With Heydays out of the water in Plymouth, we take the opportunity to anti-foul her bottom and we even have time to polish her top sides…the decks and coach roof will have to wait though. There is no doubt that after nearly 2 years away from home she is looking a little tired and in need of more detailed attention than we have been able to give her.

However we receive the sad news that John’s Dad passed away early on Tuesday 10^th October. In March with all of us in Orkney, John rushed back to be with him in what doctors thought were to be his last few days. However over the next few months he rallied and John managed to take him out to his favourite pub, The Ferryhouse Inn on the river Tamar, for the occasional pint and meal. We’ll have a wake there after the funeral and toast Roy, looking out over the river and the dockyards at Devonport where he spent so much of his life.

With a domestic and weather window before the funeral, we decide to press on Eastwards with a plan to take us to Dartmouth, Poole and then home. Heydays is lifted back in the water and we slip the mooring just after 11am on Saturday morning. The benefits of a clean bottom and prop are felt immediately as Heydays slips easily through the Sound at 4 knots at only just over 1000 revs. The wind is on the nose as we head south initially, but we look forward to a straightforward beat to Start Point and then a fetch and final run into Dartmouth.

John pilots us out of his boyhood waters with mixed emotions…and a grey sky,

We skim the light at the Western end of the breakwater…

and in clear seas the wind frees and we head for the Mewstone rocks just south of Wembury point with a full set of sails.

With each headland, we make some more easting in the course and by the time we round Bolt Head we are on a fine fetch. The sky lightens and breaks (…”enough blue to make a sailor a pair of trousers” as my grandma used to say) and the green fields of S Devon slip by.

By the time Salcombe is on the beam, the sun is out and although the wind dies to a zephyr we are just happy to be out on the water.

We pass a few floating plastic drink bottles and grumble about the general level of pollution, the future of the planet etc. etc. …how unusual for two old men…With a near flat sea we suddenly realise that we are not looking at drinks bottles at all, but Portuguese men of war (who are doing a very good impression of floating plastic debris). We even see a gull tentatively pecking at the sac. We are not sure if that encounter finally ends in a score draw…

As Start Point comes on the beam the mouth of the Dart, although still 10 miles away, is indicated by a cluster of sails and other boats like bees round the entrance to a hive.

We pick our way up river just as the ebb is starting and with the sun casting longer shadows over the town, we understand why this part of the coast is so popular for tourist and yachties alike.

We even have time to glance back…

On cue, a steam train whistles and chuffs away up the old line. This could be a scene from the fifties….except for the rows of plastic boats now lining the banks instead of fine varnish and canvas…

We choose the town quay for the night as we are allowed to moor there while the ferries are not working from around 5pm to 8.30am. As we plan to be away by 6am there shouldn’t be a problem…except that the ferry is working later today due to demand! There is enough space for all of us but we have to put up with a few returning drunks waiting next to us for the last boat back across the river. We are not at all bothered as we head for the The Royal Castle for a couple of pints and a what turns out to be a great meal. This is slightly spoiled by 1) the price….welcome to the touristy south and 2) the fact that the service charge does not go to the staff at all. After the recent high profile stuff in the news about owners pocketing tips meant for staff, we thought that this would now be a thing of the past. How naïve are we? The prices in the Royal Castle are high enough without them feeling that they can steal from their staff…..grump over. Dartmouth is delightful and we’ll return soon with more time to look around.

We check forecasts and ex-hurricane Ophelia is looking like it will be making its presence felt over the next few days as it tracks north from the Azores. The further east we can make, the easier it will be. There are some gales forecast in Fitzroy, Sole and Plymouth sea areas…all to the west of us but some F5/6  in Portland and Wight. Looks good to go at the moment, but we’ll check in the morning.

 

Who invented alarms at 3.15? This is not the time for sparkling conversation and repartee…we get ourselves ready in an even more cursory fashion than yesterday and soon we are squeaking and rustling around in our wet weather gear with plenty of layers underneath. Just time to make some coffee and neither of us feel like eating…or talking much, at the moment. We can just about pick out the dim outlines of other boats on the river as we make our way downstream and out into the inky blackness of the open sea once more. Some big warships in port have lights blazing and this helps navigation for a while…just the Black Rock to find and avoid now.

St Anthony Head light blazes comfortingly through the drizzly blackness and the silence is only disrupted by their mournful foghorn which we hear for some time even once we are well past. The rain comes and goes and once we are past the headland we set a straight line for Penlee Point and the entrance to Plymouth Sound. With nothing especially challenging (we hope) for the next few hours, we settle into a brief watch routine. We are running just on genny alone and when the showers have passed the visibility is not too bad. The radar suggests a boat about 3 miles away off the starboard beam and they track us steadily for sometime until we finally see their running lights. At first all we can see is a red and a white light but eventually, when we are about 1 mile away we can see the red above white of a fishing boat. Gradually we can make out more of the outline of the boat and can actually see the waves…a feeble dawn is clearly coming albeit without the splendid light show and colours of yesterday. Our patch of sea is suddenly more active…two tugs in line abreast are pushing steadily West and some small fishing boats are pottering around inshore.

James’ turn to grab some sleep and when he pops his head out an hour later, we have already closed Penlee point. From the sea, it is obvious why some are headlands and others are points…Rame head and Penlee Point give us a geography lesson.

John has phoned his friend who lives in some flats at Cawsand Bay and we make a short detour into the bay. We see his torch flashing at us and wave back energetically….while still on the phone!

John has loads of memories of sailing these waters in dinghies nearly 60 years ago and he enthusiastically points out local stuff as he sails Heydays into his boyhood waters. He opts to use his local knowledge and takes us through the short cut on the Cornish side of Drake’s Island.

Back in the sound and a Military Police Launch hurries over to a catamaran which is seemingly oblivious of a huge (and un-named warship) bearing down on him. We keep well out of the way…best not to argue with missiles, guns and torpedoes (and who knows what else…). The man with the gun on the bridge doesn’t wave back!!!

We tie up in the marina with enough time for a fry-up before our scheduled lift out at 12.30. We hope they don’t need to come on board, as second-hand fried breakfasts are not everyone’s idea of subtle fragrances…we even have time to wash up.

Heydays is lifted out and we are disappointed with the amount of slime we have accumulated since we antifouled in April in Scotland. We can hire a pressure washer for 30 quid, but for an extra tenner we can have it done for us…we’ve had enough of getting wet…

Our loss of speed is due to hull fouling after only 6 months but also to some fouling on the prop. Teckky alert…we used Hemple’s Tiger on the hull and it has not performed especially well, but we splashed out on some PropSpeed for the prop 2and a half years ago. It cost nearly 100 notes just for the prop but has worked well until now. The locals don’t do PropSpeed any more and like many commercial boats use a spray-on grease instead…we’ll try that out this time.

More disappointingly, it is clear that the cutlass bearing has failed after only three years and the rope cutter is also beyond repair. Mick from M&G Marine is a gem however and he sources replacements very rapidly. The work won’t be done however until next week, by which time our domestic duties have caught up with us once more. The yard is able to do us a deal and so Heydays is ashore for the next two weeks having her bottom and stern gear attended to…

Final thoughts…we expressed our disappointment at what we considered to be an early failure of gear which we thought was relatively new. Mick’s view, once he learns that we have been almost all the way round the UK is that we shouldn’t be surprised given the distance that Heydays has covered. We console ourselves that at least we are wearing gear out (like our mooring warps) rather than them just rotting away through lack of use like so many of the boats we see in the Lymington marinas…

A short weather window opens with some winds promising to drive us East…at least for a while. A drive back to Newlyn and we spend the afternoon checking and re-checking the diesel filters and fuel lines and then running the engine to make doubly certain that we don’t have to call for help again. The Lizard is the next tide gate we need to round and will also mark the most southerly point of the trip round the UK. This necessitates an early morning start to be there by 10am latest. Alarms are never welcome and  4.30 is particularly grim. We busy ourselves with a minimum of domestic hygiene and get the boat ready for what is forecast to be a biggish swell, courtesy of the Atlantic lows which have been threatening the western areas of the UK for some time. It seems that the culprit is a split in the jet stream with a vindictive little arm now tracking further south than usual. Along with two fishing boats, we slip out of Newlyn, determined to come back soon as part of a visit to the Scillies which we are sadly missing this time. After the lights of the harbour, the open sea seems inky black and we just have the lights of the fishing boats for company as we head out across Mounts Bay towards the Lizard.  As our eyes get used to the dark we start to make out the faint outline of St Michaels Mount, dark and brooding (over what might have been a glorious role as the capital of a Nazi Cornwall?).

The merest glimmer of light breaking over the horizon, suggests that the sun is not far behind and soon we can make out the dark grey outline of the headland. Decision number 1 for the day…do we take the inshore channel round the Lizard (and save ourselves a 3 mile detour) or do we play safe and keep well off. The pilots warn of breaking seas in SW winds and the need for local knowledge to make the inshore passage….we take the detour. As it happens, there is no sign of breakers, just the distant sight of the Atlantic swell sending up great plumes of salty spray as it arrives angrily in Europe from Trump’s America. …(OK OK….even Trump doesn’t control the waves, but we are still, just, in Europe).

There is something special about dawn at sea. Night passages have their own charm and even tranquillity. The night watches pass almost in a cocoon, with just the dim glow from the instruments for company and a constant scanning of the blackness for what is mostly not there at all. But the first sign of light brings a gradual awakening of a wider world.

Soon we can make out the ever-present threat of lobster pots (how many did we pass unseen in the night?) and take action to avoid. We see the early terns and gannets wheeling and searching for breakfast…and we see our crew appearing blearily from below after final 2 hour kip offering hot coffee.

Tiredness seems to disappear with the dawn, and we marvel at the constant and rapidly changing patterns of the morning sky.

The sun finally makes an appearance itself just as the long haul jets are playing noughts and crosses in the sky, although if they are US planes we suppose it would be tic tac toe…

We round the Lizard in a stunning September sun and celebrate our most southerly headland  with a tot of whisky from Scapa…our most northerly point, in Orkney.

Just off our beam we suddenly see dozens of gannets dive-bombing in rapid succession, heralding an unseen shoal (of anchovies, sardines?). Soon there is the unmistakable rise and fall of dorsal fins…who found the shoal first…the gannets or the dolphins? Either way there is competition and soon the shoal seem to seek shelter near Heydays as she pushes through these western approaches. The dolphins are with us for ages (but we are rubbish with the camera this time…or are they just shy?)…and then as quickly as they arrive, they leave us alone again, either having eaten their fill or having run out of fish.  We wonder whether dolphins ever fancy bird for lunch…

We turn Heydays northwards once more for the first time since April and the business of this bit of sea makes itself felt…

We goose-wing for as long as possible before finally hauling down the sails and turning once more to our ‘ol iron tops’l for our final approach.

At the third attempt, James manages to get John within an arm’s reach of a buoy and soon we are thinking of lunch…and naps. The day is bright and sunny and a swift call to the harbour taxi has us joining the day trippers and tourists…and feeling somewhat underdressed, although our version is that we look like salty sons of the sea…no-one is so impolite to point out that we are just scruffy…

We ponder lunch over a beer and hit on what turns out to be one of the highlight meals of the trip. Amanzi is a South African restaurant with a unique menu and a great range of cocktails. Afternoon rum and ginger beer very nearly does for us! Apologies for pictures of food and drinks…even sailors can snap their food!

John’s son and daughter in law (Christopher and Sarah) drive down to meet us and  we spend a happy afternoon pottering round the lanes.

As afternoon turns to evening the latest front makes its presence felt and the fine drizzle gets into every nook and cranny. We wait by the pontoon for the water taxi and watch a damp gentleman get into his inflatable tender. After a few brief pumps, he rows energetically and damply upstream. We are grateful for our warm and friendly taxi…and we pass him a little later, still rowing energetically enough but even more damply.

During the voyage from Newlyn, the engine behaved brilliantly when needed, although we seemed to have lost a bit of speed. More worrying is an annoying vibration from somewhere near the prop-shaft. We asked around in Falmouth to have a lift out to have a look, but they are all fully booked. Plymouth has a slot at 12.30 the following day. With an 8 hour sail this means an even earlier start. We get ourselves and the boat as ready as possible for a quick getaway and finally turn in around 8 to the gentle sound of rain lashing the deck…and the nagging back-of-the-mind awareness of a 3.15am alarm.

At 8.30 we are roused from almost-sleep by flashing blue lights and the unmistakeable sound of the twin engines of a Tamar Class lifeboat. We poke our heads out and they are looking for an elderly gentleman… we hear up and down the river for some time, but no news at the moment…hoping for the best.

With a forecast of SW F7 coming in over the next day or so, we sadly abandon ideas of getting to the Scillies on this trip. Shorter days, increasing frequency of strong south westerlies and the realities of domesticity mean that we are running out of time to get Heydays home for the winter. Several local sailors suggest in any case that the season has passed for comfy cruising in the islands. We set about doing the touristy thing in Cornwall and head off for what will be a very wet and gloomy visit to St Michaels Mount.

The causeway is only open for a couple of hours either side of low tide and we trudge off along with several other bedraggled groups and some bemused chinese students.

It takes a certain kind of person to live on an island like this and it appears that a member of the German High Command had been promised Cornwall. He apparently decided that the castle would be just the place to rule and retire…

The island itself is fascinating and we wander happily around despite the damp, wondering what it would have been like to have been besieged here by roundheads (or anyone else for that matter).

Before the tide turns we return to Cornwall and watch as the waters once more cut off the island…

The following day is bright and blustery and we consider a sail to Falmouth. Economics now rears its head and at nearly twice the daily rate we opt to leave Heydays for a few days in Newlyn instead of pushing East.

A lone sailor appears from the Scillies and we realise we have made the right decision. He had to move anchorage several times as the storm passed through and is now utterly exhausted…we go sightseeing again.

St Ives will appeal to some and not others, but the Tate and Hepworth is a real attraction for part of our crew. The tourists are (mostly) absent which makes the town navigable, but the Tate is sadly shut for renewal. We spend a happy few hours poking around the lanes and a couple of smaller galleries…

…and although we don’t see this…

..we get why Barbara Hepworth and generations of artists since, have been so inspired by the sea and landscape of Cornwall.

On the way back we visit the Sennen Cove Lifeboat to thank them properly. They are having a practice launch and we watch transfixed as they slide majestically into the waves…

The final bit of sightseeing takes us back in to the other big cornish industry…tin mining.

Our guide is an ex-miner who brings the reality of the industry to life. The tour underground is not for the claustrophobic and James and Chris find it ‘interesting’ but welcome the daylight at the end…

The mine closed in ’86 and with it a unique way of life. As so often, the women had a unique, physically exhausting and low paid role and the Cornish Balmaidens would have given the Scottish Herring Gutters a run for their money…

Economics, as we have seen in too many places around our coast, places profit above people, places and communities…with the state left to pick up the pieces once capitalists have left with the money…

 

 

 

Most things seem better in the sun and with a bright Monday and the added bonus of Chris and Yee Tak on board, (and Chris’s Dorset Apple cake), we set about taming our wild diesel bugs. Research is suggesting that with bio-diesels becoming more common, the problem of bugs will not go away, it just needs managing. We consider taking out the tank for a steam clean (where?) and renewing the fuel lines, but even that doesn’t always solve the problem. In fact we meet Jacques, a depressed French sailor who had exactly the same problem last year and had all the fuel system professionally cleaned…and then encountered his buggy friends all over again. Talking to various people around the thriving fish dock, it seems that fishing boats are not immune either. Their most pragmatic solution is the one we finally opt for….regular biocides in the fuel, followed by dispersants to suspend the hopefully now dead slimes to be burnt in the engine…and a large stock of replacement filters. The message is not if you get an attack, but when.

Our problem now is to source filters and new fuel line…enter new Newlyn friend number 1. We don’t get his name, but the young engineer in MTS runs us into Penzance in his van having phoned ahead to determine that they have the parts. His knowledge of diesel filters and part numbers is encyclopaedic and even better, at  22 years old, he is a great advert for the power of apprenticeships…even if he is critical of Cornwall College’s admin! Within the hour he gets us to Penzance and back complete with parts and even better, it only takes one more hour for the guys at Mill Autos to get extra filters delivered to the quay.

A sub-plot to all this is Yee Tak’s new friend Louis, off the fishing boat Victoria Anne. He sells us 3 huge crabs and one large spider crab for a total of £10.  She spends the rest of the day plotting the cooking and serving of the crabs…

…meanwhile, back in the engine room…Heydays is treated to a new filter, new fuel lines and a shock dose of biocide. The fuel refuses to flow until we take the highly technical action of blowing down the fuel line! With a rush the diesel flows and soon Heydays responds with a healthily purring engine once more. We throw in some dispersant for good measure and the engine appears to run faultlessly. It will take a while however, for us to completely relax without hearing every little change of engine note…

Newlyn is a busy fishing port with the outward signs of relative prosperity and we are enchanted by the constant activity both dockside and in the harbour. Despite the lack of a decent shower and dedicated facilities for soft yachties, we find that it has swiftly become one of the highlights on our journey round the UK, with a welcome and friendliness up with the best of the encounters we had on the East coast.

Spider crab gives us a great late supper, washed down with some chilled Picpoul de Pinet…

New friends in Newlyn part 2…

Tuesday dawns bright and sunny and we resolve to test the engine with a sail round the bay over to St Michaels Mount. Heydays pushes through a clear sparkling sea with a few returning fishing boats for company and although we enjoy the wind in our sails, we keep the engine running and listen nervously for any coughing or spluttering. This comes just as the rock is abeam and instantly we are out of our reverie and making sure that the wind will take us comfortably back to the safety of Newlyn harbour. It turns out to be just a blip, but…

Back in our berth, two more crabs and some salmon fill us to overflowing for lunch. A very happy hour or so is spent cracking, sucking and picking very last bits of juicy sweet meat from the shells…these are then boiled up to make a fantastic smelling stock…

We then resolve to tackle the intermittent aerial problems at the top of the mast. John and Yee Tak heave James plus his share of crab (big mistake) to the top of the mast. Operations there involve the highly technical ‘wiggling’ and making and breaking connections.

The anchor light responds and so does the VHF (we think). This is not a job to be done at sea and we marvel at how the old sailors used to think nothing of going aloft to deal with wet and flogging canvas in often rough seas and icy conditions.

In to Newlyn for a drink and Yee Tak is drawn inexorably to the Elisabeth Veronique which is unloading her catch after 5 days at sea. Enter new Newlyn friends number 3, 4 and 5. The skipper Mark, together with his two crew Shan and the apprentice Adam are happy for us to have a look and very soon they are filling a bag with 5 huge squid. They refuse to take any money and yet again we are humbled by the generosity of people who, having spent 5 days at sea in a small boat are happy to give away some of their hard-earned catch to complete strangers.

After 2 days rest they will be back out to sea again, to ensure that the rest of us can casually have squid, cuttlefish, turbot and brill for tea as the fancy or the latest cooking show takes us. Safe trips guys and we’ll think of you as we tuck in to our squid.

The swordfish by the quay turns out to be simply a great old-fashioned pub (albeit with some great music). We get chatting to new Newlyn friend number 6. Tammy is from the same part of S London as James and her Dad had one of the last big traditional London funerals (as we see on You Tube later). She has named her dog after him and swears that her chocolate lab has her Dad’s spirit and genes…

On hearing our troubles in hiring a car, she immediately gets on the phone to sort things out for us. In short order, she has found a car and even arranges to drive us out there to pick it up next day in her break time from work. Once again we are humbled by simple generosity and the kindness of strangers.

We reflect that Newlyn has a special place in our hearts and raise (several) glasses to the men of the Sennen Cove lifeboat, to the apprentice at MTS, to Louis on the Victoria Anne, to Mark Shan and Adam from the Elisabeth Veronique and to Tammy and indeed all the others in this remarkable community we didn’t have the chance to meet.

 

 

More of that later…Heydays is finally on the move again after a summer where we have been doing things other than floating around on our bit of Moody plastic, although Yee Tak and James had a week just lazing around on the river and a brief foray out into the sea with granddaughter for her first time on the boat.

Our original plan had been to mooch over to Southern Ireland and explore Wexford, Waterford and Cork before heading to the Scillies and then a trundle East and home. However, hospital appointments conspire against us and we finally slip the mooring at Rudders around 5pm on Saturday 16^th September. Rudders was a great place to leave Heydays and despite a few damp trips in the tender we would very happily visit again and explore Pembrokeshire some more.

We have now decided to miss Ireland this time and head instead for Newlyn, where we will pick up Yee Tak and Chris with a plan to spend a few days in the Scillies before perhaps leaving Heydays in Falmouth or thereabouts while we return home again for yet more domestic stuff.

With a forecast F4 or 5 occasionally 6 from the North and a sea state of slight we settle in for a run across the outer reaches of the Bristol Channel and a quiet but longish night. With 10 hours of darkness ahead, we are already missing the short not-quite-nights of our summer days in Scotland. The sea is definitely more than slight and gives us a very short yet steep chop over the stern. The autohelm struggles to keep a steady course and the wind is nowhere near F4. Every sea shakes what little wind there is out of the sails and once more we need to motor-sail to keep up sufficient speed to get us to Runnel Stone off Lands End before the tide turns. As darkness creeps over us, we settle into a watch routine and have a fishing boat and another yacht for company, albeit some distance off. Occasional bursts of torrential rain add to the discomfort of a rather violent motion and a few flashes of distant lightening do little to cheer us up. Nothing like sitting on the sea with a huge metal pole sticking up amidst a thunderstorm…this is not what was forecast.

The night trundles on and around 3.30 a very sodden John retires thankfully below while James huddles under the spray hood. The radar is reassuring and we have overtaken the yacht a few hours ago. No sooner than John shuts his eyes than the engine dies. This provokes instant reaction  and all thoughts of sleep vanish. We go through the routine of trying to restart without success and finally accept that we are going to have to bleed the diesel lines through…not a great prospect in a heaving boat…

Bleeding yields no success. In fact it yields no trace of diesel at all. This is worrying as we should have at least 90L of fuel, enough for around 35-40 hours of constant motoring. We manage to put another 15L into the tank from our reserve cans but to no avail. Next step…filter change. This shows finally the true extent of the problem. A black slimy sludge lies across the top and we have read enough to know that we have diesel bug. Enter Klebsiella, Candida and Cladosporium. These are the diesel equivalent of STDs. We wouldn’t have minded but we never refuelled without the full protection of biocides and inhibitors.

The fuel line is completely blocked and we gradually accept the fact that we are not going to get the engine running again without some major work and certainly not something we can attempt at sea. However we are a sailing boat so we will sail out of trouble…By now, dawn is breaking and the sun brings a lessening of the sea but sadly no more wind. In the last 3 hours we have made just 8 miles and we start to wonder if we will make the tide gate off Lands End. There are few options open to us…the north Cornwall coast is notoriously inhospitable with neither Padstow nor St Ives especially easy to enter and certainly not without an engine. Pressing on is the best bet and yet we doubt if we have enough wind to get us to Runnel Stone. We also doubt that we will be able to stem the adverse tide that will then be pushing us back round the north Cornwall coast. Option 3 is to head out to sea and away from what is now a lee shore. This solves the immediate problem but does nothing to address the longer term problem of needing to get into port. The forecast is for the very light winds to continue. We are now in the shipping lanes and have no ability to get out of harm’s way, relying solely on others seeing us.

Reluctantly we decide that we ought at least to inform the coastguard of our situation so that at least they can warn other shipping. This now throws up a secondary problem…our main VHF appears not to be transmitting. We check all the on board connections and realise that the problem is either at the top of the mast or with the set itself. Our only recourse now is to close the coast and hope to get sufficient signal from our back-up hand-held VHF to talk to the shore.

Yet despite all this, not only are we in no danger, but the day is glorious and a pod of dolphins spend ages surfing and playing around us. They truly are magical and inspiring and there are many worse situations we could be in….

Around 11 we finally get a weak signal to Falmouth Coastguard. After much consultation on their part they finally decide that they would rather not have a small boat chuffing around with limited manoeuvrability in the shipping lanes, especially as we have no prospect of getting to Newlyn before darkness descends once more. They ask us if we would accept a tow and we agree. Sennan Cove Lifeboat is duly launched at 11.15 and by 12 they are in radio contact with us and we can see the sun glinting off their windows. In the last couple of hours the wind has become even more fluky and we are down to just 2kt. We try to look reasonably efficient and have sails down and lines ready by the time they make a final approach.

 

In short order they check we are all OK and they feel they have no need to have a crew on board. This makes us feel marginally less like a couple of incompetent geriatrics. With a 60m-70m rope there is no nasty snatch and Heydays is soon creaming along at just under 10kts. Being towed is not easy and it is quite hard to keep from yawing from side to side. We take half hour stints at the wheel for the 4 hour trip to Newlyn.

 

Unbeknown to us, a watcher on the cliffs takes some picture of us being towed with the Longships Light in the background…it is now on the Sennen Cove Lifeboat website!!!

We pass Lands End and some great coastline and soon Penzance Bay opens out before us with St Michaels Mount majestic in the afternoon sun.

Just outside the harbour entrance we drop the tow and they tie up alongside to take us into a berth. The seamanship of the cox is incredible and he brings Heydays alongside so gently that he wouldn’t have crushed an egg! No sooner are we tied up than they are off. We just have time to ask about charges and donations, but his parting shot is “…as long as you’re happy, we’re happy”. With that, the magnificent rumble of the big diesels pushes them back out of Newlyn, back to Sennan Cove  and presumably back to their disturbed Sunday roasts.

These guys were not especially challenged today in our ‘rescue’, but we were equally humbled and inspired by them….humbled that they ask for nothing (although we will of course donate) and inspired by their selflessness and seamanship. Thank you so much to the Cox and Crew of the Sennan Cove Lifeboat.

As a footnote, Newlyn is home to the Penlee Lifeboat and this is an added and poignant reminder of the danger they willingly put themselves in to serve and save others.

As a further footnote: John’s brother Pete and his wife Wendy drive over from The Lizard and join us for dinner in the Red Lion on Sunday evening. This was a real treat and we resolve to return sometime soon.

 

This is to be our longest trip so far, and at 130 miles is around 24 hours depending on wind, tides etc. The pilot book unhelpfully suggests that the south to north route is best, as it is possible to carry tides north for a long time using back eddies and other oddities off the coast. We are going north to south so just have to sit through two tide cycles and tough it out.  James flies in on the morning flight from Bristol and by noon we are waving goodbye to Chris and to Dublin.

Again, we are told to keep well clear of the channel and as soon as we are able, we gratefully bear away south east across the bay and away from the big commercial movements…just the ferry into Dun Laoighaire to think about…

The wind is more south than the forecast SW and we motor-sail with some tide having decided to keep to the Irish coast for as long as possible before getting a good wind (and neutral tide) across to Milford Haven. We set a course to pass down the outside of Arklow Bank and the wind farm and the autohelm whirrs away happily as we alternately doze in loose watches. Dublin County and Wexford coast slip past…

 

But of the Wexford coast we see nothing. The clouds close in and the visibility reduces just in time for us to be in a relatively busy part of the shipping lane along the coast! With visibility less than a mile, the wind farm is there and not there…

…and at times strangely half there…

The radar however gives us great comfort and we can ‘see’ other boats in reasonable time and make adjustments to keep clear. This is only the second time we have had to use it in anger so to speak on this trip and we count ourselves lucky, given the number of anxious foggy crossings of the channel we have made in the past in the days before we had radar.

The fog comes and goes and darkness descends early, together with a more lively sea and Heydays still only able to motor-sail with just a main to help us along. Ships come and go and only one gives us concern until we show a very definite course change, at which point she also changes course to pass well clear. Even so, a mile and a half is close enough…By now we are plugging a foul tide and the miles tick past…and the night wears on….

We close the edge of the main Irish side shipping lanes and bear away towards Wales, thankful to be away from the main traffic and able to finally set a decent genoa in what it still stubbornly a SSW F4 or 5. Taking turns to sleep, the night passes and just a ferry with lights so bright they mask the navigation lights, gives any cause for concern. It slips away into the night as the moon and a few stars put in an appearance for a short while…and then we are alone again, peering hopefully into the east for some signs of brightening if not actual sun.

By 3 we have the first signs of Wales with the Bishop and Clerks light welcoming(?) us and then the first signs of dawn around 4. Just after 5 John is woken by an excited James as we have the company of a pod of dolphins. They disappear on their own journey all to quickly and just a lone dolphin joins us later for a short while before she(?) too follows another path.

We breakfast on warm focaccia and coffee to welcome the day and pick our way past Skokholm and Grassholm islands and the start of the channel into Milford Haven. From the ruggedness and tranquillity of the coast we are suddenly into heavy industrial area of docks and refineries.

The pilot book, the chart and the almanac each give conflicting advice on what the yacht should do…the pilot says either east or west side but keep out of main channel; the chart shows the track for yachts clearly in the west channel and Reeds Almanac says keep to the East! We’re coming from the West so opt for West channel. A large tanker is given permission to leave by the harbour authority over the radio and we decide to cross rapidly to East channel just as a pilot boat speeds up very close to head us out East. We wave cheerily and comply. He doesn’t wave back! The tugs are busy nudging and nosing the huge tanker…and we keep clear.

Only a tug passing by in a hurry to Pembroke Dock bothers us…

…until we pass under the Cleddau Bridge and then….another world. The refineries and docks are hidden from view and all is beautiful river, with trees and woods tumbling down to the banks and occasional lines of moored yachts and other assorted small craft.

We pick up a mooring buoy belonging to Rudders Boatyard just down river from our friend Madeline at Llangwm and having given Heydays a cursory tidy up …we sleep in the cockpit in the sun.

This is Heydays’ home for a couple of months as we all have commitments over the summer, although will be visiting to explore on several occasions hopefully. It is difficult to imagine a more peaceful spot and the sun goes down (after a pint or two at the Jolly Sailor)

with some more focaccia and cheese (OK and some rum…) and the sound of curlews to take us to bedtime….

Footnote: We have a rough plan for September to re-cross the Irish sea to explore a bit of southern Ireland and then cross to the Scillies for a week or so, before working our way home to Lymington along the south coast. Home by end of October is a broad plan…we’ll see.

 

Actually, as two old blokes we have no idea of the girls 🙂 …but while James flies home for family stuff like daughter and granddaughter birthdays, Chris joins John for a few days. They’ll fill in the rest including close encounters with the Caribbean Princess…

Thursday dawns clear and cool. James has left to celebrate lovely Phoebe’s 2nd birthday, and Chris is flying out to join me for a long promised return visit to the fair city.  Time for John to sample some more of Dublin’s public transport system and pick up Chris from the airport – would it match the integration and friendliness of Orkney?  I need not have worried, it worked like clockwork – a good welcome to Dublin.  We dropped off the baggage at Poolbeg YC, and a short walk later we were on the LRT to the centre in time for (another!) lunch at Sweetman’s, using pre-purchased weekly passes.  Lively and bustling streets provided much entertainment – we stood entranced by the nonchalant skill of a drayman flicking barrels off the truck onto a cushion so that the barrel rolled precisely across the road unerringly towards his colleague waiting to guide it down the cellar chute. The traffic seemed to take it in its stride. So much to see that we only just made it to the snug at Lotts – a diminutive and wonderfully quaint bar – in time to meet friends Sue and Dave from Malahide.  Back late pleasantly tired, but entranced by the non-stop activity on the river by Poolbeg  we sat out in the cockpit for quite some time unwilling to turn in!

Heydays Friday 30th June – Dublin

Dave had taken the morning off work and engaged tour guide mode! We had a fascinating drive through the by-ways to and from Dún Laoghaire, including a great look around the James Joyce museum, dropping us off after lunch at

Kilmainham Gaol.  This time we were ‘Just Visiting’ – but the visit was quite sobering imagining the lives of those incarcerated there, and the political and cultural values in the UK at that time which put them there.  Choosing to walk back to the centre rather than jumping on a bus we somehow deviated from the direct route and ended up outside Lotts snug again, at which point dinner seemed the only sensible option, followed by the ever dependable LRT home.

Heydays Saturday 1st July

 

Wanting to explore the north arm of Dublin Bay, and waking to blue skies, we took the LRT and railway to Howth.  A spot of tourist and harbour seal watching from the harbour wall helped develop keen appetites. Spoiled for choice, we settled on wonderful thick haddock soup and freshly baked bread at a market stall. Then it was time to take the train to nearby Malahide – attractive and well-heeled with a great beach and views out to sea.  After trying unsuccessfully to get into the Joyce which had by now appeared on my kindle and a walk around the castle grounds, we enjoyed an early dinner and were back in the big city in time for an evening walk around Temple bar. What an amazing atmosphere – much laughter,music and warm, friendly people.   Chris is loving the Dublin accents!

Heydays Sunday 2nd July

 

Last full day in Dublin – time to see more of the city – so the hop-on/ off bus proved ideal, taking the full circle with a witty, charming and informative driver with his own brand of spin, although we had intended getting off en route….. Round 2 ding ding – this time we stopped to explore St Stephen’s Green, Trinity College and Temple Bar in daylight, stopping to enjoy much Irish hospitality. We just had time to walk to the National Concert Hall for a rousing performance by the Irish National Radio

Orchestra.  Another full day, once again sitting out on our return watching all the buzzing activity on the Liffey.  From cranes that sprang into action moving cargo and lit up like Christmas trees, to trucks ferrying boxes, crates and containers to and from the port, activity was constant.  Ships that arrived at 2300 would turn with precision, dock and be unloaded and gone by morning – it never stopped!

Monday 3rd July

 

The last day began about 0430,  with a low rumbling sound that we felt before we heard it.  Chris jumped up not realising what was going on, but John had recognised the reversing propellers and thrusters of something very large and not very far away.  We watched in fascinated and slightly horrified silence as the Captain of the Caribbean Princess  executed a smooth 360 pivot turn right next to Heydays. Strictly Come Dancing here he comes!  The photos hardly do justice to something that large manoeuvring closer and closer to within 20m of Heydays with no tugs in attendance.

All to soon it was time to welcome James back on board from Phoebe’s birthday celebrations, give Sue a quick tour of Heydays, and say farewell to Chris who would spend the rest of the day with Sue before flying back home to Southampton.  A quick top up of the tanks and we were off to Milford Haven, pursued round both sides of the bay by Sue and Chris trying to find the best vantage points for viewing our departure!

A vibrant and very friendly city with a fantastic transport system and so much more history and culture yet to explore, serviced by a central, friendly, no-frills yacht club marina – we’ll be back again ere long!

 

Tides here (as everywhere, but more so here) dictate everything and we slip out of the marina on  the noon high tide. The late June sun was doing as it should and we had a decent breeze from the North West to see us on our way. With the tide racing out past Anglesey, we were making indecent haste and speeds over the ground of nearly 11 kts kept us well ahead of schedule into Dublin… we were planning to arrive in the early morning light to see us safely up a very busy Liffey and onto our berth at Poolbeg Yacht Club.

As the afternoon wore on, we passed several big cargo boats waiting for a tide into Liverpool and then crossed the main shipping lane round the north west tip of Anglesey. In the early evening we entered Irish territorial waters, but refrained from breaking into Danny Boy or even the rum. Instead, we celebrated with a couple of Pizzas and some coffee to keep us reasonably watchful into the early hours. With the wind continuing from the northwest, we reconciled ourselves to a landfall in darkness….and mugged up on the lights and route in across the bay and up the Liffey.

We entered the bay at midnight to the accompaniment of a light drizzle which became steadily worse and from behind us to add to the joy. The chimneys of the Poolbeg power station could be seen from miles away, even in a rain-filled midnight sky and we focused doggedly on them for what seemed like hours, willing them to come closer.

A pilot boat speeding out to an as yet unseen ship in the bay heralded a slightly anxious final hour up the river. We established radio contact with the harbour authority and were told to keep well to the south of the deep water channel. Fortunately ‘big boat’ also heard us and was aware that we were there which was some comfort when they appeared out of the gloom about half a mile behind us. We finally docked at around 2am after an exhilarating sail across the Irish sea (our third crossing so far!) and sat up for an hour just winding down with a glass or two (we deserved it…).

Footnote: The following morning showed just how busy the port is…and how close our mooring was to the big boats, they looked very big and we felt very small, especially as they were turning round…(more of that in the next post).

Final footnote: The old dock area of Dublin is changing rapidly and is unrecognisable since James and Yee Tak were last here with friends Graham and Madeline on their boat My Foolish Heart. Fond memories of happy times, but Graham is sadly no longer with us and My Foolish Heart lies somewhere in Scotland…

 

This is a chance to relax and catch up on some general messing around in boats. A sunny day sees us happily fettling, mending and moving things around…tough life huh? We wander into town as the afternoon wears on to find that we’ve moved back a few centuries and the medieval festival is in full swing, although we’re not sure if t shirts, tight white trousers, high heels and bouncers (on the doors!) is completely authentic. The medieval banquet looks great complete with candles and wooden platters, but we settle in to the Blue Bell for some live medieval music complete with hurdy gurdy…and electic 6 string base guitar! James is the party-pooper however as he is clearly not into what amounts to a drunken ceilidh!

The tides here are huge and the sand/mud banks become all too apparent as the water rushes out. Not a place to go aground, even in our bilge keeler.

We repeat the process on Sunday (not the drunken ceilidh) having shown John’s grandchildren around the boat and it is certainly a great sight with all the jesters, jousters (truly great horse-riding and hard knocks), donkeys and men on stilts, all under the imposing walls of Edward 1’s castle designed to subdue the Welsh…

This would be a good festival to come back to and the town is enchanting even without plastic swords and chain-mail.