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!
