Adventures on Xiphias

Escape from Kerry

It took three weeks to get a weather window to make it around the Dingle Peninsular, round to Tralee Bay and then off to the Kerry coast. The hop to the Aran islands is a big one and required more settled weather. I have been joined by my friend Bill for a week or so. He has brought some good opportunities so we have zoomed up past Galway and took the opportunity to stop at Aran. The next day, hiring bikes, a tour of the island revealed the great stone fortress on the edge of the world.

Island hopping

This fabulous coast is scattered with great islands and inside passages that take the sting out of the Atlantic swell. Roundstone and Inishbofin are great places to visit. I could spend an entire summer exploring this coast and it would still not be properly covered. The pressure to make good progress balanced with the desire to explore is making me linger. I am considering the great goal of rounding UK & Ireland may have to be staggered to justice to the stunning beauty of this coast and its peaple. I am loathed to press on.

Next on the itinerary

• Clew bay, a bay of a thousand islands
• Blacksod bay, long bays and great fishing
• Broadhaven and a great launch pad to cross Donegal bay (50nm)

Delayed in port

I have been delayed by strong winds and continuous rain. The autohelm, which was working fine after its repair in Cork, has packed up completely due to the ingress of water into the controller head. As a consequence I have also lost access to the electric compass. I’ve been in touch with a service engineer in Cork who has something working but is unwilling to send it until he is satisfied with all the tests. I could sail on regardless and probably would but for the almost continuous rain and terrible visibility. I am glad not to be in the middle of a harbour swinging on a mooring or anchor chain with a wet row ashore. The marina berth in Dingle, although far more expensive, enables me to come and go several times a day as I please. I also benefit from a mains electricity supply. It’s a bit like caravanning I know, but the comfort and convenience when the weather has been so foul is a relief.

Tourist tours

Whilst being stuck I have taken the opportunity to take loads of tourist tours

• Valentia island. This was where the trans-Atlantic cables made landfall. Important to Britain, the island was retained by Britain as part of the 1921 Irish settlement.
• Blasket islands. Abandoned in 1953 they had been occupied for 6 thousand years, now left to the sheep, birds and seals. Before the evacuation many of the islanders were encouraged to write about themselves and their lives, these make fascinating reading.
• Slea Head archeology. The Dingle peninsular is dotted with 6th to 12th century monasteries of the Celtic tradition. Stone built without mortar, these enclosures and structures are know as beehives because of their shape. These people kept the Christian tradition alive during the Dark ages.
• County town of Tralee. I visited the Kerry county museum here. The town dates back to the 12th Century being founded by the Anglo-Normans. Things went well until the Century when the Earl of Desmond, who had become more Irish than the Irish raised the suspicion of the English authorities and eventually rebelled. 1580 was a bad year to be in Tralee. I was destroyed by the Earl lest it be of use to his enemies.
• I visited my aunt, 92 still living in her own home, fit in mind and body. It must be the  country life!

All this activity has helped deflect the frustration on not keeping going. I am beginning to suffer harbor fever and can’t wait to get going again.

Boat knocked onto her ear

I slipped out of the shelter of Bear island sound easily enough with a reef in the mains’l ready for the thump up to Dursey island that lies off the headland. I watched thick heavy clouds approach and thought that doesn’t look good when the wind suddenly rose from 20kts to 40kts in an instant. The rain though fine had a gale behind it and I was glad to be wearing my waterproof kit but I lost my hat! I was also lucky to be sitting next to the main sheet as the boat was thrown on to her beam-ends by the blast with water gushing down the side deck and the cockpit floor now a cliff. I ran the sheet out, the boat steadied and I was once again in control. The wind steadied to 30 kts, still lots but controllable.

A tight squeeze

After the shower had blown through, the sun came out and I was once again able to see where I was going. I planned to pass between the mainland and the island thus saving 10 miles off the journey by passing through Dursey sound. On the chart it looks tight but as I rounded the main land and made the approach I began to appreciate how tight. To add to the adrenaline rush there is a cable car strung across the sound with the cables at 21m about the water. My boat doesn’t have that big an air draft, does it? As I approached, with the wind now behind me I was reaching over 7kts and no room to turn around, nothing to do but go for it, and look out for the flag rock just to the right! As I shot under the cables I was then confronted by the next hazard, a wall of white water as the northern and narrow end of the passage emerges into Kenmare bay the depth drops from 30m to 50m. This underwater cliff causes the swells to rise in tumult at the affront on the land.

I emerged into a different country. This is where the land and sea wage their constant war. The rounded hills of Kerry are eaten alive by the winter gales. I was close hauled, with the sails pulled in tight, making my way northwards towards the famous Skellig Michael. It’s a rocky island where 6^th century saints preserved Christianity in the Dark ages. This Skellig disappeared as the next shower approached. I was ready this time and reefed down the mainsail further. When the gusts hit this time I was able to keep control. The other big difference is the Atlantic swell was running at 2 to 3 metres, when I was in a trough I couldn’t see the Skellig at all. 16 miles don’t sound far but when in a small boat on the edge of the Atlantic it can seem a very long lonely way. I was glad to make my way north and past Valentia island. This was the land-fall of the Trans-Atlantic telephone and telegraph cables. Rounding the island I was able to free the sails and bring the boat onto a more or less even keel and I reach across Dingle bay to wards its harbour.

A lively town

Dingle has a famous dolphin, Fungi, that lives wild but regularly plays with the tourist and dive boats that operate out of the town. It’s been doing this for nearly 20 years. I did see the animal and also heard the “oos” and “ahhs” of tourists on their tripper boat. No one knows why this lone creature deliberately seeks human company and not its own kind.

My mother was born and raised here but I doubt she would recognise the impoverished fishing and farming town of the 1940s. I have seen black and white photographs and it looked grim although mother says it was happy place. The streets are now crammed with galleries and gift shops catering for the many tourists who visit this pretty town. There is still a working fish quay but the main business of the town is entertainment with a dozen pubs hosting live music every night. Dingle is a welcoming lively place.

Gale bound

The gales that have delayed me are still plaguing the North Atlantic and a deep storm south of Iceland is causing strong winds and large swells. I won’t leave the harbour if the forecast is rough, very rough or high. The passage from Dursey has shown that the skipper of this 10m yacht will show respect to wind and sea on this coast. The next five-day forecast doesn’t look good until Saturday, so till them I shall be a ground based tourist.

Now here’s a curious observation of the 6 foreign visiting yachts in Dingle, identifiable as they fly the Irish tricolour at the mast as a courtesy, 4 are French, 1 Norwegian and me, the only one wearing the red duster.

Rounding the South West corner

When I took the opportunity to round the Mizen head the forecast was for far southerly light breeze and the risk of

After 8 years carrying the thing it was a shock to hear how loud it is.

fog. Hardly sooner had Valentia coastguard completed his broadcast than a thick sea fog rolled in. I scrabbled in the bo’sun’s locker for the fog horn powered by compressed air can. It’s the first time I’ve needed it in eight years. I tested the horn and was shocked by the astonishing loudness that disturbed the guillemots. It took a while to complete the rounding and I stood off and extra mile from the coast but once around the headland the tops of the hills began to show as the fog dissipated. I was happy to lay my course for Bear Island passing another beautiful seabird covered headland. The island is in Bantry bay and has a wonderfully sheltered sound with Castletownbere on the mainland acting as the principal fishing harbour of the area. I anchored for a couple of hours to get some supplies before deciding to move on to Laurence Cove where there is a small marina run by a delightful lady called Phil. As I approached she waved me into a berth and took my lines. What a welcome!

Alas, the weather has broken and a succession of lows are tracking south of Iceland giving us strong winds. I am glad I took the marina option, hard-core cruisers would be appalled but being able to walk ashore where there showers, toilets, a shop and a pub. When it’s not raining, which is most of the time, there are great walks around the island and places to discover. The island has a recent past of being one of the treaty ports that were part of the Irish Free State settlement. Britain retained these ports until 1938. It is easy to speculate that their continued use would have helped the battle of the Atlantic in WWII but would almost certainly have dragged Ireland into the conflagration.

Drying the laundry in a pretty place

Richard and Mary have been here many times and they invited to me to join them on an expedition to the Castletown, taking the island ferry and local taxi. We left on the 11 o’clock ferry which also carried a group of Irish army cadets back after their tour at the military base that the army maintains on the island. It only took 30 minutes to complete the essential shopping, which wasn’t really essential but the change of scenery was welcome. We met up again and visited MacCarthy’s bar on the main square. This is famous for two reasons. Most recently, and Irish American visited every MacCarthy’s bar in Ireland having a drink and taking a picture. The subsequent TV programme made the bar famous and folks can be seen having the photo taken there now. The other reason is the owners father was a doctor during WWII and was at Dunkirk and the far east. He was taken prisoner by the Japanese and was lucky to escape with his life when the atomic explosion of Nagasaki and ensuing chaos prevented the planned massacre of prisoners. There is colour and history whenever you kick as stone in this country.

When I went to pay for the marina berth Phil asked me is I liked mackerel, which I do. She then went up to the house and brought back three beautiful fish ready and prepared for cooking, what a great place to visit.

Having been diverted to London for a week, it was great to meet up with old friends and have an excuse for a meal and a chat. When I returned I was keen to get moving again. I quickly progressed along the coast from Cork, Kinsale, Glandore and Baltimore. That’s Baltimore, County Cork, not to be confused with the more famous American city of the same name. The winds were moderate but southwesterly requiring a lot of close hauled work. This means the sails are drawn in tight and the boat is on a constant lean. A couple of memorable instances were

• The passage between the Stags, an outcrop of rocky islets and the mainland;
• Moon rise over the entrance of Glandore bathing the islands of Adam and Eve in a silver stream.
• The open air concert at Baltimore that lulled me to sleep.
• The intricate passage through Long Island Bay to the Crookhaven.

The going gets tougher round to the West

I looked into the pretty harbour of Schull, in Long island bay but it is exposed to the south, where Met Eireann was forecasting strong southerly winds to blow. The islands in Long island are a great place and I can understand why this are is a favourite local cruising ground. I was in Crookhaven three nights waiting for the winds to abate before making the passage around Mizen head. The haven has a number of visitor buoys which I was able to pick up and secure against the come strong winds. Ashore there are two excellent pubs and a shop. The Mizen represents the furthest southerly point of Ireland and rounding it a key milestone. I learned later that a 50ft cruiser, with no one aboard, had torn her mooring and was wrecked in Crookhaven. A reminder of this is not a game for the faint hearted.

Always something going on.

I expected Cork to have an active club and was surprised just how active the Royal Cork YC is, with cruisers racing on a Wednesday and dinghies busy every day. There are no less three national champions based at the club. The Irish optimist junior champion, the Irish optimist senior champion and the British Senior champion! They are  all swimming in a great pool of talent the club has nurtured. When I visited Kinsale YC and stayed at their excellent marina I was impressed by the hive of activity here too. On the Wednesday evening there were 17 yachts in three classes thrashing around the cans. Lasers were out in force demonstrating their youthful vigour. The Irish are great ones for their sports, such a small population produces great success with rugby, sailing and soccer that it hard to believe that they compete for the attentions of the sporting folks with the national sports of Hurly and Gaelic football.

While at Cork I got into conversation with one of the officers of the club and we discussed the recession and its impact on Cork week. At its zenith there were 700 boats at Cork which is second only to Cowes week for numbers. Alas, the recession has taken its toll and this year he had 300 entries but was still pleased that it was more than other famous regattas such as Antigua at 120. The principal income is from the tented village which is erected in the huge dinghy park. The population of Cork take the opportunity to party whether they sail or not and that tradition will help sustain the event in these poor economic times.

Hand steering – all the time is no fun.

Six weeks without the autohelm, the electric arm that can steer the boat, has been getting me down. Most of the time I

Evening racing in Cork Harbour

can balance the sails and lash the tiller but this only works if there is a fair breeze and a smooth sea. Even then I can only afford a couple of minutes away from the helm.

This has some advantages, I don’t get distracted from the primary task of keeping a sharp look out, useful when there are 20,000 lobster pot lines on the southern Irish coast.

When motor sailing or in a swell the helm needs constant attention. In these conditions I have felt trapped because if something else needs attention I have to hold the helm and fiddle with whatever needs doing. If it’s the foresail sheets, the lines that pull the sail in, then I can just about reach. All other tasks I have to stop the boat, let her drift, see to the matter quickly, then restart sailing. Navigational checks are the obvious distraction but also putting on mooring lines and fenders is a trial. Fenders are the cylindrical plastic lozenge-shaped bumpers that protect the hull sides when coming along side.

As I have been cruising along I have been contacting folks trying to get advice on what’s wrong with the autohelm. Corporate support and distributor network didn’t solve the problem. I even did what Doctors hate us doing, I searched the internet with my symptoms and came up with a diagnosis of a cracked solder joint on the printed circuit board in the head unit.

Local network of contacts finds expert

George gets his head examined

Arriving in Cork I resolved to solve the problem. Some calling to chandlers and even manufacturers didn’t solicit any answers but the Irish approach to a problem is different to the English. The Irish will always try to leave you with something, even if they don’t have the answer themselves, they suggest someone who might. It’s a bit like a treasure hunt but just 4 calls later I was speaking to Colum who was a marine electronics service engineer. He apologised that he could only come later that afternoon as he had some things to do in the workshop. This was the most promising response I had received in two months, I was overjoyed!

At 4pm Colum came on board and we discussed the problem as he checked the settings of the autohelm and checked for the obvious problems. He tried his spare head in place of mine and yes it worked fine. More fiddling and the printed circuit board was replaced and I have a functioning autohelm again. It will make so much easier for me. So, in the final analysis, corporate support nil, local service engineer, well known in the community and willing to have a go wins the business. Thank Colum.

An exercise in planning

I had planned to get from Milford straight to Waterford but speaking to the friendly man in the Windjammer chandler’s at Milford he suggested going to Kilmore as it is the shortest hop. Back at the boat I did some serious plotting and came up with a plan to leave Milford and sail south and west and cross the traffic separation zone. These are zones that big ships are forced by law to follow at pinch points such as Lands End and in the Irish sea, there are two of interest to me. The smalls is a group of islands off the Pembroke coast where the first zone exists and the second is off Rosslare on the SE corner of Ireland. They are nuisance to yachts man for two reasons.

• They must be crossed at right angles regardless of the best course to the destination
• Yachts must not interfere, impede or otherwise bother the shipping, generally true since they are working but in separation zone legally enforced.

The original plan was to go early from Milford and cross the zone and then head towards Kilmore. The plan was working well until I did the tidal plot. The tide would turn against me at 1400 and this plan had the bulk of the Irish sea to cross at that time. My crew, David who had joined me at Milford to assist the crossing pointed out why not go north and then west. I liked this plan better because it enabled me to keep clear of the shipping separation zones and had the bonus of allowing a sneaky head start by anchoring at Skomer Island rather than spending the first hours of the passage plugging out of Milford.

A smooth crossing

We departed Milford at 1015 and motored out to the rolly sea. It was fine and the trip to Skomer required no serious navigation. Once into the Southern Haven the roll reduced and I was able to anchor in 6m of water. The haven  has a great many gulls, puffins and razor bills roosting and nesting on the cliffs. It was like being in an avian auditorium. Seals came and stuck their heads up to look at the interlopers. The tide ebbed and I sat worrying at the closeness of the rocks. With the flood most other boats departed leaving 3 over nighters. I hoisted my riding or anchor light and after a meal of port chops we turned in early ready for the 7am departure. About 1am there was an almighty crash, I shot out of bed, checked the anchor and other boats and all seemed well. It sounded like the rigging. The rest of the night I slept in the saloon fully clothed and checked the situation every hour. There was another crash and we concluded it must have been a bird that had flown into the rig, poor creature. 7am and we up and going heading for the South Bishop Cardinal buoy and the start of the route. The wind was light and from astern which I would normally love but with the passage requiring a steady average of 5kts we had to keep motoring. There was a pleasant interlude for a couple fo hours when we could beam reach but the wind died off again and so on we went.

A welcome to Ireland

Hours later we caught of Ireland and negotiated St Patrick’s Bridge which is a gap in a reef between an offshore island (Little Saltee) and Kilmore. The least depth is 1.5m but with half the tide we were safe enough to approach. Inside the harbour and bit of faffing around with berths and we were made very welcome by Nicky the berthing master. He was curious about why I changed berths and explained that I noticed the one I had chosen already had lines so I didn’t want to take a private berth. “Oh, you needn’t worry about that he’s not launched yet and even if he was he could go somewhere else till your gone.” A much more relaxed attitude to the matter than that experienced in a marina on the south coast of England. Kilmore is tiny place but has a seafood restaurant and pub. We met Nicky later and had a good blether about the state of things from the decline of the fishing industry to the long summer hours he puts in to make sure the boats arrive safe and are welcomed.

David left next day back to London and his niece’s christening, thankyou David, great companionship. The following day I left to Waterford and threaded my way up the winding river to the town quay. It’s a lovely town and in the sunshine everyone is out and about enjoying themselves. Next stop Dungarvan and thence Cork.

More than point and go…

As far as Falmouth I had not really been doing navigation. I would put in some way points into the GPS chart plotter

The picture does show how bumpy it was a Lands End

and following the prescribed route. That’s been great and when rounding some of the headlands I would cut the corner because the turbulence was not so great that such a good clearance was required. Rounding the Lizard I had to work out an appropriate time of arrival because Penzance has a sea lock to stop the water of the inner harbour draining away. The information is in the Almanac but not in a presentable form so I create a table heights and times for the local port. It’s a bit fussy but it means I can see when I have to arrive and then work backwards to the work out when I should leave.

The buoy leading into Padstow has limited periods of use!

Getting round Lands End into Padstow needed even more planning because there is nowhere else to go on the North Cornwall coast and like Penzance it has a locking inner harbour and a huge expanse of the threatening  named DOOM bar at the entrance that the pilot, now known as the voice of doom, advised should not be approached in heavy weather. To add note urgency as I approached the Padstow the coastguard repeated a gale warning Southerly Force 8. I was a bit panicky but managed to get into the harbour with two hours to spare before they shut the gate. I sat snugly has the ropes and halyards of other boats beat against the masts in the strong wind. Padstow would be my last landfall in England. Two days later I crossed the yawning jaws of the Bristol Channel with its shocking tides and no ports of refuge. The island is the only hope of shelter for boats caught in westerly gales. My passage was smooth and a light southeasterly breeze enabled me to reach across with the sails eased. Dolphins greeted me as I left the bay and again when I was 20 miles south of Milford Haven in west Wales. I don’t know why the sight of the dolphins makes me happy maybe its their carefree playfulness, whatever it is I am always glad of their company.

Now in sunny Wales I am plotting the crossing to Ireland and have been joined by friend David to assist me in the 70 miles, 16 hour passage to Kilmore, the nearest safe landfall on that coast. It’ll be great.