25 August
To Brighton
No dramas.
Martin went home by train, and we popped back to Essex to cut the grass and feed Putin (who was fine).
Travel on land using legs, trains, buses and the occasional taxi is remarkably easy.
28 August
To the Solent.
Leaving Brighton (by boat) does involve .. well .. leaving the marina by the marina entrance.
The entrance can get shallow, especially after storms and does, we understand, require regular dredging. As we wanted to leave at low water springs, I checked with the man in the marina office that it would be deep enough for us.
Whilst examining the results of a recent survey, he suggested that "it should be OK, especially if you go a little wide here, and more in the middle here, and perhaps go out on a rising tide, but it might be better to give it another 2 hours".
So much for seeking reassurance.
As I was now in extreme safety mode (we no longer had Martin aboard and I really didn't want to have to call Solent Coastguard again that week), we opted to leave an hour early, albeit on a falling tide.
It was fine.
There was no wind. We motored swiftly to the Solent, refuelled in Yarmouth, and then, having firmly agreed that we couldn't possibly get beyond Studland Bay that night, eventually arrived in Portland Harbour before dark. 78 miles, no problem.
30 August 2018
Portland to Dartmouth.
No problems .. and we were home!
Saturday 8 September 2018
Friday 7 September 2018
Being Rescued and all that
23 August 2018
To Eastbourne
The Hottest British Summer In Living Memory was coming to an end.
In fact, despite the predictions in a well-known scientific and medical journal (The Daily Express), the British Summer was already over.
This, of course, meant that we had to check the weather before venturing out onto the High Seas.
There appeared to be something of a "Weather Window" that morning, in that the Northerly wind would not turn Westerly till after noon. As we wanted to get from Dover to Eastbourne that day, a Northerly wind would mean we could sail (i.e. use the Big White Flappy Things) whereas a Westerly wind would mean that we would have to use the engine. (Tacking against he wind is not a concept or practice that we normally embrace because it is rather slow and tends to be hard work).
Anyway, we had a weather window, if we could leave Dover early enough, even if the tidal might not be quite ideal.
The gate from Granville Dock (Dover) opened for us at 0700 and we exited the harbour without causing any special inconvenience or damage to a very large and recently docked cruise liner or to Dover Port Control generally.
I had just finished complimenting myself on our increasingly fluent use of the VHF and how easy the day had been so far when the plotter went out. The plotter then bleeped several times, told me it didn't know where it was, "position fix lost", rebooted several times, bleeped once more and then died. There was no smoke, but the plotter was definitely dead.
Never mind. We had Martin and Martin had an Ipad.
The "weather window" was, of course, a fiction. The Northerly was a Westerly and the F3 soon became an F5, occasionally F6. We would have to motor to Eastbourne (or sail back to Dover and wait for a new "weather window"). I turned up the engine and bashed our way Westwards.
It got a little rough. Never mind, we had Martin, a new engine and plenty of fuel.
I took a couple of Stugeron "just in case"
At one stage we pitched so much coming off a wave that the propellor came our of the water with a roar and a splash.
We plodded on.
About six miles out from Eastbourne I rememeber thinking "so we are going to make it alright after all".
At this precise moment the engine stopped.
"Obviously something round the prop" I said, trying to sound calm, authoriative, wise and generally in control (all at the same time).
I started the engine, engaged reverse and sighed with relief as it ran sweetly.
Off we chugged. Ten seconds later it stopped again.
"Obviously dirt in the fuel filter" I announced. "All that bouncing around must have stirred up some sludge in the bottom of the tank". "I'll change the primary filter".
Having completely lost my temper with the aft cabin's mattress (which was determined to stop me from accessing the fuel filter), I did eventually manage to change the bl**dy thing.
Jean and I inspected the old "blocked" filter and some fuel that I'd drained into an ice cream tub.
Pristine.
The engine wouldn't run and the fuel and its filter were fine.
"We will have to sail". I spoke these words knowing that on a sailing boat such as ours, this was very much the last resort.
Whilst we sailed, I convened a conference. We made a plan. Tack the boat under sail against the wind and tide towards Eastbourne Marina, when nearly there, ask for a workboat to help us into the lock, and "Bob's your uncle".
I called Eastbourne Marina on the VHF. No reply.
I phoned Eastbourne Harbour. I think I got through briefly to someone in a pub, who managed to bang the phone down just before we were cut off.
I fiddled with the VHF.
Reader(s) will not remember anything much about the VHF ATIS settings required for Dutch Inland Waterways, however, I am able to recall that although I failed to program this properly, I did do enough for the ATIS setting to have disabled High Power transmissions on various channels on the VHF (which is something that it's supposed to do and might perhaps be a good thing when navigating canals in Holland).
Why does stuff always go wrong at the worst time?
Have you ever tried re-programme a VHF, from the instruction book, on a rocking boat, with steamed up spectacles, while shining a flickering torch at an impossibly small screen on the front of a VHF set?
Eventually, I had it working on full power Channel 74.
I called Eastbourne Marina.
Would they be able to assist our entry by providing a workboat?
How long would we take to get there?
A couple of hours.
Sorry, we'll have gone home by then.
I called Solent Coastguard on Channel 16 and explained the situation.
I explained that I wasn't confident of sailing into Eastbourne without help, Brighton Marina has an infamously difficult entrance, and Dover was an awful long way away.
Solent Coastguard were clear, calm, utterly professional and generally wonderful and quickly recruited another yacht to help us. Soon a very shiny new-looking Beneteau 38 (or so) was motoring along behind us as we slowly approached Eastbourne Harbour.
This, I thought, was all very fine and dandy but how were we going to make use of this fine yacht and her kind and helpful skipper? Would our harbour entry end in a pile of damaged gel coat and twisted steel?
"Albatross, Solent Coastguard, over .."
"Albatross, Solent Coastguard. Eastbourne Lifeboat are training this afternoon and would be pleased to assist you"
"Solent Coastguard, Albatross. YES PLEASE!"
Twenty minutes later Three Million Pounds worth of RNLI's Tamar Class all-weather Lifeboat, "Diamond Jubilee" roared out to meet us. With great agility they put a member of crew aboard, a rope was attached and we were taken in tow towards the harbour. Having sorted out the towing bridle, the crewman bled our engine's the injector pipes and we entered Eastbourne Harbour Lock under our own "steam".
We lived happily ever after.
God Bless The RNLI.
To Eastbourne
The Hottest British Summer In Living Memory was coming to an end.
In fact, despite the predictions in a well-known scientific and medical journal (The Daily Express), the British Summer was already over.
This, of course, meant that we had to check the weather before venturing out onto the High Seas.
There appeared to be something of a "Weather Window" that morning, in that the Northerly wind would not turn Westerly till after noon. As we wanted to get from Dover to Eastbourne that day, a Northerly wind would mean we could sail (i.e. use the Big White Flappy Things) whereas a Westerly wind would mean that we would have to use the engine. (Tacking against he wind is not a concept or practice that we normally embrace because it is rather slow and tends to be hard work).
Anyway, we had a weather window, if we could leave Dover early enough, even if the tidal might not be quite ideal.
The gate from Granville Dock (Dover) opened for us at 0700 and we exited the harbour without causing any special inconvenience or damage to a very large and recently docked cruise liner or to Dover Port Control generally.
I had just finished complimenting myself on our increasingly fluent use of the VHF and how easy the day had been so far when the plotter went out. The plotter then bleeped several times, told me it didn't know where it was, "position fix lost", rebooted several times, bleeped once more and then died. There was no smoke, but the plotter was definitely dead.
Never mind. We had Martin and Martin had an Ipad.
The "weather window" was, of course, a fiction. The Northerly was a Westerly and the F3 soon became an F5, occasionally F6. We would have to motor to Eastbourne (or sail back to Dover and wait for a new "weather window"). I turned up the engine and bashed our way Westwards.
It got a little rough. Never mind, we had Martin, a new engine and plenty of fuel.
I took a couple of Stugeron "just in case"
At one stage we pitched so much coming off a wave that the propellor came our of the water with a roar and a splash.
We plodded on.
About six miles out from Eastbourne I rememeber thinking "so we are going to make it alright after all".
At this precise moment the engine stopped.
"Obviously something round the prop" I said, trying to sound calm, authoriative, wise and generally in control (all at the same time).
I started the engine, engaged reverse and sighed with relief as it ran sweetly.
Off we chugged. Ten seconds later it stopped again.
"Obviously dirt in the fuel filter" I announced. "All that bouncing around must have stirred up some sludge in the bottom of the tank". "I'll change the primary filter".
Having completely lost my temper with the aft cabin's mattress (which was determined to stop me from accessing the fuel filter), I did eventually manage to change the bl**dy thing.
Jean and I inspected the old "blocked" filter and some fuel that I'd drained into an ice cream tub.
Pristine.
The engine wouldn't run and the fuel and its filter were fine.
"We will have to sail". I spoke these words knowing that on a sailing boat such as ours, this was very much the last resort.
Whilst we sailed, I convened a conference. We made a plan. Tack the boat under sail against the wind and tide towards Eastbourne Marina, when nearly there, ask for a workboat to help us into the lock, and "Bob's your uncle".
I called Eastbourne Marina on the VHF. No reply.
I phoned Eastbourne Harbour. I think I got through briefly to someone in a pub, who managed to bang the phone down just before we were cut off.
I fiddled with the VHF.
Reader(s) will not remember anything much about the VHF ATIS settings required for Dutch Inland Waterways, however, I am able to recall that although I failed to program this properly, I did do enough for the ATIS setting to have disabled High Power transmissions on various channels on the VHF (which is something that it's supposed to do and might perhaps be a good thing when navigating canals in Holland).
Why does stuff always go wrong at the worst time?
Have you ever tried re-programme a VHF, from the instruction book, on a rocking boat, with steamed up spectacles, while shining a flickering torch at an impossibly small screen on the front of a VHF set?
Eventually, I had it working on full power Channel 74.
I called Eastbourne Marina.
Would they be able to assist our entry by providing a workboat?
How long would we take to get there?
A couple of hours.
Sorry, we'll have gone home by then.
I called Solent Coastguard on Channel 16 and explained the situation.
I explained that I wasn't confident of sailing into Eastbourne without help, Brighton Marina has an infamously difficult entrance, and Dover was an awful long way away.
Solent Coastguard were clear, calm, utterly professional and generally wonderful and quickly recruited another yacht to help us. Soon a very shiny new-looking Beneteau 38 (or so) was motoring along behind us as we slowly approached Eastbourne Harbour.
This, I thought, was all very fine and dandy but how were we going to make use of this fine yacht and her kind and helpful skipper? Would our harbour entry end in a pile of damaged gel coat and twisted steel?
"Albatross, Solent Coastguard, over .."
"Albatross, Solent Coastguard. Eastbourne Lifeboat are training this afternoon and would be pleased to assist you"
"Solent Coastguard, Albatross. YES PLEASE!"
Twenty minutes later Three Million Pounds worth of RNLI's Tamar Class all-weather Lifeboat, "Diamond Jubilee" roared out to meet us. With great agility they put a member of crew aboard, a rope was attached and we were taken in tow towards the harbour. Having sorted out the towing bridle, the crewman bled our engine's the injector pipes and we entered Eastbourne Harbour Lock under our own "steam".
Our track as recorded on Martin's Ipad
We lived happily ever after.
God Bless The RNLI.
RNLI's Tamar Class all-weather Lifeboat, "Diamond Jubilee"
Thursday 6 September 2018
After Wemeldinge
Regular reader(s) will remember that The Good Ship Albatross was, in my last riveting report, sailing in Dutch Inland Waters near a small town called Wemeldinge.
18 August 2018
Despite the absence of any sailors with Inland Waterways Endorsements to their International Certificates of Incompetence our gallant trio managed to navigate through the ship canal from Wemeldinge to Hansweert that is, the Kanaal door Zuid-Beveland, without undue difficulty.
The lock at Hansweert has a customs office (for ships heading to Belgium, we think) but the customs showed no interest in us, despite the absence of a Schengen form (completed in triplicate). As usual everything was pleasant, dutch and easy.
After the lock at Hansweert we entered the Westerschelde again. You will remember of course that the Westerschelde is the big estuary that runs roughly from Antwerp in Belgium .. (where British Sailors Sometimes Fear To Tread) to Breskens (where we have already been)
.
Easy therefore, exit canal, turn right, follow wide estuary to Breskens. WRONG!
Marine and Coastal Navigation is normally undertaken with the aid of charts.
We tend to use electronic charts on Albatross (we also have paper ones but these are mainly used as cabin decoration and stored "just in case"). Anyway, we duly set off down the Westerschelde, dodging the marine traffic and mud banks.
After about half an hour Martin appeared from his bunk "Peter, I think we should go a little left".
I knew where I was, so I nodded and continued on my cunning course from one channel to another.
"Peter, it might be better to go slightly left".
I looked at my plotter, we should be fine, I thought.
"Peter, let's go a little left".
I looked at the depth ... 1.5 metres under the keel ,, getting shallower, but the plotter said we should be fine. Martin knows about sailing.
Martin has an iPad with proper up-to-date charts on it.
I turned left.
Martin's plotter showed that we missed hitting the mud by only a few metres (and on a falling tide).
My charts showed we would have been fine.
The charts on my networked electronic high tech Raymarine Multifunction Display are only 14 years old.
We survived. I will buy some new charts next year. For now we had Martin and Martin had his iPad.
Soon we arrived back in Breskens. We had to use lots of long ropes to get into our berth.
Lessons for the day:
1. 14 year old cartography is not ideal (especially when navigating the shifting mud of a major European estuary).
2. All visitors berths in the Netherlands are too small.
3. Martin tends to be right.
We like Breskens,
19 August 2018
We set off south towards the new marina at Cadzand-Bad.
For some reason, I couldn't find it on my plotter but Jean and Martin found it on their iPads.
Cadzand- Bad is in The Netherlands (just) but is run by The Royal Yacht Club of Belgian.
It is an excellent modern marina with only one catch.
To use the loos you need an electronic card at £8.50 each.
"But you can use it at any Royal Yacht Club of Belgian marina" explained the dutch receptionist. "Even Jachthaven Wolphaatsdijk".
Anyway we had to buy the card and I had what was probably the most expensive pee of my life.
We still have the card. So Dear Reader(s), if you want to use the loo at Jachthaven Cadzand-Bad or Jachthaven Wolphaatsdijk, just let me know and I'll send you the card.
This brings me to a final thought about the Dutch. Do any Dutch people have dyslexia? If so, how many live in Wolphaatsdijk? And how do they cope?
20 August
To Dunkerque (missing out Belgium on the way, for obvious reasons). We motored all the way. I used Martin's ipad for navigation.
21 August
Across the Dover Straits Traffic Separation Scheme to .... Dover.
We motored about half the way until, as we were about to be overtaken by a smaller yacht that appeared to be using the wind as its sole means of propulsion, we realised that we could also try using "the big white flappy things". So we did. It was good. We sped to Dover, powered only by the wind.
22 August
Day off in Dover.
Key points:
1. We had fish and chips with our wine
2. We were back in Blighty
3. Jean and I visited The Castle and had ice creams.
4. We didn't go sailing.
Next time .. being rescued and all that.
18 August 2018
Despite the absence of any sailors with Inland Waterways Endorsements to their International Certificates of Incompetence our gallant trio managed to navigate through the ship canal from Wemeldinge to Hansweert that is, the Kanaal door Zuid-Beveland, without undue difficulty.
The lock at Hansweert has a customs office (for ships heading to Belgium, we think) but the customs showed no interest in us, despite the absence of a Schengen form (completed in triplicate). As usual everything was pleasant, dutch and easy.
After the lock at Hansweert we entered the Westerschelde again. You will remember of course that the Westerschelde is the big estuary that runs roughly from Antwerp in Belgium .. (where British Sailors Sometimes Fear To Tread) to Breskens (where we have already been)
.
Easy therefore, exit canal, turn right, follow wide estuary to Breskens. WRONG!
Marine and Coastal Navigation is normally undertaken with the aid of charts.
We tend to use electronic charts on Albatross (we also have paper ones but these are mainly used as cabin decoration and stored "just in case"). Anyway, we duly set off down the Westerschelde, dodging the marine traffic and mud banks.
After about half an hour Martin appeared from his bunk "Peter, I think we should go a little left".
I knew where I was, so I nodded and continued on my cunning course from one channel to another.
"Peter, it might be better to go slightly left".
I looked at my plotter, we should be fine, I thought.
"Peter, let's go a little left".
I looked at the depth ... 1.5 metres under the keel ,, getting shallower, but the plotter said we should be fine. Martin knows about sailing.
Martin has an iPad with proper up-to-date charts on it.
I turned left.
Martin's plotter showed that we missed hitting the mud by only a few metres (and on a falling tide).
My charts showed we would have been fine.
The charts on my networked electronic high tech Raymarine Multifunction Display are only 14 years old.
We survived. I will buy some new charts next year. For now we had Martin and Martin had his iPad.
Soon we arrived back in Breskens. We had to use lots of long ropes to get into our berth.
Lessons for the day:
1. 14 year old cartography is not ideal (especially when navigating the shifting mud of a major European estuary).
2. All visitors berths in the Netherlands are too small.
3. Martin tends to be right.
We like Breskens,
19 August 2018
We set off south towards the new marina at Cadzand-Bad.
For some reason, I couldn't find it on my plotter but Jean and Martin found it on their iPads.
Cadzand- Bad is in The Netherlands (just) but is run by The Royal Yacht Club of Belgian.
It is an excellent modern marina with only one catch.
To use the loos you need an electronic card at £8.50 each.
"But you can use it at any Royal Yacht Club of Belgian marina" explained the dutch receptionist. "Even Jachthaven Wolphaatsdijk".
Anyway we had to buy the card and I had what was probably the most expensive pee of my life.
We still have the card. So Dear Reader(s), if you want to use the loo at Jachthaven Cadzand-Bad or Jachthaven Wolphaatsdijk, just let me know and I'll send you the card.
This brings me to a final thought about the Dutch. Do any Dutch people have dyslexia? If so, how many live in Wolphaatsdijk? And how do they cope?
20 August
To Dunkerque (missing out Belgium on the way, for obvious reasons). We motored all the way. I used Martin's ipad for navigation.
21 August
Across the Dover Straits Traffic Separation Scheme to .... Dover.
We motored about half the way until, as we were about to be overtaken by a smaller yacht that appeared to be using the wind as its sole means of propulsion, we realised that we could also try using "the big white flappy things". So we did. It was good. We sped to Dover, powered only by the wind.
The Port of Dover
22 August
Day off in Dover.
Key points:
1. We had fish and chips with our wine
2. We were back in Blighty
3. Jean and I visited The Castle and had ice creams.
4. We didn't go sailing.
Next time .. being rescued and all that.
Monday 3 September 2018
Towards Holland
We like Dover, its safe harbour, pleasant and efficient marina and of course, its britishness. But it was time to go to France again.
7 August 2018
To Dunkerque
.
To leave Dover we had to:
1. Call Dover Marina on VHF 80 and ask them to open the gate and the road bridge to let out out
2. Call Port Control on VHF 74 to ask them if we might enter "The Wick Channel" (which has nasty blind corner and traffic lights (because big tugs and other boaty stuff may be coming in the opposite direction)
3. Call VHF 74 a second time and ask permission to leave "by the Eastern Entrance" (this time)
4. Avoid bumping into things and looking silly.
All this involves using the VHF, which means that everything you say will be heard by the hundreds of local (and competent) seafarers who are also listening in on VHF 74.
Words like "Port Control" "Albatross" "roger" "standby" "over" "say again" and "out" have to be said calmly and with authority but without sounding like a remake of Airport II. Non-seafaring folk may not be aware that the use of Whirlybirdisms like "Over and Out" is worse than ... well, a very bad thing out of a very very bad factory.
We motored all the way to Dunkerque. The Dover Straights Traffic Separation System was fine and the journey was easy. Dunkerque has two marinas, the "friendly" recommended one and the other one. The former is always full but the later is very friendly and entirely acceptable.
The weather wasn't ideal for sailing for several days to I spent my time planning the next leg of our adventure.
I discovered the following:
1. Belgium is next door to France and lies between France and the Netherlands
2. English sailors generally avoid Belgium (for obvious reasons .. see below)
3. Holland (our target destination) is part of The Netherlands
4. Everyone in The Netherlands speaks fluent English except for a laundrette assistant somewhere a long way north.
5. To navigate the Dutch inland waters we would need:
a. An International Certificate of Competence with an inland waterway endorsement
b. A printed copy of the Dutch Inland Waterways Regulations (in Dutch) aboard at all times
c. Our VHF radio programmed for A.T.I.S. (whatever that might be)
d. A cool head and a strong heart
e. Our boat's VAT certificate
f. A basic idea of how to "berth the boat in a box mooring"
The cruising guide which we had purchased advised us that the Dutch would enforce their regulations strictly and that the end of the world was nigh.
So looking at 5. a. to f. (above), I worked out that we failed all all counts (although on item d., I thought my heart, at least, was probably OK).
Although our cruising guide may or may not have been written by an obsessional depressive with a hangover, it was not bringing me happiness or reassurance. The local Dutch (and Belgian) yotties however explained (in English) that none of the above mattered at all ... except perhaps that I really should have got my inland waterway endorsement.
Anyway, to The Netherlands without stopping in Belgium.
We arrived in Breskens (in the Netherlands).
Our guide stressed the importance of completing a "Schengen" form in triplicate. We didn't.
All the local boaters reassured us that all the above was bo!!ocks and that we should try not to worry.
12 August 2018
To Middelburg
Getting to Middelburg, our first proper inland "up a canal" place involved
1. Crossing the Westerschelde (without impeding the ferries)
2. Entering the Sea lock at Vlissingen (aka as "Flushing" to us Brits)
3. Waiting for various bridges to open
4. Finding a berth in The Historic City of Middelburg
5. Getting the boat into a "Box Mooring".
Everything went fine apart from item 5.
The Box Mooring consisted of 2 posts (which I later measured to be) precisely 4 metres apart. Albatross is 3.6 metres wide and when festooned with fenders is approximately 4 metres wide.
I went for it backwards, obliquely and at speed. We hit one of the posts and bumped on into the berth. Various nice Dutch people all of whom were nice (obviously) and spoke English fluently (obviously) came to our aid and helped us tie up. One man kindly suggested that we should have taken our fenders off before attempting this delicate manoeuvre.
We liked Middelburg, its canals and watery boat parking arrangements, the harbour mistress, the architecture and everything about the place. We met and interesting man from Essex in a 50 foot power boat who had just driven over from Essex (obviously) in bad weather. His wife and his dog had both vomited much of the way. The dog was a "German Shepherd" or some such thing. Almost as frightening as our Putin (but probably in better mental health). Our faithful Putin was of course still still at home and hopefully guarding it resolutely.
Having proved that could cope with "Dutch Inland Waterways" we visited the local "Jumbo" supermarket. This was much worse. I managed to get my trolley (without fenders) jammed between a pillar and the oriental pasta. Everyone was nice and spoke English.
14 August
To Verre and Osterwatering.
It was tricky getting out of our Box Mooring as 3 giant motor cruisers had rafted together opposite our cosy berth leaving a gap of about 12 metres within which we would need to turn. But we made it. The other boaters were very nice (and spoke English). We had an easy trip down the canal but on arrival in Verre the marina looked full (really full, fuller than.. well you know) so we went instead to Oosterwatering. On arrival, this marina also looked full but the very nice Berthing Mistress advised us to raft onto the "Blue Motorboat on the Hammerhead". There were 2 Blue Motorboats, one on each hammerhead. One contained an unhelpful Englishman but the other was empty and Dutch and altogether a better place to berth. So we did.
Martin joined us in Oosterwatering. Martin knows about sailing, doesn't feel the cold and never gets seasick. Remarkably, Martin doesn't speak Dutch very well, but this didn't matter.
We decided to explore some of The Inland Waters of The Netherlands and therefore set off for Colijnplaat. Colijnplaat is interesting, no only for the gratuitous over use of the letter "j" in its spelling (not to mention the double "a" later in the word, but also because it is very nice, friendly, Dutch and because we had to sail under a motorway bridge (with a gate under it it) to get there.
Next to Sint Annaland Marina in Zeeland.
A nice marina in a slightly boring town with a nice beach. We had a swim. Martin took us out to traditional dutch meal. We had chips with dutch sauce.
17 August
We sailed to Wemeldinge.
Wemeldinge has a marina, half of which is only accessible via a narrow channel with a lifting footbridge over it. The berth we were allocated would be, I decided, impossible to berth in without divine intervention. Even with Martin on board, we had no chance of making the sharp and complex turns required to get into the berth without wrecking several (nice) dutch boats in the process.
Under Martin's guidance we therefore decided to "rope the boat in".
Martin knows about boating (and even his Dutch was improving) and so he explained how we should berth somewhere easy and then pull the boat (with a very long rope) into the berth to which we had been assigned. Probably the best thing about the next couple of hours (from an international relations perspective) was the entertainment that we provided for so many very nice Dutch onlookers.
Martin's rope throwing did improve with practice. It is good to know that no one is perfect.
Wemeldinge is situated next to the entrance to the next canal that we would have to tackle, so we went for a very pleasant walk to explore the neighbourhood and to suss out the canal generally.
Next time .. somewhere else...
7 August 2018
To Dunkerque
.
To leave Dover we had to:
1. Call Dover Marina on VHF 80 and ask them to open the gate and the road bridge to let out out
2. Call Port Control on VHF 74 to ask them if we might enter "The Wick Channel" (which has nasty blind corner and traffic lights (because big tugs and other boaty stuff may be coming in the opposite direction)
3. Call VHF 74 a second time and ask permission to leave "by the Eastern Entrance" (this time)
4. Avoid bumping into things and looking silly.
All this involves using the VHF, which means that everything you say will be heard by the hundreds of local (and competent) seafarers who are also listening in on VHF 74.
Words like "Port Control" "Albatross" "roger" "standby" "over" "say again" and "out" have to be said calmly and with authority but without sounding like a remake of Airport II. Non-seafaring folk may not be aware that the use of Whirlybirdisms like "Over and Out" is worse than ... well, a very bad thing out of a very very bad factory.
We motored all the way to Dunkerque. The Dover Straights Traffic Separation System was fine and the journey was easy. Dunkerque has two marinas, the "friendly" recommended one and the other one. The former is always full but the later is very friendly and entirely acceptable.
Visitors' Pontoon in Dunkerque (plus tip of Right Index Finger)
The weather wasn't ideal for sailing for several days to I spent my time planning the next leg of our adventure.
I discovered the following:
1. Belgium is next door to France and lies between France and the Netherlands
2. English sailors generally avoid Belgium (for obvious reasons .. see below)
3. Holland (our target destination) is part of The Netherlands
4. Everyone in The Netherlands speaks fluent English except for a laundrette assistant somewhere a long way north.
5. To navigate the Dutch inland waters we would need:
a. An International Certificate of Competence with an inland waterway endorsement
b. A printed copy of the Dutch Inland Waterways Regulations (in Dutch) aboard at all times
c. Our VHF radio programmed for A.T.I.S. (whatever that might be)
d. A cool head and a strong heart
e. Our boat's VAT certificate
f. A basic idea of how to "berth the boat in a box mooring"
The cruising guide which we had purchased advised us that the Dutch would enforce their regulations strictly and that the end of the world was nigh.
So looking at 5. a. to f. (above), I worked out that we failed all all counts (although on item d., I thought my heart, at least, was probably OK).
Although our cruising guide may or may not have been written by an obsessional depressive with a hangover, it was not bringing me happiness or reassurance. The local Dutch (and Belgian) yotties however explained (in English) that none of the above mattered at all ... except perhaps that I really should have got my inland waterway endorsement.
Anyway, to The Netherlands without stopping in Belgium.
We arrived in Breskens (in the Netherlands).
Our guide stressed the importance of completing a "Schengen" form in triplicate. We didn't.
All the local boaters reassured us that all the above was bo!!ocks and that we should try not to worry.
12 August 2018
To Middelburg
Getting to Middelburg, our first proper inland "up a canal" place involved
1. Crossing the Westerschelde (without impeding the ferries)
2. Entering the Sea lock at Vlissingen (aka as "Flushing" to us Brits)
3. Waiting for various bridges to open
4. Finding a berth in The Historic City of Middelburg
5. Getting the boat into a "Box Mooring".
Everything went fine apart from item 5.
The Box Mooring consisted of 2 posts (which I later measured to be) precisely 4 metres apart. Albatross is 3.6 metres wide and when festooned with fenders is approximately 4 metres wide.
I went for it backwards, obliquely and at speed. We hit one of the posts and bumped on into the berth. Various nice Dutch people all of whom were nice (obviously) and spoke English fluently (obviously) came to our aid and helped us tie up. One man kindly suggested that we should have taken our fenders off before attempting this delicate manoeuvre.
Box moorings in Middelburg
More moorings in Middelburg
We liked Middelburg, its canals and watery boat parking arrangements, the harbour mistress, the architecture and everything about the place. We met and interesting man from Essex in a 50 foot power boat who had just driven over from Essex (obviously) in bad weather. His wife and his dog had both vomited much of the way. The dog was a "German Shepherd" or some such thing. Almost as frightening as our Putin (but probably in better mental health). Our faithful Putin was of course still still at home and hopefully guarding it resolutely.
Jean exploring Middelburg
Having proved that could cope with "Dutch Inland Waterways" we visited the local "Jumbo" supermarket. This was much worse. I managed to get my trolley (without fenders) jammed between a pillar and the oriental pasta. Everyone was nice and spoke English.
Jean in Middelburg city centre
14 August
To Verre and Osterwatering.
It was tricky getting out of our Box Mooring as 3 giant motor cruisers had rafted together opposite our cosy berth leaving a gap of about 12 metres within which we would need to turn. But we made it. The other boaters were very nice (and spoke English). We had an easy trip down the canal but on arrival in Verre the marina looked full (really full, fuller than.. well you know) so we went instead to Oosterwatering. On arrival, this marina also looked full but the very nice Berthing Mistress advised us to raft onto the "Blue Motorboat on the Hammerhead". There were 2 Blue Motorboats, one on each hammerhead. One contained an unhelpful Englishman but the other was empty and Dutch and altogether a better place to berth. So we did.
Martin joined us in Oosterwatering. Martin knows about sailing, doesn't feel the cold and never gets seasick. Remarkably, Martin doesn't speak Dutch very well, but this didn't matter.
A tunnel in a dyke near Veere near Oosterwatering somewhere in The Netherlands
Locking out of a canal
15 August
We decided to explore some of The Inland Waters of The Netherlands and therefore set off for Colijnplaat. Colijnplaat is interesting, no only for the gratuitous over use of the letter "j" in its spelling (not to mention the double "a" later in the word, but also because it is very nice, friendly, Dutch and because we had to sail under a motorway bridge (with a gate under it it) to get there.
16 August
Next to Sint Annaland Marina in Zeeland.
A nice marina in a slightly boring town with a nice beach. We had a swim. Martin took us out to traditional dutch meal. We had chips with dutch sauce.
17 August
We sailed to Wemeldinge.
Wemeldinge has a marina, half of which is only accessible via a narrow channel with a lifting footbridge over it. The berth we were allocated would be, I decided, impossible to berth in without divine intervention. Even with Martin on board, we had no chance of making the sharp and complex turns required to get into the berth without wrecking several (nice) dutch boats in the process.
Under Martin's guidance we therefore decided to "rope the boat in".
Martin knows about boating (and even his Dutch was improving) and so he explained how we should berth somewhere easy and then pull the boat (with a very long rope) into the berth to which we had been assigned. Probably the best thing about the next couple of hours (from an international relations perspective) was the entertainment that we provided for so many very nice Dutch onlookers.
Martin's rope throwing did improve with practice. It is good to know that no one is perfect.
Wemeldinge is situated next to the entrance to the next canal that we would have to tackle, so we went for a very pleasant walk to explore the neighbourhood and to suss out the canal generally.
Next time .. somewhere else...
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