Since returning, I have been in touch with Steve Hancox, skipper and owner of ‘Bryony’ and we have had some interesting correspondence.

Bryony is an old wooden ‘Gaffer’ which Steve restored in the garden of his house in Herefordshire. She is 10 metres over the deck with a 2.85-metre bow sprit.   She is a “double-ender” possibly designed by Colin Archer and was built in Hambourg for a Dutch man in 1922.

She had had several names in her life and, following the restoration Steve felt it appropriate to rename her. He chose to call her ‘Bryony’ after his god-daughter who died while surfing in Thailand (on the way back from an oceanography project in Cambodia) aged 19.  Having achieved so much in her short life  (she was an excellent skier, horsewoman, surfer and even had a private pilot’s licence) she was an inspiration to get the restoration project finished.   As a further justification when Steve looked up Bryony in his gardener’s dictionary, it said that it is a plant ‘of no use whatsoever in the garden’!

Steve and a non-sailing friend set off from Plymouth bound for Paimpol in North Brittany.   With little wind they were using the engine.   About halfway across, the gearbox failed leaving them wallowing and making no way. Surrounded by shipping they broadcast a ‘pan-pan’ distress call to alert the ships in the area. A pan-pan call is one down from a Mayday and is an alert that you have problems, you don’t necessarily need assistance but that the situation might escalate into a Mayday distress. They exchanged VHF calls with some local ships and waited for the forecast northerly winds to fill in. When the wind finally picked up they tried to tack back towards the English coast but it was directly from the Plymouth direction so, they abandoned the plan to return to Plymouth and resumed their passage to Brittany.   With the wind directly behind them, a big sea running and inexperienced crew, Bryony was in danger of a damaging crash gybe so Steve decided to proceed under headsails alone.   They made good progress with a cruising chute, but this was handed when the wind became too strong.    They were then progressing slowly with just the staysail, waiting for dawn before hoisting further sail.

By this time, Bryony was already long overdue, and relations were concerned for their safety and alerted the French Coastguard authorities. This prompted the helicopter search and our exchanges with Cherbourg Coastguard which I have covered in the earlier ‘Mayday’ blog.

Bryony adjusted her destination to Lezardrieux being nearer and relatively easy to enter under sail and liaised with the French ‘Sauveteurs en Mer’ who had been briefed by the Cherbourg Coastguard. They assisted Bryony onto a pontoon berth where she remains while a replacement gearbox is sourced and fitted.

A satisfactory ending to the story and a happy tale to nicely ‘book end’ my Repatriation series of blogs.

Steve writes:-

I am extremely grateful to Nick and the crew of Hejira who relayed messages between us and the coastguard at Cherbourg who were just out of range of our VHF.   I am sorry (and a little embarrassed) to have caused so much inconvenience and trouble.   We were not in danger at any point.   My main concern was that our families would be worried, and it was a great relief to be able to pass a message to them.    Sadly, sitting at the chart table giving positions and liaising over the VHF while rolling with the following sea was too much for me and I had to make use of the nearby bucket, adding to the concerns of those unfortunate enough to be listening.

I was concerned about heading for the N Brittany coast with an onshore wind and no engine.    Although our intended destination was Paimpol I thought it would be wiser to put into Lezardrieux where we could enter even at low water and at least find an anchorage.     We would have had to wait about 4 hours before we could enter Paimpol.  In any event, having some knowledge of the fearsome rocks and streams in that area I didn’t have the courage to attempt it without an engine.    Generations of sailors have, of course, entered Paimpol under sail alone, but they knew the waters much better than me, and were much better sailors!

By the time we got there the wind had shifted into the West and we ended up having a perfect sail up the Trieux river, anchoring just before the marina.    The coastguard had requested that we contact them by mobile phone once we were close enough to have a signal and we liaised with them all the way in.   They couldn’t have been more helpful.    They put us in touch with the Sauveteurs en Mer in Loguivy who kindly assisted us onto a pontoon.

Apart from a heart-warming reassurance about the kindness of the French coastguard, Sauveteurs-en-Mer and other seafarers (such as Nick) I think the main lesson for me is while being safe is important, letting others know you are safe is important as well.    I will be giving some thought to what else I could have done to let those worried about us know that we were OK.    Maybe a satellite phone is a good option.

This is an Email from Andrew, Steve’s crew on Bryony:-

Hi Nick,
Just to say many thanks for your kind assistance when we needed to reassure the outside world that we were dealing with the gearbox failure causing the apparent complete lack of forward progress. For me just boarding a vessel with my old co-adventurer means we will find entertainment and, whatever happens, we can deal with it.
I have dined out already on the story of Steve being below on the radio with me grimly hanging on to the tiller while he continued to chant “everything’s fine” between large chunders into the adjoining bowl. Stiff upper lip at its finest. When you relayed “no need of assistance”, you did then add “there seems to be some sickness aboard” which made me laugh out loud. Steve remained remarkably good-humoured about my insensitivity. If the tables were turned, I would not have been so good tempered.

I’m not the sailor but the only thing going for me, other than (mostly) ignorant obedience, is that I’m not a puker.

Anyway thanks again and I look forward to receiving your missives. Looking for more sailing adventures in the future and, truth be told, I might find it a bit dull if next time we have a sunny breezy sail all the way across. I’ll just have to put sawdust in the gearbox again. Steve need never know.
All the best,

Andrew (Cabin Boy of the elderly variety)

We did manage to evade the zealous Yarmouth Harbour fee collectors and after a sumptuous full night’s sleep, we slipped our mooring at 06.45 bound for Northney Marina. Heading down the Solent under a clear blue sky and with the tide under us, we had the best ‘white sail’ sail since departing the Cote D’Azur – ironic (maybe prophetic) that we had to wait until we were 15 miles from home!

So, the 2000-mile mission to rescue Hejira from the relenting and damaging sun, avoid the £50K second VAT levy and to bring her home to where I have confidence in the quality of the workmanship to correct the butchery inflicted by the French Contractors is now completed. That it would not have been necessary, had we not exited the EU masks the other reasons for the repatriation and it only served to make the decision easier. Covid prevented access and then delayed our departure. With the Brexit induced VAT deadline looming, the return passage became something of a chore to beat the imminent equinoctial weather patterns and I am grateful to my crew who accepted that the mission was just that, a mission.  We had intended to cross the Atlantic again last autumn and return to the UK via the Caribbean and the East Coast of America but Covid had already scuppered that plan.

The Med is wonderful and warm with a huge diversity of cultures and some fabulous places to visit, some of them unspoilt if you are prepared to seek them out. I have merely ‘scratched the surface’ so I can only comment from my own experiences.  Most Mediterranean passages involve no more than one overnight sail between destinations which is appealing to those (usually partners) who are not that keen on the actual sailing experience. I have found however, that it tends to be compromised by too little or too much wind – they say you motor between storms. It should certainly be visited but the return leg back to the UK can be a torture unless it is tackled over several seasons. As a result, many British yachts are marooned there, and the new VAT regulations mean that they may never return.  Another downside of the Med is that, in places, it is crowded and very expensive to moor. There are countries I wish I had spent more time exploring and may do so in the future, I only touched North Africa and the Greek islands and didn’t venture as far as Turkey or the Black Sea – maybe one day.

Since leaving Baie des Anges last month, we have logged 2057 Nautical Miles and regrettably, run the engine for 318 hours, not something to be proud of but it is what it is and it is, finally, mission accomplished.

So, to my most recent crew. Carl has bared his soul in the previous blog but, despite the unfortunate affliction that struck him down, he always, even when barely conscious, had a quip to lighten the situation and to bring a smile. He has said NEVER again but it may be like childbirth, never again until the next time… He will always be welcome.

Peter has been with the ‘mission’ from Nice and what a great character to have on board, his softly expressed, lugubrious, quirky observations always bring a smile and he never fails to be willing and reliable when the ‘chips are down’. He has an open invitation.

I would also like to thank ‘Crackers’. Although he couldn’t make this leg, I know he would have liked to and his contribution to the earlier ‘big one’ was immense and appreciated. Welcome anytime Richard!

Not forgetting Andrew and ‘Toad’. Peter, my next door neighbour is ‘Toad’. He is a bonafide Wind in the Willows character and the subject of a number of Covid (excuse) adventures He and Andrew very kindly drove us to Gatwick and back from Northney – thank you!

The degradation legacy of 18 months of neglect and persistent sunshine was mostly overcome with cleaning fluids and WD40 but some issues are more permanent and require repair or replacement. Of the damage, some has been more recently inflicted by stupidity or lack of care and mostly on my part. The Nespresso machine’s launch across the galley in the Biscay ‘blow’ to disintegrate on the floor was unnecessary and the ice machine crashing out of its cupboard to smash onto the cooker was very annoying in that the door had simply not been shut properly and in its short life, it had not fulfilled its potential. First World problems I guess, maybe I should  just relax and enjoy the apricity!

Since I started the Hejira blogs, it has been a reliable formula for keeping family and friends informed, entertained and engaged. I believe that by encouraging the crew to contribute, it has enhanced morale and helped to maintain on-board harmony. It is also a cherished record of my adventures that I revisit occasionally to fondly reminisce. Where I go from here with the website and blogs remains to be seen. I am likely to potter more locally at least until the Covid situation is resolved. Would drying out on the mud at Ashlett Creek behind the Fawley Refinery oil tanker berths be as interesting to a reader as the Blues Festival in Basil’s Bar on Mustique – probably not…

So, with that thought, I will sign off – until the next time!

The updated weather forecast coupled with our delayed crossing necessitated a rethink. With the wind veering to the NNE in the evening, we didn’t relish the prospect of just bashing back in 25 knots on the nose. The better option was to take the 3 hour shorter crossing to the Needles, get in earlier and pick up a mooring buoy off Yarmouth for the night. An early start will catch the tide and should provide a good beam reach all the way back to the Chichester entrance, a sweet taste to end with, and contrast all the laborious hours under engine.

Carl’s belated view from the galley:

Time is a great healer. Hold that thought.

Without a shadow of doubt and fear of contradiction I can confirm the first sixty hours of this passage rank as some of the worst of my short-lived life. As many of you will be more than aware, seasickness is a shocker and can bend even the strongest to their knee, both literally and metaphorically. Not that I class myself in that hearty bunch. Any longer.

So, having taken to my berth for the duration I do feel it necessary to bare my soul and confess my shortcomings: I have been woeful at best and useless at worst. I have justifiably been accused of going AWOL and of the wilful dereliction of my dietary duties. Billed as being the galley equivalent of the Galloping Gourmet, I have underwhelmed at an unprecedented level and my sole contribution to onboard fayre amounts to passing-round the ginger nuts, and unwrapping the odd Werther’s Original. Very poor.

Speaking of odd, my two erstwhile companions, First Officer Hoare and Captain Moans, are made of far sterner stuff but not without a surprisingly compassionate side. The former lacing my water with a foul-tasting diaralyte to keep me hydrated. The hardy latter covering me up with his grimy wool sweater as I lay both shivering and retching in equal measure. Touching,  and not of the inappropriate manner. I won’t hear a good word said about either of them. Probably…

Thankfully, the arrival of last night’s helicopter heralded my long-awaited return to some sort of form. I had already been awakened by Nick’s somewhat worrisome calls with the French coastguard and what subsequently transpired was, to a dedicated (and recently reconfirmed) land-lubber, nothing short of exciting, to the point of me being an overly intense participant in a sodden episode of ‘Police Camera Action’. Thankfully, those in charge kept their heads whilst others were losing theirs – chapeau! Seeing/hearing Channel 16 being so effectively used in the intended manner and eventually, via our role as communications go-between, making contact with the stricken ‘Briony’ was both enlightening and rewarding. And with a happy ending – Over…

Now, back to time. The question I ponder is, will there ever be enough time in this infinite universe to make me consider embarking on such an escapade ever again with ol’ Nick Bligh? I’ve been fortunate enough to have enjoyed some tremendous passages with him and his nautical pals in the past, but those sixty hours were truly something else and, whilst I’m never one to say never…er, NEVER!