Lands End here we come!

Lands End here we come!

Current location (for the past week...): Padstow, Cornwall

Places visited since last post:  Howth, Dun Laoghaire, Arklow (all in R.O.I.)

We are definitely starting to think about home now.  If all goes according to plan, we will be back by next weekend.  Eleven days have passed since I wrote from Newry, Northern Ireland, but we have visited remarkably few places in that time, mainly because we have been weather-bound here in sunny Padstow for a full seven days, making it our longest stop anywhere on the whole trip.  Having said that, this is the best place yet that we have sat out the weather.  We are in Padstow Inner Harbour, where a tidal gate is only opened two hours either side of high water.  There is very little rise and fall, no swell, and it is so sheltered in here that there has really been no wind to speak of.  The shower block is a thirty second walk from the boat, Spar is two minutes away, and there are more bakeries, pubs, pasty shops and ice-cream parlours than anyone could possibly need in their lives.  The only downside of life in the inner harbour in Padstow is that it really is like living in a goldfish bowl.  The quay is heaving with tourists every day, from mid-morning until early evening, passing lazy days exploring the town.  Armed with their ice-creams and take-away coffees, they line the quay sides and sit on the benches, staring down at us below, commenting on our boat, and watching us as we go about life on board.  It is particularly fun to see them look on in horror as Eloise scales the ladder and appears over the harbour wall all by herself - she has become a very competent climber during our trip.  

We have had great fun catching up with our friends Boo and Ed, who live in 

Polzeath, and also Jules and Jonny who were on holiday down this way.  Serena came to stay with us last weekend, and as we were unable to offer her any sailing, she decided (with 12 hours notice and a lot of persuasion from Boo) to do her first triathlon.  This was the Padstow triathlon, which was from Harlyn Bay, about three miles from here, and started at the ungodly hour of 8am on a Sunday morning.  Needless to say, with so little notice, we were unable even to get a taxi firm to answer their phone,  so Angus, Eloise and I had to hitch a ride to watch the finish.  After numerous failed attempts (why wouldn't people stop for a small child, a pregnant lady and a very attractive man at 9am on a Sunday?...), a lovely lady delivering gin for her son's company, (Tarquin Gin, southwestern distillery) let us pile in the back amongst the cases of gin, and we made it to the finish just before Boo and Serena did.  

They both did amazingly well!  The rest of our days here have been spent surfing (Angus), bodyboarding Eloise), playing on the beach, cycling the Camel Trail, walking the coastal path from Rock to Polzeath, and browsing the lovely Cornish shops.

But really, that all sounds far too much like good fun, and no sailing involved, so I should probably tell you about some of our adventures before we reached Padstow.  We left the heart of Newry and exited Victoria Lock, as planned, headed south for Howth.  We arrived, as expected, in the dark and just about found our way into the marina there.  Although the marina staff had gone home, they had told us which berth to go for.  Luckily there was no wind at all, and as I lit up the way ahead with the search light, Angus expertly squeezed Snow Goose into the tightest spot she has ever been into.  There was hardly even room for a small fender between us and the boat next door, and there was only a boat length between us and the boats behind us.  Had we seen quite how tight the spot was in the cold light of day, we might have asked to go somewhere else...  Anyway, we were in safely, and we decided not to start worrying about how we would ever get out until nearer the time.

Howth played a role in the start of our courtship, back in the days of training on Victoria Clipper, so Angus and I were excited about returning there.  We had a great shore day, including the same coastal walk that our crewmember David Hayes led us on during some "off-boat" time, and we passed the pub where we all had a mid-walk pint.  Our evening in Howth back in 2005, led by the local Irish skipper Connor Fogherty, was suitably beer-fuelled, and as a result neither of us could quite remember which pub we all went to for late night drinks followed by a lock-in...  However, we think that maybe we had lunch in the very same pub.  Can any clippers fill us in?!

We left our spot in Howth Marina with a force 5 wind blowing right up our stern.  We enlisted the help of the marina launch to ensure no-one's insurance policy was tested by our departure - it would not have been an easy exit for any boat, particularly one which relishes reversing in any chosen direction as little as the good ship Snow Goose.  Safely out of Howth, we started south, bound for Arklow, about 50 miles away.  In the end we only made it about five miles south before the wind started to increase as we crossed Dublin Bay, and we managed to get a "wrap" in our jib whilst furling a bit away.  A "wrap" is basically a bit of a muddle, leaving the sail half in and half out, and unusable.  Luckily, we were able to pull the furling line a bit more to fully wrap the sail so that it wasn't flogging anymore, but given that it was now blowing a force 6 anyway, we headed into Dublin Bay and put in to Dun Laoghaire marina to sort ourselves out.  Once safely alongside, the wrap came out pretty easily with a bit of brute force and pulling...  The wind continued all night, and whistled so loudly through our rigging that we had to put the subtitles on a movie we watched on the DVD player, which was a first!

We had an uneventful passage south to Arklow the following day, where Angus hit the local sailing club with the locals who had just been evening racing, and then appeared back on the boat with a couple from another yacht to drink whiskey.  With them gone just before midnight, we reviewed our onward plans regarding when and how we might cross to England, realised that there was a weather window for the next 36 hours, and decided that we'd better take it.  We left at first light the next morning - just after six - destination Padstow, 140 miles away.  To begin with there was not enough wind, and we had to motor, but by mid-afternoon we were sailing fast on a reach (with the wind at 90 degrees to the direction we were travelling).  As night fell, we reached the northern end of the Bristol Channel, the sea got a lot rougher, and there were anchored ships lit up like Christmas trees.  Once past these, we saw nothing at all.  It was so dark that it was not really possible to see where the sea ended and the sky began.  There was no moon, and no stars.  Fortunately, Susan (our wind vane self steering) was able to steer, as it is very difficult to helm at night with only the wildly swaying compass to look at.  When it is that dark, although logic says that if there was something in the water - like a boat, or a buoy - it would be lit, there is a little bit in one's brain which gives the feeling that you might be just about to plough straight into something just ahead.  Also it was very drizzly, so it was impossible to tell whether our visibility was very good or terrible, so we had to keep a close eye on our other gadgets (AIS) to be sure we were clear of any shipping.  Although it was a very dark and rolly night passage, it was fast and exhilarating, but I think Angus and I were both pretty glad to be arriving in port the following day, not sailing 4,000 miles like Rosie is on her current Clipper leg...

And so that brings things up to date really.  The only other major family news (for anyone interested in our future orthodontic bills...) is that we bought some "Stop 'n' Grow" two days ago from Boots to stop Eloise sucking her fingers, and after one taste of it and a few tears, the fingers have not been in since.  She willingly puts her hands out for applications of her "special nail varnish".  OK, so it has taken her two hours rather than five minutes to get to sleep both nights, but that is bound to get shorter as time goes by...

Our plan for the next week is Newlyn, Helford River, River Yealm, Brixham, Poole, and back to the Hamble.  Give us a shout if you happen to be near any of those places.  Here's to some settled weather for the final push home, and then the transition back to normal life (including showering every day...)

 

Any port in a storm - even a shopping centre!

Current location:  Albert basin, Newry, Northern Ireland (in a canal, outside an enormous shopping centre)

Places visited since last post:  Lamlash harbour, Isle of Arran (Scotland), Glenarm, Bangor, Killough Bay and Ardglass (N Ireland)

Greetings from Northern Ireland, where we find ourselves in a slightly extraordinary, unexpected place.  We are moored up in Albert Basin, two miles inland up a canal, in the heart of a busy Northern Irish city called Newry, directly opposite the entrance to an enormous shopping centre called "the Quays".  We didn't plan to end up here; it just sort of happened.  We left Ardglass, a little harbour up the coast from here at first light yesterday, bound for Howth - a passage south of about 50 miles, which would take us around 10 hours.  There was no wind at all when we set off, and although the forecast from the previous evening warned of strong to gale force winds, they were not expected until the following night, long after we would arrive in Howth.  However, when the coastguard read the morning's forecast over the radio, it seemed that the wind was now expected to come sooner, with a possibility of gale force 8 winds by the afternoon.  Such is the peril of setting off before hearing the morning's forecast...  We were having a lovely fast sail, Snow Goose was in her element, and we probably would have made it to Howth just fine, but the wind was already freshening by the hour, and taking into account the limitations of our crew, we took the safe decision and put into the next sensible port.

This is how we came to enter Carlingford Lough; a vast 10 mile inlet on the east coast of Ireland, which marks the divide between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland.  Carlingford Marina is situated on the south side of the Lough, and the pilot book describes that the shelter as inadequate in a northerly gale (which of course is what was forecast..), with waves reported to breach the breakwaters.  We didn't think that sounded particularly peaceful, so we headed as far inland as possible to Warrenpoint, which is basically a massive shipping port, but the town quay is described as having a few pontoons which can accommodate yachts.  On radioing the harbourmaster to ask for a spot, he informed us that there was no space on the town pontoons.  Everywhere that we have been recently has had masses of space, so we were completely taken by surprise, and were fast running out of options.  He told us we could tie up on the inside of the harbour breakwater, but we didn't really fancy being against a breakwater during a gale, so we tried our third and final option...  Just upriver from Warrenpoint was a lock leading to a canal, which our pilot book said could be opened for visiting yachts by prior arrangement with the local tourist office; 24-48 hours notice was suggested.  I called the tourist office, and although helpful, the lady sounded pretty dubious, but she agreed to give me the lock keeper's mobile number.  Unbelievably, we were in luck!  Two yachts had just gone through, and Noel the lovely lock keeper said he could wait until we got there about an hour later.  Once through the lock, we motored three miles up a flat canal to our destination, where we have had perfect shelter through the gale last night and today.  We heard that a yacht was dismasted out at sea this afternoon; there is barely a breath of wind where we are.  We have had a lot of fun in Newry, including an educational walking tour of the old city and docks yesterday (led by me from a leaflet I picked up in the tourist office), a buffet supper in a chinese restaurant last night, and a bus trip to Slieve Gullion Country Park today, where there was a festival of food and music.  We are booked to go back through the lock tomorrow morning, with a better forecast (so far...), so will try once again to head south to Howth.

We seem to have spent quite a bit of time waiting for gales to pass since the last post.  We spent no fewer that four nights on the scottish island of Arran, waiting for the wind to settle sufficiently that we could make the crossing to the east coast of Ireland.  This was particularly frustrating because there was a high pressure system sitting over the south of the UK, where we knew everyone was basking in glorious sunshine and blue sky, whilst on the Isle of Arran we could not venture out without jumpers, hats and waterproofs.  It was cold and wet, and ironically it didn't even seem to be the right Arran for buying woolly jumpers (a mystery which we have not yet investigated further, but no doubt a quick google search would clear it up for us..).  We were in a harbour called Lamlash, or "La-lash" as Eloise insisted on calling it, safely tied up to a very smart visitors mooring.  The pilot book was not wrong when it described "fierce squalls" coming off the mountains in strong winds, and at times it was so windy on the mooring that it was hard to sleep because of the noise.  At other times, there seemed to be no wind at all, but then our lovely deep slumbers were broken by Snow Goose's hull banging against her mooring buoy...  However, on the plus side, it was a short dinghy trip ashore, and we were able to leave Snow Goose on her mooring all day without worrying about her, which was a great improvement on some of our Irish gales.  We caught the bus to the Auchrannie Spa Hotel, which I cannot recommend highly enough, should you ever find yourself gale-bound on Arran.  Angus and I both treated ourselves to a massage - which, having slept on bunk cushions for the past two months, was much needed, never mind the physical toils of yachting (worse for Angus than me..).  We splashed and swam for hours with Eloise in both the kids' and grown-up pools, as well as using the steam room, sauna etc.  We all had long, hot showers both before and after swimming, just because we could, and for Eloise I am fairly sure it was her first shower in at least two weeks...  After treating ourselves to a really good lunch in the restaurant, we headed for the kids' playbarn, with coffee and Wifi for grown-ups, before catching the bus back to the boat.  It was all we could do to stop ourselves checking in to the hotel for the night!  The following day we circumnavigated the island by bus, stopping at the Arran whisky distillery for a tour, which Angus was delighted with because we failed to get a tour of the Bushmills when we visited.  We could not have dreamt up a better couple of rainy, windy shore days - thank you, Arran for a great stay.

From Arran we crossed to Glenarm in Northern Ireland, where we had a quick midnight until 6am sleep before continuing south with the next fair tide to Bangor, just east of Belfast.  It is not fun arriving in places in the dark, but sometimes it is unavoidable.  We had called ahead to the marina manager in
Glenarm, who confirmed there was space available, and told us where to go when we arrived.  He also warned us about the "poorly lit" (a.k.a completely unlit) fish farm just off the marina entrance.  We had no wind the whole way from Arran, but just as we reached Glenarm it started blowing quite hard, which made mooring in a strange marina in the dark quite tricky.  The main danger, however, of motoring close to shore in darkness is the risk of getting caught on fishing gear, none of which is lit.  We were almost at the marina entrance and I was tying on ropes and fenders, when I spotted a couple of floating footballs in a net (a makeshift buoy) go past our bow.  Luckily Angus heard and reacted instantly to my shout of "Go into neutral!" and we didn't get caught up on the rope.  We avoided the area where the fish farm was indicated on the chart by as far as we could, but were still pretty alarmed the following morning as we left, when we saw the vast expanse of sea that the fartodo vere.  It was seriously huge!  Surely if a small anchored yacht has to show a light all night, then a massive fish farm full of someone's livelihood should too?...

Bangor was really a fantastic stop for us for a number of reasons; the sun shone for the whole two days, there was a washing machine in the marina (our first encounter with laundry for two weeks), we visited the Titanic Experience in Belfast, but mainly because we were shown wonderful hospitality by Irish friends.  Back in July, we had met two couples from Bangor on the Gathering Cruise, who gave us strict instructions to call when we reached their home town.  Both picked us up and had us to dinner at almost no notice.  I can hardly describe how excited we were at the prospect of sitting on comfy sofas, in houses, two nights running, at this stage of our trip .  The last time we went into a friend's house was in Falmouth, almost two months ago.  It made us vow to try offer the same hospitality to others far from home whenever the opportunity arises.  Eloise remembered all our friends from the Cruise, and they were so kind to her, giving her sticker books, pencils, sweeties, and even pocket money!

The Titanic Experience in Belfast had been recommended to us by a number of people and was a great day out.  The museum was incredibly well thought-out, giving a fascinating insight into the factory-dominated, workhouse era of Belfast in the times of linen production and export, before moving on to shipbuilding, the construction and subsequent sinking of Titanic, and the finding of the wreck.  It took a team of five people to hammer in each and every rivet of her hull, with sparks of hot metal flying as they worked, and no thought of any facial, eye or ear protection...  There were reconstructed examples of first, second and third class cabins, and an amazing 3D audiovisual display which showed all the different areas of the ship, from the engine rooms to the wheelhouse.  Then there were the ship to ship morse code messages, which warned Titanic of the many icebergs in the area; warnings which were completely ignored in the false belief that she was unsinkable, invincible... and so on she pushed at full speed in pitch darkness.  The distress messages were played out in a darkened room as an image of Titanic sank beneath the sea on the screen in front of us.  Eloise insisted on watching it over and over again to try and get her head around the story.  Having seen a tall ship sink on the rocks, she is no stranger to the concept of shipwrecks, but she is used to everyone being rescued, so we did our best to gloss over the fact that two thirds of those on board didn't survive..  She was in a bit of a muddle about exactly which ship hit an iceberg, and when we asked her what the name was, she would say "OneDLL".  (This is the name of Rosie's boat in the Clipper Round the World Race, which we all sincerely hope will not be going near any icebergs..)

We plan to be home in less than three weeks, so although our thoughts are beginning to turn to normal life, we are trying to savour every moment of our trip - even the cold, wet, windy ones...  Thanks for reading if you have managed to get this far, keep in touch, and let us know if you are in Cornwall or Devon in the last couple of weeks in September.

Fair winds from all of us on the good ship Snow Goose.

Xxx