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?

Cherbourg to St Quay Portriex

Thursday 14th August 2008
The highlight of the day was me cooking up one of my famous corned beef curries for Daz - the non believer.

1x tin of Corned Beef (ASDA)
2x tin of Chopped Tomatoes (Tesco)
2x Dessert spoons of Madras Curry paste
1x Lrg Tin of Potatoes
3x Portions of Uncle Bens finest boil in the bag rice
If only we had an onion!...
Job done, he is now converted – he’s never had it so good!

We said farewell to our wooden island around 7pm (UK) after the (now not so) cute chick made us pay an extra 10Euros for half a days berthing – bitch!

As Sods Law clearly states, the direction we needed to travel was exactly into wind – we could tack our way slowly but it would be a risk considering the stretch of water we were about to be passing through and the deadlines we needed to meet.

The Alderney Race is the notorious stretch of water between France and the Channel Islands. Tides run through at break neck speeds and if the wind is against the tide it becomes a mess of horrendous rough water. We had timed our arrival to get to the start just off Alderney around HW (Dover) but our approach of over 6 knots over the ground with only 3 knots through the water indicated the tides might be earlier than predicted. If you get the times wrong through here then you are essentially sailing ‘on the spot’ for 6 hours. Luckily, we had got it right and the tide was with us and pushing us through nicely.

The wind was being fickle at around F2-F3 and still just off the direction of travel so we kept the motor running until safely clear of the headland. Then out came the Genoa, its first real trial. We knew the winds were going to be light and had put it on before leaving Cherbourg, good thing to as we made superb progress at between 6-8 knots toward the island of Sark just off of Guernsey, where we would have been struggling with the standard Jib. Its official, Doris is now FAST! – Well for a 35ft yacht anyway.

Clear skies and a super huge bright moon made for a pleasurable sail, but as the night went on it got really cold. For some reason both Daz and I really felt tired on this trip, struggling to stay awake, at one stage I nearly got out the kitchen timer just in case I nodded off as Daz went for an hours sleep below. We would then only awaken to find ourselves washed up on some rocky Channel Island or French shore! Sleep management was always going to be one of my biggest problems especially when sailing with someone who is essentially a complete novice.

Anyways, none of this happened and we made our destination safely about two and a half hours early. One thing I have noted is that the distance covered should be about 90 nm, however, the final log (distance through the water) reads 79.6 nm. Now that’s some good use of tides and explains our good speed – that’s over 10 nm for FREE!

We found our way in to the marina and to our delight the visitors pontoon was both large and an easy mooring alongside. We are barely human by the time we arrive when sailing all night and the berthing needs to be as easy as possible. It always does for that matter, but more so than ever after a night passage!

Just as we got tied up, Francois came flying over in his souped up RIB waving his finger in the air. Non! - We can’t stay on the berth, we are a foot too short! Instead we have to move to the miniscule finger pontoons opposite. Bastard! – Just what we needed. We wrestled Doris into the new berth after some fluffing around with Francois standing there trying not to provide any help. At one stage Daz threw him a line as he was less than 2 meters away, only to watch him thread it through the cleat and throw it straight back – despite the fact that Daz had one leg over the guard rail about to jump on to the pontoon.

In short, the guy was a twat! – Rant over.

For the first time since leaving the UK, we got the hose out as Doris looked like she was covered in white powder there was so much salt on her. I also noticed she has a bit of weed growth on her bottom, so I’ll need to get under there soon.

Time to sleep… ‘fade to black’.
After waking up later in the evening, it was time for a shower and finish up our corned beef curry with a movie.

Marooned in Cherbourg

Wednesday 13th August 2008
After waking up we got (one of the) cute chicks in the dinghy to take us ashore, where we mooched around Cherbourg and I bought some replacement blocks to replace the broken ones. This should at least go some way making the mainsail easier to hoist.

Nothing else to report really as there’s not much you can do while marooned on a pontoon listening to Jack Johnson.

Ouch!...

Daz finds a father figure...

Le Havre To Cherbourg

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!