A little bit stopped and a little bit going...

Current Location:  Stormbound in Crookhaven, SW Ireland.

Places visited since last post:  Courtmacsherry, Glandore/Union Hall, Castletownshend, Sherkin Island (Baltimore Harbour), Baltimore, Fastnet Rock, Schull.

Ahoy there from Crookhaven, on the South West tip of Ireland.  We are hunkered down on board as the wind howls through the rigging, the rain squalls lash down with almost predictable regularity, and we swing about merrily on our anchor.  As I write this, at the crack 12.30pm, Eloise, wearing only her pants, has the face paints out and is working on an intricate design on Angus' face, whilst her own is decorated with a delicate flower on each cheek and some rather over-expressive brown eyebrows.  Despite the fact it is nearly lunch time, she has declined so far to get dressed - she knows that as soon as she does, we'll say it's time to go ashore, which will mean clambering into a soggy dinghy in pursuit of a windy, wet walk in full waterproofs, and she is making sure she puts that off for as long as possible.  Angus has been serenading us with his guitar, while Eloise and I have finally got around to downloading all the photos of the trip so far on to the boat laptop (thank you Dominic and Anna for lending it to us!).  The forecast for the next 24 hours or is for pretty strong winds, and the radio keeps re-issuing "small craft warnings" from the Coastguard, so we are notplanning to leave the harbour until this blows through.


We are now almost a month into our trip, and this is the first day that we have been forced to stay in port because of the weather.  The lovely high pressure system which sat so still for so long over most
of the country has now well and truly gone, and we seem to be starting a more typical pattern of recurrent lows, complete with warm fronts, cold fronts and their corresponding rain squalls and winds.  Angus and I are studying these with more interest than either of us have ever previously shown in the weather, as we try to figure out when we might get a window to hop north.  In the meantime, we have become regulars at O'Sullivans (not O'Driscolls as I mistakenly called it on our
facebook page), which is full of storm-bound sailors grimly studying the weather on their iPads, friendly Irish families on their holidays, and even the odd local, although Crookhaven's population numbers only fifty, so they are few and far between.  Angus is slowly working his way through their barrel of Guinness, whilst Eloise and I stick to our usual boring lime and sodas.

With the recent increase in wind strength mentioned above, we have started to experience some rolly nights at anchor.  The first of these was a couple of nights ago in Baltimore Harbour, where a strong-ish westerly blow was forecast, so we nestled ourselves in the lee of the cliffs of the fantastically named Sherkin Island on the west side of the harbour, where the pilot book suggested the shelter would be good. Indeed the shelter was very good, and our anchor held perfectly, but sometime after we went to sleep, a persistent swell started up, rocking Snow Goose from side to side.  This is what Eloise accurately refers to, very sweetly, as being "a little bit stopped and a little bit going"; and unfortunately even she was woken at various points in the night to cast this judgment on our predicament.  Had we been expecting a "little bit stopped and a little bit going" kind of night, we would have stowed the boat as if for sailing before going to bed.  Leaving the drying up for God to do as we slept, balanced precariously on top of the "fridge" led to unnecessary and noisy testing of the
"unbreakable" crockery in the night.  Now, should you ever find yourself unexpectedly in a rolly anchorage, there are various techniques that can be employed to counteract the "little bit going". If you are very small and your bunk is very large, because you have the entire front cabin to yourself on the grounds that you go to bed before your parents, then you are in luck.  You can simply lie face-down across your vast cabin, thus stopping the roll.  If you are bigger, and your bunk is smaller, then lying across your bunk will not be possible.  In this case, you can try the Angus technique - face-down-elbows-out, with one bent knee cocked to the side in a well braced recovery position.  If, however, you happen to be five months pregnant and therefore it is basically impossible for you to lie on either your
front or back, then good luck to you.  The best I can suggest is that
you press your back firmly against the side of your bunk, hope your
bump will be sufficient to prevent you from rolling forwards, and
remind yourself that as it grows over the next couple of months , it
will become an even more effective anti-roll weapon.  Our second rolly
night was last night, when the previously forecast southerly wind
decided to blow hard from the east, thus coming straight into the
entrance of Crookhaven, bringing a swell with it, but fortunately it
was quite short lived, and we were armed with the previously learned
techniques highlighted above.
I mentioned our "fridge"; it is essentially just a cool-box with a
fan.  At the start of our trip, when we were cruising down the west
coast of England, it was easy to buy ice from the shops wherever we
stopped.  This, combined with running the fan for a couple of hours
each day (whilst we had the engine on), seemed to keep it quite cool.
As we headed west, the ice supply dwindled, and with it the cooling
properties of the fridge.  Now that we have not seen a bag of ice for
sale since we left mainland UK, the fridge is regarded simply as a
food storage location.  This brings a whole new logistical
consideration to shopping and fresh food management, especially as
some of the places where we stop do not even boast a shop.  Fresh
milk, we have discovered, is utterly pointless.  We now buy only
longlife milk, which lasts suprisingly well for two or three days at
room temperature.  Yoghurts, similarly, are good for a lot longer than
you would think.  Chicken is not one to risk, so we eat that the same
day, unless it was bought frozen, in which case the next day is fine.
Cheddar cheese just gets more mature than its manufacturer intended,
and is a bit squishier, but otherwise keeps for a while.  Bacon seems
OK for a day or two, and fruit and veg are happy in their hanging net.
Angus keeps his beers in a net, slung over the side of the boat.  So
we have it all under control.  Who needs a fridge, anyway?
The final thing to mention before signing off, is the "scattering" of
the wonderful Gathering Cruise.  This was an organised cruise which we
joined for a few days, and were warmly welcomed into by the mostly
Irish participants, as we headed west along the South Coast of
Ireland.  It involved a lot of BBQs and parties, but no other
two-year-olds (or children at all, for that matter).  Everyone doted
on Eloise, and she found herself participating in Irish dancing long
after her bedtime.  To the rest of the Cruise, we probably seemed a
bit peripheral.  We always left the parties earlier than everyone
else, and we always anchored (for free), rather than rafting up 3-5
deep on pontoons or marinas.  We went our own slow way after
Courtmacsherry, and thought they were all headed for Dingle, which is
a lot further around the coast, so we didn't expect to see them again.
We had a lovely surprise when eight boats showed up the evening we
were in Baltimore, having not made it as far Dingle in the end, and
there was a spontaneous "scattering BBQ" in the marquee at Baltimore
Sailing Club.  It was great to have the opportunity to say goodbye to
our new friends, and for us, this marked the end of cruising Ireland
in company.  Or so we thought... until we entered Crookhaven yesterday
and saw some friends who we met in the Scilly Isles, on their yellow
boat "Fair Grace".  They have a daughter a year younger than Eloise,
and are heading the same way as us, so it looks as though we won't be
alone afterall.
Fair winds and good health to you all, and keep in touch - we love
hearing from you.
Laura, Angus and Eloise xxx

A very sobering day

Current location:  Kinsale Harbour

Places visited since last post:  Porthcressa Bay and St Mary's Harbour, Scilly Isles. Crosshaven and Oysterhaven, Ireland.

Life goes on happily aboard the good ship Snow Goose.  Eloise has really got the hang of life aboard, and speaks in full sailing lingo now.  She can be heard to say, "Daddy, I'm just going on deck to help Mummy service the winch because it's too full of yucky grease," or more appropriately this afternoon as we contemplated a walk ashore, "Mummy, hopefully it will be raining when we get ashore, and then we can just go to the pub!".  At the end of our glorious week in the Scillies, we parted unceremoniously with our old, broken outboard engine (plus a few hundred quid) and are now the happy owners or a brand new, smaller, lighter and more reliable beast.  A bolt fell out of the bottom of the old one, followed by the drive shaft which fractured, and it would have been a long old row if it hadn't happened near some sailing friends who towed us back to our boat...

We had a wonderful crossing from St Mary's Harbour in the Scillies, to Crosshaven, on the Cork Estuary, which took us 29 hours in total.  We managed to sail by day, but the wind died overnight and we were forced to motor, which rather spoiled the beauty of the moonlit night.  Eloise was sick a fair few times en route, but as ever she seemed unaware she was feeling sick until the "dirty cough" reared its ugly head, which was particularly unfortunate for Angus when he was lying on the bunk next to her reading her a story, but quite amusing for me from the safety of the cockpit.  Luckily there was a great launderette in Crosshaven and the lady there was only too delighted to lighten my wallet by 15 euros in return for a bag of washing...

The Irish have well and truly lived up to their reputation of being friendly, generous and welcoming.  Within hours of our arrival, Angus had chatted up a lifeboat man who was doing lifejacket checks, and secured the loan of his private mooring when we head further west, as well as his business card, with instructions to "Call me, if you have any questions at all about anything while you're here..".  We have joined the "Gathering Cruise" which is an organised group of boats headed west along the coast with planned meet ups at various points.  We have met lots of wonderful people through this, many of whom are local to the places we are visiting.  Last night we stayed in a beautiful inlet called Oysterhaven, where there was a BBQ laid on for us.  We showed up, complete with our two-year-old in tow, and realised that not only is she the only child on the cruise, but in not having grey hair yet, we too are in the minority.  No matter, Eloise saw her opportunity and settled down with some surrogate grandparents, encouraging them to help with her colouring.  Then the media team showed up, who were very youthful, and she had the playing football with her within minutes.  After an hour or so, she had a microphone attached to her dress and was being interviewed about her trip.  I think she lost them slightly in the story of how elephanty went for a swim from the dinghy and Grandpa Speedboat caught him...  The media team, who are making a documentary for the nautical channel (?!) we're so taken by her that they were going to come on board and film her in her cabin today.  I even gave it a really good tidy up and arranged her teddies, pictures and flags this morning in preparation, but then Eloise was overtaken by a much bigger story which unfolded before our eyes today.

A Dutch registered training Tall Ship, Astrid, was anchored last night in Oysterhaven and her crew joined us at the Gathering Cruise BBQ.  The trainees were teenagers from all over the world.  She led our flotilla this morning, out of Oysterhaven, bound for Kinsale, just 5 miles west around the coast.  It was blowing force 5-6 and was rough.  Tragically, Astrid never made it to Kinsale.  Her engine failed and she had left herself no sea room to save herself.  She could not sail out of her situation, and none of us little yachts could do anything to help her.  A Mayday was sent out to the coastguard requesting air and sea assistance.  Within frighteningly few minutes she was up against a sheer cliff, pounding against the rocks. It was clear she was going to sink, but not at all clear what would be the fate of her thirty crew.  Although there were eight yachts with her in the flotilla, there was nothing at all that any of us could do to help; for any of us to go in close enough to try take casualties off her would render us the next addition to the emergency.  One of the other yachts led the primary radio communications with Astrid, from on deck via his handheld VHF radio.  A handheld signal does not transmit far, so Angus took charge of the "Mayday relay" to Cork Coastguard using our main VHF from down below, whilst I held us on station, near enough the scene to see it, but far enough that if our engine failed too, we would not join it.  Eloise was a complete superstar and, at our request, lay silently in her bunk for the whole hour or so that followed.

It was the Kinsale inshore lifeboat crew who were the heroes of the day.  Even they, in their powerful RIB with their incredible boat handling skills, could not get near enough to Astrid to pluck people from her decks.  Having somehow transferred a lifeboat crewmember on to the stricken vessel, they helped the Dutch skipper to launch a 25 man liferaft, and transfer 12 crew into it.  The inshore lifeboat managed to tow the liferaft out to a yacht standing-by, and transferred all 12 safely aboard.   The liferaft was then returned to Astrid, and the remaining 18 crew got in.  The inshore lifeboat again began slowly, slowly to tow the raft out clear of the rocks and the ship.  At this moment, at least 40 minutes into the Mayday, the Courtmacsherry all-weather lifeboat arrived on scene, as well as the cliff rescue team and a helicopter.  As the 18 crew from the liferaft were helped aboard the all-weather lifeboat, Astrid gave up her unequal struggle, listed to 45 degrees, and her decks finally sank beneath the waves.  It was a tragic sight.

Kinsale is awash with press.  The 25 man liferaft is still sitting on the main slipway, cordoned off.  Shops and local people provided hot food, clothes and shoes for the survivors, who were rescued in just their soaking clothes.  Everything else went down with the shop.  The bar of Kinsale Yacht Club was full of blankets and bags of wet clothes.  The community has fed and housed the shipwrecked crew who lost all their paperwork, and many of whom need emergency passports before they can fly home.  It is a tragedy that such a beautiful, irreplaceable ship was lost today, and as ever there are many lessons to be learned.  It is a credit to the bravery and skill of the RNLI team that all 30 crew are safe and well; without their skills there would undoubtedly have been lives lost.  It was one of the most humbling and terrifying reminders of the power of the sea, and the danger of a lee shore, and one that I hope we will never witness again.  Eloise was upset by the sinking of the "pirate ship" on the rocks.  She has a pirate book with this song;

"Lil steered the pirate ship all on her own,
Round the raggedy rocks, the wicked whirlpool, safely home."

She keeps saying, "Poor pirate ship.  They needed Lil to steer it.  Perhaps Lil was steering the lifeboat?  All the people were rescued in the liferaft.  Poor pirate ship...."

What a day.  Sorry for excessively long post.  Google "Astrid kinsale" if you want to see some video footage.

Adios amigos, lots of love, Laura, Angus, Eloise and slowly enlarging bump..

The moment we fix one thing, something else gives up!

Current location: at anchor in St Helen's Pool, Scillies

Places visited since previous post: River Fal: St Just, Mylor.  Scillies: St Agnes / Gugh (the Cove), St Mary's (Porthcrssa Bay)

It is day thirteen of our trip and we said goodbye to Dad and Lucy yesterday after a fantastic few days on board.  They arrived just as significant things were starting to pack up on us, and indeed we had to divert them from Newlyn to Falmouth as Snow Goose had scuppered our plans.  Despite the diversions and delays, they squeezed themselves into the forward cabin, put up with the very reluctant sliding doors and sharing the heads with us, and were entirely uncomplaining for the whole trip.  We really had a wonderful time with them.

I mentioned "significant things starting to pack up".  Snow Goose is the same age as me, but I think on balance I am ageing rather better.  No sooner have we fixed one thing than something else breaks.  For the first couple of days it was just broken blocks (pulleys) and replacing rusty shackles.  The outgoings in the chandlery were minimal.  After a couple more days, it became clear that both our fresh water pumps - the foot pump in the galley and the hand pump in the heads - were on their way out.  I am an uncomplaining galley slave, but fifty pumps with the foot just to fill the kettle seemed excessive, and the enlarging puddle of water by my foot was suspicious.  I reported to the ship's engineer, and after a more significant trip to the chandlery he returned with two new pumps, replaced both, and extraction of fresh water from the tank is now considerably easier.

Then, a week into our trip, our starter motor gave up on us.  We sailed merrily off our mooring in St Just, planning to head to Newlyn.  The wind died, so we went to start the engine... but the engine showed no signs of life.  I turned the boat to try and ghost towards a safe anchorage, whilst Angus opened up the engine, stuck his head in, hit something with a hammer, and hey presto, it started.  Hammer-hitting is not an ongoing recommended method of coaxing a starter motor into action, particularly when heading offshore in no wind to the Scillies, so we crossed the River Fal to Mylor in search of a more permanent solution.  We found a lovely engineer, waited a day for a new starter motor to be couriered, parted with more hard earned cash, and were ready to go again.

With Dad and Lucy now aboard, and the sun shining, we headed for St Mawes for the afternoon, before a night passage to the Scillies.  As we left the dock, we noticed to our slight desperation that our depth sounder had now decided to stop working.  Anchored in St Mawes, Eloise, Lucy and I headed for shopping, beach and ice-creams, leaving the men on board grappling with wires in the bilges, armed with a multi-meter, electronics textbook and depth sounder log book.  Angus also dived below the boat to check for weed, but all to no avail.

The upshot of this is we have been sailing (well, motoring) around the Scillies, one of the trickiest and rockiest places in the UK, using a good old fashioned lead-line to "sound" our depth.  Eloise is relishing this purist form of navigation, and can be regularly heard to ask, "Daddy, shall we just go up on deck and check the depth with the lead line?".  It is amazing what little people pick up, and how quickly.

Tonight we are anchored in St Helen's Pool, with just three other boats, and it is a glorious evening.  We spent most of today on the uninhabited island of St Helen's island, home to a ruined hermitage built by St Elidius in the 10th century, and a "pest house" where unfortunate sailors with plague were dropped off en route to England in the 18th century.  For much of the day we were the only people on the island.  When some kayakers arrived, Eloise rushed over and said, "Would you like me to give you a hand pulling it up the beach?", before putting her back into the task.  It was very sweet and funny to watch.

We could not have hoped for better weather to enjoy the views, the birds and the sea life here.  Our next conundrum will be when to make the crossing to Ireland, which we hope to do this weekend, but at 135 miles it will take us over 24 hours, and we can only just carry enough fuel to make it that far.  We feel a little uncomfortable setting off with no wind forecast, just in case of engine failure...  But there is no huge rush.  For now we will just enjoy the friendliness, remoteness, maritime history and stark beauty of this incredible Archipelago.  Tomorrow we are going to Tresco to visit the famous gardens (all twenty acres of them).  And the biggest news of the evening is that the resident engineer managed to locate a dodgy connection in the depth sounder, so it is back in action, and after four days of faultless readings, the lead line can take a rest back in the cupboard.  Until next time...

The glamorous life of "live-aboards"

Today is day five of our trip, and we are rapidly working out the difference between being "weekenders" and "live-aboards".  The existence of a weekender is how many people would imagine the yachting life - after a good day's sailing they moor up in a well-equipped marina, shower and change into something clean, before heading to the bar followed by a good restaurant.  As our trip is for three months, we are classed as live-aboards, and life is entirely different from that described above.

We have not yet been into a marina and probably will not do many on this trip.  Anchoring is often free, compared to £30+ for a marina.  Our first night at anchor in Studland Bay was a great success.  We were hugely relieved to be in the safety of a flat, calm bay, after beating all day into a force five.  Eloise had been sick for much of the day, and we had taken in a lot of sea water up the basin drain, so there was a fair bit of clearing up to do that evening.  Our anchor held beautifully, there was not a breath of wind, and we slept like babies.

Buoyed by the success of our first night at anchor, and faced (due to the tide times) with an arrival in Salcombe around 11pm on day two, we decided to anchor for the night in a little bay at the harbour entrance, and enter the harbour in the safety of daylight the following day.  Starehole Bay looked innocent enough on the chart, and there was no wind and a flat calm sea, so the only obstacle was picking our spot in the dark.  In pitch black, with no moon and no shore lights, we nosed slowly in and dropped the anchor as planned.  We settled back on the chain and the anchor bit well.  The noise of waves washing against the rocks behind us was rather unnerving.  A flash of the search light confirmed that the inky blackness behind us was indeed a sheer rock face.  The GPS put its distance at 180 feet away.  We might have considered moving, but a second boat which entered the bay just before us was by now on its fourth anchoring attempt, and clearly struggling to find any more satisfactory spot.  We decided that as our anchor was holding, we should stay where we were.  We set an anchor alarm and woke up at least hourly anchor checks.  Neither of us slept much, and in the morning we were pretty tired so it was a relief to pick up a visitors mooring in Salcombe for a day ashore.

And on that shore day, there was glamour at times, as we mingled with the Salcombe crowd.  We played on the beach, bought Salcombe ice-creams from the ice-cream parlour, and went for pre-dinner drinks in the yacht club.  But as soon as we climbed back aboard Snow Goose, flanked by "weekenders" on either side, we were reminded of our status.  They sat in their cockpits sipping wine, with apparently no maintenance to do; we rushed around replacing and upgrading bits of kit, and finishing off jobs we should really have done in preparation for the trip.  Their boats were immaculate; we resembled a Chinese laundry, with clothes and towels from day one's "dirty coughs" (Eloise's phrase) hanging everywhere, having finally been scrubbed clean of their peppa pig pasta shapes in a bucket of fresh cold soapy water on the dock.

Oh, the glamour!  We did all manage to have a shower that day, but the harbour authority showers left a bit to be desired, both in number and facilities, and it ended up being a family shower in a single cubicle - no basin, no mirror, no hair dryer, and a flood all over the floor.  But it was certainly memorable.

 

We are now in St Mawes and on track to meet Dad and Lucy in Penzance at the end of the week, and head for the Scillies.  Long may this lovely weather continue and hooray for Andy Murray!!