Team Alize Goes West!

   

Crew:  Julian & Paul

 

Friday

The week. started at the club with a particularly pleasant evening given the unsettled nature of the weather. Everyone was there to enjoy themselves; a crowd in the bar had clearly started to party much earlier and were in full flow.

We’d managed to get moored up on the pontoon although the club was particularly lively with many yachts turning up and getting ready for Cowes week. There were contrasts, an elderly chap with a crew there for the experience rather than competition arrived at the same time as us and gladly moored inside on hearing of our departure plans; a very competitive Sigma 33 came along outside ready to move off and onto a mooring after a couple of hours so that they could get over to Cowes at first light for a last minute scrub and polish.

 It was good to meet up again over dinner at Gins recounting previous trips and looking forward to another week’s sailing. The passage plan was to go to Falmouth as quickly as possible then slowly work our way back stopping off at Fowey to see the Classic Yachts Regatta. The weather forecast was supportive, a bit rainy perhaps but a force 3-4 southerly wind for the weekend that would see us well on the way westwards. A convivial evening and a fine start to the week even though the dinner was not really up to the standards we’d come to expect.

Monday

The morning started well, up at 6:30, being on the outside of the pontoon we were able to slip away almost silently so that by our planned departure time of 7am we were well down the river. The low cloud base and early morning haze made for a grey start but we did have a light southerly as forecast which was promising. We’d timed out departure to make our way to Hurst against the last two hours of the tide intending to get there just as it changed giving us the best chance of sailing the 40 miles to clear Portland bill before 5:30pm when the tidal gate closed. In light winds this meant motoring inshore to cheat the spring tide that was really ripping past in the deeper water. The customary sailing breakfast of bacon sandwiches with plenty of fresh coffee set us up for the day and filled in the time to take us up to Yarmouth. It was a slow slog against the tide past Hurst but as the tide slacked its grip we moved on up North Channel and into Poole bay. There, the wind picked up and for a while we had a pleasant sail until sods law set in; as it steadily increased in strength it backed turning a close reach into a beat. Having to make over 5 knots to reach the Bill we were obliged to motor sail and made sufficient progress across the Bay in moderate seas. Heading well offshore to clear Anvil Point the sea became quite rough the wind rose to a solid force 6 which was, by then, right on the nose slowing progress. Fortunately it was a bright sunny day so not unpleasant for a while but by the time we reached St Albans Head it was uncomfortable and quite clear that were not going to be able to get past the Bill before the tide changed. Nobody felt like eating lunch; a day sail like this was fine but the thought of an overnight sail making little progress was not appealing. A unanimous decision was therefore taken to divert to Weymouth, disappointing but pragmatic. Just off the wind we had a really cracking sail past the Lulworth ranges sailing fast, what a difference a few degrees makes! At one point we achieved 8.5 miles over the ground in one hour, really exciting and satisfying sailing that more than overcame the disappointment of losing a day in the passage plan.

In three hours we were in the harbour and moored on the quay alongside a very solid veteran motor cruiser.  It looked like being a busy night and we were pleased to be well out on a stable raft. Chatting to other crews we soon found that we were not the only ones to be disappointed, we heard numerous accounts of persistently bad weather, disrupted trips and 6 week cruises spent holed up in one harbour or another. The positive side of Weymouth was that we were able to have a reunion of the full “Team Alize”; Tony, who could not join us due to domestic commitments, came down to meet us by train. We met at a pub by the station where there was a dog that thought it was a member of the bar staff; we then continued with the obligatory vegetarian curry. We’d found a new place, the “Indiana”, which was a bit basic but served really excellent food even if the waiter was a bit surly. Elsewhere the Saturday evening in Weymouth was a lively affair with many stag and hen nights packing out the bars and outnumbering the few holidaymakers that had braved the weather to experience a British Summer.

Sunday

A late start, no need to rush as the tide would not let us round the Bill until 11:30, or so we thought. Many boats wanted to leave early in order to catch the last of the east going tide and get back to Poole and the Solent so pandemonium reined for a while as rafts cleared to allow inside boats to depart. The forecast was reasonable, SW 4-5, so we left at 9:30 having been hurried off our raft. The plan was to take two hours to get

just past the Shambles on the offshore passage and then head west as the tide turned. This might have worked but for the navigator, who, in a moment of mental aberration, forgot about BST and left an hour early. Plugging the tide for an hour going nowhere was not pleasant in similar conditions to the previous day; it didn’t bear thinking about what it might have been like if we’d continued on through the previous night.

Gradually the tide set west and the Bill disappeared behind us as we started to knock off the miles across Lyme Bay. Once again Sods law of the sea asserted itself and the south Westerly backed to a westerly, right on the nose. With another 40 miles to go there was little option but to set the iron sail and bash our way across the confused sea as best we could. A grey mistiness soon erased the coastline including Portland leaving us on our own; that and a lumpy sea diminished our
enthusiasm for lunch once more. Nearing the far side we encountered intermittent rain showers, some quite heavy but once in the lee of the South Hams the sea flattened out and the going became much more comfortable. The last few miles always seem to take the longest and this was certainly no exception but gradually Torbay emerged out of the gloom, then the rocks and eventually the hotels on the hillside above Torquay. Soon we were able to tie up and relax over the traditional sailing dinner of ocean pie, a glass of wine and some chips from Chandlers, the traditional chippie overlooking the harbour.

Monday

Torquay had seemed to be a league of nations, Poles, Swedes and a peculiar dialect later discovered to be a

northern variant of English. The harbour had changed considerably since our last visit; there are now many more berths outside the marina and a stainless steel foot bridge across the entrance of a much improved inner harbour.

After replenishing ships stores and a light lunch we motored across the bay past fleets of dinghy’s racing. It was not only the Topper but also the Miracle national championships; lots of great racing for those how could keep upright in the breezy conditions. Brixham made a welcome change of scenery and the opportunity of having some crab sandwiches on the quay was not to be missed. We all agreed that Brixham may not be upmarket but it does have character and is much preferable to Torquay. The fishing fleet seemed particularly busy adding interest; in addition the lifeboat had to go out and help a leaking gaff rigger in. We saw all the excitement from the top of Berry Head where we went to stretch our legs.

Surprisingly the Yacht Club was not that busy despite the racing; the streets were also relatively empty, clearly the British Summer was taking its toll. Dinner at No15 was really excellent, fresh fish cooked to perfection, even the opportunity to buy and oil painting. At least this captured some long forgotten sunny summer.

Tuesday

The forecast was for rain, a gap, then more rain but at least a west south westerly which could get us to Dartmouth. To avoid getting too wet we went to the restaurant overlooking the marina which served a “Full English” breakfast and ploughed our way through that until the rain turned to drizzle and it was safe to leave. Thus fortified we got ready to set off in blustery winds and leaden skies. Getting out of the berth in such strong side winds was a bit nerve racking, the only way was to reverse out fast before the bow was blown round onto the adjacent boat by the wind; a time to be positive! - any hesitation would have resulted in a collision.

Motoring out clear of the forbidding cliffs of Berry Head we had hoped we’d be able to have a sail south but this was soon dashed when it became clear that the wind had gone south, right on the nose with a rough sea for good measure. It was yet another frustrating passage bashing through waves that nearly stopped us in our tracks, fortunately the tide kept us moving and we only had six miles to go to the Mewstone Rock.

Entering the river Dart was a pleasure by comparison, soon enough the unpleasantness was forgotten as we slid into the harbour past the castle with houses scattering the hills on either side. The cloud base was low enough to cover the tops of the hills, which, with the drizzle made it difficult to see the day marks but at sea level we could clearly see the ferries buzzing back and forth in the crowded harbour.

The Dart Marina staff couldn’t have been more accommodating despite the drizzle; to greet us were two dockmasters in red rugby shirts to make sure we able to moor in the only space available without difficulty. On reflection we couldn’t make our minds up what got them out of their office, was it the desire to deliver value for money for the £50 mooring charge or was it that we were the only visitor there that day?

Fortunately the rain cleared enough in the afternoon to allow us to have a walk right through the town and up to the Castle for a cream tea. Above the castle an open air theatre had been set up for a performance of the Tempest that evening; every one of the plastic chairs had a puddle of water in the seat, what a wash out. In the evening a pilgrimage to “The Cherub” just had to be made for a few excellent beers whilst the rain hammered down outside, shame about the theatre. Dinner was at a new restaurant, R&B’s which is definitely to be recommended. The friendly husband and wife team superbly prepare fresh seafood which they always source from Brixham.

Wednesday

We had to clear the Bill before 15:30 at the latest if we were to avoid being caught by the tide so it was a 6am start; motoring out of the harbour to the estuary with bacon sandwiches and coffee. That and a short nap set us up for the day while we continued to motor in a rather light breeze to charge the batteries. Within an hour the wind had filled in and we had the sails up in a brisk south-south-westerly making a good way, a steady 5.5 knots through the water plus a knot of tide, excellent! Miraculously the cloud eased and the forecast rain didn’t make its appearance enabling us to have a splendid sail in good visibility throughout the morning. There were just a few yachts and a couple of trawlers for company. The fishery protection vessel “Tyne” fussed about calling up fishermen on the VHF and plaguing them with awkward questions. By lunchtime the bill was closing as we headed east on a course several miles south to avoid the race; as it happened we could have saved a few miles by going inshore where it was relatively calm. When the light was abeam we headed towards Weymouth

but with the wind astern made little progress until the engine helped out.

 Once the prison was in sight our mobiles started to pick up a signal again, just in time to hear that water was leaking from the airing cupboard through the ceiling into the hall at home! Fortunately British Gas came to the rescue and hastily conceived plans to return by rail were not needed. We gave the quay a miss and moored in the marina for a quiet night in the knowledge that we didn’t need to leave too early the following morning. A leisurely walk along the quay to Nothe Fort set us up for a couple of Jurassic ales at the Red lion at Brewers Quay, the lifeboat men’s pub. It was then off to the Mah Wah for dinner which was adequate rather than memorable but a visit to the Sailors Retreat made a more fitting end to the day. This Angler’s pub is clearly a favourite with the locals if not the tourists, real ale, pork scratchings, even pickled eggs were available at the bar beneath beams festooned with pictures of smiling people holding up huge fish. That evening there was an informal folk session, at least ten guitars and plenty of singers took it in turns to entertain each other. A flavour of the past not often seen now; shame they all had grey hair.

Thursday

With the tide not due to turn until 11am there was no rush to catch the early bridge opening time, 10am was f

ine making for a civilised start to the day with a leisurely breakfast whilst reading the papers. The South African family we’d spoken to earlier who wanted to leave early did the same thing; their three teenagers must have had their way. They were on a rather old but very capable blue water cruising yacht kitted out with plenty of scuba gear so that the whole family could explore the wrecks that apparently litter Portland Harbour; most of which are very accessible in as little as 10 metres of water.

As always there was quite a scrum at bridge opening time with so many boats all intent on leaving first. We took the last place in the orderly procession that eventually formed, filing past fishing boats, yachts, lifeboat, the piers and finally the sea. Dead ahead in the bay was a huge, really splendid three mast sailing yacht at anchor; she looked as if she was in the Caribbean sitting there in the sunshine which is probably were she was destined.

With a brisk south westerly there was no delay in setting sail and with the range closed we were able to take the inshore route, intending to stay a mile or so off shore to get a good view of the Jurassic coast. We weren’t disappointed and were soon reaching gracefully along as we crossed the bay converging with the cliffs. The familiar landmarks of Osmington, Durdle Door, Lulworth, Worbarrow and Kimmerage passed by all too soon but we could enjoy their incomparable rock formations, clearly visible this trip As we approached St Albans Head

the wind unfortunately backed sharply forcing us to stay close inshore where we had a fine view of Chapman’s Pool; not surprisingly in a southerly, it was empty. In the areas close to the race and for several miles along the coast it was quite choppy but the tide kept us going past the sea caves and cliffs to Anvil Point, the light resplendent in the sunshine. Once round the point we headed into Swanage Bay for lunch, anchoring just of the pier. In the shelter from the wind it was great to hear the sound of so many people enjoying themselves on the beach not so far away. In the calm it was easy to rustle up a lunch of salad, ham and cheese whilst basing in the sunshine; unanimously voted the best of the week!

Reluctantly we raised anchor after an hour or two and motored off. The holding had been perfect, the anchor had set immediately, didn’t move an inch then came up clean, what more could one wish for! In the wind shadow of the cliffs there was not much use for the sails so we motored as close in as we dared to get a stunning view of the Old Harry rock before heading off to the fairway. There we were greeted by the full force of the Birmingham Navy, power boats everywhere all weaving around the sailing yachts with little consideration for the colregs.

This trip was one of those rare moments in sailing when a plan actually comes together; we’d booked a berth three days earlier so could enjoy the luxury of an alongside berth rather than the all too busy quay.

Wishing to replicate our success in hunting out real ales in Weymouth we set off to search the unexplored reaches of the town away from the quay and High Street. We didn’t have to go far to find a completely different Poole to the one we had been familiar with in the form of some really attractive streets around a church to the west of the High Street. Better still there were some excellent pubs by the Guildhall just waiting to be explored before we had a curry at our favourite place in the High Street.

Friday

The tide was perfect for a trip along the south side of the Isle of Wight and on to Chichester; after yet another civilized start we cleared the harbour and were able to sail at a good pace in a brisk southerly across Poole Bay arriving off the Needles when the tide turned at midday. By then the wind had picked up to a good force five, with the clouds blown away leaving a clear blue sky we had a  splendid sail past Tennyson Down and Freshwater Bay to St Catherine’s following the rhumb line well out to sea. There the race was quite vigorous and as it extended well off shore we had no alternative than to accept a bumpy ride for a few miles until it flattened out approaching the Victorian villas of Ventnor. With almost three knots of tide and making six knots through the water we literally flew past the coast and Shanklin Bay to Bembridge Ledge for the last lap across the shipping lanes to Chichester Bar. Arriving earlier than expected we were able to go right up the Chichester arm to the Yacht Basin. Out of the strong winds and in bright sunshine it was a perfect spot for all the dinghy’s that were racing, the families on the beaches, couples having a stroll, a very happy spot to be passing through. Amongst the many yachts large and small that lined the channel past Itchenor were some ancient wooden ones that had been lovingly restored, a few were even out for an airing. It was wonderful to see them gracefully powering by, such a contrast to the uniformity of modern mass produced plastic.

Although busy there was no problem in getting a berth from the reception pontoon and then motoring through the lock and into the marina. The only difficulty was making our way in very shallow water into a space that seemed designed for more manoeuvrable boats but with a bit of pushing and squeezing accompanied by the strident tones of the depth alarm we settled in. The good news was that we were right next to the sailing club and all the facilities. That Friday was the final day of a family week at the club so after the racing had finished there was a barn dance on the grass outside the clubhouse on the side overlooking the water. It made for a lovely evening with young, old and all ages in between having fun against the natural backdrop of the tree lined channel leading up to Dell Quay. Not surprising really, it’s a friendly club without pretension, just a pleasant mixture of folk united by one passion – sailing.

 Saturday

The forecast was not encouraging, rain and strong winds, so it was a surprise to wake up to blue skies and a light breeze, could they have got it wrong once more? Optimistically clad in tee shirts we set off early and had breakfast whilst motoring along the calm waters of the harbour. By the time we had reached the open sea we realised how wrong we were and how right the forecast was; we needed full oilies to get out past the bar in a a bumpy, rather threatening sea. With a south westerly wind blowing around force 6 we were just able to make the dolphins making the passage through the submarine barrier off Portsmouth but not the Forts. With a reefed mainsail and the staysail alone we didn’t have enough power to drive through the waves so it was a bit of a slog close hauled. Letting out the Yankee a bit didn’t improve matters, it was far too baggy. Nevertheless the sea keeping qualities of Alize kept us on course unlike several other yachts that sagged off the wind, disappearing off to Langston before having to tack back to where we were on the lay line to Portsmouth.

It was the last day of Cowes week so despite the conditions there were innumerable fleets out racing ranging from large racing thoroughbreds to small keelboats like the Redwings. Sailing on port tack was less than ideal but with plenty of wind it wasn’t too difficult to anticipate what was going on and keep out of their way. As the morning wore on the weather deteriorated and by the time we were off the Hamble there was plenty of rain about which was a shame, not just for us but for the many holidaymakers and couples getting married that day. At least we had the pleasure of a good sail only having to put the engine on at the last minute.

Safely tied up by two o’clock we were able to spend a pleasant hour in the tea rooms reading the papers waiting for the rain to clear; they had changed hands recently and now do Italian food in the evening, they could not have been more helpful.

With a break in the rain we were able to get the boat cleaned up and got ready for an end of cruise pub crawl to the curry house which we’d been able to locate and book using Julian’s new “gadget”. The Kings Arms, The Victory, The Wyte Harte all received our patronage providing convenient stops on the way to dinner saving us from getting absolutely soaked in the teeming rain. Amazingly it stopped abruptly just as we were about to leave making a pleasant end to the day.

Sunday

Such a difference in the weather, clearly the depression had passed leaving bright blue skies and a typical cold sector wind, a keen breeze from the west south west. Needing to return without undue delay there was no alternative to bashing our way directly into the force seven wind along with several other yachts who had further to go, all the way to Lymington. We were only too pleased to drop out of the procession into the Beaulieu River after a couple of hours and let them get on with it.

Overall it had been a great week, we might not have got to Falmouth but we did have some excellent sailing. We’d covered about 300 miles in total which was quite respectable but over 70% of this was under sail unlike many of our other cruises. There’s a lesson to be drawn from this, long trips may be satisfying but the pressure to cover distance and the likelihood of less than perfect conditions means a lots of motoring. Keeping the distances down keeps the sailing time up