We left the dock at Dinan with admiring onlookers almost as surprised as me as Away negotiated the narrow channel missing the bank and other craft by thrillingly small margins.
The first lock would drop us into the tidal area. If we had calculated correctly the gates would open to a wide navigable waterway. If not we would find a muddy puddle in which to wait for the next tide. Bernie showed his level of confidence by jumping off the boat as we sank into the lock. His name and a number of Australian colloquialisms are now well known at the lock.
The lock doors opened to a somewhat narrower channel than we had imagined, but it was at least navigable. Our 1.2m draft with the centre board up allowed us to negotiate shallow sections, although at one point our depth gauge showed 0.9m!
We arrived at the second lock just after the hourly intake of vessels, and were relieved when they re-opened the lock doors for us. We made our way into St Malo marina as the sun set over the walled town. After our first aborted attempt to dock, the young men from the lightweight racing boat next to us generously helped guide our 17 tons of aluminium past their delicate carbon fibre bow sprit.
No rest at St Malo this time as the weather was perfect the next day to head north. We left at dawn, negotiating the rocky channel to open water as the Condor car ferry caught us and quickly disappeared north at 30 knots. We tested the radar which successfully identified a number of small craft not on AIS. At one point it showed a headland not on the map, made more concerning as it was on our course. We later realised it was the ‘glow’ of the local nuclear power plant.
We had been warned our destination, Dielette, was not much more than a marina with not much to see. With such an impressive recommendation we were not surprised to find miles of perfect dog walking beach complete with Baguettery at the end, and a cafe serving hearty end of sailing trip meals and sunset drinks. The following day the quiet marina turned into a circus as a flotilla of 20 yachts carrying handicapped sailors competed for jetty space with thousands aspiring Vendee Globe kids in their oppie dinghies.
The Alderney race stood between us and Cherbourg. The tide here can run at 9 knots which is a recipe for a very bad day out if its against you. We planned and replanned, and then talked to the marina people, and talked to local yachties on the dock, we walked the harbour wall at low tide to spot the shallow spots, and re-planned again. At low tide we couldn’t leave the harbour (even with our newly discovered shallower draft), but we needed to leave as close to low tide as possible to hit the race just as the tide turned.
All the planning paid off and we exited the harbour with 2m depth, and motor sailed to the race arriving as the tide turned. We even took a short cut across a shoal (usually rough) area as the tide picked up and spat us out at over 4 knots. The big red sail came out and we hit 10 knots over ground with only 5 knots through the water. No need to look out for crab pots as the current would flatten them just under the surface…just enjoy the sunset. We arrived after dark, but friends directed us to a free berth, helped with the lines and even fed and wined us. The perfect end to our Normandy adventure.
