Boulogne was an active fishing port with more bustle and less tourists than some places we had been along the coast.
Bernie was super excited about a French smelling town again, and especially one with lots of fishy smells. He started demanding a walk around the town as soon as daylight appeared. He wasn’t disappointed and pulled us up the hill to the old town in search of cafes and fallen chips. We returned in time for the nice gendarmes from Calais to visit the boat and stamp our passports.
Spring time in the old town of BoulogneWe went straight out for bread and wine – and I enjoyed this for dinner.Something more substantial for lunch the next day, 3 course meal with wine – happy to be back!
The forecast for the second day after we arrived was originally ‘a spicy day out’, then increased to ‘you won’t need extra chilli with this’ and finally ‘this is going to spoil your whole day’. We headed out to the harbour entry channel on foot and thanked the clever weather forecasting people for telling us the best day to sail. When all the fishing boats stay in port, its a good day to stay on land.
When calm conditions returned the fishing boats on the wharf opposite us left in the middle of the night (ok, maybe dawn) and returned to sell their fish on the quay opposite us in time for our morning(ish) walk. The fish shops are a famous tourist haunt for the town and sell everything off the boats fresh.
We bought fresh fish fillets, oysters and these whelks from the market. Beautiful with some garlic butter.
We thought we might head to Dunkirk next, but found this little town (Gravelines) accessed by a drying canal that was reported to be super friendly but a little tricky to get to. Red flag to a bull… we were going. They can fit 15m boats and we are no more than 14.5 (ish). We snuck out of Boulogne just after lunch to ensure arrival at the canal entrance at high tide.
The coast was surprisingly rural as we approached Calais. I did an extensive rigging check from the front deck.
As we approached Calais the wind picked up to over 20 knots and the choppy waves from behind made it too rolly for sunning oneself on the foredeck. The ferries on the Calais-Dover run kept coming to say hello and look at our boat. I was later informed we were crossing a ferry lane.
We arrived at the entry channel which was distractingly narrow and had 2 knots of tide crossing it. It seemed like we were approaching at 45 degrees to the channel. I steered a course so we safely crabbed our way into the channel, with Fi watching the chart plotter and the seas closely, and shouting “more to starboard!” to ensure we wouldn’t hit the port side wall. After a few km of channel we squeezed through a lock gate and pulled up at pontoon 2 in the marina. Curiously all the other boats seemed much smaller than us.
Gravelines used to be a vibrant port on the coast, but silting led to its decline as a trading port. These days its more sedate with rotund older gentlemen snoozing on their boats in the emerging spring sunshine trying to recall the boat jobs they were doing today.
The town still has a moat and walled defenses. Fi jumped the moat in a single bound.
This is another example of the architecture of the Marquis de Vauban a French engineer, who was responsible for a number of fortifications along the coast, some of which we saw when we cruised in Brittany. He is thought to be one of the greatest engineers of his time. The town centre is shaped as a star with the moat around the outside.
Beautiful moat with the fortifications for the town.Taking a bike ride through town and around the moat. Bernie was having some mandatory rest at home.Having completed her ride through the fountain, Fi wondered about the type of water it might be….Looking towards the sea. To the left of this picture, the canal continues to the marina. This is not quite low tide yet.
Low tide at the marina gave both of us a shock when we left one morning. We could clearly see the bottom, and boats on the inside pontoons would sink into the soft mud. We remained floating, as we were placed on the outer pontoon. This boat looked like it had been settling in the mud now for a few years.
We are keen to see a little more of this coast line, and on our next trip we visit Dunkirk in France, and also plan our next country change into Belgium, leaving behind cheese and baguettes, for chocolate and beer.
It was finally time to shake off our winter inertia and venture out into a world beyond Eastbourne.
The passage to Boulogne is 50 miles in a straight line. But the tide goes from 0 up to 3 knots sideways so a straight line is a curved line. And then there are shipping channels that you must cross at 90 degrees. But you must point across at 90 degrees so with the tide it might be 75 degrees or 105 degrees. And the shipping channels change direction so 90 degrees might point you East and a few miles away 90 degrees might point you East North East. But at least we are sure about our boat speed because it is dependent on the wind and the forecasted direction and strength is always right.
So we started with a plan, and then we changed it, and changed it again as the conditions changed.
Eastbourne marina had been a friendly sheltered harbour for Away over winter. Dinner at the Grand Hotel and catching up with friends were highlights. But Bernie never quite fell in love with pebble beaches and the local Harvester never felt like our local. It was time to return to the land of baguettes and fine wine. At 5 am the alarm reminded us sailing in tidal areas is not always on our preferred timetable.
The Eastbourne lock dropped us a disconcerting distance into the exit channel.
We slowly made our way out with the center board raised for extra clearance.
The wind was behind us and our recent practice with the pole was put to good use. This used to be one of our favorite ways to sail on Addictive and Away seems equally happy with this configuration.
We managed to get further along the coast than we expected before picking our moment to dodge the big ships in the shipping channel. Our path successfully avoided 5 of them but the last looked a little close.
A couple of minutes later Fi appeared on deck looking suitably chuffed and announced she had chatted to the ship and it was changing direction for us!
The wind and waves built to 20 knots and 1-2 meters as we scooted across the no-mans-land between the east and west shipping channel. We experimented with some reefs and different sail configurations. It was looking as if we might sail a straight line to Boulogne if the wind continued and we hit the shipping channel far enough north.
Bernie was flat out helping with everything.
There was one ship that was on a collision course with us, but Fi jumped on the radio and soon had him sorted out.
I was just commenting that we had 30 minutes till the edge of the shipping channel and then we would need a close look out for crab pots, when a crab pot whistled past a few meters to starboard. We were back in French waters.
Approaching the French coast the waves started reflecting off the shore and it became more and more confused. Away handled it with ease but we were extra careful when going forward on deck.
We had made the crossing faster than expected, and once safely docked we did perform arrival formalities: wee on the dock (Bernie), buy baguettes and red wine (Fi & Adrian).
We also did the other more boring arrival formalities, such as filling in forms, and getting a visit from the lovely police officers from Calais who drove down to visit us especially and give us the much coveted stamp in our passports.
The next day the entrance to the harbour looked slightly different with gusts into the 50s! We might stay here a few days till it calms down. Boulogne is the biggest fishing port in France, so there is plenty of food to keep us interested.
As we moved east from the Solent the anchorages became more spread out and many of the smaller ones require you to sink into the lovely soft mud at low tide. We were done with mud. At Brighton, however, there is no mud, and promising only a dose of nostalgia as we had both worked there in former lives. The forecast predicted a single day of sturdy sailing weather to make the passage before a week of rambunctious conditions.
We didn’t have enough information to conclude if the Chichester harbour entrance bar would be too dangerous after several days of strong onshore winds and an ebbing tide. So leaving our mooring at first light we surveyed the entrance and decided it was safe to head out as there were no big breaking waves to be seen. It was bouncy and we took it slow to avoid any crockery cracking airborne moments.
Soon the sails were raised with some appropriate reefs and we were zipping along the coast albeit against a knot of tide. Rounding Selsey Bill and entering The Looe (why did Cook give us ‘One Tree Island’ in Australia when he came from a land of such interesting place names – even ‘The New Looe’ would have been preferable) required navigating between a port and starboard marker only a few hundred meters apart. The crab pot marker set right in middle of this tiny channel could hardly have been more maliciously placed.
This looks like a good spot for a crab pot
Fi enjoyed some downstairs time out of the wind. The view from here is surprisingly good under the sails and the added safety of being warm, dry and relatively fresh cannot be understated. Its tiring being on deck in the chilling wind and sea spray but some of the crew find a perverse enjoyment in the elements.
Apparently you can sail through this wind mine which must be an interesting experience. We spied a small yacht on the AIS doing just that. As conditions were getting more rolly we took a direct route to the marina at Brighton.
The marina wall has been designed to reflect the waves back out to amplify the incoming waves. The resulting turmoil with some good tidal flow can make entry quite entertaining. I snapped the photo below of the entrance channel just after we entered (left) and the same channel when we departed (on the right).
The marina is a healthy dog walk from the main pier. Bernie the well travelled dog prefers his beaches with white sand, turquoise water and shallows to chase the fishies. At least we don’t end up with a boat full of pebbles after a walk on the beach here.
Whilst the sea boiled outside the marina we set about revisiting Brighton. It remained much as we remembered it, although the new doughnut on stick was difficult to miss. The touristy pier and beach front look a little tired during the colder months so we spent our time in the little lane ways and cosy pubs.
Brighton turned out to be the place to test mooring lines and our fender configuration. We added to our fender collection and then watched as the wind and wave surges tested them out. After a day watching over the boat as the wind gusted over 40 knots in the marina, we were pleased to return to land and catch up with some former work colleagues for dinner.
More settled weather returned and a gentle drift along the coast was in order. We learned more about tides. Our plan was to have a small amount of tide with us for the whole trip. But a late start meant the tide was already against us and we kept getting further and further behind the changing tide and ended up fighting it all the way. Still, white cliffs, gentle seas and a short distance meant we could meander along and watch the world go past. This butterfly joined us for some sunshine.
The entrance to Eastbourne can be a little shallow and indeed a local yacht following us ran aground. Did we say we appreciate our lifting centre board almost every day? The Eastbourne harbour RIB could not free them but, fortunately it was almost low tide and so they did not have too long to wait to float off. These photos show low tide with the unfortunate grounded yacht and high tide in the same channel.
The harbour is inside a lock to keep the water level fairly constant. We are getting used to these locks although they are all slightly different. In this one the pontoons on each side are floating so you can tie up to them while the water fills/empties the lock. Its a lot easier than adjusting lines as you rise or fall.
The weather in Eastbourne is much more settled than Brighton with long periods of still conditions. A local told us it has the highest solar index in the UK the met office confirms its 2nd and holds the record for most sun in a month since 1911. One might ponder if this is like claiming the highest mountain in Australia or best surf spot in Switzerland, however, as the available daylight hours dwindle our vitamin D levels need all the help they can get.
No fender testing here
We reached our first pole during the trip. Not quite as well known as the north and south poles but significant all the same…
Eastbourne is one of the more sheltered harbours we have visited, with good dog walking close by, plus a supply of food and beer. We might stay here a while.
With the family reunited on Away we set about making plans and exploring Portland. Bernie demanded a squirrel hunt and Fi wanted to visit the wool shop that never opens, so we set out along the old railway track up the hill to Castletown. The last of the seasons blackberries lined the track discussing if they would be better in jam or pies. We chose the jam ones and collected a bag of willing participants.
The headland overlooks a long section of coast and has long been used for coastal defence. We passed disused gaols, forts and quarries and arrived at the wool shop which did not disappoint. As with all English walks, a convenient doggie friendly pub popped up for restorative pie and ale.
Bernie and Fi worked out the route to the next pub and we were soon heading to our next stop on the ‘beach’ front.
All the best walks end in a dog bath and a clean fluffy satisfied dog…
Now in England we had to decide whether to turn left or right. We gathered all the ingredients for the decision: covid rules, visa enquiries, dog laws, sailing conditions, marina costs, mixed them round for a while with a pinch of indecision and decided to turn right. The latest plan is to cross the channel to Europe early next year and make our way north along the coast and eventually the Baltic.
Turning right: Portland (Weymouth) to Poole
News arrived that Away was to get some new crew: Sorana and Nigel who we had met in Bath (last blog) were mad enough to come sailing for the weekend and would be joining us in Portland!
Light winds on Saturday afternoon provided perfect conditions for a training session and a false sense of security. The big red sail came out and we soon had the crew doing all the work. Eventually the wind died completely and we puttered back to the dock past a loitering cruise ship as the sun set over the pebbly beach.
A relaxing passage along the coast to Poole the next day was planned over dinner.
The coast was spectacular east of Portland and despite its inhospitable cliffs there are nooks and headlands providing enough shelter for a lunch stop. Sorana and Nigel had walked some sections of the Jurassic coast walk which follows this section of coast and now got to see it from the water.
A rolly stop for lunch resulted in a case of sea sickness and Dr Bernie was called in to help.Poole came into view as the light was fading.
We rounded the headland which was a little choppy, but as we came closer to our destination, the seas flattened out and everyone felt better. There is a chain ferry at the entrance to Poole Harbour, so after some discussions attempting to predict its next move, we decided to gun it past while it was still loading cars and head up towards our marina.
We said goodbye to Nigel and Sorana until next time, and again, found ourselves with a pint at the pub. The winds looked good the next day for the short hop to the Isle of Wight, but we would need to leave on the middle of the night (ok 6:30am really) to avoid unpleasant wind against tide conditions.
We spent a few fun days in Cherbourg catching up with new friends and tidying up the boat. We were about to enact our complex plan to get to the UK to save our remaining Schengen visa days, and to get the dog into the UK – you might remember the UK’s very strict rules on dogs entering on private yachts.
Bernie staring at our lovely neighbours who just want to eat their dinner.
We packed all our things, and one very very early morning, left the boat and drove down to Caen and got through the plethora of paperwork to get on the ferry to Portsmouth. Little Bernie had to stay in the hire car, but we enjoyed a little shut eye, some food, some random quiz and some suitably calming live music on the ferry.
We got through the UK customs uneventfully, and we were off to our airbnb in the countryside. About half way there I realised that no one that we encountered in he UK gave two hoots about the dog. I wondered if we were being WAYY too straighty-one-eighty by following all the rules perfectly. Hmmm.
We had 2 weeks in the country. We walked and walked, ran some errands to the swindleries (read chandleries) and set up a few things to make life easier once we were able to get Away in too.
Our trip to the chandleries garnered this lovely encounter in Lymington.
The Quantock hills presented us with some challenging walks, fantastic pubs and a few times, a lost dog. Bernie has discovered squirrels. He’s never seen anything like them before and is absolutely obsessed. He eventually comes back. We also think he has discovered pheasants.
The first scents of squirrelsWell, that’s going to need a bath later.He’s living his best life.I’m very happy to be walking the hills. My new hiking boots are cutting the mustard too.Bernie is loving his world and fits right in.The weather has been magic. Rainy when its okay to, and sunny when we want it to be.Speechless. They weren’t bothered by us or Bernie at all.
We are also lucky enough to have family and friends everywhere and so we visited Langford near Bristol for a few days to catch up with friends who generously also let us stay in their gorgeous home. Bernie had a great walk on the beach on one occasion and I am living for this face.
Little bubba loving his world here!
Speaking of seeing wonderful people, we were able to catch up with my family as well who are living in London. They came all the way out to Bath to see us and we had a great lunch and look around Bath for a day.
At the pub in Bath. Bernie is suitably well behaved under the table – not.Love Bath!
In the meantime Away was being looked after by the good folk at Garcia and the few warranty issues we had found were being corrected – oh and I should mention we ordered a new room for the boat – its a conservatory! Well, its a set of canvas and clears for the outside area to turn it into essentially an outside room.
Yay our new outside room! Perfect for the cooler weather.
All the work gets done on the boat and it is signed off as good to go, Bernie gets put into a kennel for a few days (much to his dismay, but frankly at this point he can take one for the team), and we head back to France for our overnight stay – which is all we have left on our visa!
Driving on to the ferry at Portsmouth bound for Caen. We have only 2 days left on our European visa!
The Channel crossing is our next challenge in Away. We had timed our trip back so that we would have benign or decent weather to get back to the UK. We were planning to sail from Cherbourg to Portland Marina, which is in the harbour which hosted the sailing events for the London Olympics back in 2012. We’d done a recky on the harbour and felt pretty good about it.
We checked out from France at the cop shop in Cherbourg, managed a last minute French grocery shop (wine) and had an early night ready to leave the next day at sparrows fart (I mean 06:00 sharp).
So at 06:30 we left.
It was sad to leave beautiful France, but alas…
And headed out into the inky blackness, leaving the jewellery box of Cherbourg behind us. There are no crab pots in the dark, so we pointed towards our destination, and come what may, in 10 hours we’d be in the UK.
A low light photo of the darkness.Adrian caught the photo of the day when the sun started rising.
‘Come what may’ was one of the worlds busiest shipping channels, but we played this video game with life (pictured) that looks like some sort of space invaders, except its real big ships and our relatively little boat… We are the black boat shape pointed north – the big ships are the triangle shaped outlines. We navigated this fine. The ships weren’t interested in chatting to us about navigation, which is okay because being quite introverted, we didn’t want to talk to them either (although we did try to be fair).
This is the first channel of west to east traffic, then further north is the east to west channel.
And the 10 hours turned into 11 hours… and then it turned out we messed up the tides and currents, it’ll be 12 hours.
We get our “Q” flag out at the 12 mile mark so that the UK authorities know we have come from another country and need to be checked in. Is a plain yellow flag that we need to fly on the starboard side. This is the first time we have flown this flag.
Once we are checked into the UK, we fly the red ensign flag as that is the appropriate flag for the UK. When we were in France, we flew the French flag on the starboard side, and as we change to subsequent countries, we will fly their flag. It is part of the rules of being a seafarer to fly the courtesy flag of the country you are sailing in. We fly the Australian flag off the stern as Away is registered in Australia. Sydney in fact – even though it has never been there.
The first time we get our “Q” flag out.I’m so excited clearly
Oh yes back to our passage. Sorry everyone… the 10 – 12 hours will actually be 14 hours of motor sailing and getting in just as the world turned dark because we used the wrong information for the strength of the tide – but we got to Portland! And we have learned some good lessons along the way.
Beautiful scenery as we sail along the coast.I was willing the sun to stay up a little longer as we headed in to the harbour area at Portland.
So the whole family is here! And the authorities say we’re all allowed! Negative PCR tests, and Bernie has been collected from prison.
We’re here in Portland for a few days, and we are planning on changing plans at the moment. As usual.
We loved being in the relative comfort of the inner basin at St Malo. We could walk easily the couple of minutes in through the ramparts and into the old town, with its plethora of fish shops, boulangeries, boutiques and restaurants.
Away sitting in the inner basin at St Malo.Adrian walking in St Malo, just inside the main walls.More walking the streets in St MaloSo much history here.The cathedral here was quiet and peaceful.One of the entries into the old town.
We enjoyed some food and cider, and a few walks. We noticed that at low tide, it was possible to walk out to the small island called “Grand Be”, and then on to “Fort du Petit Be” so on our last full day at St Malo, we donned our dinner wear, and went for a pre-dinner walk along the sand. The day before, we had been here at high looking at the currents, and now to our surprise, at low tide, a pool had appeared, as well as the walking track out to the island. Pretty amazing place.
The swimming pool at low tide, and behind is the walking track to the island. At high tide this just looks like the sea.View of St Malo and the pool from Grand Be. Happy with our walk to Grand Be and getting ready for some dinner in town.This is Port du Petit Be, and you can see people began rushing to get off the island as the tide was coming in fast. This was a dry path 5 minutes ago.This couple only just made it off the island. They were the last people there and we all gave them a round of applause when they made it to Grand Be safely. But we also needed to be careful that we could get off Grand Be! The tide was heading in fast so off we all shot.
After our meal we headed back to Away, and did some prep for the next day. We had decided to brave the inland waterway of the River Rance. It took a lot of planning, as again, we needed to time the tides accurately to make sure we wouldn’t go aground. The extra complicating factor here was, we have to go through 3 separate locks (see last blog post for what a lock is) and we also have to contend with 2 different sets of tides, oh and 3 bridges that we calculated we *should* fit under.
To explain, we need to get out of the basin where we were docked, which was the 09:24 lock opening, which would give us enough tidal height to get to the next lock around the corner.
The next lock is called “The Barrage” which is attached to a tidal power station. The power station uses the force of the tides to run turbines. So they have dammed the river, and added a lock on the west side for boats. We were too late for the 10:00 lock, and so waited for the 11:00.
St Malo lock, to the Barrage lock
Because the power station tries to maximise the flow of water, they actually have changed the tidal range and times within the river. So the river tides are now different to the sea tides, and it is definitely possible for us to ground ourselves in the river. So we need to also align those times, with the leaving time from the inner basin at St Malo.
So going through the Barrage lock we need to ensure enough tide and time to get to the final lock (called Chatelier lock), after which we are then in the river proper, and there is no more tide. The piece of river between the Barrage, and the Chatelier lock gets very shallow and dries out. If we hit the bottom, we need to hope we got the tides right and it is a rising tide, if not, we would have to wait for a few hours for the tide to drop out, we’d sit on the ground, then we’d float again once the water rose. We weren’t 100% confident in the information we had, but we gave it a go. This is also the section where the 3 bridges are, and so the tide couldn’t be too high, or we’d hit the bridges with our mast.
The Barrage to Chatelier lock. This area got very shallow.
We did it but still not quite sure exactly how…. Here are some of the photos. The least depth we saw on this trip up the river was 1.4m. We draw 1.2m with the centreboard up so it was pretty close.
Adrian puts it nice and simply, if the tide it too high, we hit on the top, too low and we hit on the bottom.
This map is the Rance River and is not tidal here. It stays at a depth of 1.5m or above.Leaving the inner harbour lock, with 20 race boats.Stunning scenery.Its really scary going under bridges. But we had the data and were confident we would fit. We took it slow anyway because it looked so awful!So different to cruise in a river! We felt like we were canal boating again.People were looking at us and taking photos. We waved and felt a little bashful about all the attention. It was lovely though.
Dinan
Our final destination was Dinan, a beautiful medieval town on the river, with a thriving tourist industry. It honestly looks like the inspiration for Beauty and the Beast, it is just so stunning, so get ready for all the piccies. Once we were tied up, we went for a walk through the port area, and also had a nice meal. The old town is about a 10 minute walk up a hill, and so we were saving that for the following day and more energy.
Again I have to mention, the number of people stopping by and taking photos of Away and asking us about the boat and Australia was amazing. We were busy chatting a lot of the time! Someone asked me if I spoke English, and I misheard and replied “Je suis australienne” to which they responded in French that they did not speak Australian and laughed – oh well my French is getting better and better everyday.
View from the small bridge that blocks our path from going any further – clearance is only a few metres and our mast is 20m so Dinan is as far as we can go. Away is almost directly in the middle of this photo if you look closely. We are sticking out and take up half the river.A small river side restaurant and park.So many historic buildings here. This ones a little… leaning.Yes, that really is the marina office and the amenities!
After a good walk and decent sleep we tackled the hill up to the old town and were rewarded with the old town of Dinan being one of the cutest places I have ever seen. We walked up to the ramparts, and the tower overlooking the port and had a view out north towards the sea and St Malo.
Heading up the hill from the port. Cuteness overload!This is about half way up the hill to the old town. This is the gate through the old town walls.So cute. Top of the hill. We got some groceries and looked around.Gorgeous old buildings give the place such character.View from the top of the ramparts. Super beautiful. The port is on the left so Away is there somewhere. How’s the weather?!?
After our walk we also decided that the Garcia motto “nowhere you can’t go” seemed to have been fully tested here, given we couldn’t go further up the river – so we got in our dingy for a river trip. I honestly thought I was in a Renoir painting it is so beautiful. We even got to take our little dingy through the next river lock. The lockmaster was a lovely man who was only too happy to oblige emptying and refilling the lock for us.
In the lock, filling up fast as I hold on to the side.So so beautiful. Like a painting.There is a lot of these little buildings everywhere, and abbeys and farms. Just a stunning river.
At about 6PM we turned around, and headed back through the lock again, and home to Away. We had planned for a quiet day the following day as it was going to be a little dreary. We needed to plan our next steps again, because we have some commitments.
We need to get Away back to Cherbourg as Garcia have recommended they give the Away a once over and check everything now we’ve been out for a while. They also have a few items to complete for us.
To complicate this, our visas for Europe are also running out fast. We have until the 25th of September to get out of Europe. Oh, and we also have a dog…
We basically need to get to the UK. BUT, you cannot take a dog to the UK by private boat, which means we need to take him over on a ferry. BUT you can’t take a dog on a ferry unless its in a car, so we need to also hire a car. BUT you can’t take just any car, it has to be an Audi, VW or BMW if you go with one hire company, another hire company just says no and another said yes (thank goodness). BUT then we have to leave the dog in the UK somewhere in boarding.
Jersey would be easy as there is a quick ferry from St Malo (just up the river) BUT Jersey has no available boarding kennels.
Plus we need PCR tests, and Bernie needs extra medication before he can travel to be given by a vet.
Possibly this is the most complicated issue we have had to solve in our adventures thus far.
Planning day face.
We think we have solved it by planning to take Away to Cherbourg earlier than we planned, hiring a car from Cherbourg, driving the car to Caen, getting on a ferry to Portsmouth – and after that we have a little airbnb in the countryside so we can breathe for a second, plus add more time on our European visa in the process.
And we should have more luck with dog boarding in the UK.
So with all of that planned and most of it booked (it took an entire day) we were ready to enact said plan. First stop, back to St Malo, then on to Cherbourg!
We left, we left, we left, we left!!!! It was not a hard decision to leave the relative safety of the Cherbourg Marina, but it was one that seemed to take a lot of effort. It is quite hard to explain – its like the dock is magnetic and I guess because it is so safe and we were getting to know Cherbourg quite well, we were feeling comfortable, and we had to make that decision to again be uncomfortable, and to go into the unknown – but this has so many other benefits such as exploring, adventure and having new experiences. So one evening, we felt the winds and waves were okay for a sail away the following day. The following day came, and we thought the same thing about the next day, so we waited. Just till the next day 🙂
I navigated out of our berth, heart racing as I am still not comfortable with how big and heavy the boat is, and what the forces such as current and wind will do to the boat while it is stuck in a berth with only 1 or two lines attached, while Adrian is trying to detach them all in the most safe order. As it were, we were fine and we headed out from our berth at about 07:30 in the morning. Into the cloudy, cold, grey, summers day. We were headed to the Alderney race.
The Alderney race is a piece of water where the massive tides in this area run through. It can be extremely dangerous, and so understanding the tide and the wind is very important. It needs to be right. Battling against a 3 knot current, with the wind against it is uncomfortable, slow and can be very dangerous. We chose the time where the tide would push us through the race safely, and in relatively benign wind and tide conditions (around neap tides – the smallest tidal difference in the monthly calendar). Bernie likes to keep me company when we sail by sitting on me. At no other time does he do this. Perhaps he is satiating his nerves due to the race?
After dodging crab pots along the coast, we got to the race at about the right time. We still took a couple of hits from the current as it whirled around and grabbed the boat and spun it a little, but it definitely sounds worse than it felt. We were fine and have had worse. We headed south towards the Channel Islands.
We skipped through the Balliwick of Gurnsey, and past Jersey as we would need to check in to the area – and with Bernie, plus Covid, it is all just too complicated – best we stay in France for a while longer. Granville was our ultimate destination, and required some very careful planning again. Some of the spots we managed to sneak a peak at are absolutely gorgeous.
I would expect as a totally novice sailor, this area would not be the one chosen from the outset. The tides here are among the largest in the world. Granville was a tidal marina, and to keep the water in the marina, a wall (AKA a “sill”) has been built on the sea bed, so that at low tide, the water stays in the marina. We needed to time this perfectly in order to not hit the sill.
We called up Granville marina a few hours out from our arrival, and checked that they had space for a 45 ft heavy aluminium sailboat, and they did. They said they would even be there to help us dock – PHEW!!! When we motored in, we had enough water over the sill but the tide was running and there was a bit of current – so the extra help docking was welcome. We got into our berth okay, and to be honest, we went and found some wine as it had been a big trip to Granville and the tides and currents were massive, and sometimes it seems like the crab pots we are almost constantly dodging are actually attracted to our boat… It is tiring, and a tonic was in order!
With marina behind the sill, it means at low tide here, you can walk on sand, on the other side of the sill wall – I hope you can see the people walking outside the wall in these photos. When the tide is about 1/3 high, boats can go over the wall as there is enough water. So timing is everything.
On a side note, apparently we were the first Australian flagged boat they have had at the marina in their memory. We got a discount 🙂 We loved it here!
The tide here has just dipped below the wall. Eventually, everything at the bottom of this photo will be sand, with the marina and its floating boats behind. You can see Away on the right.Sand has now appeared on the other side of the wall. This is the view from Away.People walking at low tide at the entrance to the marina collected seafood.
Granville is gorgeous!! It was the seaside childhood home of Christian Dior and also a popular seaside resort town – and we could understand why! It was HOT! We had come from the relative cool and dreary weather of Cherbourg, to essentially summer! It was 28 degrees C and beautifully dry. There is a large fishing industry here, and we enjoyed walking the ramparts of the old town on the hill. We also got to walk at low tide along the expanse of beach that appears. People are collecting mussels, oysters and whelks for their dinner – or for their restaurant – we weren’t sure, but enjoyed all the shell fish. This picture is of Christian Dior’s childhood home.
La Plage du Plat Gousset at low tide. More of La Plage du Plat Gousset at low tide – it is huge at low tide, and then at high tide there is no beach at all!Some white wine and oysters in a beautiful bistro in a cobblestoned alley way in the old town. Filled with French locals – we were feeling pretty good.
After a few days, and of course the inevitable boat jobs, we were again finding ourselves in the evening pouring over charts, chart plotters, cruising guides and the “Reeds Almanac” (aka the bible) and planning our next steps. Here’s the thing – we were planning to leave on the biggest tide of the month – called “Spring” tide and the difference in height was going to be 11m. You can imagine 11m of seawater moving in and out of the area here over a 6 hour period is going to create some serious water movement. The tides here are the 3rd biggest in the world, and we were planning to go out when they were literally at their biggest. So it was with some angst, that I was looking at the tide charts and possible routes.
Leaving day came. The tide was high, the wind was from the south, and this meant that the relatively calm and safe marina that we were about to leave, was totally the opposite. The waves were coming in full force, the wind was gusting, the boats around us were bouncing around and lots of excited people were adding extra fenders and ropes to their cleats. And Adrian said to me “ok ready to untie the lines??”. To which I responded with the appropriate amount of… fear. But eventually, convinced that I was catastrophising and that we had options once we were out there, and that “out there” was better than bouncing around and hitting a dock, I untied the lines, and Adrian did a stellar job of driving out of the berth. Please note this serene photo of Away in its berth is not reflective of leaving day…
And yes, once we were out, things felt a lot better. The boat sails nicely, and we had a plan. Or so we thought. Some quick back of the hand calculations proved that I had overthought the planning, and my back of the hand calculations from the evening before were wrong by half – we were not going to make our intended destination with enough time not to hit the bottom on the way there – remember the tides are the biggest on this day, and timing was everything – and my maths let me down.
New plan – which was actually the old plan, the first plan we ever came up with, but then replaced with a dozen other plans, before settling on the current plan, which we are now replacing with the first plan – honestly, sailing is as much physical as it is mental – angsty!! Plan is now – lunch at a place called Iles Chausey (pictured) – a gorgeous outcrop of small islands, clear blue water and sunshine, followed by a leisurely sail south to St Malo, where we would time the possible 4 knot current against us perfectly to get into a massive lock to get into an inner harbour… Ok – to explain better….
Our new plan, which was the original plan…
Our boat sails nicely at 7 knots. We can go faster, we can go slower depending on conditions. 7 knots is nice. So imagine that we are going into a 4 knot current – we would only be going 3 knots which isn’t fast, or better yet that 4 knot current, is actually going side to side across us pushing us quickly sideways faster than we can go forwards – so yeah, I was concerned we wouldn’t make it so well. Already the day was pretty hectic, and here we were battling the massive currents. As it were, we saw a maximum of 2 knots going across us, and we crabbed our way in through the outside channels of St Malo. Its pretty weird watching a marker or a rock straight in front of you actually move sideways as you are technically sailing sideways due to the current. But we would make it to the big lock in time! Here is one of the obstacles we needed to dodge to get into St Malo.
As we waited a few minutes for the lock to open, I prepared our lines, and tried to work out what would happen – at time of writing, having successfully navigated the lock, I’m still not sure what actually happened. As you can see from this photo, I was pretty confident St Malo was going to be worth the angst.
A lock is essentially a small piece of water with doors on both ends – in this case sea on one side, and a safe basin on the inside. The lock keeper opens the doors at the basin side where the water is high, and lets boats in to the lock. The doors close, and the water in the lock is let out. Once the water in the lock meets the water on the sea side of the lock (where we were waiting), the outside doors open, boats go out, boats (we) go in, and then the outside doors close, and the lock fills up with water, until it reaches the same level as the inside water, then we can go into the basin. Which is what we did….
… with a giant tanker and like 7 other boats…
Did I mention this day was already pretty angsty???????? !!!!!!
Into the basin we went, and Adrian again did an absolutely perfect job with docking. We got into a spot that probably shouldn’t take a boat our size, and we didn’t break anything or hurt anyone so it is all good.
We were exhausted – and had a quick dinner and bed – and we found a bottle of wine, aptly named – Angst.
Bernie did so well, I always amazed at how chilled he is, and how a few quick cuddles with him can settle any nerves I have about tankers being so close, and shouting French lock keepers and tide and wind and all the etcs that go with sailing.
What an experience.
Bernie sitting with me on the port side.
Our few days in St Malo will be next up 🙂 Then planning for the next!
Leaving Bundy was very different to our arrival. Early morning and calm seas with just few fishing boats zipping about the shipping channel. As we turned south we barely saw another boat until Fraser Island was coming into view. There were a few rain clouds that we dodged by staying away from the coast.
As Fraser came into view the wind filled out and we sped along the Fraser coast. The northern half of Fraser had been burnt out by bushfire and we soon spotted the helicopters and planes water bombing the fire front. The planes entertained us by skimming the water and then flying low overhead to douse more flames. Our first choice anchorage looked a little exposed to the northerly wind and quite close to the advancing flames. As there was still light and wind we headed further into the sandy straights to anchor for the night.
Several other boats had anchored in a similar area which was located just before the shallow section (where we had run aground on the way north). Just before high tide we joined the procession of boats through the shallow section and on to Gary’s anchorage. More tide meant no bottom scrapes this time.
Gary’s anchorage had fewer boats this time but more sand flies. The next leg of our trip through the Wide Bay Bar and down the coast required careful planning to get a safe combination of tide, wind and swell. Leaving Gary’s before dawn meant we enjoyed a spectacular sunrise as we motored to a couple of hours to the start of the Wide Bay Bar.
The coast guard provides way points through the bar, but its still a nervous experience with breaking waves close by. The tide against us flattened the waves, but slowed our progress and it was over an hour before we made it to open water.
We sailed past Double Island Point remembering the our mis-adventures there on the way north. We were again surprised as the yachts following us didn’t overtake us and some even slowly disappeared behind us as Addicitive chewed up the miles towards Mooloolaba. Bernie caught up on some zzz after the early start. The narrow entrance bar to Mooloolaba harbour was being dredged but still had plenty of depth for us even at low tide.
The marina at Mooloolaba is across the road from the beach, next to the fish shops and a short walk into town. When we thought we might stay there over xmas we discovered everyone else had the same idea and they were booked out. Some yachts are booked in up to 12 months in advance.
A suitable day arrived and we reluctantly left Mooloolaba, negotiating the early morning paddlers, and sailed south passing the shipping lane and entering Moreton Bay. The wind picked up as we crossed the bay, but our progress was slowed by a large tanker inconsiderately passing the shipping channel right in front of us. As we motored into the marina, we realised that this might be our last sail of 2020 as we plan to spend some time over Christmas and New Years in Brisbane and surrounds.
Pancake creek, where I can only guess the name was aptly applied due to the sandbanks looking like pancakes, is a stunning part of the coast, and one I’m so happy we stopped in on now that we’re heading back south. As you may recall, we had a bit of a hairy time coming in to the anchorage after a big day, so all 3 of us were keen for some chill out time. So we spent a day enjoying the scenery and just doing some boat work. As low tide and sunset coincided, we enjoyed the vista over the massive sandbanks. Later in our stay here Bernie would enjoy running and skipping as he does on these banks and chasing the little bait fish.
However; the boat is a small space, and so we were keen to get off, and explore the area. We walked up to the Bustard Head lighthouse to enjoy the views of the coast, and were intrigued by the Bustard Head cemetery. On the way back, we couldn’t resist a trip down to the deserted surf beach to have a look – and quickly realised that the south end of the beach was a super protected bay with a little bit of swell, and all 3 of us could get in for a beautiful swim and cool off. It was like we were on our own deserted island – totally back to nature 🙂
Paddleboarding was another opportunity here that I didn’t want to miss. I spend so much time paddleboarding using my knees rather than standing because I have the Bernie on the front with me, so I decided Bernie would have to chill out on the boat and wait for me to hone my standing up skills. After a few minutes of wobbling, I got the balance point and was soon across the channel admiring the massive sting rays near the beach. I’ll try Bernie with me next time while I stand. He does move around a little which can put me off balance, so it should be interesting!
After 6 or so days of this idyllic pattern of swimming in the crystal clear waters, paddleboarding and exploring, we had hit on a day that would be excellent for a trip to Bundaberg. Apparently EVERYONE else in the anchorage agreed with us, and just after dawn, the first boats started their engines, and thus began the procession. We counted 14 boats, of which we were about number 5 coming out of the creek and setting sail south. One day we will be the first to leave!!
It would be a fair to roughish day. We had snacks at the ready, and prepared ourselves for what we knew would be a long and rolly passage. Fortunately, both Adrian and I don’t suffer from seasickness, but Bernie had a pre-emptive anti-nausea tablet that his vet prescribed precisely for days like this.
It was rolly coming out of the creek, which we navigated successfully using our in-bound track. Now at HIGH tide we had a much greater safety margin. We set up our sails, handed a coffee to the catamaran following us (about 10m off our stern if they were 1m), and ended up motor sailing for the best part of the morning. Blissfully, the wind filled in, and we could have the sails set wing on wing (our fastest sail plan) and were consistently clocking over 8 knots which is pretty fast for us.
As the day wore on, we noted the waves getting larger, and our ability to properly sail them becoming – hazardous. I suggested that we were perhaps overpowered, after a particularly nasty round up as we fell down a wave, and Adrian agreed. We decided to reef our sails, which maintained our speed, but stopped us from being just that little bit out of control. It felt more comfortable and we learned that we can do this without having to turn into the wind, which in this case was a blessing as the waves were pretty much getting uncomfortable to say the least.
Video’s and photos can never show how it really is, but this clip is us trying to show the rolly sea. The noise you hear is our autohelm working hard to keep us on track.
Not far out of Bundaberg, we noted that the wind and waves were increasing even more and even with reefed sails we were again overpowered – another reef was needed and so we did that, again our speed didn’t change too much, but the comfort and safety of our passage was much better.
Bundaberg was in our sights finally! Given the rolly sea state, we decided to keep our headsail out, drop the mainsail and motor into the Bundaberg channel (Burnett River). As we made the right hand turn to get into the river, the waves were on our beam and smashing over our bow, we were strapped in and getting very wet as each wave splashed over the boat, we were trying to steer a straight line to get through the heads – Adrian was shouting as I was steering “its only 50 more metres!” as we saw the waves crashing OVER the breakwall.
This is a little video when Adrian had a moment. I am steering from the companion way using our remote control for the autohelm. We later heard the breeze was gusting to 28 knots!
Through the breakwalls finally, the noise was still overwhelming, but we could see the marina – our destination and so we kept pushing.
Rounding the corner into the marina, we rang up and got some help to dock. The winds were pretty strong, so an extra hand on the dock is very helpful. Safely tied up, we did our usual high five on a successful passage, and watched as another yacht who came in after us limped in with a ripped headsail.
So after a passage like that, we like to chill for a while, and so planned to stay in Bundy for about a week before heading south again. Apparently Adrian pulled a muscle furling our headsail…
We intended to leave Rosslyn Bay on Wednesday, but a list of boat jobs and and an outstanding long sushi lunch with a Sav Blanc delayed our departure till Thursday. We motored over to Great Keppel throwing out the lure on the way, but all the mackerel were too busy splashing around in groups to take any interest. Most yachts were anchored on the west side of the Island after several days of easterly winds. We decided to chance the southern anchorage as winds were forecast to turn northerly. A successful choice as we secured prime real estate in calm conditions and watched all the other boats follow us over subsequent days. Here you can see this gorgeous anchorage with its sparkling clear water, white sand and our neighbours anchored up around us,
We had promised ourselves some relax time on Keppel before some of the bigger passages to the south. Bernie chased fish in the shallows for hours and covered us in sand as we tried to relax on the beach. A walk over to the resort side of the island helped us appreciate our quiet white sand anchorage as we were greeted by ‘tourist busy-ness’: jet skis, sunburned tourists and live music.
Amusingly as we walked back to our anchorage from the resort side, we saw a sign that said the eastern end of Long Beach was a nudist beach. We never knew, nor ever saw, nor gave uncladding a go. We just enjoyed the few days of swimming and walking and soaking up the sun and seawater.
On the way north we had missed “The Narrows”, a shallow section of water between Curtis Island and the coast, by staying offshore amongst the coral islands of Lady Musgrave and Fitzroy Reef (you can check that out here – https://fiandadriansailing.com/losing-sight-of-land/). The Narrows are 2.1m above the water level at low tide where a cattle press, aptly named “The Cattle Crossing” (pictured here with the starboard marker), goes between the island and mainland for farmers to safely get their cattle to the different grazing areas. But with tides of up to 5m high, yachts can traverse The Narrows, although poor timing can be embarrassing. Our calculations suggested leaving Keppel at 4:30am would give us ample time to arrive at the shallow area an hour before high tide. At this time of year its light at 4:30am with a distinct absence of daylight saving in Queensland.
After tea and coffee at 4am I was about to announce we were the first boat to leave the anchorage when I spotted the all too familiar navigation lights slipping silently out of the anchorage ahead of us. One day we will be first to leave…
It was a straight line to the start of Curtis Island and The Narrows with only a few shoals to avoid. All the other yachts leaving the anchorage behind us headed out to sea and down the coastal route – did they know something we didn’t? By the time we entered The Narrows the tide was helping us along and we clocked our speed at over 9 knots which is a record for us!
The shallowest part of The Narrows looks like a wide open river, but there is only a very narrow path that is deep enough for Addictive. Using the electronic charts, guidebooks and plenty of buttock clenching we kept to the deepest line and were soon passed the lowest point which was 1m below the keel. As the river deepened again we hoisted a sail and meandered to our chosen anchorage, an empty creek mouth with an abandoned hut and just enough depth at low tide.
Our cruising guide spoke of mango trees around the abandoned hut. Approaching at low tide it was quickly apparent that 50m of shoe sucking mud was not passable. A second attempt via a rocky beach was successful. To our dismay the mangos were small and not nearly ripe, but the water tanks around the hut allowed us to fill our shower bags and wash our hair.
We might have stayed longer but there was only one day of northerly winds to get to Pancake Creek where we would sit out the forecasted southerly blow. The high tide was at 10 am the next day which was a much more civilised start time than the previous day. There was time to recover the (empty) crab traps, put away the dinghy and re-fill the showers before heading downstream to Gladstone. As we passed through the big scary port full of big scary ships and big scary sounding radio calls, the tide and wind whisked us along towards open ocean. It would be here again we would beat our speed record set the previous day, clocking 9.6 knots!
The radio announced an incoming monster, confirmed by a team of tugs lining the shipping channel ahead of us. We were sailing just outside the channel to avoid any overly scary situations. As luck would have it, we would meet this behemoth ship at a pinch point, where shallow water on our port side forced us close towards the shipping channel on our starboard. Fearing a far too close encounter that we were never destined to win, we tacked and retraced our track until the channel was clear again. Hoisting more sail we scuttled out of the shipping channels as fast as we could as the next arrival appeared over the horizon.
Once clear of the shipping channels we had a beam reach in bouncy conditions along the coast. The boat loves these conditions more than we do, speeding along at 7 knots. It takes a little time to replace all the dislodged items downstairs and re-assure Bernie after these trips. The guide books describe Pancake Creek as a deep all weather entrance, however we were rightly concerned about arriving just after low tide. We saw 30 cm under the keel at one point. We weren’t surprised to see the larger yacht following us come to a grinding halt, back off the sandbank it had hit and then anchor at the creek entrance rather than try to follow us in.
We will be here for a few days now until winds turn north again for the long jump to Bundaberg.
