English Channel Sailing:
17th - 26th August 2002
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English Channel Sailing: 17th - 26th August 2002 |
| PART ONE Before I begin to describe the English Channel sail, I ought to mention that it had run the risk of being cancelled. Several folk had withdrawn from the trip as they had begun to question the methods of the skipper, as I had been led to believe, which had shocked and surprised me. As I subsequently discovered, there are always two sides to the story. I may not fully understand the dynamics as to what had transpired on the Cowes week race the week before, where, if one is sailing competitively in a race, hairline decisions will inevitably be made, if one is to attempt to gain the maximum from any situation. Regarding this particular sailing trip, though, where we were clearly not sailing competitively. I wish to state for the record that, though I may hardly be regarded as an experienced sailor, at no stage did I feel that our safety was being compromised or that I felt I was at risk. Indeed, I was thoroughly impressed with the detail and level of competence with which each stage of the course was prepared by the skipper and navigation team and I would want to sail with them again! Day 1 – Saturday 17th August I had received word that we were in no rush to set sail on the Saturday, so I left in order to be there around 10h00 or 11h00 in the morning. The weather was good and hot. I encountered the usual heavy traffic during the drive to Lymington near Southampton, particularly in the vicinity of the New Forest. I met the rest of the crew, these being Geoff’s 22-year old son, Mathew, his daughter Julia and the now-retired Tony Ashcroft, a keen sailor himself. Whilst running through the systems and safety brief, it transpired that we were getting no gas through to the gas cooker. A decision was made to replace the entire system. A list of materials was drawn up and whilst these parts and fittings were being acquired, Mathew and I stripped out the old system. Provisions were taken on board. We set sail at about 18h00 under relatively calm conditions but with the Genoa up we were doing all of 5 knots with the wind almost a tail wind. I was at the helm for a while. We reached Cowes on the Isle of Wight at about 20h30 and moored alongside adjacent vessels. The priority was to go ashore for fish and chips for dinner, downed with a good dosage of red wine, courtesy of Tony, the wine connoisseur. The planning for the following few days began in earnest, with the result that we only turned in at midnight. Day 2 – Sunday 18th August The alarm was set for 7h30. Of course I had been blamed for deliberately stuffing the wellies down at my end of the bunk, so that no-one could get to throw one at me in the course of the night, as the "saw mills" worked overtime. Mathew lost an ear-plug in the course of the night, so his Dad and I were not popular. I was led to believe that whilst his Dad’s snoring was consistent, mine was louder. After a shower and bacon and eggs breakfast, we left port at about 9h30. It was calm, with no wind to speak of, so we ran on engines and motored down the Solent, skirting the Isle of Wight coastline to Ryde, before crossing the Solent towards Southsea and Portsmouth harbour entrance. Bear in mind that despite the lack of wind, account is still taken of the tides, in order to determine departure and arrival times, course etc. The plan was that we were going to check out the Cutty Sark tall Ships races which had returned to Portsmouth for the Queen’s Golden Jubilee, having last been held here in 1977, during the Silver Jubilee. Portsmouth is the final port in the race series that begins in Alicante. Riggers, ketches and sloops from over twenty nations as far apart as Mexico, Russia, Australia and Scandanavia were berthed in the harbour, which was a hive of activity. Hundreds of smaller sailing vessels, motor boats, ferries crowded the harbour entrance to get a view of the majestic vessels of a bygone era. Crowds massed like ants thronged the Portsmouth shores to catch a glimpse. Today saw us witness what was the culmination of the event, the spectacular parade of sail as the beautiful ships say farewell to the harbour. As we sailed in, we were stunned quite suddenly by the instantaneous roar of overhead jet engines. For the next half an hour, the RAF Red Arrows team thrilled the crowds with a spectacular aerobatics display. It was an unbelievable experience! We the followed the ships out before turning around and sailing back in. We watched in awe as the crew moved swiftly up the masts to set the sails. Half the crew on board must be aged between 15 and 25 years. We tried to get as close as the organisers and harbour police would allow us, in order to get some photographs. We moored at Haslar Marina, Gosport for the night. I recalled this oft-mentioned name from my late grandfather’s memoirs, realising that he had left from the Naval Dockyard shores en route to the front during the war of 1914 to 1917. Gosport acquired its name at the end of the 12th Century, according to legend, originally named as "God’s Port". We enjoyed a drink aboard the Lightship Mary Mouse II bar and restaurant, where later, we also showered. The shower facilities aboard this vessel are indeed excellent! Mathew and I took a harbour ferry across at dusk to catch a closer glimpse of the Tall Ships in berth at the Naval Base and Gun Wharf quays but unfortunately the entrance was being shut, as is typical for most things in England! After the shower, we turned in at 22h00. The next day would see us make an early start. Day 3 – Monday 19th August A decision was made that the primary crew consisting of Geoff, Mathew and Tony would arise at 4h00 for an early channel start, to take advantage of the tides. Julia and I would relieve them later at around 7h00. The 75 miles across the channel had to be negotiated at an average of 5 knots an hour speed over ground (SOG). Initially, with no wind, engines were used. We tacked and jibed a couple of times (changing course with from the front or rear respectively) to avoid larger vessels such as ferries, tankers and freight ships, as we were traversing a major shipping route. It is truly amazing what a difference a matter of minutes can make in these circumstances. On average the tide was pulling us in an easterly direction, though we were set on a 190 degrees course i.e. almost due south. On one occasion a cold front seemed to be setting in, but this did not bother us at all. Generally visibility was excellent and if one does encounter a bit of fog, a radar reflector is hoisted up the main mast. For the last stretch we set the main and genoa sails, as the swell increased and sea became choppier. Whilst downstairs preparing some food and the boat going all over the show, the odours suddenly made me seasick. Geoff ordered me to the helm. I was confronted for the first time with being at the helm in a broad reach (when the wind blows strongly directly across the mast at right angles to the sail, resulting in maximum power on the sails). Boy, did this cure my seasickness in an instant, as I focussed on trying to steer the boat on a straight course. The adrenalin was pumping. This was scary stuff! The trick is to aim at a point on the horizon, checking the compass every so often, rather than focus on it entirely. We arrived in St.Vaast - La Hougue on the Normandy coastline at 18h30 UK time. Way points (target sailing co-ordinates determined by using the maps and monitored via the GPS navigation system) were set up to avoid the rocky coastline and shallow sandbanks. At the outset, for each leg, bets were placed as to the anticipated arrival time. Mine was a guess, hardly an educated one at that, though I won the first round! We showered hurriedly as we had booked at Le Vaubon restaurant for 21h00 French time. The shallow, rocky coastline off St. Vaast is renowned for the cultivation of oysters, which feature prominently on every menu in Normandy; only the quantity varies between 6, 8 or 12. This was my choice of starter, followed by fish, cheese and desert and much wine. The pretty, blond waitress was charming, to say the least and she knew it. Mathew and I decided to sleep on deck that evening under clear skies, mainly because of an awful smell from below, mainly from a slight leak of bilge water. In my instance this prospect was probably welcomed by the rest of the crew. If I snored, at least the noise would dissipate into the starry evening sky. The main sail car being in my way, I was prevented from turning onto my sides and therefore had to sleep on my back. Unbeknown to us all, rainy weather set in rapidly and Matt and I beat a hasty retreat to our bunks below at 4h00, as our deep sleep was rudely interrupted. St. Vaast would have to be explored in depth at a later date, as we were headed for Cherbourg the next day. |
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| PART TWO Day 4 – Tuesday 20st August Up at 8h30, at 10h30 we sailed from St. Vaast for Cherbourg past Point de Barfleur on the Cotentin coast after breakfast, covering a distance of 41.3 miles. We faced a headwind and some swell. Our average speed was 6/7 knots an hour speed over ground, though we managed 10 knots at best. The "Admiral", our accustomed reference to Geoff, will never live this next one down. Proficient at spotting distant landmarks, Geoff assured us that he could sight the northermost Channel Island, Alderney. Mathew reminded him that this simply wasn’t possible, as Alderney would be blocked from view by Cap de la Hague on the French Peninsula itself. Revising his assumptions, Geoff hastened: "Well, it must be the lighthouse on Cap de la Hague, then". A short while later the aforementioned lighthouse appeared to be emitting smoke and besides, it was moving! Cap de la Hague was suddenly transformed into a container ship and the lighthouse a smoke stack! It would appear that "Admirals" are prone to Freudian slips once in a while. Nice one! The headwind and course direction up the coast required frequent tacking. To the uninformed, this requires constant change of direction of sail by the helmsman, allowing the position of the genoa to be altered relative to the main sail, by sheeting out from a rope on one side and sheeting in on the other side. Not bound to kitchen duties alone, I was continually acquiring the skills of tacking, helming and sheeting of the main sail and genoa. We arrived at Cherbourg at 15h30 BST. Julia had been feeling ill but perked up later. She had always kept a vigilant eye out for vessels whilst on deck. On this occasion Matt was closest in the betting stakes as we edged into quays P and Q, reserved for visitors. Cherbourg is substantially bigger than St. Vaast and of great interest. Whilst Geoff arranged for repairs to be carried out to our on-board flush toilet, I headed for a town walkabout, locating the impressive Basilica de la Trinité in town and the statue of Napoleon and the maze of narrow avenues so typical of French towns. Classical music sounded out as I entered this place of holiness that was the cathedral, adorned by its beautiful stained glass windows, that cast a myriad of colours onto the stone walls, as the sun shone through. I was thinking of 25th August, when my own father would have been gone 17 years! I returned and showered at the Yacht Club. We then proceeded to the Caremoli restaurant in town, where Tony had reserved a table. The effervescent, reasonably fluent (in French, that is) northerner Tony, never short of words, took control yet again. As is customary in France, it’s either á la carte or le menu, priced at 15, 20 or 25 Euros per person. I tucked into a delicious green salad and seafood dish from le menu, that would later include cheese and dessert, despite the fact that St. Vaast oysters also featured. It goes without saying that the meal was being washed down with several bottles of wine. We were professionally served by our soft-spoken yet charming waitress. Day 5 – Wednesday 21st August The Cherbourg to Guernsey stretch provided arguably the most interesting challenge from a navigational point of view. Tony was to be the skipper for the day. In general terms, a 300° course up the coast would be altered to 225° through the "race" at Alderney at way point 49° to negotiate Cap de la Hague, finally allowing for a 200° transit to St. Peter port, using way points. This necessitated a Cherbourg departure at 11h10. The real challenge would have been to sail! Unfortunately, lack of wind meant the use of motor power was required. At one point whilst negotiating Cap de la Hague, we had to turn south sharply to avoid a ferry on the starboard side, requiring a significant correction to make amends for our evasive action, to correct our course, the tide playing a significant factor at this point. Our corrective action not proving sufficiently adequate, apparently resulting in us straying off course somewhat. The "Admiral" stepped in to add his five pennies worth and we ultimately picked up on our transit route. The post mortem discussion upon arrival in St.Peter Port at 17h30 BST resulted in an extensive debate weighing up the merits of one decision versus another, as would inevitably be the case, given these situations. In our approach towards Guernsey, a number of landmarks in the form of buoys, lighthouses and towers were utilised, as described in the Shell Channel Pilot. The final transit entry into the port was achieved by lining up a lighthouse and Belvedere house on Guernsey. The mind boggles as to how earlier sailors had negotiated these unknown waters, without the benefit of any prior knowledge regarding the rocky coastline, sandbanks or the like. After soaking up bilge water below the engine, the source of the odd smell which resulted in Matt and I sleeping on deck the previous evening (Geoff’s trick of using baby powder put paid to that), a quick shower later and we then headed for a drink at the nearest pub, overlooking the yacht basin from the terrace garden. Geoff and Mathew had also done a spot of washing at the Yacht Basin laundrette. St. Peter, on the eastern side of the island, seemed no different to any other English seaside port, and unlike the neighbouring Island of Herm, it seems that it is prone to rush-hour traffic. We bought fish and chips just up the road from the town church opposite the Victoria Marina entrance. The shop owner was a miserable character indeed, displaying delusions of grandeur, as if his sole purpose as a fish and chip shop owner was that he was doing everyone an enormous favour. He was so rude, to say the least, leaving us to ponder whether all folk on the island were as soulless as this specimen! His fish and chips were no better, the batter as raw as can be. The "Admiral" and the Navigator Tony had purchased vast quantities of wine in Cherbourg, at an outlet adjacent to the Yacht Club Captainerie. The Muscadet was going down particularly well at this point. Ever the "party animal", "Lulu" (as Tony had begun referring to her) was particularly keen to "hit the town", so I proposed that she, Matt and I venture off to a pub across the road for a drink or two. Day 6 – Thursday 22nd August A day on the island had thankfully been worked into the trip itinerary. The idea was we would all be doing a spot of island cycling, barring Julia, who had decided to catch up on a spot of sun tanning, whilst being tasked to acquire the evening curry meal. Geoff refueled and I went off to the cycle shop located at the Sark Channel Island ferry docking port, to reserve four bicycles for midday collection. Though hardly state-of-the–art cycles, they would undoubtedly serve the purpose. I had managed to fit in the time in hastily writing a few postcards. It is worth mentioning that the Channel Islands use their own £ currency 1:1 with the English currency) and stamps. With Julia’s shapely figure adorning the decks of the Xepha in a tiger skin bikini, we set off to the cycle shop. Saddles were adjusted and we were on our way. We headed off down past Bell Greve Bay on the eastern side, meaning that we were circumnavigating Guernsey in an anti-clockwise direction. We branched off to Beaucette, secluded Marina and Fort Doyle lighthouse, north of St. Sampsons harbour, before locating Fort le Marchant between Fontenelle Bay and L’Ancresse Bay. The island on the northern coastline is flat and extremely rocky. It is on the southern part of the island in the vicinity of Guernsey Airport where the island relief is greatest. The Island boasts a fully restored German bunker with original 10.5cm gun (Fort Hommet headland, Vazon Bay), a German Occupation Museum (Forest) and La Vallete Underground Military Museum (St. Peter port), neither of which we would have had time for in visiting. It is only subsequent to the trip that I realised that one of Guernsey’s major tourist attractions up the hill known as Hauteville, this being la Maison de Victor Hugo. It is with regret that I was not aware of this, as I had gone to great pains in Paris to visit his home there. It will be reserved for a future visit and sail, hopefully! Victor Hugo, who penned classics such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Les Miserables, was expelled from France after the coup d’etat in 1852 and moved to Jersey from Belgium in that year. While in Jersey, he wrote in support of a letter abusing Queen Victoria and her state visit to Paris and was promptly expelled from Jersey. Hugo then made Guernsey his home for the next 14 years and bought Hauteville house in 1856. Anyway, I digress, only because I found Victor Hugo of great interest whilst learning French. Back to the cycle ride. I forget the precise location, though it was probably in the vicinity of Ladies Bay, after we had taken a short cut across a golf course pathway. (Yes, I had visions of being struck on the back of my head by a golf ball, as I saw two guys teeing off at the green)! The "Admiral" charged down a slope as if there were no tomorrow, whereupon his forward progress was suddenly arrested when he encountered soft sand. Needless to say, he went flying over the handlebars. There he lay, prostrate and panting, furthermore suffering the indignation of being caught on camera in such an ignominious position. To make matters worse, a damsel on her way to sunning herself on the beach passed by at that point, smiled and passed some fitting remark. We stopped several times for a breather, enjoying a cup of tea, coke or a sandwich (in my case courtesy of Tony) at Grand Rocques. I was amazed at the gutsy performance shown by the "Admiral", who was battling to keep up with the rest of us, only because of his lack of cycling fitness. Northerner Tony, for his age, was amazing! I lost track of the others much to their annoyance, as is usually the case when distracted, normally by something I wish to photograph, in the vicinity of Vazon Bay. There is always a reason, the "Admiral" would say later during the trip! It was clear that we would soon be running out of time, as the bicycles had to be returned at 17h30. We cut inland in the vicinity of the reservoir at Castel. It was on an uphill stretch where the "Admiral" and I gave it all we had, that I became concerned. I heard Mathew calling from behind, as we were slightly ahead of them, turned around and cycled back. Tony and Mathew (who else) had been navigating a route back to St. Peter port and had decided to turn off. I returned to Geoff to break the news. Panting heavily and sweating profusely, he looked at me aghast and exclaimed: "You mean, we did that for nothing"! I had forgotten that Geoff uses a pacemaker and is in no position to display such heroics. The terrain in this mainly farming area of the island was infinitely greener and prettier than the windswept northern coastline. Once we had skimmed the airport, it was practically all downhill and a real bonus at that. The last winding section down Colborne Road to the port was a real treat (a bit like Constantia Nek to Hout Bay in Cape Town). Man, we were flying! The "Admiral", in particular, deserved a medal! We stopped off for a drink at the terrace garden pub. The weather was still great, as it had been all day. With the late afternoon sun still about, I wandered up the road through a maze of streets above St. Peter port. I found a spot which afforded me a view of the harbour and castle Cornet (which spans eight centuries and houses several museums). I viewed this scene in all its splendour, including Havelet Bay and islands beyond. A truly stunning sight, bathed in the light of dusk! I could still see the others enjoying their drink on the pub terrace. To think that I may even have walked past Hauteville without realising it, annoys me! Well satisfied with the photographic opportunity, though, I returned to the boat, only to discover that plans had altered somewhat. The navigation team had decided that, in order for us to take advantage of the tidal stream for the following day’s sail at 5h30, we would be forced to vacate our berth in the Victoria Marina within the next hour and a half. This was owing to the fact that the Marina gates, which are locked overnight, are not re-opened early enough the following morning. The rush was on to prepare the dinner that Julia had purchased, though due to unavailability of certain orders, there was insufficient food to go around. A misunderstanding arose in that I had assumed that the others had all showered and did not wish to be the only one who had not, after our marathon cycle. I mean, who wants a snorer on board, a smelly one at that! I therefore went off to have a quick shower. That took all of 10 minutes, whilst Mathew rushed off to purchase more food at a takeaway. It was only later that I realised that the others, barring Julia, had not showered. I felt truly awful and embarrassed! Anyway, we moved the boat and settled down at the pontoon. Though we had planned a pub visit that evening, we were not able to raise the water taxi on the radio in order to get ashore, which was just as well, as we had an early start at 5h30. I personally had enjoyed Guernsey immensely and have vowed to return there again someday, if only for the sake of la Maison de Victor Hugo! |
| A brief history of Guernsey Traces of the first settlers in Guernsey have been found on L'Ancresse golf course. Little else is widely known of the island's very early history, although discoveries such as the "Asterix", the wreck of a Roman ship discovered in St. Peter in 1982, are continuing to tel stories of Guernsey's past. Guernsey's growth owed much to its importance as a calling point for sailors. The island's strategic position ensured a constant flow of visitors through a catalogue of invasions. Guernsey, along with her island neighbours became part of Normandy under the Norman, William Longsword - son of Rollo, the 1st Duke of Normandy, in 933. In 1066, William (now known as the Conqueror), defeated King Harold at the Battle of Hastings and also became King of England. In 1204, King John lost Normandy back to the French. After this the islands reverted back and forth between English and French control no fewer than six times! Throughout the Reformation years, the religious allegiances swayed from Catholic to Protestant and back. Methodism grew in the 1770's after the visit of John Wesley. The practice of privateering, which started in the late 17th Century, really saw St. Peter Port grow in size and wealth. This form of legalised piracy enabled privately owned vessels licenced by the Crown to seize and plunedr enemy ships. In fact so much French brandy was plundered that Guernsey was dubbed the "Bond Warehouse" of British Merchants. So by 18h00, St. Peter Port had grown into a town boasting many wealthy residents. An influx of new resisdents appeared in the Napoleonic Wars and work began in earnest to erect new buildings and harbour jetties. By 1865 the harbour had mainly taken the shape we see today. During the years 1940 to 1945, the islands were under German Occupation. May 9th 1995 was the 50th Anniversary of the Liberation of the islands by the Allied Forces, ending a five year long occupation, where the Guernsey people had endured great hardships. |
| Day 6 – Thursday 22nd
August A day on the island had thankfully been worked into the trip itinerary. The idea was we would all be doing a spot of island cycling, barring Julia, who had decided to catch up on a spot of sun tanning, whilst being tasked to acquire the evening curry meal. Geoff refueled and I went off to the cycle shop located at the Sark Channel Island ferry docking port, to reserve four bicycles for midday collection. Though hardly state-of-the–art cycles, they would undoubtedly serve the purpose. I had managed to fit in the time in hastily writing a few postcards. It is worth mentioning that the Channel Islands use their own £ currency 1:1 with the English currency) and stamps. With Julia’s shapely figure adorning the decks of the Xepha in a tiger skin bikini, we set off to the cycle shop. Saddles were adjusted and we were on our way. We headed off down past Bell Greve Bay on the eastern side, meaning that we were circumnavigating Guernsey in an anti-clockwise direction. We branched off to Beaucette, secluded Marina and Fort Doyle lighthouse, north of St. Sampsons harbour, before locating Fort le Marchant between Fontenelle Bay and L’Ancresse Bay. The island on the northern coastline is flat and extremely rocky. It is on the southern part of the island in the vicinity of Guernsey Airport where the island relief is greatest. The Island boasts fully restored German bunker with original 10.5cm gun (Fort Hommet headland, Vazon Bay) and A German Occupation Museum (Forest) and La Vallete Underground Military Museum (St. Peter port), neither of which we would have had time for in visiting. It is only subsequent to the trip that I realised that one of Guernsey’s major tourist attractions up the hill known as Hauteville lies la Maison de Victor Hugo. It is with regret that I was not aware of this, as I had gone to great pains in Paris to visit his home there. It will be reserved for a future visit and sail, hopefully! Victor Hugo, who penned classics such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Les Miserables, was expelled from France after the coup d’etat in 1852 and moved to Jersey from Belgium in that year. While in Jersey, he wrote in support of a letter abusing Queen Victoria and her state visit to Paris and was promptly expelled from Jersey. Hugo then made Guernsey his home for the next 14 years and bought Hauteville house in 1856. Anyway, I digress, only because I found Victor Hugo of great interest whilst learning French. Back to the cycle ride. I forget the precise location, though it was probably in the vicinity of Ladies Bay, after we had taken a short cut across a golf course pathway. (Yes, I had visions of being struck on the back of my head by a golf ball, as I saw two guys teeing off at the green)! The "Admiral" charged down a slope as if there were no tomorrow, whereupon his forward progress was suddenly arrested when he encountered soft sand. Needless to say, he went flying over the handlebars. There he lay, prostrate and panting, furthermore, suffering the indignation of being caught on camera in such an ignominious position. To make matters worse, A damsel on her way to sunning herself on the beach passed by at that point, smiled and passed some fitting remark. We stopped several times for a breather, enjoying a cup of tea, coke or a sandwich (in my case courtesy of Tony) at Grand Rocques. I was amazed at the gutsy performance shown by the "Admiral", who was battling to keep up with the rest of us, only because of his lack of cycling fitness. Northerner Tony, for his age, was amazing! I lost track of the others much to their annoyance, as is usually the case when distracted, normally by something I wish to photograph, in the vicinity of Vazon Bay. There is always a reason, the "Admiral" would say later during the trip! It was clear that we would soon be running out of time, as the bicycles had to be returned at 17h30. We cut inland in the vicinity of the reservoir at Castel. It was on an uphill stretch where the "Admiral" and I gave it all we had, that I became concerned. I heard Mathew calling from behind, as we were slightly ahead of them, turned around and cycled back. Tony and Mathew (who else) had been navigating a route back to St. Peter port and had decided to turn off. I returned to Geoff to break the news. Panting heavily and sweating profusely, he looked at me aghast and exclaimed: "You mean, we did that for nothing"! I had forgotten that Geoff uses a pacemaker and is in no position to display such heroics. The terrain in this mainly farming area of the island was infinitely greener and prettier than the windswept northern coastline. Once we had skimmed the airport, it was practically all downhill and a real bonus at that. The last winding section down Colborne Road to the port was a real treat (a bit like Constantia Nek to Hout Bay in Cape Town). Man, we were flying! The "Admiral", in particular, deserved a medal! We stopped off for a drink at the terrace garden pub. The weather was still great, as it had been all day. With the late afternoon sun still about, I wandered up the road through a maze of streets above St. Peter port. I found a spot which afforded me a view of the harbour and castle Cornet (which spans eight centuries and houses several museums), which I viewed in all its splendour, Havelet Bay and islands beyond. A truly stunning sight, bathed in the light of dusk! I could still see the others enjoying their drink on the pub terrace. To think that I may even have walked past Hauteville without realising it, sickens me! Well satisfied, I returned to boat, only to discover that plans had altered somewhat. The navigation team had decided that, in order for us to take advantage of the tidal stream for the following day’s sail at 5h30, we would be forced to vacate our berth in the Victoria Marina within the next hour and a half. This was owing to the fact that the Marina gates, which are locked overnight, are not re-opened early enough the following morning. The rush was on to prepare the dinner that Julia had purchased, though due to unavailability of certain orders, there was insufficient food to go around. A misunderstanding arose in that I had assumed that the others had all showered and did not wish to be the only one who had not, after our marathon cycle. I mean, who wants a snorer on board, a smelly one at that! I therefore went off to have a quick shower. That took all of 10 minutes, whilst Mathew rushed off to purchase more food at a takeaway. It was only later that I realised that the others, barring Julia, had not showered. I felt truly awful and embarrassed! Anyway, we moved the boat and settled down at the pontoon. Though we had planned a pub visit that evening, we were not able to raise the water taxi on the radio in order to get ashore, which was just as well, as we had an early start at 5h30. I personally had enjoyed Guernsey immensely and have vowed to return there again someday, if only for the sake of la Maison de Victor Hugo! |
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| PART THREE Day 7 – Friday 23rd August The 5h30 transit sail from St. Peter Port at dawn I was not going to miss for the world! As opposed to incoming transit that required the lighthouse and Belvedere House to be in line, the outgoing transit required the aforementioned lighthouse and a light 60% up the hillside to be in line. The same markers as on the incoming transit played a role, these being the two towers Le Plats de Forgérre, with its black horizontal strip and Tautenay, with black vertical stripes, now familiar to us, as well as the metal lattice structure, Roustel. We were able to appreciate these more fully, as they were flashing their unique count, as described in the Shell Channel Pilot. Though the identical way points would be utilised, Mathew added to additional way points "MP3A" and "MP2A", to shave off a bit of the corner route in rounding Cap de la Hague when diverting from a 225° to 300° course. As the "Admiral" constantly put it, "I love it when a plan comes together". Once again navigators Tony and Mathew had put in much hard work! Unfortunately, it was motor power practically all the way. I do not recall much in covering the 43 mile return leg to Cherbourg, which we reached at 12h10 BST. Upon arrival, I "knuckled down" and cleaned the bilges of water, which had developed a slow leak sail, later reported to the "Admiral", to be noted in the logbook. Mathew worked on repairing the safety netting on the starboard side of the boat. I assisted Geoff in filling the diesel tank and refilling the canisters. The fresh water supply was also replenished. In essence, everyone was engaged in some task or another. This took a couple of hours of graft, thus deserving of a decent shower, cold beer and rest. Mathew, ever full of inventiveness, had lowered a bag containing the beers into the water via a rope. We had decided to book for the same restaurant as on the previous occasion, though, in retrospect, it was a case of too much of a good thing. Somehow the novelty had worn off. Day 8 – Saturday 24th August A late lie-in was deserved by all, yet I do recall having a towel thrown at me (literally not figuratively) in the middle of the night. It was Julia. She must have lost an earplug again! We showered and enjoyed a hearty breakfast. An entrepreneur running a patisserie from a wooden shack on the quayside enabled us to buy our baguettes with consummate ease. Food was purchased from a kitty, to which we all contributed equally. Any additional expenditure, usually paid for by one person, such as restaurant visits, would be noted and the costs split later. Tony and I enjoyed our muesli with the additional of fresh fruit, Mathew his shredded wheat cereal, whilst Geoff tucked into his raisin croissant! Tony had taken a liking to my "birdseed" concoction consisting of Cashew nuts, pumpkinseeds, sunflower seeds, pine nuts and raisins, though the stock was now depleted. Ever the organizer, Tony had arranged two outings for the day, a visit to the Cherbourg’s Cité de la Mer and a coastal cycle ride. The weather was once again kind to us. It was hot. I must say in all honesty that I was not prepared for the splendour that was Cité de la Mer, which has just opened in 2002. Housed in an art Deco style building at La Gare Marintime Transatlantique, it is a truly astounding oceanographic museum, obviously set up with the funding of the French government! I have never seen the likes of it and the few hours we spent inside did not do it justice. The Ocean Area of the museum, with murals, interactive displays, video footage and thrilling exhibitions, allows one to explore submarine archeology, biology, climatology, oceanography and other facets of the underwater world. "Man has always peopled the seabed with his own fears and dreams – imaginary monsters, mythical and improbable creatures." Loch Ness is testimony to this. The myths and legends section touches on this. Documented is the development and advances in diving techniques from the earliest crude attempts to the latter day advances enabling divers to reach many shipwrecks, such as the famous archeological CSS Alabama site. "It’s cold, it’s dark, it’s hungry, it’s deep". Through the numerous video terminals, one can discover under water landscapes with their oases and trenches, icy wastes, mountains and volcanoes, how the seabed relief has effectively been "mapped" and how volcanic faults have, for example, led to the creation of the islands of Hawaii. The deep-sea aquarium, a full fathom five. A new concept with its ten metres of sheer drop, this giant aquarium designed by marine architect Jacques Rougerie "immerses one gradually in the wealth and diversity of the sea’s depths", in the form of living coral. The sixteen surrounding tanks allow one to view the most astonishing sealife. Rays, tiny sea horses and jellyfish. The Submarine Area allows one to board the world’s largest submarine open to the public and is housed as a permanent display in the dry dock. The Redoutable French Nuclear submarine, 420 foot long weighing up to 8000 tonnes, is described by the use of headphones and commentary under handset control given one prior to entry to the vessel. One is able to pass through the engine rooms, the nuclear power plant, pass the sixteen nuclear silos, the operations room, the torpedoes, the living and recreational quarters and kitchen, a truly amazing experience. We enjoyed a break in the restaurant facility till about 13h30 – 14h00, then wandered back. Tony, Mathew and I headed off to pick up bicycles at 15h30. Only a tandem was left, so I offered to opt out, until another became available. So we enjoyed a short cycle down the coast. I returned to the wine merchant, run by an English lady and making a fortune, by the looks of it. She had several bottles open for tasting. A South African tasting was planned for the next day. I purchased a mixture of South African Millberg reds (bottled under her own label) and Australian Chardonnay. I simply could not acquire a liking to the French wines available for tasting. It is perhaps a matter that one’s tongue is accustomed to the New World wines. A shopping list had been prepared and so on this occasion I offered to purchase foods necessary for the return channel crossing. I showered. Unable to access the server via the Yacht Club’s "Internet PC", I phoned Eva, who had presumed that I had already returned and was phoning from the UK. I also attempted to phone Pascal Bouveron, who, it had transpired, had been in St. Vaast the week before! If only I had known. We booked for a place at le Grandgousier restaurant that Tony had frequented on a previous visit, where we stayed till 24h00. Expensive and not truly full value for money, in my opinion, it did not prevent us from enjoying the moment. In a way, there was something pretentious in the style of this particular restaurant. Perhaps it was the fact that the presentation bordered on that of nouvelle cuisine. After this Geoff headed back to the boat whilst we scoured the streets of Cherbourg to find a suitable venue for a nightcap. Day 9 – Sunday 25th August Julia and I permitted the luxury of a lie-in, the primary crew arose at 6h00 for the almost northerly course at 350° to the Needles, on the Isle of Wight. I was up at eight to relieve Tony and Mathew (Geoff had managed some additional rest). Initially the motor was used exclusively to main a course speed over ground (SOG) of 5-7 knots, though at 9h00 we were able to utilise the main sail and genoa to achieve this. Whilst downstairs to log an entry, I heard a bang. I discovered Geoff, who was sure that it was the sound of a Concorde going through the sound barrier, in shock upstairs. I later went downstairs for an additional forty wink spell. As we approached the Needles, the sea water lashed the boat and occasional fresh spray doused us. It was exhilarating. I shall not forget the sandwich lunches, tea-breaks with oatmeal biscuits or snack sessions, when Mars bars are passed around, the thrill of setting sails, the ritualistic challenge of remembering those damned slip and bowline knots. We sailed past the Needles in the clearest visibility, bathed in the light of dusk, a real photographic opportunity. A sailing vessel had ventured too close and run aground on a sandbank. It began to rain as thunder weather moved in. It had taken us all of 13 hours to reach Lymington at 19h30, a total distance of 84 miles being covered. Geoff and I quickly went off for the fish and chips before closing time. Day 10 – Monday 26th August The trip now at its conclusion, all that remained was a final clean-up of the yacht, logbook entries and notes of repairs done and those still to be carried out and the settling of all accounts. Around mid-day I headed off up the highway to Welwyn. I stopped over en route for a rest, as I could barely keep my eyes open. Upon arriving home, I unpacked the car and turned in early. I was truly exhausted, yet it had been a truly memorable experience. I was pleased, too, that it had given the " Admiral" renewed confidence and that he had found the trip worthwhile, after initially doubting whether he should go at all. |
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