Having returned to Torquay by train, it was prudent to ‘sit out’ the next day while another weather front passed through. I confess to regrets at maligning Torquay in my last blog because, substantial walks contradicted my previous assessment. Initial impressions were tainted by the semi derelict Pavilion building adjacent to the marina which is now under redevelopment; the disruption while a new pedestrian area is under construction and the depressing aftermath of the demise of Debenhams, whose neglected, empty store commands the epicentre of the town. Our morning walk to the east took us through smart areas of impressive villas, lovely cliff and woodland paths and stunning views.

Our afternoon walk in the west of the town did reveal empty shops and run down houses, but it all seems eminently affordable and probably on the ‘up’ as they tend to say in property circles. The town could boom again if global warming and expensive air travel results in more people holidaying at home.

One of the issues to be remembered with sailing yachts, particularly with an aft master cabin, is the noise made by even small ripples under the stern. I have often turned the yacht to moor bows to the wind but in marinas this is not always possible. In the big winds in Torquay and a fetch from the breakwater directly to our transom, it was likely to be a challenge sleeping. Mindful that we had suffered from some noisy nights in Scotland, I have made a gizmo to minimise the ‘slapping’.

Threading floating rope through sections of ‘noodles’ (tubular swimming aids), to make a floating ‘snake’, it is pulled loosely under the counter to float before the water surface meets the hull and eliminate the ripples before they hit what is effectively, a drum. I have to say that this was largely successful in reducing the noise and only the larger wavelets troubled the hull. We slept well!

Negotiating Portland Bill, over 40 miles from Torbay, is all about timing as the race must be taken on the flood and optimised for favourable tidal streams. It was not popular that this necessitated a 4am reveille, in the dark, and heavy rain – again, but it had to be done. The passage was not enjoyable, with a lumpy sea and the torrential rain driving into the cabin through the main hatch, not the sailing experience to convince anyone of the pleasures of yacht ownership.

Thankfully, our timing and positioning at the Bill was ‘dead on’ and the rounding was as smooth as it could be in the spring tide and fresh wind.  Our destination was Weymouth, it being a pretty and vibrant place to spend a ‘lay’ day while another weather system passed over us.

We were rewarded on our long walk along the coast path to Portland and back, by a spectacular display of wind and kite surfers, taking advantage of the very fresh winds in the smooth protected water of Portland Harbour.

Although there were big seas crashing onto Chesil Beach, the Cove Inn, was not experiencing the conditions from 2014, or we would not have been sat outside on the terrace!

Weymouth was heaving and had a lot going on with live music on the quay, a little too close to our mooring. We managed to take in an accomplished and entertaining  Amy Winehouse tribute band concert at the Pavilion Theatre which provided a welcome diversion. The immense crowds on the Bank Holiday Sunday resulted in queues outside the restaurants which was off-putting until we discovered we could order fish and chips on-line and have them delivered to the yacht!

We helped a similar sized yacht raft alongside us, this is quite normal in Weymouth Harbour. It turned out that they had three dogs on board, and they had liberally defecated on the deck, where we were handling the mooring warps. I am not a dog or cat lover having been allergic to them all my life, but I really can’t understand their presence on an offshore cruising yacht.

The sail to Yarmouth via the Needles Channel in fresh westerly winds resulted in an enjoyable romp and we secured an alongside, walk ashore, pontoon berth in the harbour, with sufficient time to take the 4 mile walk to Freshwater and back.

This is a lovely route following the old railway line alongside the river Yar heading south and through woods and farmland on the way back. It is handsomely rewarded at half distance by libation at the delightful Red Lion pub, next to Freshwater church.

Our intention had been to transit up to Newport in the centre of the Isle of Wight and ‘dry out’ when the tide receded, spending the day chillin’ and maybe using our free bus passes to casually get around the Island.

Unfortunately, our plans were aborted when Richard, woke up with an ear infection inducing vertigo and nausea. Richard has a malformed cochlea in his left ear which limits the frequencies he can hear (although it seems it’s mainly female voices that are the problem!),  so issues with his one functioning ear are more serious than in a binaural individual. I was also thinking that a dizzy crew on deck might be less than optimum or safe, and with the ladies insisting that he book the soonest doctor appointment, we decided to carry the tide straight back to our home berth in Northney Marina.

This turned out to be one of the best sails of the whole adventure with the tide under us, blue skies and a warm, fresh south/south westerly giving us a sprightly beam reach, we flew up the Solent, into Chichester Harbour and up the Emsworth Channel to Northney Marina and our home berth.

Our sailing adventure was over. We had travelled nearly 2000 miles since the second of April with various crew and several punctuations. We have negotiated some sailing landmarks, the Crinan and Caledonian Canals, Orkney, and the Hebrides. Despite awful weather, particularly in the North, it has been a rewarding and memorable, if taxing itinerary. There is now an extensive list of jobs to be done, some emanating from the recent refit, but Hejira should be in tip top shape for next year’s adventure, whatever that may turn out to be. I will be taking modest local trips for the rest of the year which will probably not merit a blog before ‘lifting’ in mid-winter.

Having returned by train to Plymouth, there was only a modest target for the next 5 days, to transfer Hejira from the oversubscribed, QAB Marina in Plymouth, to the sister MDL Marina in Torquay for another period of ‘free’ berthing.

It was a pleasure to welcome old friends, Peter Hoade and Jem Vercoe as crew for the brief cruise, both of whom, having retired to Devon, live relatively locally.

Jem used to work for Atom and has sailed with me since my first ‘cruising’ yacht, the 18-foot Sailfish, ‘Mowglee’ in the  ‘80’s. We upgraded  to the 23-foot Dufour, ‘La Premiere’, which was a Trailer Sailer and was, in retrospect, a pretty crap yacht.  We took her across the English Channel several times to Brittany and the Channel Islands, with a noisy, smelly, 9hp Johnson 2-stroke outboard mounted in the centre cockpit! This was replaced by the larger lift keel, Parker 31, ‘Karisma’, which was a  good yacht although our attempts to race her were hampered (quite apart from our lack of skill…) by a punitive handicap as she had a wing keel (designed for sitting on), fractional rig and long waterline length, all of which counted against her. We took her on some very memorable cruises including around the UK (but cutting through the Caledonian Canal), Normandy on the 50^th anniversary of the D-Day Landings, a stormy crossing to Ireland to (only just) meet my son arriving in Cork as an unaccompanied 8-year-old, and across Biscay to Northern Spain. All of these adventures were with Jem who is now 74 and in remission from cancer, so it is a real treat to reprise our sailing relationship following his 20 years spent living in France.

Peter, at 77 is also a long-time sailing companion and friend, who becomes more ponderous as his years advance.

Fowey is my favourite destination on the English South Coast, so it was compelling that we should take the 22-mile detour, west, to visit this jewel. Leaving QAB early with the favourable current and wind, we hoped that there would be mooring buoys vacated by yachts heading west, taking advantage of the easterly wind and favourable tide towards the Scillies, then, with the wind veering westerly and the tide turning, there should be another exodus to the east. It was a good theory and it ‘played out’ as there was a choice of empty visitors mooring buoys on our arrival.

I remembered Jem and Peter in their more vigorous years and, maybe, the 4-mile, hilly and rugged, ‘Hall Walk’ from Boddinick to Polruan, that I recommended for pre-pub exercise proved to be a little too much for their ageing bodies. They were probably more used to a strenuous afternoon in front of the telly, but they were game and so we set off, with an initial spring in our steps.

As the walk went on, and the repeated inclines and descents took their toll, I became so frustrated with the lack of progress and the stopping at every available bench for a rest, that I pressed on to Polruan for a pint and to await their arrival.

One pint led to two and three as time passed and I became concerned that something had befallen the pair of septuagenarians  and I actually worried that I should not have left them behind. When they finally arrived at the Russell Inn, Peter was in a terrible state, he had taken a tumble down the precipitous bank at the side of the track, into an impenetrable thicket of brambles. It seems that gravity got the better of him on a steep downhill section and he couldn’t slow down, so when the track turned left, he carried on over the edge. They maintain that it took 25 minutes to extract him from the prickly embrace of the brambles and climb back up to the track. His arms were a mass of bleeding scratches and he looked thoroughly dishevelled.

I felt bad for having abandoned them – but it didn’t last long…

Our passage the next day, turned out to be a romp, with the log registering over 7 knots on a close reach for the duration. The river Yealm is another magical destination with the picture postcard villages of Newton Ferrers and Noss Mayo on opposite sides of the creek. We had stayed in front of the rain expected in Fowey in the morning, but it arrived in the afternoon, just as we embarked on the walk around the head of the inlet between the two villages.

Unfortunately, this time, it was Jem who struggled, limping along at a snails pace, repeatedly pausing and grasping every available hand hold with his knee giving him a lot of pain – I suggested he ‘walk it off’ but this didn’t go down well and it didn’t happen.

The ferry service in the Yealm is now shared between two enterprises. From 10am to 4pm it is run by, Billy, an old boy who has clearly been doing it for years judging by the state of his boat and who inconveniently stops for lunch. He doesn’t have a VHF radio any more, and with no mobile signal, getting a lift is a bit hit and miss. He has little time for the upstart electric water taxi, which is a new, very smart, wheelchair and environmentally friendly service. They can be called on VHF and run first thing but only up to 09.45 and then after 16.00 presumably in some sort of accommodation with the incumbent. They are a not-for-profit organisation who are, very tactfully, polite about their more expensive rival, and sanguine about the situation.

Just before our departure, I was stood on the mid-stream pontoon, passing the time of day with another yacht crew, when there was a gurgle from Hejira next to where we were standing. Imagine my embarrassment at the brown cloud that appeared. Peter had not switched the toilet to the holding tank and was discharging his waste straight into the river – I was very annoyed!

What a re-affirming passage to Dartmouth, the only thing missing as we creamed along under sail alone, was the presence of sunshine and maybe dolphins.

Securing a visitors berth in Kingswear, opposite Dartmouth, we could walk ashore but ventured no further than the Steampacket Inn, which was within the scope of the other two.

With the moorings in both Fowey and the River Yealm costing £31, the Darthaven Marina fee was an eye watering £78.39 – we ate on board!

We set off early for Torquay as the weather was set to deteriorate and, although we had to stem an unfavourable current and lumpy wind over tide conditions at Start Point, the blow sped us the short distance to Torquay where a downwind pontoon berth was thankfully, easy to negotiate.

The ‘Hole in the Wall’ pub dating from 1540 was a rare gem in what, in our opinion is a pretty seedy seaside town but it is a safe place to leave Hejira for a week back home.

Jem writes (Peter is still banned from writing):

The ferry lady on the way back to the yacht from Polruan after the ‘Hall Walk’, said it was 5 miles not the 3 on the signposts, and no-one mentioned that it was up a hill then back down then up another steep climb and so on before finally returning to sea level, nice little walk my arse!!!!