Adventures on Xiphias

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

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.

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.

Starting with trepidation – leaving home waters

The strong North Westerly winds that plagued the sea trial had begun to abate when I started my passage. The first day I was tentative and only reached as far as New Town on the Isle of Wight. The auto helm, and electric arm that can steer

the boat is proving troublesome. I was determined to leave the marina but decided that plunging out without a proper plan was not the thing to do, Hence New Town. The evening gave me a chance to plan the passage to Poole or Weymouth. The big tide gate is the Needles passage. I aimed to pass through at slack water which required an early rise. This is a key milestone on the passage, leaving the Solent means the adventure is truly under way.

A lucky break

I woke super early and made myself a cooked breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and a flask of hot coffee. It was cold but clear and the wind, though strong enough for me, was F5 and northerly, the waves wore white caps. I ran out of the Solent under a reefed genoa, fore sail, alone as was sluiced west by a helpful tide. The autohelm was still dysfunctional so I hand steered all the way, skipping Poole and aimed straight for Weymouth with the good wind behind me. The visibility was fantastic and made a safe entrance Saturday afternoon while the racing boats were still rushing around. A call to the harbour master told me I could go along side town quay and there was plenty of room. My challenge then to come alongside, single handed without assistance. I tuned the boat into tide and wind slowed to a virtual standstill and crabbed sideways onto the pontoon., touch down no problem.

I stayed in Weymouth three nights waiting on the weather, the forecast was still north- easterly F5-F6 occasionally F7 but when I looked out it wasn’t so bad. The strong winds were forecast to reduce to F3 to F4 which was my cue to leave and head across the Lyme bay towards Dartmouth. Crossing Lyme bay, done by hundreds of boats each summer, marks the end of southern England and the beginning of the West Country with long-established holiday destinations. It was bumpy, cold and unpleasant but I stuck with it, again running just under a reefed genoa hand steering all the way. It was a remarkably fast passage with the tide assisting me and the visibility so clear I never lost sight of land. I was rewarded by a dozen dolphins, either common or white beaked, who came along side chasing the boat and touching the rudder. I arrived in Dartmouth well ahead of time, about 5pm. I decided to take the easiest berth which is the visitors pontoon at Kingswear, where the steam trains run in from Paignton.

The West Country

I went up the road to the Ship Inn and enjoyed several pints of Otter Ale. There were a succession of people in the pub, firstly the folks running B&Bs telling tales of their booking agents and the stupidity of the clients. Then the local handy man and the cooks from the local hotel had a competition to eating picked eggs. Errr. I tottered back to my boat and woke with a thick head. Next day I moved up river to a cheaper mooring off the village of Ditisham, full of holiday cottages and large properties overlooking the river. It is clearly a wealthy area judging by the number of builders vans and various maintenance service vans attending the houses in preparation for the season. Next day, cleaning and planning. The winds continued northerly and I was in no hurry. Thursday cam out clear and warm in the sun shine with a F3-F4 south-westerly it was time to make the short hop around the Start Point to Salcombe where I was able to pick up a mooring buoy without and problems, the sun continues to shine, what a fabulous start to the trip. As the Scots say, “If you don’t like the weather you won’t wait long for a change.” It’s raining in Salcombe on Friday, but I am tucked into the Victoria Inn with WiFi and a good pint, having bought some fresh bread and a fillet of plaice for my supper. The only niggle is the autohelm issue, which is strange since it was worked perfectly for years and was fine last season. The additional chart plotter might be route cause – more investigating is required. The boat is handling well

• The main is flying up and down having benefitted from some lubrication applied to the sail slides in the mast.
• The genoa is furling fine, brute force applied in the cockpit and will wrap itself away.
• Chart plotter is great with repeated information in the cockpit.
• Engine running sweet as a nut and the new alternator charges just fine, although I still worry about amp comsumption. Charging the lap top from boat batteries is not reasonable.

Blue Whales and Tribes of Dolphin

The Sea of Cotez, wedged between the Mexican mainland and Baja California, is a most remarkable hot spot for sea life. The fecund sea supports our world’s biggest creatures and it was a delight to sail the rich waters in to company of the great marine mammals. When I was a kid in the ’70s we run campaigns to, “Save the Whale”, and it’s great to realise the effort has paid its dividends. Open to the Pacific at its southern end and fed by the mighty Colorado river in its northern extent the sea has a huge diversity of marine habitat. I enjoyed being based for 9 days on a 46ft catamaran crewed by an experienced whale watching skipper, Swanny, his able first mate, Sophie and supernumerary biologist Carmen. This team rose before dawn to get the most of the whale watching daylight, cooked meals and generally entertained the 8 guests.

The highlight was a calm day with silky seas, there were 100 or more Pilot whales and we spent a couple of hours

with them watching them as different groups surfaced. We scrambled into the Panga, a 30ft dingy that acted as ship’s tender. Getting that close was enchanting. One of the bulls breched raising himself high above us. We also enjoyed seeing them spy hopping. The Pilot whale isn’t normally so active but the day was about to get a whole lot better.

Out between the islands Blue whales were feeding in the deep 600ft trough and surfacing to take 4 or so breaths between dives. One female was very calm and cooperative. In the silky seas we were able to make close approaches with the water amazingly clear. To see this giant head to tail was an astonishing and moving sight. She and her companions kept us enthralled for hours. Then the dolphins turned up, over 2000 of them is a line for miles.  The special day ended with setting sun gracing the rugged mountains for Baja.

Mountains and unique Eco-systems

At the end of the boat trip Mike and I travelled to the southern tip of the peninsular to hike through the Sierra de la

Laguna. The start was not go as planned because the rendez-vous with our guide was changed since he had to care for a fallen horse. Three buses and half a day later we met up. This part of the Baja California is geologically unusual, being made of granite not the sedimentary rocks of the rest of the state. The granite has worn more slowly and retained a water table that has created a unique habitat in the high mountains. It took a two days of hard 6 hours hikes to make it to the valleys where the endemic species have evolved in the cool pine woods. It’s a remarkable trip from Sea of Cortez coast, across the range to the Pacific passing through dessert, canyons, woods and back to dessert. Drinking water is available from a few mountain springs and camping three nights made for a complete contrast to the sedate luxury pace of the sailing. Not a trip for the faint hearted, the heat and climb are demanding but within the ability of most who are moderately fit.  The place is magical and the high pine forests are rich and not at all what you expect when passing through the dessert. The rewards for the effort were a view of unique Mexico and the reassurance that the biosphere is treasured.

Failed at the Last

Flying home proved to be as much a part of the adventure as whales and mountains. Flights to the UK were suspended on the 14th, the day we returned from Mexico to LA. The plan was to break the journey in LA but no one anticipated the 12 days of disruption.

Just two coats of anti-foul paint sir?

Having been away for a month serving time bothering whales and dolphins in the Sea of Cortez off Baja California,  hiking for four days across the Sierra del Lagoona and finally being delayed 12 days in Los Angeles on the way back to the UK its time to get back to some serious work of boat maintenance. There are some things that can not be avoided, unless you can afford  a man that does. Painting the below water surfaces of the hull with special marine anti-foul paint is one. It’s a messy job and I loath it, not because its difficult or because I end up stinking of hideous chemicals but because it takes three hours and it’s tedious. Then wait 24 hours and do it all again for the second coat.

To make life more interesting some clown decided to park his expensive car underneath the boat. Lucky both car and boat paint were grey!