48 35.967N:004 33.678W
L'Aber Wrac'h.
Three sides of a square today with a forecast W 4/5, and the spring tide with us all the way. First beating out of the Goulet de Brest for a couple of hours, arriving at the Pointe St. Mathieu just as the tide turns northwards. Then a lovely reach up the Chenal du Four at 7/8 kn, then a run past Portsall, and finally SE into Aber Wrac'h. Rough water with wind against tide coming out of Brest, and again off Portsall with a bit of Atlantic swell, but that's two of the three big tidal gates on the way back negotiated. The pic shows the Pointe de St. Mathieu where you turn right to go up the Chenal. It probably looks quite boring, but it's exciting if you're being swooshed round by a spring tide so insistent that you couldn't turn back if you didn't like the look of it.
There's an interesting exercise in weather forecasting tonight. I have 3 forecasts, all astonishingly different: one says E 3/4 all day, one says SW 7, and one says E veering S to SW. This is the one I favour, as there's a low off Finisterre, passing by here tomorrow into the English Channel, and that's what you'd expect. As that means rain all day and we can't possibly get our designer foulies all wet, we shall stay put and order some sun for Thursday. Wet ropes are murder to one's moisturising regime.
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We're blockaded in Brest by 2 low pressure systems making the Chenal du Four a bit too taxing for us. There were 25 kn of wind in the marina yesterday and the beating of unfrapped halyards against aluminium masts sounded like a Ukrainian percussion section on speed, trying to play the samba but getting it all wrong. It needed my spoons player to make sense of it all. It usually starts with one, setting up a promising rhythm that invites cooperation, but then the rest of them start and some of them don't get it. When the rigging in the marina starts howling like a cartoon wolf at full moon it's time to start looking at the cinema schedules.
The pic is of a 100 ft Spirit called Gaia moored just along from us. The after deck is the size of a football pitch, and the fenders are held on with leather-covered clamps which I think have her name engraved on them. But as it's pelting down with rain, I'm not walking along to check. In the bqsin there are also 2 white ensigns, and a trimaran the size of a reasonably long-distance spaceship. So if I manage to blag an aperitif tonight I trust it will be in a proper glass. Possibly served by a waiter in a white coat who's run away to sea after an embarrassing incident with a client involving diving equipment, a pet chihuaha and some ostrich-feather baggywrinkles. You do meet all sorts at sea.
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48 22.669N 004 29.212W
Brest
We had some entente cordiale and some discordiale this morning. We were in Audierne, planning to leave at 0630 to take the Raz de Sein at the time recommended in Reeds, when a reasonably amiable piece of French tupperware rafted up outside us. We explained that we were leaving at 0630, but they assured us that they were also taking the Raz and that the right time to leave was 0730, HW+4, which seemed to us to leave too little water in the channel out.
So instead of insisting on our time, I agreed, fretted all night about going aground, and then started making leaving noises at 0700. They were great, slipped their lines, led us out with 1m under our keel, and we were off. Goosewinged Genoa lollop to the point, (beating the French easily because they didn't have a pole and had to gybe down) flopped round the point with hardly any tidal effects, avoiding all of the 5 enormous lighthouses, and we'd sailed round, just.
At that point the wind turned cold, the skies clouded over, and the whole scene assumed that milky grey haze which is so frequent in North Brittany. As if to bring home to us that the sunny south was a memory, and we should break out the sweaters and foulies which we haven't touched for a month. Don't want to go north.
The pic is of dawn this morning in Audierne. Lovely place, which I've now been to often enough to be on first name terms with the moustachioed proprietor of the internet café. I suppose we are quite good if occasional customers.
In Brest with us qre Fawn of Chichester, a Welsh boat that was in the Gulf with us, and 2 of the Vendee Globe boats. Difficult for a fair weather bimbler like me to imagine how such a vast beast can be handled by one person.
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Audierne.
Still lucky with the wind. Barrelling along today at over 6 kn in a NE 4/5 on a beam reach. Cruising like this when the wind is good is hypnotic. We get through about one chart a day, and one section of Reeds a week. Get up, breakfast, sail, lunch, sail, snooze, sail, arrive, berth. The next thing is usually paying at the Capitainerie, but as we've been guests of the Semaine du Golfe we haven't had to pay for the last month. May not have to tonight if the Harbour Master doesn't show up. Then passage plan for next day, beer, supper, take some advice from South Coast Brit yachtie types with blue ensigns, posh accents and bored wives, bed and start again tomorrow. We never take a day off unless the wind or sea state is hopeless.
Tomorrow is the Raz de Sein which we got a bit wrong on the way down, but we have to get there at 0915 precisely or the whirlpool of fate will swallow us up.
The pic shows the new clubhouse for the French section of the CSC. It has its own vineyard, vegetable garden and orchard, plus a sheltered mooring for the new 12m yawl we will be getting for next season. Book early to avoid disappointment.
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We came back on Marcita after a week off, and it was wonderful to find her sitting there quietly waiting for the return trip.
Three days later we think the Gulf must want to be rid of us, because we've had downwind sailing now for 3 days in a row. First we floated down from Vannes, out into the bay and back into Crouesty on Monday. Neaps and wind with tide, so no dramatic tidal tango. So nice was it that we reached up and down the bay for an hour just for the pleasure of a perfect wind on a sunny afternoon.
Then yesterday we had a NE 4 to take us NW to Lorient, and we were roaring along at 5.5 to 6 kn, shirts off in an attempt to achieve that youthful honey bloom. As if. Passing yachties averted their gaze.
Now today we have a dead run to Loctudy, and as I write the asymmetric is goosewinged and we are floating along in a F3. Marcita is gurgling pleasurably, and occasionally hissing if we try a spot of surfing.
The pic shows the island of Houat, pronounced Hwat. And yes we wrote the lymerics, and no I'm not going to put them on the blog, but you can hear them if you buy me a pint at the Butt and Oyster later on. Houat and Hoedic are just opposite the gulf, tiny islands with tiny hamlets on them. (They breed them for the RSC apparently.) We moored there briefly for lunch on our way, but so lethargic is this downwind lark that we couldn't even raise the strength to blow up the rubber duck and row ashore. We waved amiably.
I seem to be short of crew for next week, so if you're reading this and fancy a few days of glorious sailing and French food, text me on 07762 725 645. We're hoping to reach Brest by the weekend (June 6-7) and you'd be welcome even if you haven't done much sailing. It will be the North Coast of Brittany and the Channel Islands.
A bientot.
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I've just remembered a giggle episode. In French on the VHF you say 'a' and 'du' for the boat names, so for example 'a Caressa Caressa du Marcita, Marcita'.
So If your boat name's Bidou, as one is in the Morbihan, you have to say 'a XXX XXX du Bidou Bidou'. And boy did he enjoy that joke.
It's the nautical version of
'To do is to be' J J Rousseau
'To be is to do' J P Sartre
'Dobedobedo' Frank Sinatra
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