24 June 2011 | Rabat Morocco
20 May 2011 | Faro lagoons, Portugal
24 August 2009 | Bangor, Northern Ireland
31 July 2009 | Arisaig, Lochaber, West Scotland
09 April 2009 | Camaret-sur-Mer, Bretagne, NW France
04 March 2009 | Camaret, Port du Notic
25 January 2009 | Camaret-sur-Mer, Bretagne, NW France
13 January 2009 | Camaret-sur-Mer, Bretagne, NW France
04 January 2009 | Camaret-sur-Mer, Bretagne, NW France
Passage from Spain to Morocco
24 June 2011 | Rabat Morocco
Lou
Well we arrived in Moroccan waters on Monday, and its Friday already!
The sail from Cadiz in SW Spain was good; we were both excited by the thought of venturing towards a whole new continent - our first new continent on our adventure... we felt like real explorers! So excitement, mixed with a little anxiety - a night passage is never something to take lightly. This was my first night passage in over a year, and a solo night watch in new waters is enough to put shivers up your spine. Plus with demonstrations due to be held across Morocco that day (as the King has just announced a new constitution following major demonstrations recently) we weren't quite sure what would await us on arrival at Rabat - you know, the seat of Moroccan parliament, where the King lives! Nevertheless, we had a nice breeze from the NNW, so we poled out the genoa and settled into our 2-hour watch system.
As sunset approached we could see something akin to Blackpool Tower illuminations off in the distance... bit strange we thought, nothing marked on the chart... checked the AIS, which indicated a tug about 8 miles to the south of us, directly in our path, going extremely slowly - it was listed as 'engaged in tow'. Ah, it'll be towing something then. As we got closer, we realised the massive, lit structure was an exploration oil rig... oh, Lordy. The tug was still showing on our predicted path, moving ever so slowly east to west, and we're charging south. Colin goes down for some shut-eye (it is his off-watch) and I keep a watch on the tug. After 30 mins, it's clear that we're going to have to dismantle the poled-out genoa and gybe, to make sure we don't (a) run into the tug ('restricted in his ability to manoeuvre'), or (b) get our mast decapitated by some tow-line linking the tug to the rig. Neither the rig nor any of the flashing lights are marked on the chart, so we're thinking if this really is a tow (even though the tug is hardly moving), we've got to manoeuvre around behind it. It's dark by now, and more flashing lights are starting to come into view surrounding the rig. There are numerous trawlers fishing along the parallel contours to the west of us, so were trying to work out what on earth each of these pin-pricks of light ahead of us mean. I've got my well-thumbed 'Reeds Sailing Handbook' out, flicking through the navigational lights pages...
[As an aside, we really do take our visual ability for granted - as soon as it gets dark, you lose full-use of one of your most important senses, and it can be very disorientating.] The moon wasn't due to be up for a few hours, so it occurs to us how much we really rely on people using the right navigation lights (which they don't), and keeping their distance (which we always try to do!).
Anyway, we approach, not quite knowing what we're letting ourselves in for, and this turns out to be a massive operational drilling rig, and the 'tug' is not towing, but an offshore support vessel. We pass 1.5 miles to the west of the rig, which feels very close when it's so huge and lit up like a Christmas tree. Why on earth did the AIS info on the support vessel state it was a tug, that was engaged in towing? Just goes to show you can't rely on nautical charts, and you can't rely on electronic navigational aids, you can only rely on your senses - however dysfunctional they might be!
In the end, no harm done whatsoever, but we were glad to get the rig, its ships and all its flashing palaver behind us. We could then settle back to our watch system and only have the trawlers to worry about!
And what a lot of trawlers there were... how can there be enough fish for all these fishing machines?
We were lucky enough to be visited by several pods of common dolphins during the night. At sunrise we were rushed by a pod numbering well over one hundred, but they didn't take any notice of us, they were on a mission likely a feeding mission. Sadly, once they'd gone, I couldn't stop questioning why on earth we continue to be oblivious to the effects our actions are having on the marine ecosystem. Reckless extraction of everything, both under-sea and under-seabed, and thereby affecting not only the food chain but also marine species ability to adapt to an increasingly changing environment.
Sailing through the night and experiencing a welcome rising sun after a long passage does that to you. You've made it through the night, and you want all to be well with the world... I'll get off my soap-box now, they become quite unsteady at sea.
Sailing where the fish fly
20 May 2011 | Faro lagoons, Portugal
Lou
We relaunched Pélerin about two weeks ago, and it has been superb being back on the water, anchoring in secret spots, gently rocking with the waves and feeling a sense of freedom again. A few shake-down sailing days helped us ensure that the boat was working fine, and that the few little jobs we got on with over winter were holding tight. Big thanks to the guys at the Sopromar boatyard in Lagos; not the cheapest of outfits, but the standard of work and attention to detail is impressive. And working on the boat in the yard also gave us the chance to meet a lovely American couple, Dick and Ginger who have sailed extensively on their boat Alchemy.
The sailing since our relaunch has been wonderful, and we're switching between all our sails to give them all a good airing (and remembering the various hoisting quirks of each). We saw our first flying fish - they're the weirdest things, looking like a gliding crucifix, but with feet. All very strange... It's comforting to notice how well myself and Colin are once again predicting what the other does, and sometimes at the right time too! Although we're a little rusty after 6 months of very little sailing, it shows that we've been building up good partnership sailing miles in the last few years (especially now we're not surrounded by a gaggle of survey volunteers eager to pull the right rope whilst trying not to get trampled upon).
So these are good times indeed. But frustratingly, an extended spell of easterly winds and the need to wait for our outboard motor to be fixed, has forced us to sit around in Vilamoura marina for longer than anticipated. Although the people here are great, the shelter good, and the curries at Lakhsmi amazing, the resort is rather built up, a little bit bling, and there are far too many drunken Brits crawling between the bars, looking the most unlikely fitness fanatics in their branded sports outfits with beer and ketchup down their football-shirts. The upside to being forced to remain static for a few days is that we've been able to catch up on some work and admin chores, and also get a chance to use the fold-up bikes generously presented to us by some cruising friends we met in Lagos, Brad & Diane (...obrigada!) on their yacht Riviera Magic. I think I need some go-faster stripes to fit to the side of my bike, that might help...
But a sense of frustration is building. The need to move on is a strong one. Less developed, gorgeous locations are calling loudly: in the short term, none more so than the Guadiana River, marking the southern boundary between the Algarve and Andalucia. This narrow sliver of water snaking its way inland is famed for quiet anchorages, time-forgotten villages and wonderful birdlife. We'll get there soon.
This morning we cast off our lines and bid adios to Vilamoura. After motoring in light winds first thing, and spotting a pod of bottlenose dolphins breaching in the bay (who then came over to see us), we had a great sail with the cruising chute (the one with the basking shark) and are now anchored (bliss!) somewhere in the lagoons just south of Faro. It's another day's sail eastwards to reach the mouth of the Guadiana, so we might aim to get there for Sunday night, winds allowing. That'll also give us a day or two to potter around the sand-bars and marshes of the lagoon here. Exactly what weekends were made for!
Quick post - Lagos it is
13 October 2010 | Lagos
Lou (Falmouth)
A quick entry to get back into the spirit of posting...
And to announce to the world that Pelerin is in Lagos, Portugal! (Wish I was...)
Colin and Ronnie had a great potter down the coast from Cascais, where I left them. They had far too good a time without me. More soon...
Heading south (slowly)
24 August 2009 | Bangor, Northern Ireland
Lou - sunny would you believe!
Left a very windy and wet Tobermory about a week ago, and via a few hours kip in Jura (Craighouse = v.midgey!) headed across the North Channel southwards. Got as far as Glenarm, and was so peaceful we just slept and slept. We are faced with an extended period of southerlies - which is exactly where we aiming to get to. Hence this is going to be a long hard slog, making the most of any weather windows that happen to sneek through. We had such a gap (SW instead of S, and 10-16 knots instead of 17-25) two days ago, and made it down to Bangor in Belfast Lough. Don't do marinas, so feeling a bit out of sorts - and boy, do they know how to charge for the privilege... £2/m. So hope we won't be here too long. another few hours of weather window perhaps tomorrow morning with the tide in the right direction for us, so hopefully will at least get us into the patch of Irish Sea where the tides don't control things as much (with it being a massive spring tide at the mo, it's a bit limiting...). so quick sign off now, but more soon.
Fair winds
Lou
Free in the Sea of the Hebrides
31 July 2009 | Arisaig, Lochaber, West Scotland
Lou
We've now been up in the western isles and waters for nearly a month and we've had some fantastic sailing... Colin had Mick on board to do the delivery of Pelerin from Cork up to Scotland (with Lou sciving off to a meeting in Paris for the week). They both did fantastically well on the long passage north, and had a ball!
Then with Lou back, and Mick heading back south by train, Guy and Ronnie joined us for a whirl around the islands. We managed 200 miles in 5 days taking in Sandaig Islands, Loch Nevis, Canna, Barra in the Outer Hebrides and Loch Scresort on Rum before heading back in to Arisaig. What a fantastic week, with Force 4's and 5's all week.
The following week was back to Colin and myself, looking to get a bit further afield and seek out those shark sites not covered in previous survey years. The weather was not ideal for shark spotting, with winds of Force 5 and 6 taking up the majority of the week - but all meant for a cracking weeks sail! We ventured to new grounds around SW Skye, staying in a beautiful spot in Loch Bracadale, then off Neist Point spotting our first minke whales of the year. Then across the Minch, to North Uist in the Outer Hebrides, with two reefs in the main and yankee - exciting sail. We landed at Loch Maddy, and what a gorgeous place. With the sun out the next morning, it was time to head further north and find ourselves some sharks - the old shark hunters spoke about good areas around the eastern Sound of Harris and up to Scalpay, but we were not so lucky, not seeing any sharks or cetaceans. But we did have a fantastic encounter with a Skua (Bonxie) attacking a Black Back Gull. The gull was trying to use our mainsail as cover, in a desperate attempt to shake off the Skua, who was not deterred in the slightest, but we got an amazing view of the relentlessness of the Bonxie. Fierce little devil, pecking at the back of Gulls neck in flight until the Gull would give up its breakfast... sounds gruesome, but it was brilliant to see. Colin managed to get some great close-up images, whilst I stood there aghast at what we were seeing, just a few metres from us. If I'd have had any sense, I'd have picked up the video camera which we had under the sprayhood in the advent of seeing sharks, but I was just in awe of what we were seeing!
The Shiants came closer into view, and we were seeing literally hundreds of puffins in the water and flapping past us - neither I nor Colin had ever seen so many before. Lets hope the sandeel populations are sufficient enough to sustain these numbers.
No sharks were seen, so we turned to head back to North Uist, but the rocky mountains of Harris and Lewis further north were beckoning - this was my furthest north sailing, and I was loving it! The chance to explore these seas, where most people wouldn't even think to venture out to, is exactly the kind of sailing I want to do. I have no need of racing around marks in harbour, or jousting for position with other yachts in crowded bays - give me the open spaces, masses of fresh air, good sailling winds, only nature for company... this is where I belong.
With gales approaching we decided to head back across the fickle waters of the Minch, and aimed for Loch Dunvegan on western Skye. We continued around the north-west, then north of Skye, keeping a careful eye out for fins, but it was not our shark day. The mountains and basalt stacks of northern Skye are simply wonderful, and only hint at the geological turmoil this area faced millions of years ago.
We headed into Portree on eastern Skye, and slept, a lot! However, the northerly winds certainly came up as promised over night. Heading through the Kyle of Lochalsh we were treated to an episode of virtually no wind, then Force 7's as we headed south down the Sound of Sleat. Pelerin was loving the blast down the Sound - she really does make for smooth riding with the wind on your quarter. We were just hanging on and enjoying the ride.
We headed back into Arisaig, pinching ourselves for the luck we'd had this week - no sharks and not many cetaceans but what exhilarating seas and winds, and our lovely boat that took it all in her stride... what a life!!!
In geographical limbo
13 May 2009 | Falmouth
Lou
Made it safely back north across the English Channel - great night crossing. Wonderful cumulonimbus building all around us. Now we're back in Falmouth, it seems weird as we'd "left" but are now back. Great to see friends again and catching up on news, and all the chores of banks, dentists, emergency mock duck, etc!
Have been nose to the grindstone on a few work projects - big deadlines coming. Also had Pèlerin out of the water for a few days to antifoul, check anodes (surprisingly ok!), and check her over. Great couple of days sailing out in Falmouth Bay and beyond last weekend; certainly blew away a few cobwebs. We're handling the boat really well between us, and getting used to what the other does during manoeuvres, so the big winds and gusts have been good for us to shake off some of those rusty spots.
But come the start of June, we'll be sailing around the Lizard with our noses pointed north towards our next destination - the Sea of the Hebrides, west Scotland. With the forecast we're seeing at the moment, we could even make it around the western coast of Ireland... That'll be a first, and we're both hopeful, but May/June fine weather can be very very fickle, so we might yet get another trip up the Irish Sea if it all goes pear-shaped. That's fine, but not as exciting as west of Ireland!!!
All will be revealed.