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?
