Crew: Lynda
Saturday
A whole week away; we have a plan to go to two weekend club
events and if the weather’s ok, a few days in France for some unashamed
gastronomic indulgence. The outlook is light winds for the whole week which is
promising but the day starts with rain. Just typical, we rushed to get to Ginns
before the lunchtime crowd in order to get a parking spot and find the car park
empty when we arrive. Perhaps it’s because Robert, the club steward was away at
a wedding. It’s strange in the clubhouse, an unusual absence of abuse, just the
politeness of Roy behind the bar.
Just as we get on board the weather changes for the better
making us feel much happier; the rain of early morning had cleared to leave a
bright sunny afternoon. After a light lunch we go ashore to collect Toadie, our
new tender; this has made a great difference to our stays at Beaulieu and
should mean we can continue to come down throughout the winter season.
A stout
seaworthy little craft she hammers along well with the outboard and is easy to
row as well. There was just time to take her to Bucklers Hard even though it was against a rapidly ebbing spring tide. As a result it took three quarters
of an hour but it’s an attractive stretch of river past Ginns, past the string
of Yachts on the trots. All very natural apart from the few big houses like
Ballards, complete with their own landing stage and large motor cruisers. Amongst the modern plastic boats a couple of traditional craft stand out,
notably Tom Cunliff’s “Western Man” looking the part, a tough working boat.
The walk through the forest and fields is always pleasant on
the way to Beaulieu village but today the river was a ribbon of colour in the
bright sunshine and calm despite the stiff breeze. Thanks to the Beaulieu
estate there is almost a complete absence of development and what houses there
are meet strict standards in terms of style and build. No fence panels from
B&Q, only natural oak in the traditional shape with a diamond on top.
For a Saturday the Beaulieu Arms was quite empty making it
an unusually quiet retreat from the hoards of visitors that were teaming
through the rest of the village. Time is tight and we are looking forward to
the evening, so after a quick pint we head back along the direct path, return to
the tender and without the tide against us have quick chug back to Alize and a
shower.
That evening was a “Rock and Roll” evening so we were
pleased to find that the Jazz band we had enjoyed earlier was there. After a
splendid but rather heavy meal courtesy of Paul the chef, we jived away the
evening in the still warm air, only too pleased to be moving about. We were one of only a few that were staying on board but not moored on the pontoon. So well
before everyone else left by car we were striding past the clubhouse in our wet
weather gear and life jackets feeling rather over dressed. It’s the right
choice though, the river is really dark at night and we had learned the hard
way not to take chances.
Sunday
A leisurely start, as Sundays should be, ignoring the
sensible plan to leave at 9am and catch the tide. On taking Toadie back to the
clubhouse I found out the hard way the even small tenders have to follow the
withies and the windy channel to the quay; clipping the bank caused the shear
pin to go resulting in some energetic rowing as early morning exercise.
After a quick read of the Sunday papers we set off in the
direction of Portsmouth. Being a lazy day, once clear of the river we just
unwound the Yankee and in the brisk westerly shot off to Cowes at a good five
knots. Naturally being a sunny summer
day in the Solent the water was crowded, almost like a round the Island race.
Fortunately we were on starboard, not that that mattered to some of the boats.
We couldn’t pass Osborne
Bay without stopping for lunch, it looked idyllic; and was for the most part.
Anchoring in four metres of water was a breeze with the windlass; we were
reasonably sheltered but there was a bit of a swell running that had the
temerity to cause the wine to spill over. After a particularly pleasant lunch
our peace and quiet was terminated quite abruptly by the arrival of a gaudy
motor cruiser accompanied by a couple of surf scooters riding alongside, but it
was time to go anyway.
The brisk wind hadn’t abated so we had a good sail to
Gilkicker making over six knots, more than enough to plug the tide. Once round
the old fortifications we booked a berth at Gosport marina then switched to channel
11 to hear QHM before entering the busy harbour at Portsmouth. After
going over the Hamilton Bank we took our place in an orderly line of yachts and motor
cruisers making their way through the small ships channel whilst a steady
stream of fast cats and ferries plied in an out of the main channel.
We past Fort Blockhouse close by before the main harbour opened, not too busy just a few frigates and a carrier.
Staying close in shore we passed Haslar Marina with its red lightship, then
turned in by the old Camper and Nicholson yard and entered the huge boat park
that is Gosport Marina. Thanks to some forethought on the part of the
harbourmaster when we reserved the berth we had an easy entrance and were set
for the evening.
With time to spare we took the old fashioned ferry across to
Portsmouth for a quick visit to Gunwharf Quay where we were pleased we hadn’t put
in for the night. Quite exposed to the brisk westerly, the bars were only
populated by hardy or reckless types and the berths less than comfortable. It’s
an enormous development with more shops than we ever though existed. We took
refuge in a “Traditional Pub” built out of the one old building reputed to have
been a Customs House. We had had enough. Returning to Gosport which, despite the influx of expensive flats
and boats, is still rather basic. We only wanted a quiet night on board and on a
Sunday night that's what it offered.
Monday
As we couldn’t get into St Vaast before about 9pm there was
no point in leaving earlier than a civilised 6am. We woke to a bright sunny
morning with hardly any wind to disturb the surface of the sea. Within a few
minutes we had a cup of tea, got the boat ready and were off. Naturally this
was a particularly busy moment so we waited for a while in Haslar creek whilst
the Normandy and several other large ships passed by too close for comfort to
the small ships channel.
Cautiously, we threaded
our way past the shipping and the forts to Bembridge Ledge where we had breakfast before turning south onto our calculated course of 190 degrees once past the cardinal mark. Initially progress was slow with the tide against us and the wind
filling in right on the nose; however in bright sunlight motoring was pleasant
enough. Gradually the Isle of Wight receded behind us as we approached
the shipping lanes. From a distance there seemed to be nothing about but once close by we
encountered two ships both coming closer than we would have liked. They did
clear us though and by lunchtime we were in the centre reservation having lunch
and by mid afternoon we were clear of danger.
After a few false calls raised by an unusual stratus cloud we finally saw the French coast, the end was in sight! As usual it became a bit boring with the coast ever so gradually coming closer. To break the monotony we broke open the bar, had some nibbles and a leisurely dinner to pass the time with nothing but an occasional fishing boat for company. We couldn’t get into the lock until 8:45 BST at the earliest so there was no point in rushing. For a short while we pulled out the sails and switched the engine off, just long enough to have a quiet dinner; much nicer, shame we struggled to make 3 knots.
On clearing La Gavandest we were bang on schedule following a
few mid course corrections to take account of the tide, its not often that a
plan works! As the bay came into view we were less happy when we saw that it was full of yachts
at anchor. Just then a fishing boat “Mon Ami” came steaming out and rocked them
all about. For a while we thought they were just having a quiet (and cheap)
night but as we neared them it became clear that most had fenders out and the
rest were getting them ready. Someone asked the port when the gates would open
– 9:55 FST, not far off so immediately everyone started to jostle for a
position to enter first.
This ended up being a real scrum, several French boats just
went straight in ignoring the queue, a few Dutch boats held back. Rather keen to get
some rest after a long day we pushed on in and seeing all the visitiors berths
full up just took the first available residents berth whilst all about us were
milling about in a bad tempered manner; eventually they realised it was the
only option and followed our example. Feeling rather tired we paid our dues, were prepared to move
in extremis, and crashed out for a sound sleep.
Tuesday
A wonderful morning and so different from the evening
before. Sitting out in the sunshine with fresh croissants for breakfast made it
all worthwhile. Everyone was friendly and sociable; it was like a different
port. Naturally as soon as the lock gates opened several yachts left and we
were able to move into a proper visitor’s berth where there would be no risk of
an enforced move. We even had power on and got Alize into residential mode with
the kettle out and everything convenient but totally unsuited to sailing.
Naturally we needed
supplies, so it was off to M. Gosselen’s wonderful emporium that seems to grow
bigger every time we go there. His range of foods is truly amazing, many of
them packed to last any journey and clearly designed with visitors in
mind. We were pleased to see the mock vintage van was still available for those
hard pressed Brits who needed a lift back to the marina with their wine and
beer. It may be “free” but his prices more than cover the cost.
Our original plan was to have a quick drink at the Café du
Port then return for lunch on board. It was so pleasant though that we just had
to stay to enjoy a seafood salad whilst watching the fishing boats and the rest
of the world go by. In the afternoon we took the little amphibious bus to the
pretty Isle de Tatiou. Ideal for a lazy afternoon, a wander around the
foreshore, a quick climb up the tower, a look round the old fortifications and
back in time for tea. On the way out the bus had left the Capitainarie and gone
straight into the water to cross to the
island by the most direct route floating almost all the way. On our return the
tide was well out so it took the causeway over the rocks and around the oyster
beds to give us all a more interesting view. Sac upon sac of oysters lay on
their supports with gangs of workers bashing them about and tractors charging
to and fro making the most of the few hours of low tide; a real hive of
activity.
Dinner was at the Fushia, we just had to try it as so many
people had raved about how good it was. In the event it was very traditional
French, quite posh and clearly popular with the well heeled members of the
yachting fraternity. The meal was fine but with the large conservatory area
almost full of tourists from England and Holland it was not exactly the French
eating experience we would have liked
Wednesday
Another bright sunny day, what went wrong? The forecast was
for settled weather through to the weekend so we stay put for another lay day.
A walk is called for and after a bit of research we settle on a not
particularly challenging visit to the sister fort of Tatiou at La Holouge. By
this time it’s clouded over and threatening to rain but we pack the rucksack and
plan for the worst.
In the event it stayed
dry and after the great circular walk around the marina due to the lock gates
being open we set off. It may only be 0.5 km but it’s still delightful to be by the
sea. The fort is not open as its a military signals station but the path
around the perimeter is wonderful and amply repays the visit. Its high tide so
its tricky negotiating the narrow paths along the sea wall which forms the
first part.
There is a beach in places absolutely full of shells, seemingly
metres deep and extending to the sea, unusual to put it mildly. The southern side
of the island is totally different; it is a path under the trees with fortified
walls towering above on the right hand side, the sea on the other
All too soon it comes to an end, the spell is broken and we
are back where we started from, at the tennis courts and little refreshments
hut. Returning in time for lunch we forget to go back to Alize and sit down at
the Debarquement. The service hasn’t improved, still terrible, but it's good
value and there is plenty of choice. The crab was just what was needed and the
salad giesier excellent, perhaps a bit too filling for a light lunch.
We spend the afternoon wandering about, sketching, and
absorbing the atmosphere of the port. A real seaside holiday destination but
with enough of the fishing industry and supporting traditional boat yards to
give it currency and authenticity. The yard was well equipped and stocked with
plenty of wood to make repairs to both traditional and modern steel craft; it
was a pleasure to see craftsmen at work.
Dinner at La Chaisse Marie was much more fun and interesting
than the night before; the owner, Guy is mildly eccentric, the décor is
informal with a maritime feel and the people all younger, more lively. There
are arguments about smoking lots of bustling about and passion for eating well.
The meal was excellent even if we made the great faux pas of not checking that
the stuffed seafood didn’t include oysters! The caused us to start talking to
an interesting couple who are staying in a house nearby owned by a friend. It
makes a pleasant interlude and we end up going back for coffee and a quick
brandy before heading back to Alize where it’s surprisingly noisy. The people
from Le Havre on the yacht next door are putting the world to rights
accompanied by lots of wine…
Thursday
A rather utilitarian morning - sorting out the boat, filling
the tanks and making sure we have enough supplies to get back home. We plan to
return via Cherbourg and the tide turns at 15:00 but we decide leave at 12:30 as we'd like to get there in time for a good dinner out. After a sunny start it
clouds over, the visibility drops and out to sea there is little wind. No
option but to motor, it gets a bit boring. By the time we reach Barfleur, the
coastline had almost disappeared and to make it more gloomy the temperature drops.
Spirits are raised by lunch – some of the best St Vaast has that we could take
with us; stuffed tomatoes, tart a l’onion, cheve with poivre, definitely
delicious.
The GPS proves to be
more accurate than the rather casual plotting made on this trip when trying to
find the three cardinal marks that keep us safely off the rocks. With the
tide being adverse we stayed off shore to keep well out of trouble
whist a French yacht goes inshore to cheat the tide. Strangely it doesn’t make
that much difference, the tide is turning; soon we are hurtling towards
Cherbourg at over 7 knots.
The huge breakwaters and the ruin of Fort de l’Est come into
view in the distance and we are right on track for the entrance after a minor
course change to take into account the tide. We don’t want to get swept passed
the entrance so we head just east of the fort. Naturally as we are about to
enter a big ferry approaches from behind us but there is plenty of room to keep out of
the way in the gap between the outer rade and the inner rade.
We had assumed the Port de Plaisance would be packed but
when we arrive there was plenty of room and we were able to moor up before 6pm
in time to find a suitable restaurant to have our last meal in France. We had
always wanted to try Le Vauban and the way the cheery chef took the booking was
really promising. We were not disappointed; the interior is stylish and smart
but not pretentious, just classic modern French in good taste. The meal was
excellent, we had four courses which was really good value and included a few
interesting extra’s as an amuse bouche such as a mousse of fois gras. We
started with a medley of fois gras and maigret de canard; the, main was
monkfish and sea bass, both delicious. The plat de fromage had some really interesting
cheeses such as a cheve with paprika; the desert was “soupe de fruits” a
mixture of fresh fruits of the forest. A memorable end to our short stay in
France eeked out by a calvados on deck
before retiring later that we really wanted to given we had a long journey the
next day.
Friday
The plan was to leave at 6am but the night before had taken
its toll to we left a little later arguing that after that meal we wouldn’t
have to eat out in England. After lots of clatter and not particularly focused
activity ended up leaving at 7am, not too disastrous. Fortunately the initial
mistiness had blown away by then and although cloudy we had excellent
visibility. There was a bit of wind but in strict accordance with sods law of
the sea it was right on the nose.
Another boring slog across the channel was in prospect as we
made our way out under power; there was just a hope that the weather would
change and so it turned out that way.
The shipping lanes arrived just as the French coast started
to recede into the horizon, this provided a bit of interest as it was quite
busy but not so much that we got too pressed. Another lunch from St Vaast
provided a pleasant interlude whilst we crossed the centre reservation and just
as we cleared the east bound lane the wind backed and increased to a steady
10kn westerly enabling us to have a splendid sail.
With full sails up on a close reach we had some exciting,
fast sailing. In brilliant sunshine we
were speeding along with the occasional wave breaking over the bow to
add to the enjoyment. The hump of St Catherine’s came into view first as the “S
– bend” of our course took us initially west then well east of the rum line and
at over 15 miles away we were due south of the light.
Gradually we got nearer the island and took a course nearly
parallel with the coast as we made our way to the Needles. Off Freshwater Bay
we had a superb view of the island in all its glory – from the cliffs of
Tennyson Down to the rolling hills of St Catherine’s. Going against the tide of 6kn we went as slow as 3kn at times, good job it
was neaps. Rounding the light close in to cheat the tide was tricky as the
normal way of measuring the distance off using the coastguard station as in the
round the island race didn’t work very well as we were going the opposite way
round.
Keeping close inshore in first Alum then Totton bay we
avoided the worst of the tide and overtook several yachts struggling in the
centre of the channel. It was like
seeing old friends again when we got up to Hurst and entered the familiar,
sheltered waters of the Solent. In no time we were negotiating the ferries in
the Lymington River and dodging the many dinghies out for a sail on a bright
and breezy Friday evening.
The fast sail had made up for lost time and we were
able to tie up at our reserve berth at Lymington Marina soon after 7pm. We celebrated
and put the time to good use by going up the hill to the Kings Arms for a few
pints of English beer and some solid sailing fare. Unexpectedly, we had some
lively conversation with two women who were celebrating a birthday.
Saturday
Saturday is market day at Lymington so it was even more
packed than usual and a struggle to get to Waitrose at the top of the high
street to get our picnic. There’s a greater variety of stalls here than almost
anywhere in the country; naturally lots of food stalls with fresh fruit and
veg, pork from the Forest, even fresh bread and of course cheap clothes stalls.
What makes it special are the stalls selling antiques, old tools, even camera’s
– “I put in an appearance here but make the real money on the Internet” All in
all a lively time but quite pleasant to be back on board by lunchtime.
We set off straight away and once out of the River only had
to open up the Yankee to make over 7Kn towards Cowes with a fair breeze and a
favourable tide. Lunch was a joy with the autohelm on and Alize making her way
steadily towards the crowded central Solent. Whilst there were yachts about we
were on starboard and fortunately they kept well clear, especially whilst we
had lunch.
All too soon we were off
Egypt Point where it suddenly got rather busy as well as breezy so we rolled up
the sail and motored in at about 3pm accompanied by dozens of other boats all
intent on finding one of the few vacant berths; so much for Cowes in summer.
Off Island marina it was chaos, about ten boats were all waiting to enter
as it changed to free flow and the berthing master just couldn’t cope. First we
and another RSYC motor boat were given some totally inappropriate spaces, then
another boat blocked the harbour entrance and to cap it all another went
aground – all fun and games! We gilled around for a bit, realised it was all
rather ridiculous and then moved into the first available space. At the harbour
office where we tried to sort things out it was even more chaotic than afloat,
hoards of people, boats coming in ignoring the red light, impatience and
general disorganisation. Eventually we got it all got resolved and we got ready for
the evening concert.
The music eventually started with an introduction from an
announcer in true music hall style, after the first few pieces (charge of the
light brigade!) he announced the visitors from all over the place, considering
Hampshire, naturally, to be abroad.
It was a fun evening rather than a serious concert and many
entered into the spirit of it all by buying silly head gear and flags to wave,
all in the cause of charity. By the time we got to Sunday
It may have been the last day but our luck with the weather
held; it was bright, sunny and breezy, perfect if we were to go sailing. After
a leisurely breakfast of coffee and croissants we spent a couple of hours
tiding the boat up then repaired to the Folly to recover. Surprisingly it was
not that crowded and an excellent place to spend an hour or two on a sunny
Sunday morning. It was low tide which may have kept some of the yachts away but
motor boats were there in abundance. Good job everyone hasn’t the same taste
but they did see to be enjoying themselves.
Getting out of the marina was even more challenging than
getting in so we were a bit late back to the Beaulieu River but still in time
for David to be able to take us ashore and on our way home.
All in all a splendid week and a fortunate one weather wise.
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