We had various ideas for what to do in the winter. Firstly we were planning very seriously to be in Scotland on Away, enjoying some highland winter walking and the occasional sail around, but that has been postponed until next year for a number of reasons (visas, timing etc).
A frosty and slippery Away – winter is here.
Once we realised that our dreams of finding Bernie the perfect snow covered Scottish peak were on hold for this winter, we decided that perhaps the best thing we could do would be to go and find snow in England via the beautiful British canal system – so we have hired a 60ft narrowboat for 2 months, and we have put Away to bed in Eastbourne.
Away all packed up for a few weeks.
We started in Fenny Compton, northwest of London, southeast of Birmingham, on a chilly afternoon on the 1st of December. Sufficiently introduced to “The Earl” (our new floating home) by late afternoon, we put our things away, prepared to leave and naturally went to the pub. A friend told us that canal boating is just travelling from pub to pub – so we figured, when in Rome, and began our new adventure with a pint.
We are in this general area in England.Our temporary home – 60ft, 7ft wide.
Our first day, we awoke to the most beautiful dusting of snow. It seems a good omen that our little trip will hopefully be fruitful in our quest to get Bernie neck deep in some powder.
The lines were frozen solid when we went to take them off to get going, but we had plenty of coal for the fire
We had previously been on the canals and so we had a fair idea of what to expect. Walking pace travelling, interspersed with lock loading/unloading exercise, and chasing the dog back on the boat (this was new…).
We meandered north over the coming days, stopping next to fields with cows for company in the evenings. Sitting next to the fire at night listening to the rain, working on some crochet, cosy and warm with an exhausted spaniel at my feet and a glass of French Bordeaux in my hand, is my current idea of heaven.
Yes its cold, and its so beautiful.Coal fireAbsolutely INSISTED that he needed to come up…Clearly has no concept of his size.I thought this was hilarious, which naturally has encouraged this behaviour.I don’t care.
We took the opportunity to catch up with some ex workmates at – you guessed it – a pub on the Saturday (namely the Admiral Nelson at Braunston). They were lovely enough to share some wonderful photos – please give @red72mini a follow on Instagram if you are keen to see some amazing car pictures.
Go check out @red72mini on insta!Adrian being ever the strong serious type, and me being a dufuss. A happy one though!I snapped this pic as we turned right into Braunston. Absolutely gorgeous.
Bernie is taking to canal life like a duck to water. He’s desperately wanting to understand swans, but they just hiss in his face and confuse him more, and he’s loving running around in the mud – not so much the inevitable wash off afterwards.
Trying to talk sense to a spaniel…
And I am finally fulfilling my desire to put cute jackets on him, as standing still in the cold and damp while we motor along is very cold and he is getting cold. The top temperatures don’t go over 5 degrees C, and are mostly around 1-3 degrees C. Combine that with some drizzle, and we’re all very grateful for the heating on the boat!
These are his pyjamas…This is his waterproof and warm jumpsuit raincoat.This is his dry-za-bone.And this is his “puffy jacket”.
As its winter, the canals have many closures for maintenance, and we have only 1 route north open to the Peak district where we hope to find some really great walking. We have already woken to ice on the canal and a cold snap will make progress difficult. Will we get iced in or will Bernie reach the snow covered peaks before Christmas?
A beautiful winters morningI took the opportunity for a good dog walk in the sun while Adrian drove the boat. Pretty convenient.
Pubs Bernie visited in our first week:
The Wharf Inn – Fenny Compton (dogs met: 2 chihuahua cross malteze wrapped in blankets)
The Admiral Nelson – Braunston (dogs met: another chihuahua wrapped in a blanket)
The Rose Inn – Willoughby (dogs met: Maltese, also wrapped in a blanket)
The Raven – Brinklow (dogs met: none)
The Anchor Inn – Hartshill (dogs met: 2 full size poodles and Bentley – the fluffiest puppy there ever was – Bernie was told he was so calm and relaxed – very proud)
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 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!
Hmmm, depth is 1m, boat is 1.2m
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.
St Malo
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.
The pilot transferring to the pilot vessel as the ferry leaves St Malo
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.
Nothing around the marina…except spaniel heaven
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.
Big red sail
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.
Sun setting our our Normandy adventure as we approach Cherbourg
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!
It was time to leave the dock on our first adventure. Sitting at the dock waiting for work on the boat to be completed was not satisfying, plus there is the age old adage of letting go of the dock vacuum, so we set a date and made a plan to head 35 miles around the coast to St Vaast La Hougue. The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, or engine throttle push as the case may be.
On a grey and overcast day we cast off the lines and Fi accurately negotiated our marina exit which has barely more room than the length of the boat. We set sail as the showers loomed and we pondered if the radar was going to be helpful. Thankfully the showers stayed onshore, the winds freshened and we zipped along the coast helped by over 3 knots of current at times. The sun even decided to grace us with its presence. Speed over ground was 10.5 knots.
Sailing Away began to feel familiar, in a way – Addictive had really prepared us for this moment. No longer was Away this massive heavy scary beast, rather it became much like my (Fi) first car, simple and reliable, easy to drive and responsive. A familiar friend who we could trust.
By late afternoon we approached St Vaast harbour and managed to negotiate a small berth without crushing too many boats… phew. We did learn that tying up docking lines is very hard when the boat is in slow forward. Oops. Thankfully there are loads of wonderfully friendly locals who are more than happy to lend a hand.
St Vaast turned out to be that picture perfect French seaside town. Fishing boats tied to the wharf, fresh fish sold on the dock and a suitable number of shops selling blue and white stripped knitware, and yellow raincoats. There was even a music festival on, and what’s not to like about a Dutch bicycle band serenading the port each afternoon. Of course in order to hear a whole song, you also need to be on a bicycle…
Our bikes and a Bernie trailer allowed us to cycle a few miles up the coast to a beach side lunch spot, and a suitable Bernie beach. A yacht dried out on the sand next to the restaurant… maybe us someday soon!
We found an old fort on a dog walk around the coast and even walked out to an island that is only accessible at low tide. The tides transform from oyster beds at low tide to sail training areas at high tide.
We enjoyed our stay so much we extended a few days, but eventually it was time to leave and so we quickly headed out to deeper water away from the crab pots. Away ate up the miles delivering us back to familiar Cherbourg late afternoon.
For other new owners picking up boats in Cherbourg we would recommend a trip to St Vaast. There are some challenges as the the race off Barfleur needs 5-7 miles clearance or cross it at slack tide as we did. We saw the race from land during wind against tide conditions with breaking waves miles out from the lighthouse.
St Vaast harbour is only open for a few hours around high tide (times on their web site). We tried booking a berth online and got no response. A quick phone call confirmed that there was space and to select our own berth on arrival.
Its a great way to stretch your sail legs as sailing to St Vaast means you are going around a corner. For us it meant that we tested almost every point of sail. We clocked 9.2 knots boat speed close hauled going into St Vaast in flat water. It was awesome fun. We did reef both the Genoa and the main at one point as the apparent wind increased around the corner towards St Vaast.
Tidal flows around the Barfleur race were over 3 knots and this pushes the crab pot markers under the surface so keep a good lookout. All quite manageable with some prep and St Vaast is worth the effort.
Its also perfect as a first trip because timings from Cherbourg usually mean that you hit the race at a good time, and then you will also be in St Vaast at the right time for the gate to be open. The reverse is true going back to Cherbourg.
Make sure you visit Maison Gosselin for some great wine and in house roasted coffee beans, and eat some oysters. The market on Saturday is great. Eat all the food is our main recommendation. Walk out to both forts as the views are spectacular and walking through the oyster beds is a real experience.
So yes, St Vaast as a first experience cruising on our new boat was perfect.
Leaving Lake Argyle we were quickly across the border into the Northern Territory. After a convenient overnight free camp by the road we were on our way through Katherine to Nitmiluk National Park – specifically Edith Falls on the north side of the park. We had stopped here on the way south but it was closed due to excess water, excess crocs, or excess something.
We spent the night at the camp site at the falls, and were pretty excited to do the walk to a waterhole called “Sweetwater Pools” the following day. The walk was only a couple of hours so we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, before heading off to enjoy the hottest hours of the day. Fresh buffalo (or massive cow) poop on the track indicated possible excitement although we didn’t find one to play with. After reaching Sweetwater Pools, we had a beautiful swim, and decided that we would swim in every other waterhole we had passed on the way up. We managed 3 freshwater dips in crystal clear water on the walk back from Sweetwater Pools, managing to stay wet for the entire trip back despite the best efforts of the midday sun.
With the number of days available to us dwindling, we had some unfinished business to attend to – Kakadu.
We had run away from Kakadu during the first week of our trip due to excess swarming masses of bugs, excess mosquitos the size of pterodactyls, and excess things being closed. The bugs and mosquitos hadn’t changed apparently, but most of the park was open now.
Our first stop in Kakadu was Maguk campsite conveniently located near another water fall. This sign is amusingly placed just before the path crosses the creek and heads up to the swimming hole.
We assumed yummier people had already passed this way so we would not become lunch today. The waterhole was reasonably easily accessed and we had a beautiful reintroduction to Kakadu in the warmest freshwater pool we had been in the whole trip. We could see the bottom many metres below us, and watched the fish check us out.
We had a few days planned here, and the lure of collecting and cooking bush tucker with a local guide was enough for us to sign up for the “Animal Tracks” tour located deeper within the park. Its been going for 20 years and still uses the same windowless troop carrier and dishevelled tour guide… We knew we were onto a winner. We picked up Patsy who had lived here all her life, and with her guidance we made baskets, dug for tubers, avoided buffalo, ate green ants (they taste lemon-y and are used as medicine), and turned leaves into string.
As the sun set over the wetlands, we cooked our dinner on the hot coals in a paperbark and eucalyptus oven. On the menu was fresh tubers we had foraged, wild buffalo, wild pig, and wild freshwater barramundi. Patsy warmed up to all of us and was delightful to spend time with. We watched the sun set, and the pterodactyls rise, and skedaddled off back to our camp, swerving to miss the 2m long olive pythons that like to warm up on the road at night soaking up the last warmth of the sun from the tarmac.
Our final night in this wild park was spent on a river cruise at Yellow water near our campsite. The pterodactyls don’t come out until after the sun has set (unlike in other places where they come out at dusk, or just stay all day) and so we felt safe to be out and about at this time. The cruise took us through the wetlands, and is primarily used to educate tourists on the fragility of the environment, and the uniqueness and importance of this park. It was wonderful to see the wetlands from this vantage point, and we were fortunate to see a lot of crocodiles! These are esturine (or salt water) crocodiles and are definitely a danger to humans, so we stayed safely within the boat.
A couple of days later, while relaxing by the pool at our hotel in Darwin, we were reminded of this magic sunset cruise. A tall, daringly tanned, rotund gentleman explained to his friends, rather too loudly, that Kakadu was not the place to see wildlife. We recalled the sunset cruise, and the moment we were surrounded by half a dozen salt water crocodiles a few metres away snapping at passing fish, jabirus (AKA black necked storks) sorting out squabbling geese whilst other wading birds watched on, sea eagles returning to their nest as wild pigs and buffalo crossed the wetlands. Hmm, no wildlife.
After 13000 km our outback trip was fading into another fiery Kakadu sunset. The rumble of the swag carrying V8 Land Cruisers had been diluted by the hum of soft roaders. The 4WD outback buses full of adventure seeking back packers had been replaced by luxury coaches spewing clean, perfumed, white shirts and sun hats on day trips from Darwin. Attentive tour guides rushed wheelchairs to those overcome by the few hundred metres stroll to todays instagramable shot.
We had for a moment become the red dirt gypsies seeking the road less travelled, shunning mass tourism and the trappings of a city life. Our dusty feet may eventually wash clean but it will take longer than we expect to slip back into our latte sipping inner city life and prepare for new adventures… Which are now not far Away.
The time had come to exit Purnululu National Park, and continue our trip north. For the coming days, we would be exploring the gorges of El Questro as well as more of the Ord River Catchment area of Kununurra and Lake Argyle.
Pictured is out last sunset over the western side of the Purnululu National Park.
Heading in to El Questro, we were thrilled to drive through a bunch of water. Nothing so deep that said “you will need to have a snorkel on your car” but still enough for us to get a little bow wave going around the car, and wash the undercarriage (pictured is us going through this last wet section into the main accommodation areas).
Arriving in El Questro felt a little bit like getting on to a cruise ship for the first time. Check in Desk – “There is the bar, here are the tours, here is where you eat, and this is where you sleep – and these are the rules”.
The walks here are supposed to be epic, and we had passed a few spots on the way in. Checking with one of the staff, Adrian discovered that most likely the “El Questro Gorge walk” (instructions and map pictured) would be the most interesting and challenging walk for us to do, with some swimming and beautiful scenery thrown in.
El Questro planned, we headed off toward the gorge where we were warned “you will need a snorkel to get into the gorge carpark”. And yes, we did… Pictured is the view from my passenger side window of the water half way up the door.
El Questro gorge was worth every water crossing, crowded campsite and corrugated road. The walk was technical, beautiful and we were able to have the most luxurious swim at the top of the gorge in the crystal clear blue water of the water hole, fed by a cascading waterfall.
After the Gorge walk, we decided to also stop in and do another couple of hours walking at Emma Gorge. This was yet another spectacular gorge, with some beautiful swimming at the end. Possibly one of the most beautiful swimming holes we have been in (pictured).
Sufficiently gorged, we headed north towards a small remote camp site near Wyndham. Parry’s Creek is a conservation area, and supposed to be one of the most prolific bird spotting places in the area (we did see a lot of birds and would recommend to budding ornithologists).
We also took a quick detour to Wyndham so I could show Adrian the 5 rivers lookout (pictured) which is one of the most spectacular views in the area. You can see the rivers branching off the estuary here. In this instance, photos definitely speak louder than any words I could possibly write to describe the amazing views. I had been here 2 decades before, and remember it being a lot more brown, but in front of me the lush flood plains spread out to the horizon.
After a great nights sleep, we left the sweet spot of Parry’s camp, and drove to Kununurra. Kununurra is a place I had seen before, and I was excited to show Adrian Ivanhoe’s crossing, the Stone Art Gallery, the Hoochery (although, now that we aren’t drinking, we opted for the Sandalwood Factory instead) and Lake Kununurra (pictured).
We did some much needed resupplying and enjoyed a gluten free treat at the coffee shop. Kununurra is positively cosmopolitan compared to when I had spent time there previously. Pictured is Ivanhoe Crossing, a road connecting the outer parts of Wyndham and the outer parts of Kununurra. It is under water year round, and closed when the waters are really running during and just after the wet season. Estuarine crocodiles (salt water crocodiles) are known to frequent this area.
Kununurra was hosting the “Ord Valley Muster” and was therefore full of whip cracking, V8 driving, permanently tipsy people with very broad Australian accents. Being introverted, flat white sipping, inner west greenie types, we felt we might be taking up space for someone who would better enjoy the hive of activity. So, we stayed one night, then briefly marvelled at the prices of a small piece of sparkly pink rock (see Argyle Pink Diamonds in google if interested), and headed to Lake Argyle where we had booked a couple of evenings. Pictured is a fleeting moment of us being the only car at one of Kununurra’s attractions.
It was at this point we checked the date, and realised that the tourist season (AKA the dry season) was now in full swing, and that our days of quiet camping in secluded spots admiring the views were definitely over. Lake Argyle is a beautiful spot, and we took some time out to relax a little. We were planning some walks over the coming week across the border at Katherine Gorge and back to Kakadu. We felt that conserving some of our energy would serve us well to ensure we got the most out of our last week of touring. Plus we both got COVID jabs… More on that later.
After our fun at Windjana and Tunnel Creek, we were keen to do some more walking and Purnululu promised some highly rated tracks. We traversed the 53km of dirt road to our campsite within the park in the late afternoon with the rock faces turning red under the setting sun.
Echidna Gorge was a perfect option for our first day in the park, as it had been recommended as a ‘must do’ and more importantly needed to be started later in the morning to get the best light. The vertical sides of the gorge only a few meters apart made a truely etherial place where one could wonder at the forces and time that made such place. It was easy to understand the signs asking for respect as if it was a cathedral. The inevitable child calling ‘coo-EEE’ was stunned into silence when Fi warned him he might wake the sleeping baby micro bats just ahead – perhaps the only respite the parents got that day.
Later, we entertained ourselves at the ‘Fawlty Towers’ visitor centre. When they returned from lunch they explained how the internet, which had not yet reached the centre, was the only way to book the nearby campsite. There was a guest wifi which was private and a pay phone that no longer made calls so they recommended the 4 hour return trip to the highway to get reception to make a booking.
The next day we were treated to more spectacular gorge walks at the northern end of the park. It was becoming clear that the walks were a small taste of the the park and we were being carefully guided around much of the more interesting and presumably sensitive terrain. The only way to see most of the park would be from the air.
I had overheard a tour guide talk about dawn at the southern and eastern side of the park where the famous bee hive rock formations are. We made the risky choice to drive, pre-coffee, to the southern end of the park where we enjoyed the early morning light whilst making breakfast.
After a good breakfast, we walked along the river bed a few km to Whip Snake Gorge which was largely deserted and tranquil. A large number of cane toads rotted alongside the path, Appian Way style, although we didn’t discover how they met their demise. On our return trip from Whip Snake Gorge, we met the tour groups thronging into the popular Cathedral Gorge, which was accessed via a small detour at the end of our much larger walk . It was indeed reminiscent of any European cathedral, full of a hundred well dressed quietly spoken camera snapping visitors. Not really our thing, we exited quietly and returned to the car park. Interestingly, we found out, Cathedral Gorge was used in the famous Qantas advertisement where they put the kids dressed in cleanly pressed white robes into famous landmarks to sing “Still call Australia home”. Apt.
Next stop was the airfield for our aerial adventure. Fi had experienced the helicopter flight some 20 years earlier, and that was enough of an excuse for me to get the front seat. As we had suspected, the vast majority of the park is off limits to the public. There looks to be some fantastic walking for the more adventurous with great access into the gorges along dry creek beds. However; I suspect if I was responsible for a land full of ancient paintings, tranquil gorges and sacred burial sites I would keep the coo-eee’s, the generators and the 4WDs to their own little corner.
Our longest stopover came to an end and we headed north for civilisation, vaccines, provisioning and a dose of nostalgia.
