From the Tyne
12 October 2017 | Yorkshire coast
Force 5 S/W backing South.
I had a good night's sleep on Tuesday. I heard halyards on other boats banging against masts in the strong breeze, but Marica was quiet from that incessant thumping due to both ends of the main halyard being tied to the guard rails. Super!
I spent Wednesday sorting out various boat tasks. No sign of my VHF radio and I checked Mark hadn't picked it up. I can only think I may have untied it from by life jacket and left it just clipped on rather than put it in the cockpit. Untying or tying up must have dislodged it and I failed to notice the splash. It must have dropped overboard in the 50m or so from the waiting pontoon to the lock. Bummer! I looked at replacements on line and found a reasonable offer in Newcastle. They don't keep them at the shop and wouldn't match another on line offer I'd seen but can deliver next day when I have a berth for a day or two in a row.
Wednesday night's drink was Diet Coke. £2.00 for barely a half and 0%. Rather sickly sweet coloured water and not really a session drink. I had felt a bit rubbish in the morning and it was not a pleasant potty stop. Maybe a dodgy peanut the night before?
Thursday's forecast looked like the best weather was in the middle of the day. I left the marina at 10 am, the optimum time for the 25 mile trip to Hartlepool. The harbour dries so I wanted to arrive after low tide. The lock at Royal Quays marina has a floating pontoon that gets rid of the need to lengthen and shorten mooring lines as the lock drains and fills. What a good idea.
Emerging from the mouth of the Tyne and heading South again I was pleased to see a distinct lack of lobster pots. The sea was slight to start with, and the wind from a lovely South Westerly direction. I looked at the option to get to Whitby. I'd left a bit late and there were strong wind warnings that would probably come in around 5pm, and the wind was due to back to South. The tides were not playing ball either and would be against until late afternoon.
Around noon conditions looked fairly stable so I backed two horses. I set a course for Whitby directly across the bay. This would have Marica about 7 miles off the coast from Hartlepool if conditions changed, but gave the realistic prospect of Whitby on Thursday. Friday looked rubbish and I was happy not to spend an extra day in port with the monkey hangers.
By 3 pm we were mostly committed to Whitby. It had started to get as lumpy as my porridge and George was struggling to cope. We wouldn't be able to get into the marina until 8pm as the swing bridge only opens 2 hours either side of high water. At quarter past three George started making screeching noises and wouldn't steer. So back to a combination of Marshall helming and lashing the tiller to go below, take down sails, and rig fenders and lines.
Coming into Whitby there are some great views of an old ruined Abbey on a prominent hill. No answer from the harbour master or marina. I could tie up at the Fish Pier pontoon, but I thought I'd also have a look at the yacht club pontoon that may have some spaces. It did, but someone on the other side of the river Esk pointed at the Fish Pier, so we went for that. The problem with this pontoon is that you are not supposed to leave your boat while waiting for the bridge in case a fishing boat or other vessel needs to use it. I took a chance and strode through the cobbled streets up to the marina to see where we could berth. Not much room for this time of year and the pontoons need a fob to get back on. Perhaps I'd have to use the rub-a-dub.
Back on the boat I tried calling a few numbers for advice. No answer from the harbour master, marina or yacht club. I could move on to the yacht club pontoon, but that is not attached to the shore so would also need the dinghy there. I called the bridge just before first opening and asked if was OK to stay on the pontoon overnight. Aye, no problem. Super, now off to explore the town. Tomorrow has strong winds so I'll move in to the marina and stay for another day.
The photo is of the sunset as we arrived at Whitby, that's another 45 miles under the belt.