Can you think of the best day of your life? You’ve probably got a few, or perhaps you hadn’t given it much thought. It’s rare that a day happens and then lie in bed on the same evening concluding that it must be one of the best days of your life, but that’s what happened today. Today goes down as one of the most idyllic, perfect days I have ever experienced.
We’d spent the last week holed up in Luli and although good deeds were done it was time to get the hell out of Dodge and go discover some Sudanese nature. What better place than Marob?
I won’t bore you with the sail to this wonderful marsa but the log book does mention that we caught a 3kg tuna, saw lots of dolphins and sighted a strange, unidentifiable flashing object. One night sail later and we were quickly approaching a very tricky entrance to Marob via many hidden reefs. No wonder this coast is littered with wrecks.
One of the greatest things about being in the Red Sea is, of course, the snorkeling and diving. Imagine, then, having the freedom to sail to a suitable location, drop the hook, hop in the dinghy, pick a dive spot and drop over the side with your gear on, ready for a dive! Of course this helps if you have Graham of ‘Eeyore’ with you. He’s a qualified dive master and a passion for diving that is matched only by his passion for sailing and making the best mango chutney this side of Africa. We were also joined by Mick, who was out visiting Pat and Tony on ‘Full Flight’. Mick kindly donated some underwater pictures for you…
To all our friends, family and readers who continue to followtheboat, we wish you a very merry Christmas and a prosperous 2010. We kinda pine for the snow you guys are having back in the UK but then shorts and t-shirts for Christmas day is appealing too!
It’s official: followtheboat podcasts have been accepted by iTunes! If you use Apple iTunes you can now subscribe to our podcasts for free. Just use the search facility in the iTunes Store and type in ‘follow the boat’. Subscribe to the podcasts and set iTunes to automatically download each episode as they come out. Our audio podcasts may be found in the ‘Society & Culture’ section. Even if you don’t use iTunes you can still subscribe to our podcasts. Just follow the link below.
After a great sail we found ourselves in a little natural harbour and, as a reward for conning us in to the tricky entrance, we invited ourselves on board Roam II to finish off the tuna. I diced it and Terry and Liz knocked up a real treat using a secret, magic ingredient of ginger and…well, I can’t tell you otherwise it wouldn’t be a secret, magic ingredient. Believe me though, it was the best tuna dinner and satisfied six very hungry tums. Millie still had a head and a tail to work her way through too.
This is a quickie, just a new photograph we received of Esper under sail with cruising chute, running downwind along the Sinai, Red Sea. Just look at those deep, rich red mountains! A stunning photograph, even if I say so myself!
On this trip we learned a very important lesson: that the best bit of equipment on the boat is ones eyes. Twice we were passed by local fishing vessels that did not appear on the AIS system, something that we had almost started taking for granted. Whilst they passed we were also navigating our way past coral on our starboard side (we were sailing in just 10m of water) and oil platforms on our port. The scary thing is that this was just a taster of what is to come. I’ve just planned our passage for tomorrow and it takes us into an oilfield. This oilfield…
Once off the boat one then had to contend with the comedy pontoon, something taken straight out of the Fun House! Remember the moving staircase right by the Hall of Mirrors? That was our pontoon! As one walked down the pontoon so it tipped and dipped from side to side, and then there were the warps (lines) tied to the large motor boats that one had to climb over, further complicating the trip ashore.
A little of the hocus pocus rubbed off and we struck it lucky by being taken up by a local, who showed us the best place to view the whole monastery and then wangled us an entry. It was too late to see inside the church and the museum (most annoying) so Jamie and I bought lots of postcards of all the beautiful objects we missed and had a cup of tea. We did manage a walk round the impressive grounds and buildings, which was an experience.
In my email round-up yesterday I joked about our pilot not turning up. Well guess what? It is now 07:30, two and a half hours after we were supposed to have departed, and he’s still not here. Oh, everyone else has gone, it’s just ‘Rhumb Do’ and ‘Esper’ left on the bloody dock because they couldn’t get enough pilots. Our departure date has been set to 10:00 instead. Hmmmm…
After refueling and stowing all the crap we’ve bought over the last few months, we left Marmaris Bay one last time. ‘Roam II’ were just ahead and behind us were ‘Stormdodger’ and ‘Rhumb Do’. The four of us would make the first part of this journey as our own little flotilla with the aim of meeting up with the Vasco Da Gama rally proper in Port Said, Egypt.
Constable had good reason to dedicate his life to the striking cloudy skyscapes of Suffolk. Two hundred years later and I’m re-discovering one of England’s finest seaside counties; not with oils this time but with my trusty Canon. The irony of the moody skies I captured, however, was that I had returned to England under my own dark cloud. There was but a whisper of a silver lining and the foreboding weather on the day we visited Woodbridge was about as symbolic as it could get.
This log entry is quite a departure from the usual followtheboat blog: it’s a pictorial account of my time away from Esper, not on it. The shots of the boats on the River Deben maintain some kind of nautical theme, and since we’ve just uploaded our ten thousandth image to the website it’s a good excuse to show off some wonderful photographs. This is England’s fair countryside at its best, captured in my favourite season.
I have just had the sail of my life: I covered 73 miles in 13 hours in 25 knots of wind, passing eight Greek islands along the way. In all that time I passed just four other sailing boats in the glorious late summer sun. Sadly this was the end of my personal Greek odyssey. I am now back in Marmaris Yacht Marina (yuck) preparing to return to the UK. Permit me, then, to conclude my Greek log with my stay in Samos, which is mainly a bunch of photographs for your viewing pleasure (they’re so much easier to digest than words). The last of our summer log entries will culminate in Matt’s account of his visit with Candice, boasting some cracking photographs, but more on that next week. In the meantime I’ve adopted (nicked) Matt’s black border technique for a new-look image presentation. Enjoy.
As we left the island of Arki we were seen off by a pod of dolphins, some so big I thought perhaps they were pilot whales. They weren’t but they looked very big and very old too (two with lots of battle scars). It was quite fitting to be seen off by them, as if they were rewarding us with these favourable winds after the last week of motoring everywhere.
Our harmonious tranquil was interrupted by a very apologetic local who had rowed over to politely ask me to move. “Why?” I asked. “Because the water boat is coming to fill up our tanks. I have no water on my island”. In case you were wondering how all these little islands manage for water, there’s your answer. “So why do I have to move, where’s he going to dock?”. “Right there” said my new friend, pointing to the world’s smallest concrete jetty just a few metres away.
Not quite the polar opposite of Lipsi, but a busy island all the same. Welcome to Patmos, a pretty looking island with some of the best views in the Aegean. The anchorage was sheltered, with a couple of tavernas ashore offering some tender octopus salad and tsatsiki that makes you feel like the whole of Greece is partying in your mouth!
Lipsi. A quintessentially Greek island untouched by the hoards of package holiday tourists that populate the bigger Dodecanese islands. I’d say the people here are a mix of holidaying Greeks, a few backpackers and a bunch of yotties, not forgetting the gentle locals, which makes for a very peaceful atmosphere indeed. These next few log entries, including a special post by Millie The Cat, cover the rest of the Dodecanese islands and start with Lipsi, which is littered with some of my fave photographs of the Dodecanese islands. Let me know what you think of them by leaving a comment at the end of the page!
The motor sail from Kalimnos to Leros was non-eventful, except scaring myself shitless when a ferry appeared from behind a rock doing 30 knots. One emergency collision avoidance maneuver later and Odin and Esper have arrived at Pandeli, Leros, from where I write these last few log entries.
Pserimos is a little island in between Kos and Kalimnos and is clearly a weekend hangout for the young Greeks from the neighbouring islands. The tiny bay in which I anchored was littered with RIBS, jet skis, speedboats and day-trippers. We enjoyed a sundowner at Sunset cafe, where the waiter graciously reduced our beers from €3 to €2.50, stating “I don’t want my restaurant to get a reputation as being expensive”. Even so, €2.50 for a large beer? Clearly I was going to have to do some adjusting, now that I am back in Europe.
“What are you doing in Kos?” my cousin asked over the phone. “It’s full of gay bars.” You’d know I suppose, Jay, I’m just here to use the internet. Easier said than done, mind. When we anchored off Kardemena, a sprawling town for chavs, the northerlies were hitting 30 knots. At least anchoring was easy but I was amazed at how much fetch could build in such a short space of sea. Rowing over to Odin for a beer was ludicrously difficult…
Liz has left me. She has gone and now it is just me, the cat and Esper. To pull myself out of my misery I attempted some single handed sailing, proving to myself and the world that I can stand alone, man against the elements, a conqueror, a hero. Impressive was the fact that I have never sailed solo before; even more impressive was that I managed to log two continents. Well, this all sounds good on paper, but the reality was that my first week was a complete screaming disaster. Dragging anchors, smashed solar panels, dysfunctional engines and rolling harbours all contributed to me desperately wanting my Queenie back on board. All this is set against a background of consistent 25-30knot winds that have been plaguing the Greek Islands all month. The usual self-deprecation is illustrated with loads of pics (look out for ‘Moon Goat’) and a couple of video clips too.
I learnt a lot about sailing, it was like a crash course as I had never really done any hands on sailing previously, all my boating experience has been under motor and I can definitely see the appeal when the engine is cut and you are purely under way using the power of the elements, it is quite cathartic.
We pottered back across to Turkey later that day and had a good wind behind us. It was after taking the helm on a few occasions on this trip that I realised it’s not as straight forward keeping a boat under sail pointing on a consistent bearing manually and requires quite a lot of concentration.
Dirsek is a charming bay, very sheltered, crystal clear water and only accessible by boat. In fact the only other inhabitants of the bay apart from other Yotties are the goats which descend from the hills to forage along the coast. I don’t know if it’s the gradual increase in atmospheric pressure as they descend but they seem to fart their way down which has lead to this bay being dubbed ‘Farting Goat bay’ of course.
We had a cracking meal at the Marti Marine restaurant with a table as about as close to the water as one could get. Our friend Siobhan arrived that evening about 3am, eventually finding us somehow after wandering round the marina for a few hours. Finding a boat is a bit trickier than turning up at the foyer of a hotel, especially when the concierge are all passed out.
It is a sign that no matter what you have in life, there is no substitute for love and as I hug Jamie and Liz before boarding the dolmuş I realise how lucky I am to have family and friends who can provide me the opportunity to live a little.
Seeing Jamie and Liz in their current home was quite emotional for me. For them to come and see my new house in North Essex was a walk in the park, for me to see them six hours from my front door was an achievement only blood can fuel. Touching, smelling, seeing Esper is something I can now carry with me for the rest of my life – now begins my account of Follow the Boat.
In the last six years followtheboat has sailed over 10,000 nautical miles and visited many countries. Those familiar to FTB will know that we avoid boring you with sailing yarns, preferring to entertain through amusing and considered observation, accompanied by great photographs. Some people use our website as a resource and want to learn more about the places we have observed. Others just like to see if we have visited places they’ve been to. However you use followtheboat you will find our latest ‘Places’ page very useful as it helps navigate through the blog via geographic location.
Welcome to the new Followtheboat website! This complete revamp is quite a departure from our old site and we have spent rather a lot of time rebuilding it. But why? It’s only a silly old travelogue! The fact was it was getting to be rather a handful and were forced to make some essential changes. It’s all for the best!
Sometimes writing this log is exhausting but it means we really get to examine our experiences in different places around the world, and our time in Cyprus was a real eye-opener. It’s great to see Liz writing more of the log so I can spend more time taking pictures; we’re working well as a team to provide you with a bit of fun and entertainment.
At Platres we admired the colonial mansions left by the Brits and stopped to wander round Cleopatra’s, a mad shop full of tat and car boot sale memorabilia, run by a tiny ancient ant-like woman with the innate charm of a Lady and well-oiled diplomat.
I could have done with my wide-angle and portrait lenses. I’m still kicking myself for this school-boy error and secretly wish to sail back to Cyprus tomorrow to do it all again. Lefkosia is one of the most photogenic places I have visited to date
When you’ve lived the life of a gypsy, on a boat, in southern Turkey for a couple of years and have had scant access to the delights of western commercialism in one of its purest forms, it’s a little disconcerting to find yourself in a shopping mall… at Carrefour… next to Debenhams and round the corner from Ikea.
Jim chatted about the town of Yeni Erenkoy: “It is one of the few remaining towns left in Cyprus that is still occupied by both Greeks and Turks”, he explained. “They live in harmony with no problems”. As he said this we drove past a mosque on our left and a church on our right, as if to prove his point.
The ensuing scene could have been used for a remake of the film ‘The Exorcist’ as I swung through an 180 degree arc, like the hammock was made of elastic, jerking violently in every direction. Fortunately my head didn’t twist round and curse obscenities, and neither did I throw up purple sick, though I did feel like scratching ‘Help Me’ in my stomach. Like Linda Blair I didn’t get much sleep that night.
With Lebanon across the water and Israel a short hop eastwards, this was a far cry from the usual packed Turkish anchorage, to which we’ve grown accustomed.
The only constructive thing we did was visit the Apostolos Andreas monastery, a beautiful little building with a natural water spring and a couple of nuns. As the following photographs illustrate it is an extremely photogenic place indeed.
Cyprus: Brits abroad? Raving to garridge in Aya Napa? Thronging beaches marauded by decapod-crustacean-skinned Essex girls? A fat, besmirched whore of a destination, over-pimped, blighted and past her sell-by date.
We’ve been chilling out in some beautiful places though, taking in Kas, Kastelorizon, Kalkan and other places beginning with ‘K’, with plenty of pics to accompany stories of ancient Lycian tombs and angry French cons.
We’d heard good things about Kalkan so we anchored in a spot recommended by two friends. The dip in the water was a real treat as somewhere close by there was a cold-water spring in the sea-bed, causing random little spots of cool water in the otherwise bath-temperature seas. Alas a quick dive down to inspect the anchor showed that we were on top of rock.
Nice spot, this one (see pic, above). At last we were out of the Fethiye bay and could once again go for a dip in the water without swallowing clumps of grass, mud or poo. The water was crystal and we even put the basket out for Millie, who seems to think that we magically turn stale bread into fish just by placing the basket in the water. Sometimes it really is that easy.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention International Rescue. Probably because it’s mildy embarrassing, but as long as Gina from ‘Impulse’ is around, armed with her bacon and mint sauce, you know you are in good hands.
When I awoke at 3am this particular night, there was Millie, fast asleep on her throne. When I awoke again at 5am Liz turned to me and just said “Millie’s gone”. Instinctively both of us knew she wasn’t going to return, but we put it to the back of our minds and dozed uncomfortably until 7am when we decided to get up and start looking for her. Our calls aroused nothing but barks from the four dogs who live around the restaurant area on Tersane island.
A fantastic poem submitted by Marcus after his visit to Turkey aboard Esper.
Since Millie wrote her log we have received some pics from Marcus. Check ‘em out. There are some great shots of Tomb Bay.
We prevented the main, pushed out the mizzen and unfurled the yankee to have us plodding along at a few knots in the light airs. As we did so I was aware of a charter boat motor sailing behind us, catching us up. When they did they then turned off their engine and got out their sails as if throwing down the gauntlet for a race!
On one occasion we approached a quiet little corner in Sarsala Iskelesi, slowed down the engine ready to reverse in, when a **** in a stupid red motor boat overtook us, dropped his anchor and tied up to a tree as Liz and I looked on, aghast, with arms raised. And you wonder why sailors dislike motorboat owners. What a prize a-hole.
I can only assume it was the sudden shock of my body having to do physical exercise, whilst flexing my mental muscle over simple navigational tasks, all for the first time in a number of months. Jees, I’m both physically deformed and mentally retarded.
As Liz alluded to we both texted our parents and asked them what they recommend seeing in Malta. Both Liz’s mum, Dorothy, and Dad insisted on checking out St John’s Co-Cathedral, which he described as ‘gob-smacking’.
The prehistoric temples were as stunning as anything on Malta, but having already seen a couple of sites and the National Museum of Archaeology in Valletta (which houses all the goodies, including some superb statues from 5500 years ago, including my favourite, the “Venus of Malta”) we were less stunned than we should have been. Don’t let that put you off, though, it’s an awe-inspiring site and built on a great spot overlooking the island.
Despite my blatant atheism I do love a good cathedral and this does not fail to impress. Whilst one spends many a moment wandering around, mouth open agog at the many splendors that adorn the walls and ceilings, for me the highlight were the marble tombs in the floor.
Tags: ancient, cathedral, church, malta, photograph, photography, ruin, tomb
Category: log
3 Comments
After my watch, which actually saw us into that nasty weather, I attempted sleep in my cabin. It was a bit like riding the wall of death, but eventually I caught some Zs. Ten minutes before my next watch. Still, I got to watch the sun rise on a calmer sea and the good news was we were making excellent progress.
We spent the first hour listening to the VHF, which was a real education. Having done most of my night-sailing around the UK and then across empty oceans, it was a new thing to learn about Philipino Monkeys. For those who don’t k now, all vessels should have their VHF radio on stand-by on the international channel 16. It’s used as a hailing channel and for emergencies but it can be open to abuse.
To help put this little trip into context we’ve included a road map (in the bottom right hand corner you can place western Anatolia within Turkey). The Greek island of Kos is on the bottom left and just off the map under Marmaris is the Greek island of Rhodes. Starting at Marmaris we headed north east through Tavas towards Denizli….
Introduction to our Turkish Road Trip
Welcome to the land of tractors and silver-domed mosques. The south Aegean and western Anatolia region is a beautifully rustic area in south west Turkey that hosts some of the most magnificent Roman sights in the whole of the Med. They say Turkey is an open-air museum [...]
We awoke to the sound of preparation for getting under way. The Skipper and First Mate were determined to take us for a “fantastic Turkish breakfast” across Marmaris Bay. We dropped anchor at “Orange”. Lesley opted to swim to shore whilst we motored in the orange blancmange. We bagged sun loungers in true Germanic style by leaving our towels out and sat at a table in the shade on the decking, facing out into the bay.
After about ¾ mile we broke out and started some serious stuff with 3 sails out, proving that with a ketch rig you don’t need the mainsail if you want to cruise comfortably. Before long, however the Skipper decided it was time to turn right round a full 180 degrees and head due west towards Turunc, which is where we would be mooring up for the night.
Jamie put out a call and within minutes we had a response from fellow yachties (several actually), but the first proved to be the nearest and also have all the right equipment. We gulped a cup of coffee and waited patiently for “International Rescue”. More exchanges on the VHF followed and after about an hour a rib driven by a salty sea dog came hurtling towards us with two divers all togged up with tanks, flippers and wet suits to sort us out.
Tags: anchor, anchoring, astronomy, fouled anchor, marina, marmaris, scuba diving, star gazing, turkey
Category: log
No Comments
Despite being quite close in, we were suddenly surrounded by local boats (including those mini-gulets) passing us on both sides, jam-packed with tourists. This eventually quietened down and gave us time to relax a bit except when the ice cream man came motoring by with calls of “Isa creama, chocka lolly” which we ignored! After a swim & snorkel Mike turned on the hot shower on deck and managed to spray everything on board within range as he was facing the wrong way-got ticked off by the Skipper AND First Mate.
We meandered up the cobbled pathway to the castle only to find it closed, but we did not need much persuasion from Jamie & Liz to climb up to the highest café in town for cold refreshments in the Panoramic Bar. We gazed at the beautiful scenery in the bay and were able to see Esper’s berth in the distance.
Gerald, a fellow yachtie who had previous knowledge & experience of matters mechanical, joined us and proved invaluable. A fan was set up to keep us cool and with plenty of cold drinks, twisting & turning, the gearbox eventually clicked into place. Hurrah- but will it work? Meantime-where is Millyu?
After debriefing we were taken to the Marina swimming pool-memories of swimming up and down looking at the blue skies and hearing the slatting of the rigging in the masts. Was it really only a few hours ago that we were in England? A poolside lunch fortified us for the afternoon.
till, we spotted a turtle whilst running goosewing (Esper was running goosewing, not the turtle), this time with the main, jib and mizzen, hitting up to 8kn speed over ground. By the time we’d reached Kadirga Br., the last corner before Marmaris, we were a sweating, sunburnt and tired mess. We’d travelled over 50 miles today and still managed to get to Marmaris in time to drop anchor, have a refreshing swim, shower, get ashore and have a silly evening with our friends Benn and Becks.
Lessons learned? Rely on no one but yourself. Beware of Turks bearing gifts: they may say ‘yes, we can fix it’ to every problem posed but this is not always the case. We have now spent £££s on this transmission issue (I no longer call it a gear-box issue as there was nothing ever wrong with the gear box) and have wasted over a week at anchor waiting for various mechanics and boat yards to fix this problem. Still, you live and learn, innit?
Tags: gear box, içmeler, lessons, maintenance, oyster, rigging, transmission, turkey
Category: log
No Comments
Icmeler, Bodrum, Turkey
A day after we get our boat lifted out of the water:
In the space of a few seconds the azure skies of Bodrum suddenly turned a dirty brown this morning. Looking up at the mountains behind us we spotted a huge plume of smoke. Turns out it’s another forest fire, but this [...]
We completed a few tacks and successfully overtook another yacht attempting the same thing (10 points) but, after three or more hours we decided to whack the engine on and just get round that damn corner! Shame, as we were having a lot of fun tacking, something that Liz and I have got licked pretty well now (bear in mind we tack with up to four sails out).
The MC incited the crowd into hysteria as the local youths prepared to exhibit their skill and bravery in front of friends and family. The object of the exercise was to get to the Turkish flag at the end of the pole first and proudly claim it as one’s own. Sounds simple, but when you’re wet, knackered and full of bravado whilst trying to run up a greased up pole it’s probably a bit daunting.
Our aim was to get to Datca today but with the wind on the nose we really couldn’t be arsed motoring 20 miles into it so we ducked into yet another Turkish resort, Kuruku Buku. I say ‘Turkish’ resort not because it’s a holiday resort in Turkey but because it is frequented by Turks, as opposed to foreign tourists. Sensibly the Turks tuck the drunken and obnoxious tourists away in places like Gumbet and keep places like Kuruku Buku to themselves.
Our time here was spent, once again, taking some snaps and reading. Just how we like it. In the evening we texted Christer of Lady Jessie only to find that he was in the next bay along, 500m round the corner! We arranged to hook up next morning.
n the morning we stowed and made a slow down-wind hop around the corner, which saw us in Keci Buku, a great little bay divided in half by a spit. We made our way down to the end, out of the way of idiots on jet skis and tourists limping along the sand bar. As we surveyed our potential anchorage we were angrily waved off by a German who was insistent we didn’t drop our anchor anywhere near his precious boat (it was a hand-painted, rusty heap of shite).
The next day we decided to go check out Selimye proper so, like mad dogs and Englishmen we donned our walking boots and strolled the 20 minute walk to the sea front in the blazing midday heat. We hit the first restaurant we came across just to rehydrate on iced tea before continuing along the sea front that is Selimye.
We spied across the bay a lonely old Turk, in his dinghy waving at us. He was right next to what looked like a very pretty sandy bay. No-one else was there.. “Beware of Turks bearing gifts” thought we, but nevertheless decided to give it a go. We anchored and went stern to.
As we neared our destination Jamie noticed another disturbance in the sea (I was still chomping through the admittedly rather poor lunch offering) and at first we thought it was a turtle. On closer inspection we could see a fin appearing now and then, but it was too small for a dolphin. It turned out to be a magnificent ray right on the surface of the water.
It was rather nerve racking having him watching us as tavla is a game in the blood of every Turkish man. They play it from birth and they play it at a million miles an hour. He gave me a few tips, nods and winks as Jamie and I played. I won! We then suggested that he play Jamie. Like the last man standing Jamie bravely battled on, but all in vain as Ali trounced him in the first game.
I tied the painter and walked to the foredeck to shower myself down (we have a hose poked through one of the hatches to wash ourselves down with fresh water after a dip). Liz, thinking she was doing me a favour, decided to turn the deck floodlights on whilst I was buck-naked, sponge and shower gel in hand! Don’t forget the boat was moored up next to the jetty where six boats were tied to, so this performance of me prancing around the deck naked, lights as bright as football floodlights,
We motored half a mile back up the coast to Ciftlik, an anchorage that suffers from severe gusts off the mountains and whose beauty is spoiled somewhat by the monstrous holiday resort. That said it’s a great anchorage in terms of holding on the pick and actually, despite the holiday resort it’s still a pretty bay.
On the very first tack I had Benn sheeting the jib and after getting the sheet round the winch something went ‘crack’, flew down the deck and had Benn mincing around the cockpit looking very pale. Turns out the traveller for the jib sheet had just sheared off and this lump of metal hit him square in the shin, creating a very deep cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding
We passed the the Hospital of the Knights, the ancient Temple of Aphrodite and numerous other treasures in our search for the perfect bar. We found a very nice one and sat at a table facing a girl in a yellow mini dress wearing white knickers (so I was told later). This had the boys enthralled. So began the rest of the trip.
A UK flagged boat called MaryLou had lost its steering and it turned out we were only 200m away from it. I attempted to call them on Ch16 but they didn’t reply as the couple were too busy running around the deck panicking. The poor guy was so distressed he couldn’t remember the phoenetic alphabet for his boat name so we motored over to give them some assistance.
ventually we set sail and made the most of the strong winds blowing from behind and set some more records on Esper, this time over 7 knots with just a reefed jib and no other sail. Still, with true wind speeds of up to 30 knots this is hardly surprising! Unfortunately the winds meant that we struggled to anchor in two locations, Gerbekse and Ciftlik, so we continued on round the corner towards Marmaris and found a great little spot called Kadirga Limani.
We stumbled round the rocky path and into an open plain, decorated with scrub, fig trees, old engines and goats, until we were presented with an oasis of vegetables within the confines of an ancient wall. In this compound stood a tiny brick shack and to get to it one had to walk across a wooden plank that spanned a huge, deep well. We were introduced to a grandmother and her daughter, both of whom lived in the shack and maintained the garden, and the daughters and son of the local goat herder.
Tags: ancient, bozuk buku, citadel, donkey, goats, loryma, raki, ruin, turkey
Category: log
No Comments
Since the wind was up our bum I thought I’d expose mine and stripped off. I’d heard a lot of good things about naked sailing and I was keen to give it a go. It was all fine for about 2 minutes until I realised that the tanker behind us was not the one that had passed us 10 minutes ago going the other way, but another one following us behind pretty fast!
The anchor is well dug in and my transit line still hasn’t changed, but now it’s dark I can’t see it and the anchor chain is making funny noises every now and then. The wind is blowing hard enough that the boat is tipping over and I have to lean over the laptop to readjust myself to an upright position. I can hear the water slopping all around poor Esper. I’m not sure how well I’m going to sleep tonight and I’m exhausted after the six hours of sailing we’ve done today.
We anchored in the lee of the hill and tied to a rock, cracked open a beer and had a snack. All very innocent and quite pleasant. Notice how I make all that sound easy? This was Liz’s first line ashore and she executed this task perfectly. For those not aware, in Turkey it is quite common to take a line ashore and tie to a rock or tree to stop the boat swinging around on its anchor.
Right now we are anchored in over 20 knots of wind and Esper is yawing about the bay and I really don’t know what the next entry will be – we’ll either have successfully hooned it down towards the Greek island of Simi, or we’ll report back on how we had to get Esper dragged off the reef, which is about 20m from us as I type!
Within the first month of launching Esper we’ve managed to clock up 350nm, just cruising around the Bodrum peninsular. We’ve had a lot of good sailing lately. There are some uncharacteristic southerlies in the area, but consistent and strong, so Liz and I have been putting Esper through her paces, which she enjoys very much. More importantly, however, is that Liz is growing in confidence every sail we do.
I don’t remember anything! I do know we stayed up to watch the sun rise six nights in a row, and there was a dawn dip involved somewhere along the line. Also we were joined by Tac and her friend Idil, and they added to the merryment.
It was a worrying time, waiting in Yat Lift for 24 hours whilst the Man brothers set to and worked on the gear box. With Emma arriving in a few days we desperately needed to get back out into the water with a fully functioning boat. Fortunately it was a small problem that required no spare parts and before we knew it we were off again and back to Bitez.
As the boat tipped over and Liz ran around the galley trying to catch cups and plates, Orla nonchalantly picked up her cup as it slid down the table and readjusted herself in her seat, never tearing her eyes away from her book. Meanwhile up on deck I’m shouting at Jay to let out the mainsheet, which was a problem since I hadn’t explained to him what a mainsheet was!
Time wasn’t on our side so instead we sat the wind out which eventually died down, allowing us a wonderful evening in the Coketme Restaurant. This place is family run and the hospitality and food are second to none. Rod Heikell, who’s pilot book we use daily, had made some disparaging remarks about all the restaurants except the Rose Mary.
The anchorage was fairly busy and there was a fair old wind blowing through too. We went for a swim and eventually Jay and I managed to swim to the jetty to go check out this famous beach. As soon as we hoisted ourselves up the ladder we were shouted out by a couple of very unfriendly locals, along with a ferocious looking dog with white eyes.
A good lesson learned recently is that of ensuring your guests are getting what they want out of their holiday, so the first day was spent shopping for clothes to keep Orla happy! Here’s a girl who clearly has her priorities mixed up – shopping over sailing? How very dare you!
Liz’s 50th began with a trip to the hamam with the girls, whilst I busied myself around the boat. When they returned we had just enough time to put together some snacks and chill the wine before we were boarded by 15 guests for pre-dinner drinks. We’ve never had so many people on board Esper!
Being virgin camel wrestling audience participators we didn’t come prepared, for in the venue were hundreds of Turks with their own picnic tables, BBQs, packed lunches and crates of drink. It turns out Camel Wrestling is taken very seriously here and a whole day is made of it. Apparently there is serious betting involved too.
Tucked away under an olive tree in a dark corner of the yard, looking forlorn and grubby was Esper. Just to cast eyes on her again after so long brought a warm glow to our stomachs, despite the howling cold northerlies. The wind in our first few weeks on the boat in the yard was horrendous! Despite having spent some time on a boat up on sticks I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the boat wobbling as the wind reaches gale-force speeds.
Whilst at the top of one of the hills, looking out north towards Bodrum, we could see the sea state was looking a little messy. I knew we were going to be in for a bit of a rough ride, sailing close-hauled back to the marina, but I had to get these boys back in time for their flight.
The other option was Mersincik, but this was a further few miles round the corner and two things bothered me: if the winds stayed as they were and the sheltered anchorage was occupied, we’d have to anchor in open water, and if that was too dangerous then we would have to return to Knidos at night, and we were all feeling a little tired.
Just as I had planned we approached Datcha as the sun was coming up and dropped anchor just outside the town. We celebrated with a beer and a cigar, and then spent the next 20 minutes taking about five thousand photographs of the rising sun, because it was absolutely incredible! Check the gallery out for the new pictures!
Despite owning a boat I’d never been in a boat race until now. I hadn’t even joined a flotilla or taken part in any sailing event other than drinking the bar dry after fighting with the helm for a day or more. Well, fighting with the helm was what happened in the Classic Wooden Boat Race in Bodrum, Turkey. Sails ripped, waves got splashy and the wind got stronger and stronger. And one boat, the oldest Turkish wooden boat in the race, a boat who’s crew included me, didn’t even finish…
We were aiming to have a day off in Bodrum before heading off on the Monday, but the weather forecast was suggesting very little wind and no sun for the next five days. The only wind we’d have was today so I made the decision to get the **** out of Dodge to make the most of the little wind. Chris and Ethan, therefore, beat Tim’s record of setting off sailing in less than 12 hours of landing!
Before going back the Marina, the Skipper decided to moor on the other side of Bodrum Castle. From here we could see all of the Bodrum beach bars and the world’s loudest club (I didn’t hear it though).
We walked to the tourist part of Bodrum (avoiding last night’s restaurant), and checked out all the tacky shops. Clothes shops were more expensive than London so I didn’t get anything, Rachel got an Evil Eye to ward off evil spirits and we both bought Jamie some sausage cushions for Esper to thank him for the accommodation.
To make today even more active we climbed a mountain! (Well it was more like a hill – But it felt like a mountain) At the top it was just the five of us peering down at Gümüslük in the hazy afternoon sun, we could see Rabbit Island, Esper and more importantly the place where we were going to eat tonight.
After a claustrophobic night in the bow Cabin, I woke up tired and grumpy, but glad to see we were already sailing onto our next destination. Perfect sailing weather, the sun beamed and the wind blew as the waves grew. We moored up at Catal Ada for lunch, a beautiful idyllic spot where everyone had a dip in the sea.
By late afternoon we moored up to a buoy in Ortakent and I tried snorkelling for the first time; it was amazing seeing the seabed thirty foot below and little fishes swimming underneath me. I then knew what to have for my evening meal!
Dad was feeling a bit peaky from the night before, so no sail today, but it gave the rest of us a great opportunity to explore Bodrum Castle. The views from the top were spectacular and as I looked out to sea, I yearned to ride the waves.
I fell in love with Esper instantly, especially the wooden decking, the decorative pictures onboard and most importantly the sound system pumping out everything from Blues to Deep House. I now understand why Jamie said good bye to his boat as we went out for a drink in the evening.
Batten down the hatches, climb the rigging and let the cabin boy out of the toilet as we set sail for the last time. FMFF steered, LJF put the sails up and RPL tried his hand at fishing off the back of Esper, two hours later all he had caught on his hook was his finger.
Awoke fresh and lively after being gently rocked to sleep all night in the cosy cabin (thanks Jamie for giving up your bed for us!) waves lapping at the side. We swam before breakfast and even ventured on to land to explore the hobbit hole – the pirate flag was no longer flying so we felt safe.
First maritime lesson don’t drink raki the night before your initial voyage. After collecting the belongings we had left around various venues in Bodrum, a bag in the Marine club, a cardigan on the boat and jogging our memories of the night before with all the random photos we had taken. Did I really get wheeled home in a trolley? and were they really three Russian prostitutes?
We had some good strong winds which took us on a great beam reach back. On the way we tried anchoring off catal ada but the anchor dragged and it was not particularly sheltered so we went on our way. We wanted to take advantage of the terrific winds, anyway, so it didn’t matter that we headed back
We sailed into heavy wind and seas and as we rounded the headland spotted a turtle swimming along our starboard side. It was about 2ft and seemed to be happily swimming along next to us for a while. It put a smile on my face to see one of these gorgeous creatures in its natural habitat.
We had planned to leave Bodrum asap, but plans have a funny way of changing on a boat. There had been a few occasions when it was impossible to get the boat in gear, but somehow each time this happened we eventually did manage to find the gear (thus avoiding one or two near misses with other boats and objects).
There was at least 35 knots of wind and the few other boats out and about obviously had the same plan – to get back safely asap. We discussed down to the smallest detail exactly how we would park the boat without hitting any other boats (or our own) against the pontoon.
We picked up more wind as Jamie poled out the genoa and we ran goosewing. Wow, it was great! The sense of speed was tremendous. We seldom dropped below 7 knots and I was at the helm when we clocked our first 10 knots! With the wind behind us practically the whole way we gave chase and over took quite a few other yachts. Esper seemed to love it as much as us.
This time when we arrived at Gümüslük we again anchored twice, but not because the anchor dragged but because someone left and we took advantage of a better position. Hoorah! Jamie’s fears of anchoring and drifting seemed to have disappeared (although mine hadn’t).
Taç was so taken with sailing that she decided she’d join me on a gentle cruise up the coast to Gümüslük, where we stayed at anchor for four days, so in terms of log entry there is little to say on the sailing side of [...]
Today goes down in history as my most embarrassing moment. It’s a moment all sailors dread. A moment that happens to most of us but one that shouldn’t happen in front of fellow sailors. It should only happen in private when no one is watching.
Here’s a girl with a sense of adventure I thought, especially being a young Turkish girl. It was whilst Tim was visiting that Taç came down for her summer holiday and we decided to take Taç out on her first sailing trip, a few miles down the coast.
The wind continued to gust into the high twenties as we continued to race along, slashing through warm but very wet waves. Every boat we saw became an opponent and before we knew it we were racing another three yachts. We won of course, but not without a battle. The battle was with the elements though – the other yachts either reefed or tacked into various anchorages along the way.
Tim and I gorged ourselves on the mezzes and befriended the most beautiful white kitten. A few weeks later when I returned to this restaurant they informed me that the kitten went missing. They think he was taken by a visiting gullet.
… since we were running with the wind we thought we’d have a bit of fun and pole out the jib to fly goosewing. The last time I’d done this was whilst crossing the Atlantic, and we had a Yachtmaster and first mate to do the complicated bit of setting the sail, but not ones to give up on a challenge we literally stood on foredeck, TomCunliffe’s ‘The Complete Yachtmaster’ in one hand, and a pole in the other!
Over the summer I sailed 900 nautical miles in Esper. Aside from my Day Skipper course eight hundred of these were with people less experienced than myself. Enjoyable as they were, these miles were always a little stressful because of [...]
The day started quite dramatically with a local gullet being launched right next to us. It was very exciting, with everyone watching. After the dust had settled and the waves had calmed down everyone went about their morning business… until someone noticed that the boat was getting lower in the water.
After a quiet night in the marina and the now obligatory thrashing of Liz at Backgammon we headed off to Ortakent where we were told we might be able to grab a buoy… no such luck. We anchored up instead. We were starting to feel confident about the anchoring by now.
After our lovely time in Kazikli it was time to up anchor again and head back to Gümüslük. Sails were reefed to begin with, then full all the way. Unfortunately there was no space in which to anchor so we reluctantly left and went back to Yalikavak, broad reach all the way.
I looked out from the cabin and watched as an enormous gullet in the next small bay seemed to be going backwards and forwards and round and round in circles. Later on Jamie identified the boat as belonging to Stuart, a friend of ours from Bodrum.
I mean black because it was pitch black when we began sailing: at 3am, after a restless and fitful sleep worrying about the anchor, Jamie’s worst nightmare came true as he realized we were drifting towards the rocks…
Today was a simple day sail with me and a whole load of girls. Excellent! Always guaranteed to cause a stir in the marina, especially with it being such a hot day and much suntan lotion being applied to semi-naked bodies.
After Jon did the rounds in the dinghy we went off to practice some man overboard under sail, before returning to Bodrum marina. We tried dropping the pasarelle to lay the warps on in order to assist the marina boys but all I managed to achieve whilst jack knifing Esper in reverse was to gently nudge the guardrail of the boat next door. Oooops! ‘Jon!!!!!’
A lack of wind meant we motored our way to Catal Ada for some knot practice and then headed back round the Bodrum peninsular headland to Aspat Köyü. Here we anchored for the night and I was introduced to red mullet, which is deep fried and eaten whole, head and all. I think this is the first time I’ve eaten fish head, fin and tail but I have to say it was pretty tasty! I thoroughly recommend it!
After a great night’s sleep Jon’s off in the dinghy, rowing to each boat in the flotilla giving them the low-down on what to do and what to expect for today’s sail. It was interesting watching Jon at work and it quickly made me realise I never want to be running flotilla holidays!
Another dead calm day meant we had perfect conditions to practice boat handling techniques under motor. Sounds straightforward, doesn’t it? Unfortunately Jon and I learnt that Esper doesn’t really like reversing. At all. We must have spent a good hour just going round in circles, backwards and forwards, working out exactly which way the prop-walk affected the boat.
The complete lack of wind today was made up for by being introduced to a very nice couple, Peter and Gilly. Turns out my Day Skipper course would include a motor over to Catal Ada with Peter and Gilly on board to check it out as a possible wedding location!
I’d spent a fair bit of time considering possible sailing courses in order to further my sailing skills. The problem was I wasn’t sure what level I was at. Whilst I’ve only been sailing for three years I’ve managed to cover over 8,000nm across a broad range of vessels in a number of locations, but did I know how to trim the main sail properly?
Tags: bodrum, catal ada, day skipper, flotilla, marina, rya, turkey, yalikavak
Category: log
1 Comment
We took the sails down at Kara Ada but it had been a great sail. I was given a new home in the marina too. Nothing unusual there. Every time I come back I always seem to be given a new home! Still, it’s a great way of meeting new people and practising my berthing skills!
Today was an excellent sail to Mersincik, leaving Chris at the helm whilst I learnt a little more about sail trim (boat gets pulled into the wind = too much sail aft of the boat, which normally means letting out the main sail).
Chrichriss, Liz’s brother, was over for the week and Liz had clearly had a word with him. Something along the lines of “Jamie’s getting very agitated living on the boat and not being able to go sailing due to lack of available crew so you WILL go sailing with him!”. So Chris ‘volunteered’ for a three day trip that would involve some more anchoring in new locations that I had not yet visited.
When I took over from Salih on our anchor watch the sun was coming up so I made myself comfortable in the cockpit. It was only then that I realised we had moved at least 50 metres from where we had originally anchored! Hmmmmm.
Regular site visitors will already be familiar with Salih and Bilge, two local friends who join us on Esper whenever they are able to take time out from their busy schedules. Their plan is to buy their own boat one day so any experience is important to them. Salih spent six years working on the gullets, so his anchoring tips should have been useful.
Whilst Liz worked her notice (yes, she finally handed it in but she had to serve 6 months, poor girl) myself and a number of guests sailed over 900 miles on Esper this summer and they are all documented in these pages!
I had arrived in Bodrum the night before and Jamie decided that we had to get out to sea as soon as possible. I agreed, albeit in a kind of travel stupor… I was slightly dazed from the usual heinous 84 hour journey by way of the now predictably useless Turkish Airlines. Without fail every [...]
Some pics taken in 2005 of Esper under sail, plus early video footage taken on the same day too!
When I first took Esper out with a couple of skippers on board, my anchoring techniques left a lot to be desired. I was determined to make the effort to try and anchor the next few times I went out for a sail.
This second trip from Bodrum was a trip around Kara Ada itself, this time with just Salih and Bilge. For me this was an important moment as it was the first time I had ever sailed a boat as the most experienced person aboard. Even on the Aquarium trip I accompanied by three qualified skippers, two of whom were Yachtmasters, so this was a great mental leap forward for me.
Having got quite pally with my neighbour Mustafa it was only natural that I should invite him along on my next trip, which was to be a simple sail across the top of Kara Ada. We were to be joined [...]
It had been two weeks since I touched down in Bodrum with the intention of getting Esper ready for a season of sailing. In that time we had managed to take her out once, a quick motor from Yat Lift to the marina, a grand total of two kilometres! After getting her into the marina I had been itching to get her back out for a proper sail but the weather just hadn’t allowed it.
The “Bodrum Files” is a short collection of log entries that highlight the first few ‘proper’ sailing trips in and around Bodrum. There will be many more trips in this area in the near future but these just document the early trips undertaken in April, 2005. It was a time to get to grips with Esper and also offer up some fun for a few friends.
We had more fun and games sourcing a solution for our entertainment system than any other issue with the boat! Whilst there are expert marine electricians, carpenters, rigging experts and so on there appears to be a lack of information on marine stereo solutions.
Tags: Add new tag, maintenance, speakers, stereo system, turkey, yat lift
Category: boat maintenance, log
No Comments
There were two major plumbing jobs that we left to Yat Lift: the replacement of the holding tank and converting the electric toilet pump back to a manual one.
Tags: bodrum, holding tank, içmeler, maintenance, plumbing, toilets, turkey, yat lift
Category: boat maintenance, log
No Comments
With the addition of stereo, new VHF and various switches and monitors the left and lower dashs in the nav table area had to be redesigned. We decided to take out some of the old electronic equipment, either because they weren’t working or because they were dated and would one day be replaced with new kit.
Tags: bodrum, electrics, electronics, içmeler, maintenance, turkey, yat lift
Category: boat maintenance, log
No Comments
After reading the yacht-owner’s bible (Nigel Calder’s ‘Boatowner’s Mechanical and Electrical Manual’, published by Adlard Coles Nautical) we had a serious rethink about our power sources. Eventually we will be looking to install solar panels but in the short term we had to make an educated guess at what our daily power consumption would be and put that within the context of buying new batteries and battery charger.
A common problem on Oyster 435s (apparently) is leaking chain plates. We left Yat Lift to look at this and upon our return they had recaulked the fittings.
The initial survey report had indicated that a few of the deck planks required replacing and recaulking, whilst we were aware that some of the stanchion bases had come loose. Indeed two of the stanchion bases were leaking slightly, so we got eleven of the twelve bases replaced, and replaced two of the planks.
Tags: bodrum, deck, içmeler, maintenance, turkey, yat lift
Category: boat maintenance, log
No Comments
One of the biggest jobs we left Yat Lift to complete was applying a new gelcoat. These additional few layers of epoxy (300 microns, to be precise) help strengthen the integrity of the hull. If you can afford it, it’s money well spent.
Heart atack at Heathrow Airport! I loaded my cases onto the check-in scales and it turned out I was carrying over eighty kilos, fifty over the allotted amount! Credit card in hand I took the excess baggage hit, which came to over two hundred quid, and that was with 20kg taken off because the check-in girl fancied me or something.
Yes, here we are at last, my first entry in the log… a long time coming I know, but not as fast as the last year has been. My fastest year on record. Wow, what a journey it has been since I met Jamie in Antigua on Christmas Day 2003. From falling in love with those deep brown eyes and embracing smile on that fateful holiday to the launch of what we have fashioned into our own special dream…
Trust me to pick the end of Ramadan to fly to Bodrum. Of course half the population was trying to travel across the country to see relatives and after 30 days of fasting there were some frayed tempers at the airport, including mine.
We left Ijmuiden and got about 5 nm out when I spotted a ‘water-issue’ in the aft cabin. When I say ‘water-issue’ I mean there were gallons of water coming in from somewhere. The skipper and I got to and started bailing as the others turned the boat around. We must have done at least 10 full bucket loads and we got back to the marina on the sea side of the lock. After confirming that there wasn’t a fatal leak (we decided it was a build-up of rainwater from the last week) we headed back to sea again, but the winds of 30kn and F6-7 made the crossing a little uncomfortable.
More rain. We dropped the ladies off right by the station in Amsterdam who bottled the crossing back to the UK. The forecast was anything up to a Force 7 so it was hardly surprising they took the easy route back, but that’s not what sailing is all about! Instead the rest of us waited in Ijmuiden for the bad weather to pass. De ja vu from a year ago!
Rain, rain and rain. Thunderstorms and lightning. This appears to be the weather for this trip.
Enkhuizen boasts a fascinating museum and model village. Unfortunately all the museum plaques are in Dutch but the village is amazing. When I say model [...]
After fuelling up we picked up a strong northerly on the Ijsselmeer with winds of well over 20kn. This gave us a beam reach with a speed of over 7knots, enabling us to overtake pretty much every sailing vessel in our path. We toasted this achievement in the evening with a fantastic dinner in Hoorn, served by a beautiful waitress. Puns on the name of the town have been withheld.
After leaving our yachthaven in Aalsmeer, not forgetting to give the middle finger to the hairy, cigar-chomping Dutch twat who told the skipper off for borrowing a hose (that wasn’t even his), we headed towards Amsterdam. Of course this involved negotiating a number of bridges which meant either approaching very slowly and hovering backwards and forwards until the bridge opened, or, more sensibly, tying up to the posts provided on the side of the canal.
Tags: aalsmeer, amsterdam, bridge, canal, holland, mistakes, mooring, netherlands
Category: log
No Comments
Early next morning the eldest crew member (let’s call him Dave) and myself went in to town to do some shopping and get chatting to some very friendly Dutch girls behind the fruit and veg counter, quipping that we’d sailed a long way to sample their melons (you had to be there). Dave was getting a little over-excited at their friendly demeanour so we pushed on back to the boat
With strong gusting winds we found getting out of the pillared berth a real test of lateral thinking. If you imagine the boat tied bow-to, but with three 10ft high wooden pillars down each side of the boat, we were continually blown side on to one set of pillars. With some very careful manoeuvring and pushing against the pillars from all sides we eventually managed to reverse our way out of the mooring back into the main canal – straight into the path of an oncoming barge one way and a container ship the other! Quick! Slam that motor into forwards and get the hell out!
Tags: bridge, canal, capelle, gouda, holland, hollands ijssel, krimpen, mooring, netherlands, nieuwe mass, willemburg
Category: log
No Comments
We arrived at the Hoek of Holland early Tuesday morning but we still had a long way to go down the Nieuwe Waterweg. This is Blade Runner on water. It is pure industrial mayhem with many commercial ships chugging up and down the water way. Thumbs up to the Dutch for utilising their waterways properly.
Unfortunately I was made to sleep in the saloon, which was odd since there was a spare bunk at the back of the boat. It didn’t really bother me until I realised I hadn’t brought any sleeping gear with me! Ooops – school boy error. The one pain in the ass feature with the drop keel is the big column that sticks up in the middle of the saloon – the drop keel. And when I say pain the ass I mean it. The first time I eased myself down the steps backwards into the saloon I dropped straight onto the steel column, smashing my coccyx. Another school boy error!
Tags: burnham on crouch, cruising association, drop keel, essex, holland, marina, netherlands, north sea, northwinds
Category: log
No Comments
This trip was a very odd one. For starters I’m not sure I was invited. It was skippered by an old boy who, despite lots of experience, should not really have been sailing. But more importantly with hindsight I realise that some of the mistakes that happened could just have easily been blamed on myself. Let me explain some more.
We sailed back to Dover the next day with little to report. Tired but elated we had a great time aboard Barnacle Bill. She had behaved very well and was a real pleasure to sail. Acting as first mate to Jon’s skippering was also a fantastic experience too, so my thanks go out to him for his patience and knowledge! Linda and Jon – come over to Turkey soon!
We slipped the lines at 10am, making the most of the strong tides that run around Alderney Race, though this was nothing like our outward journey. We had the steering back for one thing! After passing Cherbourg we turned the engine off to find that we were doing roughly one knot through the water due to changing tides. Five knots of wind and fed up with the engine on… spinnaker anyone?
We left St Peter Port up Little Russel. The tides were incredible. Fortunately we were pointing in the right direction! The approach to Alderney was quite technical with a number of transits to take into account but we successfully moored up in the SE corner of Braye harbour. Although I had been to Alderney before, where it had p!ssed it down the entire time, it was good to see that the weather was a little better.
Aside from catching some seaweed and taking in some fine sunshine the weak easterlies meant we motored sailed much of the way back to Guernsey. We rafted up in St Peter Port, it being invaded by a French flotilla. We didn’t want to return to Guernsey since we’d been there twice already on this trip but it was necessary. The highlight was discovering an Indian restaurant in town, which Linda, Jon and I rated as perhaps the best curry we had ever had!
Paimpol is one of those French towns that comes to life at six in the morning. The boulangerie and patisserie were open for trade, so too were the cafes and tabacs. That early morning buzz is something that is lost in the UK. The only thing open in the UK at that time in the morning is the all-night garage and McDonalds.
So what was the lesson learnt? Simple really. Always err on the side of caution if things do not seem quite right. Don’t try and ‘force’ your passage into an angle that doesn’t match the suggested instructions. Generally a compass won’t lie so if it’s telling you you are 10 degrees out, then you probably are. Thanks to Jon’s sensible and considered approach we successfully made our way up the river with no problems, despite the fact that all his crew were moaning about him being over cautious!
With Tim and Sharine replaced by Liz, we made our way down towards the northern coast of France, aiming towards Lezardrieux. Lezardrieux is France’s answer to Dartmouth, with pink granite, cider and lots of bottles of Pouilley Fume. The sun came out for our crossing though despite some great SW winds early on we had to motor for the second half of the journey. Still, spending the next 24 hours drinking cider made up for the lack of the sail.
We anchored up at Creux harbour and as the sun went down Tim and I nipped ashore for a quick exploration and then back again to spend an evening of getting drunk whilst at anchor. We explored intellectual topics – just how fishy is fish from the north sea – and looked at the stars.
Tags: barnacle bill, big russel, channel islands, creux harbour, dixcart bay, guernsey, mooring, sark, seigneusie gardens, st peter port
Category: log
No Comments
What didn’t help, however, was the autohelm playing havoc with the steering. It kept locking up! It was starting to get so bad that it was taking over the steeting of Barnacle Bill, often pointing us in the direction of immediate danger. As we approached the south of Sark, heading towards an eastern cardinal warning us of very shallow water, we decided to take drastic action.
Jon had spent much time explaining the basics of passage planning. We had sat down each evening to plan our route for the next day. In Portsmouth we had to decide where we were planning to head to next and we debated two options: either head west towards Devon and Cornwall in the south west of the UK, or sail due south towards Cherbourg.
I started the morning off hunting for a fishing line. The local fishing shop was closed (I thought fishermen got up early) so I hung around the fisherman’s pontoon, looking like I was after a different type of cruise. A bloke walked past in wellies, arms loaded with tats – gotta be a fisherman, I thought – so I asked him if he could help. Sure enough he was about to head out to sea for a day’s work so I wandered down to his boat with him, chatting skate and whiting.
We started off well, skirting our way around the Thames barges down the Orwell, and around Kentish Knock BB started sailing herself. The wind dropped soon after, however, and we were forced to motor sail for four hours. To make up for this we threw an old line out the back of the boat and as we approached Ramsgate we got a bite! It could only be mackerel so as I pulled in the line it went taught and then snapped. Arse.
It’s funny how one can sail the Atlantic, around the Caribbean, through the Pacific – even across the English channel to France and the Netherlands, to Portugal and Spain, and completely forget that some of the prettiest sailing territory is around the Essex and Suffolk coast. Our quick 12 mile trip from Felixstowe Ferry down the River Deben took us briefly into open waters and then back up the River Orwell.
Tags: barnacle bill, deben, east anglia, orwell, river, suffolk, Woolverston
Category: log
No Comments
We stayed on the boat and didn’t go anywhere today. The weather was miserable and by the time we had stocked up with provisions it wasn’t worth going anywhere anyway, so we remained tied to the mooring. I made myself comfortable in the forward cabin, though it was a little tight. Barnacle Bill was, after all, built as a racing boat so the designers, Sparkman and Stephens, had clearly prioritised speed over sleeping comfort. The saloon, however, was very accommodating and was begging us to get through a couple of bottles of red.
You can tell from the crew photos that this trip was a bit of a giggle. In fact it was a complete scream, but the emphasis, for me at least, was to learn much about navigation. This was due to Jon’s methodical and considered approach to passage planning and sailing, but when you own a boat like Barnacle Bill then you’re going to be a proper sailor, aren’t you? This boat is a real head-turner!
Tags: admiral's cup, barnacle bill, channel islands, deben, essex, racing, river, sparkman and stevens, wooden boat
Category: log
No Comments
I met Ray through the inappropriately named ‘Cruising Association’. He was looking for crew to help him sail ‘Wyvern’ around Britain. Unfortunately I couldn’t make that trip due to other sailing commitments, but this was a nice little over-nighter on the east coast of the UK. Very beautiful.
Strange, isn’t it? We spend all that time in Portugal, Spain and France and the weather was not being very nice to us, then as we enter the English Channel the sun comes out and we’re spending out last days on the boat in glorious weather! As Lee scrabbles to complete his sextant readings we approach the River Dart and head into Dartmouth, one of the most beautiful entrances to a port I’ve yet to experience. Poetic.
It was a nasty rainy day and still too rough to leave so the skipper, Lee and I decided to visit Vigo, having been inspired by the local TV station, Vigo TV, which broadcasts sitcoms worse than Crossroads and quizshows with t!ts.
The skipper had pointed out that there was a window of good weather so the possibility of leaving this evening was a real one. The Germans in the wooden ketch next to us obviously thought so and left Bayona at lunch. It wasn’t until we checked the weather that evening that that window of opportunity had turned foul. As dark clouds drew in and the boat bobbed around the forecast was predicting winds of up to 100km! Just as well we didn’t go out when we were planning to as the sh!t really hit the fan. But what of those Germans?
The views of the Portuguese coast were unusually clear. The west coast is notorious for poor visibility and fog. The last few miles, however, were spent with the wind on the nose in a force 5-6, with the bow jumping around and watches spent concentrating on avoiding lobster pots. We approached Bayona on the Spanish border late at night. As soon as we hit the port Lee and I spent half an hour tracking down cigarettes and beer…
After a number of calls to Kevin the skipper we arranged to meet at Heathrow at some ungodly hour in the morning. It felt like one of us should have been wearing a carnation in our jacket, as though we were on a blind date. I’d never met Kevin before but we had been thrown together by Professional Yacht Deliveries to help deliver a Malo 36 from Portugal to Dartmouth, UK. If this were to be a meaningful relationship then it was to be a threesome since we were also waiting upon Lee, who turned up at the departure gate at the last minute.
Although we hadn’t yet bought our boat we were well aware of the thoroughbred qualities of a Sparkman and Stevens. Geoff, who hails from the Isle of Wight, is a frequent visitor to Antigua and his fine vessel, ‘Siesta’, is one such example of an S+S. In fact one could argue he’s really a resident, though he often crosses the pond on his own.
Nutter!
Three hours and forty five minutes before my estimated time of arrival we drop anchor at 6.15am, just in time to watch the sun rise over a beautiful and lush looking island! Cracking open our last bottle of wine we celebrate and congratulate each other on our safe passage which, of course, has been one memorable trip!
Maybe it isn’t going to end. We’ve no wind and we’re doing minus one knot. The air is close and it is baking hot. Everyone is tired and I’ve got a headache. I managed to give myself rope burns to the hand and we’ve run out of gas. Our destination is only 80 miles away and we’ve just been bobbing aimlessly.
The countdown continues and although we’re still over 200 miles away our destination feels just round the corner. Strange, isn’t it, how a half hour traffic jam can cause so much stress to a three hour journey, yet we’re getting excited because we’ve only got 24 hours to go!
Sunday, the day of rest, was spent stripping layers of skin off our hands with some very toxic cleaning fluids.
Got woken up by an excited Timmy at 4am, claiming aliens had visited him! Apparently whilst on watch the sails were lit up by a huge bright spotlight.
Today’s highlight was Simon’s new fairground ride, “The Reins of Indies”, which consisted of a rope hung out the back of the boat with two loops to slip each hand through. Throwing oneself off the back of the boat the body was immediately stretched horizontally as it’s dragged out the back of the boat, which was traveling at around 5-6 knots.
It’s only 1pm and already today has become the most eventful day thus far. At 10am this morning whilst holding the gib sheet Simon told Dobby to steer to starboard and then disappeared down below. With the rest of the crew running round on deck (and Tim reading a book in bed!) I went down below to find Simon lying on his back on the floor, with his hand in the air, looking white as a sheet.
The days have now become indistinguishable, with each day passing very quickly. It doesn’t take much to amuse oneself, sunbathing, the odd nap, reading, playing with the fishing line or playing a round of yahtze, which has become the boat’s official game. Even watching the odd seagull (a very rare sight) gliding across the waves can entertain for 10 minutes or so.
Low on gas. No fresh veg left. Mainsail dropped. Now the spinnaker pole has broken! This is the pole that holds out the gib (front sail) at 90 degrees to the boat so it can run goose wing, downwind. Bit of a bummer since we had westerly winds and we’re heading west.
I’m convinced I saw land today. We passed Cabo Verde and the plotter claimed that the nearest island was approx 60 miles away. If that island had 5000m worth of mountain on it then I definitely saw land. If not, as everyone else recons, then I’m just hallucinating.
Highlight of the day was seeing flying fish for the first time. They propel themselves out of the water at such a rate that they glide for ages. Lowlight of the day: just got through our second bottle of gas, with only two more to go.
All good except I’m a little tired and it’s my second day of giving up smoking (yes, again). This was made up by the dorado caught by Rich – a smallish female, though enough meat to go round. In fact I even made my first fish-head broth for lunch and then cooked the fillets for dinner, which had been marinating in lime juice and garlic.
Getting ready for the Atlantic crossing: we were delayed by a day due to a rather extensive shopping trip (a grand total of 1200 Euros!) and the fact that Las Palmas had run out of gas canisters, all taken by the ARC entrants no doubt. The weather prediction was good, with NE to NW winds of 4-5 – perfect.
Ahhh. Crossing the Atlantic Ocean by boat. Can I put this experience into words? Probably not but as you see I did keep a log for each day and as you read through it you’ll discover that each day was very different. A lot happened. The night time became a lesson in astronomy. Dreaming became a major talking point on this trip. With such a long time at sea a trip like this is no longer an excursion but a lifestyle.
Tags: atlantic, clouds, flying fish, moon, sunrise, sunset, trade winds
Category: log, observation
No Comments
Tim has been on fine form, making a complete dick of himself on a number of occasions. He peaked on Thursday night aboard another boat, Sanuk, when he knocked over the rum punch, slipped down below getting to the heads (we could see him in the toilet via the hatch, preening and dancing whilst checking himself in the mirror), getting back up onto the pontoon and proceeding to pull off some press-ups in front of a large crowd of people celebrating someone’s birthday.
Tags: bicycle, cycle cycling, german, gran canaria, las palmas, puerto mogán, scousers
Category: log
No Comments
