Geriatrics

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!!!!