Stars and hallucinations.
We left L'Aber Wrac'h hoping for a big tidal lift as the water swirls round Cape Finisterre. But it didn't show up. We wanted to go to Plymouth, which is NE, but of course so was the wind. So we decided to sail best course to windward and see where we got. We could sail the course for Falmouth, so decided on that, and had 8 hours close hauled in 15 kn of wind. It was exhilarating keeping her in the groove for that long.
The forecast was E 3 to 4 during the night, but it didn't change - merely dropped a bit. So we started considering Fowey, which was due north. Being new moon springs it was a dark night, and the panoply of God's daisy chain spread across the sky (P.G. Wodehouse). We steered by the Pole star,imagining we were following in the wake of Drake and co. Sailing at night brings on fantasies, but not the hallucinatory kind that you get from snatched half hours of sleep while anxious about the passage. I dreamt we were sailing straight into the open doors of a suburban garage with a big tree behind it. And that a large container ship we had just avoided in the Channel had turned round in order to run us over. And that I had spilt porridge on the computer, so the blog would in future be in Rab C Nesbitt's accent, and need subtitles. Talk about making love to a rattlesnake.
Anyway, at 0530 the wind did go east and picked up so we could make Plymouth after all. We had a close reach, screaming along (for us) at 6.5 kn. It was fantastic - really enjoyable sailing in what you can see was a beautiful dawn. 120 miles in 25 hours, most of it beating, isn't too bad for us.
After we'd tied up in Plymouth and had a kip, we walked up onto Plymouth Hoe and saw but couldn't get onto the bowling green. But looking out over the bay it was easy to imagine Drake there, knowing that he only had to chase the Armada along the Channel. Perhaps he could even see them, but his fleet would have looked glorious in the bay. And there is a huge 'what if'. The Armada was ordered to pick up an invasion army in France, not to attack the British fleet direct. But when they arrived Drake was hemmed in by the tide, and if Medina Sidonia had sailed straight into Plymouth he might have been able to destroy the whole British fleet on a lee shore. Then we'd all have been speaking Spanish until 1944, when we'd have switched to German. Just as well, really.
It's funny that you have to tie up boats. Dogs yes, because they'd run away, but you'd think boats should be free to go where they are blown. Don't be silly.
Marcita will be doing a little bimbling with other club members until the BCYC Regatta in Cowes in 2 weeks.
A bientot.
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L'Aber Wrac'h.
We'd spent most of yesterday at 45 degrees, and whenever I pass a ship like the one in the pic, I wish I was on a boat that doesn't heel so much. Auk's owner claims you can leave a glass on a varnished table when close hauled and it won't move.
Our problem for tomorrow is crossing the Channel. The forecast is NE 3/4 for two days, and Plymouth, where we want to go, is too close to the wind to be pleasant, so we're going to try for Falmouth. But with leeway and downwind tides, I bet we'll end up beating. And the traffic. And the swell. The only way to go sailing is to wait for the wind. But we can't.
This morning a little chain of yellow-sailed tiny dinghies like optimists was towed out into the river. The children on board were all 8 - 10, giggling, and the procession looked like a duck with her ducklings. Because the children round here all start sailing at that age, it's no surprise that the Bretons breed so many great ocean single-handers.
Wish little Marcita well amongst the supertankers during the night.
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Lighthouses and cardinals.
The Raz de Sein with its great reputation can be benign, and if the wind hadn't been on the nose all the way through, it would have been so for us. The strong northerlies recently have meant that the south-going tides are much stronger than the north-going ones, so we had hardly any lift until we rounded Portsall, could sail the course, and had a blissful 3 hour reach into l'Aber Wrac'h. Marcita has sailed this coast three times now, so we're in the harbourmaster's computer, and are greeted warmly everywhere. L'Aber Wrac'h gets the Gold Wifi (pronounced weefee) award for being free and effective, unlike Orange France who should be prosecuted for fraud.
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Audierne to Camaret.
This is getting very predictable. We left Audierne on a beam reach, but round the first cardinal we were close hauled and then when we turned round the Pointe de Penmarc'h we were close hauled on the other tack. We had a slight hiccup when we failed to pick out a north cardinal against the dark cliffs, and mistook for it the next south cardinal which was missing its topmark, but we recognised our mistake in time. Auk, our companion for the last few days, a big wooden ketch, went miles out to sea on a close reach in order to come back through the Raz on one tack, succeeding beautifully, was whisked through the dodgy bit at 8 kn and arrived in Camaret an hour after us without having turned on his engine. We fed him a boat-cooked cassoulet to reward him, and it wasn't too bad, considering.
A brisk evening walk in hot sun and cold wind to a dolmen in the shape of a cross, the obligatory nightcap in the harbour bar, and we're reconciling ourselves to the end of a great trip, and psyching ourselves up for the Channel slog.
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Starting back.
I think I must be paying for all the fun we've had at the two regattas. We left Benodet in thickish fog, which we thought would lift, and the wind soon picked up to a lovely beam reach. I said to Richard that this couldn't last, and of course it didn't. After the first turn it was on the nose, and stayed there all the way round the Pointe de Penmarc'h following the curve of the headland. A sudden fierce gust persuaded us to put in a couple of reefs, and we motorsailed into Audierne.
The forecast for the next two days is strong NW, and guess which direction we want to go - NW and then N. We can take the Raz de Sein at slack water, but we can't take the Chenal du Four against the tide, so if we go it will be horrible wind against tide, and even when we reach Portsall, although it will be a reach, strong winds always produce rough conditions there. I don't want to whinge after having had such a good time, but I'm going to anyway. Following that looks like the centre of a big high, with no wind. A reasonable wind god would include favourable in the alternatives of unfavourable or none.
No interest pics in the fog, so here's a race start.
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Day Three.
A long race today, with a nice SE 4/5 and we made a great start. But by the end of the upwind leg we were towards the back, and by the end, the penultimate boat had overtaken us shortly before the finish. Never mind. A beautiful day, the bay looking fantastic, and the fleet spread all over the sea. An enjoyable moment, 15 minutes after the start, was seeing Ninita going against the direction, apologising on the radio for starting late, and still finishing high up the list. It really is the most wonderful sight which I keep droning on about having all the French classics together. They're all family, based on the Musee Maritime at La Rochelle, and very welcoming to the three British boats here: Ninita, Pazienza and us, somewhat the junior participant. It's been the most incredible fun, the weather has been brilliant, and as the boats leave the marina we wave them goodbye in the hopes of seeing them here next year.
We've got to hurry north, because there are SW for the next two days, but then Nlies. I beat all the way here, and will NOT beat all the way back.
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