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One of the pleasures of my stay in Padstow was to meet up with a friend from work and his family. Tom, Helen and their children Ben and Bryher live in St Mawgan and Tom is a keen sailor. We have had multiple chats at work about the trip I’ve been planning and he indicated that he would be happy to come along for one of the longer legs. I quickly identified that the 70 miles from Padstow to Milford Haven would be much better enjoyed with a friend so he was co-opted onto the ‘guest’ crew list. In return I was asked to do a talk about my trip to Helen’s Year Two class at Trevisker for World Oceans Day. The kids were hilarious, all keenly asking deeply searching questions like, ‘Do you have Netflix on your boat?”. They were very receptive and I really enjoyed showing them Ollie the Octopus and Blanket Bunny – two stowaways integral to the success of the voyage.

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Having decided weatherwise that Saturday night was the departure date for the Milford Haven passage, I had time in the pouring rain to take a look at my engine water pump which seemed to be squirting more droplets of water out than was strictly reasonable. A consultation with the Sadler Owners Facebook Group revealed a consensus that the problem was due to old, worn seals in the back of the pump. I did what any self-respecting DIY aficionado does these days – I went onto You Tube and found a video showing me how to replace the offending items.

As I’ve said, Tom and Helen were the perfect hosts, not only did they lend me an iron so that I could start drying some of the books that had got soggy in a ‘dry’ locker but I also did my washing and spread lots of engine parts over their dining room table and hammered and swore until the job was done and the water pump put back together. Such a lovely family.

Feeling special on Saturday

This year the Queen celebrated her official birthday on the 8 Jun, which is the same day as my mother’s unofficial birthday. I was really privileged to be honoured in her birthday list with an MBE – more commonly known as “my bloody effort”. It was a strange thing to celebrate something so special very far from home and loved ones but I was determined that I would mark the day by doing something nice. I plastered on some makeup and earrings and the one dress in my kit bag and waltzed off to a very trendy restaurant in Padstow – Prawn on the Lawn. I knocked back three glasses of bubbly, ate oysters, seared tuna and grilled mackerel tapas – all amazingly prepared and had a very lovely lunch, finished off with Roskilly’s Cornish Ice cream.

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Passage to Milford Haven

Following the final celebratory meal of the day, a roast chicken picnic on the boat with the Roden family and more Prosecco, Tom and I got ourselves ready for our night time passage to Milford Haven. This entailed sailing due north for around 15 hours; with Tom on board, I could afford to make this a night sail which would time well with the opening of the lock at Padstow Harbour (HW +/- 2) and the dying off of the day’s strong westerlies in the Bristol Channel which would have made going earlier an unpleasant experience. We left the Camel Estuary at 9pm and saw a tremendous sunset against the dramatic backdrop of Newland Rock.

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By 11pm we decided the sea was sufficiently lumpy to make getting your head down for a sleep on a two hour watch system a very good idea. Tom gave me first off-watch which was probably more due to the fact that I had sunk a good amount of Prosecco and needed to have a ‘lie down’ than any gentlemanly instincts on his part!

When I emerged at 1am – not having slept a wink, I was treated to my first proper dolphin show with a couple darting around the boat for about an hour, their sleek bodies transformed by the phosphorescent glow as they sped by. The wind had dropped by about 3am and so we shook out the precautionary reef when Tom got up for his watch and I hit the sleeping bag gratefully.

At 5am, the night was over and the outline of Lundy could clearly be seen to the east of us. My watch was totally dominated by a pod of dolphins who cavorted around Vela in the most joyful way. They really are beautiful creatures and the fact that they turned up after I had succumbed to the unpleased roll of the swell by losing what was left of my dinner over the side, just show that they have a sixth sense about when humans need to be entertained and distracted!

In the dying wind, we slowed down considerably and it seemed to take a long time before I was able to put Tom off at Milford Haven docks to run for his train home. My extravagant celebration lunch of the day before weighed heavily on my expenditure spreadsheet and so I opted for a free night – eschewing the comforts of Milford Haven Marina for the simple joys of a no cost mooring in Dale Harbour, a really beautiful bay at the entrance to Milford Haven.

It’s very peaceful, I’m about to eat my lentil bolognese and turn in very early for the night. I don’t think I’ll need much rocking!

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It’s been lovely to have a prolonged run ashore and take a look around. The beauty of being on the harbour wall in Padstow is that you can literally get out of bed and walk up to the coffee shop in your PJs, buy your Cappuccino and then get back into your bed! Don’t worry Ma – my PJs aren’t obviously sleep wear (only I knew). My job list while in Padstow goes something like this:

• Bale out the crockery cupboard and check bilges for water
• Do some walking/exercise
• Eat at a Rick Stein establishment
• Service the water pump

I’ve mentioned the upside of the being on the harbour wall – the downside could be described as having men of a ‘certain age’ comment that they would be willing to stowaway on my boat. As flattering as that may be, I decided that a strict criteria would be observed for stowaways – 25-35 years old, previous cocktail bar experience and some knowledge of knots! This fortunately proved sufficiently discouraging for those guys on the harbour benches who fancied a life aboard Vela!

Getting back my land legs

In need of some exercise to offset the great food so far, I took the coastal path out of Padstow which showed just how precarious the route up the estuary is, there are numerous sandbanks which are visible at low water and that’s when a fleet of diggers and tractors appear and move sand from one place to another – keeping the channels open. From my vantage point by the war memorial, they resembled ants working slightly fruitlessly against the inevitability of nature. I carried on to Stepper Point via the Coast Watch Station where I had a chat with Graham and John, two of an army of volunteers who keep a look out around the coasts of the British Isles. They work in tandem with the Coastguard to be the eyes on the ground and report back situations they witness from their cliffside eyries.

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The walk took in some fantastic scenery, not least the dreaded Doom Bar which at that time of day was clearly visible. Highlights were the day mark at Stepper Point and the dramatic Butter Hole which made me feel a bit sick looking down at the drop. Having walked 8 miles I felt justified in having a classic Cornish Cream Tea at a little café called ‘Rest a while’ – handily on route.

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Rick Stein – of course!

No trip to Padstow is complete without ingesting something that contributes to the profits of the Rick Stein business empire. With a fish and chip shop, fishmongers, café, gift shop, cookery school, bakery and posh seafood restaurant, it’s no wonder that they call it Padstein! I went to the Rick Stein Café (whose prices are normal) for dinner and had an excellent fish curry.

Exploring the Camel Estuary

A friend helpfully reminded me that I was at one end of the Camel Trail, a cycle route that runs from Padstow to Bodmin and Wenford Bridge using a disused railway that follows the river inland; I hired a bike and set off. It’s a really beautiful trail, with views back across the estuary entrance, wooded glades and the towns of Wadebridge which was pretty, and Bodmin which was not! (Must be the influence of the jail).

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Naturally, cycling 22 miles was thirsty work so you can imagine how pleased I was to discover a vineyard strategically placed halfway to Bodmin! The Camel Valley Vineyard produces award winning English wine. I can confirm that it was extremely delicious as I had a couple of glasses of chilled white on their tasting terrace overlooking the vines.

Rain and Force 7 winds forecast over the next two days so I’ll be busy prepping for the next leg – Padstow to Milford Haven.

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My first night at anchor, and what a night to choose! The wind howled and the rain crashed down noisily on the deck above my head. I set an alarm to warn me if the anchor moved position using the app Anchor!, I was relieved that it only went off once at midnight; a quick inspection of my iPhone revealed that I was still held fast but had just edged outside the alarm range. Satisfied that I wouldn’t wake up drifting in the middle of the Bristol Channel, I increased the alarm range and went back to sleep. Another quick check at 03.30am confirmed that all was well and another ‘no cost’ night was chalked up in this trip.

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The new day looked distinctly unimpressive with drizzle and a low claggy cloud over everything. I stayed in bed until 9am when hunger drove me to get breakfast on the go – the leftovers of last night’s corned beef hash and a couple of fried eggs – delicious! I weighed anchor at 10.30am and headed out into the grey channel, and settled into the companionway out of the immediate downpour with a flask of coffee – Audrey the Autotiller doing the bulk of the work. As the tide was still against me I motor-sailed for over half the distance but was briefly able to turn the engine off when the wind came round to the west and picked up about a couple of hours from Padstow.

Thank goodness for my amazing rain hat once again, it kept me totally dry. By the time I was near Padstow the weather started to improve and it was a real boost to morale to see the lighthouse at Trevose Head – the last major headland before the Camel Estuary started to open up. Padstow Harbour is accessible to a deep keeled boat two hours before to two hours after High Water. This is because of the ominous sounding Doom Bar – which as well as being a very good beer, is the name for a sand bar that runs across the Estuary causing treacherous choppy waters at low tide and a grounding for foolish vessels who ignore the depths! This was apparently created by a mermaid to avenge a local Padstow man who had spurned her. However, I had arrived at the right time and was across the bar at 5.30pm with no dramas or mermaids shaking their fists at me. The landscape as you pass into the estuary is stunning, with the final corner being Stepper Point with its chimney landmark a great reference point to sailors.

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A very friendly reception committee greeted me in Padstow Harbour, Justin and Adrian – two fellow Sadler owners and members of the Sadler Owner’s facebook group were there and came up to say hello. After sorting out Vela for the night, I had a piece of cake with Justin and then a lovely evening with Martin, Heather, Alun, John and Adrian who were all aboard Allegretto two boats down from me. We had a delicious meal of hake, gnocchi and samphire cooked by Martin and shared our sailing stories over some bottles of wine. As I returned to Vela, I was a little shocked to find that I had to climb over ten feet down a ladder to get on board as the tide had gone out and Vela had dropped with it – the joys of being berthed against a harbour wall!

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I’m going to enjoy exploring Padstow but have a few boat jobs to do before I leave for the Pembrokeshire coast – baling out the galley cupboard on finding an inch of seawater swilling around at the bottom of it; and checking all the seals in the water pump of the engine (thank goodness for You Tube). Until my next voyage, cheerio for now…

This world of wonders, where our lot is cast, 
Hath far more ends than one. A man may stand
On bluff rocks that stretch from Sennen Church, 
and watch the rude Atlantic hurling in 
the mighty billows – thus his land might end.

Henry Alford

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Today was such a great day but sadly I have little photographic evidence to express the thrill of it. Having consulted weather experts, I decided that conditions were favourable for making the passage around Lands End today; this meant a quick turnaround from my sister’s party and by 6pm last night I was leaving London on the GWR train to Penzance – a journey of five and a half hours.

I was ensconced back on board Vela by midnight and had calculated that I should be on my way by about 8am to make the tide that would push me around Land’s End and up the northern coast of Cornwall. I fortified myself at 7am in the local fisherman’s cafe where a bunch of grizzled looking blokes with white beards were drinking mugs of tea, comparing catches and grumbling about the bureaucracy of obtaining fishing licences. Replete with a bacon sandwich, I set off – having followed everything on the laminated checklist! I also chose my socks with care, having been presented with a rainbow pair by my colleagues on the Diversity and Inclusion team.

Which passage is better?

I’m becoming increasingly aware that on notable headlands there are two approaches; get as close as you dare so that you can practically touch the rock, or stay away so that every photo you take is useless and most features are indistinguishable. The inner passage is seen as much, much cooler – taking the outer passage is a bit wet frankly, risk averse, lilly-livered, yeller-bellied! Needless to say I have opted for the outer passage on every headland I’ve met so far! Part of the reason this time was that I wanted to sail it all – not turn on my engine; as the wind was coming straight from the west I would have had to motor some distance had I opted for the inner passage. But the other reason was once again that Mark Fishwick in his West Country Cruising Companion had put the fear of God into me (It’s also now very soggy because of a large wave – sorry Jon).

That coupled with the fact that I watched a documentary on my endless train journey about the tragic loss of the Penlee Lifeboat in 1981 when they attempted to rescue the crew of the Union Star whose engines had failed in a terrible storm.  Sadly there were no survivors of either vessel. As I passed the lifeboat house and slip in Mousehole which had been the site of the last launch of the lifeboat ‘Solomon Browne’, I reflected on the immense bravery shown by people of the RNLI who come out in terrible conditions to save us.  I was going to do my very best not to bother them today.

I hit the tidal gate – the Runnel Stone Buoy bang on HW Dover which meant that the tides would be with me all the way around to St Ives. I was flying along past Land’s End with a clear view of the awful visitor attraction that sits at the top of it. Whoever thought up having a ‘Dr Who Experience’ on this site needs to take a long hard look at themselves in the mirror! Having said that my younger son Hugh was deeply impressed with it when we came on a holiday here in 2008 and not impressed that he was at the second most westerly point of mainland Britain – the most westerly point I’ve been informed is Ardnamuchan in Scotland!

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The sea today provided an occasional white knuckle experience – the wave height was not more that a metre or so but the swell that comes straight in from the Atlantic is like travelling on the back of a rippling, muscular,  slithery monster which makes you feel pretty insignificant.  It’s like a very stately roller coaster ride but at no point did Vela falter and at one point we were flying along at over 8 knots.  With a reef in my sails I felt rightly powered and well balanced and we coped well with the increase in wind and waves close to the iconic Longships Lighthouse perched on its forbidding rocks.

Once past Lands End, the sea state calmed down and the wind dropped, but we still kept up a good pace and arrived in St Ives Bay at 3.30pm ready for a cup of tea and fruit cake.  Lunch had been a depressing affair involving a tin of sardines and a cracker – unfortunately one of the gas bottles had run out so no coffee all day! I dropped the anchor in the bay as the harbour here dries out and Vela’s fin keel prevents her from ‘taking the ground’. It’s been very pleasant looking at the town and beach and watching the ladies Gig boat teams training past Vela this evening – Gig racing is a big deal down in Cornwall.

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So I am bobbing around for the night, for what will inevitably be a fitful sleep with the ever present worry of the anchor alarm going off which it will do if we shift position significantly. To offset the stress involved I have reinstated a simple cocktail that my father used to have (no doubt a habit picked up in his years in the Merchant Navy) – the Pink Gin – not a disgusting sweetened girlie gin drink that calls itself that today, but a very adult, sophisticated concoction comprising gin and angostura bitters which provides the subtle blush that gives the drink its name, and a kick like a mule! I’ve also enjoyed the supper of champions – Cornish samphire in lemon and olive oil and Corned Beef hash with Baron’s Hot Pepper sauce (thanks Ma for the emergency Red Cross parcel), although there was one brief moment of panic when I realised I don’t have a can opener on board – Schoolgirl error. Its going to be a rocky night so I’d better keep my rainbow socks on!

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After the debacle of yesterday, you can imagine how long it took me to check all my laminated checklists prior to departure from Falmouth this morning! And when I say morning it was actually the middle of the night – Reveille was 0445hrs, I slipped Falmouth Haven at 0530hrs. The key to timing is the state of tide going around the Lizard – the southern-most headland of the UK. Unfortunately the Almanac (sailors’ Bible) and the West Country Cruising Companion could not agree on the best time and state of tide to go around the Lizard, so naturally I picked the one that gave me the longest lie-in. But in any case I didn’t sleep at all, probably due to all the drama of yesterday.

The Lizard has a reputation for luring unsuspecting sailors into a watery grave if they get caught in the race or overfalls that are created by the convergence of tides and currents around the headland. Advised by a friend to stay well clear of the Lizard I did so, but frankly this did not provide much in the way of instagram moments! If you squint and peer carefully you might just see the white cottage and lighthouse on Lizard Point behind me…. I can honestly say it was much bigger in real life! (I also thought I’d throw in a picture of the repaired mainsail – nice to have a new white bit in the centre of it!)

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Having conquered the Lizard, and no self-inflicted disasters so far – conditions seemed perfect, with the sun breaking through the cloud at mid-day to celebrate the fact that I had rounded the point and could finally bear away from the wind in a north westerly direction to Newlyn, on an enjoyable broad reach.

Newlyn Harbour

I’m choosing the title carefully having been ticked off for calling it Newlyn Marina in the first 5 minutes of arriving. Compared to the marinas in the Solent, Vela’s temporary home lacks many of the comforts that cost a king’s ransom down on the South Coast. So far I have not located the power showers, the loos, the hair styling equipment and the laundrette. I did get some sense that this was to be a ‘spit and sawdust’ experience when I batted my eyelashes, told them I was singlehanded and got a very stoney response on Channel 12 from the Harbour Master. I antagonised him further by rejecting the pontoon he had directed me use, in favour of one which allowed the wind to gently blow me alongside which made it a lot easier to hop off the boat with a line and get it round a cleat. I could see the angry tic in his cheek and ruddy flush up his neck from some distance at this gross insubordination!

Newlyn allows visiting yachts (about 8), but its main purpose is to house a fishing fleet which disgorges its daily catch at the Fish Market at the end of the dock. Unlike Penzance, Newlyn is accessible in all tides and is a port of refuge when the storms roll in from the Atlantic. The port also is now home to the Penlee Lifeboat Station, never forgotten for the tragedy that claimed the lives of 16 people in 1981 during the attempted rescue of the Union Star.

The port is full of rusty, scarred, working fishing vessels and the air is decidedly fishy. Once I had paid my dues which were a bargain at £20 a night, I bought some lemon sole and samphire at the market for my supper for only £3. It might not be a luxurious berth but the on duty/ off duty Night Watchmen Dave #1 and Dave #2 could not have been more helpful and friendly – sorting out electricity, shower tokens and advice with Cornish charm and brevity.

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A pre-dinner wander into the heart of Newlyn didn’t take very long but resulted in a very nice glass or two of chilled Muscadet at the local wine bar ‘Lovetts‘ owned by Rohit who produced some tapas of olives and anchovies which quelled the hunger pangs for a while. By the end of my second glass, I was a Newlyn fan. Straightforward, hardy and with a few stylish flourishes, Newlyn is a great place to visit.

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Monsters from the Deep

My regret so far in this voyage has been the lack of marine wildlife as I navigate around our coastline – no dolphins in any number, no basking sharks around the Lizard. This duck came to an end today in port where I was treated to numerous sightings of these gelatinous, flabby, pink objects.

I give you Rhizostoma pulmo – or the Barrel Jellyfish of Cornwall!

I’m taking a few days off in London to celebrate my sister’s 60th birthday – next week prepare yourselves for the rounding of Lands End, which will mark the beginning of my travels to the North.

One of the problems of writing a ‘full disclosure’ blog is that I must tell you the bad as well as the good – even when that makes me look like an incompetent plonker and will illicit numerous well-meaning bits of advice from the sailing fraternity and total incomprehension from the non-sailing readers. But more of that later, let me first compliment Falmouth; it’s a pretty, interesting and friendly town. I have walked up and down the main street numerous times to run my various errands since I arrived on Tuesday night. I’m on my second visit to Dolly’s Tea Rooms, a funky, vintage establishment at which I enjoyed a perfect scone with cream and jam (jam on first – obviously), and tea; I am back here again to take advantage of their 4-7pm Cocktail Happy Hour – served in teapots and teacups naturally. I can only rave about their Warm Crab and Lemon Crumble Tapas, delicious!

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I was very lucky to spend last night in the comfort of my friend Becky’s house in Falmouth which she lets out on Airbnb. This week’s guests left a day early which allowed me to enjoy the delights of a comfy bed, a claw footed, cast iron bath tub and good WiFi! If you want a holiday in Falmouth I recommend it as a lovely place to stay.

The day dawned blue and with a perfect breeze. I leapt out of bed, excited about my trip up the Helford River where I hoped to muse about Daphne du Maurier’s exotic hero Jean-Benoit Aubéry, and launch Vicky on her maiden voyage – ‘Up Frenchman’s Creek with a paddle’ if you will. Alas, it was not to be.

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I left Falmouth Haven around 10.30am, motoring happily into the River Fal. The breeze was picking up so I started to raise the mainsail. It was mystifyingly difficult to raise – I assumed that the reefing line from the reef I had put in on the trip from Fowey was causing friction and with a deep breathe gave an extra hearty tug. The sound of ripping sailcloth reverberated around the bay – I looked up in disbelief and saw that I had not untied one of the sail ties used in the reef. Feeling extremely cross and using copious amounts of profanity, I concluded that I had to return to Falmouth and find a sailmaker willing to make a same day repair for a reasonable price.

About 5 minutes later the second blow hit – the engine conked out! Our engine – a Yanmar 1GM10 may seem as gutless as a singer sewing machine at times but it is a reliable little trooper and this was the very first time I had experienced engine failure. Slightly stunned by this turn of events, I then saw the Archelon majestically powering out of Falmouth – this 120ft super sailing yacht with sleek lines and a multi-million pound price tag was not a vessel that I cared to crash into. Vela would surely leave an unsightly red smear along the pristine topsides, unnoticed by its sneering, Gauloise smoking, insouciant crew.

I hastily pulled out my Genoa and turned around to make for some safer open water. Then I made my first distress call – not a May Day – a Pan Pan – indicating there was no threat to life, merely a threat to my pride. After what seemed like a lot of bureacracy, as the coastguard completed the form filling part of the rescue mission, a heroic voice piped up from a nearby Rib saying that he was close and could provide assistance. Within minutes this cornish hero galloped up, tethered Vela to his considerable horse power and brought me back alongside at Falmouth Haven where Steve and his mate were waiting to take my lines having listened to the drama unfold on Channel 16. Steve helpfully added “I thought there was a lot of black smoke coming from your engine when you left this morning“!

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Having dropped the sail off at Penrose Sailmakers and booked in Nick Eddy the Marine Engineer recommended by Steve, I took myself off to Trago Mills and had a coffee overlooking the harbour. As I considered what had gone so wrong and wondered if I had caught a net on the propeller, a really horrible sinking sensation came over me. Had I opened the sea water intake seacock this morning? This draws in sea water which cools the engine – without the water the engine overheats…..

A quick and slightly emotional phone call to the co-owner resulted, as it always does, in bracing common sense and a sound plan of action. If that failed, there was always my credit card! So I spent a tense 30 minutes replacing the impeller – a device which regulates the sea water running into the engine and can break apart when there is no intake water and the engine is smoking hot, causing internal damage! Fortunately the impeller looked okay but I fitted the new one and when I turned on the engine – this time with the seacock OPEN, it sounded as sweet as a nut. Nick Eddy turned up just at that moment, sucked his teeth a few times and muttered under his breath when he heard what I had done, but confirmed that the engine sounded ok!

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All that remained was to collect my repaired sail from Gavin at Penrose Sailmakers – a really lovely guy who turned the job around in quick time, charged a very reasonable price and also had done the canvas work for the Rustler Yachts owned by my mates Sam and Mags, and Simon and Kate – it’s a very small world!

Lessons learned

We love to note ‘lessons learned’ in the Army – apparently it’s a way of avoiding the same mistakes again. Well, I hope I have learned the following from today:
1. Don’t rush.
2. You’re never too experienced to go through the departure checklist (laminated).
3. If you have to apply unreasonable force – there is a problem.

Hopefully off to Penzance tomorrow with all checklists double checked and a very boring blog tomorrow night!

Thanks Becky for pointing out this worrying news article! Could my lost disco ball in Plymouth Sound end up a hazard to shipping?! For the full Story of Giant Christmas Bauble UXO in the Thames see HERE.

Yesterday, a tiny disturbance in the sea indicated that magical boundary between Devon and Cornwall and suddenly I was in the land of tin, Wreckers, and of Poldark! I knew I was in a foreign land when I got a right dressing down this morning by the road sweeper for mispronouncing Fowey – it’s FOY as in TOY not FOWEY as in BOWIE! Having met up with Kevin Mitchell who had run the rally for Sadlers here over the bank holiday weekend on my arrival the night before, we reconvened for morning coffee on board Serena and had a ceremonial photo of ourselves to record the moment. Then it was back over to Fowey in the water taxi (no, I have not unwrapped Vicky yet) to search out a friend of a friend who runs a gallery – the Fowey River Gallery. Kevin Marchant was very welcoming and interested in my trip, he’d read the blog and realising that I was upset over the loss of the disco ball, generously bestowed a sea themed gift from his gallery to raise morale. Thanks Kevin – it certainly did make me smile.

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The weather in the morning was not condusive to an early sail – especially after yesterday’s intimate reminder of the power of nature, so I waited until more benign conditions and slipped from the pontoon bound for Falmouth at 1pm. The Gods of wind were finally in my favour. With a strong breeze across the beam and a reef in my sails, I felt equal to a fast afternoon sail with the potential for some gusts of 25knots. I cannot tell you how nice it is to point your boat in the direction you want to travel and for it to then sail there directly. With a good average speed of 5 knots the journey of 22 miles took about 4 1/2 hours to complete. This gave me ample time to complete the second half of my experiment….

The pasty taste test….

Bought in Fowey this morning, it had stayed warm until I ate it at 2pm. The pastry was crisp, full of flavour and golden; the filling was well seasoned, a classic mix of potato, onion, swede and meat. It was delicious. I’m not just saying this to keep the locals onside – this pasty won the competition hands down!

Falmouth

Once past St Anthony’s Head with its striking lighthouse, it seemed to take an age to reach the marina but finally I was parked in a corner slot, not having banged anyone’s boat when doing the final manoeuvring – always a bonus in a small, unfamiliar marina. Soon after tidying up the boat a neighbour of mine, who works in Cornwall during the week, got in touch and I was treated to a slap up dinner – many thanks Chris – lovely to see you!

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Despite sharing the harbour with a large cruise ship, Falmouth Yacht Haven seems quiet, provides everything you need and is centrally located to the town. I intend to spend a couple of days here in Falmouth; the weather is not great for Wednesday and Thursday and so I have reserved Friday for the big push to Penzance, although I may spend Thursday night on a mooring up the Helford River which is more sheltered in strong wind.

Finally, today seems to be the day when nothing got broken, bruised, lost overboard or euthanised. A good day indeed!

They say things come in threes – first Great Aunt Vera, second the disco ball, today I realised that I had left my hat at Kate’s house! This isn’t just any hat, this is a hat made in Brazil out of recycled tarpaulins, a cool hat, a hat that is going to prevent a premature leathering of my features. I resigned myself to a day of exposure and headed out of Plymouth Sound feeling a little unsettled about how my personnel administration seemed to have unravelled so quickly. My spirits were raised by the warship escort I was given – someone obviously had warned off the Navy to stop looking out for Ford Galaxies and look out for a stylish red boat instead! Three warships went past, with some Royal Marines in a rib darting around telling everyone to get out of the way.

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Once out of the Sound, the wind direction was a south westerly – which is common in these parts; that set the pattern for the day – an eight hour beat to windward, tacking regularly to try and make the course as short as possible (as a crow flies it’s 20 miles but I sailed 36 today). I have managed to improve my technique of controlling the tiller with my knee as I turn the boat through the wind, but it’s still a bit messy. Through the afternoon the wind was strengthening and gusting 25 knots and so I had reefed the sails early, the sea was pretty choppy and so once again anything not secured ended up on the floor of the cabin – luckily the strapping for the generator held firm.

By mid-afternoon I had pretty much had enough of tacking and getting my angles spot on to make the entrance to Fowey, the sky was looking ominous and I just wanted to get into a safe harbour. Fowey was within 2 NM when a squall which had been threatening, hit me and suddenly the world was grey, gusty and icy rain was hurting my face (no hat either!) and Vela was heeling over a little more than was strictly comfortable. I made a conscious decision not to panic, spilled the main (let all the wind out of it to depower it), started the engine and furled away my Genoa. A sense of control resumed and all that was left to do was to watch the rocky harbour entrance of Fowey get very slowly nearer – the houses on the hillside looking extremely inviting and tantalising close.

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It was just my luck that a Sadler rally had just finished in Fowey, in fact a couple of fellow Sadler owners waved at me as they passed, going east. However on one of the visitor pontoons, Kevin the Chair of the South West Sadler Association was waiting to welcome me and catch my lines. Kevin is a man who appreciates a good drink and so cocktail hour was not missed – he introduced me to a local gin – Tarquins which was delicious and hit the spot after my hard sail of 81/2 hours. The picture above shows his boat Serena across the pontoon from Vela.

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Happy endings…

A slap up steak dinner in the Lugger Inn (thanks for the recommendation Neil) was enough to replenish my rather knackered self and my lovely friend Kate had found the hat and a bottle of hair conditioner and driven to Fowey earlier to drop it all off at the Royal Fowey Yacht Club where a happy reunion took place! Her Red Cross package included a jar of homemade jam – luxury! A good night’s sleep then maybe Falmouth tomorrow.

After a very comfy night in a real bed, I was ready to face the task of disposing of Great Aunt Vera who was starting to attract flies on the coach roof. I scouted the marina and boatyard for a suitable final resting place that wouldn’t get me fined, and found the perfect location. Great Aunt Vera – may you rest in peace!

Now on to the necessary admin of acquiring a replacement dinghy. I’d been told about a chandlers in walking distance called Marine Bazaar. It is a treasure trove of stuff you never even knew you wanted – second hand, new, stuff salvaged from boats ancient and modern – you could browse for hours in there. I needed a dinghy and also some U-brackets to secure the generator which had fallen on its side when really heeled over the other day and soaked some towels with petrol – that made the inside of the boat smell lovely! The grizzled assistant gave me an appraising stare – was I a time waster/difficult customer/non-spender? – as it turned out I was two out of three of those things. I purchased the perfect sized dinghy very quickly and the fittings I needed, but realised I couldn’t really carry the dinghy a mile back to the marina and I needed a drill to fit the brackets. Roger the assistant huffed and puffed but was fantastic – lent me a drill – gave me the correct sized drill bit and a lift in his car to the marina. Who says that customer service is dead? When I returned the drill, I also took my oars, now redundant as the new dinghy came with some included. He gave me £20 for them which was more than I had hoped for. Go there for all your boating needs!

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A brief walk beyond the Barbican convinced me that the town planners must’ve been off their faces on some substance when they rebuilt the bits that had been bombed in the War – beautiful ancient buildings are dwarfed by hideous municipal carparks. Having been told by my mother that alcohol was a worryingly recurrent theme in my blogs, I tried very hard to get on a Plymouth Gin distillery tour, but they were all booked up today – lucky I have some left on Vela.

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A sincere thanks to my Saturday night hosts Kate and Simon who looked after me very well and returned me to the marina today armed with a tin of Cassoulet (saved for another long crossing) and a very heavy fruitcake – which is delicious but also provides excellent ballast, and will be useful if I need to plug any leaks or holes in the hull.

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Lastly, and I do hope you don’t feel that its too soon to be talking about the new dinghy, I’ve decided to call her Vicky – sassy, speedy and compact!