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’.

St. Quay Portieux to Camaret - Take1

Thursday 21st August 2008
We slipped the lines at Thursday morning around 06:00 and made our way to the fuel pontoon to fill up. All went smoothly without any problems (except me getting splashed with diesel – damn that breather in the cockpit!) and an hour later saw us heading out with smooth seas and wind around F3.

We actually started to struggle for wind and christened the new Genoa pole.

After around 2 hours we reached the beginning of the exposed coastline and the waves were starting to appear as long rolling swell, much bigger than I have ever seen in the Channel around Brighton. As they were rolling they were large but easy enough to sail over. It is quite an experience actually sailing up the face of a wave!

Slowly, the wind started to fill in from the West, exactly the direction from which we needed to go (again!). An hour later saw us under mainsail and reefed Genoa with wind building to F4/F5 with the waves steadily growing to around 3m, we were now about 6nm off course (out to sea) due to the direction of the wind. While conditions were a little scary to start with (inexperience showing), we were in no danger, accept of being uncomfortable and not actually enjoying the sail.

The conditions meant that the boat speed had to be minimised to prevent actually shooting off the top of the waves which resulted in very loud and scary ‘slams’ that juddered throughout the entire boat. My biggest worry was of losing the mast, again with the Steve (The Rigging Guy’s) words repeating in my head – ‘The Rig looks a bit loose’. I had to manually helm the boat to avoid the waves and this was very tiring concentrating for hours on end. The steep seas were a result (I’m guessing) of the westerly wind against the strong west going French tide, a classic dangerous scenario.

We continued for another 40nm before making the reluctant decision (after 2 hrs of discussions) to turn back. One of the problems with this stretch of coast is that there are no 24hr ‘Port of Refuges’ between St. Quay Portrieux and L’Aber Wbrach (only approx 20nm short of Camaret our intended destination) and what harbours there are, are drying and not accessible during all states of the tide and a nightmare to navigate to in the dark being surrounded by rocks etc. While, we were not in danger I felt that I wouldn’t be able to sustain 24 hours of helming especially in the dark, in addition I had not been able to leave the helm to go to the toilet and eat etc.. The boat was more capable than its crew.

The journey home was equally as uncomfortable as the waves were now from directly behind but at least the boat was no longer ‘slamming’.

We were regularly surfing over 10 knots down (see top left on pic below) the wave faces with the highest speed being seen at over 13 knots!

Again manual helming was required and by now I was quite tired and it was just starting to get dark. For some reason in the pics and video the sea state looks calm and the waves look tiny - Yeah right! You had to be there!

Eventually we got back around the headland where the waves subsided and the motor went on. I also had the chance to get some Corned Beef Curry down my neck and hand over the helm to Daz for a while. Somewhere along the way we lost the portside nav-light, so I continued to motor using the tricolour instead. I know this is against the ColRegs but I thought it better to be seen from all sides as a sailing vessel than not be seen at all as a vessel under motor from the portside. Of course any real skipper would have spare emergency nav-lights.

We finally got back to St. Quay Portrieux at around 5am only to find it completely full, with our only option to moor ‘alongside’ a massive yacht in the main marina entrance. Finally tied up we crashed, however, it was very difficult to sleep with the wash from the boats (including the fishing boats) coming and going directly past us.

In conclusion, we had just clocked up over 100nm and not got any further forward, mainly due to the weather forecast being wrong, although to be fair, at no point did we have overly strongwinds, just a horrible sea state. I did however learn a lot about rough weather sailing. The only way to get comfortable with and learn how to cope with and handle heavy weather is to get out there and witness it, preferably in someone else’s boat!

Another point is that all the books teach you about ‘Heaving to’ and using ‘Storm Tactics’ but these do not apply when you simply do not have the sea room or time to simply sit and wait for conditions to improve such as when coastal sailing. The northern French coast has tides that run like trains and it becomes priority to simply ‘get somewhere’.

Boredom In St. Quay Portrieux

Another post mostly out of boredom to be honest...

The weather is now clearing and with 24 hours to allow the sea state to drop, we should be on our way tomorrow morning (05:00 UTC) Boat Time (06:00am U.K.). Our Planned Route is HERE and should take around 30 hours being our longest leg yet - assuming we get there of course!

I may decide to take the 'Chenal Du Four' that cuts inside the Island of Ushant if the tides line up with our progress as this will save us 4 hours, but its not a passage I'm keen on doing in bad conditions, prefering to take on the Ushant Shipping and Atlantic swells ... Like the Alderney Race, the tides are evil and its Spring Tides. Todays HW was 12 metres!!!

We was going to leave today but the sea state has been reported as 'Very Rough' and 'High' around the point of Brittany with wave sizes as 3m - 5m - Sod that! Also, while the wind is about F5, its gusting to F7 constantly... Besides Kat would only 'have a word' if we went for it!

Before heading into rough seas I need Kat to lend me her 'Sea Survival' course notes so I'm all prepared...

Highlights of the day - Dire Straits albums, chocolate and a shower!

French Lessons In Mooring

While waiting for bad weather to pass I have had a large amount of time to simply sit in the cockpit, enjoy the sun (what little we have had) and generally watch the world go by. In particular, I have had ample opportunity to learn from others mooring techniques. The most influential and educational by far is that of the French.

Most people in the boating world know that it’s usually fear of ‘failure’ that causes you to get nervous and inevitably mess up a mooring attempt. The French however, have no concept of ‘fear’, in each case approaching the pontoon at speeds I am generally more than happy sailing at. With one hand on the tiller (the other is used for smoking) and wife (or lover, they are French remember) standing on the coach roof ‘watching’, the pontoon gets rapidly closer.

As the pontoon gets to within a boat length away the turn is made by throwing the tiller (always a tiller, never a wheel) hard over at the last possible second and then applying ‘full speed astern’, kind of like a hand-break turn for boats!

Now with the boat generally stopped (but drifting) in the vicinity of the pontoon, the ‘other half’ generally continues to either remain standing on the coach roof or jump down (if close enough) with a single hand on the guard rails. It is only now that the skipper starts looking around for a piece of rope that might be used to fasten the boat to the berth.

Another major discovery I have made is that French boats must have stronger or more durable gelcoat than us British folk. It is a national embarrassment for any Frenchman to use more than two fenders at any one time during a mooring, furthermore, only lesser skippers put these out before attempting to berth. Real sailors only apply fenders after the boat has been tied up! There are also bonus points for using the smallest fenders available on the market.

To conclude, all those people contemplating RYA courses etc. take note. Your money will probably be better spent on something else. While I was trained the RYA way (Comp Crew & Day Skipper) and learned to get all my ropes ready before getting anywhere near the berth and placing adequate fenders both sides of the boat at adequate heights and having ‘crew’ standing at the shrouds ready to ‘make fast’ with military precision and coordination, all this does is make a ‘big deal’ out of mooring and after aquiring my new ‘speed lines’ down my bow, maybe its time for a change?

Simply, point the boat at the space (assuming the space looks about big enough) and as long as the bow gets more than a foot into the space it will all come good. On no account look as if you are nervous or care about damaging the boat or even making the berth. In fact, the expression you need to master is that of boredom.

Lastly, forget everything you know about wind and tide as both these can be simply overcome with speed!

Now … am I brave enough myself to try it – maybe you have to be French?