Schlep

As one gets older, inevitably, one accrues more experience and certain niceties fall away in favour of expediencies.

So it is with sailing, gone are the days when I am prepared to sail close hauled to windward for hours on end, beating into a lumpy sea, tacking back and forth, barely making any progress, getting covered in spray, uncomfortable and cold. Now I tend to haul the main sail in tight, bear away, just enough to fill the sail, and use the engine. No shame in that…

Our 156-mile overnight passage from Islay to Dun Laoghaire fell into this category, but this had the further complication of persistent rain. So, we adjusted and softened the philosophy still further. We retained the ‘conservatory’ that we had erected over the cockpit, rolled up the sides and stayed in the dry until we needed the visibility (and ‘street cred’) for our harbour entry. Pragmatist, not purist…

Sitting out a period of strong head winds for 24 hours in Dun Laoghaire, I took the bus to surprise my granddaughters (and what a reaction when I jumped out at them from behind some bushes!) while the other two took the train to walk from Bray to Greystones again.

They didn’t have the nutter to ‘show them the way’ this time, so they got lost – physically, not spiritually.

Our 278m mile passage all the way back to Plymouth was going to take two days and two nights and after another torrential downpour, we had a very pleasant sail through the first night.

The blow that we had avoided while moored in Dun Laoghaire, had left a lumpy sea and when the wind died away and we were unable to carry any sail for stability, we wallowed uncomfortably as we pressed on under engine – again. It is a testament to the Scopoderm sea sickness patches, that John breezed through this period without succumbing to ‘mal de mer’, particularly as he didn’t have the benefit of a mobile signal to distract him.

We were blessed again by the arrival of dolphins as we crossed the Bristol Channel, dozens of them, some quite small, so they must have been whole families. (I have had the ultra sonic anti fouling system turned off) There are clearly quite a lot of ‘pods’ in the Bristol Channel as I seem to always have encounters in the area.

As we have travelled south, the weather and temperature has gradually improved and the crew wistfully, speculated about how much nicer a summer sailing cruise in France or Spain might have been… The sea temperature in Orkney had been ten degrees, whereas, on the south coast of England, it is a balmy 15 degrees. I had packed three pairs of shorts and it was a complete waste of time.

Queen Annes’s Battery Marina in Plymouth is one of the 19  MDL (Marina Developments Limited)  stable of marinas and, followers of this blog, will know that I have had my issues with MDL. I pay over £13,000 a year for the right to have an annual berth in Northney Marina. This is the supposedly all encompassing ‘Platinum Otium Plus’ package which includes free berthing in other marinas in the group. It was therefore disappointing to be told that my stay in QAB marina was limited as they had to ‘make room for a visiting rally’.

Working my future plans around the restricted berth availability, we will return to Sunningdale on the train after a truncated but satisfying cruise ‘over the top’. We didn’t visit many of the places we intended to, partly due to the awful weather but mainly because of crew pressures to return home. Since Inverness, we have logged a total of 883 miles in only two weeks which is a ridiculously punishing schedule of passage making. I have  vowed in the past to slow down and enjoy the sailing and the destinations along the way but, once again, I have found myself suckered into pressing on and I must REALLY try to avoid this in future.

I will return to Plymouth before I overstay my welcome, and resume in a more leisurely fashion with another crew.

Richard writes:

“I’m going to cook dinner”, said Nick, with a wistful look on his face and a wry smile. “Corned beef hash, it’s one of my signature dishes”. Again, that strange twinkle in his eyes. Now, in normal circumstances, when you’re not worn down by days of a punishing watch schedule, your mind would be more alert. You’d realise that something is not quite right.

As it turned out, the hash was surprisingly good; onions, peppers and chillies of course, but also corned beef, potatoes and peas. All washed down with a cup of tea.

“Ah ha” he says, after we had eaten, grinning from ear to ear, “I can show you now, look at this” and produced the box from which the potatoes (Waitrose Rosti) had been extracted. Best Before Nov 2020!

So, if Nick says he’s going to cook you dinner, be afraid, very afraid!