While the boat work was completing we surveyed the map and realized there was a long distance with few ports to the south of us before we crossed the Spanish border. We needed to absorb some more Frenchness before Spain so chose to go up the river to Rochefort, a few miles south of La Rochelle.
The river was lined with little mens sheds on stilts over the riverThey must be fit around here: there was a trampoline outside each shedThere were a few small runabouts and sailing boats in the river, but we were surprised when this came around the corner. There are some quite narrow sections and only enough depth to navigate the river at high tide.We went under the bridge with a suspended platform attached to a small train. The platform can just be seen parked on the left hand side.We returned to the bridge by paw and foot the next dayAnd took a ride on the suspended platform across the riverWhen we left Rochefort, we found the platform mid stream!
After a trip to the Rochefort markets we decided to have picnic beside the river.
Picnic with a spaniel…sooo relaxingRochefort was a large navy boat yard in a bygone era and the restored buildings and parks along the river make an attractive picnic spot.There was a mussel shack right next to Rocheport harbour where we absorbed some FrenchnessSimple fresh food, well cooked and slurped down with a local vintage
After a few days relaxing in Rochefort we headed out into Biscay and turned south. Thirty six hours later we found ourselves in Saint Jean-de-Luz, one of the last French towns before the border. The town was a delightful fusion of Basque and French.
Dolphins accompanied us on the trip. We even saw some darting about in the bioluminescence at night.We parked off the beach. We called the marina to see if we could go in, but he said they didn’t have enough space. Google Translate is really helping us in these less international touristy areas. We visited the marina, and yeah, even if they had a berth, we wouldn’t have fit. But its lovely being on anchor.We tried to blend in with the tourists
Next stop was San Sebastian in Basque country. With a mountainous backdrop and statue on a hill next to the town it looked quite different to the French side of the border.
We managed to snuggle into the little harbour right next to the old town. Going in it was a quick judgement call if we would fit past the large tourist boat without scratching them, or ourselves on the large rock wall. It was tight.The local ferries had just enough room to squeeze past us if we held our breathThe old town before the tourists arrivedWe tried our first Spanish dishes on a fabulous foodie tour where we learned all about Basque food and local wine and cider. Coming home with a proper tool to pour the local wine and cider too!
We met some lovely new friends on our foodie tour celebrating a big birthday (Happy Birthday again F!) and had them over for some drinks on Away to discuss all things travel and fun.
Visited the statue who was having a cleanAnd enjoyed the views across the bay, and went running around the beach. There are so many eucalypt trees here it smells like home.We spotted a church in the old townAnd went inside for a peekAn evening was spent on a walking tour of the bars in the old town.
After way to many pintxos (small dishes like tapas), we decided to navigate the tight exit from the marina, and head back out to open waters towards Bilbao. When we arrived, the beaches were absolutely packed! Once tucked in to the marina, we enjoyed a bite to eat. The following day we took the metro into the town centre for a look around at the markets and the old town, after giving the dog a walk. We’ve discovered whilst there are a lot of dogs in Spain, the transport and shops are not as dog friendly as Cornwall.
We headed along the rugged coast line to BilbaoThe famous spider was patrolling outside the Guggenheim museumAnd took the inevitable selfie with the flowery puppy.
Our next hop was to the port of Laredo where there was a large modern marina.
We saw a quite a few walkers heading west along the beach. One of them seemed to be carry beads in her hand, and we realized we must be on one of the many Camino tails heading to Santiago. The Caminos were easy to spot with their mid sized back packs, clam shells and walking sticks. We have seen lots of them at the ports along the north Spanish coast.
A sign the Camino’s passed by this wayOur new (super fast comfy) dinghy took us across the bay to Santona, where we found this we found this unusual circular building.Looks like the men play dress ups in this buildingThere is a circular headland walk from Santona that was described as fairly level unless you choose to go down the steps to the light house. We agreed after seeing the lighthouse as we headed along the coast.Bernie is getting a bit old for stairs these days, so we had to make do with a restaurant with a view instead.The Spanish sunsets were worth capturing
Some light afternoon wind allowed us to get the big red sail out and head around to Santander, where we parked off a white sandy beach amid the Sunday afternoon water sports.
The next day a beautiful red boat appeared with an Aussie flag and a friendly g’day. The aussie couple had been living on their boat for many years sailing the med. It was an absolute delight to hear that familiar accent saying G’Day at the stern. We enjoyed coffee and food and great chats about cruising.
We now find ourselves out of Basque country and so the Basque flag is stowed, and the Spanish flag raised. We get to Ribadesella after a quick sail of 25m along the coast. We needed to time the tide right again as Ribadesella is a little bit of a tricky town to moor in.
More on Ribadesella next time. And yeah, I (Fi) apparently have no idea of how that’s pronounced correctly given the poor marina staff had no idea who I was calling on the radio as we entered.
The daffodils poked their heads through the winter grey and Away’s haul out date in La Rochelle began looming, now only weeks away. We finally broke the dock inertia and a rather active ecosystem that seems determined to attach Aways hull to the dock.
Leaving Falmouth, our first destination for the season was Guernsey to pick up our new outboard engine. Away loped along the now familiar Cornish coast under big red and into Salcombe, our jump off point for another Channel crossing.
We arrive in Salcombe and find our mooring buoy as the last vestiges of a very fresh spring day disappeared below the waves. To our relief no one was surfing the Salcombe bar today.
We had sold our dinghy over winter so the Salcombe water taxi provided a convenient way to get ashore for a final English pint. Good winds and a spritely sea were forecasted for our channel crossing to Guernsey.
Bernie confirmed the sporty conditions by being sea sick for only the second time in 5 years on a boat. Despite the sunshine it was still 5 layers cold.We had been across the Channel enough now that the big ships went around us without Fi’s instructions, but a fishing boat ignored our radio calls. When the coast guard called them to ask their intentions as they were on a collision course with yacht Away, it turned out they were listening to the radio after all…
Instead of looming out of the sea as we approached, Guernsey hid behind a blanket of haze. We were only a mile off the coast when the rocks and lighthouses appeared. A quick count of the wrecks marked on the chart suggested this may well be a normal phenomenon.
Guernsey harbour had read our blog post about their inadequate cleats. Over the winter they had upgraded two of the pontoons, now proudly displaying this enhanced cleatage.
Our new outboard engine turned up at the dock. A kilogram lighter and almost double the power of the last one…its amazing how far technology has moved on.
Its a long day trip to Roscoff so we left at a scary o’clock.This guy hitched a ride. Even came inside for a while until a large spaniel pointed out it wasn’t a suitable nesting spot for a small bird. First new country of the year, but no signs of summer weather yet. Perhaps that’s a suitable nesting site?A day off in Roscoff was spent sorting out formalities and croissants.We set out again into a misty morning to drift further down the French coast on the tideThe coast line here is a tad rocky with an appropriate number of lighthouses to highlight the dangersWe stopped in Aber Wrac’h expecting everything to be closed on a lazy Sunday afternoon. To our surprise there were many restaurants open and decided it would be rude not to sample the local oysters. Finally, that’s a hat not designed to keep me warm!
We had a good forecast for a trip round the westerly tips of France. These can be a little tricky with tides running upward of 5 knots. We timed the first one perfectly, but approaching Pointe du Raz we notice we are going 1 knot sideways rather than 5 knots forwards. A yacht coming the other way was going 11 knots under engine and appeared to be airborne much of the time. Our review uncovered that the tidal flows are different on the chartplotter to the flows on iPad chart, which are different again to guide book. The guide book seems closest to reality so we retired to a local beach for an hour whilst we hoped the tidal flow would subside.
An hour later and we rounded the headland in quiet waters and headed for Audierne a few miles down the coast. In the morning we were welcomed to the marina, advised about local facilities, told about good dog walks and bike rides and advised to pay when when we knew how long we were staying. There was a market at the end of the pontoon and restaurants surrounding the harbour. If we didn’t have a deadline this would be an easy place to stay.
We had a ‘Bernie day’ and walked up the river to the next town, Pont Croix, and back.Audierne showing signs summer is around the corner.The next day we were back on the water. This ‘boat’ appeared out of the distance turned around us and flew back down the coast. It was unclear if they just wanted some sailing tips or thought we were stationary enough to use as a turning mark.Bernie did his sunrise leaving dance after an overnight pit stop on anchor at the Isles des Glenan
With continued good conditions we decided to make some miles down the coast using all the daylight and bit extra. We anchored at Ile d’Yeu late in the dark but were on the move again the next morning. The closer we got to La Rochelle the more yachts we saw. It was a holiday weekend and it was great to see so many boats enjoying the conditions.
We have seen a lot of dolphins along this trip. The ones in the Channel had the largest groups, the biggest were in the north west, but this group won the aerial award: 9.8 for a forward flip in the piked position.A legendary city scape where legends are made. At least in offshore racing circles. This the breakwater at Les Sables-d’Olonne where the Vendee Globe around the world race starts and finishes. If the tide is low or the sea too rough the finishing race boats divert a few minutes south to an all weather marina. We did the same…taking an hour to cover the same distance!The final push into La Rochelle. Black skies, squalls and unforecasted wind on the beam. It ended up being a race between a 16m Dutch yacht, a German solo racing boat and the underwater garden with sails. The garden held on until the final couple of miles when even a shortcut across concerningly shallow water wasn’t enough to maintain the lead. The Dutch cheered us into the marina perhaps thinking we had come all the way from Australia?Away wearing a grass skirt.We enjoyed a delicious feast of sea creatures collected from the hull.While the boat was cleaned, we visited friends who have a country cottage not far away.Its actually a ‘bikers stopover’ and their first guests arrived whilst we were there. Bernie sniffed out some venisonBack in La Rochelle we had a delivery!Bernie sealed his approval with a set of muddy paw printsAway was looking less like an underwater nature reserve and ready for a summer cruise…
Next time, we sail up a river for a picnic and use the bimini for shade…
We had decided not to sail to France this year, but we weren’t going to miss out on visiting France altogether. We hired a car, booked some Gites and drove to the years last Plymouth to Roscoff ferry.
We love accommodation that moves while we sleep. Travelling with Bernie we have to book a room on the ferry anyway. Its such a joy to wake up and find your room is in a new country.
Exploring the Brittany coast we came across an appropriate seafood restaurant for lunch overlooking the coast. Food is important, simple and tasty here and we weren’t disappointed. After an overnight stop in Brest it was time to head south for a few nights near Vannes.
Bernie found a good lunch spot and we were soon tracking dear and watching ducksA stop at the markets provided the essentials
The area was known for its oysters but all the oyster shacks were closed for the winter. Our host told us French people get oysters at the L’eclerc supermarket where we found them fresh and inexpensive. We took a trip into Nantes and visited the WW2 submarine pens and the site of the famous WW2 commando raid on the dry docks at St Nazaire.
Submarines used to live in the building on the leftIts quite a solid building!
Next day we were heading south to the Dordogne region, but co-incidentally were passing Les Sables-D’Olonne on the same day as the Vendee Globe solo sailing around the world race started. Along with many thousands of others we waved as the sailors headed out to the start line.
The skippers were introduced to the crowd one by one, jumped on their boats and head out to start the 2-3 month trip around the planetThis was the view from our window in the little stone village in the DordogneWe set about sniffing around the area. We were told not to walk outside the village on Sundays due to the boar huntingOne day we visited the village Oradour-sur-Glane where the Germans had massacred 643 residents in 1944 and then burnt the village to the ground. The village has remained as it was 1944 as a memorial. A sobering place to visit.A visit to the market means difficult choices. Can we get a slice of all of them?And if the markets are closed there is always the vending machinesThe sun setting on a delightful stay in the DordogneOn the drive north we stopped off a wolf reserve. The wolves were spooked by the local boar hunt passing by and were very active during our visit. Poor Bernie was relegated to the car.
Our next stop was in the Loire valley know for its chateau and wines. We found limestone cliffs that used to be used for housing, but mostly garages and storage now.
A winery we visited had kilometers of underground tunnels used for wine storage. We were the only people in the tunnel on a wet dreary day in late November.The tunnels were illuminated with projections of local art worksThere is still some wine stored in the tunnelsAnd evidence on the wall of past bottle storageBernie insisted we visit a ChateauHe got very excited when he saw the signs and tried to ignore the speed limitAnd appreciated the architectureThis was perhaps the finest garden Bernie has wee’d onBut he had to stay in car while we explored the insideAfter every good chateau comes a well deserved galetteWe took a day trip to Domme a hill top town. The multiple car parks outside the town hinted at the summer time tourist congestion. In November it was quiet and a delight to wander around the streets.We visited Leonardo da Vinci’s last home at Amboise. Bernie loved the garden and was even more excited to have his Mona Lisa momentInside Leonardo was no longer there, but his cat was still on his desk studying his sketchesWe even had an unseasonal snow fall before we left
Net stop was Cherbourg to catch up with Marie
It was a bad hair day for someA bad beard day for othersand an ears back day for BernieNot the day to visit this harbour
All too soon we were boarding the ferry back to not so sunny England for a family Christmas, friends New Year, winter boat jobs, and a trip to sunny Australia.
The time had come to move on to the French coast where we were hoping to leave Away over winter. But our time at anchor had allowed our annual end of season rethink (we always end up changing our winter location). Visas, dogs, family and accommodation costs meant it would be more sensible to return to Falmouth.
A solid north easter ruled out a trip to Alderney which has little protection from that direction. But it did promise a fast sail across the channel. A local mentioned that once we past the overfalls it should be reasonably comfortable. Sorry, what overfalls? We couldn’t find mention of any overfalls north of Guernsey in any of our guide books and no rough water markers on the chart. We even read an article by a local saying they had never encountered overfalls in this area.
Leaving St Peters Port at that time of dayIs that a line of breakers I can see?
The 20-30 knots of north easterly wind met 4 knots of spring tide flushing us out of the Little Russel channel. We soon spotted a line of breaking waves. For the following half hour we tried to set the speed fast enough that we could control the boat and not turn side on the the waves, but slow enough as to spend as much time in contact with the water as possible.
A few waves to get the day started.Once clear of the overfalls we were trucking towards the English coastBernie recovered from his traumatic morningAnd our friends came to visit us
We were making good progress and decided to head for the Dart. We found a visitors pontoon which was mostly empty this time of year. Apart from the naval college on the hill and associated maritime comings and goings there was a steam train chuffing in and out of the station across the river. It even accepted dogs possessing the appropriate ticket.
Changing to the other end of the train for the return journeyThere is an observation car at the front of the train from which you can enjoy the scenery across to KingswearHe may not have enjoyed the view, but any morsels of digestive biscuits carelessly dropped under the seats were duly cleaned up.
We enjoyed an explore up river on the local ferry and went for a walk.
A ferry up the Dart took us to the village of Dittisham where this guy was resting on the pontoon.
However, soon it was time to begin the trip west towards Falmouth. A quick passage to Plymouth was in order as we had never been there and the weather wasn’t looking too great.
On the way to Plymouth, we dropped in to the familiar Salcombe. On arrival we were dodging heavy rain showers and were quite surprised to find surfers on the bar as we passed. Perhaps a chunky swell, outgoing tide and shallow water were not ideal conditions to enter.Up the river from Plymouth past the busy naval docks the river becomes altogether more relaxedFrom our anchorage we dinghyed up to St German. Here the 32 arches of the St Germans viaduct built in 1908 carry the Plymouth to Falmouth railway across the river. We later became familiar with the train which we used to get to London on several occasions.Time to leave the tranquility and head further along the coast.
Leaving Plymouth for Fowey was a beautiful day. Except we did manage to pick up some weed in the thruhull for the engine cooling. Our fancy new exhaust temperature sensor alerted us and Adrian went for a quick swim, in a wetsuit, and cleared the weed before we have a repeat of this years shenanigans.
Leaving Plymouth we had red sail conditions for the trip along the coast to Fowey.We had visited the town of Fowey before so this time chose a walk along the coast north of the river.
After our beautiful walk in Fowey, it was time. Time to accept the season was over and we’d had an unlucky year. Time to accept that we didn’t get to France. No matter, there are other ways. Off we trot to Falmouth and our winter berth.
Back in Cornwall the locals have a timeless charm. We raced kept this boat company along the coast most of the way to Falmouth.With time to spare we spent a few nights at St Mawes on the northern headland of the Fal so Bernie could sniff some fresh countryside smellsBack in our winter berth. Its quite shallow here for some hours of the day
Next time we make up for not getting to France by boat by going to France by boat…
A look at the weather showed it would be very quick trip back to UK or perhaps an opportunity to enjoy some harbour time. We decided on the latter.
Grey coloured wind is BAD.
St Peters Port has an inner harbour with a cill that keeps some water in the harbour at low tide. Once the outside water level is below the cill at low tide, any surge in the outer harbour is kept out. But after about half tide the surge comes through the inner harbour, gently swaying vessels to and fro.
Anticipating a bit of surge, we added some extra dock lines and had just settled down with a cup of tea when there was a metal on metal clunk outside. Hmmm. It took just a moment to notice one of the bow dock lines hanging loose and the remains of the cleat on the dock.
That used to be a dock cleat.
No matter there were a few more cleats we could use. The boat was now surging quite violently and the snatch loads on the cleats were becoming significant. Another boat further down the dock broke a stern line and another ripped a cleat out off its deck. Someone else injured themselves on their boat in the violent surge and was off to hospital.
To reduce the snatch loads we decided to put some longer lines with more stretch across the dock to some unused cleats on the far side of the dock. I was just explaining to another owner how we had broken a cleat when another one parted company with the dock, shot past our legs and smashed into the hull with a bullet like impact. ‘Just like that’ I explained.
The situation was becoming a little more serious as we were running out of cleats to hold the bow which was now enjoying some gusts into the forties and snatch loads from the surging. We were upwind of a number of more delicate fibreglass boats that were going to make that horrible crunching sound if we blew into them.
I noticed $2M worth of Leopard catamaran parked at the end of the fairway. Side on it was an unmissable target. If our bow came loose I imagined the force of the wind would break the stern lines in an instant and Away would head straight for the shiny white fibreglass and happily embed its solid aluminium bowsprit into the catamarans exposed hull. Then what? Would the wind twist Away and lever off a large section of gleaming white hull? I remembered those pictures from the blitz with peoples lounge rooms exposed to public view when a bomb ripped the front off a house. Would there be neatly folded PJs and a tidy row of sailing guides ordered by region and size, or a pile of long overdue washing and dishevelled pile of Multihull magazines? Perhaps the chain plates would be weakened by the impact enough for the rig to collapse into the car park surprising the retired couple enjoying their cheese and pickle sandwiches and flask of tea.
More cleats needed and quick. We set about finding additional under utilised cleats around the dock and moving them onto our dock. The ever present risk of being maimed by a low flying cleat made it stressful work.
We slowly added more and more mooring lines (thank goodness we bought more when we wintered in Scotland) and ran them through the cleats on our side, then across the dock over to the further side cleats for extra extra holding.
I was about to remove more cleats when an off duty harbour master came to suggest we didn’t cross the dock with our lines creating a tripping hazard. I decided not to shout at him immediately and instead explained that we were happy to remove the offending lines if he was happy to take responsibility for us turning the other boats into a splintering mess of crushed fiberglass. He asked why we were the only boat breaking cleats. Newtons second law was a long faded memory from high school physics, so I summarised that little wee boats equal little wee force on the cleats, big f**k off cruising boat equals big f**k off forces on the cleats. He must have been happy with the answer because he stopped asking questions and phoned the harbour team to bring more cleats.
Meanwhile, we had broken another cleat, and Fi was standing there ropes and a threatening cleat in her hands trying to stop it from scratching up her nicely patched hull wrapping.
About three hours after the surge started the harbour team turned up with extra cleats after the boss man had gone up there and directed. Fi had been up there twice already asking for more cleats, explaining that we were slowing shearing through their current ones. This didn’t seem to register with them, and we can only put it down to Fi being as cool as a cucumber, or the “salty proper sailing dudes” thinking she was overreacting.
We replaced the four broken ones, added numerous more and secured the now fourteen dock lines to multiple cleats each to reduce the loads on a single cleat.
Secure at last? Every dock line we had and the tow rope. Four broken cleats.
Six hours later, the tide had dropped and the cill was doing its work, stopping the massive surge. Dinner, and a sleep.
The next day we took a closer look at the dock and what had failed. The first cleats had sheared off under the snatch loads. A retired Rolls Royce engineer on the dock told us they were cast aluminium with significant cavities that were destined to fail under load. Cheap and nasty were his words.
The dock also used a rail system for the cleats that had allowed us to easily move the cleats from other parts of the dock. In some cases one end of the cleat had ripped out of the dock and then twisted and snapped the other end off. In other cases, as we surged backwards and forwards, the cleats simply moved on the rails, backwards and forwards in time with us. Not particularly secure.
Remains of a cleat. The left end ripped out of the slot and then the cleat twisted and tore the other end off. Looks like a good solid system for row boats.
Compare these to more solid cleats that we see on most docks in this region.
Sometimes it seems like cruising is a journey of dispelling assumptions (‘people offering to take lines on the dock know how to tie off a line’, ‘mooring buoys are safe to moor on’). We used to assume cleats were strong enough to tie on to. Not now. We have officially become ‘cleatist’.
Before the next blow is due, we decided to grab another weather window for our next destination.
Last time we left Salcombe extraordinarily early in the morning and headed south.
Is it like this every morning?
It was Fi’s seventh channel crossing so we had some idea what to expect. This time it would be light winds to start and stronger winds and squalls with waves against tide later… something to look forward to. Plus it is the busiest shipping channel in the world, so Fi warmed up her “radio voice” in preparation for calling up the ships to ensure they were aware of our presence.
The tankers and cargo ships all exited the traffic separation area and took turns trying to hit us.If you look in the right direction you can pretend they aren’t there.
The ride into Guernsey got quite squally and bumpy as predicted. We were surprised by the number of tuna in the channel, several times seeing groups of them jumping out of the water and chasing fish.
We had just put the sails down and were motoring towards port when this lined us up for some 30 knot winds and hail. Welcome to Guernsey! It had been 2 knots of wind prior to this hitting us.Hmm…stay-inside weatherThe beautiful St Peters Port.
Settled weather encouraged us to head to the nearby island of Sark. This was a momentous occasion as it completed our circumnavigation of… somewhere. We had last been to Sark after picking up the boat although we weren’t allowed ashore as it was covid times.
The anchorage at Sark. Less fog than last time we were here.A taller ship parked nearby.We go ashore on Sark. Its not the flattest islandExploring the windy roads of Sark.Some harbours even had tunnels to access them through the steep cliffs
How long can one handle a rolling house. 2 days, 3 days? Sark was such an interesting place to visit. There are no cars, historic places, natural beauty, and a rolly anchorage. So after a couple of nights, we realised that the boat was feeling flatter than the land, so we’d better leave for a less rolly anchorage.
Bye bye Sark. We decide to move to the south coast of Guernsey.All the anchorages here have good sunsets
Around to the south side of Guernsey, we find a beautiful anchorage with a white sand beach. Oh, but its just as rolly. Fortunately, as the tide drops, the beach becomes a vast expanse of still, hard, flat – did I mention still – land. We enjoyed a few days on the beach as a respite to the rolly boat.
We find our own beach. At least at low tide. It completely disappears at high tide, sometimes even before the BBQ has finished cooking!Big ears is a little hard of hearing these days, so doesn’t get off lead time as much as he used to. He was very happy to have multiple days off lead on his own beach.
We’d read that during World War 2, Guernsey was occupied by the Nazis, which neither of us actually knew. Close by to this anchorage was the “Occupation Museum” detailing what life was like during this time, so for a nice day off the rolly boat we headed up there for a good walk, and a look at all the artefacts found on the island after the occupation ended. The allies landed in St Peter Port where we would later moor Away.
Completely sick of the rolling, we elected to motor around the corner and back to bustling St Peter Port for some more touring of historic sites.
Returning to St Peter Port we find some old guns on a hill overlooking the port. This is the Clarence Battery built in 1779. Originally all the gun emplacements were set to point at France, but when the Nazi’s were occupying they built on top and extended it to have guns also pointing north, towards any raiding parties from England.And others inside the hill. An second world war fuel bunker was now a museum of military paraphernalia. There was a lot left behind when the Germans left at the end of the war.
We learnt about the German occupation of the Channel Islands during WW2 at the several museums housing war artifacts. The Germans heavily fortified the islands. Rather than retake them by force, the allies negotiated their surrender at the end of the war, almost a year after the D day landings a few miles away. Many relics remained on the islands and have found their way into the museums.
Next time we destroy the dock in St Peters Port and explain Newtonian physics to a nice yet cranky man in a mild gale.
Last time we had been engine testing and exploring some of the Cornish coast. The time had come to use the remainder of the season to head south to France. First we wanted to visit the Channel Islands. We had ‘visited’ Sark, one of the Channel Islands, during Covid, but had not been able to go ashore or visit any of the other islands.
Bye bye Penryn and friends at Volvo
Tides are everything in this area and we could only leave Penryn around high tide (given that Away sits in the mud here until the high water comes in) which wasn’t the best time to head along the coast as the current would be pushing against us. Therefore, it seemed like an ideal opportunity to visit the often recommended Pandora Inn for dinner before catching the tide along the coast the next morning.
Bernie was so popular at the pub, while Adrian was ordering at the bar, a fellow asked Fi if he could breed with him. After a pause, Fi realised he was wanting puppies with his own springer spaniel, who incidentally was a boy. So after Fi explained that despite his feminine looks, he’s a boy as well, but has had the chop chop, we all had a laugh about spaniel antics, and he was on his way, perhaps to harass other pretty springer owners.
Cornwall is full of pretty boats.
The next day, sailing along the coast, we passed Plymouth which has a big naval presence and a live firing range just offshore. A German warship announced it was about to start firing as we passed but we didn’t see any explosions.
Lots of big grey boats in this area using their serious voices on the radio. This is the HMS St Albans.
It had been suggested that ‘If you want to visit Plymouth, go the the River Yealm and take a taxi’. Indeed the Yealm was another delightfully protected river along this stretch of coast. Strong tidal currents and range meant mooring buoys and mid stream pontoons are the normal fare. There was even a sand bar across the river entrance to remind us of home. The channel is so hidden in the plethora of moored boats, we were motoring slowly along following the “water” behind a row boat who was looking quizzically at us as we edged closer and closer to the shallows. Realising, Fi pointed out the port marker, and a quick turn, and a laugh and head shake from the rower, Away was back on the correct track. I guess they see that a lot here.
Away tied up to the visitors pontoon. We missed the note about which way to point.
We take the dinghy over to the harbour office pontoon, for our little wander through town and to give Bernie a much needed walk. Before we knew it we were at the first pub the “Dolphin Inn” eating yet another pub meal with a pint.
Low tide is not the time to go fishing.
Not content that we had properly “earned” our pub meal and pint, we walked the long way around, to yet another pub, called “The Swan Inn” where we felt perhaps we could earn another pint.
Hmm, we walked across there only ten minutes ago.
And then finally, we felt we better earn that pint and walk to the third pub the “Ship Inn” for the final pint of the day before we then earned that pint, walking the long way back around because by this time the tide had come in and we were cut off – from walking. Not beer.
They even put cocktail umbrellas in our pints at this pub…
Bernie found a woodland area that was looked after by locals and tried to make us chase squirrels. We wandered through the streets. Many of the cottages had been replaced with modern glass boxes that would look at home in Sydney’s harbour suburbs. Like many of the Cornish seaside villages we’d visited, so many properties are now holidays homes or holiday lets. It seemed like every second property had a key box outside.
Feeling a little more confident as to where the channel is in the River Yealm, and also about how the tide flows, we left at a reasonable time in the morning after a couple of days enjoying the serenity. The Yealm is so packed with moored boats, and the tide runs so fast, they have some tips and tricks in their cruising guide as to how to avoid collisions.
Next stop along the coast was Salcombe. From Salcombe it would be a doable day hop across the channel to the Channel Islands.
We sailed the 4 or so hours over to Salcombe, and came through the tight channel that denotes the “deep” water to the west of yet another giant sandbar that crosses the harbour entrance, and were promptly met with the harbour master who just said “how can we help you?” – whilst this greeting was not what we expected, we simply said we needed water and a mooring place, and were helpfully guided to both.
Pina Colada in the sun in Salcombe. Almost like we had made it to the Mediterranean after allHouses in Salcombe are coloured his/hers for simplicity.
Salcombe is a very pretty place, and after a few days, which included taking the bus to the vets for Bernie’s annual shots, we were looking at a good weather window to make the channel crossing.
We all got some R & R before the big crossingWe were up well before sunrise to make sure we used all the daylight for the trip across the Channel.
Next time we finally get to visit the Channel Islands!
If you managed to read to the end of the previous blog, you would have noted that the kind Volvo people told us not to start our engine, and that they would come and tow us from the Helford River where we were anchored just south from Falmouth. Something was dreadfully wrong with our engine again.
We spent another couple of days on anchor in Helford, enjoying the area, waiting for our lift.
On the Monday (22nd July) they came, and we tried out our still in original packaging tow line, lifted anchor and were towed from Helford up to Penryn, which is up the river from Falmouth. It was a strange feeling. Obviously to all observing, we were being towed, to be honest it was a little embarrassing, but I guess it happens.
The fellows from FYB Marine here to help us.Almost there.And here in our berth. This is low tide, we came in at high tide when there was actual water.
Towed up to Penryn, we settled into our berth which I found out later is the “very broken boat” berth. We discussed the ins and outs of what would happen, and agreed that getting a whole new engine was the best way to go. We had to get a new gearbox anyway as Volvo had recalled ours, and clearly our engine was pretty upset given the oil level was now about 20cm above max and looking like a lovely mixture of coolant, oil and seawater – and we hadn’t even switched it on. For peace of mind, new engine.
Begin the cardboarding of the interal structures in Away for protection, discussing how to get the old one out, ordering of new lifts and things for the yard, discussions about aluminium boats and insulating electricity, discussions with Garcia, and eventually, the fateful day where we leave the yard and have some time in a hotel in town. Feeling confident, its best we leave the experts to do what they do. I know I would be bothering them asking a million questions, so I’m happy to let them get on with it.
Town walkings.We took a trip one day down to Porthleven which was beautiful.And suffers from the same tides.We spot our shining new engine on the test bed.And go for a walk with Falmouth uncovered for an evening of ghost stories.From the local pub we can see Away in the mud.We decided to try our hand at some art while we waited for the new engine to be installed.And we connect with Adrian’s cousin!
A few days later, we are invited back to Away, happily humming with the sound of her new Volvo Penta D275. Complete with an extra temperature sensor.
Off we go to commission the new engine which involves monitoring speed and revs, getting it up to the highest revs and checking temperatures and for leaks etc.
Going back to our berth from trying out the engine all day was a gorgeous and relaxing afternoon.
All seems well. We do some more sea trials and the optimism starts to creep in again. We are all feeling a lot more comfortable, the engine sounds brilliant and the new gearbox is a lot quieter.
So we went sailing on someone elses boat… Actually we were invited to go out racing for Falmouth Week in the Champagne Race. We came third in that, and our friends came second overall for the week. It was a fun day in the sun!
Spinnaker flying!Here we are with the captain. We were being serious racers I promise.The previous 2 days racing for the team had been a bit sporty, but happily when we went, it was perfect.
As our confidence grows, we take a trip over to Fowey in Away (pronounced “Foy“) and enjoy the local sights and sounds.
Pretty place, and some great summer weather!We scoped this boat coming in…Guess they are our new neighbours.
And as I type this, we are finalising the collection of various packages, planning a good clean of Away, and looking at weather windows to finally get on and do what we do.
We want to find out what happened to the old engine. No one seems to know. Not the 5 engineers we have spoken to, not Volvo, not us. There are many theories being banded about, but none of them quite fit. What we do know is we are very happy with this better kind of normal we find ourselves in. The engine does sound overall better.
We arrived in Guninessland and did some touring around Belfast. We were waiting for a half decent weather window to head south, but apparently this time of year everyone heads north, according to the wind anyway. After Glenarm we sailed south to Bangor, which is an excellent and safe marina to visit Belfast in Northern Ireland. It was all big ships, big cities and black cabs.
Bernie checking out the dry dock in the middle of Belfast. We need antifoul soon right mum?Finding cute laneways and historic pubs in Belfast was fun.And what is not to love about live Irish music?We have our own Titanic “King of the World” moment at the Titanic museum.And it was so cool to think that the Titanic was launched from just here. Amazing.
While we were waiting for the wind to be our friend, we decided to hire a car and head to Derry where we would have liked to have sailed to, but… sailing timings don’t always work.
We saw the murals accidentally. I’d wanted to go to the cemetery to see if I could find relatives, and to walk back to town, we walked back right through the middle of Bogside which is where a lot of the “Troubles” occurred.The cemetery where I looked for McCarron’s (my birth name). I think I found some relations but only my Aunty Jean will know for sure.Heeeey thats my name!We went on a walking tour of Derry and now I’m keen to watch the rest of Derry Girls for sure. What a beautiful place full of history. I’d go back.We tried to see the Giant’s Causeway after we left Derry, but it was absolutely packed with tourists, so we saw this castle instead. Bernie was intrigued.
Finally, we get the weather to head on down to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leery) which is right near Dublin and where we would pick up our guest Ryan, Adrian’s son!
The lifeboat had a shout to help someone with a lobster pot wrapped around their prop.The sun is shining and we are sailing along.The happiest of sailors.The sleepiest of sailors. Someone better tell him to turn his blanket over to the plain blue side as we are heading out of the UK now. Arriving near Dublin very soon!Irish flag going up!We had to wait outside in the harbour for a while to let 2 big ships cross our path before getting in. This is Dublin from the bay.And then, Ryan arrives! No jet lag here, nope!
So, again the weather decided to favour those heading north, but no matter as it meant we could explore the Guinness Factory, Temple Bar, general Dubliness etc.
We visit the Guinness Factory and I guess I look like a nice person who should take a photo of a million German football fans.Guinness is mostly water I learned. Its also DELICIOUS.Guinness Clear is very refreshing.Temple Bar TICK!And I made the boys come out to see Riverdance. I cried almost the entire time. It was so fantastic – I used to do a little Irish Dancing and I just love it.
Whilst the winds were more favourable for heading north, we did have some nice weather and decided to take Ryan out for a test sail. He did an excellent job helming upwind for a while, getting his sea legs.
Test sail check! Look at that confidence.
Adrian and Ryan take a trip north to show Ryan a bit of Northern Ireland.
The Dark Hedges from Game of Thrones fame.And Adrian finally gets to see the Giant’s Causeway!Happiness is!The perfect day for it. I stayed at home as I have been there before, and I could just do… at home things.
The next day, the winds decided to turn, and we could head south, stopping overnight in Arklow, then on to Kilmore Quay for a few days.
A very early start was required to get the right tides from Arklow so I think we were there for like 10 hours.But alas, whilst we got the tides, the winds died to less than predicted so we had to motor for a little while.We found great coffee in Kilmore Quay right near the marina.And a most excellent beach. Although I felt compelled to pick up the ridiculous amount of rubbish (to the left of me). Also, Bernie forgot who his owner was and ran off to another lady so there was a lot of running and shouting at the deaf spaniel. Quite an exciting beach in the end.
After all this beautiful weather and beach walking, we decided England was calling and we should push off and do a decent passage down to the Scilly Isles. I had been to the islands previously on the ferry, and I had also tacked up and down near them when I did the Fastnet last year, but had never sailed here so it was a real treat to get into the islands and anchor up. Not so much of a treat tacking for about 10 hours though. We called it, and put the big metal sail on to get in before Adrian and I passed out.
A very very bumpy start to a 24 hour passage.But we’re all good and sailing along nicely.We lost the wind a bit, and it shifted around, so after a lot of tacking, our morning arrival turned into an afternoon arrival. But here we are, safe and sound in the Scilly Islands.
A few days on the Scillys were brilliant and felt like we were almost on a tropical holiday, except that we enjoyed cream teas.
Bernie loves the dinghy.Looking pretty in the anchorage on St Martins Island.Some confusion about brunch pints. They come in half pints, even though you say pint.
The weather was due to come in, and whilst we would have been fine at the Scilly’s, our passenger was due to get back to France to fly back home so we chose a fabulous day to sail across from the Scilly’s to Falmouth in Cornwall.
Looks almost tropical! Good bye Scilly’s for now!We see these guys along the way.Happy to be sailing in the sunshine. Last year this would have been snow.Tied up on the “Super Yacht” dock in Falmouth. Awwww yeah. Ok, we moved the next day.Burgers and beers after a passage are a good tonic.
It was here, we decided that whilst we are seasoned sailors, expecting someone who has never sailed before to do ocean passages with us was unreasonable, and perhaps some land based activities were in order. So off we went to London, and on to Paris.
Yep, that’s a big house.And a big tower!And a big West End show!And a big old bus randomly at the back of a pub that used to be the Bank of England. What a town, I love London so much.On to Paris for another big tower!And a big arch.And a big pyramid, with some of the worlds biggest artists.
Its in Paris where we wave goodbye to Ryan as he heads home to Australia. Thanks Ryan for coming!
Back on Away in Falmouth, again the weather decided we shouldn’t leave the south of England unless we wanted to motor everywhere, so we explored Falmouth, until the fateful day, we realised we could do the quick little 5 mile sail into the Helford River, just south from town. Its a beautiful place.
But… The engine was hard to start.
It started and we sailed, and enjoyed a few beautiful days in the Helford. What an absolute gem of a place.
I must admit, all the photos in this blog are sunny. I think we just took photos when it was sunny.Sunny. This was the path down to the ferry. We just wandered down to look, but we had the dinghy.CANNOT have enough thatched cottages. Ok, I may have heard Kylie Minogue used to come here, or had a house here. And also various famous rockers from the 70s have houses here, but I don’t know who they are and Adrian is asleep now as I write this, so you’ll just have to google.Yup it is a special place. Helford.Anchored up here safely in the Helford river. 5 miles from Falmouth.
Our plan was to head to Fowey (pronounced Foy) next. Engine checks done, oil looks funny and for some reason is really really high – way above max. Darn it… We should call the Volvo people in Falmouth. Call made. Advice, “yeeeeeaaaah don’t start that engine, we’ll come and get you”. Stay tuned.
