yanmar 1GM10 – it sounds like a sewing machine but in fact it’s a fantastically reliable piece of engineering. No alarm sounded so it wasn’t overheating, it just died. A horrible thought crossed my mind – had my bottomless fuel tank, the one that hardly ever needs filling up – actually run out of fuel? Although I had refuelled in Caernarfon, I had motored through the Straits and I had spent much of the day motor sailing to hit the tidal gate in Douglas. I did what anyone would do in these situations – fill up the tank with the 5 litre can, and try and restart the engine. The Yanmar coughed but there was no spark of life.
Next action – phone a friend! He obligingly pointed out that there were probably now air bubbles in the system which I would need to ‘bleed’ in order to get fuel through. A Youtube clip came over the ether shortly after, followed by the terse instruction “watch from 3.35 minutes onwards – how to bleed the fuel system”.
Say what you want about Youtube – it can get you out of most scrapes if you have phone signal! With the bubbles out of the system, the engine sprang back into service and I gunned it to try and make up the time lost. I got to the bridge with literally seconds to spare. I think the Harbour Master saw me struggling in against the tide and took pity on me. Manx folk may have pointy heads and webbed fingers – but Douglas people get my vote!
When the sun came up in Porthdinllaen, it was finally the perfect temperature for summer. I dug deep in my clothes bucket, through the soft-shell jackets, fleeces and thermal base layers and pulled out my bikini! I was determined to wear it – I desperately need to even up my tan – hands and face like David Dickinson and a pasty body – here was my first chance. Needless to say by the time I had weighed anchor and proceeded the very short distance up the coast towards Caernarfon, it was distinctly shivery, it didn’t take long for the fleece to come back out.
My first and only sailing hurdle of the day was to navigate Caernarfon Bar. Normally the word ‘Bar’ would light my face up as I contemplate which cocktail I’m going to order; but in sailing terms, a bar is always an obstacle with time and tide constraints and terrible consequences of failure – shipwreck at one end of the scale and acute public humiliation at the other. Caernarfon must be approached 3 hours either side of high water and the buoys must be carefully followed as they lead you merry dance through the sands. Fortunately I obeyed to the letter and was through the Fort Belan narrows and viewing the beautiful town of Caernarfon in short order.
Caernarfon is dominated by a medieval castle and walls, part of Edward ‘Longshanks’ of England’s subjugation of the welsh, and really is stunning. Not a friend of devolution – his other nickname was ‘Hammer of the Scots’!
Within a few minutes of berthing in Victoria Dock, I was a mere stroll from a waterside pub where I had a restorative bitter shandy and watched the rowing races put on by the Royal Welsh Yacht Club. With the sunshine out there was a great atmosphere. As luck would have it, another Sadler owner, Geoff Hilditch was motoring his Sadler 29 back into the river moorings after a few weeks away sailing around the Isle of Man. He is very knowledgeable about local waters despite commuting from the Wirral to sail in Wales, and we had a cup of tea and a good chat about likely anchorages and routes for my onward journey.
By mid afternoon, my old school friends Jackie and Ben had arrived and took me back to their cottage in Harlech for a night of comfort. It was strange being driven back around Cardigan Bay past where I had sailed the previous few days. I can’t tell you how lovely it is to be able to scrub off the barnacles, wear relatively smart clothes and sleep in a bed that doesn’t move, in a warm house where condensation from cooking doesn’t drip on your head! Ironically I woke up with a bit of a stiff neck – no doubt from a surfeit of comfort! Jackie and Ben deposited me back on Vela by ten the next morning ready for the next phase – through the Menai Straits and the notorious Swellies! Thanks you two for a really fabulous ‘liberty’ break.
As many of you know who follow the blog – early mornings and I do not generally combine well, however today I was about to do what David Rainsbury describes as a ‘Fearsome Passage’ in his book for sailors, of the same name. Bardsey Sound forms a narrow gap between the end of the Lleyn Peninsula and Bardsey Island where there was once a monastery built by St Cadfan in 516 before it was destroyed by Henry VIII in 1537 in one of his land/money grabs AKA the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It is through this sound that the body of water moving from Cardigan Bay to Caernarfon Bay and back gets squeezed. This creates a forceful flow of water and effects of wind over tide can create choppy turbulent seas and large waves. Timing is everything and getting to the entrance of the Sound at LW Slack will make the difference between a relaxed trip and a white knuckle ride! Today my time was 07.20am. I needed to allow enough time to do the 18 or so nautical miles from Pwllheli and at an average speed of 4 knots so I had to leave at 03.00am.
I was determined to be organised so I cooked my bacon bap the night before and made a flask of tea before leaving so that in the event of a rough passage, I wouldn’t need to go down below to make breakfast. However the conditions were perfect as I nosed out of harbour in the pre-dawn glow of the moon. The wind was from the west and around 12 knots which gave me a speedy run along the northern edge of Cardigan Bay. The sun rose at 04.45am and I was treated to the blush of light spreading around the sky as I went past St Tudwel’s Islands – apparently famous for their seal population although they must have all still been in bed when I sailed past, as I didn’t see any.
St Tudwel’s West Island
Bardsey Island
By that stage the fast and easy section of the journey was over for a bit as I turned the corner into Aberdaron Bay, more commonly know as ‘Hell’s Mouth’! Fortunately for me, Hell’s Mouth appeared to short on teeth today and I was able to tack across the bay only a couple of times before lining up perfectly at the entrance which I made at 07.30am – close enough for the water to be calm and flat and for the passage to be totally un-fearsome. I celebrated with my bacon bap and felt thoroughly pleased with myself.
Decisions, decisions…..
The plan had been to overnight in a lovely bay called Porthdinllaen and then tomorrow go straight up to Holyhead before setting off for the Isle of Man but typically the wind has its own ideas about these things and the forecast for tomorrow was not remotely helpful. So I decided to go back to my original plan to go to Caernarfon and through the Menai Straits and then strike out for the IOM from Conwy; the problem was that having anchored in Porthdinllaen, I had missed today’s ‘gate’ for getting into Caernarfon which was frustrating. I was soon cheered by an invitation to dinner by the neighbouring yacht. I felt a little rubbish turning up with a pack of Hoola Hoops instead of a bottle of wine but that soon passed as I realised I was in the presence of fervent, evangelical church group! I instantly cut back on my alcohol consumption to ensure that I said nothing offensive or unholy! I’m sorry to say that I’m told there is a fantastic pub here – the Ty Coch but I just couldn’t be bothered to row Vicky that far this evening.
So it’s a leisurely start tomorrow to hit the entrance into Caernarfon Bar at 11.10am, have a wander around this medieval town and then meet up with my old school friends Jackie and Ben, who when I told them about my change of destination offered a real bed and bath – fantastic! In the next instalment – across the Bar and through the Menai Straits…
After putting Jamie on the 06.30am train back to London, I contemplated the day ahead – it was pouring with rain, the marina water and electricity were still out of order and my sister Nicky wasn’t due in until 3.30pm. Back to bed! – Tuesday therefore went by in a bit of a haze. The forecast for Wednesday was virtually windless and a bit grey so I decided that a bit of sightseeing locally was preferable to a drizzly motor to Pwllheli.
I’ve found that ‘guest’ crew who aren’t habitual sailors have charmingly high expectations of a few days on a yacht – these mostly consist of lots of G&Ts with ice, bikinis, balmy warm weather and sunny skies; Cardigan Bay in autumnal temperatures muffled with several layers of thermal underwear and gortex doesn’t generally deliver the ‘pleasure rush’ that is hoped for! So having put sailing to one side for the day, we ventured out along the Promenade and followed the Ceredigion Coastal Path to Borth, a small seaside village about 6 miles to the north. This really is a fantastic walk, with rocky dramatic cliffs and undulating hills. Unfortunately I did practically break my sister who has a dodgy hip – I told her it was only a couple of miles; we are only just on speaking terms again.
Borth itself was something of a let down. By 2.30pm we were ravenous and found a café serving beer and egg and chips which was great. Other than that, the place seemed totally dead – kind of like a welsh version of ‘Invasion of the Bodysnatchers’ where aliens have abducted the townsfolk. The few Borthians we came across had strangely awful teeth and looked like they had been stuck in a 1970’s timewarp. However later that evening while in a very trendy Tapas Restaurant/Deli in Aberystwyth called Ultracomida, we met a publican and his wife who ran The Railway Inn in Borth, who assured us that in Apr and May, and July and August, if the sun was shining, Borth was vibrant and came alive with holiday makers! I guess I’ll just have to take their word for it.
Just as it was all going so well….
With our next destination Pwllheli in our sights, we made an early start to get out of Aberystwyth Harbour; there was no wind to speak of but the day looked as though blue sky and sunshine were on the way. Much of it was spent motor sailing, admiring the beautiful rugged coastline where the hills of Snowdonia could be seen and spotting huge shoals/herds? of large jelly fish and hoping for dolphins to come and play. With my depth sensor now useless, I took very great care to avoid the various areas of shallows and sand bars that stick out into Cardigan bay.
Which makes what happened next kind of ironic! Having cleared it with the marina manager that the channel into Pwllheli had 2m of depth – no problem for Vela with her 1.42m draught, I touched bottom a number of times and now I sit here typing, held fast in some rather sticky mud/sand for the next couple of hours until the water levels rise again! As timing goes, running aground at low tide is not the worst thing to happen to a sailor. So the anchor is down, just in case we drift anywhere and Nicky and I have had a piece of Katherine’s marvellous fruit cake, a cup of tea and are contemplating something stronger! Hopefully we will be floating again by 6.45pm and in our berth a little later than planned at 7pm.
I was slightly concerned that my blog was going to be rather boring today so this cock up does actually spice it up nicely! It’s the look of derision from the bloody motor boaters as they come zooming down the channel past us for cocktails that really grips me. One of them was stark naked – I kid you not – he had nothing to smirk about I can assure you!
After dropping Jon off at Fishguard station, I did what any self-respecting sailor does when on a swing mooring or at anchor – find a café with a good internet, plugs for charging multiple devices and patient staff who will put up with you for hours as you wait for the Fishguard Bay Yacht Club showers to open at 6pm. Mannings Grocers (posh Deli) offered everything and I seamlessly switched from tea to white wine halfway through the afternoon. My tenacity was rewarded with a star spotting moment as Jerome Flynn (Paddy Garvey – Soldier, Soldier; and Bronn – Game of Thrones) came in to mooch around the overpriced apples, soya milk and organic lava bread tapenade. Naturally I got in a surreptitious snap but didn’t ask for a selfie or autograph. I did hold the door open for him though as he was encumbered by two heavy, biodegradable, hessian shopping bags for life – he flashed his amazing blue eyes at me in gratitude and my heart gave a little flutter.
Fishguard is well worth a visit, there are some lovely walks along the coast and great views into the harbour and bay.
Fresh Crew
After a stressful brush with public transport which resulted in several near misses (District line not running, GWR train to Swansea cancelled), my eldest son Jamie turned up and climbed the 10 metres down the harbour wall to Vela which I had parked near the RNLI and Stenaline terminal for his arrival. We had lunch and waited for the ferry to Rosleare to clear the Harbour and then set off for New Quay on route to Aberystwyth. It was a really lovely afternoon and a decent SW F3-4 made for a perfect downwind sail all the way to New Quay. I poled out the Genoa and goose-winged the sails and we surfed along at some respectable speeds (8.7knots!!). My land-lubber son turned a slight shade of green with the gentle rolling motion of the sea and got horizontal. And pretty much stayed supine for the remainder of his visit (although he provided much in the way of entertainment value).
Downwind!
To lean on the harbour wall or not to lean – that is the question…
A quick chat with Roy the HM in New Quay established an absence of visitor moorings (out of date info in the pilot book) and he suggested that I could berth alongside the harbour which would dry out through the night. Having never let Vela rest on her fin keel before, I sought advice from the Sadler Owners Facebook Group and got plenty of really useful feedback. Some of it reassured me, some of it terrified me – I didn’t doubt that I could secure Vela to the quayside to stop her falling over the wrong way as the water disappeared, but I was loathe to do some damage to her keel which would scupper my trip. After much deliberation, I decided to use the trusty anchor.
Anchoring was made a little more challenging because my Stowe depth sounder appears to have gone ‘doo-lally’ and will not give me an accurate reading at the moment. I had to do some fag-packet calculations using my position as shown on the electronic chart plotter to understand my depth and calculate how much anchor rode I needed. As we didn’t shift in the night, I guess it’s a technique I can use again.
We rowed Vicky to the shore to give Jamie a few hours on terra firma and to have a walk around New Quay which was lovely. We were treated to this wonderful sunset on our row back to Vela.
Onwards to Aberystwyth
To get over the bar into Aberystwyth Harbour you have to get in between 3 hours before and 3.5 hours after high water. This meant a relatively early start and we weighed anchor at 7am and motored up the coast until the wind picked up and then motor sailed with just the Genoa to reach our destination. Disappointingly the marina’s water tank had catastrophically burst and flooded the facilities which meant that the water and electricity are both out of order until Monday – so no hot shower and no WIFI! I think the words that rang out in my conversation with the Marina manager were “I hope there’ll be a significant rate reduction”!
I was lucky enough to have my next sailing buddy aboard, the co-owner of Vela no less. Obviously there was a good deal of hoovering, and spit and polish that went on prior to him being piped aboard with due ceremony – bleary eyed with exhaustion after the endless train journey to Milford Haven. As soon as we had eaten at a great seafood restaurant Martha’s Vineyard (I can recommend the Seafood Chowder), having taken full advantage of the free stay on the holding pontoon outside Milford Marina, we departed for a short sail to Dale. Once again Vela was moored up on the free pontoon and we started to recheck the calculations for the next day’s sail to Fishguard.
This involves a few decisions about the route, there are two sounds to pass through; Jack Sound that takes you between Skomer Island and the Mainland and then Ramsay Sound which goes between Ramsay Island and the mainland. Both have fast flowing currents and must be approached with caution and at the right state of tide – best at slack water. As we couldn’t make both tidal gates at the times stated, we decided to go around Skomer and be at Ramsay Sound at 12.30pm which was slack water ahead of the north-going tide. What made it challenging today was the wind direction which was – yes you guessed it, coming from the North – exactly where we wanted to go. As you all know I love a good tack but in choppy seas, 25 knot winds and some welsh rain to boot, the morning was sufficiently crap that we genuinely thought we would have to turn back for Milford Haven as we didn’t think we’d make the 12.30 slack water at Ramsay Sound. It probably didn’t help that we were up at 4.40am to get the favourable tide – I’m not a morning person.
By some divine intervention, we managed the tacking sufficiently well to hit the gate and progressed into a very underwhelming and calm Ramsay Sound, the various hazards were clearly visible in the brightening skies. Notable are a set of rocks known as the Bitches which stick out into the Sound and must be avoided. I later found a welsh bitter called ‘The Bitches’ in the pub which clearly had to be sampled!
Going through Ramsay Sound
By 2pm we had mastered all rocky obstacles and only a very lumpy sea was slowing us down as we turned into Cardigan Bay with the tide pushing us along. Eventually we reached Strumble Head Lighthouse, the signal for us that Fishguard was just around the corner. We had reached a great accommodation with Carl Milne, the HM at Fishguard to moor Vela up against the harbour wall by the lifeboat station. However when we got there, there was an unpleasant swell and little Vela had the potential to have the paint scraped off her topsides by the movement against the rough concrete wall despite surrounding her with fenders and a board. The alternative was provided by Paul Butler, the HM of Fishguard Lower Harbour who allocated us a mooring buoy there. As he said, just take the buoy to the north of the ‘Shitstick’ – which is what the locals fondly call the green harbour marker, due to it marking the extremities of the sewage outflow pipe!
Introducing young Vicky!
Clearly if you are on a mooring, you need to get to shore for necessities like a pub which does food! So Vicky was finally pressed into service, I breathed life into her lungs and we got her afloat. A test row soon revealed some deficiencies in my rowing technique and the challenges of buying the smallest dinghy in the shop – basically your knees interfere with your stroke action.
So it was with a feeling of impending doom that we both got in Vicky for our run ashore, with the odd groan from Jon when I unintentionally flicked water down his neck from my cack-handed rowing. The fact that we were rowing through Fishguard’s sewage added a certain spice to the adventure and ensured our mouths remained clamped shut!
After a delicious meal, the 13 hour sail and 4.40am start took its toll and we rowed carefully back in Vicky without incident to the remains of the Red Leg Rum. A tough day but very satisfying to get a further 50 miles further along in the journey.
Given the tiring overnight sail from Padstow on Sat/Sun, I decided that I would take a very leisurely approach to today. I had moored overnight on a pontoon in the middle of Dale Anchorage, this had the advantages of being a. zero cost and b. very quiet! I had a brilliant night’s sleep and woke to some light rain at about 07.30am. As far as I was concerned there was little to get out of bed for and luckily I had downloaded the first series of Killing Eve so I made a cup of tea, snuggled back under the duvet and binge-watched three episodes – It’s SO good!! By 11am I was feeling a bit guilty and needed to formulate a plan – the weather was due to deteriorate the next day with strong winds forecast from the North, I really needed to get myself to somewhere more sheltered to ride out the next few days of Force 7s. I decided to go up the Haven to Neyland Marina which I remembered from 2010 when I had done a sailing week there.
The forecast for the afternoon was windy but good, with lots of sunshine and HW was at 12.40pm. This meant that I would be able to motor Vela up to the village pontoon and walk ashore to Dale Village for some lunch and a wander around before leaving for Neyland later on. When I say that I walked around Dale Village, I mean that it took approximately 3 mins to make a tour of the streets. I went to the Griffin Inn for lunch – everyone else was chowing down on amazing looking Lobster but conscious of my budget after my extravagance in Padstow, I ordered a ‘Super Salad’ for a tenner. When it came it was neither super nor worth a tenner so I’m very glad I plugged in my laptop and phone and made the most of the pub’s electricity!
As the water levels in the bay started to drop with the ebb, I set off for the 9 mile trip up to Neyland. I was going against the tide but the wind was strong and across my beam and so it was a very enjoyable steady sail at an average of 4 knots past the tankers, cranes and industry of Milford Haven and Pembroke Dock. There was a slightly emotional moment on entering my allotted berth with both the wind and tide pushing Vela off the pontoon and towards a glamorous motor boat to my left! A bit of flappage with the lines and a very helpful marina bloke, prevented an expensive bump and I was able to close down for the day! Now to hunker down and keep dry until sailing resumes, hopefully on Thursday.
Ma, I would like to point out that I haven’t mentioned alcohol in this post!
Vela Tour of Britain 2019 