Monday 11th August 2008
The forecast is worse than ever with talk of Severe Gales (F9) on the UK South coast, Dover Straits and the Channel Islands. We should have left early this morning as there was a weather window. We may be able to make it this evening and beat the weather as it is forecast to start getting bad around Cherbourg 8am Tuesday morning and then really bad in the afternoon… If we don’t go today we will be stuck here in Le Havre until Thursday.
Do we risk it?...
Well we left at 5pm UK time with a bad feeling. To make matters worse, I discovered that the first reef block sheath had chunks missing out of it, and the main halyard mast block is broken. Not to mention Mike Stevens’ (The Rigging Guy) comment, ‘the rig definitely looks like it needs tightening’ replaying over and over in my head.
The impending forcast seemed surreal as there was no wind at all for the first 4-5 hours after setting off so we motor-sailed as making good time was critical! Slowly, the wind filled in and before long we were surfing the ever growing waves at around 8 knots (Speed over ground), with the motor on and full mainsail up with about 10 knots of apparent wind from behind us.
Just before ‘Barfleur’ I decided to put in two reefs as this headland looked like it could be a wind acceleration zone. This was to be one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life! All hell broke loose, the GPS speed was seen at over 9 knots quite a few times with the odd glimpse of 10 knots!!! The sea state got worse and it was very hard work trying to keep Doris from broaching. It was probably a good thing that the night was pitch black with thick cloud cover as seeing the size of the waves would probably have freaked us out! If I had to guess, I would say the wave height was between 2m – 3m.
Daz ‘played’ the mainsail continuously with me shouting at him ‘Watch the Gybe’ and ‘Ease the main’. He done an amazing job of spilling wind on the stronger gusts and it would have been a nightmare if not impossible to keep the boat sailing without him – all the hours spent reading sailing books must be working!
By this stage the wind was gusting over 25 knots and the waves were huge from just behind the beam. We fought to get ‘behind’ the land for some shelter but steering a course was almost impossible. Then it started thundering and lightening to add to the confusion and Mayday calls could be heard over the VHF from UK Coast guards.
Finally the waves seemed to get smaller as we made our way along the Barfleur headland, the winds eased and the rain started. In seconds we completely lost all sight of the coast and its lights and navigation was extremely difficult – God Bless GPS. We were both completely soaked through to the skin with gallons of water from the reefed mainsail sail constantly emptying over us.
As we rounded the coast on the Cherbourg side everything went strangely calm with barely 5 knots of wind showing on the display and a small sea swell, it was as if the storm hadn’t arrived here yet.. Daz quickly produced two much needed cups of coffee and chocolate biscuits. ‘We’ve made it’ we thought and slowly the Cherbourg approach lights came into view. About 5 miles from the outer approach the wind started to rise again until we were looking straight into 35 knot winds again! Luckily, our approach bearing took us straight into it and this was all I needed to get the mainsail down as fast as possible.
It was now just starting to get light and after much shouting and wrestling with pilotage notes we found our way inside Cherbourg, I wanted to get the fenders and lines all ready in clear water (Cherbourg Outer) before entering the actual marina and with the wind still howling managed to hold her steady for Daz to prepare things.
Suddenly, a huge black / grey ‘thing’ came at least a foot out of the water less than a meter to the right of the cockpit. I won’t lie, I shit myself! It was like the scene out of Jaws, ‘You’re gonna need a bigger boat!’. It was either a pilot whale or a dolphin. Whatever it was, it was huge and it played under the boat and alongside while we prepared the fenders etc.
Still a little freaked out, we headed for the only remaining empty berth, the central pontoon that is normally reserved for larger boats. With the wind still howling it was a struggle and the first attempt was aborted due to the wind grabbing the bow, unfortunately not before I gouged two lines down Doris’ port bow on the metal edged pontoons – bollox!
The second attempt went fine and we got the lines attached and secure. What a night! Daz commented ‘I don’t know if I like actually sailing or just prefer reading about it’.
After a few hours sleep, we were awakened by the knocking of some cute chick in a dinghy! At first I thought this might be French hospitality at its finest but it turned out to be the marina staff. I paid my 50Eu for two nights by credit card in the dinghy!
The rest of the day was spent listening to the howling winds, marooned on our central pontoon that isn’t connected to land. There was no chance of making the shore by rowing against such strong wind and if ever I needed an outboard it was today!
Well we left at 5pm UK time with a bad feeling. To make matters worse, I discovered that the first reef block sheath had chunks missing out of it, and the main halyard mast block is broken. Not to mention Mike Stevens’ (The Rigging Guy) comment, ‘the rig definitely looks like it needs tightening’ replaying over and over in my head.
The impending forcast seemed surreal as there was no wind at all for the first 4-5 hours after setting off so we motor-sailed as making good time was critical! Slowly, the wind filled in and before long we were surfing the ever growing waves at around 8 knots (Speed over ground), with the motor on and full mainsail up with about 10 knots of apparent wind from behind us.
Just before ‘Barfleur’ I decided to put in two reefs as this headland looked like it could be a wind acceleration zone. This was to be one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life! All hell broke loose, the GPS speed was seen at over 9 knots quite a few times with the odd glimpse of 10 knots!!! The sea state got worse and it was very hard work trying to keep Doris from broaching. It was probably a good thing that the night was pitch black with thick cloud cover as seeing the size of the waves would probably have freaked us out! If I had to guess, I would say the wave height was between 2m – 3m.
Daz ‘played’ the mainsail continuously with me shouting at him ‘Watch the Gybe’ and ‘Ease the main’. He done an amazing job of spilling wind on the stronger gusts and it would have been a nightmare if not impossible to keep the boat sailing without him – all the hours spent reading sailing books must be working!
By this stage the wind was gusting over 25 knots and the waves were huge from just behind the beam. We fought to get ‘behind’ the land for some shelter but steering a course was almost impossible. Then it started thundering and lightening to add to the confusion and Mayday calls could be heard over the VHF from UK Coast guards.
Finally the waves seemed to get smaller as we made our way along the Barfleur headland, the winds eased and the rain started. In seconds we completely lost all sight of the coast and its lights and navigation was extremely difficult – God Bless GPS. We were both completely soaked through to the skin with gallons of water from the reefed mainsail sail constantly emptying over us.
As we rounded the coast on the Cherbourg side everything went strangely calm with barely 5 knots of wind showing on the display and a small sea swell, it was as if the storm hadn’t arrived here yet.. Daz quickly produced two much needed cups of coffee and chocolate biscuits. ‘We’ve made it’ we thought and slowly the Cherbourg approach lights came into view. About 5 miles from the outer approach the wind started to rise again until we were looking straight into 35 knot winds again! Luckily, our approach bearing took us straight into it and this was all I needed to get the mainsail down as fast as possible.
It was now just starting to get light and after much shouting and wrestling with pilotage notes we found our way inside Cherbourg, I wanted to get the fenders and lines all ready in clear water (Cherbourg Outer) before entering the actual marina and with the wind still howling managed to hold her steady for Daz to prepare things.
Suddenly, a huge black / grey ‘thing’ came at least a foot out of the water less than a meter to the right of the cockpit. I won’t lie, I shit myself! It was like the scene out of Jaws, ‘You’re gonna need a bigger boat!’. It was either a pilot whale or a dolphin. Whatever it was, it was huge and it played under the boat and alongside while we prepared the fenders etc.
Still a little freaked out, we headed for the only remaining empty berth, the central pontoon that is normally reserved for larger boats. With the wind still howling it was a struggle and the first attempt was aborted due to the wind grabbing the bow, unfortunately not before I gouged two lines down Doris’ port bow on the metal edged pontoons – bollox!
The second attempt went fine and we got the lines attached and secure. What a night! Daz commented ‘I don’t know if I like actually sailing or just prefer reading about it’.
After a few hours sleep, we were awakened by the knocking of some cute chick in a dinghy! At first I thought this might be French hospitality at its finest but it turned out to be the marina staff. I paid my 50Eu for two nights by credit card in the dinghy!
The rest of the day was spent listening to the howling winds, marooned on our central pontoon that isn’t connected to land. There was no chance of making the shore by rowing against such strong wind and if ever I needed an outboard it was today!
4 comments:
Can I just state darling, for the record, you are officially mad! Whilst i had a hunch (I'm a bit slow to catch on to some things)I've finally made up my mind - I'm dating a complete raving lunatic!
Your blog's quite entertaining (albeit worrying too) & makes a good read (even if you have just narrated the saga over the phone immediately before reading it)! Good work!
And, whilst you are showing potentially suicidal tendancies, can I please advise you don't try taking a nightly stroll round the breakwater tonight (a la Brighton stylee) or you'll fall off the end of your "petit pontoon"!
night night nutter-boy
x
Bloody Hell! And you aren't really out of the English channel yet!
I vote for plan B) Sail round the Isle of Wight for two years then return triumphant and say how great South America was!
Joking aside, glad you are both ok, how bad is the damage? Pictures?
While it was rather scary at the time, hindsight tells me that I wasn't in as much danger as my inexperience told me I was.
It was a wild ride but the boat can easily take a lot more than we experienced - 'In Doris We Trust!'
The boat is in more danger from pontoons and marinas than storms with me behind the wheel!...
It was also an amazing feeling simply getting through it all and I really learnt a lot about both the boat and myself. While I'm sure I will get caught in bad weather again, its not something I plan on making a habit of.
Biscay is just around 'the corner!'
Boo.
Good luck Simon. Don't forget to keep us all informed.
Conundrum. Hanse 350 #144
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