St. Quay Portieux to Camaret - Take2

Friday 22nd August 2008
We woke up around 10am and quickly made the decision to try again that same evening. The forecast we had been promised yesterday was evidently 24hrs late! I rechecked all the forecasts and the sea states from the surfing websites and all said that the weather window was going to be ‘open’ to make this lengthy 150 nm (for a coastal trip) leg of the journey.

We purchased some supplies and went back to bed until 5pm. 9pm (French time) saw us heading back out to sea with no wind at all. The motor was required for the first 4hrs until we reached the more exposed coastline. With the sea state being a lot better than the previous attempt things looked promising.

That is until, just after Daz had gone below for a sleep. I watched as the wind rose steadily from around 10knots to 20 knots in mere minutes, then, with gusts of over 25 knots and heavy rain we were like a runaway train. Quickly, reducing sail we got things back under control as the wind reduced slightly but remained at around 17 knots.

With some moonlight shining through the now reduced cloud I could see the huge evil black ‘thing’ we had just passed through. Squalls happen very fast at night and with little warning, as a result our speed of reefing sails is getting to the point of being ‘polished’.

Single line reefing is a ‘Godsend’, no matter what Cunliff says but I am starting to see the pitfalls of having to go on deck to use the third reef in a rough sea, thankfully things haven’t got bad enough to require it – yet!

We sailed on throughout the night tacking our way along the coastline until we got to ‘Les Sept Isles’ where the sea started to build. Eventually, I could not gain any ground on the seaward tack due to the wind and sea state and the motor was turned on.

Then it started…

At almost the same spot we had aborted the previous attempt (closer inland), the seas started to get very steep and ‘confused’. Huge walls of water with a wave length smaller than the boat started hitting us. Small cycles started that involved going down a very steep wave – when I say steep, I mean actually looking downward towards the bow of the boat! – before being accelerated vertically up the next wave face almost immediately resulting in the entire 35ft boat being air born before every muscle in my body tensed waiting for the inevitable ‘slam’.

This was the most scared I had been so far. Not for fear of dying or anything like that but for losing the mast or doing structural damage to Doris. After a while I started to learn that as long as I carried the very small amount of speed (less than 2knots), even the large very scary looking walls of water were easily handled by taking them at about 45 degrees. The ride itself was still quite scary but without any slamming. The only way to describe it is, imagine a really smooth roller coaster ride in a skate park!

By now it was just starting to get light and with a ‘Lee Shore’ I started to get a little worried about progress and drift. By maintaining a very slow speed I was essentially sailing ‘on the spot’. All in all I think we lost between 4-6 hours of any forward momentum, again I’m guessing due to tides causing the sea state. The seas started to go down and slowly we started to make progress.

Slowly throughout the day the sea got calmer and the winds reduced resulting in a superb sail along the coast.

Later in the afternoon we thought it was time that the Hydrovane earned its keep.
What can I say, Superb! Even initial trials and me not really knowing its intricacies it helmed and held a course better than either of us. It also reduced any tendency to slam off wave tops.

We rounded Ushant between 2200 and 2300 UTC as I had been reluctant to attempt the ‘Chenal Du Four’ for the first time in the dark, despite the tide times being ‘doable’.

Just passed Ushant, the wind died completely and on went the motor. Daz took over the helm to allow me get some sleep. I helmed the final approaches until entering the ‘Rade De Brest’ where I had to call Daz from sleeping below to give a second opinion on what I was seeing.

Studying the maps etc I had a mental picture of what I was expecting to see in front of me. However, what was supposed to be a huge open bay appeared to be a small bay with rocky outcrops running through it. The GPS was telling me to steer 94 degrees for over 4nm straight through what looked like a 10ft high rocky wall!

Out came the laptop, squinting through binoculars we simply could not match up the maps with reality. I continued to slowly edge forward with on eye fixed on the depth gauge. Nothing made any sense, my depth was over 35m and yet I could clearly see rocks ahead.

Very slowly, the ‘walls’ got bigger until I realised what I was looking at were cliffs! The bay was indeed massive but a combination of being at sea for ‘two days’ with very little sleep and the low dawn light had completely thrown me.

The approach into Cameret was lovely and the size of the Rade De Brest (witht the walls being cliffs) meant that a relaxed approach could be taken. With the sun rising, Daz got the lines and fenders sorted and we removed the Hydrovane rudder.

By now we were both a little worse for wear with Daz's lips taking the brunt of the conditions we had weathered!

After taking a quick ‘drive by’ look at our available berth and a few turns made in confined room with more than a few spectators, the mooring went smoothly (I was actually quite impressed myself) and we were tied up by 0700 UTC.

We had made it! This stretch of coastline has been a nightmare and from this point on (Touch Wood), we should start getting improved weather.

I hosed down Doris as she was a bit of a state and we walked into town to get some bread etc. I could barely walk straight and felt drunk, with my legs being very wobbly. If this is an indication of things to come, I am going to suffer ‘Land Sickness’ on longer trips.

It’s amazing the safe and cozy feeling that washes over you when you finally pull that duvet up with a sigh of relief and close your eyes …. ‘Fade To Black’.