El Ferrol is a major naval and commercial port, though there is little to entertain the yachtsman on land. That said the ria has a spectacular entrance, lined by forts either side. We anchored up but didn’t go ashore, which is why I didn’t send a postcard from El Ferrol. Instead we watched the red moon replace the golden sun and change the landscape from a heady mix of green vegetation and mountains into a twinkling Rupert Bear bay.
Intelligent Dolphins Read Post »
Boy do the Spanish love to party! In the main plaza of La Coruna, Plaza de Maria Pita, a huge stage had been erected to host a number of Galician bands who played into the night: I think they eventually turned the music off at 1am, which is completely unheard of in the UK considering this was in the town centre.
I’ve already mentioned the mysterious fog and its novelty factor when we first had to navigate our way through it, but one watch I undertook from 12 – 4am was no laughing matter. With the engine running due to lack of wind the sea was still but the fog extremely thick. So thick I could only just see the end of the boat, so with everyone else asleep I had no one looking out for me. I had nothing to look at except the phosphorescence illuminating the wake of the boat
Crossing Bay Of Biscay – What’s In Store? Read Post »
“We want to refuel, why can’t you move the boat, get it out the way” and so on, now with some added comments regarding the English thrown in Now they’re starting to p!ss me off. “Look, it’s what the English call queuing”, I pipe up. “We had to wait, now you can wait. We’ll only be a few minutes, so what’s the rush?” After all, this is sailing, not the F1 pit-stop. Now they’re cursing obscenities at me, whilst some English sailors on the pontoon join in. “Aha”, I smile, “some support from some fellow English chaps”. Turns out they’re starting to have a go at me as well.
Damn Rude French Sailors Read Post »
Leaving L’Aber Wrach we’re totally surrounded by fog. Not just patches of fog, as the shipping forecast had warned us, but fog banks. This reduces visibility down to around 50 metres, making our first leg of the journey very taxing. As I said previously L’Aber Wrach is notorious for its rocky banks and hard-to-negotiate channels, so with limited visibility we really were relying on the Skipper’s expertise.
The Galley Bitch Gets The Chop Read Post »
Now I’m not sure whether it was Conny’s belly flop or the fact he was complete naked but the dolphins pegged it immediately. To attract a dolphin’s attention one is supposed to swim underwater in circles making whooping noises. I told Conny to do this about 5 times but he insisted on splashing around like a flid shouting “this water is fteezing”. No, Conny, that really isn’t gonna work mate.
Dolphins & Sunsets In L’Aber Wrac’h Read Post »
Did another night watch, which was very tranquil. The only thing to look out for are other ships, spotted only by their port and starboard lights. Very strange as one crosses your path – quite eerie. Talk about ships passing in the night.
Clowns, Punch & Judy, Mad Skippers etc Read Post »
Whilst spending a pleasant afternoon walking round St Peter Port minding my own business I stumble across Sam and 5 other volunteers with the local town crier outside the town hall.
Each is taking it in turns to don a three pointed hat, ring a hand bell and shout at the top of their voices “Oh yey, oh yey…..”
Guernsey’s New Town Crier Read Post »
Remember that whilst we’d like to believe boating should be for everyone it’s still a rich-man’s sport, so when a bunch of reprobates turn up in a home-made cement boat and moor up next to some bling bling million dollar yacht we’re not exactly greeted with open arms. At first this bothered me. It bothered me that we didn’t look the part and it bothered me that we didn’t have leather hand-stitched upholstery and a fridge that prevents the smell of ripe Camembert to fill the entire boat as soon as one opens the fridge door.
Sark – The Toytown Channel Island Read Post »
After tempers had dropped we all apologised to each other, including poor Lorraine who I think felt partly responsible for the incident, though it wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, it was just a learning process but we very quickly learned that Sam’s temper can be short under stressful situations. Personally I kind of expected this and don’t have a problem with it, but I’m worried about Conny and Lorraine. Conny actually asked Sam to be more patient with us, and to Sam’s credit he apologised and said that he understood we wouldn’t learn anything with him shouting at us. Let’s hope it was a one-off incident.
The Swinge – Sailing Lessons Abound! Read Post »
Alderney is a Channel Island where it rains a lot. However the beer is good so we hit a couple of cosy snubs in St Annes and supped local ale. Back on the boat I cooked beans on toast, making it four days in a row that I’ve been chef.
Alderney And Baked Beans Read Post »
5.30am: Woke up to Danny Boy this morning. NO!!!! Not the ******* shipping forecast again! Also Cherbourg smells of rotten fish and I’ve developed a cold. Went into town and acted French. Ate mussels, bought Camembert and French sticks. A
Provisioning (Basically Wine & Cheese) Read Post »
Woke up to Rule Britania at 5.30am this morning. Very loud. What the **** is going on? Is this Sam’s idea of a bloody joke? It was only after Rule Britannia had finished that I realised he was tuning into the shipping forecast on Radio 4. Obviously essential to our safe passage but please don’t let this happen every day – I can’t handle it! Just to make things more difficult I have decided to give up smoking.
Whilst the food went down well I think there was still a lot of first day nerves, at least for me. Had I made the right decision to leave the comfortable surroundings of home? What’s Sam really like when it’s blowing a force 7 in 20ft waves? Would I get on with Conny and Lorraine? Is sailing for me?
Setting Sail in the Solent Read Post »
A qualified Royal Yachting Association (RYA) offshore yachtmaster, Sam has already crossed the Atlantic a number of times. His piece-de-resistance, however, must have been sailing the original Ramprasad (a traditional open Indian fishing boat made from teak) from India to Australia single handed. Check an Atlas to put into context just how mad this bloke is.
