Before I go any further – and knowing this will be posted on the 4th – HAPPY 4TH OF JULY TO EVERYONE BACK HOME IN THE USA

So the day finally arrived – not the 4th, but the Saturday we were going to spend in Dublin. A whole day of indulgence, including a much anticipated visit to the Guinness Storehouse (aka Brewery). I had reached out to my friend Column Butler for help in securing the tickets. A lazy morning doing essential household chores, lunch with my nephew Ian and his wonderful wife and their two “wee” girls and then hit the Guinness. 

STOP – all change. The day before (so Friday) a phone call sent us reeling! The incoming training skipper called to strongly suggest we needed to head out of Dublin late on Saturday evening and get over to The Isle of Man, in order to then get over to Bangor (NI) and then to Campbletown and on to Port Ellen on the Isle of Islay – where there were a whole bunch of Whisky Distilleries waiting for us to tour. So compromise of compromise – the tour of the Guinness Haven became a perfunctory (but interesting) visit with just the One pint of Guinness (which we each pulled ourselves and perfectly and have certificates to prove it – although our coach for the activity was a very – very – very pretty blond Irish lass called Sarah – who looked like she could no more down a pint of Guinness than she could have played mid field for Charlton Athletic. I don’t remember what she actually advised for the “pulling of the pint” – but I know she was rather deft at speaking with her eyes! Greater focus needed here from me.

And so we arrived back at the boat on Saturday evening, ate a quick meal and grabbed an hour of sleep before heading out at midnight for Peel, Isle of Man (meaning Isle of Isles from what I can understand). Leaving Howth at midnight felt like we were running out without telling Dad what was happening and where we were going (never actually did that as a youth, he wasn’t terribly interested in my stupidity). The sail over to the IOM was more of a motor than a sail (we did sail for a couple of hours – but the wind was variable and light and a thorough pain in the a***). So after a bit of sail and a blast of motoring, we entered into the harbor at Peel and docked up in the Marina at 11.30 in time to have a feast of a brunch – Bacon, Eggs, Tomatoes and ……….beans, yes beans (on toast no less). Our sail had been uneventful, but it had to be well planned because you can only enter the Marina in Peel (passing through the old harbor) in a window of 2 hours before or after High Tide ( and because of our size, we really only had a 1 HR window either side – to deep a keel). There is a devise at the Marina entrance called a flapper gate and then a small swing bridge – both of which need to be opened. When closed, the flapper maintains a constant height in the Marina and so you don’t end up with a bunch of boats all stuck on the mud. 

I had tried to call the Harbour Master on his Radio an hour before our arrival (as requested in the Port’s entry in the Sailing Almanac) – but there was no answer – nor from the much bigger Port Officer in Douglas (the main city and port on the other side of the Island). The Almanac clearly states – “Contact Peel Harbour Control on Channel 12 – at least 1 hour before your arrival if no response contact DOuglas Harbor Control also on Channel 12”. So that’s what I did and got nothing back for my trouble. So having already established I had a cell phone signal – I called your man in Peel (cell number provided). 

“Hello there, how are you?” he says very jovially. I explained I had just tried to raise him (and Douglas for that) on the radio as requested, as we were about an hour out. “Oh – that won’t work” says he, “I only have a hand held radio – line of sight only and you aren’t line of sight yet are you?”. Well an hour out – no-one is likely to be. So how exactly are people supposed to comply with this – make contact one hour before from a location that is almost certainly “beyond line of site” and therefore not operative with a hand held radio. 

“Just for sniggers and grins, how hoes this one hour thing work if we’re not line of sight” asks I. 

“Best to come into the Harbour where I can see you and then I can open the bridge for you”. 

“So ignore the entry in the Almanac then?”

“Oh no, you shouldn’t do that – you should try to make the call”

“On your cell phone like it says – got it”

“No no – always try the radio first – I always have that with me”

“The one that’s line of sight and not likely to pick me up an hour before”

“That’s the one”

“Got it”

I am unlikely to ever visit Peel again as a sailor – nothing personal you understand. In fairness, the Harbour Master was there to meet us in person as we came by the Swing Bridge and he sprinted to meet us and we finished docking. When we told him we were only going to stay for about 10 hours – he didn’t ask for any money and he still gave us the magic code we needed so we could use the much needed “facilities”! You can’t ask for more than that (well at least not from an hour away – unless you’re line of sight).

A quick word about the Isle of Man. It seemed a lovely place to visit – rugged scenery and a great coastline. The people all seemed very friendly and there was a genuine sense of welcome. I just wouldn’t go there to do a VHF radio course.

The highlight of my visit to Peel was getting a visit with a couple who I hadn’t seen for almost 40 years. Both had been very close friends when Iwe were all in Sixth Form (so Juniors and Seniors in High School), but funnily enough, they weren’t in the same group of friends as each other – they knew each other, but they moved in different circles and I moved in both of the circles they moved in (neither were the cool kids, except to us). Jacquie and I had Christine Thomas and another Jackie (Pierce) and Jane Sellars (sadly now dead) and Gillian Miller and Fintan Donnelly and Simon Tennant (about name drop – Neil Tennant’s brother – come on – Pet Shop Boys fame). Anthony was with Joe Rawcliffe, David Smyth, John Ross, Paddy Duffy and some twins (two to be precise), very pretty girls, can’t remember their names though. So after we had all broken up and headed away from home to college – Anthony and Jacquie “got it together”. They subsequently married and some years later moved to the IOM and subsequently raised a lovely family there. What a joy it was to catch up and exchange notes of the critical things that had happened over the years. I reached out from Dublin through the magic of Face Book Messenger and we were able to figure out how to connect and have a coffee together should I safely arrive in Peel the next day. And I did and so we did! Coincidently, they had just moved across from the other side of the IOM to Peel. What a joy it was to see them and reconnect and we have committed to seeing each other again sometime in the future and probably not leave it the 40 years. Many thanks Anthony and Jacqueline Robinson, so nice to see you again and to hear about your life and family. Anthony re-trained quite some years a ago and moved from working in big Pharma and went in to teaching. He is now a Head teacher in a Primary School and he still plays his guitar like he did years back. What a great story.

(PS. I once asked Jacqueline out on a date when we were about 17 and she said no, so it might have been a little embarrassing seeing her again, don’t you think? But – after 40 years – there clearly were no hard feelings and I think she was able to confirm she’d made the right decision back then! Seems we both eventually won – even if my heart ached for at least a week after she said no.) 

We’re now actually sailing at sea as I write and  we’re heading to Bangor in Northern Ireland. It’s a stopping off place for us en route the Scottish Islands. The weather is – raining (what – in the Irish Sea, never). The winds are lowish (F3 – 4), may be picking up a little latter and as the Met office like to predict – with visibility good, possibly moderate to occasionally poor at times. How to put yourself out there with a clear opinion! Enjoy this photo of Peel taken this morning when we awoke.

More from Bangor and then the Islands.

Pip pip,

N

So as you know – if you read the previous post – we got over from Milford Haven to Dublin and all was well with the world. In fact – it was an exhilarating sail with speeds over over 11 knots at times (current right behind us). We had pretty good winds and weather all the way over and got here just after sunrise. It was “grand”. Just after 10.30pm past night, Paul and I (my watch help) spotted the outline of the Irish Coast and it stayed with us all night. Of course, when we got here the Marina office wasn’t open (it was advertised to be open and nor was there any answer from the Harbor master on channel 12). But, we tied up on the end of a pontoon inside the Marina, made breakfast and then visited the office later to check in. I had a lovely conversaiton with a French guy in a small vintage boat next to us. On a sample of one, he didn’t care whether the UK was in or out of Europe, but he did care that France thought about its own future carefully (I see more separatism on the horizon).

Snooty Sailing Clubs would ask you yo move from where you sneakily tied up for convenience (on a pontoon end) and they would move you to the back waters, but not this one. This is one of the largest and certainly most competitive sailing clubs in Ireland – and they are massively accommodating. Ah well – why not be accommodating (listen up Jobsworth of Exeter).
A couple of lunch times Guinness’s at the Abbey Tavern (and full marks Gerry Lynch for knowing where we were from just the photo of the glass of Guinness) and a little lunch on the boat and once again all was well with the world.
En route back from bar to the Marina – I visited a very nice, up market – food and Sea food market! Beshoff’s serves Oysters, fine wine and a whole variety of very nice cheeses, fish, bread and the like. Says I, to the pretty, very young, demure red head busily making coffee to order (not your average STARBUCKS here – although that is further along the road and owned by my good friends, the Butler Brothers)- says I “Do you know where I can buy eggs please”? Slightly tilting her eyes down like a shy girl, she says “They’re right over there by the X and the X”. With a little more guidance (for stupid here) I found them. Once again I had to go back to the knowledge well and ask her “I don’t suppose you have bread too, do you”. This time with a sideways flick of the eyes she directed me 1 pace to the right to a very obvious bread display and then with a flick of the eyes up she clearly said “are you a Feckin eegit or wha”. She was, of course right, I am an idiot for not being able to spot this. Of course she went on to talk me through the entire display and made sure I knew who the baker was and what the origin of each loaf on display were. Where else?
There is a real feeling of home to me, whenever I visit Ireland. Not because it’s my home, because it clearly isn’t. BUT – whether it’s through the influence on my own family (some from my grandparents generation and some through my sister and brother-in-law, Gill and Gerry Lynch, 4 kids, all born in Ireland, all with Irish Passports, all with Irishish names and all with a geart heritage) – or whether it’s through Bernadette’s family (Bernadette Kathleen Riley might be a bit of a giveaway), Being in Ireland always feels like coming back to home. There is something completely unique about Irish hospitality and it fits well within our family. Without causing offense or upset, they manage to take the piss and do so respectfully. At its heart, the Irish don’t take themselves too seriously and they certainly don’t take others too seriously, and at the same time they are respectful of the right things, which have changed significantly over the last 20 years. It;s not a perfect society, just better than most. The recent vote for the legalization of some sex marriages underscored the sensitivity and sensibility of modern Irish life, while still blending sufficient heritage to make it count. I would absolutely be at home here. 
Tomorrow I get to meet 2 of my Great Nieces (my nephew Ian’s “wee” girls). I couldn’t be more excited. One of life’s true delights- seeing the next generation grow and take control of life and create yet the next generation!

Then tomorrow night we’re off to the Isle of Man (see map later on) – a place I have never been and most famous for its Motorcycle racing . It wasn’t our original plan to leave tomorrow night – but with a change in training skipper, he thinks we need to do it if we’re to leave sufficient time to visit a distillery further up the coast. You can’ argue with that logic, can you.

So, it not only can, but it did come together last night. We used wind and wind alone to get from South Wales over the Irish Sea to Dublin, sailing right up to the harbour entrance here in Howth. I think that is awesome. Not a drop of fossil fuel was used and the wind and the tide carried us here. When it comes together it really is “grand”!
Pip pip,
N

Feckin awesome!

As I eluded to in my last post – the passage up here to Milford Haven was a little rough. Well, in fact it was a lot rough! I’m not sure is I should share this – but I will. I cleared 17 buckets of water out of the main mid-ship bilge when we got here! AND – it was still draining in – so more to come. Apparently after we finish this little jaunt around the Island the boat is going in to be overhauled – that’s of great comfort to us – the next trip will be safer! I think we may have a leak somewhere (and we need a leek to make lunch – so, in the words of the song – What a difference an “a” makes! Sorry about that – a bit of cabin fever may be.
So then – the wind behaved as predicted and while they were strong (Force 7 gusting 8 – which is quoted at “Some twigs broken from trees. Cars veer on road. Progress on foot is seriously impeded” On foot – try at sea mate!). The issue was the state of the seas. They were forecast to be moderate occasionally rough. So what does that mean? Moderate is about 4 to 8ft waves (measured from the mean height of …….you don’t need the rest of the definition – if you do Google it!)) and rough means 8 to 13ft waves. Well bugger that – the waves were rough from the start – and on top of that we had significant swell. Added together – things were nasty from the start and while the sea occasionally got better – we had way too much weather about us to have the little experienced crew take time on the helm – so that meant 3 of us doing an hour on and two hours off throughout the 18 hours of the passage. As I was skippering – I didn’t get a lot of sleep when I was off the helm – just making sure all was well and keeping an eye on our course. I’m pleased to report that we arrived where we wanted to – pretty much at the time we predicted and all was well with the boat and the crew – and then –

Arriving safely at the entrance to the port should have been massively uplifting (and it was to a degree) – but shortly before then, the heavens opened and the seas rose up and the visibility went to “not a bloody hand in front of you” (technical terms) and the temperature dropped significantly. So this was the weather we had to work with to take in the sail, enter the port and motor up the channel to the entrance to the lock that would lead us into the Marina. Well – it is what it is and we just had to grin through it!

First time for all of us in Milford Haven the port. I once visited here when I worked for Kingfisher – to visit a Comet store. I think I came in under the cover of darkness and left as soon as possible. Darkness was around midday! I’d prepared a pilotage plan and luckily had it in my mind and not just on the paper- as the rain’s arrival completely soaked the piece of folded paper with the plan on it (yes – numpty – should have had it in a plastic folder!). We navigated our way through the buoys and cardinals, preferred channel markers and “death to the English” signs and eventually got through to the lock where we had to circle and wait for about 20 minutes until the lock keeper could see we were well and truly soaked – before he opened it up and let us in.

The rain poured until mid afternoon – through our breakfast and sleeping time and then as we started to awaken and stroll up to the shower block for ablutions – the sun came out and dried up all the rain! The wind blew and we were able to dry most of our stuff and through the magic of hatches – the inside of the boat. Milford Haven went from an industrial wasteland of oil and gas installations to a really nice and quite green place – looking across the water to the Pembrokeshire countryside surrounding this natural inlet (which doesn’t seem to have any rivers running through). That said – we stuck our noses into the town itself after dinner last night and frankly, my first impressions seemed to be more supported than refuted!

So now, 24 hours after having arrived, we’re sitting mostly dried out and having had a splendid night last night. We eventually ate the chicken stew I’d made for the journey (it had the better part of a bottle of red wine poured into it that I didn’t think was going to travel too well). Surprisingly, no-one felt like eating the stew while on passage (may be it was the prospect of immediately returning the stew to its previous admirers – good decision). We drank some decent red with dinner and then retired to a local bar for a couple of snifters. While we all caught a few hours sleep after breakfast yesterday – we all still managed to sleep about another 9 or so hours last night. We’ll need it – as we have another night passage tonight over to Dublin!

I think I can say that the passage up here from the Scillies was outside of my “comfort zone” and that is a topic that I pondered on for much of my time at the helm coming over here – and so I’ll share those exciting thoughts with you a little later on! SO – was it sensible to make the trip through that weather – I guess the answer is yes. I learned a ton and came to appreciate Milford Haven more than I normally might have. So that’s a win, yes?

More from the wonderful city of Dublin tomorrow. Photos to follow.

Pip pip,

N

I am posting this now after the event – even though we are now safely here in Milford Haven in Wales (and don’t mistake Haven for any derivative of Heaven – it’s from Harbour and frankly – a visit here and you would either immediately recognize the correct connection or you would doubt the need to lead a pure and devote life in order to get where to some “Haven” like this one!). The faces on the few boats at anchor with us in Tresco were clearly looking at us and thinking “wow – you guys are adventurous ” –  as they watched us prepare to leave the beautiful anchorage. The wind was driving hard and even though the sun had recently started to shine – the breakers at the confluence of the sea and channel were spectacularly white and bubbling and very very high and clearly saying to us “keep away”! 

Said differently and shorter, what the folks in the anchorage were really thinking was “idiots-  what the f*** are you doing” and you know what – that’s exactly what my inner voice was saying too! Now – back to before please read on – no – please!

So we’re all (that’s 5 of us – 2 new crew members joined the boat in Penzance) sitting in the Salon onboard Tonic listening to the wind drive through the channal we’re anchored in at, blowing at about 30 Knots (about 35 MPH). It’s quite cozy sitting here in anticipation of a departure around 14.00hrs – 2 hours time. Our passage today is around 120Nm NNE of here with winds coming from the West (and may be Southwest for a time). In sailing terms it means we should be on a reach, between beam and broad and therefore make a quick passage. We’ll have the 3rd reef in to get going (I really don’t want to be over sailed on this passage – with gusts of up to 45 Knotts plus possible- yes that’s PLUS – over 50 mile an hour winds and we just listened to the weather forecast tell us that “Gale Warnings for Sea areas Lundy and Fastnet – and we’re in Lundy with Fastnet off to our immediate left – west of us – a real Gale Warning for our sea area!)). The more worrying thing is that the seas are coming from the same angle is the wind and so we will likely be taking much of the sea on our aft port quarter (back left hand side). I’m skippering this passage and it’s the longest one I’ve done on my own – in weather conditions like this. Happy to be doing it, but just like leavying Salcombe last week (fog) – I might be tempted to sit the gale out – but time is not on our side and we want to get to Dublin by Friday night (the worst thing to do when sailing – is to plan a passage on the basis of a time deadline!). 

Yesterday we spent the day very nicely exploring the Islands of Bryant and Tresco. We drank a pint in the most westerly bar in the UK (Fraggle’s Rock and the most westerly Hotel. We then had dinner in another pub on Tresco (The New Hotel) where we returned this morning for a cup of coffee and a bacon Sandwich. All was well with the world yesterday – the sun shone, the beer flowed and the dingy rides to and fro were fine. This morning we got a proper soaking in the dingy and I stayed in with Tom our Training Skipper to take off the line second line that was holding us to the mooring ball – the safety one. The wind, rain and sea meant I got a really, really proper soaking!

I’ll let you know how this passage goes when we get to the other end – but on the basis that there is no connection to the Internet or anything else where I am right now – you will possibly get this at the same time anyway!

Pip pip,

N

Our anchorage as the sun went down on Monday evening – from my iPhone while in the dingy after a few “beers”!

Currently on a train from Exeter to Newquay (on the North Cornish Coast) where I will spend the night ahead of catching an early morning puddle jumper to the Isles Of Scilly (about 25 miles off shore) where I will rendezvous with Tonic and here Crew (2 new members joined in Penzance and 1 left). We need at least the 5 of us to accommodate the 2 long passages we will do in the next 5 days. The first will take us from the Isles of Scilly up to Milford Haven and the second from Milford Haven to Dublin. We’re all excited about arriving in Dublin because we’ll go and visit the Guinness Brewery (been to Dublin loads of times and not done it). We’ll also change training skippers in Dublin (and crew members). We’ve been doing what is called “technical” sailing over the last week _ shortish passages with focus on the real specifics of the quality of our sale plan and boat handling. Very interesting and really well coached by Tom our Training Skipper. 
The wedding up io the North East was excellent – a real family and very Geordie affair. For those who don’t know, it was our niece getting married (Bernadette’s brother’s daughter) and tragically, her mother died just a few months back (Brain Cancer) at a very young age (60). This could have turned into a very sad event, but it wasn’t. It was full of joy and happiness and it was a great celebration. John, Bernadette’s brother and father of the bride did a great job of keeping it together and appropriately Brough Moira’s memory up in his speech. John, the bridegroom, also did a stellar job in his speech and apart from having everyone in tears of joy, he also brought some appropriate tears in celebrating his now departed mother-in-law. A wonderful time was had by all. The wedding was in rural Northumberland, a much forgotten beauty in the very North of England. It is such a pretty county and the wedding venue was a wonderful country house focused specifically for weddings. Look it up – it’s Woodhill Hall in Otterbrun (http://www.woodhillhall.co.uk/) – it’s very cool and in a beautiful setting.

Now I’m en route back (a little reticence this morning about leaving, but I’m excited to get back on the damp, smelly boat and get on with some real sailing.

The photo below is of the Bride’s dress with the natural confetti clinging to it!

More to come from me once I get back out to the boat

Pip pip

Let me resume where I left off. After a leisurely Tuesday morning tied up on a pontoon mid channel in Dartmouth, we sailed out and headed down the coast Devenish Coast to Salcombe. We sailed in fine, sunny weather and arrived to find that most of the mooring balls were already taken and we ended up a little way off the town quay (near The Bag for those who care to look at a map). The sail up the channel past the town was “quite lovely”. 
Believe it or not – Salcombe in Devon is the “in-place” for UK celebrities to own a summer house or to retire too. From Michael Parkinson (famous chat show host) – to members of Led Zep – to Mary Berry (she’s a cook and writer of cook books) – the place is now overrun with the in crowd (actually the ones I’ve just mentioned are the “on their way out crowd”. It didn’t seem that way when we were there. The place seemed to have a slightly “colorful grubbiness – use to be nice kind if look. Said simply – dirty! Apparently, and this is according to Wikipedia, the source of all knowledge – the population grows from just over 1000 in the winter to 25,000 in the summer. Where do they all stay? Who knows! Frankly, who cares for reasons that will become more apparent. We got out our tender/raft and inflated it, attached the brand new but rather too small Honda outboard on it and spent 30 minutes playing with it to get it to work (as men of the sea tend to do). It had been slightly over filled with engine oil (like x3) and smoked massively as it ran – making us like like a clown car arriving in the circus ring. We headed into the townie bit to find a decent pint. The pub sitting right on the main dock, which from afloat looked lovely – wasn’t! It was dirty and smelly and the tables outside were populated with mainly younger folks smoking profusely! Their conversations had a liberal smattering of “well Johnny” and “then James” and the girls all seemed to have their war paint on by 5.30 in the afternoon and something of a rather smoked yellow tan with long straightened hair falling demurely (or annoyingly depending on your POV) in front of their sun glasses, attentively listening to whichever antics Johnny and James had gotten up to while racing some boat or other earlier in the day. I surmised that they were dingy racing by the brightly colored flotation jackets they were all still sporting (type 3’s I believe). Or, may be they were just obnoxiously colored flack jackets and they were your undercover/out of cover Government sorts. I have to confess, and I possibly had no real right to, I felt somewhat nauseous, by the sounds and sights around me! These were the stereotypical yahoos one might expect when in a place invaded by the privileged (and featured in many BBC comedy progs). 

Now I have been to Martha’s Vineyard in the US (a decent approximation for Salcombe may be) and that too has a similar issue, but I didn’t hear or see the showboating that was going on in Salcombe. What struck me most of ALL – was the level of smoking. Of course you already know of my annoyance with this outside pubs, so I won’t go on about it again – much, but why we’re all of these youngish 20 and 30 somethings smoking? Anyway, not my issue really (other than they were doing it in a beer garden and spoiling our time watching the antics on the water in front of us) – smelling, dirtying – and on and on…… “Move on Nick”.

Suffice it to say we moved on, found a much nicer place to drink and returned to our boat ready to cook and east and enjoy a night of further banter and argument.

My reflections on Salcombe – it could be much nicer – it could be cleaner – it could be more authentic, it could be brighter – so effort needed by everyone especially you – you big, fat, grubby looking, but ever so polite landlord of the King’s Arms right on the main landing – you need to clean your act up more than anyone and stop abusing guests with your dirty, smelly pub, littered beer garden and inflated prices for not very well kept beer! May be Parkinson likes things this way? Who knows?

And so on we went from Salcombe to Fowey the next morning, but not a journey for the faint of heart (and I’m not referring to the dirty Kings Arms again). You see, and we couldn’t, that we left Salcombe in very, very thick fog. I hadn’t skippered in fog like this before and I would have happily stayed tucked up in bed reading and drinking hot Green Tea left to my own devices, but Tom the training skipper was having nothing of it! So we put up our radar reflector (not sure why one would ever take one down), switched on our Radar, placed a man on the bow (actually Trevor wearing a lime green hat that could surely be seen from miles, even through thick fog) and out we ventured. Within a mile we were head on with a tug towing something and signaling to us that she was out there. We had already seen her on the radar and also on AIS – a tracking system on the Chart Plotter that provides information about the vessel and it’s heading and speed. The tug boat behaved Impeccably and we both turned to starboard to avoid collision. We sounded our fog horn (a spray can with a plastic horn on the top – hello there – Elite Sailing – get something a bit more substantial – lives at risk here)) and everything went swimmingly! To cut a long story short – we emerged from the fog after about an hour and had a wonderful sail down to Fowey arriving under thick clouds, but nothing that could take away the splendor of this gritty, pretty, old working port. We also passed by the infamous Edlestone Lighthouse off on our Port side – visible but not close enough to touch – but we passed it. Fowey is pronounced Foy if you don’t know, and well, why should you. After topping up our water tank at the town quay, we were looking to head over to the other side of the river and nab the last of the Mooring Balls and settle in for the night – but we chanced our hand and hailed the Harbour Master on the radio and asked about staying on said Town Quay – “of course you can” said he, to our surprise – and so we did! Tied up, shut everything down, had a cup of tea and did some prep for the evening meal and then headed off to see the wonders of Fowey. It has a great Victorian influence, but much much more. It really is a very pretty place that still bustles around the river and the trades that come from it – and not just tourism. It also employers a town cleaner – unlike Salcombe.

As we set out the clouds parted and the sun came out and that required a team pint on the river, in town. While the others figured out the best beer – I headed off to find wine to accompany the Ragu Foweynaise that was partially cooked and waiting for us back on the boat. I chanced upon a small newsagent come general store and blundered upon both a fantastic (but small) wine selection (and very reasonably priced) and also just the right glue to fix my sailing shoes (didn’t work in the end – so Timpson’s in Exeter glued the toes back together and refused any payment – quality). Staffed by the owner (originally from the Chester, but a 16 year veteran of Fowey by way of London) – he was a man who insisted on providing for the simple pleasures and that included personally investing much time in selecting the wines, tying very nicely printed labels to them and then offering them in very trend clear plastic bags without the charge. Glorious!

After dinner we sat and chatted to the guy in the boat next to us. He was a 60 something, single handed sailor – he had two hands but traveled alone – really? “Been sailing for 12 years and gettin the “ang of it” he told us. He kept his boat up on the Bay of Cardiff and he had sailed it down the North Cornish Coast around the Lizzard and up to Fowey and would start heading home if he could only fix his engine. “The wife thinks I’m a bit of a nutter”! He might be, but I admired him and wished I had the same balls he had! However- loneliness creates a sort of nutter mentality and he exemplified it superbly!

So – topish marks for Foyer – where we spent a slow next morning and then headed out for a blow down to the Helford River!

We made great time down the shortish trip across to Helford with Force 3 to 4, occasionally 5 winds giving us over 8 knots against a back drop of a stunning coastline and with calm seas to sail over – life really doesn’t get much better then that! Entering the Helford is like slipping into Narnia – a world of unreal rural beauty. The place is stunning and inviting, a really quite magical place.

As we looked to find our resting place for the evening – a French Boat cut right across us and did a veritable hand break turn to take an open Mooring Ball – thought to be the last one. How rude (may be they had advanced warning of the exit vote and we’re having one last go at us Brits). No matter, we spotted a marked ball – suggesting it belonged to a private individual and wasn’t a visitor’s ball. Over the radio the Harbor master thought it might be up for grabs for the night – but we would have to wait for the Buoy Allocation Master to arrive and give his blessing (that was his title – I kid you not). Bugger that – we moored up and figured they could move us if they wanted to, but they would have to find us first and there was no way we were going to spend the night on the Helford cooked up onboard! Again – a cup of tea and we headed ashore to the delights of the Shipwrights’ Pub, for drinks and dinner and a view to die for – photo below – but it really doesn’t do it justice!

I was woken through the night by the steady dripping of rain coming through the numerous open hatches (left open because this boat needs airing constantly and there wasn’t a drop of rain in the forecast). Well it rained! The crew had agreed to rise and be ready to push out by 8.30 so that I could motor us the 7 Nm’s over to Falmouth to catch my trains towards Exeter and on to the North East and our niece’s wedding. When we arose – it was pouring outside – but it was really wet inside – not as a consequence of the open hatches (which I had closed shortly after the rain started), but to the devastating news that the vote was for coming out of Europe and you’ve had my views already on that. The rain stopped as we Said goodbye to Helford and the sky showed blue. The consolation of leaving was the journey that would take me the wedding and to be reunited with Bernadette. 
I think I am at last settling down to life on the boat and to the rhythm of sailing like this. I don’t think I’ve quite reached the “constant enjoyment” phase yet! The learning is great and the environment seems to be improved. Certainly the beard is longer! I also believe I’m starting to think better and deeper about the future – well at least I’m trying to figure out the right questions! Nothing deep is stirring yet – but let’s give it time!

So here I am in Exeter Station supping a cup of Green Tea and waiting to go and get my hair cut (who would have thought that Exeter would have a Toni and Guy – but not 3G phone connection – just GPRS – I bet that changes once we’re out of Europe – not). One last thing – I bought my train ticket on-line from Trainline – an App and service I love. There wasn’t a Ticket Machine at Flamouth Docks station to collect the pre-paid ticket – but the friendly conductor on the first train told me it was fine – I had a ticket based on my on-line booking confirmation – so did the next 2 conductors. HOWEVER – Jobsworth of Exeter who stood boldly at the ticket barrier – he was having none of it. “You have traveled without a valid ticket and that’s a problem”.

“Have I appropriately bought a ticket and given Great Western the money – via Trainline – for a ticket”

“Yes sir you have”

“Am I presenting you with physical evidence of that purchase on my phone and with the credit card I used to purchase the ticket”

“Yes Sir you are”

“OK – so what have I failed to do that I should have?”

“You needed to get a valid printed ticket before starting your Journey”

“Is there a ticket office or a ticket machine at Falmouth Docks Station – or Falmouth town for that matter?”

“No sir, there isn’t”

“Where would I get that printed ticket from then?”

“From a station along the way sir”

“Every train was late and I just – and I mean just caught each connection – so how would that have worked then”

“With some degree of difficulty sir”

“So what do you suggest then?”

“I will let you through this automated barrier and you can go to that machine there and get your ticket – and then bring it back to me so I can validate it”

“You do realize this is the termination of my journey – don’t you”

“I do sir, but you need to go and print it out or face a fine for traveling without a valid ticket”

“Seriously dude – you want me to do this”

“I most certainly do sir”

So I did it and I took the ticket back to him and insisted he keep said ticket and suggested he should keep it somewhere dark and just behind him (he looked puzzled at that. – so may be not as funny as I thought it was).

Of course – rarely to these funny things work out and they usually come back to bite us and this one sort of did. By this time, traveling on over-crowded trains that either didn’t have toilets or they were in constant use (trains in Cornwall and Devon are very busy and toilet use seems to be a part of everyone’s journey) I was in reasonably urgent need of a toilet. In fact – sitting was going to be uncomfortable and lunch was beckoning me. Where was the toilet – it seemed the only one was back through the barrier and on the platform.

I asked Jobsworth’s younger and seemingly more lenient colleague if there was another toilet and he said no and opened the barrier, insisting I go through and use the one on the platform. Junior Jobsworth then disappeared so by the time I came back, Senior Jobsworth was back in place. I told him where I’d been.

“You might be needing that ticket after all sir to get back through”

I suggested he let me though anyway – I hadn’t travelled anywhere and then I was irritatingly  clear that I wasn’t going to touch anything that had been where that ticket had been since I gave it to him – nothing with bodily fluids.

“Well that’s for you to decide sir”. I know which way he voted yesterday.

Pip pip!

N

I’ve not had any connection to the Internet for the last 48 hours  hence no updates – but this morning I got connected and found out the result of the EU referendum. I genuinely think this is a very, very sad day for the UK. We made numerous mistakes in trying to renegotiate – like not just telling the rest of Europe “this is the way it needs to work” and then just doing that – and only that. What were they going to do – kick us out? I don’t think so. But – in a connected and integrated world, where a minority of the worlds population want to be separate and choose to simply press their cause through whatever unsavory tactics they want, at odds with the civilized world – WE are now about to be separate. In a world where business is global and competition is fierce – we HOPE we can now get better trading terms with other nations because we are seperate, we have no rules, we belong to nothing and can chose to do business with anyone and they with us because THEY need US ? I don’t buy it. Worse still, we’ve just handed a mandate for further separation to the other countries that make up United Kingdom to further fragment and destroy what we collectively and individually have. 

Coming originally from way up in Northern England, from just South of the Scottish Border, I both understand the frustrations of the Scottish and also their dalliance with wanting to make totally independent decisions – BUT – I think the United Kingdom is so much stronger as one nation taking care of business together, than as independent smaller nations. Now, appropriately, the Scottish will feel their only option to remain close to Europe is to separate from the Union and become totally independent. I like my old neighbors and wish this wasn’t going to be the case – but it is. 

After the all of this – I can look forward to living most of the year in a place (the US) that could have an Idiot Savant as President. And here in the UK – we may end up with Boris as our leader. Dear God – what is going on – when did the world think the Muppets was real and capable of running countries. Muppetry! 

I had to put up With Nigel Bloke on the Radio this morning going on about a victory for the common man – a vote to start a new era for the UK. Numpty – aspiring numpty even. 

I am depressed now and will seek solace in a weekend off the boat to go up to Newcastle to celebrate the wedding of my wonderful and beautiful niece, Claire Riley. Being with family is the only “Tonic” for my state of mind (and yes, there is a pun intended there)! Involving a boat ride, 4 trains, a plane and a car ride – starting in the Helford River at 8.00am and going via Falmouth, Truro, Plymouth, Newton Abbot, Exeter, Newcastle and eventually up to Otterburn tonight at about 10.00pm. I willingly do this journey  because I seriously value the outcome . I wonder in the new disorder we’re creating, whether Boris and Grove and all the other politically motivated idiots who persuaded a scared and emotional UK to ditch Europe for the promise of great things to come, I wonder if they can deliver even 10% of what they promised and preserve all that we value? 
Not on your nelly. Britain – you just got duped.

N

Brilliant drawing don’t you think!!!!

It finally arrived – not the day of the sail, but the sun in the sky and off we headed out for a nice afternoon sail down the Devon Coastline to Dartmouth. The journey was uneventful and the sailing was great (recorded on 14 miles on a 10 mile direct course – tacking and messing about accounts for the other 4). The wind got up a little and we were able to get some nice time on the water and after a short couple of hours we entered the Dart estuary once agin at “beer o’clock” as Tom the training skipper likes to say. We motored up a little way into the heart of Dartmouth, tying up in the town Quay. Sailing takes on a whole new meaning when the suns shines and the wind freshens and you can sit and think while watching glorious scenery on the shore just a little way off in the distance. On Sunday, we didn’t see a thing for the entire 6 hours – just rain and fog. On the other side of that weather lay wonderful places like Chesil Beach (as featured in Ian McEwan’s wonderful book – highly recommended if you like writers who’s descriptive ability is acute) and we saw nowt!
We dined last night on Cornish Pasties (from a hackers in Brixham) with left over homemade ratatouille and baked beans – not the most glamorous of meals, but it hit the spot. It was nice to be dry and able to sit outside after dinner and call the kids in the US and catch up. They both seem in rude health and enjoying life – Alice as a newly wed with a new job and James working on a friends farm (one that is being adapted to grow things????) and also exploring investment opportunities for us in the legal marijuana space.

I would have liked a little more time to explore Dartmouth and especially the Royal Naval Academy which sits majestically up on a hill overlooking the town. There are 4 ferries working this port – because it’s a long way up river until you get to the first crossing, so there are an assortment of passenger and car ferries operating from one side to the other. In fact, one operates from right next to where we’re tied up and it started rather early this morning! There is something quite romantic about a place that exists around ferry crossings (and these are small craft, not bloody big RORO ferries).

It’s only 3 more nights until I leave the boat to head up to Newcastle for a family wedding – 3 nights on dry land – 2 with Bernadette and then a hotel overnight on Sunday waiting to catch a puddle jumper over to the Scily Isles (yes my American friends, there are really islands off the coast called the Isles of Scily – there was a reason you left and headed West all those years ago!).

Pip pip!

N

PS – in the photo below – that boat is what powers and guides the ferry – it’s not an accident waiting to happen. A very skilled captain required – I don’t think any of us will be signing up for that one anytime soon!