Wednesday 7 August 2019

Dartmouth and the Devon coast



 Readers will remember that our previous episode ended in crisis with “black stuff” coming out under our engine with just 25 miles to go before a safe arrival in Dartmouth.  You will remember that Jean had stopped the engine and that I was trying to sound calm.

When it comes to engineering, I have learnt that ignorance is king.
Jean (anxiously) “What do you think is wrong, Darling?”
Me (convincingly) “No idea at all, Dear”
Jean (anxiously) “What do you think we should do, Darling?”
Me (authoritatively) “Ignore it”.

We ignored the “black stuff everywhere” and motored into Dartmouth, moored on our trots, slept, and next morning found our way back to Stoke Gabriel. Oblivious to the fact that our engine had just trashed its fresh water pump bearings and was, technically speaking, “entirely stuffed”.

Having narrowly survived a trip around Ireland without assistance from any of the emergency services, and having installed a new fresh water pump, we soon started to feel that it was time to go sailing again.

25th July 2019

We sailed to Anstey’s Cove.  The Summer Heatwave of 2019 was well established and we both thought that a brief trip eastward along the Devon coast was indicated.  Anstey’s Cove is a very pleasant bay, just east of Torbay and perfect for an “overnight anchorage in settled weather”.  So we did.  Swimming around the boat before supper was lovely.


Anstey's Cove, Beach and Anchorage

We motored back to Dartmouth next morning, and nothing broke.

31st July 2019

To Teignmouth.
We usually avoid harbours that appear to be shallow, crowded with leisure craft, difficult to berth in or, simply appear to be rather challenging.  In other words “like Teignmouth”.
As far as I could tell, we would only be able to get in with at least half a tide under us and that tide needed to be rising.
Jean phoned the Harbour Master. 
“No problem at all, there is plenty of water all day today and lots of space on the visitors’ pontoons.”
We enjoyed an easy visit to Teignmouth and stayed 2 nights.
We motored home to Dartmouth, stopping for lunch and a swim at  Scabbacombe Sands, and nothing broke.

Friday 12 July 2019

Onward and around Ireland



Tuesday 4th June 2019

The dog was fine (ish) and the grass was cut.
 It was time to leave Essex and head back to Kilrush
.
Unfortunately a Mr Trump had also been visiting Blighty.
 Unfortunately he also now wanted to go to Ireland. Unfortunately he was also flying to Shannon International Airport.  Apparently he has a golf club near there. Fortunately he was not flying with Ryanair. Unfortunately the Irish Police (Gardai) had to be out in force, presumably to protect us from him.

Simon (the marina manager) very kindly picked us up from Shannon Airport and drove us to Kilrush Marina. We didn’t stop at the golf course.

There had been a “proper storm” in our absence but Albatross was well. I noticed that the marina staff had kindly adjusted our ropes and checked that all was well.

If you are thinking of sailing around Ireland, do visit Kilrush. It is perfect.  If you are thinking of leaving your boat on the west coast of Ireland, leave her at Kilrush.  If you plan to overwinter your boat in Ireland, leave her in Kilrush.  (We like Kilrush, the town, the marina and all her excellent staff).

Thursday 6th June 2019

Replete with best green diesel we left Kilrush for Kilronan in the Aran Islands. (“Aran” means “Island” in Gaelic.)

 (The Aran Islands are 3 rocky isles guarding the mouth of Galway Bay, in western Ireland. They’re known for their ancient sites. The largest island, Inishmore, is home to the prehistoric fort of Dún Aonghasa, perched on top of a high cliff. Nearby is the Worm Hole, a rectangular natural pool. The medieval ruins of the Seven Churches are in the northwest. Clochán na Carraige is a stone structure with a beehive roof.) (Thanks Wikipedia)

We covered the 60 nautical miles to Kilronan in just under 10 hours (without Martin) and with little use of the engine, and anchored outside the small fishing harbour there.


Fossilised elephant goes for a swim?

 
Friday 7th June

The forecast was good. Rather than stopping to enjoy the Aran Islands, we decided to press on with our voyage and motored the 41 nautical miles to Inishbofin.

“Inish” means “Island” in Gaelic.  “Bofin” means “white cow”.


Inishbofin


Inishbofin harbour entrance is guarded by the ruins of a castle that was constructed when Cromwell took the place back from Spanish pirates long ago.  The entrance to the harbour is marked by two stout white towers. Line them up and motor in … well, don’t actually as they aren’t quite right. Much better to use the new modern sectored light and avoid going into the red or the green zones.


The castle


Unfortunately, the light wasn’t working very well.  
Anyway we got in and didn’t run aground until about 20 minutes later.

Inishbofin harbour has a new pontoon and an old pontoon. The old pontoon is fine for a dinghy and the new pontoon is for the ferry.  We decide to anchor near the new pontoon.  Determined to find the best spot to drop the anchor, we ran aground twice; both times in exactly the same place.


Inishbofin anchorage




Saturday 8th June

We were on holiday! Time for a walk and some exploring.

We flubbered ashore and enjoyed a very pleasant walk to one end of the island.  Peace and tranquillity with a complete absence of white cows.  Lunch in the pub.   A second, shorter, walk.  Back to the boat.

I worried about the anchor. Had I put out enough scope?  I checked the weather (Inish Boffin anchorage, despite being one of the most remote places in Europe, has excellent WIFI  … eat your heart out Dartmouth).  
We slept. I woke up worrying about the anchor and the weather.

Sunday 9th June

To Broadhaven.
I started the engine.  Jean started the windlass. All was well for at least 10 seconds then the windlass stopped
“Must have tripped” I said confidently.   
Head under the back cabin mattresses I eventually found the windlass trip switch. It hadn’t tripped, but I broke it while trying to re-set it (because, obviously, as it hadn’t tripped, it couldn’t be re-set).  

“I’ll have to find the fault and then short out the trip switch” I explained confidently.

I pressed the engine “STOP” button and nothing at all happened.  Windlass won’t go and engine won’t stop.  I found a stop button somewhere under the engine and eventually all was calm again (except me, that is).

Two hours later having wiggled and poked every electrical connection I could find, I noticed that a main wire to the engine battery was loose.  I tightened it and botched together something to short out the windlass circuit breaker and we were ready to go!  
I pressed the engine “START” button.
Nothing.

One hour later I found that whilst wiggling and poking, I’d managed to loosen the wire to the engine starter solenoid.
The engine started.  The anchor came up. 
We were off!

I looked at the depth sounder.  “86.8 feet”.  
“Blimey” I thought, “when we anchored it was 4 metres”.
Turning on and off the engine and waggling all those loose wires had managed to upset the settings on all the instruments.  
We crept out of Inish Boffin harbour with no idea of the depth. But we didn’t hit anything.

After so much excitement our trip to Broadhaven felt fairly routine.  We mainly motored the 50 miles to our anchorage and arrived at 2000.

There was another yacht in the anchorage (something of a first to have company in these remote parts).  
We slept.

10th June 2019

The forecast promised us a nasty northerly F5-6 from 1300 onwards.  If we could get well into Donegal Bay before the headwind got too strong we might make Killybegs without undue stress. 
So, up at 0500, anchor weighed at 0530, engine on and 7.3 knots for 5 hours.
 When the wind did come it was F4 easterly on the beam and we could sail, no problem!

Killybegs Marina is not marked on my plotter (and the cartography chip is still only 10 years old), but Jean knew where to find it.   
As instructed in the almanac, we called on Channel  14.  
They would call us back.  They didn’t.  We found a berth. No problems.


Jean in Killybags

Killybegs is the biggest fishing port in Ireland.   If I were a herring swimming anywhere in the Northern Atlantic, having seen the size of the fishing vessels parked there, I would be worried. Very worried.

Killybegs marina is quite new.  
One of its cleverest features is to provide 32 amp shore power sockets for visiting yachts.  
The local chandlery does however, sell the appropriate 32 amp adapters at 30 Euros each.  
There are no loos or showers, but we were told that it might be possible to enrol for gym membership at a nearly hotel and then to use their facilities.

Fuel was more of a problem
“Well, last year I believe there was a man selling heating fuel who might be able to help, but I think he’s retired. You could look on the internet.”

I visited the harbour fuel depot. 
“How many thousand gallons would you be needing?” the nice man said, looking at my two 10 litre cans.

Eventually we found a filling station a mile of so down the Donegal Road
“Would we be able to borrow a trolley or something to help carry our cans back to the boat?” I asked.
“I can lend you some cans and take them there for you in my van” was the reply. 
We were duly dropped off with 80 litres of finest green Irish heating (and boat propulsion) fuel.

When it came to returning the empty cans, another kind fisherman approached us offering a lift with our empty cans in his van, even though he hadn’t been planning to go that way.
Such was the kindness of the people of Killybegs.

We spent several days in Killybegs waiting for our friend Al to arrive and for decent weather.
 While there we visited the Killybegs Carpet Factory Museum which had the “widest loom in the world” and we failed to visit the famous Slieve League cliffs.  These cliffs are “the highest in Europe” and “the second highest in Ireland”. 

The marina was a friendly place and we enjoyed meeting and eating with Liam and Gerald, sailors from another boat, whose water pump I repaired.


Pump seal removal tool ( can also be used for stirring tea)


Sat 15th June 2019

Having met Al in Donegal the previous evening, we left Killybegs at 1000 headed for Aranmore.

Aranmore. “Aran” island, “more” big. Get it?

We anchored just south of Calf Island and NE of the Obelisk.  We were too tired for flubbering and had supper aboard.

16th June

There was a strong wind warning but we got F0-3 variable.  
We motored to Tullagh Bay next to Binnion Sands just east of the entrance to Lough Swilly. We anchored.  
I wrote a report for Captain’s Mate.
 Life was peaceful, calm and good. 
The anchor chain rumbled on the seabed as the tide changed. I remembered it was time to be anxious again, for tomorrow was Malin Head Day.

17th June

To Coleraine via Malin Head

Malin Head is the most northerly extremity of County Donegal and indeed Ireland.  
Unsurprisingly it is prone to savage tidal streams and tropical typhoons.  
When dealing with the former I have learnt that it is a good idea to arrive at the right time.
So we got up at 0430 and left at 0500.  
We had a gentle F3 engine-assisted run to Malin Head followed by F4-6 close reach most of the way to Coleraine.

Coleraine Marina is about 5 miles up the river. It is well-sheltered, friendly and generally very nice.


Coleraine Marina


We were back in the UK.  I took down our Irish courtesy flag but left up those of my two favourite organisations.  The Cruising Association and The European Union. Both organisations are great.
If you think leaving the EU is a good idea, go and talk to the Irish, north and south, now think again (and grow up).

We liked Coleraine, its marina, its marina manager, its expensive red diesel and its friendly welcoming people. Coleraine even has a Sainburys.

Meeting up with old friends from our undergraduate days, we were taken on a beautiful train ride along the coast of Lough Swilly to Derry.
Even if you think you already understand the history of Ireland and the Troubles, visit Derry.  Join the guided tour of the city walls. See the city, the Guild Hall. Reflect.



19th June

Next stop Ballycastle.  Ballycastle lies on the mainland just opposite Rathlin Island. Regular reader(s) will remember that we visited Rathlin Island in 2015 and that this area has some of the strongest tides in Europe (if not the world).  It is therefore important to get these right. And so we did.

Ballycastle has everything for the aspiring yachtsman and is in general  “a jolly good place”.
It even has a ruined Friary to explore, so we did.

20th June

To Bangor  (Bangor Ireland, not Bangor Wales).   We sailed all the way, assisted by the mighty local tidal streams.
On the way we sailed past the Giant's Causeway.


Giant's Causeway

Bangor Marina is large and efficient.  So large and efficient that I can scarcely remember a thing about it.  Perhaps my amnesia was enhanced by the wonderful food and drink we enjoyed at a local restaurant that evening.

21st June

To Ardglass.  The marina is run by an elderly gentleman and his dog plus anyone else who feels like it.  It is a friendly, unremarkable sort of a place where everyone knows that “you must make sure that you get a berth that is deep enough for your boat”.  This, like most things Irish, is not a problem, but we did anyway.

22nd June

To Howth.  
There are two important things to remember about Howth.
1.      Howth is pronounced “Howt”  (probably)
2.      Howth marina is actually part of a sailing club and gets very busy when the racing finishes at about 1700 on Saturdays.

We arrived at about 1700 on a Saturday (just as the racing was ending).
It was very busy and quite a pain generally.

We had Fish and Chips from one of the best Fish and Chips shops in the world (if not in Ireland itself). 

24th June

Al (our friend and resident Professor or Marine Biology) had to go home today. We left him on the pontoon at 0550, which seemed rather unkind, but we had a tide to catch and tides must.  
To this day, my overriding regret about this voyage (Marine Biologically speaking) is that although, with Al’s guidance we saw a plethora of sea birds, dolphins, seals and whales on this trip, there was a total absence of penguins.

Anyway, to Arklow.  We like Arklow with its long pontoon (for an easy landing), despite the long walk to the sanitary facilities. 
Arklow however, is now even better than last time we visited. 
Arklow is blessed. 
Arklow has a Lidl.

Tuesday 25th June

To Kilmore Quay.
We remembered KQ as a quiet little passage port with good facilities and plenty of visitors’ berthing.
Alas how it’s changed.
We called in on the VHF and were sent to a berth which we were asked to vacate again just as we were fastening our lines. 
HM:       “Just go down and berth at the end”
Me:        “Sorry, there’s a big barge there” 
HM:       “Oh, can’t see that from our office. Berth on the East hammerhead”
Me:        Thinking … tiny gap, rafted against a very small boat, in probably not enough depth “That looks quite difficult”
HM:       “Go on the West hammerhead and I’ll be down in moment to sort you all out”

We rafted 3 deep and the HM didn’t appear.


KQ


When it comes to rafting, there are two sorts of yachtsmen: Friendly and Unfriendly.

The Friendly Yachtsman. 
He sees you motoring around helplessly, tired and anxious.  He waves, catches your eye and shouts, “Would you like to come alongside? 
No problem at all. 
I’ll help you with your lines.

The Unfriendly Yachtsman.
He sees you motoring around helplessly, tired and anxious.  You shout. At first he pretends not to hear. Your eyes don’t meet.  Quickly, he goes down to his cabin.  You shout again.  He reappears.
Us:         Can we raft please?
Him:       One or more of the following:
                A             We will be leaving at 0300”
                B             I think you’d be better over there (points to the side of a monster fishing boat)”
                C             You are too big / small”
                D             The dog’s asleep

We found a Friendly Yachtsman and his wife.  What nice people.  Thank you, Yacht Fornautic.

Kilmore Quay (KQ) is a nice place, even if the berthing may be challenging.

At KQ for security purposes you give the HM your mobile number and to access the pontoon or the “facilities” you simply dial a number on your phone and this cleverly sends a message to unlock the whatever.   
On my third trip to “the facilities”, I did make it work. Unfortunately by this time I had forgotten quite why I was there.  
During daytime the “facilities” door is kept open by a rubber mat jammed in the thresh, and the pontoon gate is kept open by a cunning piece of string.  In extremis, a nice lady who spends her day sitting by the gate eating ice cream and knitting has a secret way of opening it.  
If all else fails, I understand you can kick it open.


The beach at KQ


We had three days in KQ. Mainly checking the weather and dithering about it.

We had the following sources of weather information:
1.       The Shipping Forecast
2.       The Inshore Waters Forecast
3.       Pocket Grib (on my phone)
4.       XC Weather  (on Jean’s phone)
5.       The printout on the wall up at the “facilities”
6.       The friendly boat next door.

The key to successful passage planning for a voyage from the SE tip of Ireland (AKA KQ) to the SW tip of Cornwall (AKA Newlyn) is set off on a day when all the above promise F4 on the beam for the next 30 hours or so (ideally with warm continuous sunshine and favourable tidal streams).

Eventually I realised that we could either “risk it” on the Friday, for which we were being offered an Easterly followed by not-a-lot followed by a Southerly followed by a South-westerly, or we could wait in KQ till Christmas and then fly home.  I had decided. We would go for it on Friday.

Friday 28th June 2019

Normally for a 150 mile voyage we would try to recruit Martin.  This would mean that we had at least 2 competent sailors aboard (Martin and Jean) and I could just pretend to be in charge.

Jean and I set off.  
We agreed to have a two hourly watch system, so that I could get as much sleep as possible.  
The forecast turned out to be wrong and we set off beating in big waves with all three reefs in.   
I thought that this was a great opportunity for a rest and tried to settle down below.  
After about an hour of being thrown around in my bunk, I decided that if I was going to vomit it would be nicer to do it on deck.   I had taken my Stugeron already but still had my magic bullet in reserve.  Blog follower(s) will remember that a nice greasy cold pork pie (if sufficiently heavy) will always prevent sea-sickness.   The trouble was that, despite being the Ship’s Doctor, I could not bring myself to swallow a pork pie.

We staggered on.  We considered heading back to KQ. As usual in these circumstances we considered selling the boat and buying a very nice camper van. But in the end we just plodded on.  After about 6 hours, the waves decreased, the wind dropped, we put the engine on, the dolphins started to follow us and life became (almost) good again.

Later, in the depth of night, as we crossed the Celtic Deeps we were joined by dozens of dolphins. As it was pitch dark we couldn’t see them but we could the phosphorescence created in the water as they zoomed under the boat.

Our nav lights weren’t working so I crawled up to the bow to give them a good rattling. Below me was the glow of the track of 5 dolphins swimming together in a parallel row just in front of the boat.

We both managed a little sleep (not at the same time) and successfully avoided all the other shipping as we crossed the Land’s End Traffic Separation Scheme. (Despite us having no nav lights).

 I did consider putting out a Securite.  
“Securite, Securite, Securite. This is yacht Albatross 20 miles North West of Land’s End. Motoring in the dark with no nav lights, because we didn’t get round to fixing them when we noticed they didn’t work about 6 weeks ago when we were last in the parts”  but for some reason I thought this might not be a very good idea.

Saturday 29th June 2019

After 26 hours, several Stugeron and no pork pies we arrived in Newlyn.

The rest of the trip should now be routine, I thought.

A day off in Newlyn.  50 miles to Fowey and another 50 to Dartmouth.  With favourable but light winds and a nearly new engine, what could possibly go wrong?

2nd July 2019

25 miles more to go to Dartmouth. 
So we’re going to make it after all”  I heard myself think.
“Better just check the engine”.
I pulled back the engine cover.
Black stuff everywhere. 
Under the engine was a black puddle.
 Oil, coolant, rubber.
“Darling” I shouted (trying to sound calm), “Stop the engine! there’s black stuff coming out all over the place”

Jean turned off the engine.

Now what?
               






Tuesday 28 May 2019

Kinsale to Kilrush


5th May 2019

To Crookhaven.

The plan was to get as far as possible around Ireland whilst regaining our health and pulmonary function.

As Ship’s Doctor I was especially concerned to note that, presumably as a result of The Virus, none of the ship’s company had retained any interest in drinking wine.  Even The Captain (me) couldn’t countenance the smallest glass of the stuff.
  
We had, for the first time since “A” Levels become involuntarily Tea Total.

Crookhaven is a safe and easy place to anchor. 
We found a spot just off Granny Island, which did at least sound comforting.

6th May

To Dingle. 58NM

We had a comparatively easy voyage. 
Doris helmed. 
I slept. 
Everyone coughed.

Dingle is a little gem.

We were welcomed (of course) by Fungie, the resident Bottlenose dolphin.  
Fungie has for many years been the backbone of the Dingle economy. 
Fungie-watching apparently attracts tourists from as far south as Baltimore and as far north as Craggy Island.  
Unfortunately Fungie is actually Fungie The Third.   
(Fungie 1 got entangled in fishing nets and Fungie 2 was shot by some delinquent youths, but Fungie 3 is doing fine).

We like Dingle Marina and her Harbour Master.  
We refuelled with particularly fine green diesel (which for some reason was only available for cash) and settled down to convalesce in this beautiful town.  

Dingle has a Lidl (in fact there are now 150 Lidls in Ireland but only 149 Tescos) and you can buy fish and chips, postcards and stamps for England elsewhere in the town.  

My only slight criticism, perhaps, is that the marina’s lovely modern shower block doesn’t have any heating and on one occasion the lovely modern shower didn’t have any water. 
We understand that the Irish are much tougher than we English.

We went on a minibus tour of the local views and archaeology and learnt all about the making of Ryan’s Daughter and Star Wars XII (or so).


Bus tour from Dingle


Beach near Dingle



10th May

To Fenit.

To get to Fenit  we needed to transit Blasket Sound.  
Reader(s) will of course remember that Santa Maria de La Rosa foundered in Blasket Sound on her way back home after the Armada in 1588.  Apparently this disaster resulted from a navigational error rather than a miscalculation of the prevailing tidal streams but, none the less, I was determined that we should get our “tidal calcs” right on this occasion.   
Martin, worked them out,  Jean checked them (and I asked the Harbour Master).  All agreed. 
We survived.

Fenit is another lovely town.  
The harbour and marina is built on a rock which is attached to the mainland by a long causeway. Many years ago there was a cunning plan to turn Fenit into an important west coast port (because it is on the west coast of Ireland and therefore significantly nearer America where most Irish people now live). Unfortunately the plan never really took off and Fenit remains a nice little place.

Fenit Top tip 1:  Communicating with the Harbour Master.
The Harbour Master is very nice and helpful. Communication is best achieved by the full use of all available prostheses.    
1. Put on your glasses (so you can see what he’s saying)  
2. Put in your hearing aid, if you have one (so that you can hear what he’s saying)   
3. Arrange any dialogue to happen just before or after meal times (so that the Harbour Master has his teeth in).

The main thing about Fenit is the famous statue of the “Mermaid with the Big Boobies”.


The Mermaid



12 May

To Kilrush

An easy trip (by sea … in a boat).

Kilrush marina is cleverly hidden up a dredged channel behind an island (called “Scattery Island”) in a creek (called “Kilrush Creek”), a little way up the mighty River Shannon (which is full of dolphins). 

This is a pukka marina with mechanically operated lock gates.  

To get in: 
1. Call the marina on Ch 80.  The outer gates will open.   
2. Motor confidently into the lock.  
3. Read and follow the lock gate operating instructions (nothing will happen).  
4. Await arrival of Simon (who is very nice and who is also in charge).  Simon will make you very welcome and will also press some different (concealed) buttons and the gate will open.   
5. Find your allocated berth and park with bows facing to the west.

We very much like Kilrush and its marina  and Simon who made us very welcome and later gave us a  
lift to Shannon Airport (for a quick trip home to Blighty).


Friday 17 May 2019

Newlyn to Kinsale


Arriving beats any amount of hope when travelling.

We had 3 restful days in Newlyn, moored next to Johan Sebastian; a rather rusty 36 footer from  whose cabins, it is believed, about 38 unfortunate Vietnamese citizens had emerged quite recently, only to be arrested when their minivan was subsequently stopped on the M5.  Anyway, it was time to get on with our adventure again.

Newlyn to anywhere in Ireland is much too far. We would aim at Baltimore. We looked up Baltimore on Google only to find that it was somewhere in America and really not a good destination at all.  Anyway we set off, firm in the belief that with some judicious tacking we might be in Ireland sometime before Brexit.  We might have F5 on the nose, 170 miles to go, and to be honest, very little enthusiasm for sailing upwind in the rain at night when it was cold but we all knew that “this was yachting” and this was what we had to do to get to Ireland.
 (This of course was entirely untrue as we could have gone by air of have even booked a perfectly sensible ferry.)
However, we did have Martin on board. Martin however, was not entirely alone. He was accompanied by a virus.

It was not long at all before Martin asked whether we had any Stugeron.   On balance I thought this was a slightly bad omen.  Readers will know that Martin doesn’t get seasick.

In the drizzle, heading out of Newlyn harbour I reflected on our recent departure from our pontoon.  Having just cheerily explained to a neighbouring boat how much blue water sailing we had accomplished over the years, he might not have been entirely impressed by the way we left the berth.  It really doesn’t matter how much reverse throttle is applied if your bow isn’t untied from the pontoon.  Another nice onlooker reminded us that we had “ropes in the water” and eventually we escaped.

The crossing to Baltimore was rapidly abandoned in favour of Kinsale. Kinsale is nearer and has a pontoon and a washing machine.

Newlyn to Kinsale took 28 hours, none of which were even slightly pleasurable.  We adopted our tried and tested watch system in which Martin generally helms (ably assisted by Doris) while Jean made nutritious chicken stews (interspersed with Cup-a-Soups) and I slept.  The system was more complicated than usual as Martin’s “nasty virus” seemed to be developing into some sort of bronchopneumonia.

Anyway, 28 hours, 14 Stugeron , 8 Cup-a-Soups and 45 litres of (red) diesel  later we limped into Kinsale, re-fuelled (without destroying anything of much importance) and went to sleep
.
Over the next 36 hours Martin’s virus spread to the entire ship’s company apart from Doris. This, I felt was entirely unfair, because if Doris had got it, at least she wouldn’t have coughed.

Berthed in Kinsale

Dartmouth to Newlyn


24th April 2019

Ireland here we come!  But first Devon, Cornwall and all that.

We left Kingswear visitors'  pontoon at 1140 (sharp), thus managing to ensure that the tide was generally adverse most of the way to Fowey. I wont bore you (Dear Reader) with any of the exciting technical problems that arose on the trip. Suffice it to say that we arrived in Fowey where we worked out a cunning plan how to avoid Hurricane Hannah.

Our plan was startlingly simple in its simplicity:
We would hide up the Fowey whilst Hannah wizzed past.
We soon worked out that it  would be even more fun if we got on a train and nipped over to Penzance to  stay with my sister Angela whilst Hannah was around.  Train travel, it turned out, was much quicker than marine navigation and didn't require any knowledge of tidal steams.

28th April

To Falmouth!
We made it to Falmouth.

Martin and Julie visited which was nice.  They looked well.

29th April

To Newlyn.

After a last minute decision to go around the Lizard despite being nearly 2 hours late for the "tidal gate" we went anyway  and suffered no ill consequences despite passing only a mile and a half south of the point.  There was no wind. We motored all the way.

Next:  To Ireland, probably.




Saturday 6 April 2019

Iam ver hiemem interrupta navigabant

Yes indeed, Sailing was interrupted by winter but now it is spring.

First, the lift out...............

On Monday 28th January, we puttered up to Galmpton Creek to be lifted out.  I manoeuvred Albatross into the slings, the crane's engine roared, I turned off our (almost new) engine and we were lifted into the air. We disembarked and Albatross was towed into the boat park.for jet washing.

25 minutes after we had left the water, someone pointed out that THERE WAS SMOKE COMING OUT OF ALBATROSS' EXHAUST.

Panic.  I grabbed a ladder and rushed on board. The engine, my new shiny engine, was still running. I hadn't stopped it, when I thought I had.  I did now.

Gingerly I peeked into the engine compartment, expecting to be hit by a wall of heat and destruction.  The engine looked fine. Not even that clinking sound of overheated metal.

"Let it cool down and sort it out tomorrow" someone said.

We went home. How stupid could I be? What an idiot.  A new engine ruined?

The wisdom was that I would need a new water pump, a new head gasket, possibly a new heat exchanger, a new exhaust elbow and exhaust pipe.  The muffler/ water trap (which is made of high density polyethylene (aka "plastic"), and retails at about £200) would have melted.  Basically, if you run a water-cooled marine engine without any water-cooling for 25 minutes you might as well throw it away and get a new one.

The engine, it  turned out was fine.   The cooling pump impeller had lost 3 of its 6 fins. Otherwise everything was fine.  Bloody Hell.

Winter maintenance now started in earnest.
We had a long list of essential repairs.
Inevitably, 6 weeks later (when we were due to be lifted back in) hardly any of these essentials had been repaired.  However, Jean had polished the topsides so beautifully that briefly I became "the owner of the boat with the beautifully polished topsides" rather than "that idiot who left his engine running for 25 minutes after he was lifted out of the water".

I did paint Albatross' bottom and realign the engine and prop shaft and even attempted to stop the stern gland from leaking but, all in all (as usual), we failed in our quest to make her like new again.



Monday 11th March.
We were lifted in and puttered back to our temporary winter mooring in Kingswear.

Wednesday 27th March.
A 200 metre voyage (without charts) back to our permanent mooring proceeded without crisis.

Friday 28th March.
Sails on and almost ready for summer.

Next time "Hibernia fatisque vocantia", and why I've been practising my Latin.