The morning forecast is suggesting SW or W F3 to F5 but at least there is no rain on the horizon and the river most definitely looks so much nicer in the early sun than yesterday afternoon’s downpour. There is even a woman and her dog pulling out along the river…

Decision made, and instead of slugging across in a headwind to Falmouth, we opt for Fowey. This should be (almost) possible if the wind has a decent bit of south in it and we want to give it another go. We were there 7 years ago and arrived in the midst of some festival or other, where all the pubs and restaurants were only doing drinks and no food. The place was rammed with loads of boozing and we got royally ripped off in the only place serving food which was an over-priced and very surly Indian….not that we are bitter or twisted!

The wind has already being blowing most of the night and we slide out of the river into quite a swell from the SW. We round the Mewstone rocks and set sail across Plymouth and try to clear Rame head. Sadly not quite and we need to tack back south before we can make a decent course. The sea is definitely lumpier than completely comfortable, but Heydays laps it up and most of the sea stays outside the boat! The weather is glorious and we are in the company of a few other boats making their way west. The submarines (if indeed they are there) don’t make themselves felt and we scud out across Whitsands bay in a freshening breeze. As the afternoon wears on the wind and the seas build with (we assume) the onset of sea breezes. With the headland refusing to move to allow us to make Fowey in one fetch, we tack out once more and the occasional sea decides that it would be better inside our cockpit than out. Still, the sailing is glorious, but we are all painfully aware that our days of taking this for more than just an afternoon seem long gone. We hear a couple of  coastguard calls, one for a yacht which has washed ashore not far from our position, but with no sign of the lone sailor on passage from Roscoff. Boats in the vicinity are being asked to look out…

Another yacht has lost its mast and is looking for a tow in. We are grateful we had our rigging renewed last summer.

Of the dismasted yacht and the missing sailor we see no sign, and we finally begin to close the entrance to Fowey. Grateful for some respite from the constant bracing against the rollers from the west. We are directed to the last remaining walk ashore pontoon and soon a french yacht is also rafted up outside. With lines snug we are in the cockpit with gin and tonic within 10 minutes and bask in the glory of another hardy and  (to us at least) heroic beat to windward.

Thankfully no festival today but almost all the restaurants are fully booked. We end up in a completely un-prepossessing  pub called the Lugger, but which serves up a great few dishes at prices well below some of the ‘nicer’ restaurants. They deserve more recognition in our humble opinion.