Onward and around Ireland

Tuesday 4^th 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 6^th 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 7^th 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 8^th 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 9^th 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 15^th 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.

16^th 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.

17^th 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.

19^th 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.

20^th 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.

21^st 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.

22^nd 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). 

24^th 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 25^th 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 28^th 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 29^th 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?