Adventures on Xiphias

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.