A Summer Holiday In Alderney & Carteret

    

  Crew:  Lynda, then Derek & Steve

 

Saturday

The first weather forecast wasn’t encouraging for a trip to Alderney, high pressure and strong easterlies were the order of the day. The night before we were due to leave we called the Harbour Master at  Braye who confirmed the prognosis, the local forecast was for a force six north easterly with gusts of 35 knots. Not surprisingly there was plenty of space; only 20 of the 70 odd moorings were occupied.

With the holiday traffic, the journey down to Beaulieu and Alize took longer than expected. The plan had been to go to Lymington on Saturday so we could leave early in the morning on Sunday in order to arrive in Braye before the evening set in. Some careful tidal planning had shown that we could have a couple of nights in Carteret as well as some time in Alderney before making our way back to Cherbourg where we were going to leave Alize and take the ferry home.

It was a glorious, bright sunny but breezy afternoon on the river. More attractive there than an enforced stay in Lymington now that Sunday night in Alderney was out of the question. Hopefully things would be better by Monday evening if the forecast held true. The river was busy with lots of boats churning up and down but by evening they had all found somewhere else to go and once again we had the river to ourselves with the oystercatchers and terns for company. As the high tide turned and started to flow out our bows changed direction and soon were pointing into the sun providing us with wonderful views up river to Ginns farm or astern, down river towards Cowes. Both lit brilliantly by the warm light of the setting sun. The breeze moderated creating perfect conditions for a couple of classic yachts and a folkboat to make their way up river; just right too for a leisurely run in  the tender to the club for one of Roberts fine dinners. A relaxing way to end the day and the appropriate antidote to a busy week.

Sunday

A windless, bright and sunny morning greeted us on the river as we woke. Absolute peace and quiet with only the birds making a sound, at least early in the morning. With a modest trip to Lymington in the offing and a foul tide until mid afternoon there was no pressure to rush. Taking the tender back was inconvenient, low water meant that it was impossible to land at the end of, or navigate any part of, the creek. It had to the pontoon and inevitably a long haul up the walkway back to the dingy park.

We eventually set off at 11 am in the hope of getting to Lymington in time to visit the chandleries. We wanted to get a new mooring hook to facilitate tying up at Alderney, still having memories of the difficulties we experienced earlier in Langston Harbour fresh in our minds. It was busy going downriver, everyone had slept in and was now desperate to get somewhere or other, the Solent was just the same. It was a shame there was so little wind, those going in the opposite direction could drift with the tide, or motor or go backwards. The tide is slackest on the northern shore so that’s where we stayed, hugging the shallows to cheat the tide as much as we dared to. The coast looked wonderful, first the little sailing club at Needs Ore Point, later the isolated houses, one of which had to be Robert’s.  Off Newtown River we saw a familiar shape, it looked like and was a Storm 33 beating in the opposite direction. As she came near we could make out her name, it was “Meltem” the yacht that we had spent many happy years sailing in. She looked very smart, well equipped and we were pleased to see that she was clearly now in good hands. Passing the barrage opposite Hampstead Ledge we soon came to the  starters hut off the entrance to the Lymington river; we had reached our destination  6 miles away in good time, even with a foul tide. Negotiating the inevitable ferries and sailing dinghies we made our way through the entrance of the river past the moorings, round the bends as it changed from being an expanse of salt marshes and became a river, past the familiar wave screen and into the busy protected part of the river where all the moorings are and our berth at the Berthon Marina.

There was plenty of time to get into town for the mooring hook and the few stores we had omitted from the list such as vital supplies of herbal tea; there was even time to recover from our exertions in the heat at one of the high street pubs. Having finally sorted everything out and really ready to cross the channel we had a quick visit to the Royal Lymington Yacht Club before a quiet dinner on board and an early night.

Monday

We got up at 4am, as planned, just as light was starting to appear. The ferries were at their overnight berths quietly sleeping. Everything was strangely silent with the lightest of breezes to ruffle the surface of the river. We soon headed off passing the first ferry of the day full of lorries making

its way from Yarmouth. It was a wonderful morning with the sun rising as we passed Yarmouth, a crystal clear morning with just a few like minded yachts for company. Slipping through Hurst narrows we had a stunning view of the fortifications and lighthouse in the cool light of the early morning, so much brighter but just as atmospheric as at sunset.

In the Needles channel with the full force of the tide beneath us we made excellent progress and were soon passing the Needles light into the open sea past the clear water mark. From then on it was just a matter of setting course and keeping a watch; with so little wind and so far to go there was little prospect of a sail, at least for the time being. There was not a lot to see apart from the Island and then the Dorset coast gradually disappearing behind us as we are set west by the tide. The only incident that kept us alert was the fast ferry from Poole bound for Cherbourg that seemed to be heading straight for us from behind on a constant bearing; all we could do was hold our course, naturally it did eventually turn away but it was a little unnerving to say the least.

The shipping lanes were relatively quiet, we didn’t have to alter course at all. That said, there were enough ships to keep an eye on so we waited until we reached the centre reservation before having a relaxed lunch. Motoring may not be as satisfying as sailing but one of our number certainly prefers it and on a day like this it was quite pleasant. The navigation and needs of passage making, with hourly fixes and a sprinkling of sun sights prevent it from being too boring. Once finally clear of the east going lane we had a slow plod against the tide southwards, so different from the 7+knots we were making over the ground with the tide behind. The visibility was not great so it wasn’t possible to see the coast and the Island of Alderney until we were less than 10 miles away. Gradually the smudge on the horizon became clearer and the lighthouse emerged around the light flashing regularly to show its position. Eagerly we watched the Island become more defined and recognised all the familiar features of the north coast as they became clearer as we followed two other yachts into the harbour of Braye.

With a strong tide setting us across the entrance we followed the transit between the white cone and St Anne’s Church to take us safely in. It was fairly full by then, just two moorings free by the furthest end of the breakwater, we took no 47, just by the channel marker. It might be a bit bumpy but at least it would be quiet. The new mooring device worked a treat so without any bother we were firmly attached to the buoy in no time, single handed. Tempted by the prospect of going ashore we quickly sorted the boat out and called for the water taxi. This was a minor challenge as, being rather old fashioned, they use channel 37 which we didn’t have on the portable. Eventually we worked out that it corresponded to M1 on the main fixed VHF, typical of Alderney!

Ashore we headed straight for the harbour office to  complete our immigration and customs declaration and

thank them for their help earlier; fortunately the forecast now was relatively favourable but over the weekend we heard that there had been a chronic shortage of hotel rooms for yacht crews tired of the poor conditions in the harbour. Venturing down the main Street of Braye we were rather dismayed to find that it was one great big building site. The quaint old hotel was being re-built on the left and to the right lots of flats were being constructed. Worse still the “Divers” pub was closed for renovation. The only pub open was the Moorings which was full of loud and rather scruffy  builders so we retreated to the sailing club for a subdued pint before returning, a bit disappointed to Alize where we had a quiet dinner and night after what had been a long, if not arduous, day.

Tuesday

Although we had taken the effort to pay the night before, the Harbour Master (New Girl!) insisted on disturbing us early in the morning, just what we wanted to avoid! Getting up a bit earlier had its compensations and soon the inflatable was in the water and we made our way ashore in what had become quite bumpy and wet conditions. The steadily increasing breeze had raised the light swell we had experienced overnight to a chop that didn't suite our freeboard of only six inches.

With the dingy safely tied up we headed out of the building site that was Braye as quickly as we could to walk round the North Eastern end of the Island and back to St Anne’s. The buildings may have changed but the beach hadn’t, neither had the familiar landmarks of the fort and the football club. Saye Bay sparkled in the sunshine with its enticing but deserted beach surrounded by dangerous rocks, so characteristic of Alderney. Our path took us by the great light that had led us to the Island the day before which was steadily sending out its warning flashes even though it was bright sunlight when we walked past. There was an enchanting path to follow that leads past the forts to Longis Bay that provided stunning views of rocks, bays and forlorn fortifications with the surging white waters of the Race as a backdrop. The heather was in full flower so the banks were in bloom together with lots of delicate blue flowers; together they attracted butterflies scattered like confetti along with bees bustling from one flower to another.

There was a yacht at anchor in Logis Bay, clearly an attractive spot to wait for the tide to turn with plenty of room to swing and a fine backdrop. The beach was a broad expanse of light gold sand, as clean as it ever gets, forming a suntrap in front of the massive concrete sea wall. It would have been ideal for any family holiday but amazingly there were only two families, it was almost deserted and such a contrast to the beaches the other side of the channel. Longis Road was a long slog up the hill past the little golf course with it’s friendly clubhouse, clearly it was Ladies day as there were only female players out on the course.

After a quick drink we decided to abandon the evening meal at the First and Last in favour of lunch at the Georgian House Hotel; at the back there’s a lovely garden overlooked by a really pleasant dining room, all too tempting! It was good to be out of the sun for a relaxing lunch. The food was excellent if a bit limited and the service did suffer due to the garden’s popularity on such a hot day. The pork belly & salad was particularly well prepared, as was the warm salad with chicken and bacon.

St Anne’s is a pretty town having a strong French influence but still very British which was evident from the detail and decoration of the little shops and quaint houses. French house names, very British contents.  Avoiding cars was more difficult, not what you would expect on such as small island; there were lots of new 4x4’s and builders vans all going far too fast. Some new money must have come into the Island but there were still plenty of old cars with a low AY___ numbers who always seemed to be the first to give way on the narrow roads. Eventually it was time to make our way down the hillside to Braye and meander around the old harbour. Pity anyone who wanted to fill their water tanks as the hosepipe ban was strictly being enforced by the chandler and fuel supplier on the quay, using plastic containers would have been hard work!

Once back on board there was just enough time to relax in the sunshine before it set, get everything ready for the trip tomorrow to Carteret then settle down for an early night. Unfortunately this proved to be rather disturbed, the wind really picked up by midnight giving us a taste of what it had been like earlier with a strong north easterly. Even with a long line to the mooring Alize swung around quite violently in addition to the up and down motion as she rode the swell coming in from the Channel.

Wednesday

A civilised start, 6am for a 7am departure; timed so that we would arrive at Carteret by Midday, just before the tide had turned and as soon as there was sufficient water in the river to enter safely. Gingerly following the transit out of the harbour we had cleared the breakwater and its underwater obstructions then headed out into the Swinge. The transit between the end of the breakwater and Fort L’etoc kept us clear of the rocks before we head southwest towards Guernsey. With the tide sluicing past we wanted to get well clear of rock called Pierre D’ Vraic before heading east to the French Coast. There is another transit, a cone that can be lined up with either side of a fort to keep clear of this isolated hazard which lies right on the rum line between Alderney and Guernsey. Incredibly two large Dutch yachts head for St Peter Port were heading straight for the rock. Only two cables off we saw breaking water over the rock which only had a metre of tide over it at that time. These yachts, oblivious of the danger missed it by a couple of boat lengths; unfortunately there was little we could do in the time available.

Once well clear of the rock the course was set to 140 and in steady but light winds we tried to sail but after an hour with insufficient progress to arrive in time to make the tidal window at Carteret so we reluctantly started the Iron sail again and in a flat sea were soon making 7knots. Halfway across the visibility was good enough to have clear views of Alderney, Sark and Jersey but it was deteriorating fast not that that was a major concern with the little traffic about. With 10 miles to go the French courtesy flag was hoisted to the sound of the Marseilles being sung to mark the occasion.

With French waters came lobster pots, it was vital to keep a good watch for these, as well as the fishing boats navigating at random over the glassy surface. Soon it was apparent that the coast was not far away as we were attacked by swarms of flies and fleas. The wind then started to fill in from the south but soon died whilst a hazy sun tried to break out of the clouds without success. There is a really long beach north of Cameret where a group of people on horses were cantering over the sands, how delightful. Just when Cap Cameret was clear ahead and we were nearly there the wind really picked up from the west and built rapidly to 20 knots, if only it had happened earlier and not as we were about to drop the sails!

With just over an hour to high water our timing was perfect so we were able to enter immediately by following the two red and green posts either side of the south facing entrance which forms a transit. This is well out to sea at the end of two long retaining walls; at the end there’s a breakwater of rocks so an S bend is needed to make the entrance. Inside we followed the wall as the pilot said that was where the deepest water was, later we found this was not so any more; it was over the other side. Fortunately it didn’t matter much as we had at least 0.8 metres beneath the keel as we made our way past the fishing boats and the village to the marina. There the sill was clearly marked by another pair of green and red posts; one had a gauge showing over 3 metres of water over the sill much to our relief. Inside the harbourmaster welcomed us in from his bright red dory and led us directly to a vacant berth. He was right, there’s lots of space so we were spared the joy of rafting on the visitors pontoon at the far end. It was delightful to be back in the lovely seaside port, a bit like Weymouth with it’s combination of fishing boats and beaches but very different in terms of style. Fresher and better kept than St Vaast, less crowded too.

Whilst having lunch, the French yacht from the neighbouring pontoon returned from a short day sail with a catalogue of woes. First one of the ladies lost her expensive sunglasses overboard, we then realized that the headsail had been shredded by the “30 knot” winds outside. It’s certainly likely to have been  a bit windy as many black clouds were approaching but 30kn?

Given that we had had a fairly early start we didn’t exert ourselves too much that afternoon concentrating on making the right reservation for dinner. A cautious choice, the Hermitage which overlooks the fish dock, a restaurant we had visited last time. It turned out to be excellent in every respect; plat de fruit de mer, cod, cheese and tart au pomme all for 19 Euros.

 Thursday

Lay day and also market day, by good fortune, so we’re not only able to have fresh croissants for breakfast but are also able to replenish the ships stores. It’s a large market with lots of food stalls as well as the Maroquinnerie, clothing and other household things. There were mountains of mussels to start off with but they soon disappeared in a couple of hours.

To coincide with the market there is a little “tourist train” scheduled to run back and forth to Portbail early in the morning and at lunch time. Those who want a change from the Wednesday market at Portbail can go to Carteret and vice versa. It’s a very French train built in the 1930’s, old but still equipped with sliding doors and pulled by a substantial diesel locomotive. It was very full on the way to Portbail with lots of excited children and the racks overflowing with bags of produce. What proved to be particularly popular was to order lunch from the buffet car on the way there, either baguettes or crepes accompanied by plenty of tinned beer. It takes ages to travel the couple of miles along the track as at every road (and there are lots) one of the crew have to jump out and wave a red flag to stop the traffic before the train can cross.

Portbail is well worth the visit, even if a necessarily brief one, before the train returns. It certainly does dry, when we arrived it was low water and the sea was nowhere to be seen. There was just enough time to browse the shops in the main street, get some lunch and have a quick drink in one of the pretty restaurants overlooking the bridge and harbour. The train back was almost empty; we had the carriage to ourselves and enjoyed lunch in peace and quite apart from the conductor who could not stop joking and explaining what we were passing even though nobody was interested.

That afternoon we walked across the beach at the end of the harbour and up to the “Sentier de Douaniers” (yes, yet another one) that leads around Cap Cameret to the beach we had seen on the way in. The local beach was crowded but pleasant and sociable, so nice to see so many people enjoying themselves; on the other side the long expanse of sand was almost empty.

The views were stunning, either over the river to Barneville Plage or north where the rolling breakers stretch for miles. It’s only a short climb up the cliff from a little ruined chapel to the lighthouse where you feel on top of the world, well this part anyway. Returning to Carteret took us along the “Cornishe”, a high road passing the classic Normandy style houses with their high pitched roofs and eves. At its peak there was a picture postcard view of the shops, moorings and marina in the distance.

The force of the tides never ceases to amaze, in the morning the river was quite dry (it dries +4m) but by the afternoon it was flooded again with large yachts going in and out, there must have been a tidal range of at least 7 meters. If low water is at a convenient time you can walk over the river to Barneville across a causeway just upstream of the marina.

It was a perfect day with brilliant sunshine and blue skies but they all have to end sometime and we had to leave the following day so we booked an early meal at the Hotel du Cap which was good but busy; as a result we still didn’t get back as early as we would have liked but it was a really pleasant evening.

Friday

In order to make sure we got a good berth for the following week at Cherbourg we planned to go straight there rather than stop off at Alderney again. High water was a 5am so we left as late as we dared at 5:30 with 0.7m beneath us on a falling tide. Being French Summer time it was dark when we got up so we had to set off with navigation lights on. It soon lightened up as we motored out gently into the morning mist accompanied by several fishing boats but no yachts. Out to sea there was hardly a breath of wind as we headed north across a dead smooth sea at speed.

It didn’t take long to get to Dielette with its nuclear power station as a neighbour. On the way we had a real treat, first one dolphin came alongside then a whole pod of 8 or more came racing towards us. For a few magic moments they played around the boat in and out of the wash until they tired of us and disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived.

According to the tidal charts there should have been enough time to get to Cap de la Hague, go through the race at stack water and get clear before the adverse tide really set in. In practise it seemed to set an hour before the predicted time so we really had to struggle for several hours with the great light abeam. At times we were even going backwards as Alize was jostled by the fierce currents and overfalls. After several anxious moments and two hours with an average speed of under a knot we finally broke free of the worst of the tide and were able to head east towards Cherbourg. By this time it was lunchtime and the sun had burned away the mist that had hampered visibility during the morning The radar had been particularly useful, not only to confirming our position but in keeping us a safe distance off the coast and it’s hazards.

Surviving the race called for a celebration so out came the wine to go with the quiche we had for lunch. Conditions steadily improved as the sun warmed and our speed increased steadily from 2 to 3 then to 4 knots as the tide progressively became weaker. We had to avoid a stationary ship ahead showing a ball, diamond, ball visual signal showing it was limited in it’s ability to manoeuvre. It turned out to be one of the “Phares et Balises” ships moored to a cardinal mark whilst the crew enjoyed a spot of fishing on the deck; all very French, one wondered what they should have been doing.

With a good turn of speed it didn’t take long before we could see the Forts and Outer Rade of the great harbour in the distance. What seemed like moments later we were making our entrance into the outer harbour amongst yachts day sailing in the miles of protected water. Having only managed to sail for about an hour our first call was to the refuelling pontoon to take on some diesel. There we found that they’d changed the visitors pontoons for a while so we were able to go straight to an excellent berth on a pontoon nobody seemed to know about, K pontoon. It was

fortunate that we arrived by 4pm as just afterwards HMS Charger , a small patrol boat, came alongside the fuelling pontoon blocking it for a lengthy period as lots of formalities including an inspection of the charts by the harbour authorities was carried out.

Although it hadn’t really been hard work it had been a long day so we planned to settle down for a quiet evening with dinner on board; some fine sea bream we’d bought in the market the previous day. This was not to be as it became increasingly crowded and evident that there was something going on which proved to be a grand fireworks display, so nice for them to welcome us! This started as soon as it was properly dark, which was after 11pm and was, indeed, spectacular. All the mortars were placed on the grass just above where we had berthed so we had a grandstand view with glasses of chilled wine in easy reach. Unfortunately this spectacle was marred by a French yacht inexplicably ramming the fine Belgian yacht moored adjacent to us. The helm must have been watching the fireworks instead of where he was going. We did what we could to help the really nice couple on board who had come from Oostende. They had designed and built the remarkable 38 ft yacht themselves, all very solid and fit for serious sailing. They urged us to look them up if we returned to Oostende for their festival of the sea which is held annually at the beginning of June.

Saturday

It was very cloudy in the morning and after a few hours it became thundery and poured with rain. The low pressure system that had been threatening all week had finally caught up with us. Successions of minor jobs were completed and some of the lockers cleaned out to pass the morning. Keen to get ashore we braved the storms to get to the port and had a lunch in one of the brasseries whilst we watched the rainwater sweeping past outside in torrents.

Fortunately it cleared up just as quickly as it had started allowing us to go out without a soaking. We only venture as far as the “Citi de Mer” to see “La Redoubtable” the nuclear missile submarine that was the French deterrent in the 70’s and 80’s by the magnificent old transatlantic passenger terminal.

By evening we had the clear blue skies once more that had characterised the week so in bright sunshine we celebrated our last night of the holiday at La Vauban, our favourite restaurant overlooking the old harbour.

 Sunday

A sad time but all holidays have to come to and end; reluctantly we pack up, tidied up and left for the ferry terminal to return home until the following Friday. The trip back was on the fast ferry but soon after leaving Cherbourg the visibility deteriorated and we were in thick fog. The whole deck resonated as the huge foghorn blasted out its warning; it would not have been a good time to be sailing back! It’s a scary thought being in the path of one of those monsters as they roar across the channel at over 40 knots, totally dependent upon their radar and whatever reflectors yachtsmen care to use.

The upside, of course, was that we were soon back on the English side of the channel and entered Poole harbour which was not without incident. Just off Browsea island we past a conventional ferry in the narrow channel amidst a mass of small craft before mooring at the commercial dock. From Poole it was only a short (but expensive) train journey and taxi trip to Ginns Farm and our car. Unfortunately we’d inadvertently left the hazard lights on so the battery was very flat but with an obliging club member's help we soon got started and able to return home.

145 miles in total, shame about the amount of motoring but still a wonderful holiday. By leaving the return cross channel trip out we had been able to go further as well as be more relaxed, definitely a good arrangement.

Friday Next

Several anxious days had been spent monitoring the weather forecasts on the internet; the hot spell was due to end at some time and we certainly wanted to avoid the fog we encountered on the way home the previous weekend. On the Friday the forecast became quite favourable, the 34 degree temperatures had been washed away by torrential thunderstorms and the visibility was fine, forecast to be over 5 miles. The wind was predicted to be Force 3-4 on Saturday but looked like being a southerly, not ideal for a good sail but unlikely to stop us getting Alize home.

The trip to Cherbourg was fated; first the Game Fair at Broadlands paralysed the traffic for miles around. The skipper was then was informed by the check in staff that he had the wrong passport. A dash by taxi back to Maidenhead, a bit of luck with the traffic and a convenient fast ferry timing meant that there was only a delay of four hours before being re-united with the crew on Alize. The conditions crossing the channel that time had been perfect, a brisk south-westerly, bright sunshine and crystal clear visibility; if only it could have stayed that way.

Despite a slight delay caused by many of the roads being closed for a cycle race there was still plenty of time for an evening out which started at the Yacht club for a few of their excellent 1664 Blanc Biers; a wheat beer with a hint of lemon, ideal for a hot day. To celebrate overcoming adversity we indulged in another excellent meal at Le Vauban; plat de fruit de mer, monkfish, superb cheeses and a light fruity desert. Wonderful to be back in Cherbourg!

Saturday

We all voted for an early start in order to have a better chance of a good evening in Portsmouth so we left at 5am French time, just as it was getting light. Venus was brilliant in the north-east along with a mass of stars that were soon to disappear as the daylight grew in strength. With our navigation lights on we slipped across the familiar waters past the lights on the Inner Rade then those of the Outer Rade and well clear of hazards. There was little wind so it was motoring for a while at least. This easy start to the passage allowed at least some of the crew to catch up on some sleep.

With the rising sun we were thankful to find that the visibility was indeed quite good, at least we’d be able to see what was going on. Just as well as in what seemed no time at all we were encountering a considerable amount of east bound shipping in the separation zone which was relatively close to land. After a hectic start it soon settled down and whilst we had enough traffic to keep us busy there was nothing to cause any real concerns as we motored north. It was the same in the west going lane a few miles further on, just a couple of rogue ships going in the wrong direction to keep us on our toes.

Regrettably the wind didn’t pick up enough to move us at more than a couple of knots. It proved to be rather fickle, initially an easterly, then from the south but never enough to get us to Portsmouth for the evening. Once clear of the shipping the cliffs of the Isle of Wight came into view on the horizon, progress with the favourable tide had been swift! As with all things this had to reverse and by mid afternoon with the English coast in full view we slowed down as the tide built up from the north east. Fortunately by the time it really turned we were only 8 miles from Bembridge Ledge but progress was so slow that the island seemed permanently fixed to port as we slowly crawled past Ventnor, Shanklin, and the Culver cliffs. There the Princessa cardinal finally came into view together with that marking the ledge in the distance. Inexorably we progressed past both marks with the spring tide really sluicing past and resisting progress. Once we’d rounded the ledge the stream was behind us and we shot off to Portsmouth at a speed that made us look like we had been standing still earlier. Being the start of Cowes week Haslar Marina was full but there was plenty of space in Gosport marina a bit further on. With a berth booked we switched the VHF to channel 11 and listened to the Queen’s Harbourmaster in case any really big ships were coming out. Fortunately QHM wasn’t busy so we entered at the head of a small group of yachts all going the same way. For some reason they all seemed to be in a hurry and were quite ill mannered coming unnecessarily close before peeling off to Haslar – welcome back to England!

The plan had worked out well; we moored up at 7pm in good time for a few pints at the pub around the corner followed by as much as we could eat at the Chinese restaurant overlooking the harbour. Not quite up to the standard of the night before but this was, after all, Gosport! The front that really did end the dry spell came though that evening with many showers of much needed rain.

Sunday

After a good nights sleep we topped up the tanks alongside some cheery Chinese fishermen and set off early before the tide set against us. Another clear day, typical cold sector weather bringing some wind at last. Having had to leave at low water we took care leaving the harbour following the transits out marking the Swashway Channel that the ferries use. We were soon in a steady 10 knot westerly and had a great sail over to Ryde before going along the coast where the tide was slackest up to Wooton and eventually to Osborn Bay where we anchored for a late breakfast. The crew’s trip to the supermarket had been particularly fruitful enabling us to have a grand meal of sausages, eggs and ham followed by cheese and fruit; definitely an all day breakfast!

Whilst at anchor the various fleets of competing yachts came together and the racing started, soon the horizon was a mass of sails, a great sight. With the turn of the tide we upped anchor and headed over to Beaulieu. The wind really had built up by this time to a solid 5 gusting 6, if only we’d had that the day before. The wind over tide conditions off Cowes meant that it was quite lumpy to put it mildly, making it an even  greater spectacle with all its tents, spectator boats and all the paraphernalia of a major regatta. Crossing by the Prince Consort cardinal there was a fleet of 40+ keel boats strung out along the opposite coast, fortunately even the stragglers had moved by the time we were aligned with the light and the entrance to the Beaulieu river.

All things have to come to an end and eventually we moored up back again once more at Ginns Farm were we were taken ashore by John, the boatman, who was off to Carteret the following day with his family, we hoped he enjoyed it as much as we did!

Morlaix, It May Have Taken Two Years But Was Worth It!

 

Crew:  Team Alize

Saturday

 It was the most pressing of our cruising aspirations, we’d tried to get there two years earlier but the weather had been against us. We’d been stymied the previous year so this year it was Morlaix or bust. The day before we were due to leave everything looked good, a well prepared passage plan and a favourable forecast.
First thing Saturday, everything went to plan, we left in good time, got the parts we needed from Lymington and even arrived at Ginns at almost the same time. What’s wrong, everyone even had their passports! The weather seemed fine, cloudy but clear with a light breeze so we got on board with the traditional mountain of food and gear but even that was put away by 11am. Our planned departure time was 12 so we had time for a quiet cup of coffee, as we did our last minute checks and the safely briefing before leaving in an unusually leisurely manner.

In a half hour’s time we were in the Solent but the weather was not as pleasant as it seemed earlier, it was nothing like the forecast or as planned. The expected westerly force 3-4 had changed into a south westerly force 6-7; not good for a trip to Morlaix, over 150 miles away on a bearing of 230 degrees. After putting in a couple of rather reluctant reefs we were making steady progress towards Hurst but much of that was due to the tide rather than Alize’s windward capabilities which were weak in that wind strength. Being full on a Spring tide the current really zipped us along leading the Skipper, on seeing many masts in the murky visibility to momentarily mistake Newtown river for Yarmouth much to the amusement of the crew who immediately awarded the first Malcolm point of the trip.

Thoughts of well over thirty hours of uncomfortable bumping about crossing the channel was universally declared unattractive so the trip was reluctantly re-classified as a shake down cruise and a diversion made to Yarmouth.

Safely tied up in the harbour we reflected on the reality that it was better to be on the inside wishing we were out rather than the outside wishing we were inside. This change of plan turned out to be particularly sensible as it was the first sail of the season and varying amounts of sleep deficiency had built up over the previous week. There were lots of jobs to do so we got stuck into these before going ashore to sample the hospitality of the pubs and becoming ensnared by the newly relocated second hand bookshop. A light dinner at the newly refurbished Wheatsheaf and an early night set us up well for the trip the following day.

Sunday

In the harbour we were surrounded by a number of Bavaria’s best plastic eggshells. Switching on the VHF we were subject to a cacophony, people either misusing the calling channel or doing something silly keeping Channel 16 and the coastguard unnecessarily busy. It was clearly time to leave for less crowded places.

With a brisk easterly, sailing down the Needles Channel was a delight, the light house and cliffs making a memorable backdrop to our departure. That afternoon the tide was west going, so by evening we were well offshore and south of Weymouth Bay as we approached the shipping lanes. With the turn of the tide, our track over the ground changed to due south which was safe to across the lanes; just as we wanted and had planned. Sailing just off the wind, we made about 220 degrees through the water which was fine, at that rate we would be able to make Morlaix on one tack, if it held. 

The East going lanes were not too challenging but we still waited to have dinner on the central reservation, seafood lasagne and peas. The west going lanes were very different, quite a nightmare as the traffic bunched up as it neared the Casquets. At one time soon after midnight in the middle of the lane we had 9 ships to contend with all approaching us at the same time but a varying speeds. Needless to say we went straight across the direction of flow, combining this with the need to make a number of course changes we lost a considerable amount of time. Fortunately the visibility was very good so with a combination of radar set at 8 miles, and visual bearings, we were able to keep out of trouble. It was only when we were five miles off Alderney that we considered it safe to change course and follow the inshore zone past the Casquets. Just before changing course, north of Alderney, we were able to take a good fix on the three great lights of Alderney, Cap de la Hague and Casquets to check our position and so relax a bit. In order to keep north of the Casquets light we had to head due west, directly into the wind so were forced to motor for a while. Tacking in these restricted waters at night with the rocks on one side and a steady stream of traffic on the other was not conducive to a peaceful cruise.

Passing the Casquets light we changed watches which had been arranged on a four hours on fours hours off basis for this trip as conditions were not particularly demanding. This worked well and resulted in a better rest that the 2 hour watches we normally chose. Sunrise was at 4pm and apparently, quite spectacular. By the time the off watch had returned to duty we were sailing along just off the wind in a steady 12-14kn of breeze; Ideal for a breakfast of toasted hot cross buns. Guernsey steadily disappeared from sight on the port quarter and once more we were alone with nothing on the horizon in any direction, very tranquil. The VHF had quietened down, no more pan-pan’s or radio checks, just the occasional short professional call.

The weather was bright and sunny so not at all uncomfortable as the wind picked up to 20, then 25 knots, quite enough to get Alize really moving. With one reef in the main and the Yankee fully furled we were making over 6kn and had a glorious sail just off the wind. The forecast had changed to a North-westerly 5 occasionally 6; being somewhat behind plan this made the entrance to Morlaix in good time potentially difficult. We therefore decided to stop off at Treburden first and make our way in the following day when we would be less tired and had time to negotiate the river. Closing in on Treburden our track took us close to Les Sept Iles in order to clear the reefs around Le Traigoz light. Here, it became rather rough, and the wind did increase further making the theoretically large gap less easy that anticipated to navigate. Later in Treburden we found that the crew on a Storm going the same way from Guernsey had experienced considerable difficulties in conditions that Alize took in her stride.

We were concerned not to arrive too early as entrance was limited by the tide so we eased off and eventually got to Le Crapeau, the mark off the entrance, at about 4pm. Our calculations showed that the earliest time for our entry would be 16:30 to be sure of sufficient water over the sill; with four miles to go it seemed we had got it just right. Turning downwind towards the harbour we could see line after line of breaking waves all looking rather threatening, especially so if we had to turn round and come back. Clearly visible on the port side were masses of white water breaking over the many rocks which did not add to our feelings of comfort.

Trusting the pilot book we continued towards the entrance but still had some anxious moments until we had clearly identified the south cardinal mark which marks the channel between it and the island just seaward of the marina. It would have helped to have had a few marks further out but probably few people would enter in such conditions for the first time. Just to make matters worse, at the moment we were struggling to see the mark, pilot book in hand we were circled by a French Customs Launch.  Although we were expecting a call on channel 16 at any time they were evidently satisfied we were genuine yachtsmen and not smugglers and roared off to trouble someone else.

Once past the Island, entry into the marina of this pretty town was relatively simple; there were good marks, a clearly identified sill and even a tide gauge to confirm our rather cautious tidal calculations. With the traffic lights signalling two way traffic (two greens over a white) we put the open sea behind us and entered the tranquillity and safety of the sheltered harbour. Being early in the season there were many empty visitors berths so we had the pick of the place and soon moored up in time to get to the Capitainary before closing time which meant hot showers! A few beers at a friendly bar with a very accommodating bar maid, convinced us that this would be a good choice to eat that evening; the beers hardly touched the sides as they slid down! We returned without lingering as the evening drew on all too quickly, we had a solid meal of steak and chips followed by a sound nights sleep firmly tied to the pontoon.

Tuesday

We awoke to find a beautiful sunny day with no signs of the cold or the strong stuff we encountered the previous day. A quick walk around town convinced us that this really would be a nice place to be but at the end of May it was definitely out of season. We bought some papers for the forecast, resisted the market due to the immense volume of food on board and had a coffee overlooking the port before reluctantly moving on.

The plan was to leave in the mid morning, motor round to the Lannion River, anchor for lunch, then sail across the Bay to Morlaix where we thought we could get in at about 7:30 pm. The first bit went entirely according to plan; we kept clear of all the rocks and anchored in 9m of water in the Bay of Lannion, a delightful, secluded spot.

We had the anchorage to ourselves so were able to choose a really well sheltered corner of the bay, with more than adequate holding for a few hours over lunch. The anchor was clearly well embedded in the gravel and sand bottom with no signs of dragging; nevertheless we took transits which confirmed we weren’t moving at all.

A light lunch was followed by an hour or more reading, we enjoyed the relative peace and quiet. It was such a contrast to the Solent and all the frenzied activity of the previous couple of days. All too soon though, we had to get moving and rather reluctantly raised the anchor which came out completely clean. It had been nice while it lasted, but now we had to get on our way.

With full sails hoisted and hard on the wind we made a good turn of speed towards the rocks off Primel where we would be able to crack off down to the Baie de Morlaix. Being rather concerned about the many rocks that could lessen our enjoyment we had adopted the practice of plotting fixes every ten minutes when we were in areas where caution was required, adapting the naval practise of 3 minute fixes allowing for our lower speed; this made us feel safer with little extra effort. Naturally we used the GPS much of the time but with the many landmarks it was not difficult to include plenty of compass fixes to confirm the track; after the first few we were plotting tight cocked hats in a couple of minutes.

The wind was not entirely obliging; although we were able to have a splendid sail in the 15knots of wind it would not quite let us clear the rocks on one tack, how tiresome! Passing Primel the wind piped up a bit and the sea state became agitated but we were soon able to ease off and were making over 6 knots through the water directly towards our destination. At that speed, in no time at all, we were approaching La Pierre Noire beacon which marks the approach to the Channel de Treguier which we had chosen as there was plenty of tide to cover the rocks that otherwise present a hazard. The mark was pathetic, just a pole with a tiny topmark, so different from the massive channel marks we could clearly see further on by the islands and potentially a source for concern if you were not familiar with the area. With sails down so we could manoeuvre easily we edged towards the Ile Noire Light where we turned to go up the river. Tom Cunliffe was right in his pilot book; the channel was much less onerous that it had appeared on the charts. With two pairs of solid stone markers it was not difficult to stay in the wide channel. The Chateau de Toureau (Built to keep the Brits out!) was clearly identifiable, a massive stone structure standing on its own in the middle of the Islands and reefs.

From Ile Noire we entered the estuary, sheltered from the boisterous following sea that we had experienced earlier. The tranquil nature of this land locked but still very open water was a real contrast. The channel markers were fairly clear so we had little difficulty in following the deep area into the river itself and the little hamlet of Le Dorduff where the river splits in two.  Now in the river proper we carried on past the larger village of Locquenole where houses line the banks and the channel gets quite confusing due to the many moorings scattered around the limited amount of deep water.

It really was very beautiful, reminiscent of the Fal with steeply sloping, wooded hillsides bordering the river. It must have been here that the Men of Bristol got massacred by the returning menfolk of Morlaix after they had successfully sacked the town but stayed too long to sleep it off amongst the trees. After a mile or so the river narrows and there is a peculiar system of transits to keep you in the supposedly deep water. This turned out to be alarmingly shallow in places and not at all tolerant of the helm drifting off course. With three quarters of an hour to spare before the next lock opening we moored up on the rough stone quayside, not the most forgiving of moorings with heavy chains dangling from the top which we used to stop us being blown towards the Lock by the gusty wind behind us.

 On checking out the visitor’s berths we found 

that there was an excellent floating restaurant “Le Sterne” just past the lock on the inside which was prepared to stay open for us at that late hour. With a celebratory glass of wine the minutes soon past and we were making our way through the lock into the basin. We’d failed earlier to get to Morlaix so there was a lot of jumping around and waving of hands to celebrate our success; to our surprise this was reciprocated by a group of people watching us make our way it, it was probably best though, that we didn’t use the flares Ellen McArthur style.

The meal was outstanding, excellent seafood in innovative combinations such as monkfish and andouille. A great start to our stay in the town we had wanted to visit for such a long time. Even better, on the way back to Alize, we were able to have a couple of glasses of “Coreffe” the only beer in France that we felt was worth going out of your way for and is native to Morlaix.

Wednesday

Lay day! This was premeditated so there were some rather heavy heads in the morning due to the excesses of the night before, which had continued until the early hours. Breakfast was a rather subdued affair but at least we did have fresh croissants. Eventually we made it to the attractive and very memorable town dominated by the massive railway viaduct. After a short walk around we settled down for lunch in the “Bistro de Cathy”

Feelying very mellow, we sat outside in the square eating and drinking for a couple of hours. We chose salads, exotique, vegetarian and Landaise; a restaurant in France acknowledging the presence of vegetarians was a new experience for us. Food, service and ambiance were all excellent making in a memorable lunch.

The town is a particularly appealing combination of a sense of history, attractiveness and nice people. They were all easy going, friendly and even drove considerately!. Set in a valley with trees high above us, even above the Viaduct it’s a location never to be forgotten. The architecture is clearly a strength with a variety of timber framed houses and stone buildings including a remarkable church with a blue, star studded ceiling. There seems to be a particularly strong sense of civic pride, its well looked after with trees planted thoughtfully along the main roads to make them attractive. The backstreets have a variety of interesting little shops and ateliers, a great place to stroll around for a couple of hours.

Tired from our exertions in the heat we just had to recover with a couple more Coreff’s at the bar overlooking the harbour. There are boats in berths of one sort or another along much of the basin which is quite long and clearly had been a busy, industrial place in the past with huge factories that once processed tobacco. Now it's home to a motley selection of craft from the idiosyncratic steel yachts with astro domes that only the French can build to little fishing boats as well as many classic yachts rather than just uniform modern ones.

Back on Alize and with a couple of chores completed we were ready to eat and tried the well recommended “Bleu Marine”, another restaurant that accepted veggies with a deceptively informal atmosphere and a passion for good food.  Breton seafood St Jacques style, Lieu Jeaune or Colin with cheufleur was followed by cheese. This was a highlight of the meal, three carefully selected slices and a ball of camembert ice cream, delicious! It’s pleasant once in a while to have a lazy day and there’s not a much better place than Morlaix for it.

 Thursday

Up early to have a cooked breakfast before lock opening time in preparation for whatever the weather has is store for us over the next two days sail. The forecast is for the high to remain over the UK channel area which means a northerly airflow. Some forecasts say a north-easterly, some a north-westerly; we’ll just have to get out there, see what happens and go where we can get to. The plan is to make for Poole which is about 150 miles on a course of 035 degrees; other options are much less attractive.

We enter the lock in good time accompanied by a couple of other yachts and a motorboat. Right on time the gates open and our little flotilla heads out into the river. Retracing our steps we successfully traverse the shallow bits and keeping religiously to the transits following the winding river in the bright morning sunlight. It’s quite different from our entrance with the opposite side of the river highlighted by the sun, we pass the trees, winding roads and picturesque houses accompanied by nothing but birdsong. Soon the river opens out into the estuary and we get ready to make the transition from being land locked and peaceful to the wide open sea with it’s much more variable moods. The vista of the Islands, rocks and marks that form the entry to Morlaix lies before us with Chateau Toureau right in the centre dominating the approaches. It’s the stuff of post cards and easy to be distracted when we really do need to keep our wits about us to make sure we pass through the Grand Channel safely. Like the Channel de Treguier this is also well marked and easy to follow, especially so in such benign conditions with only 8 knots of wind and a relatively smooth sea.

On leaving the Stolvezen mark to port we are finally clear of the hazards and on our way. Sailing doesn’t prove to be a good option, no matter how hard we try we can only make just over three knots so reluctantly have to motor for a while. Fortunately the wind soon fills in and after a couple of hours are briskly moving along a over five knots with a 10 knot breeze coming from about 320-330 degrees; a North Easterly, perfect! It’s bright and sunny so reading becomes the main activity after we leave the coastline behind us, the incongruous golf ball of the communications museum on the coast near Treburden eventually disappears and le Traigoz and Les Sept Isles slip past to starboard. By late afternoon we are well out of sight of land and completely alone, a wonderful feeling in such perfect conditions and complete a contrast to our usual sailing areas. The fine breeze keeps up all evening together with the sunshine so we celebrate a perfect day’s sail with a beer each before having dinner, pasta al arabbiata. With the onset of twilight we gradually watched the moon, Mars, and then the major stars start to appear in the deep blue sky before tuning into a mass of milky stars studded with brighter ones against the blackness as the light faded.

Switching to night time sailing the first watch had a splendid sail through the sunset and into the night reaching the shipping lanes at about 1pm. Predictably it was busy so there was no alternative but to put the engine on and motor directly across the lanes, straight into the wind. This had been blowing at just over 15knots for the previous two hours so conditions changed from a comfortable sail to become rather lumpy, noisy and uncomfortable slog by comparison. Adding to our displeasure, the tide, which had just turned was now against us making progress towards our goal excruciatingly slow compared to the exciting sail we'd experienced earlier. The channel light ship seemed permanently fixed on our starboard beam for what seemed like hours, and at the time of the night when everyone is at their lowest. Fortunately the traffic was quite light so although there were plenty of ships to watch out for we only had to take avoiding action a couple of times. The clear sky may have meant that it was a bit cold but the visibility was excellent making it a relatively stress free crossing whilst we continued to be mesmerised by the stars out in profusion. It’s so pleasing to see the minor stars like so much dust, a view usually denied on land by light pollution.

With the change of watch at 6am we changed course from crossing the lanes to a more direct heading or 045 degrees straight for Anvil Point. Due to our enforced diversion we were now further away as the crow flies than we were hours earlier before we started to cross the shipping channels. With nearly sixty miles to go we had to hope for a big lift from the tide if we were to get to Poole in time to enjoy the last night of the cruise. Unfortunately, when we could have done with some help, the wind dropped right off and went north, then north east so we ended up having to motor sail close hauled. With the engine just ticking over, under 2000 rpm, it wasn’t objectionable so we made a pleasant and steady 5.5 knots in the bright sunshine that came with the high pressure zone.

Early morning on a cruising yacht is breakfast time and this morning we made sure we didn’t miss out by having a full, all day breakfast with plenty of coffee, a great way of passing the time!

During the morning and early afternoon Portland Bill gradually appeared ahead, passed by to port and finally slipped behind us as we kept a steady course for Anvil Point. Such ideal conditions as these for a spot of celestial navigation could not be missed; a series of fixes on the hour gave position lines within 5 miles of our actual position shown by the GPS as was the midday fix at 13:07 to establish Latitude. The running fix put us 8 miles off, all very satisfying for the skipper but less impressive for the crew who were repeatedly disturbed from their slumbers.

The tide really did give us big push from behind that afternoon and much of the time we were doing over 7 knots over the ground allowing us to make Anvil point just before the tide turned at 15:30; we couldn’t have planned it better if we had tried. Passing the stark white light house on the hillside we had another beer to celebrate safe in the knowledge that Poole was just around the corner but sorry that such a perfect passage was drawing to a close.

Passing Studland we were in a very different world form the solitude we had experienced the other side of the channel; we were anything but alone in Poole Bay, the land of motor boats. This negative turn of events was to seem to become worse when we found that the marina was full even though we could see hardly any masts over the breakwater, Sunseekers had taken over. Fortunately there was plenty of space for Visitors on the Quay and we were able to moor up in splendid isolation. Fixing up a fender board and long lines we were ready for boats to come alongside us but none came. We stayed alone even though many yachts turned round outside the marina, had people forgotten what it was like only a few years ago? Had they forgotten how to moor against a harbour wall?

After a welcome shower and a few beers to refresh the parts that needed refreshing we were able to tackle one of Poole’s best curries.  Indian food Al fresco style has much to commend it in warm weather, the Singa beers went down well and we didn’t miss the inside of the restaurants which turned out to be in mayhem as two hen nights competed to be more outrageous than each other.

Saturday 

Brilliant sunshine (Again) and hardly any wind. Not the best conditions for us to get back or for the Round the Island race which had just started, but it was after all the last leg and we were going home. After dropping off Julian to get back in time for a pressing engagement and taking on fuel and water we headed out to the Chain Ferry at the Harbour entrance. Just as we went through the Brittany Ferry “Barfleur” came in with the Harbour masters launch trying hard but failing to keep the ill behaved mass of little boats out of its way. It gave “Limited in ability to manoeuvre” had a real meaning. The trip across Poole Bay well offshore had more than usual interest as we watched the Race Competitors struggling through Needles channel with very few rounding the light and heading off to St Catherine’s Point. As we approached at 12:30 the majority of the fleet were laid out along the channel and further back into the Solent; a sad spectacle hundreds of boats going nowhere very fast and standing very little chance of completing the race.

To avoid interfering with the fleets, we took the North channel instead. The only difficult bit being at Hurst where the competitors we desperately trying to beat through the adverse tide whilst we were being whisked along with it. Once in the Solent it became much easier as the thermal wind had begun to dominate so what wind there was to be found was at either side with a flat calm of sinking air in the middle. This left us a clear channel to follow allowing us to keep clear of the competitors that were now in deep

trouble, many having put out a kedge and given up for a while.

With the tide and a few jobs to do we soon covered the last few miles and entered the Beaulieu river after making sure we turned into the channel at the right yellow racing mark. This only happened after a bit of confusion by the crew but we soon were heading  into the familiar river entrance with its little lighthouse standing out in the sunlight and the lateral marks spread out either side as if open arms welcoming us in.

Once safely moored up we reflected on a great cruise, just over 350 miles in total, most of it under sail. We had made it to Morlaix, and was it worthwhile!