A Coruña to Porto – more Spanish rías

I had already gained a sense of the Spanish rías when Neil, Clare and myself looked into several on the north coast, east of A Coruña. Some of the best known, though, are on the north west tip of Galicia, and they became the focus of the final part of this summer’s cruise.

Having been back in UK for a couple of weeks generally catching up, Jonty and I returned to Sada marina near A Coruña to find Spellbinder sitting waiting for us, unharmed by the quite swelly conditions to which the marina is prone. Having done a big shop, we headed out to anchor for the night off Ares – a small town with a beach, which gave us a swell-free night and a stroll along the beach and into town.

We bought a large leg of Serrano ham, and carved meat off it for the next 10 days
Grapefruit tree, Ares

The next morning we headed into A Coruña itself, berthing in the Real Club Nautico. From there it was a short walk across into town. We wanted to visit the grave of Sir John Moore, a British general who had died while commanding British troops retreating from there in 1809. Sadly the gardens where he lies were shut.

Central square, A Coruña

Alastair and Caspar arrived that evening, and we enjoyed some fine tapas in the back streets of A Coruña, before setting off westwards the next morning, into an increasing wind which allowed us to sail at first. We anchored for a brief lunch at the Sisargas islands.

Sailing past the Tower of Hercules, the large lighthouse outside A Coruña. It is the oldest known extant lighthouse
Anchored in the Sisargas islands, which are almost Hebridean in nature

The wind turned on our nose and increased, heralding some expected poor weather, and after a few hours of bumpy motor sailing we came into the Ría de Camiñaras, finding a delightful anchorage just near Muxia marina, where we hunkered down for the night. The following morning we strolled into town in the drizzle, meeting some young people who had walked from France on the Camino de Santiago, arriving at Santiago de Compostela but wanting to finish their walk by the ocean, visiting the chapel which dominates the entrance to the ría.

The fine anchorage at Muxia. Spellbinder in the background
Overlooking Muxia marina

In the afternoon, with clearing weather, we toured a couple of anchorages in this very unspoilt ría, which in many ways was my favourite.

Above and below: east and south of Muxia. Anchorages which we had to ourselves

That evening we headed into Camariñas marina, a slightly dilapidated place. We enjoyed wandering along the quay to see the fishermen unload sardines, and then ate some nice food in town.

The local catch of sardines
Sunset at Camariñas

Next was Muros. We had a pleasant sail around into this nice ría, passing Cape Finisterre (Cabo Finisterre), a somewhat notorious headland on the tip of NW Spain. We were still getting reports of orca attacks in the vicinity, but stayed quite close to shore and mercifully were not approached.

Pedro, the delightfully efficient harbourmaster at Muros checked us in. We then enjoyed a stroll around the old town and harbour front in the evening and the following morning.

Muros, above and below

The next ría south, Arousa, was noticeably more built up: this became increasingly the case as we headed down the coast. We had a great sail down, accompanied by dolphins as we approached downwind, then tacking gently into the ría to find an isolated anchorage for the night in its upper reaches. That night we had a fine BBQ.

Off Arousa
A midday beer, while reaching fast down the Spanish coast under cruising chute
‘Vivieros’ abound in Arousa: mussel farms and other forms of marine industry. Happily you can sail through them

After a night at anchor we left downwind and threaded our way past off lying islands (Ons and Cíes) towards Baiona, enjoying light airs but finally motoring. We had a brief stop to anchor and swim off the beach at Panjón before heading into the Real Club Baiona, to be met by two very smart uniformed marinieros. It is a fabulously situated club, sitting below a citadel and commanding great views. We strolled around the battlements and into town before heading to the club for one of their famous G&Ts.

Under the citadel at Baiona. It is here to where Columbus returned with news of lands to the west
Enjoying a drink at the Real Club Baiona

We had anticipated eating at the Club but sadly found the service so poor that we headed into town. It’s a pity, as the club has a good reputation. In my experience the one at Gijon was far, far nicer and better run.

Baiona nightlife
Eating rather odd goose neck barnacles. I found them utterly disgusting, sadly, both in taste and texture

We slipped Baiona early the next morning for the long passage down to Porto, having occasionally excellent periods of reaching in offshore winds, but finally motoring in calm seas.

Racing south in a fine wind and a flat sea
More beer at lunchtime I’m afraid

It was a long day sail, ending in a few hours of motoring as the wind died. Our destination was Leixões, the main industrial harbour for Porto and a couple of miles north of the mouth of the river Douro. I chose it as the marina in the Douro is notorious for swell, being more open, and I wanted to find somewhere more secure to leave Spellbinder for a few weeks. We arrived in the early evening, settling down for the night on the reception pontoon.

Leixões is a container and fishing port – not the prettiest in the world, and with seagulls of all types absolutely everywhere

The main event the next day, sadly, was to watch the Queen’s state funeral. I had been wearing my ensign at half mast for the previous few days, following protocol, so it was all very much on our minds. We set up the laptop and watched the extraordinary event on the BBC, not without emotion.

Watching the state funeral while in Leixões. Our country at its best, for our best

Once the Westminster part of the occasion was over, we needed a change of scene and so grabbed a taxi into Porto, walking up and down its streets, hiking up to the cathedral at the top and generally taking in the views. I had never been before and found the place intriguing; the river cuts through and the city is built in a ravine.

The view from Porto cathedral, with the river Douro running through below
Typical Porto streets
Looking down to the river
One of the cathedral’s ceilings

Back on board, Jonty cooked us mussels before we retired for the night. The next day was about admin: cleaning up Spellbinder, carrying out some minor repairs, and doing a deal with the marina to keep Spellbinder there until the end of next month. They were most amenable and keen to do business.

We took a break from all of this to take Spellbinder round into the Douro to see Porto from the river, which is the best way really.

Approaching central Porto, with the famous Ribeira on the left
Ribeira, closer up. Evidence of the port wine trade is everywhere

We had booked a port tasting at Cockburn’s wine lodge in the cool of the evening, and headed there when our work on Spellbinder was complete. We much enjoyed the tour, learning a great deal about the history of port wine making, the way the wine was transported great distances down the Douro river, and how Porto as a city thrived as a result, as well as the English influence.

Cockburn’s has the largest of the port wine warehouses
Kept very secure is their oldest vintage bottle – from the early 19th century, and priceless
Of these, I think we agreed the LBV was the best. We went on to taste the 2011 vintage, one of their best ever

After the tasting, which was most refreshing, we headed down into Porto and enjoyed the city by night, eating at a good meat restaurant and enjoying the sights and sounds.

Above and below – Porto by night

And so ended the summer cruise. I have logged 2397 miles this season, and the changing continental coastline has been a pleasure to sail down. I have much enjoyed the contrasts between five countries: the Dutch canals, the bleak Belgian coastline, the beautiful faces of Normandy and North and South Brittany, the Vendée and Gascony, the brutal but stunning north coast of Spain, the wonderful rías of Galicia and finally northern Portugal. Thank you, this time, to Alastair, Caspar and Jonty for accompanying me on this last bit, but more broadly a heartfelt thanks to all my other friends and family who have crewed for me this year. It has been great fun.

August 2022 – The North Coast of Spain

Having had a few days meeting up with friends in Armagnac and Cognac country (thank you François and Bérénice, and Neil and Linda for your fine hospitality), and having stocked up accordingly, I dropped my hire car off at Bordeaux airport and met my new crew, Neil and Clare. We returned to Port Médoc by travelling up the marvellous railway line which takes you up the left bank, past stations like Margaux and Pauillac, and got ready for a 24 hour overnight passage to the French – Spanish border.

I had originally planned to cut the corner of Biscay to Gijon, but a strong westerly airflow meant that we had to head pretty much due south, leaving the likes of Bayonne and Biarritz to port. We had a good passage, in brisk winds, close reaching all the way with a fine, moonlit night.

Clare enjoying the passage south. The new seats are getting much use
Heading south at sunset

With the Pyrenees appearing in the dawn mist, we arrived at Hondarribia, situated on a river which is shared with the French town Hendaye. I love France, but having spent a fair few weeks reacquainting myself with it, I opted to go to the Spanish side. It is also in the Basque semi-autonomous region, with the locals keen to express their sense of independence, and Basque flags flying everywhere.

The Basque flag…
…also flying on Spellbinder’s starboard spreaders, below the Spanish one, as a courtesy flag

Unlike French marinas, Spanish ones always insist on seeing your ship’s documents, insurance details and crew passports. Such formalities complete, we took a well-earned siesta, having just sailed through the night and being a little short of sleep. Adapting to Spanish cultural rhythm was easy – get up late, do something, enjoy a good lunch, have a siesta, do something else, then don’t think about going out until at least 9 or 10pm.

Heading into the old town, Hondarribia

We enjoyed a fabulous first evening, sitting on the main drag of the old town, watching the Spanish promenade up and down and enjoying tapas.

Next stop was San Sebastián. Everybody had told us to go there, and we weren’t disappointed. It’s a magnificent old town, with a big scallop-shaped beach rightly called La Concha and a large statue of Jesus overlooking everything from the top of a castle, perched on the hill above. It is also well known for its gastronomy, which we enjoyed hugely. We had to sit out a couple of days of bad weather here, but what a great place to do so. It was also festival time, which meant nightly fireworks and loud music, which went on late – until 7am, then restarting for breakfast. We didn’t sleep particularly well, but somehow it didn’t matter.

When sailing this challenging coast, best to keep this man on your side. He keeps an eye on San Sebastián
The wonderful La Concha beach
Preparing to taste the local slightly fizzy white wine, Txakoli. I’ve tasted better to be honest
Wonderful seafood in the underground market
…and charcuterie
Pulpo’, as recommended by my cousin Phoebe
Typical Basque fare

We strolled around the town, took in the cultural activities, visited museums and did some boat jobs and laundry while we waited for the weather to pass. We were squeezed into a tiny berth in a little harbour and felt very snug as it poured with rain, with near gale force winds.

San Sebastián harbour (above and below)
Spellbinder in the centre. We moved her around to be bow onto the weather before it arrived
Baroque church, San Sebastián
Nightly fireworks

Once the weather had passed over, we left San Sebastián rather reluctantly, having enjoyed it hugely. Heading out into some considerable swell, our next destination was Castro Urdiales, a beautiful town with a church and castle which overlooks the harbour. We arrived at the same time as a yacht race, and anchored in the harbour. A very efficient water taxi service took us to the yacht club, where we checked in and explored the town.

The harbour at Castro Urdiales, dominated by its castle and church
Close up of the church
View from the other direction

Castro Urdiales was a lovely stop – a vibrant town with a lively yacht club. We would probably have spent an extra day there, but given that we had lost a day decided to head on to Santander.

The coast of northern Spain is not that easy from a yachtsman’s perspective, as it is subject to northerly swell with many of the harbours of refuge having quite narrow entrances. There are also not that many anchorages. One exception is Santander, which is wide and straightforward, with a choice of anchorages which enable you to visit the city (the marina is some distance from it). We initially anchored off a beach, then headed further upriver to anchor off the city centre and its cathedral and to buy supplies.

Diving statues at Santander
Rocky cliffs off Santander at sunset

We headed back to the beach anchorage for an evening walk and a quiet evening. Our walk took us past a sea life park, with penguins, sea lions and seals held captive beside the sea – a slightly sorry and somewhat old-fashioned sight, to be honest.

Ribadesella, our next stop, was challenging. The coastline was changing though, and we were beginning to see the Picos De Europa, a small but beautiful chain of mountains which dominate the skyline. Ribadesella involved coming in between breakers and a beach to starboard, and a harbour wall to port. We negotiated it without difficulty, thankfully, and tied up in the marina to enjoy the views.

On the pontoon at Ribadesella, with the Picos behind
Ribadesella entrance from the beach

After a fruity swim amongst the breakers, we enjoyed the town and its buildings, and had a slightly indifferent meal out, with Neil and Clare somewhat regretting their copious bean stew, and me my voluminous veal steak, having tried to go with local recommendations. The following morning we had to wait for the tide to depart, and I had a plumbing job to fix (poor water pressure). While I changed the fresh water pump and filter, Neil and Clare enjoyed a walk which brought them some great views.

Ribadesella from above

The next morning we headed out and round to continue our journey west. We wanted to visit Ria de Villaviciosa, as it was well reported, and found a narrow entrance with considerable swell on one side, and rocks on the other. It was slightly unnerving but once in, we anchored in a deep pool and had lunch and watched the world go by. There was not much world going by.

Heading out of Ria de Villaviciosa. The entrance is quite narrow – between the rocks on the left and the breakers on the right

Gijon was our destination, a large port and town with a sizeable marina. We arrived quite late, but wandered into town and had a wonderful drink at the yacht club, which overlooks the town. It took a little while to get admitted but in the end our credentials were deemed sufficient and we were allowed in. It’s a great club, full of tradition and with excellent service. The main area outside is shaded by wonderful old tamarisk trees.

The slightly challenging ‘Eulogy to the Horizon’ monument at Gijon. Good daymark though…
Tamarisk canopy, Gijon Royal Yacht Club
Enjoying the Club. Felt quite at home…

After Gijon we left on our journey, aiming for Puerto Cudillero for lunch. It was another narrow entrance, which turns sharply to starboard, but by now the swell had attenuated and it posed no problems. There was a slightly odd buoy arrangement, which we never really worked out, but we attached ourselves for the purposes of lunch and enjoyed the sight of a vertiginous town tumbling down to the harbour. We wished we had more time to explore.

Coming into Puerto Cudillero

Ribadeo was our destination for the night – a wide river entrance, where you come in under a tall bridge and moor up in the marina. We arrived quite late again, but had time to stroll up the steep streets into the town for a drink. We enjoyed it, but felt perhaps that it was more a means to an end.

The winds were light the next day, and clouds and drizzle had arrived. This part of Spain is very green, and quite unlike the rest of the country. We could see why. We nudged into Viviero, a grand ria which is apparently quite impressive to enter, but we saw little of it in the mist. The pilot book and guides rather big it up – perhaps with reason – but as we anchored off the beach for lunch, and explored the entrance to the marina, we were less than impressed. I will need to go back another time.

Cedeira, on the other hand, we enjoyed. A big wide ria, it narrows then widens again, revealing a large anchorage and a pleasant town, which we enjoyed taking the dinghy into. We found a great bar, met some locals, and even came across another British yacht – the first since La Rochelle! Perhaps it was a bit late in the season; perhaps it’s a consequence of Brexit; perhaps it’s too challenging a coast to cruise.

Visiting Cedeira, with the anchorage behind
Enjoying a local bar
A fine sight while having a cooked breakfast

Our final leg was to A Coruna. After a bit of a lie-in, and a proper cooked breakfast (we needed to use up food) we departed into a light following wind, which was a bit tedious, but in a while we had a better angle on the wind, which had increased. We then had one of our best sails of this leg, with the added bonus of lots of dolphins accompanying us.

Clearing skies, and cloud rolling off the land – a typical sight on this coast
One of many dolphins which came to play

On arrival at A Coruna, we berthed with some difficulty in breezy conditions, and then prepared to leave Spellbinder, cleaning up a bit. We strolled locally and I chatted to a French sailor who had had both his rudders chewed off by orcas. This has become a real problem on this coast, only materialising over the last couple of years. Several dozen yachts have suffered damage, and one has been sunk. I hesitate to say that they were ‘attacked’, as it is thought (a view shared by the French sailor) that these are playful ‘interactions’, albeit with harmful consequences. There is debate and argument about precautionary and deterrent measures – they are a protected species – but the advice to lower sails and do nothing clearly doesn’t work. Spellbinder, if approached, will try and take a more proactive approach, while not harming the animals.

Rudder damage caused by orcas – and a French sailor’s cruising plans put on hold

Our last evening was an enjoyable one in a local restaurant. Thank you, Neil and Clare, for being such great sailing companions. It was a memorable cruise.

I plan to return to Spellbinder in September, for a trip towards Portugal. Orcas willing.

Gosport to the Gironde

The mini refit behind us, it was time for Jonty and I to take Spellbinder on the next stage of her travels – down to the south-west Atlantic coast of France. We had a steady start, anchoring in Newtown Creek on the Isle of Wight for the night before taking the tide across the Channel to Guernsey, where we anchored behind the Castle in Havelet Bay (so much less faff than going into the marina) and picked up some more fuel, at a most amenable price, from the fuel pontoon in St Peter Port. The crossing had been the first proper outing for the new cruising chute, which has been a joy to use; it is cut a bit higher, improving visibility and performance on a close reach.

The new cruising chute in action
Jonty at the helm (complete with new hat). I must have just told him a good joke

After Guernsey we had a quiet sail over to Roscoff, where we checked in with the authorities (a European electronic visa system needs to come soon, as it will make life so much easier for British yachtsmen) and picked up Belle, who had come over on the ferry from Plymouth, and who was to accompany us for the next week or so. We strolled around Roscoff, and had a fine lunch, listening to the local Breton singers.

Breton singers, Roscoff
A café gourmand and other fine delights to finish off an excellent lunch in Roscoff

We left on the tide, aiming to head west towards the tip of north-west France. We negotiated the narrow channel between Roscoff and the Ile de Batz before heading out along the coast. Belle had a bit of a severe introduction to yachting, as we found ourselves motor sailing into quite a swell and it was all quite a roller coaster of a ride. She remained very stoic though, and a few hours later we arrived in L’Aber Wrac’h, a river well known to British yachtsmen as it is a useful staging post. We picked up a buoy to recover and waited a day or so to let the swell die down, before heading round to another river, L’Aber Benoît, for the night.

Leaving L’Aber Wrac’h, having waited out some breezy weather
A rock marking the port hand side of the entrance channel to L’Aber Benoît

It was a dawn start the next day to head down through the notorious Chenal du Four and Raz de Sein – notorious in the sense that in poor conditions, or when tides are misjudged, they can be very dangerous. The weather had abated though, and we had a relatively easy passage through, even stopping for a couple of hours to have lunch at anchor off the Ile de Sein, a beautiful island which I had not had time to visit on previous trips.

Heading round the north-west tip of France at dawn
At anchor at the Ile de Sein, in its little harbour, and (below) round the corner off a beach

Once through the Raz de Sein we made for Audierne, where getting to the marina involves heading up a fairly narrow river which is subject to the tides and can present a challenge depth-wise. Once in, however, you are right in the centre of town, where there is an excellent poissonerie and patisserie adjacent to each other all of 50 yards from your berth. We took advantage of both.

In the hustle and bustle of Audierne
… and taking advantage of the poissonerie

The following morning we headed round the Pointe de Penmarc’h, south of which it always seems to me that southern Brittany starts, and better weather begins. After passing the Pointe, we benefited from lovely northerly winds, propelling us gently down the French coast, all the way to the Gironde, much of it under cruising chute.

Our initial destination was Port La Forêt, where Sue arrived from Paris by train. It was lovely to meet up with old friends Yves and Claire, who helped by picking Sue up from the station and by treating us to a fine dinner at their house.

Thank you Yves and Claire for your hospitality and help

The following morning we left early while we still had tide, anchoring off in the bay before heading to Port Manec’h, another place I had not been to. We explored the Belon River (known for its peculiar oysters and restaurant ‘Chez Jacky’) before anchoring off Manec’h, strolling along the coast and meeting up with friends Peter and Janet in their very similar Hallberg Rassy.

Exploring the Belon river
Thank you for the drinks and nibbles, Peter and Janet. Delighted to be able to bring ice
The coast south-west of Port Manec’h

The next morning we had another rendezvous with yacht-owning friends, this time off Doëlan, where Jeremy and Debbie rafted alongside us for an enjoyable lunch. Their new Amel 50 Swyn y Mor is superb, and they have equipped and prepared her beautifully for what they hope is a circumnavigation. As I write this they are well on their way from Brest to Madeira.

Thank you Jeremy and Debbie for a most enjoyable meet on your lovely yacht ‘Swyn y Mor’. Breton tops in evidence…

After Doëlan we went island hopping – Houat, Ile d’Yeu and Ile de Ré. They are all lovely in their own way. Houat has a lovely beach to anchor off, and is small and accessible to walk around. We met up with RCC friends David and Jill, and Peter and Sandy, who were anchored near us. Yeu is a bit bigger than Houat, but can be easily cycled around in a day. It is wild in places, with lovely beaches and forests. We went into Port Joinville for a couple of nights, meeting more RCC friends William and Susannah on their Hylas 46 Hero, and we biked and walked, spending a final night at anchor off the beach at Anse des Vieilles on the south side. At Yeu we said goodbye to Belle and Jonty.

After a brief stop at Les Sablons d’Olonne, where we picked up Tom, we headed to Ile de Ré. It is larger still, with some amazing and beautiful harbours and villages, Italianate and Mediterranean in parts, and at this time of year heaving with Parisians, as it is joined to the mainland by a bridge. We enjoyed each island in different ways, and I’ll let the photos do the talking.

An evening walk on the beach at Houat. My generation is apparently pretty useless at selfies
Sunset over the main port at Houat
Interesting war memorial, Houat
A deserted beach at Houat
We were joined briefly on passage by what we think was an oliveaceous warbler, which eschewed our bread but hitched a lift for a while
Hiring bikes on the Ile d’Yeu. It’s a great island to cycle around.
At Yeu we went into Port Joinville, and on our bike trip visited the grave of Maréchal Philippe Petain. A knowledge of his life, and what he did in both world wars, is key to understanding French 20th century history
The church at Joinville
Berthed in the beautiful port of Saint-Martin-de-Ré
Sunset off the Vauban battlements, Saint-Martin
A somewhat crowded harbour basin
The view from the clock tower – you can see pretty much the whole island
Salt marshes, Ile de Ré
Cycling past vineyards, Ile de Ré

If you have young children, and want to turn them into French ones, just come here

Dinner with Andrew, a Brit who keeps his yacht in Saint Martin. Thank you Andrew for all your advice and help

After Ré we sailed under the bridge linking the island to the mainland, heading into La Rochelle. I had wanted to berth in the Vieux Port, but it was a bit crowded when we went in, so we opted for the huge Minimes marina, taking the solar-powered vedettes up the river and back. We also met our French friends Arnaud and Géraldine, who came with two of their sons for a cup of tea.

Heading into the Vieux Port, La Rochelle
Good to see Arnaud and Géraldine and their sons

We had an early start from La Rochelle, to catch the tide down past the Ile d’Oléron and into the Gironde estuary. It was a fantastic eight hour sail, using a variety of sail combinations and using the engine just at the beginning and end. We found our way into Port Médoc, just at the mouth of the estuary, where Spellbinder will remain for a few days, as Sue and Tom fly back, and before Neil and Clare arrive. Here we have been royally looked after by old French friends Christophe and Virginie, and their daughter and grandchildren.

Good to see my old friend Christophe on board, with his grandson Paul
Christophe took us wine tasting at Chateau Balac, Haut Médoc
..after which
…the results were predictable, and Spellbinder has a new yacht red
Thank you Christophe and Virginie. It was lovely to see you, your house, your daughter and grandchildren. Thank you for showing us the lovely area where you live

It was a great passage down the French west coast. Now for Spain…

Mini Re-fit July 2022

The last time Spellbinder was lifted out of the water was in 2017 – 5 years ago. Since then, I have regularly dried her out between tides to clean her hull with a pressure washer, to change the prop anodes and service the prop – all that has been required, given I have Coppercoat long-lasting epoxy anti foul applied. There have been a number of small jobs accumulating though, and I took the opportunity in July – when boatyards are usually at their quietest – to get them done. I did this at Hornet Services Sailing Club, using the services of the excellent shipwright Barry. This is a bit of a yacht owner’s post, and less about my travels, but please forgive the indulgence!

The first job was to change the anchor chain. Over time, it loses its galvanised surface and as it lies in an invariably wet and salty locker can begin to corrode. Mine was original (2006) and had seen a lot of action, and it was probably ok, but the part which spends most of its life at the bottom of the locker was getting distinctly rusty. I spend a lot of time at anchor and so didn’t want to trust my and Spellbinder’s existence to it, so after some research I found a 75m lot of new 8mm chain which I used to replace the old, with new shackles duly moused on (this means securing the shackle pin with wire to stop it unscrewing), and the chain marked at 10m intervals with luminous para cord.

75 metres of new galvanised 8mm anchor chain
Shackles in place and moused on, chain marked and ready to go

Next Barry started to repair some minor scratches and dents in the gel coat, which had accumulated over the years and which needed attention. First the bow, where occasionaly the anchor had swung down and nicked the hull. Once the gel coat was repaired, 5 new layers of Coppercoat were applied – it starts its life copper brown, but in contact with seawater gradually turns green.

Re[airs to the bow complete

Next was the keel. Crew members Alan and Neil will remember a sandbank in Martinique which Spellbinder settled on for a while, owing to her skipper’s momentary navigational ineptitude. While it was not a serious grounding, we did scrape off some of the Coppercoat while getting off the sandbank, and there has as a consequence always been a bit more fouling there. Barry fared off the bottom of the keel, made repairs and reapplied the anti foul.

The keel duly repaired

Next was the rudder. Crew David, Johnny and Lucy may recall a wall in Nelson’s dockyard Antigua, to which we were moored stern to in 2018. There was a lip which crunched a small bit of the rudder – nothing serious, but a small repair was needed.

Rudder repair

The next job for Barry was a bit of the toe rail, which I managed to bash in windy conditions at the sea lock at IJmuiden earlier this summer. It was a bit unsightly but this was small task for the traditional shipwright, gluing in a small teak off cut and faring it to blend in with the remaining toe rail. He did a beautiful job.

Teak toe rail repair

The final one for Barry was to replace the stern seal. This is a rubber flange which prevents water ingress where the prop shaft leaves the hull. Mine was several years old, and in theory – particularly if your engine prop is slightly misaligned – they can wear and need replacement. I did have a spare on board from the previous owner’s time, but we discovered it was the wrong size and so a new one was bought and installed.

New Volvo shaft seal in place

Once done. it was time for the lift back, and Spellbinder’s onward travels.

While this work was going on, I had set in place two new items for replacement. Firstly, Kemps sailmakers have made me a replacement cruising chute to replace my old one. Using the old furler, they made it in bright orange, which is great for other vessels to see from far off, and also gives the teak a pleasing glow in sunlight, which I had not expected. We trialed it crossing the Channel this week, and it is excellent. Slightly higher cut than its predecessor, it handles easily and is a joy to sail with.

New cruising chute from Kemps sailmakers, Wareham

I have also treated myself to new cockpit cushions. The old ones rubbed against the wheel, and were grubby and losing their springiness. Comfort Afloat in Gosport made me new ones, with cut outs for the wheel and piped in grey against dark blue. I’m pleased with them. I have also purchased two seats, inspired by my ocean-crossing mentees Charles and Caroline, who have them in their yacht Caris. My crew should be more comfortable henceforth. Eagle-eyed regular crew will also spot that I have finally solved my mug-holding dilemma, and have found just the thing on Amazon for the compass pedestal.

Spellbinder is now on Phase 2 of her summer travels, heading to Southern Brittany and a leisurely cruise down to La Rochelle, Bordeaux and the Spanish coast.

Northern Brittany June 2022

In the last couple of weeks I have been lucky enough to take part in my yacht club’s cruise of Northern Brittany, from Trébeurden to Saint Malo. We had about 90 members spread across about 25 yachts, and had some very good sailing and a very sociable time. Crew for this period were Johnny and Lucy, and we were joined by François for a couple of days in the middle, and son Jonty at the end.

After welcome drinks and a dinner at Trébeurden, we lost a day of exploring the local islands to bad weather, but made the most of it by walking in the surrounding hills and hiring electric bikes, some of us getting a bit wet. Once the poor weather had passed, we headed out to a quiet anchorage in calm weather in Lannion Bay.

Anchored in Lannion Bay at sunset, next door to Speedwell of Cremyll

The next day we sailed to Tréguier, enjoying a fine beat along the coast, nipping back out from time to time into the Channel to avoid the rocks, until we entered the long river which winds its way down inland. It is a pretty tidal place, and you ideally need to arrive at slack water to make mooring easier.

Lucy enjoying helming
Sailing down the Tréguier river, with another club yacht ahead
The fleet moored in Tréguier river. François joined us here

Once moored, we explored the beautiful town with its Cathedral and market square, and went on organised visits of the local Kerdalo gardens and beautiful Chateau de Roche Jagu, where we had a drinks party.

Tréguier
Kerdalo gardens, currently being restored. Many of the original plants came from gardens in the south and south west of UK
Chateau de la Roche Jagu

After Tréguier we headed out to the Ile de Bréhat, anchoring for lunch at the north west end of the island (La Corderie) before heading down the Kerpont Channel to La Chambre, on the south side, from where we enjoyed a long walk around the beautiful island.

Photos from the Ile de Bréhat

We much enjoyed strolling around the island on what was a beautiful day. Like Sark, it has no cars and so is peaceful and seemingly far removed from the mainland.

The next day we undertook a timed passage to Fort la Latte, aiming to win on handicap. Sadly, like many of the competitors, we left too late, having aimed to make the most of stronger winds and fairer tides forecast for later in the morning, with the former not appearing. We arrived 15 minutes after the cut off time, but anchored briefly below the castle to drop off François before heading into Saint Cast. We had planned a group picnic in the castle grounds but sadly the conditions to anchor became untenable.

Anchored below Fort la Latte
Looking up to the castle

After a breezy and somewhat bumpy night on the outside visitors’ pontoon of Saint Cast, we headed over to the Ile de Hébihens for a generous party at the house of one of our French Members. The views were delightful, and we were royally hosted, as I hope the photographs show.

Ile de Hébihens – great place for a party, with Spellbinder anchored in the background
The view from the nearby Vauban fort

The final part of the cruise took us to Saint Malo, where we dressed overall to mark the end of the French part of the cruise, and headed out to another French Member’s house to drinks, then a final dinner in a local restaurant.

Spellbinder and some of the fleet dressed overall in Bassin Vauban, below the ramparts of Saint Malo
Saint Malo by night
Views from the ramparts

Jonty came on the ferry from Portsmouth for the final festivities, and Johnny and Lucy left on the morning ferry after them. We had a final invitation to take up from other French friends who invited us to their house overlooking the Rance to play boules, which ended up being very competitive!

Pétanque
with careful adjudication

Having checked out with the French border police the previous day, Jonty and I headed through the Saint Malo lock the next morning, flying the Parasailor in light tail winds all the way to Guernsey, where we had a final dinner with Members for heading back to UK.

Locking out of Saint Malo at dawn
Good to be flying the Parasailor again
Back home. The passage from Guernsey to southern UK, if you leave at the right time, is a swift one ably helped by the tides pushing you out of the Race of Alderney, and allowing you to fetch a fair tide into the Solent

We had a fine time in Southern Brittany. Thank you Johnny and Lucy, and François for being such delightful crew and for coping with various plumbing issues which rendered life a bit complicated at times! Spellbinder is now having some work done to her, and getting a new cruising chute and cockpit cushions before heading off to Southern Brittany later in July.

Zeebrugge to Trébeurden

The last couple of weeks has seen Spellbinder go from one rally to another, progressing down the Continental coast from Belgium to Brittany.

The first rally was that of the Hallberg Rassy Owners’ Association (HROA), of which I have the honour of being Vice-Commodore. The HROA fleet had left a few days before, and I motored round from Vlissingen to Zeebrugge to meet them as they arrived. We were almost 20 yachts, of various sizes, and while I was sorry not to join them for the their onward rally up the Dutch canals (whence I had come) I had an enjoyable 48 hours with them, hosting a pontoon party along with the Dutch and Belgian equivalent organisation (HR Connectie) and then partaking in the welcome dinner at the Royal Belgian Sailing Club.

The HROA fleet gathering at Zeebrugge. Spellbinder is dressed overall as it was the HM’s Official Birthday

An early morning start was then called for to catch the tide down to Dunkirk, where I was to meet my next crew Crispin. It was a bit bumpy, but I was leaving the port at around 5am when the sun rose.

Leaving Zeebrugge at dawn

It was a bit of a motor, but a few hours later I entered Dunkirk – another first for me. Having changed my courtesy flag from Belgium to France I tied up at the Yacht Club Mer du Nord, and started to re-acquaint myself with French food.

Moules frites in Dunkirk

Crispin arrived later that evening, having taken the Eurostar to Lille and a local train, and we set off to have dinner and to explore Dunkirk. It clearly suffered during the war but some key buildings survived or were re-built. It is not the prettiest of places though, and had the sense to me of a bit of a French outpost.

The ornate Hotel de Ville at Dunkirk

A rather splendid depiction of this year’s Tour de France route

We ate well, and retired early as we had a 30 hour passage ahead of ourselves, crossing the Baie de Seine to Cherbourg. Up at 0400, we had a good sail initially past Calais and Boulogne but the wind died, as predicted, and we had a long and very sunny motor across some very calm seas.

A peaceful Baie de Seine
We were at spring tides, and while we had sensibly use the start of the ebb to shoot ourselves out of the Dover Straits, at the other end of the journey we had to fight the flood, clawing our way round the Pointe de Barfleur before finally coming into Cherbourg.

It was time for a couple of boat jobs, and I re-ordered my courtesy flags and found some useful steps (Sue has long complained that it can be a bit of a step up to climb aboard) before Crispin and I headed out into town in order to find somewhere to eat.

This should do the trick
The courtesy flag roll

Alas my two favourite restaurants, Le Pommier and Au Tir Bouchon had closed in the four years since I had been to Cherbourg but we found the long standing Café de Paris to be wholly up to the job.

Plateau de fruits de mer

The following morning we awaited the tide to go round to Guernsey, enjoying the sights of the dinghy classes and fishing boats coming in and out.

Optimist dinghy training à la française
Cherbourg from the heights above (photo courtesy of Crispin, who ran up there)

To get to Guernsey means crossing the Alderney Race, which sends you sideways at 8-10 knots, meaning you have to crab across in order to stay on course. Even with modern chart plotters it is quite a challenge. We did however achieve it reasonably easily, coming into Guernsey in the early evening, having managed a bit of a sail under cruising chute, until alas it ripped and gave up the ghost for a final time. A new one is on order.

Crossing a boiling Alderney race. This is the last photo of my cruising chute, which ripped one final time at the end of its natural life…

We had an early night, as our neighbours were leaving at 5am and we needed to be up to see them off.

Dinner on board at St Peter Port
…and an early 5am wake up call

We filled up with diesel before sailing out in company with fellow Squadron yacht Speedwell of Cremyl, heading to Trébeurden to join the Royal Yacht Squadron Brittany cruise. Tides are all important along this stretch of the coast, and with a tidal difference of 9 metres we had to time our arrival and entrance quite carefully. Once achieved, we wandered around this lovely port and awaited the arrival of the remaining fleet. Thank you, Crispin, for accompanying me on this long delivery passage.

Entering Trébeurden at High Water…
The same sill at low water – what a difference 6 hours makes
Trébeurden at dusk

The Dutch Canals – Amsterdam to Vlissingen

Sue and I had an excellent couple of days exploring Amsterdam on foot and bike, including memorable visits to the Rijksmuseum and Tulip museum, and some great people watching while eating and drinking beside the canals. We then departed to take the Standing Mast Route (SMR) south from the city. The SMR, as its name indicates, allows a yacht to pass through the canal system without having to lower her mast. There are a series of lifting bridges and locks which allow one to do this.

After returning to the Nordseekanal we headed first west then south, aiming to spend the first night in Haarlem. We soon got used to the routine – most bridges are ‘on demand’, and when they see you come (or when you call them) the lights change to red and green, indicating that they have seen you and will open shortly. There is then typically a bell, the traffic is stopped, and the bridge opens. It is all done very efficiently. Some only open at certain times of day (particularly if they are part of a motorway or mainline railway) or shut during rush hour, so some degree of planning and waiting is required.

A typical lifting bridge

Haarlem was lovely. We arrived in the early evening, and managed to find a slot very near to the town centre. The beauty of Dutch towns is in some way directly related to the degree to which they suffered at the hands of the Luftwaffe – Haarlem and Leiden, in particular, were largely spared, like Amsterdam. The architecture is splendid – small brick construction, beautiful asymmetry in roof lines, neat gardens and flower pots everywhere, and cobbled streets and large and ornate old buildings.

Spellbinder parked in Haarlem, with lock and windmill behind
The Grote Kirk at Haarlem, and (below) typical architecture

After an evening stroll around beautiful Haarlem, we retired for the night and in the morning headed to Leiden, another stunningly beautiful town, in which again we were lucky enough to find a mooring right in the centre.

Beautiful Leiden – a small-scale Amsterdam

We strolled around the Botanic gardens, which were a sort of mini Kew, full of tropical plants in greenhouses and interesting garden designs. Leiden is a university and very multicultural town, and we heard much English spoken.

In these old towns there are often smaller, Victorian era bridges, which are beautifully designed

The next day we were lucky enough to meet up with Sue’s old friend Bijan, who lives in The Hague. He took us to his house, and we enjoyed a day on bikes, having lunch by the sea and enjoying The Hague’s cobbled streets and administrative buildings. It was fascinating and enjoyable – thank you Bijan. We learnt a great deal.

The Hague – in front of the Binnenhof (parliament buildings)

After two great days at Leiden we continued our journey south, stopping for the night just north of Dordrecht at a small marina at a place called Alblasserdam. This was nearest to the Kinderdijk, a UNESCO site renowned for its old windmills. We were able to hire a bike and had an enjoyable morning touring the old mills, which are beautifully aligned along a dyke. Some are thatched and inhabited.

Windmills, lilies, reflections and coots

Sue enjoying the sights

Sadly it was a still day, and the sails were not turning

Continuing our journey, we had a bridge to wait for in Dordrecht, so we found a small pontoon right in the centre to go and have an ice cream and explore.

Spellbinder moored below the Grote Kerk in Dordrecht, which was built in the Brabantine Gothic style

After Dordrecht we crossed over to Willemstad, a beautiful old fortified village, with two marinas which nestle in the marshes below the ramparts. We enjoyed a great walk around the latter, and the ambiance of the place, where we were to leave Spellbinder for a few days to head back to the UK to sup up the atmosphere of the Platinum Jubilee celebrations.

Willemstad marina, in the marshes – it was all quite East Anglian
The windmill dominating the marina

I returned to Rotterdam after the weekend to take Spellbinder down to Vlissingen, and on to Zeebrugge where I was to attend a rally. This part of the voyage took me via Middelburg, another beautiful town where I was able to moor in the middle of town. I had a very rainy day to get there though, passing through massive sea locks and bridges.

Passing through big locks in the rain…
…before arriving in beautiful Middelburg
Moored in the centre of town

In the morning I climbed the 205 steps of the Lange Jan (Long John) tower of the Koorkerk at Middelburg, which was good exercise and afforded great views of the countryside around, and of the remainder of the canal trip south. The town is interesting – it was partially destroyed in the war, but rebuilt using modern materials, but in a traditional style.

De Lange Jan tower...
…and the view south, to Vlissingen

The final bit of the journey was south to Vlissingen, or to give it its traditional British name, Flushing. To do this you join a ‘blue wave’ of yachts all going at the same time at predetermined intervals, enabling the bridges to have synchronised openings. In practice it was Spellbinder and Frenchman in a small boat, and we had to wait a while. On arrival I hired a bike again and explored Vlissingen – an industrial port, with a fishing and ship building industry, but with a beautiful old centre. I had heard of Flushing, like many British schoolchildren, because that is where the children ended up in Arthur Ransome’s We Didn’t Mean To Go To Sea.

Flowered streets in Vlissingen

And so ended Spellbinder’s Dutch adventures for the year. It has been hugely enjoyable. The Netherlands works – we saw nothing but integrated infrastructure, immaculate streets and gardens, and people who seem healthy, happy and anglophile. We didn’t see it all, of course, but what we saw was fabulous. Next stop – Normandy and Brittany, more familiar cruising grounds.

Chichester to Amsterdam

Having got to my mid fifties I consider myself to be well travelled, having spent time in many corners of the globe. Rather embarrassingly though I have yet to set foot in three major European cities – Venice, Amsterdam and Dublin. I had hoped to change the situation with the latter during my cruise last year, but the Irish were still imposing a Covid-related quarantine. This year, for various reasons, I decided to start my summer cruise by turning left out of Portsmouth and heading up the European North Sea coast to IJmuiden, with the express intention of visiting Amsterdam.

Crew for the passage were the duo with whom I crossed the Atlantic in 2018 – Alan and Neil. We were joined by friend Sean, gathering at Itchenor in Chichester Harbour where Spellbinder had been at a rally. Once gathered, we anchored out and got an early night, anticipating several days of sailing ahead, with quite brisk following winds.

First stop was Eastbourne Harbour, which we arrived at after a fairly uneventful downwind leg with light winds at first, allowing us to fly the cruising chute.

The crew gathered for a pleasant supper at anchor in Itchenor
Goosewinging down the UK south coast with the cruising chute
The wind and sea built as we approached Eastbourne – here we are off Beachy Head
Locking into Eastbourne

Once safely in, we plotted our next day’s route along the coast, planning to turn south before Dover to cross the busy shipping lanes at right angles and going into Calais. Sadly events meant a change to our plans, as Alan received news about a bereavement in his family and we headed to Dover to drop him off. Dover is currently closed to yachts for marina renovations, but they were understanding and allowed us to do a quick in and drop off, at the very pontoon where in calmer conditions asylum seekers are routinely landed, having been intercepted trying to cross from the French coast.

Once Alan had been dropped off we had a short and quite bumpy crossing to the French side in that worse of all sea states – residual swell and little wind. We got into Calais at last light, thinking that we might have to spend the night on a buoy outside the marina, but the bridge opened (automatically we think) letting us into the marina for the night.

Brexit has complicated matters for us yachtsmen, as in common with other travelers with UK passports we now require a stamp to start a clock which limits us to a 90 days stay in every 180 days. Calais didn’t seem in that much of a hurry to help us, and since we hadn’t left the environs of the marina we decided to immigrate at the next destination, Zeebrugge.

It was a fairly quick passage up the French coast, past Dunkirk and Ostend, with strong following winds which we were glad to gain shelter from as we rounded the big entrance.

In Zeebrugge Harbour. By now we felt as if we had done a tour of the major ferry ports…
The rather urban setting of the Royal Belgian Sailing Club, Zeebrugge

Having arrived safely we phoned immigration and they promptly arrived at our pontoon to stamp passports and ask us various questions. I didn’t sense they were impressed with this new workload imposed by Brexit. We were able to head out and enjoy an excellent dinner at a nearby fish restaurant but didn’t have time for an extensive tour. I am returning there in a couple of weeks’ time, and hope to go through a bridge which takes one to Bruges, a few miles inland.

The final leg was up to IJmuiden, some 81 miles, but we decided to cut it a bit short by heading into Scheveningen, a small port adjacent to The Hague. It was blustery again, as I hope the photos below show, and we were pleased to get into what proved to be a very crowded little marina, raising our third courtesy flag of the trip (after the French and Belgian ones).

Entering a blustery Scheveningen Harbour
Spellbinder in a crowded harbour. We got pretty much the last space, having to reverse into strong winds

IJmuiden, and the entrance we wanted into the Netherlands inland waterways, was 24 miles north, and we had a boisterous 3 hour fast beam reach up the coast the next day, leaving a crew member or two slightly green. Once into IJmuiden we headed straight for the small lock (there are several big ones) which allows entry into the Nordseekanal, the canal which leads to Amsterdam.

Preparing to lock into the Netherlands inland water system
Sharing the Nordseekanal with some rather large ships…

It is a busy 24km into Amsterdam, and you have to monitor VHF traffic carefully. We met lots of different types of craft, including huge container ships and several other yachts. Once into Amsterdam though we found a berth at the main marina, from where we have been able to explore the city.

The plan is to head south now through the Standing Mast Route over the coming few days. I leave you with a few photos of this beautiful city and some of its cultural attractions and interests.

Spellbinder features on the 2023 Imray Almanac

I am delighted to announce that the 2023 CA Imray Almanac will feature Spellbinder at anchor in Tinker’s Hole last summer.

I can’t recall whether it was I who took the photo, or my then crew Crispin, but I entered the photo in a competition as I liked it. Clearly others did so too! It certainly brings good memories of a fine cruise up in Scotland last year. Spellbinder is the yacht in the foreground, but we got to know the crews of the others too, and shared much merriment.

Spellbinder is in good shape after the winter and just needs a hull scrub before being ready for the season. I took her to Cowes last weekend and all seems fine. Apart from servicing the engine and undertaking some minor repairs I have not done much to her, other than to replace her carpets. A local firm (non yacht industry and therefore reasonable in price) copied her old ones and I am very pleased with the result – the blue seems to suit her.

Plans for the 2022 season are coming on well. I’ll be sailing locally in April and May, but plan to head to IJmuiden in late May to spend time in Amsterdam and the canals. The rest of the summer sees a gentle cruise down the French coast to Northern Brittany, a return to UK for some maintenance, then Southern Brittany and the Spanish rias beckon later on.

I have crew in place for the legs but there some berths available for those with whom I’ve sailed and who have not yet been able to commit.

A review of 2021 and a look forward…

Spellbinder is put away for the season – still in the water, but with a heater and dehumidifier keeping her warm and dry. If we get a period of mild and calm weather I do not exclude taking her out, but having been regularly wet and cold in my professional life, I now limit the numbers of occasions when I impose it on myself! After returning from her main cruise, she sailed locally, including down to Weymouth and back under parasailor, which was memorable.

I have just written up the 2021 season and reviewed the statistics for my log book: 2755 nautical miles, and 79 days on board. Not bad, given that at the turn of the year we were in lockdown and I was wondering if we’d get any sailing at all. My old log book, which records a first entry in 1995, also reveals that I have sailed 35821 miles and spent 855 days of my life (2.3 years) sailing! This is clearly not enough…

My main cruise of this year, which I have entitled ‘Picts, Celts and Manx: a Tour of the Four Nations’ was immensely enjoyable. It was good to get up to the Outer Hebrides and Orkney, to transit the Caledonian Canal and to spend time revisiting Northern Ireland and exploring the wonderful Pembrokeshire coast. Lundy and Padstow, new to me, were fitting places to pass through on the way back. I also found it fascinating to see how different parts of UK viewed Brexit, and how each of the devolved governments were dealing with Covid. For those interested, I have written an abridged account of the cruise, which includes the best photos, here:

Plans for 2022 are coming together. I expect to sail locally in April and May, perhaps hopping over to Cherbourg if conditions (meteorological and pandemical) allow. Around 23rd May I intend to sail to the Netherlands, joining a Hallberg Rassy Owners’ Rally, before sailing down the Continental coast to join another rally in Northern Brittany in late June. I then plan to head back to UK, lift out for a couple of weeks for some maintenance and repair (a new cutlass bearing and sea cock, some touching up of the Coppercoat and a small rudder repair) then head back to France, probably to Southern Brittany. I have wanted to explore the Spanish Rias and overwinter in Porto or Lisbon for the last couple of years, so perhaps 2022/3 will afford me that opportunity.

I will be emailing regular crew in the coming weeks, but if any other reader would like to be involved, do please contact me.

0430 hours 1st June 2021 – leaving Craighouse, Jura, with the Paps behind

Abersoch, Solva, Lundy and Padstow

Recent days have seen Spellbinder negotiate some well known and notorious passages between the Welsh mainland and outlying islands – namely The Swellies, and Bardsey, Ramsey and Jack Sounds. I recounted our passage through the first in the last blog post, and having left Caernarfon and negotiated its bar, Bardsey Sound was the next. Thankfully these passages rarely present a problem in calm conditions (strong wind against tide being the real danger) but even so Bardsey kicked up some broken water and pushed us through rapidly, with 5 or 6 knots of tide helping us.

One of the calmer areas of Bardsey Sound

One of the advantages to writing this blog is that every now and again someone gets in touch and says ‘I’m around where you are – let’s meet’. And so it was I got a message from Ian, who invited me to call by on the way down. Once through Bardsey Sound, we paused at anchor for a cup of tea in Aberdaron Bay, before taking up Ian’s invitation to meet him and his family at Abersoch, known locally as ‘Cheshire on Sea’. We sailed past an island now owned by Bear Grylls, and the harbourmaster allocated us a buoy. Ian picked us up in his RIB and we had a couple of drinks at the welcoming South Carmarthenshire Yacht Club before having a delightful pierrade / raclette at the family house. Thank you Ian and your family for such a welcome and for all your advice.

Looking out over the Abersoch mooring field. Snowdon and the other mountains of Snowdonia are in the background
Early morning start from Abersoch, with the sun rising over Snowdonia

The next morning was an early one, as we needed to get cross Cardigan Bay and get to Ramsey Sound with a fair tide. This summer, apart from the initial delivery trip, Spellbinder hasn’t sailed at night, and we have kept to quite civilised schedules, but this time we had no choice. It was a nice sail across, and once in Ramsey Sound we hit the tide at the right time, recording 12.8 knots Speed over Ground (SOG), as the chart plotter records below.

Ramsey Sound

Our destination was Solva, a delightful inlet and drying harbour not far from St David’s. We anchored outside in the calm northerly breeze, and went ashore by dinghy to explore one of the nicest corners of Wales I have been to.

Solva – looking up the river…
…and to seaward
Spellbinder anchored outside the harbour in the distance
Anthony, the jovial Solva harbourmaster, with whom we had a pleasant chat
Solva looking somewhat different at high water
Dinner on board at Solva

After a slightly rolly night (the wind had got up in the night) we sailed away and through the next tidal gate – Jack Sound, which separates Skomer Island from the mainland. Again, conditions were benign and we were able to pass through without much difficulty.

Jack Sound…not that dissimilar to Bardsey and Ramsey, I grant you – but they are all somewhat iconic names to the cruising yachtsmen, and rites of passage

Destination this time was Lundy, and we had a fair breeze once clear of the Milford Haven peninsula, and a cracking sail across. As the winds were in the east, we used the lesser-known but rather spectacular anchorage at Jenny’s Cove, on the west side. This brought us shelter and relative calm, but shore access is described in the pilot book as ‘difficult’. Undeterred, we rowed ashore, dragged the dinghy up the rock face to above the high water mark, and clambered up the cliffs and heather to attain the level of the plateau, from where we walked south down to the main settlement on Lundy.

Approaching Jenny’s Cove, Lundy
The view after the climb up
Looking northwest
On the Lundy plateau. We also saw goats, and sika deer, some with magnificent antlers

We had a look at the eastern anchorage (which was deserted) and church, and had supper in the pub, the Marisco Tavern.

The normal anchorage used in prevailing winds, and at which all stores are landed

The walk back brought us further fine views as the sun set against a clear blue sky in the west.

One way to visit Lundy and have free accommodation
Not a bad anchorage as they go

We clambered back down the cliffs, found our dinghy and paddled back as it was getting dark. Waking in the morning to more swell, we headed away south east, aiming for Padstow and taking advantage of the morning ebb.

Sailing down the Irish sea towards Padstow. As we found on the way up, this part of the world is full of dolphins

Arriving too early to cross the Doom Bar in the River Camel, we anchored off Polzeath Beach, which was seething with humanity in the fine weather, with RNLI lifeguards issuing regular tellings off and advice over their loud tannoys, reminding me of how I would most not like to spend my holidays.

At High Water minus 2.5 hours we weighed anchor, and headed with the flood tide over the famous bar and into Padstow Harbour, which opened shortly after our arrival. We were allocated a space on the wall, and chatted to the harbourmaster who decried the people thronging around, who ‘would normally be in Benidorm’. It was certainly busy, and I couldn’t help noticing that even Rick Stein’s café was closed for want of staff.

Spellbinder against the wall in Padstow Harbour
Despite the throng, Padstow was looking pretty

We left the next morning, having had a quiet night when the crowds had dispersed. There then followed a long motor around Cornwall, passing Land’s End and Lizard in calm conditions, before arriving in Falmouth to anchor in the town anchorage at dusk, after 14 hours.

Spellbinder is in Falmouth for an Ocean Cruising Club (OCC) meet, and I will leave her here here next week while I wait for the easterly wind to abate. It brings fine weather, but is not conducive to heading back up the English Channel…

Isle of Man and Anglesey

Having enjoyed the Clyde, I headed home for a while before returning to take Spellbinder to the Isle of Man, single-handing. I am a sociable sailor by nature, but I do enjoy the odd spot of single-handing from time to time, as I get time to think and organise things. It is also a good challenge which requires one to think ahead and get everything ready, particularly for the first and last 200 metres of any passage, which are often the hardest. It also requires one to be scrupulous about personal safety – I always wear a life jacket which carries a Personal Locator Beacon.

It has also been a tough week for those of us who have served in the Armed Forces. The news coming out of Afghanistan is truly dreadful for those who have been involved in the country, and particularly for those traumatised by their experience there. I was pondering all this while listening to England folding against India on the last day of the fine test match at Lords; it was not a good day.

I was glad to be aboard though, and had a good sail from Ardrossan to Loch Ryan, where I arrived at dusk and passed a quiet night at anchor. I thought I was going to be the only yacht there, but two arrived just after. It’s a classic passage anchorage, albeit one which suffers wash from the ferries heading to the island of Ireland. I left just after dawn, catching the early southerly back eddy which runs down the Mull of Galloway, which spat me out nicely in the direction of the Isle of Man as a good sailing wind built. I arrived in Douglas without incident, being placed on the quarantine pontoon while my credentials were checked. I had had to email proof of double vaccination beforehand, and gain various reference numbers and permissions.

Arriving in Douglas. I had a fine sail down the east side of the island
On the cruise pontoon, watching the ferries arrive as my proof of Covid vaccination was checked
Once passed, I motored round to the lifting bridge which opens to provide access to the inner marina

Thankfully the berth was an easy one to access, and I tucked in without difficulty. It had been a long day; single-handing, at least in coastal waters, is far more tiring, as you never really get a break.

I had a couple of days to explore the Isle of Man, of which I knew little other than its constitutional status, tax efficient arrangements and TT race. On the first day I took a steam train from Douglas to Port Erin over on the west side of the island, which was an enjoyable trip washed down with a pint and a pie in a local pub.

The steam railway is owned by the State, and still uses the original locomotives, which are in immaculate condition
Port Erin. Like much of the Isle of Man, it had a feel of faded Victorian grandeur, such as you might find on the southeast coast of England
Puffing back to Douglas

The next day I hired a car from the airport, and drove around the island in a clockwise direction, some of it on the TT circuit (but at somewhat more modest speeds). Below are a selection of places I visited.

Port St Mary. Given the tidal ranges, all the harbours dry out, and only Douglas and Peel have locks which retain a suitable depth for yachts like Spellbinder
Calf Sound, at the southwest tip of the island
Peel Castle, originally built by the Vikings in the 11th century
Peel marina, with its lock at the end which retains the water levels
Point of Ayre, on the north east tip
Ramsey – the odd interesting bit of architecture, but overall I felt it had a rather down-at-heel feel
Laxey harbour…
…its beach…
…and the famous waterwheel, the largest in the world, which sits atop the town. It was built to pump water away

I enjoyed my tour of the island, but had a sense – as one gets in the Channel Islands at times – of stepping back in time a little. I would not describe the island as very obviously flourishing, and I did wonder quite how much of its apparent wealth trickles down to the general public good.

My departure was timed for a fine northwesterly breeze which set me on course for Whitehaven, where I was to meet Sue and pick up Jonty, with is crewing for me as we return Spellbinder down south.

On the Douglas outer pontoon, waiting to depart for Cumbria

I had a good fast sail, broad reaching in a force 4/5 over six hours, and Sue helped me lock in and get a berth. Joined by Jonty a couple of days later, we locked out and headed for Anglesey, and had a long 13 hour motorsail, through wind farms and past gas drilling rigs.

In the UK you are generally allowed to sail through wind farms which are operational, as long as you stay 50 metres or more from the turbines themselves. This is one of the Walney wind farms, and in common with others the blades at their lowest point are at least 22 metres from sea level, which is above the height of Spellbinder’s mast

We made it into the Menai Strait past Puffin Island, just as dusk was falling, and we picked up a buoy at Beaumaris. A rainy but otherwise quiet night followed, before we tackled the notorious Swellies.

Heading through the Swellies at HW Liverpool -2, at high water slack, when they are at their most amenable. There is not much room between the submerged rocks though, and you have to be attentive to the line you take. This photo looks back to the Menai Suspension Bridge
Heading out of the Swellies, under Britannia Bridge

With The Swellies behind us, we continued down the Strait to Caernarfon, where we went into the Victoria Dock marina and explored the town with its Edward I castle.

Caernarfon Castle and (below) its river

Spellbinder’s journey south continues, and I hope in the next week to visit various points on the Welsh coast and also Lundy and Padstow, before getting to Falmouth at the end of the month.

Calm in the Clyde

The last few days have seen us explore the relatively sheltered waters of the Clyde, in some fine weather. When the waters west and north of the Mull of Kintyre can be rough and tidally constrained, the Clyde, benefiting from the Mull and the various mainland peninsulas, is often calm by comparison. In recent years marinas and buoys have proliferated, which has made life easier in some respects, but there are still many places where you can get away from it all and anchor. Compared to the waters of southern England, there are far fewer yachts.

Sue and I were joined by Johnny and Lucy, and together we set off from Ardrossan and anchored for the night off the island of Little Cumbrae by its castle. After a calm night, not far from a seal colony, we headed over its sister island Great Cumbrae and moored at Millport for a stroll around the island.

On top of Great Cumbrae

After a cup of tea with the crew of another Squadron yacht we headed up East Kyle, one of the passages around the Isle of Bute. We passed through the very beautiful Burnt Islands before anchoring in behind Eilean Dubh, in Caladh Harbour.

Coming into Caladh Harbour
Not a bad place to wake up. Despite a water temperature of around 14 degrees, one of the crew swam…

The next morning the girls went for a walk, and Johnny and I sailed down West Kyle and joined them in the purpose-built Portavadie, where we had a celebratory birthday lunch for Sue.

We then decided to head up Loch Fyne, one of the typically long sea lochs which stretch right up into the mainland. Passing through the Narrows, we continued on and found a settled anchorage in Loch Gair for the night.

Our aim the next day was to get to Inveraray, near the head of the loch. Its well-known castle is the seat of the Duke of Argyll – the current incumbent is the 13th – and it made an excellent visit after we had strolled past and taken in the views from the surrounding hills.

Overlooking Inveraray, its castle and Loch Fyne beyond
Nice symmetrical proportions, if you like that sort of thing
This dining room featured in an episode of Downton Abbey, when the family headed to Scotland for Christmas
The Duke of Argyll’s armoury
The gardens are pretty impressive too

We then tried to anchor at the head of the loch, but finding the depths and holding uncertain, went back to one of the buoys off Inveraray for the night.

Having had northerly winds up to now, our passage back south meant we could deploy the cruising chute, and while the speeds weren’t great, the weather was fine and we enjoyed a gentle sail down the loch to East Loch Tarbert.

Cruising Chute deployed
The crew taking it easy. The upturned dinghy makes a most comfortable mattress, and the black retains the warmth

East Loch Tarbert is a beautiful sheltered port, where a new marina jostles alongside the fishing port, shops and restaurants surround, and hills and islands provide the required shelter.

East Loch Tarbert, viewed from Tarbert castle above
I have always enjoyed places where yachts and fishing boats live alongside each other. The seafood is usually very good too – the place to go here is called ‘Starfish’, although it was sadly shut the day we were there

The crew enjoyed the facilities and we filled up our water tanks before heading out and down the loch and around to Brodick, where we picked up a buoy and went for a long walk down to the point at which Lamlash and Holy Isle were visible.

Looking across to Holy Isle
Looking back over towards Goat Fell. It is the time of year where Rosebay Willowherb abounds
Beach flora

That evening we were taken out by Johnny and Lucy to the Brodick Brasserie, which was excellent. Thank you both!

I had been to Holy Isle a fortnight ago with Crispin, but hadn’t had time to climb up to the top. We took the opportunity the next day, in fine weather, and having anchored by the shore much enjoyed the climb and consequent views.

Prayer flags at the foot of the Isle…
…and at the summit
Those heading to the retreat gain inspiration by walking by several of these figures

Our final evening was back at Brodick, in calm conditions and warm sunshine. It’s a delightful spot, dominated by Goat Fell above.

Apéro time

Our final sail back to Ardrossan saw the wind climb to a heady 14 knots, and we enjoyed a good sail back. It was a great week of exploring, and we were blessed with the weather. We sailed each day, despite the calm conditions. We could have spent all summer there though, as there are may places to explore. I’ll be back. Thank you Johnny and Lucy for being such great crew!

The passage south begins in a few days, and I hope to be back on the south coast by the end of August. Crew who have sailed with me recently will be pleased to hear that Spellbinder now has a new autopilot and wind instrumentation, and all is working fine!

Belfast – Portpatrick – Strangford – Glenarm – Clyde

Neil and Clare arrived shortly after Crispin’s departure, and enjoyed a day in Belfast before we left the following morning. The Titanic Centre is excellent and gives a real picture of life in the docks in their heyday at the beginning of the 20th century.

The Titanic Centre. The slipway where Titanic was launched is marked out by posts
HMS Caroline, a light cruiser

Our first destination was Portpatrick, across on the Scottish side of the North Channel and on the exposed Mull of Galloway. Fortunately conditions were fair and we negotiated the tides to arrive in this charming harbour and tie up against the wall.

Leaving Belfast
Portpatrick harbour with Spellbinder moored against the wall

Portpatrick was remarkable for its neatness and sense of community spirit; the harbour is owned and run by the community itself, and staffed by volunteers. Good things abound – floral displays, information boards, helpful signage and facilities and so on. Also remarkable were the guillemots, which inhabit the holes in the harbour wall and feed off the little fish which seem to abound. Their acrobatics were a joy to watch and occasionally they would miss their nest and rebound of the wall, falling in the water or onto our deck.

A guillemot in its hole, with little pink feet and fish for its young
…and a slightly concussed one, recovering its poise

We strolled above the town, visiting the ruins of Dunskey Castle, then settling down somewhat more prosaically to watch the football.

Dunskey Castle
Not the final result we might have wished for, but a good place to watch the match

We then debated whether to head back to Northern Ireland, or go to the Isle of Man. We had filled in our proof of vaccination forms for the IoM, and the very efficient system gave us permission to enter, but on investigation learned that we must first land in Douglas, rather than Peel, which would have made for a longer journey. The winds were fairer for a re-crossing of the North Channel though, so we aimed for Strangford Lough and had an excellent cruising chute run most of the way there.

I had visited the Lough before by land, but coming in by sea is quite spectacular. The tides race through the Narrows between Portaferry and Strangford and timing is all. We registered some quite impressive speeds as we slid through and headed north up the Lough.

Cruising Chute in action in the North Channel
A fair speed over the ground, heading through the Strangford Narrows
Entering the Narrows

We aimed for a little inlet where Down Cruising Club have their pontoon and clubhouse, which is an old light ship. Unable to land on their pontoon owing to Covid restrictions, a friendly member lent us their buoy for a couple of nights and we enjoyed pausing in a very tranquil and beautiful environment, walking and kayaking and chatting to the locals. We were also joined by Charlie, an old friend and work colleague.

Down Cruising Club HQ
Low tide in the creek
Great to see you Charlie
The kayakers depart
More fine sunsets

We headed out and picked up a buoy (kindly lent to us by another Down Cruising Club member Ivan) nearer the Narrows, in Ballyhenry Bay, where we had a BBQ and a quiet night, before heading out in the dinghy to explore Portaferry and Strangford itself. The latter was more picturesque, and we enjoyed a good lunch at the Artisan cafe.

BBQ weather, Strangford Narrows
On the Strangford ferry
Strangford

That afternoon, to get out and make the most of the north going tide, we stemmed the last of the flood and punched out, riding the northerly set as far as Glenarm, a charming little town set at the foot of one of Antrim’s nine glens, arriving at dusk in the little marina.

The next day saw us stroll around the town, visit the lovely castle gardens and walk up the glen.

Glenarm marina
Glenarm Castle gardens
Apricots galore
The Antrim glens are well worth visiting
We visited during the marching season. The town wears its colours at this time: the lady in the visitor centre said to us ‘we never see them being put up or taken down…’

The final voyage of the week took us back to Scotland, to Lamlash in Arran. We had another good sail in fine weather, picking up a buoy as the light faded, and waking up to the fine view of Holy Isle, and the sail training ship Tenacious which occupied a central part of the anchorage. We strolled around Lamlash then motored over to Holy Isle, anchoring off and walking around the edge of it.

Tenacious’ at anchor
Looking across to Holy Isle
Prayer flags, Holy Isle. There is still a nunnery, and a ‘Centre for World Peace and Health’
A poignantly dedicated grove
Looking back from Holy Isle to Lamlash

After lunch we headed up the Clyde to Ardrossan, where I will be leaving Spellbinder for a while, during which time she is due to have a bit of an electronic refit, with new wind instruments, autopilot and VHF to be installed. The originals date from 2006 and are coming to the end of their lives.

Leaving Holy Isle for Ardrossan

Thank you Neil and Clare for your company in what was an excellent week, in lovely weather.

Oban to Belfast via Iona, Staffa, Treshnish, Tiree and Islay

This last week has been full of adventure and new places. I was joined by Crispin in Southampton airport and we took a flight to Glasgow and onward taxi back to Linnhe Marine, where Spellbinder awaited us, having enjoyed rather better weather than we had had in the South. Linnhe marine were excellent – thank you to Nick and his father for running such an excellent service. It’s a great place to leave a yacht.

Linnhe Marine

Having checked all was well on board, we motored in very humid weather down to Oban, where we had a first meal out in the same restaurant I had enjoyed with Sue and Jonty a couple of weeks back.

EE-Usk: a great restaurant by Oban Harbour

The mussels were superb, but not as good as some we had the next day, as we were to find out. It was a driech start, and having done some shopping, we headed out into the drizzle to Loch Spelve for lunch.

A reminder that sailing in Scotland is often damp…
Driech, temperamental conditions

Loch Spelve has a slightly tricky entrance, but having negotiated it we anchored off a mussel farm, and bought a 2kg bag for later consumption.

Mussels for sale
A bargain, as we were to find out later

There then followed quite a lengthy motor down the south side of the Ross of Mull in improving weather, as we headed for one of the most iconic anchorages in the Western Isles, Tinker’s Hole. It is really just a cut in the rocks and a pool behind, but the setting is stunning.

A view of the entrance to Tinker’s Hole, as seen from the drone. Iona is behind and to the left.
At anchor in Tinker’s Hole

There was just about enough room to anchor, and after eating our Loch Spelve mussels (deliciously sweet) we enjoyed an excellent evening with the crews of Ptarmigan and Seanachaidh, whom we joined the next day. Thank you for your hospitality and some memorable entertaining, most notably some fine singing from the young girls in Gallic!

Loch Spelve mussels, cooked to perfection by Crispin
Thank you to the crews of Seanachaidh and Ptarmigan for your hospitality!
A great place to fly the drone
One of the finest anchorages I have taken a yacht
Another drone view, looking the other way

After a stroll around the hills above Tinker’s Hole, we threaded our way out of the anchorage through some narrow, rock-strewn anchorages towards Iona, where we anchored to explore the ancient abbey and its surrounds.

Iona abbey
The grounds of the old nunnery on Iona

Iona was delightful, and the weather superb. It is somewhat touristy though, and we were unable to tour the abbey for want of guided tour slots. We enjoyed our time there though, and enjoyed a good lunch in the St Columba Hotel.

An hour or so north of Iona is the wonderful island of Staffa, full of columnar basalt, tame puffins and Fingal’s Cave, a spectacular sea cave named after the eponymous hero of an epic poem by the Scottish poet James Macpherson. It also inspired Mendelssohn’s concert overture The Hebrides. Anchoring off the island, we dinghied ashore and explored all of this, enjoying the spectacular rock formations.

Fingal’s Cave, a short stroll around the cliff from the landing place
Tame puffins, with Spellbinder at anchor in the background

After a couple of hours on Staffa, we sailed over to the Treshnish Isles, spectacularly remote and with some more stunning bird life. Anchoring just east of Lunga, Crispin went for a run and we joined our new Scottish friends for another evening of general merriment.

The anchorage at Lunga, Treshnish
Sunset at Treshnish – photo taken not long before midnight

After a calm night we headed over to Tiree, picking up a buoy in Gott Bay, and strolling around the local area. I’m not a great football fan, but felt that it was worth tapping into the zeitgeist and we found ourselves that evening in the newly refurbished Scarinish Hotel, clinging onto some slightly unreliable WiFi and watching the Euro semi final on my phone, with some somewhat ambivalent locals!

Watching England beat Denmark

The next day we undertook the first of two quite lengthy passages. Up early, we motored out and headed down towards the south coast of Islay, some 60 miles distant. The aim was to visit a couple of the distillery bays. First was Laphroig, where the holding wasn’t that good, but we flew the drone and savoured the atmosphere, smelling the distilling process in the air.

Laphroig Bay. I love peaty whisky, and sometimes prefer Laphroig to Lagavulin, which is amongst the peatiest. It’s a question of mood…

Around the corner was Lagavulin, where we had about 30cm below the keel at low water, but given the calm conditions it was a perfect place to stop for the night.

Views of Lagavulin Bay, on a serene evening

We had a great little stroll around the Bay, although we had arrived too late to visit the distillery itself. We had a calm night though, before getting up at 5am and heading out towards the Northern Irish coast, aiming for Belfast, which we reached 12 hours later, heading up the Loch, reporting in to Belfast Harbour Radio, and into the channel right into the heart of the City, in the Titanic quarter, which has been recently developed to great effect.

Passing the famous Harland and Wolff cranes, heading into Belfast City Harbour and the Abercorn Basin
Spellbinder moored in front of the Titanic museum. It is great to be in Belfast in happier times

Crispin and I had a final night in the company of Tony and Penny, old friends of mine, with whom we dined in the Titanic Hotel. It was great to catch up.

Spellbinder has another week with new crew Neil and Clare before I leave her in the Clyde and head back south. The weather looks set reasonably fair so hopefully we’ll have some more adventures in new places. This last week has been fabulous though, and everything I anticipated cruising the Western Isles would be. Thank you Crispin for being great crew again!

Inverness to Fort William – The Caledonian Canal

With younger son swapped for older, my crew change at Inverness was complete. Inverness wasn’t a bad place to do it, as the marina is just a short taxi ride from the airport, which both sons used. The disadvantage was that it was a fair walk into town, so I dug out my Brompton bicycle, which had languished deep in the cockpit locker for the last couple of years. It was none the worse for wear and I accomplished a decent shop. While crossing the Pentland Firth I had also put a call in with Majestic Wine, who kindly delivered to the marina to resupply vital lubricants.

Claret resupply. Logistics are important on a yacht

Leaving Jonty to head to the airport, Tom and I headed round to the Inverness sea loch at Clachnaharry, where we were greeted by a friendly American member of staff who told us what to expect. The Canal was completed in 1922 and was constructed by Scottish engineer Thomas Telford. 29 locks, four aqueducts, ten bridges and some 60 miles awaited us.

Entering the Caledonian Canal. This is probably the first time Spellbinder has floated in fresh water. The Brompton proved very useful along the route. The locks were all manned, and the staff unfailingly polite, easy-going and helpful
An early stretch of the canal, not far from Inverness

We soon got into the swing of it and adapted to the routine of going through the locks and waiting for bridges to open. Before long we found ourselves in Loch Ness. Often the prevailing winds make this an uncomfortable motor, but we had a fair wind for a while and managed a brief sail and a coffee anchored under Castle Urquhart. We also made good use of the drone to get some fine footage.

A fine, albeit brief sail up Loch Ness. No monsters seen
Anchored under Castle Urquhart. Not a bad place for a coffee
Castle Urquhart from the side
Mid Loch Ness

At the end of Loch Ness we ascended the locks up Fort Augustus, which seemed like a suitable place to stop for the first night.

Typical lock action. You just need longish bow and stern lines, and lots of fenders. We didn’t see many other yachts, but quite a few hired small cruisers. The crews were obliged to wear old-fashioned thick foam life jackets though, which would have put me off…
Fort Augustus
First berth for the night

After a quiet night we headed off from Fort Augustus, climbing up the locks until we met the mid point of the canal, from where we started to descend. For me this part was the most beautiful, as the canal wound through quiet upland countryside.

Mid canal scenes
Approaching the Canal mid point, from where we started to descend

Once through the mid point, we headed down Lochs Oich and Lochy, past Invergarry Castle and eventually to Banavie, at the top of a series of lochs known as Neptune’s Staircase. The countryside changed, and Ben Nevis and its surrounding mountains appeared, with snow patches still clearly visible.

Ben Nevis appearing, viewed from the water….
..and across wild flower meadows. Almost Alpine
Rhododendrons on the mountainside. An invasive species, they nonetheless give agreeable colour at this time of the year

We arrived at the top of Neptune’s Staircase, and stopped for the night, enjoying the views and the engineering.


Neptune’s Staircase viewed from the top and bottom

In the morning we took the first descent down the 8 locks, and moored shortly afterwards to allow Tom to run up and down Ben Nevis, which he did in a remarkably brisk time.

Summit photo. I wasn’t there…

Tom’s rapid mountain bagging allowed us to head down to Corpach and exit the canal, with Spellbinder once more floating in salt water.

Corpach sea lock opening for us. Our arrival coincided with the first of the 3 Peaks yachts who had finished their race

In increasingly poor weather we headed down Loch Linnhe through the Corran Narrows to the very friendly mooring field at Linnhe Marine, which is to be Spellbinder’s base for the next ten days. The next day the weather was foul, but we did motor down to Port Appin where we had an excellent celebratory lunch at the Pierhouse Hotel.

It was a really enjoyable transit, although very different from rounding Cape Wrath! I was impressed by the laid-back efficiency of the lock keepers and the general administration of the place. We were helped with sunny weather, which helped greatly, and the midges had not yet arrived.

Spellbinder will remain in Loch Linnhe for the next ten days while I return south, but her adventures will recommence in early July.

The current view from the heads
Linnhe Marine, Spellbinder’s current mooring

Around Cape Wrath to Orkney

The passage from the lochs in the extreme north west of Scotland, around Cape Wrath to Orkney, is not an easy one. Unencumbered by the protection of the Outer Hebrides, the seas north of the Butt of Lewis are unconstrained, and the rollers have their origins in winds far out west in the Atlantic – from Canada even. In addition, in order to make the tidal gate of Hoy Sound – the western entrance of Scapa Flow – you have to fight the tide around the Cape.

We left Kinlochbervie at 4am, rounding the coast and entering a quite confused sea. The sun rises in the north east at this time of year, and we were greeted by spectacular vistas shining across a sea stack.

A north eastern dawn, shining through a sea stack just south of Cape Wrath at 0430
Cape Wrath, a short while later

Once round the Cape, the Atlantic swell stabilised somewhat and we motor sailed a mile and a half off. Paul, a former Navy pilot, indicated a rocky island which he had bombed several times from a Sea Harrier, and which is still in use by the MOD for that purpose.

Arrival in Orkney went as planned, although we just squeezed through into Hoy Sound, and I should in retrospect have got up at 0300, as at one stage we had 1 knot of speed fighting the beginnings of the foul tide.

Jonty having a good helm as we approached Orkney
Through Hoy Sound – just. There was quite a tidal rip (the camera always flattens the angles) as the ebb tide met the Atlantic rollers…

Once into Stromness, we were delighted to be joined by St Barbara V, the Royal Artillery yacht, which was skippered by regular Spellbinder crew Neil. The yacht is conducting an anti-clockwise UK circumnavigation. We even managed to fix their heads with a spare part I carried, for which they very kindly gave me a bottle of single malt, as their morale had been somewhat boosted by the repair!

Spellbinder moored alongside St Barbara V in Stromness marina

The next day we hired a car and explored the mainland of Orkney, which expanded somewhat in the Second World War as ‘Churchill’ barriers were built linking some islands and in so doing cut off potential routes in to attack ships anchored in Scapa Flow.

Scapa flow is known mainly for the scuttling of the German fleet in 1919 and for the daring and successful attack by a German U Boat in 1939 which sank HMS Royal Oak. We learnt much about these events as we toured.

The outside of a chapel built by Italian POWs in WWII…
…and the beautiful inside
Driving along one of the ‘Churchill Barriers’ with evidence of blockships sunk in the war
The sad history of the sinking of HMS Royal Oak. Lauded by Hitler, the daring U Boat captain died later in the war
Paul was also very interested in the memorial to the first pilot ever to land an aircraft on a ship. He did so twice, before a terminal third attempt

Having spent a while appreciating the history of Scapa Flow in the two World Wars, we then drove to some of the peninsulas and appreciated the vistas and geology. We also found a bistro at the southern tip of the mainland which not only served us a very fine and warming seafood chowder, but also afforded us fine views across the Pentland Firth, another notorious stretch of water which we would cross two days later.

The distillery was sadly shut, but Jonty and Caspar nonetheless posed before it. The other distillery in Orkney is Highland Park
The sea forcing its way into the Orkney coast
Orkney’s east coast
Lunch overlooking the Pentland Firth
A rare foreign yacht arrived the evening after our drive around Orkney mainland. They enjoyed traditional Francophile and Francophone Spellbinder hospitality. Fair winds Didier, Patrick and Pierre. I was delighted to entertain members of the Yacht Club de France

The next morning Paul and Caspar flew out of Orkney and Jonty and I headed south to explore Scapa Flow by boat. Jonty caught several mackerel, and we ended up at Long Hope, sheltering from the west winds before crossing Pentland Firth the next day.

Farewell to Stromness. There’s a musical connection…
Spellbinder at Long Hope. We enjoyed a walk over the hill to look at mainland Scotland
A tranquil but fiery sunset. This RNLI lifeboat is situated a few minutes from some of the UK’s most treacherous waters, and I met some of the volunteer members in the pub later that evening. It was a refreshingly normal experience

The next morning we headed out at the right time for the tides, and crossed Pentland Firth uneventfully. It can run up to 16 knots, making it perhaps the most fearsome bit of water in the UK (more so than Portland Bill) but we crossed at neaps in fine weather.

Passing Scotland’s north eastern tip, with help from a bit of flood tide
Duncansby Head

Destination for the evening was Wick, which has a well-sheltered harbour and, much to my delight, a fine French restaurant which has been in business for 22 years. Never one to turn down such an opportunity, I indulged in escargots and confit de canard in Bord de la Mer, reveling in the oddness of doing so in the far north east of the UK.

Snails in Wick. I have never said that before
Wick marina. Wick was once the herring capital of the world, and the heyday was 1912

Our final passage was along the coast to Inverness, in a steady easterly breeze, which made for some enjoyable sailing.

Coming into Inverness

We now have a couple of days of admin; Tom flies in and Jonty flies out. The Caledonian Canal, with Loch Ness, 22 locks and fresh water awaits us.

To and from the Outer Hebrides

Having picked up new crew member Paul in Mallaig, we headed up towards the Kyle of Lochalsh but dipped into Loch Hourn for a night. A typical wide open sea loch at the entrance, it narrows a little and we found a wonderfully quiet anchorage to starboard, protected by an island with resident seals who watched over us.

Anchorage at Eilean a’ Phiobaire, Loch Hourn, with seals on the rocks and a volcanic backdrop

After a quiet night we had to time our passage north through the tidal gate of Kyle Rhea, which sends you smartly backwards if you get the timing wrong. Sadly we saw no otters at the well known spot on the left as you go up, but we passed through without incident and passed under the bridge to Skye (I remember my first visits to Skye in the 70s and 80s when it was ferry only).

Sailing under the Skye bridge

Once round, we had a good sail up past Kyle of Lochalsh and round to Plockton, our destination for the night. It is a lovely setting, with sub tropical gardens, a dominating castle and a beautiful anchorage. We picked up a mooring and explored. The photographs give you an idea.

The castle is on the extreme right
The view from the Plockton Hotel, where we had a good meal, starting with…
Haggis with whisky poured over
…and finishing with more of the latter back on board

In the morning it was a bit driech, but we headed off, aiming for Rona but with a potential further destination in mind.

Admin in Plockton: taking on water, taking out refuse, and pumping the dinghy

On passage to Rona we were invited on the radio to skirt around some MOD testing which was going on, which we did happily. We anchored briefly in the delightful Arcarseid Mhor in Rona, but found it a bit crowded (although very beautiful) and so after a cup of tea decided to cross the Little Minch to Loch Seaforth, which is at the top of Harris in the Outer Hebrides. By now the wind had got up, and Seafort is known to funnel the wind beautifully, which it did. After negotiating a large salmon farm at the entrance, which appeared out of the mist, we hived off to port into the relative shelter of Loch Mharaig, to escape the wind and the driving rain.

Anchorage at Loch Mharaig. I’m sure it is pretty but we were just grateful for the shelter…and the anchor held well in some big gusts. The pontoon is one of many in the area for the fish farms
I keep the chartplotter zoomed in when we are settled at anchor, as it gives an immediate indication should we drag (and also has an alarm). Here is the night’s plot after some gusts of 25 knots+ through the night; we barely moved, swinging in a gentle arc as expected. The lines at the bottom were when we set the anchor

The next day the wind continued to howl but we explored up into Loch Seaforth, encountering a gust of 44 knots as we motored back out. We hadn’t seen a great deal of the surrounding mountains either, given the mist, but got a glimpse on the way out.

Motoring out of Seaforth in a strong headwind

We motored around to the next loch, Claidh, and found a wonderful anchorage which gave perfect shelter, with red deer waiting to greet us on the hillside. Eilean Thinngarstaigh is a special place.

The photo doesn’t do justice to the beauty of Eilean Thinngarstaigh, which cuts out the swell of the Little Minch in beautiful surroundings

The next morning the poor weather had passed over, and we decided to sail out to the lovely Shiant Islands, known for their beauty and bird life. They were stunning, and we took the opportunity to stretch our legs, having been rather cooped up at anchor over the previous 48 hrs. Landing at the foot of Garbh Eilean, we climbed up to get a view, and Jonty, Caspar and Paul ascended a ridge to get a fine view over the islands, and of the many puffins and guillemots, amongst others.

We had a fine broad reach out to the Shiants

…admiring the stunning rockfaces and thousands of birds on the water and wing…

...motoring through a sea arch in the dinghy…
…getting close to guillemots…
…and puffins…
and seeing Spellbinder from one angle
and another

They were fabulous islands. Having enjoyed them we then had a broad reach on the other tack to Stornoway, where we were met by old friends James and Dorothy, who looked after us royally. Having entertained them on board the first night, James showed us around part of Lewis the next day and invited us to dine in their lovely house the next.

Spellbinder dressed overall in Stornoway harbour, to mark HM’s official birthday
Carloway Broch – an Iron Age structure
Calanais Standing Stones
Jonty surveying a fine Hebridean beach, and another below

We enjoyed Lewis a great deal – many thanks James and Dorothy.

Our final voyage before heading up further north saw us cross the Minch is some quite lively conditions – a SW wind gusting regularly to Force 7, with two metre seas, with frequent rain. Not for the fainthearted, but entirely tenable when the wind is behind you. We had a fast, if rather damp crossing, entering Loch Laxford and finding a great anchorage in Loch a’ Chadh-fi, where we escaped the wind and swell.

3 reefs in the main and genoa, and reaching fast into Loch Laxford in the mist
Loch a’ Chadh-fi is known for its pink rocks and adventure school

After a quiet night Paul and I dinghied across and were delighted to meet some residents of this really remote place – the road head is a mile and a half away, and everything has to be carried along a steep and rocky path, or brought round by sea. We first met the remarkable Rita, who told us about her life here.

A slightly ‘Swallows and Amazons’ feel to the dinghy landing

Rita, in front of her remarkable and remote cottage, where she has lived with her husband for 30 years, despite the huge logistical challenges

As the owner of a croft, Rita has to keep livestock. This is her front garden

We then headed on and were delighted to meet John and Marie-Christine Ridgway. John was hugely famous in his time as a yachtsman and adventurer, and they have lived on and off in this remote place for 57 years, founding an adventure school which is now run by one of their daughters. They are remarkable people, and we much enjoyed our coffee with them.

John and Marie-Christine
English Rose IV, the yacht John sailed in the famous 1968 Golden Globe race
English Rose VI, a Bowman 57 which has been around the world twice, hauled up to the bottom of the garden

After a wonderful morning we headed back to Spellbinder, and motored round to the last sea loch before Cape Wrath, Loch Inchard, and berthed at Kinlochbervie. Here we await an early morning start, to time the tides right to get to round the Cape and get to Orkney tomorrow.

Kinlochbervie, just south of Cape Wrath. There is a surprisingly large fish factory here

The Small Isles

Back in 1982 when the Falkland Islands were invaded we all reached for our atlases – for there were no Google Maps back then. Most assumed the islands were somewhere north of Scotland, and wondered why the Argentinians were interested. The same geographical ignorance was evident when it was suggested that I should visit the Scottish Small Isles (consisting mainly of Muck, Rum, Eigg and Canna). I had heard of them individually but couldn’t place them. On looking at the map it was clear that they would be an ideal first venture out with my new crew Caspar, and son Jonty.

On leaving Oban we needed somewhere to stay for the first night, and we headed back up the Sound of Mull, largely motoring in calm conditions and a bit of drizzle. Past Tobermory and to the right is the lovely Loch Na Droma Buidhe (more and more Gaelic versions of names appear to be used in the charts) where, coming around a corner, we were met with several other yachts sharing the tranquility.

Entering the murky narrows of Loch Na Droma Buidhe, on a driech June evening
Preparing to go after a quiet first night; seals snorting and cuckoos calling

To get up to the Small Isles necessitates heading up and past Ardnamurchan Point, a slightly totemic landmark for the cruising yachtsman as past it you are in the high north west of Scotland. When passing it on the way back tradition dictates that you append a sprig of heather to your pulpit, to signify your safe return.

Sailing past Ardnamurchan Point and its lighthouse; a slightly notorious landmark that demarcates inshore waters forecasts and pilot books…
Caspar at the helm

Once past this slightly notorious point, and having tried to fish to no avail, we headed to the first of four islands, Muck, for a brief visit. We anchored in the small harbour, had lunch and strolled around corner of the island, flushing out grouse, pheasant, snipe and curlew as we did so.

Muck harbour (above and below). I have avoided puns in this blog.

It was a pleasant stroll, and the island is quiet, with few inhabitants. The next stop was Canna; the entrance into this island is quite spectacular, and after we had picked up a buoy we sat and drank in the view.

Entering Canna Harbour

It was a beautiful evening, and we went ashore by dinghy to explore the foreshore, some of the buildings and the grand house and gardens.

Canna house and gardens
Canna Harbour, looking south
A window on the Atlantic

A wonderful backdrop to wake up to

We had a great walk and drink at the community-run bar, and settled into a calm night surrounded by hills and beauty on all sides. Canna certainly leaves an impression on you, and I will be back.

The next morning we sailed round to Rum, into Loch Scresort and its spectacular surrounds. Like Canna, Rum’s history is interesting: various owners / lairds, some benevolent, some not, and fortunes rising and falling over the decades. These islands seem to be thriving at present, on a very small scale; tourism and fish farming seem to be the main industries and there is very much a sense that investment in the form of Ro-Ro ferry terminals have bought in some prosperity (although the Scottish Government is keen to attribute this to EU funding). There is also a strong sense of community ownership, decision making and cooperative organisation.

Rum is dominated by mountains and has interesting deer and other wildlife bought in by previous generations. You could happily spend a week walking its hills.

Arriving in Loch Scresort, Rum
Looking out at the mooring (above and below)
At last! A viable use for an old phone booth
Coffee at the Rum community shop
A former laird’s baronial castle, now sadly in need of much repair

The final island to visit was Eigg. Dominated by a very distinctive cliff bluff, it was a pleasure to sail down. We entered its small harbour for a quick look around.

The southern shore of Eigg
Spellbinder at anchor in Eigg Harbour

And so ended a brief tour of the Small Isles. They were lovely and next time I will dedicate more time to each, as the walking (weather permitting) is spectacular on each, for different reasons.

Spellbinder headed to Mallaig and to pick up one more crew, and to send Jonty up the mast to try and fix the wind indicator. We have now gone around the east coast of Skye, and plan to head north towards the Outer Hebrides in the coming days.

Sending one’s son up the mast. The process is much easier now I can use a cordless drill with an appropriate bit to do the lifting.

Mulling It Over

Having had a successful trip north, thanks to the sterling efforts of Alan & Alan, I was joined by Sue and Jonty in Whitehaven for a couple of days of family visits and reprovisioning. Jonty stayed with me for the next three days as we made our way up past the Mulls of Galloway and Kintyre to Oban.

Spellbinder leaving Whitehaven – very calm conditions. Photo taken by Sue from the lighthouse.

We had a calm motor over to East Tarbert Bay, a little cove just in the hook of the Mull of Galloway. The passage north is all about getting the tides right, as they run quite ferociously through the North Channel. This meant taking the passage north in 6 hours blocks, which turned out to be 0600-1200 and 1800-midnight. Luckily at this time of year it is very light, and we made the most of it.

Approaching East Tarbert Bay as the sun was setting

We had a very quiet, albeit rather short night and were up at 4am to the dawn, rounding the first mull and heading to our interim destination, Sanda Island, which served as a passage and lunchtime anchorage as we awaited the next fair tide.

Rounding the Mull of Galloway at dawn

Sanda was breezy, with a significant tide race to its south west, even in quite calm conditions. You can see why many people opt for the Crinan Canal rather than head up the Mull of Kintyre. Conditions were settled though, and we caught the first of the fair back eddy which took us close into the peninsula, and kept us heading north at a brisk pace.

Anchorage at Sanda Island, awaiting a fair tide around the Mull of Kintyre
Following the Mull of Kintyre close-to, with the first of the northerly tide

By this time the autopilot, which has had a mind of its own so far this season, was starting the play the game, much to our relief. We carried the tide up past Islay to Jura, where our destination for another short night was Craighouse, which nestles under the Paps of Jura, pimple-like mountains which dominate the small harbour.

Approaching Craighouse, with the Paps clearly visible

The usual mooring buoys had yet to be laid in the harbour, and despite its reputation for being a rather kelp-ridden anchorage we set first time and well, enabling us to blow up the dinghy and head to the Jura Inn for last orders, as well as to buy a bottle of Jura Single Malt. For me it is not quite as peaty as the Islay ones (although certainly of that ilk) and is slightly sweeter.

Another early start beckoned and we were greeted to a magnificent dawn as the sun rose behind the Paps.

0430 in Western Scotland in early June – the light certainly extends the cruising day…

Heading up the Sounds of Jura and Luing, we made fast progress in quite flat waters past the notorious Gulf of Corryvreckan to port and Fladda lighthouse.

Racing past Fladda lighthouse – the fair tide is evident from the lobster pot in the foreground

As we approached Kerrera and Oban, Jonty cooked an immaculate scrambled egg breakfast and all was well with the world. We found a berth in the new Oban transit marina, which is much more conveniently located right in the centre of town. It was here that Sue was to arrive by train later.

Top breakfast Jonty – thank you
Spellbinder in Oban marina

The next day we sailed up the Sound of Mull to Tobermory, which brought back memories of the BBC children’s TV series ‘Balamory’. It’s a beautiful little town, with its signature pastel-coloured houses on the seafront. We enjoyed touring it and had a couple of enjoyable walks to the north and south of the harbour.

Spellbinder in Tobermory ‘dressed overall’ for the anniversary of HM’s Coronation
An imaginative collection box for the lighthouse path – but who carries cash these days?
Rubha nan Gall lighthouse just north of Tobermory
The view over Tobermory, looking south

The next day saw us head to Loch Aline, a beautiful short loch which is enclosed by mainland Scotland. We anchored near the head of the loch, which is overlooked by Ardtornish castle and its 35,000 acre estate, into which Sue and I wandered in the afternoon, undertaking an 8-mile circuit which took us up into some remote Highland territory.

Ardtornish – a typical baronial-looking Scottish castle in my book
View from a mountain bothy
We found deer hooves on the beach of this loch
The electric outboard back in use

Fossils found by Sue

After a night on Aline, we headed back down the Sound of Mull to the north coast of Kerrera, where we sailed past an island full of seals and anchored in a quiet bay to get a walk of the island in. It was lovely – although just a stone’s throw for what counts as urban sprawl in the Western Isles, it seemed delightfully remote.

Highland cow in Kerrera – I have never worked out how they see where they are going…
Spellbinder at anchor in Oitir Mhor Bay. We climbed a local hill to get the view north up the Firth of Lorn
Better days have been seen…
Local enterprise
Wild, what we would call English bluebells everywhere, amongst this year’s emerging bracken
Monument at the NE end of Kerrera island
Young Canada geese. Spellbinder in the background.

Somewhat tired after our walk, we repaired back to Oban, and went out to dinner in a rather good seafood restaurant adjacent to the marina. Sue departed by train this morning, and a new crew member, Caspar arrives this afternoon. We then head to the Small Isles and Skye…and the weather forecast is benign.

Oh – the joys of eating out once more!

Heading North – May 21

The early part of the season has seen Spellbinder engaged in some very sociable and local sailing in the Solent. Thank you to all who came and enjoyed the considerable opportunities afforded between Chichester and Yarmouth. Whenever I have been sailing elsewhere I’m reminded of quite how good and varied a cruising ground the Solent is. The photos below give an idea of what we enjoyed.

A peaceful Newtown Creek (great photo: credit Sean Henry)
Sean and Harriet enjoying a day out
Good to have friend Julian and godson Arthur on board
Some polish applied to Spellbinder’s blue lines
On her home berth, and ready to go

In addition to the sailing, I have finished quite a long list of maintenance tasks. The watermaker has been refurbished; a new stack pack made, and life raft cover; the LED bulbs in the anchor and tricolour masthead have been replaced; the engine serviced; buttons made and replaced on upholstery, and countless other minor jobs. It has been great to have time to do all these. Boats don’t like being left alone, and the pandemic and lockdown have not been their friend.

May 24th was the start of Spellbinder’s summer adventures. Crew for the journey north were the two Alans, who had accompanied me on Atlantic legs and knew Spellbinder well. Our start was delayed somewhat by the unseasonable depressions we experienced in mid May, but it was as the weather moderated that we headed out into a breezy Solent. The first day we managed to get to Studland Bay, where after a rest we continued into a still bumpy, and rather windy English Channel.

Studland Bay rain clouds delivering…
…then clearing

After a few hours’ break we headed off and made bumpy, wet, motor sailing progress to windward, finally pulling into Cawsand Bay, Plymouth for a rest and a night’s sleep. Rising at dawn, in still moderating conditions, we pulled into Penzance to refuel before heading off around Land’s End.

Leaving Cawsand at dawn. We made much use of the Hydrovane, as my Raymarine autopilot is currently having a disagreement with my flux gate compass…

Once round Land’s End, conditions were calm and we had a good passage north. There was enough wind for a brief cruising chute run, but I will remember this part of the passage for the strong tides (we made 10 knots in a fair tide or 2 in a foul, when headlands seemed to stay out for hours) and wildlife. We saw many, many dolphins and porpoises, a solitary seal just by Longships lighthouse, and puffins, gannets and guillemots galore.

Sunset in the Irish Sea…
…followed shortly afterwards by a spring moon rise...
…turning night into day again
Porpoises at dawn
Past Wales, and the final stretch leaving the Isle of Man to port. 9 knots means a 3 knot fair tide…

Five days after leaving Gosport we arrived at Whitehaven in Cumbria. It’s a modern port with a marina, though you need to time it well to pass through the lock. We arrived with an hour to spare, and even had a bit of a night out. It has been a while since I have gorged on poppadoms sitting at a table in an Indian restaurant.

Locking into Whitehaven

Thank you to the two Alans for coming with me on what proved to be more of a delivery trip than a cruise. We are now well set for voyaging north, as planned: next destinations planned are Islay, Oban and the Small Isles, and the weather forecast even looks reasonable…

Break out of lockdown: plans for summer 2021

Now we are formally allowed back onto our boats for day sailing, I have been making the most of the opportunities to conduct routine maintenance. A bit of fine weather and some spring tides allowed me to dry Spellbinder out at Bosham in order to pressure wash her hull, reinvigorate her Coppercoat antifoul and change her prop anodes. Put on in 2017, the Coppercoat continues to give good protection from major fouling and it is only a question of taking off some base slime.

Spellbinder’s Gori prop, fitted with new anodes and burnished to a gleaming gold – thank you Charles!
A beautiful calm day at Bosham – ideal conditions for some hull maintenance

I was accompanied by Jonty and Charles, who did much of the hard work, and we were in the company of Peter and Anabel who did the same to their yacht Sea Jester, and who joined us for supper. Lifting off at the next high tide, we headed back glad to have got this necessary pre-season job out of the way in pleasant circumstances.

There are some further jobs to complete in the next three weeks. Spellbinder’s watermaker has been out for refurbishment, and goes back in shortly; her life raft needs its three-yearly service, and I am having a new stack pack for her mainsail made, which will smarten things up (the old one lasted 15 years before UV light and chafe took its toll).

I intend to sail locally until around 20th May, when Scotland beckons, given that travel to the near continent looks unlikely in the near term. I have been helping out a firm called Imray by buying plenty of charts and pilot books! The plan is to head up to Oban or Mallaig for the end of May to explore Skye and the Small Isles, before heading up to the Outer Hebrides. I’d then like to do a circuit of Shetland and Orkney before returning to Fort William via the Caledonian Canal. I’d dearly like to take in Faroe but wonder whether that will be possible given the circumstances. After Scotland, Ireland beckons.

Charts and pilot books ready for perusal

Autumn 2020 and winter refit plans

Spellbinder has been out and about in the Solent a couple of times, when lockdown has allowed. I was joined for one weekend by Alicia, Emily, Peter and Tom, Squadron Sailing Associates, who came sailing alongside the crew of Gladeye for a tour from Gosport to Cowes and Buckler’s Hard and back. We had some good weather, fine sailing breezes and good fare both in the Castle at Cowes and in the Master Builder’s at Buckler’s Hard. Just prior to the most recent lockdown, Sue and I also went out for a day with great friends Jim and Jo, to have a fine lunch in Cowes.

Fine autumn colours

The new marina at Buckler’s Hard: it has rather overtaken this tranquil spot, but there is now much more walk ashore pontoon

Tom, Peter and Emily enjoying traditional Spellbinder fare

Sailing down the Solent into a fine sunset

With Sue, Jim, Jonty and Jo, thrashing westward. We had a more genteel sail back to Gosport under genoa alone – as is so often the case

With the weather becoming less amenable, I plan a mini refit on Spellbinder over the winter. In addition to the routine matters of engine servicing, and safety equipment checks, I have removed the genoa / staysail travellers for servicing, I am having the watermaker overhauled, I have removed the material from the navigator’s seat to get new buttons made, I am having a new zip holder placed on the new spray hood to allow for a solar panel, I need to repair an LED on the engine panel to re-show engine hours, and I shall replace the stack pack. We should be good to go next March, Covid willing.

New bolts and rubbers for the traveller system…

…and new buttons have arrived.  I will need to get the navigator’s seat reupholstered in a suitable material, but I can now replace several of the saloon cushion buttons, which have corroded.

Back from the West Country – September 20

Spellbinder has returned to Gosport, a couple of months from leaving there in early July when we were finally allowed to cruise and stay aboard overnight. While not going abroad (I missed the window when we were briefly allowed to go to continental Europe without quarantining) it has, on the other hand, been an enjoyable time during which I was able to re-visit at length many of my favourite West Country cruising haunts.

I returned to Dittisham, where I had left her, and before the arrival of the next crew had an enjoyable time doing various boat jobs and walking and exploring, and anchoring upriver. I also took her round to Brixham to remind myself of the town and its fishing heritage.

One of my favourite views above Dittisham, overlooking Galmpton Creek and across to Greenway

Near Stoke Gabriel

The remains of a Brixham Sailing Trawler called ‘The Glory’

Spellbinder at a quiet anchorage near Bow Creek on the Dart.  A short dinghy ride up the creek is an excellent pub at Tuckenhay called ‘The Malster’s Arms’, once owned by Keith Floyd. The food there is excellent

Crew for the leg home were Alan and Rupert.  We met in Dartmouth, Rupert having come down by steam train from Paignton – a fine way to arrive. After a swift drink at The Ferry Boat at Dittisham – a classic Dart pub – we turned in for the night, anchoring in Parson’s Mud, just upriver from The Anchorstone. Parson’s Mud is a delightful anchorage, and it is not hard to fall asleep and wake up there to the sounds of the river gurgling by and the many birds.