Falmouth – HandsOnDeck

Destination Spain

A couple of days before the planned departure date, we anchored in our special, secluded spot up the Helford River, sharing it on the first night with about four other boats, all of whom left on Sunday morning, leaving us to enjoy the peaceful tranquillity of the surrounding countryside.

We finished jobs, prepared meals for the passage, made a new protective cover for the outboard and re-installed Jacklines (safety lines which run the length of the boat which we tether to when leaving the safety of the cockpit), re-instated Hilda, the hydrovane and checked the weather. We decided to take a quick trip to Helford to top up on perishables and while there stopped to have a quick, last English pint in the beautiful thatched Shipwright Inn with its waterfront views and convenient pontoon where we left the dinghy.

Jason had sailed out to see us with a couple of friends and as we were returning to the boat we said goodbye as they slowly made their way back down the river, weaving through the moored boats on their way to St Mawes.

Before we left there was the small matter of Steve’s phone to deal with! After a frantic search, retracing of steps and general mild panic we came to the conclusion it must have fallen out his back pocket while sitting in the dinghy and was probably now at the bottom of the river somewhere between the pub and our boat! As this was our only phone with a UK SIM card and therefore the only means of us having internet, it was an essential tool for, not only communication, but in order for us to get vital information for our imminent passage as well as once we were in Europe. With no alternative, we rose early on Monday morning (the morning of our planned departure) and headed back into Falmouth for one last time.

We anchored close to the town centre and were the first customers in the Vodafone store, where we were helped by a lovely team who assured us a replacement SIM could take 24hrs to be activated but was more likely to be 10 minutes. Thank goodness it took just 10 minutes and also that we’d brought an old replacement phone from NZ, just in case it was needed! Now we could finish all the preparations required to leave later that day.

We had ordered a SIM card for our satellite phone and this had taken longer to arrive than anticipated – in hindsight a mistake, we should have done this much earlier. We had spent time investigating different options as the cost of using a satellite phone is very high, but it is an important safety tool and means of getting regularly up to date weather information. While I did some washing, made sure everything was stowed correctly, baked cakes and made up a bed for us to sleep in on passage, Steve frantically tried to get the satellite phone working. It’s not a simple case of slotting a SIM card in and making a call – at least not with our Iridium fixed phone (which came with the boat). It needs to be connected to a router, aerial and computer and they all need to talk to each other first which meant downloading and installing software before going through the set-up requirements! Fortunately we have another means of getting updated weather through our SSB (Single Band radio – like a Ham radio), which is a beast of a contraption located on top of the wardrobe in our berth!

With washing almost dry, a quick catch-up and farewell from Jonathan, (a friend of Bea and Andy’s) who was passing in his fast RIB, we lifted the anchor, topped up our large tank with water and at 1830hrs headed out of Falmouth for the final time. Bright evening sunshine, clear skies and a lovely breeze gave us the perfect full stop to our long UK chapter. Our family, friends and 15 months of precious memories were very much in our thoughts as Cerulean, weighed down with water, fuel and provisions, cut through the calm waters at 6 knots under three sails and wind coming from the west.

The Bay of Biscay has a well-earned reputation of being a stretch of water to fear and be well prepared for changing conditions. Forecasting accurate weather for a 4-5 day trip is not possible, even with today’s incredible technology, so there was a feeling of jumping off the abyss as we made progress towards France. We had chosen a weather window that offered light winds, not always in the preferred direction but a promise of calm seas for the first three days, at least, which we felt was more important for our first major voyage across unknown waters. The wind models we studied gave different predictions but a couple agreed on a band of northerly winds developing inside the Bay close to the French coast. This made us change from our original plan of sailing south west past the Isles of Scilly and turning south when in line with the coast of Spain therefore avoiding most of the busy shipping lanes and fishing areas. However, all the wind predictions showed light wind from the south which would not make for a quick or pleasant passage, so taking the in-shore route to capture the wind seemed like the best option. We wanted to avoid the shipping lanes as much as possible so headed west of Ouessant before tacking and heading south east following the coast of Britanny which we would have loved to explore but the Covid situation in France and the uncertainty around visiting yachts coming from the UK prevented us from stopping.

The next few days were sunny and calm with light winds. It took us 36 hours to get into a good routine of sleeping but once we were over the initial period of not sleeping and being on high alert, we both coped well with our 3hr watches and grabbed sleep whenever we needed it during our off watch times. Hilda, the Hydrovane, was the perfect crewmate. She kept us on course most of the time and our love for her easy set-up and ingenious design was often commented on. Using her meant we did not need to use the autopilot at all while sailing, saving us valuable power which could be used for other important things, like the fridge, powering electronics and even boiling the kettle instead of using our gas cooker.

The other major win was the way we received updated weather forecasts and weather routing. Steve had worked hard to ensure we had a couple of methods to download information but our preference was to use our SSB and he had been testing this system for the last few weeks with moderate success. We had anchored in some areas where the required connection kept failing and we were concerned it may prove too unreliable while at sea, hence the need for the satellite phone as a back-up. In fact getting our weather through the SSB while on passage never failed and was the cheapest, quickest and best means of communication we had.

We had chosen to leave Falmouth in the early evening so we could be at the start of the busy shipping lane in daylight. Crossing it is a little like trying to cross a multi-laned motorway while wearing concrete shoes! We were only travelling at walking pace while all the rest of the traffic were Olympic runners compared to us! We weaved our way through the large tankers, finding gaps in the perfect places and popped out the other side with relief – now all we had to deal with were fishing boats who often don’t us AIS (GPS tracking) so we needed to remain on watch and alert.

After the first night with no sleep, I started to develop a migraine – an annoying recent condition I’ve developed which only seems to happen when I’m over tired, but when it starts I find it hard to be my cheerful self until the pain and numbness in my face dissipates. While my spirits ebbed, Steve’s flowed as his confidence and enjoyment grew. Seeing this made me feel so much better as we made our way south towards warmer weather, chasing the promised northerly winds.

We were surprised one morning by a swift landing on the boat and staying with us for a while, at one point briefly flying into the cabin before gathering enough energy to head back towards land. As we entered Spanish waters we were welcomed by an armada of dolphins, surrounding us as they headed towards Cerulean at great speed, leaping out of the water and swimming around us for some time before leaving and then returning several times throughout the next couple of days.

Just as daylight started to fade on the third night, the wind started to veer further north. It was so tempting to follow this wind change and head straight to La Coruna but we decided to be patient and continue south as the forecast models showed a stronger better wind belt if we were prepared to take the risk. If we headed straight for our final destination, the forecast showed us sailing out of the northerlies and into no wind before turning southerly, so we waited. We took the opportunity to try out our new cruising chute and made good speed in very light winds, enjoying the peace and quiet and warm sunshine.

We were making our passage at a time where there was no moon – not by choice but an unfortunate clashing of dates, timing and weather! The benefit of no moon was we were treated to an incredible display of light-unaffected clear skies making the universe appear in all its glory around us! The disadvantage being the dark nights which were very short, with light starting to appear at 4am and remain in the sky until around 11pm. As we cut through the water phosphorescent sparkled in our wake and, under the moonless skies, I found this quite magical and mesmerising. Our days were busy – observing, planning, checking, reading, sleeping, talking, preparing, plotting, noting and tweaking – if you were thinking we would be bored or restless, think again! We were both relaxed, happy and excited to see our slow progress as we plotted our course on a paper chart of the Bay of Biscay spread across the table in the saloon.

We are lucky on Cerulean to have a choice of berths to use while on passage. We have three cabins – our main one is at the back of the boat and has a large, very comfortable bed. While sailing in calm conditions it is a perfect place to sleep as you can snuggle up with plenty of room to stretch out and lots of airflow coming through. It is not a good place to try to sleep when the engine is on or when activities (ie sail or course adjustment), is required in the cockpit as noise reverberates through the cabin. The forward berth has become a storage space for sails and other bulky items so, for this passage it was not available to sleep in. The passage berth is where we stored all our non-perishable food but the top bunk had been kept clear as an alternative bed while at sea and I had made it up with clean sheets and warm blankets. Located in the centre of the boat it is the most stable place to be when rolling in the Atlantic swell which is always present in the Bay of Biscay, regardless of weather conditions. Although hard to climb into once there the top bunk was a great place to sleep and watch the sea from the portlight located at the head of the bed while being cocooned from the noises happening in other parts of the boat.

On day four the wind started to increase along with the waves and by early evening we had reefed (made smaller) the main sail. As the wind continued to increase we put a second reef in the main and sailed on just the small, forestay, jib, still making over 8 knots as we surfed down the waves and battled the ones hitting us on the beam (side). We were within sight of land now and rounded the exposed Cabo Prior at sunrise still keeping a good distance out to avoid the shallowing (although still deep) waters that create more sea swell.

At last we saw the white buildings of La Coruna in the distance and, with the seas settling calming as we sailed further away from Cabo Prior and closer to our destination. We were both tired from no sleep but happy as we dropped the sails and turned into the very sheltered Marina Real where one of the helpful team was waiting to direct us to our berth. As we approached the pontoon I pulled the gear stick towards me to put the engine into neutral and then reverse to slow down. Nothing happened. I could still hear we were in gear and putting the stick in reverse only resulted in us going faster forward. We were running out of room and I was not certain I could spin the boat around in the space left between the pontoon and the stone sea wall…..

High and Dry

I’m going to start with some boat basics so forgive me if you know this already….! A boat is moved forward by a propellor, which sits at the end of a shaft. The shaft comes through the bottom of the boat and is driven by the engine. Where the shaft comes through the hull, there needs to be a good seal to stop water entering the boat. This is called the Stern Gland and as the shaft is continually turning when the engine is in gear, to ensure it does not get overheated they are normally kept cool by ensuring plenty of grease or water is surrounding them. Ours is water cooled, which normally is linked to the engine and provides a loop – what in at the stern gland and out with the engine exhaust. During installation the hose connected to the engine had not been installed, which in itself was not too bad, providing the loose end was safely secured above waterline. This had not happened, and during our earlier engine work, must have been knocked into the engine bilge allowing water to flow freely and unnoticed for a few hours.

Having removed all the water from the bilge, we motored back up the river that was now very familiar to us. To cut a long story short(er), the re-pitching of the prop was not a success and, after spending another night in the boatyard and relaunched on the morning high tide, we found ourselves back in the boatyard a few hours before the late afternoon high tide. Richard worked furiously on the propellor and Graham, the boatyard manager, returned at 9pm to refloat us for the last time, as the boatyard was closing the next day. We did a quick sea trial as we headed over to St Mawes to anchor for the night and meet up with a friend, Jason, the next day.

We spent a few days in Falmouth and St Mawes, enjoying the peaceful surroundings of this lovely village, working through our job list and having our second Covid vaccinations. From our anchorage in St Mawes we could see three castles and felt very privileged as we watched numerous ferries bringing day trippers into the picturesque village while we had the luxury of being in the quiet bay and able to enjoy the landscape and pretty houses at our ring-side location! Jason rowed over for breakfast one morning and, as he was returning to shore, rowed into our neighbours steel boat, hitting them with a loud crash. We were blissfully unaware of this until we caught up with Jason later, so decided to visit our neighbours and apologise for their rude awakening. Adam and Marie had moved on board their 48ft boat, Hyperion, two years ago with their two lovely young children, Ella (9) and Aiden (10). We spent a little time getting to know each other, enjoying the relaxed conversation and shared experiences that I love about the sailing community.

Richard had been in touch and told us he wanted to have another go at changing the pitch on the propellor as our revs were still not quite right. As the boatyard was now closed and the other yards had at least one month waiting list, the only option was for us to dry out alongside a wall. Fortunately Tim and Emmie on Shadowfax, our sister boat, had used a wall at the Royal Cornwall Yacht Club to dry out a couple of weeks earlier and Steve had the foresight to spend a little time observing the set-up of the procedure. We arranged to borrow a couple of big fenders, cleared some rocks off the beach where our keel would sit and talked to the Yacht Club bosun who was very encouraging and supportive when seeing our nervous anticipation at the thought of deliberately grounding our home when we have done it accidently, badly in recent times!

Forty five minutes before high tide, we slowly starting weaving our way through the moored boats towards the wall. As the approach is very shallow we did not want to leave it too long before high water, and definitely not after high water, just in case we misjudged the depth and ran aground. High tides were getting lower as we were heading towards neaps (when the difference in height between high and low tides is at the lowest), so we knew that if we did not dry out on that day, there would not be another opportunity for over a week. We were making progress to the wall when we noticed another boat approaching and watched with horror as they tied up alongside leaving no room for us. We stopped Cerulean and tried to find out whether they were intending to remain there or just load up and go. For ten minutes we circled, unsure whether we would still be able to take advantage of the very small window that we thought we had. At last we saw the other boat leave and we quickly got into position and slowly came alongside, watching the depth get lower as we approached the wall until only 0.2m of water was below the keel. Once safely tied up we then had to ensure we remained in the correct position while the tide went out so when we did touch the bottom it would not damage the boat or fall over. We attached one of our halyards (line from the top of the mast used to pull up sails), to a secure point in the lawn to try and give the boat a slight lean and ensure we did not fall away from the wall when the tide went out. Then we waited! In fact there was a little more water than we had first thought and it took about an hour and a half for us to hear a thud and shake as the keel settled on the sandy bottom. While we waited for all the water to ebb away, there was a steady string of interested visitors wanting to know about the boat, our plans, the work we were doing while we were drying out – many times we repeated ourselves but we enjoyed meeting everyone.

High tide was at 9:45pm so with Richard having completed the re-pitch, we re-floated and went to test the engine in the evening light. Our short motor across the bay to St Mawes seemed to deliver very positive results with the engine getting to maximum revs and us speeding along at almost 8 knots – our maximum hull speed.

The next morning Jason and his friend, Robert came on board for breakfast just as Marie and Adam on Hyperion were heading out of the bay towards Falmouth. We waved to them as they sailed past in the light morning breeze. Jason and Robert were keen to talk to us about the boat as they were also looking to sail to NZ. We had a fun breakfast with them and as soon as they left we pulled up the anchor and followed Hyperion to the Falmouth Marina where they were being hauled out. It was late afternoon when we checked our phone and had several missed calls from Jason. He told us he and Robert were sailing up the river when they heard one side of a Pan Pan (an emergency call to the Coastguard where a boat is in trouble but lives are not at imminent risk). The call was from a boat taking on water as they were sailing east along the coast from Falmouth, and the boat’s name was Cerulean! Knowing our past record, Jason and Robert contacted the Coastguard to ask if they could assist and were told it was all in hand, so they sailed on to the pub instead! Jason was relieved to hear we were safely in a marina and, this time the boat taking on water, was not us!

We stayed in the marina for two nights. On the first night we had the Hyperion crew staying with us as their boat was out of the water and the marina wouldn’t allow them to stay on board. On leaving the marina we filled our fuel tanks with 630 litres of diesel which almost broke the bank but comforted us to think it will, hopefully, last us at least six months so eased the pain a little! When paying for diesel you pay 20% tax on 60% of the total for using the fuel to propel the boat, and no tax on 40% for heating. The diesel is dyed red to prevent it being used in cars and some European countries are not happy about UK boats using red diesel and may insist tax is paid on the remaining fuel, although this does not happen very often.

Richard came on board to complete the final few jobs while his lovely dog, Rusty, patiently waited in the cockpit in the afternoon sun. One of the jobs he did was to fix our bilge pump floater switch which we hope we will never need again! We said a fond farewell to Richard, hoping to see him in Spain in a couple of weeks as he had an opportunity to crew on a super yacht. I’m not sure Richard believed us when we said we were really leaving in a few days!

Bea and Andy returned from their holiday in Northern Ireland so we arranged for them, and their lovely house guests, Lilian and Turki, to come sailing. Sadly the rain arrived so the sail in great winds was a little damp, but our spirits were high and we all enjoyed the wind in our faces while Cerulean sped along at 7-8 knots with the new main and yankee (large sail at front of boat) filled. Bea has joined the crazy trend of cold weather swimming and swam off the boat as we all marvelled at her courage and commitment!

We said what we hoped would be our final goodbye to Bea and Andy as we left them in Helford Passage and motored up the river to continue our preparations for the long journey ahead of us as we prepared to leave the UK in two days.

Rescued again!

The number of Covid cases in all of the UK had started to increase at such a rate that it felt like doors were closing behind us as we made our way south. Just as we were leaving Northern Ireland, tighter measures were put in place and it was no longer possible to visit people in their homes and pubs were closing. Wales was starting to talk about stopping people entering or leaving some regions, so we were keen to continue heading south as soon as possible and head for Padstow on the North Cornwall coast. The weather looked good, although winds were light so, after resting from our memorable night sail from Holyhead, we set off at 4.30am to make sure we could arrive at the entrance to Padstow in time to cross the sand bar and get a berth the inner harbour which is only open two hours either side of high tide. More big winds were forecast so once again, we had a race against time to get to Padstow ahead of the weather!

We had 60 miles to cover in 10 hours, so if we could keep our average speed at 6knots we would be there in time to cross the bar and get into the marina. As the wind was light, we had to motor to keep within our schedule and, although the seas were sloppy with waves on our side causing us to roll quite violently, it was relaxing sitting on deck and watching the sun slowly rise. A dolphin joined us for a while to greet the sun as we slowly watched the coast of Wales fade into the distance.

When we bought Cerulean, we knew the engine was in desperate need of a major overhaul or replacing and we have chosen to get a new engine installed over the winter. During our trip we have been patching up the engine and spending the least amount on it in order to keep it going until we haul out in October. Apart from drinking copious amounts of oil, she has been reliable but, call it what you like, I had started getting a feeling we would not make it all the way back to Cornwall without something happening. My sense of impending problems was so strong we had a conversation about what we would do if the engine failed on this passage and I had asked Steve to ensure he was well versed in knowing how to change the impeller and where the fuel filters were stored. With these words ringing in our ears I heard the engine splutter and then stop! On the positive side, the sun was shining and we had been averaging 7knots in speed, so had a few miles under our belt……

We unfurled the headsails and started sailing – under 5knots at first but the wind Gods were kind to us and slowly the pressure started to build and we were soon gliding along at 6knots while Steve tried to figure out what was wrong with the engine. It’s fair to say that Steve is a reluctant mechanic and is learning more than he ever thought he needed, or wanted to know about engines! We deduced, judging by the way the engine suddenly died, it was either a fuel or air problem. We have two fuel filters and Steve cleaned the primary filter – something we had been checking regularly anyway and cleaned the air filter which was very dirty. The engine still would not start. We decided to call Falmouth coastguard on the radio to let them know we were in no imminent danger but inform them of our predicament as we would not be able to cross the bar without a working engine. They in turn contacted Padstow Harbour and arranged a tow from one of their pilot vessels, advising us to call them on the radio when we were 10 minutes away from the entrance to the sand bar. Perfect. The pressure was off and we could focus on trying to repair the engine and sail the boat to get as much speed as possible to ensure we met the tidal deadline.

We arrived at Padstow entrance dead on high tide and called Padstow patrol on the agreed channel. Nothing. I tried again. No response. This time a tourist passenger boat responded saying he would relay our message to Harbour Patrol when he crossed the bar and was closer to the marina. There were two problems. The first being I could see on AIS (our GPS positioning system) that he was quite a long way from the entrance to Padstow and the second problem was he was moving at 3knots and at this rate it would be dark before he relayed the information! The wind had dropped and the current was starting to drag us away from the entrance. I called the marina on the phone and they said they’d pass the message on to the patrol. We watched AIS anxiously as we were drifting closer to rocks and waited for a patrol boat to become visible on the screen but after ten minutes of drifting closer to the rocks, no boats had appeared on AIS leaving the harbour. Now I was getting anxious, so I called again. As I was talking to the captain of the pilot boat, who assured me he was leaving the harbour as we talked, I noticed a lobster pot beside the boat. There are lobster pots all along the coastline and we always keep a close lookout to avoid them, but we had spotted this one too late and ran over it.

On the positive side, as we got ourselves tangled in the offending lobsterpot buoy we stopped drifting towards the rocks, so we took the sails down and waited for our rescuers to arrive while hearing the tourist boat relaying our earlier message to the fast approaching pilot boat!

Lobsterpots look quite innocuous as they bob around in the sea. We have had to avoid them when we’ve been a long way from land in over 40m of water. Sometimes the buoys marking where the lobsterpots are can be submerged just under the surface making them very difficult to spot. The one we had attached ourselves to had a pink flag on a bamboo stick and two buoys – one was a football wrapped in netting, and the other was a pickup buoy just below the water. The flag and the football were attached to each other and the lobster pot by a long piece of thick rope and this was wrapped around our rudder. We were informed that the buoys could be attached to up to 50 lobster pots which meant the weight of our “anchor” could be very heavy and, if we were towed with these attached, could result in us loosing our rudder. With little option and virtually no hesitation, Steve stripped off and, with a knife in hand, dived into the cold water to cut the rope to the lobsterpots. If I wasn’t married to him already, I think I would have fallen in love with him at that point! What a hero he was! Not only was it very deep and very cold, there was a strong tide and a danger that he could get swept under the boat so it was with huge relief that the whole action of diving in, cutting the rope and getting back out of the water took less than 30 seconds!

We were free and there was still time to cross the bar so we headed towards the entrance attached to a long rope behind the powerful pilot vessel with instructions to steer to keep Cerulean directly behind them while still trailing the flag and buoy attached to our rudder! Twice the towing line broke and on the second time the rope joining the flag and buoy managed to work it’s way up and get caught between the top of our rudder and the bottom on the boat, meaning I now had no steering and the rudder was locked to port (left)! Not great when we were still to negotiate a narrow entrance into the inner harbour and be pushed into a berth! The patrol boat came alongside and towed us beside them, both of us squeezing through the harbour entrance as we held fenders to ensure Cerulean didn’t get damaged as we were pushed against the harbour wall.

It was a relief to be safely berthed in the centre of beautiful Padstow – a popular tourist destination and traditional fishing port. A storm was coming and we were happy to be able to spend time in this lovely town.

The next day Steve jumped into the water again and removed the rope from our rudder. Our engine was fixed by a lovely engineer who came on board in the late afternoon and stayed for a few hours until he had removed the offending blockage in the pipe between the fuel tank and filter, and replaced the starter motor – luckily we had a spare on board! We were operational again and it felt good! By the way, just in case you are worried about the Lobsters, trapped in their pots at the bottom of the sea, we did pass on the position of the pots to the Coastguard and Harbourmaster in the hope the fishing boat would be informed.

The inclement weather meant we spent nine days in Padstow, which gave us time to enjoy exploring the town and surrounding area. Our lovely neighbour, Alfie, was our only close social contact as Covid cases seemed to be increasing rapidly, so we kept our distance from the tourists who jostled for position on the harbourside within 20 metres of our boat.

Padstow is a foodie destination with numerous excellent eateries most notably Rick Stein’s famous fish restaurant. In fact Rick Stein establishments are so prominent and numerous in Padstow, the town is locally known as Padstein! He seems to have cornered the market in fine dining, fish and chips, cafés, cooking school, deli and even homeware! I understand people have a love/hate relationship with his presence in the town but his establishments are very popular and obviously bring alot of tourist money to the region.

Padstow must be a beautiful place to visit in the summer as there are several long sandy beaches close to the town and an estuary which, even on a cold sunny day in autumn, was full of kite surfers and windsurfers which Steve watched enviously as we followed a long string of people walking towards the headland. It did feel odd being in such a busy place when we have been quite isolated for a few months and we both felt uncomfortable being in such close proximity to crowds of people.

The weather started to clear and we began planning our next passage around Landsend to Penzance. We delayed our departure by a day after the weather improved, to give the sea time to calm down after the long period of windy weather. We knew the seas would be rolly so did not want to cross the bar in conditions that would be rough. Before finalising our departure we talked to the harbourmaster who looked at the webcam and informed us it was looking calm at the harbour entrance, so on high tide, we slipped our lines and headed up the river towards the sand bar – called Doom Bar!

Crossing Doom Bar was fine, but the seas on the other side were much worse than we expected. We crashed, head on into large breaking waves as Cerulean’s nose buried into the water and soaked us and everything on deck. We discovered leaks in the cabin we had not experienced before as water entered our home through any crack or undiscovered gap. Our belongings rattled as we continued to be thrown down the big waves that broke in front of us while both of us remained remarkably calm through the whole ordeal. At one point I did feel huge guilt that I had led Steve into this situation as it had been my dream to live on a boat and now I melodramatically pictured Steve’s life in danger and, as captain, that was my doing and responsibility. The force of the water was so strong our navigational light, securely mounted on the bow pulpit (stainless steel railing at the front of the boat), was knocked off and thrown back to us in the cockpit!

We continued heading out of the bay into deeper water and away from the islands and headland until we could safely hoist the main sail with two reefs and unfurl the small forestay jib. The boat settled down as we turned the engine off and unfurled the larger yankee as Cerulean picked up speed and we were able to fall into a more comfortable rhythm with the seas and rolling waves! We had three sails up and once again, we made good speed towards Landsend, arriveing on slack tide which is a huge advantage to get around this treacherous headland. There are often large seas at Landsend when the wind is against the tide and we were not looking forward to a repeat of our earlier experience!

We arrived in Penzance as night fell and entered the inner harbour half an hour after the gates opened for their four hour tide window when the harbour gates slowly rise to keep water levels higher than the adjoining outer harbour, which dries out at low tide.

After a peaceful night tied to a large ferry, we left as the gates slowly lowered and headed out of Penzance in glorious sunshine and a steady wind. The near by Medieval castle and chapel on St Micheals Mount was silhouetted against the bright morning sky.

We checked AIS as we turned off the engine and gently sailed towards The Lizard headland, 14 miles away. One other yacht was visible on AIS and it was Saga, our sailing companion on our memorable night sail from Holyhead! They were sailing in our direction and ended up passing close behind us before gybing and following us towards the Lizard. We continued to sail in convoy the remaining 10miles to Falmouth, once again having a wonderful sail under shared skies and seas, speeding along at 8 knots. As we entered Falmouth the weather deteriorated so we put in two reefs in the main before being hit by a rain squall, while a rainbow arched from one side of the harbour to the other. At the same time I noticed something jumping out of the water beside us and announced to Steve we had dolphins again, but as I watched them jumping high out of the water I realised they were not dolphins but a school of very large tuna which were leaping beside us!

What an amazing way to finish our first season sailing on Cerulean. It felt good to be back in Falmouth, ready for the next phase of our adventure and getting the boat ready for the biggest challenge of ours, and the boats, life so far!

Scilly Times

Our passage west from Dartmouth was exactly what we needed to re-establish our confidence and commitment to our adventure and decisions. Our original intention was to sail to Plymouth but with perfect weather conditions and the wind direction in our favour, we made excellent time and decided to keep heading west to the small harbour settlement of Fowey (pronounced Foy). It was a perfect sail with sunshine, blue sky and dolphins that farewelled us from Dartmouth and welcomed us to Fowey. We completed the 50NM trip in 9.5 hours, hand steering all the way as the autohelm was still not playing nice with us!

Fowey is another beautiful town with a rich maritime history. From as early as the 5^th century Fowey supplied monarchs with ships and soldiers. In the 14^th century the town sent 29 ships and three-quarters of its population to fight for the monarch against France. However, they refused to give up their pirate ways after peace was declared and started putting the newly agreed truce at risk. A messenger was sent from London to the town from the king, stating “I am at peace with my brothers in France”. This was not received well in Fowey, and the locals defiantly cut off the messengers ears and nose before returning him to a very unhappy King Edward IV! More recently Fowey was immortalised as a backdrop to the book, Wind in the Willows and Daphne Du Maurier lived here for many years.

The attractive harbour has Fowey on one side and the town of Polruan on the other. Both settlements have old houses built on a hillside, down to a small port on either side of the river. To me, it is a typical Cornish setting with a backdrop of mature trees and patchwork fields. I loved it!

The harbour master directed us to a mooring buoy close to the busy main channel where boats packed with masked tourists came within arms length of us at regular intervals until the sun went down. While enjoying a sundowner on deck a couple passed close to us in their tender, slowed down, spent some time eyeing up Cerulean and yelled out to me, “She is BEAUTIFUL!” I felt like someone had just complimented me on my offspring, and my chest puffed out in pride!

Next morning we had a slow start and left on high tide in calm SE winds. Once again we had a great sail with dolphins joining us as we continued our journey west, this time just a short sail of 20NM to Falmouth. We felt a huge sense of achievement sailing into Falmouth, which had been our ultimate destination when we left Gosport 12 days earlier, having survived a near sinking, learnt a lot about our boat, explored new harbours and growing in confidence as we settled into our new life on the water. We were both surprised at how easily we have adapted and how comfortable Cerulean is to live on.

Andy came to collect us from the Royal Yacht Club who had given us permission to store our dinghy for a few days. We were whisked off to my sisters beautiful home in Falmouth where we spent a relaxing and wonderful time enjoying Bea and Andy’s company, fresh garden produce, amazing views and access to laundry facilities!!!

While in Falmouth we replaced all the reefing lines which were old and several of them had become untied and were lost in the boom. For those non-sailors reading this must sound like another language, but in short, when the wind is strong, you don’t want to have a full sail up, so reefing allows you to make your sail smaller. Our system is called “Single line reefing” which means we can make the main sail smaller without leaving the safety of the cockpit. We had been using just one of the reefing points and decided to replace the system for one that had less friction, giving us easier control when we needed it.

The riggers had just left when a large black inflatable came alongside with three very serious looking uniformed personnel who identified themselves as border patrol and asked if they could come on board. They were interested to know why we had a New Zealand registered boat when it was obvious from her name – Cerulean of Penryn – she was from the UK. After showing all the boat papers, passports, sailing certificates and confirming our plans, they were quite happy to sit and talk to us for a while before leaving us with a request to be their eyes and ears and to report if we see anything suspicious…….

After a wonderful week with Bea and Andy, a good weather window opened up and we decided to make the most of an easterly wind and head for The Isles of Scilly – a 60NM sail South West to the low lying group of islands, approx 30NM off Lands End.

We spent the night before departure in Helford River where Bea and Andy joined us for dinner in the local pub. At 5.30 the next morning we headed out of a glassy Helford River watching a large pod of small dolphins feeding in the bay as Gannets dived around them. As we rounded The Manacles, we set the sails and made the most of the easterly winds, making between 6-8knots as we sped towards The Lizard – the most Westerly point of the UK mainland with notorious currents.

More dolphins – this time much larger – joined us as we continued West to The Scillies. We passed Sunfish lazing on top of the water as we savoured the downwind sailing, crossing the shipping channel before catching the first sight of the islands.

There is something magical about arriving at a new destination by sea and watching as the faint outline of the distant land draws slowly into focus until rock formations, trees and buildings can be clearly defined. We timed our arrival perfectly to make use of favourable currents as we entered the narrow channel that runs between two of the islands – St Marys and Gugh (rhymes with Hugh).

It is thought The Isles of Scilly were named in Roman times after the sun god, Sulis and the islands are scattered with ancient monuments and relics from many centuries. With a population of just over 2,000 living on five of the 140 islands, it really is a special place and we felt very privileged to have been able to get here. The beaches are littered with large, colourful rocks of granite, scattered over white sand and falling into the clear, cold water. The hillsides are covered in purple heather and bracken with large blocks of rock piled on top of each other, resembling a lost game of Jenga!

Over the next few days we explored different islands – St Agnes, Gugh, Tresco and Bryher. Each place had its own unique beauty and landscape from patchwork fields with shelterbelts made up of NZ natives; friendly, inquisitive birds who were happy to share a seat without demanding food; seals lazily lounging on seaweed while sunning themselves in the afternoon heat; amazing sunsets in front of a solitary castle on the headland and views that reminded me of The Bay of Islands with numerous small uninhabited outlying islands stretching out infront of us. We loved our time visiting these special islands.

After five days on the islands, it was time to leave while the winds were favourable and before some nasty weather was due to hit. We left with 20knots of wind blowing us back to the mainland and as we picked up speed, two dolphins leapt out the water beside us. If we can, we will return and explore some of the many other islands we didn’t have a chance to visit but for now we’re just happy we came and didn’t add to the over 500 recorded shipwrecks around these treacherous waters!