Crew: Lynda, then Derek & Steve
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
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
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
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!
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