The Last Race

The interesting thing about yachting is that two yachts on the water constitutes a race.

We passed over the bar at Salcombe on our last day with Bob en route to Dartmouth to find a choppy sea and a force 4/5 for the first time on this trip. The wind direction was pretty much where we were wanting to head (another truth of yachting); a north/north easterly. Amongst the general exodus from Salcombe were two yachts which appeared to be heading in the same direction as us but perhaps a half mile ahead. Not wishing to miss an opportunity we hardened up the sails and set off off in pursuit.

Non Bob is a very good helmsman and comes into his own in these conditions. He has sailed in waters from the Azores to Greenland and is only happy if being dowsed with sea water. This was right up his street; and he did us proud.

We sailed as close to the wind was we could heading east south east. We wanted to the do this with one tack that would take us around Bolt Head on a course for Dartmouth. We began catching the other two yachts. One tacked; much too early. They would have to tack again to get around the head. We tacked half an hour later just on the tail of the other yacht. This was the perfect course for Dartmouth just avoiding the sand bank in Start Bay. We were within two boat lengths of the other yacht. It appeared on AIS for the first time. A 49 footer. We had done well.

A slight detour had to be made to go around a trawler, and we lost a little time. By the time we passed the buoy at the entrance to Dartmouth we were three boat lengths behind. What an exciting morning's sailing and well done to Bob.

We were home.

Scilly to Fal

Up at 0530 and off the mooring at 0545. We were on our way back from the Scilly Isles and towards Falmouth. Quite a long way, hence the early start, some 70 or 80 miles. The winds were going to be north easterly becoming easterly and fading. This is exactly as it was. We started with some great sailing hard on the wind around the north side of the Scillies. Across the Land’s End north south traffic separation scheme. No problems. We sailing close by Wolf Rock lighthouse (we think the one on the BBC where they land the helicopter on the top).

Wolf Rock Lighhouse

It turned out to be a long hot day. The wind died and we spent a lot of time motoring.

Provident - Brixham Trawler

The most interesting part was the trip up the River Fal. We know a great spot some four miles up river where there is a visitor’s pontoon.  Last year we had sailed up river; which was great fun. This year there was just no wind.

This has to be the most tranquil mooring ever. The only sounds are fish jumping and birds calling. There are curlews, heron, swans, pheasant but sadly no owls.

Dinner was Annie's chilli and rice. Excellent.

Bob was particularly pleased to be adjacent to a Bristol Pilot Cutter. The same type of boat he sailed on with Bill Tillman in the 70's. This was called Marguerite. Bob shows us all the ropes and pulleys. Looked very complex, but he assured us they were simpler than Liquid Asset.

Marguerite - Bristol Pilot Cutter

Final Day in the Scilly Isles

Today was our final day in the beautiful Scilly Isles. We had figured what it was all about, had enjoyed the wonderful landscape and seascape, its gardens, and of course, its strange people! Today we would sail and explore other bays; perhaps anchorages for another time.

Sailing in the Scilly Isles is a very tricky affair with a lot of very careful attention to navigation. There are a lot of rocks, but fortunately very little in the way of tidal streams.

We went to pick up a mooring buoy, snagged the boat hook as we fell away from buoy. It sank – typical! So instead we anchored in clear blue water with a white sandy bed some 4 metres below us. Lunch was taken. Some sun bathing and some reading. This was pure holiday-making and very different from other years. As the tide fell, we pulled up the anchor and motored slowly back to our mooring.

Dinner had been booked at the Ruin Beach Cafe. Not really a cafe, more of a very nice waterfront bistro. But what a waterfront. We took the dinghy ashore (well up the beach), and walked across the very small island of Tresco along paths between fields of cows or crops. David informed us of the differences in preferred timings for giving berth whether you are a dairy or beef cow. You learn something new every day.

So which are these?

Dinner was great. Pan fried mackerel for a starter and, yes, a pizza for main course. I just fancied it. David had venison and Bob a crab linguini. all was good. We overdid it with the puds!

Met a gentlemen who let us into the secrets of the island. All the cottages a long term time shares. He had been coming for somewhere near twenty five years. The Island Hotel, which I had been told was the place to go on Tresco, was where we were sitting; in the Ruin Beach Cafe.

Back to the boat. Some rather nice Talisker on the deck (thank you Tom) and off to bed. We wanted to be up early in the morning to sail back to the mainland.

Mucking About in Boats

When you are away sailing you notice things about the boat that pass you by when on land. Coming back in the dinghy and circling Liquid Asset to take just a few more photographs, we noticed a vent on the port side high up above the sink and shower waste outlets. I had no idea what it was for. To boot, there was something looking like coffee on the hull around the outlet. An investigation by the crew began, with an explosive conclusion…!

We traced various pipes in the heads to try and figure what it was. A bit of pumping of the loo resulted in more “coffee” being jettisoned from the mystery aperture. Panels were removed in a bid to figure what was happening. We found an 80 litre capacity holding tank for the loo. The piping suggested that the outlet from the loo went into the top of the holding tank. The mystery hole was an air intake. The sea cock under the sink was the outlet from the bottom of the holding tank. Holding a torch to the plastic tank revealed sinister contents; it was full to the brim with, shall we say, some evil looking sludge or slurry! The penny dropped. A penny spent was just filling up the tank and overflowing through the air vent. The outlet must be blocked.

We deployed David. Back into the dinghy he went flexible hose in hand. He meant business but what did he have in mind? He found the tank outlet under the water and gave it a very aggressive rodding to try and dislodge the offending blockage. No luck, nothing budged. Another idea. Put a bung in the air outlet and pump the loo hard.

Have you seen the film Krakatoa, East of Java? Well this was more spectacular. The 80 litre tank emptied its contents under some pressure into the crystal clear water. After the initial surprise and awe we felt a mixture of relief and shame. We reconciled our polluting the beautiful Scilly Isles water with the fact it was all natural, 

maybe not environmentally friendly.

Job done!

Sorry, no pictures!

Sark to Tresco

Where to next? Brittany? We have been thinking about going to the Scilly Isles every year we have been in the West Country. Being 27 miles beyond Lands’ End and with very little shelter there in bad weather, it has always been a step too far. The wind directions were looking good for Brittany with a nice steady north easterly, but were dying later in the week making a return journey difficult. The Scillys were looking a distinct possibility with a steady wind on the starboard quarter. Consultation with the crew there was a unanimous vote to achieve our ambitions and go to the Scilly Isles.

The Scillys are about 160 miles from Sark, so at 6 kts this would take over 24 hours. Being close to the summer solstice with very few hours of darkness then this should be straightforward. It was a passage literally down the middle of the English Channel.

David Passage Planning

The passage was one of the best long ones we have had. The weather, once we rounded the south of Guernsey was lovely and the wind held. We used the engine primarily to charge the batteries. Our watch system was two hours on, two hours on standby and two hour off. The hours of darkness were initially very dramatic with no light pollution and lots of stars. Then the moon came up behind us. All made for a fast and spectacular nights sailing.

We arrived in the Scilly Isles at midday the following day, and made for St Marys where we understood there to be plenty of mooring buoys. Initial impressions were not good. Hugh Town was a scruffy looking place and the mooring buoys were altogether too close together, very few to be had and definitely too many French. We tied up to one, tidied up the boat and the crew. Bob and David went ashore in the dinghy to do a reccie. I stayed aboard, had a shower and snooze. Was awoken by messages coming in from the crew to pick me up and go for a beer in the town. The scruffy exterior of Hugh Town was matched by the scruffy interior. Had a beer, did some shopping and then back to the boat for dinner and a good night’s sleep.

We decided that this was not the Scilly Isles we were expecting, so the plan was to go for a long sail in the Atlantic on the far side of the island, and go and find an anchorage or mooring in Trescoe. We had been told that Trescoe was the “jewel in the crown”, and there was a desire from the horticulturalists amongst us to visit the Abbey gardens, which are renowned.

We navigated our way carefully south west past St Agnes with a very good wind and reefed sails. Rounding the rocks to the south of the islands, we set a course towards Greenland and sailed the Atlantic Ocean. Another yacht appeared some way ahead on a similar course (most likely heading from Ireland), and the race was on. The reefs were taken out and we were off. Of course, we overhauled them. Turns out they were perhaps 32ft, so not really any competition, but it was fun.

Put a tack in a headed back in towards land and in particular Trescoe. David navigated us in, meticulously as usual. We found a vacant mooring buoy and tied up. This was very different from St Marys and Hugh Town. Between Bryher and Tresco, just near Hangman Island and Cromwell’s Castle a sheltered bay called Frenchman’s Point.

This was the start of three day affair with the Scilly Isles. This is what we expected and what we had sailed so far to see. The shore party was mustered to survey the shoreline and what looked like a small village half a mile further along the shore. We pulled the dinghy well up the beach and tied her to a ring in the sea wall. As we entered the village it all appeared to be very well appointed and manicured even. Two people cutting a very small lawn which didn’t need cutting. People walking around in casual summer outfits, certainly not locals. We found the village stores. Expectations were low (the coop in St Hugh’s was what we had in mind). Not here. Very up- market. Nice wines, delicatessen, a nice range of products and produce.

Of course we were in a private village where all the properties were rented out. This is the land of the Duke or Cornwall. Leased a long time ago to a well to do family who had built up an obviously successful business in renting nice properties to wealthy holidaymakers from the mainland.

It was all very nice, albeit with slight overtones of the Prisoner series with Patrick McGoohan back in the 60’s. Just generally a bit unreal. Were these visitors? Could they leave? Who was Number One.

We asked after a hotel that had been recommended to us. It was no longer here, converted to cottages. Try the New Inn. Well we did, and it was very nice too. Not the kind of prices we had found in Sark, certainly twice as much, but nevertheless a very nice garden in which to have a beer in the sunshine. We had fallen on our feet.

Back to the boat (no traumas with the dinghy), and very pleasant evening. I think it was the Shepherd’s Pie that Annie had cooked for us. Meant for 6, but we managed to polish it off (well David and Bob mainly).

A pretty good night. The usual mucking about on deck at 2 in the morning to stop squeaking of mooring lines and boom, but otherwise uneventful.

No breakfast for the crew the following day. They were still too full from the night before! Today we visited the Abbey Gardens on Trescoe. This was well worth the £12 per head. Amazing that all these tropical plants were flourishing in what must normally be a very windswept place. David quizzed the head gardener for some time getting all sorts of advice about planting in harsh conditions (David has zillions of acres near Carlisle). Bob and I retired to the café and the obligatory shop.

We walked the 25 minutes back to the New Inn; some stunning views towards St Mary’s en route. Refreshed adequately we headed to the Ruin Café on the other side of the island. This was also a lovely spot. Looking North this time. Somewhat more exposed in these north easterly winds. We booked dinner for the following night.

Sark

Of course, we have been to Sark before. We know all about the 10 metre tidal range. Did we learn?

We woke to a wonderfully sunny morning. Breakfast on deck (smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and bagels) and some planning for the day ahead. From the very intermittent internet access we could tell that the north easterlies that had helped our passage across would stay with us at least for the next two days. So whilst we had originally planned to tour the north coat of Brittany, there was a very good opportunity to sail from Sark directly to Scilly Isles; somewhere we had not been, and which had tacitly been accepted as our target for the trip. So the plan was to enjoy Sark for the day, and head off thee following day (when the tide would be favourable) towards the Scilly Isles.

Sark, of course, is a wonderful place and well worth a visit; for day at least. We deployed the dinghy and David of course volunteered to row us ashore. At high tide the cove looks live this, so we lifted the tender high up out of the water at the top of the steps and headed off. A very steep climb (was it 250 steps) up the cliff.

Ingenuity Cove

There is not too much to see on Sark; the usual dusty narrow roads, some delightful properties with manicured gardens, the horse and carts dragging foreign tourists around and of course tractors used instead of cars. Its mostly visitors you see. Even those you think are the locals turn out to be Eastern European. So where is the real Sark?

We had found locals before in the Mermaid Tavern so we thought we would introduce Bob to their "hospitality". We were "greeted" by a rather surly barmaid, clearly not from these parts. The monosyllabic responses were a vast improvement on the "cold shoulders" and grunts we had experienced a few years before. The good thing was that beer was very cheap.

We went to take a look at the bay we would normally stay in on the north east side of the island. We didn't go there of course because of the winds. It was empty and looked decidedly inhospitable.

Back to the other pub on the island; the Belle Air. Very nice welcome, clean and tidy place, and beer at a price that suggested the Mermaid did not want tourist custom.

Bob and David headed off to La Coupee (the very narrow "causeway" between Sark and Little Sark). With no head for heights I decide to wait for them on the cliff above the boat. Surveying the cove below, it was clear that the tide had dropped significantly (as we had expected), and the top of the ladder (see picture) was now 15 feet above the water level. This was was going to be interesting getting the boat back in the water and the crew back in the boat.

Much to the annoyance of the three Frenchmen who were not prepared to tackle the issue, we solved it in a matter of minutes. It was a little precarious lowering the boat down to the water, and even more precarious climbing down a very slippery ladder an into the boat. But the effect on the French who were photographing our every move and, no doubt, hoping for a slip up was well worth while. As we rowed off triumphantly we calculated the French would still be there as we were sipping G&Ts some hours later.

Dinner was Annie's chicken parmesan. She had prepared this for two meals. Need I say more.

Arrival in Sark

After an uneventful crossing we rounded the top of Herm (giving the rocks there a very wide berth), and headed south into the Big Russel and towards Brechou (the island owned by the Barclay brothers off Sark).

Arrival in the Channel Islands is all about the tides. Get it right and you will ride the very high tidal flows to your destination. Get it wrong and you might not end up where you expect to. As newly qualified Yachtmasters, of course, we got it wrong! At one point we ha 6 kts of tide against so our boat speed was a healthy 8.4kt, but sadly our speed over the ground was a paltry 2 kts.

But arrived we did in a bay call Havre Gosselin tucked away from the north easterly winds and where mooring buoys were available. We had arrived after a very good passage from Dartmouth in just under 12 hours. Gin and tonic, pasty and beans and off to bed. A very good start to the trip.

Preparation

I arrived at Dartmouth at lunchtime. Blue sky, very hot. The normal view of Dartmouth was substantially obscured by a cruise ship - a small one by most standards, but it filled the Dart.

Bob and David are arriving by train. They should arrive on the same one into Paignton at 1708 and I will pick them up. I am sure they will be delighted after long journeys to head directly to Sainsbury. I had thought about doing this a bit earlier, but if you have a crew that doesn't know what we have or where it is, then you acquire this job for the next two weeks!

With light east or north easterlies for tomorrow, then the plan is to head south west towards the Channel Islands.

Picked up the crew from Paignton, did the shopping, stowed on the boat and had tie for a beer on deck before heading off to Hendricks for dinner. Nice dinner. Quite a buzz in the place. Passage planning over a glass of wine. All agreed we are heading for the Channel Islands.

Sunday

Up early, quick breakfast and we are ready to cast off at 0800. Filled up the tanks on the fuel barge, and we were heading out of the river at 0830.

Some lovely winds. 12 to 15kts on the port beam and Liquid Asset under full sail charges along at 8 to 9 kts. At this rate we will be in the Channel Islands at 1730. But of course, it never stays like that when sailing. At 1400 the wind dies, and we motor the remaining 30 miles towards Guernsey and Sark.