The Isles of Scilly

We left the fishing harbour of Newlyn at the sensible time of 0930, giving Nic just enough time to pelt down to the local bakery to buy two authentic Cornish pasties. 

Departure was aided by the fact that two of the bulkiest, most loudly coloured trawlers had gone off during the night, leaving more room to reverse and turn.

We were expecting to motor most of the way, given a weather forecast of light variable winds. How wrong we were. A fantastic sailing wind sprang up which kept us going for most of the eight hour journey. It was northwest, force 3 to 4. The sun shone from a blue sky, the waters of the Channel merged with those of the Atlantic as we scythed our way through green waves, past the southernmost tip of the UK mainland. After all our huffing and puffing about not enough or too much wind, we finally had the perfect conditions to let Sirena pick up her skirts and run. 

The Isles of Scilly (never call them the Scilly Isles, according to the natives) were visible as misty shapes from 10 miles away. They resolved into low islands of grass and stone, with buoys in the water marking the many rocks and shallows.  

Having dropped the mainsail we motored into St Mary's Pool, the pretty place which is the most popular mooring spot for yachts. There are no marinas, no electricity or soft living on the Islands. The best you can get is a mooring buoy or a place to anchor, where you blow up your dinghy and row or outboard it in to shore. Nic picked up a mooring buoy in St Mary'sPoolwith a boathook, and later we took the dinghy into Hugh Town, to visit the Pilot Gig, a fantastic restaurant in a 300 year old building with 8-foot thick stone walls. There's only one spot where the card machine can get a signal, the walls are so thick. 

Now we are back on board, a little dazed because we have done what we planned. In just over 2 weeks we have sailed from the Medway all the way down the south coast and to the Isles of Scilly. Now, it's time to slow down a bit and chill out.      

     

Falmouth to Newlyn

FALMOUTH scenes:

We sailed out of Falmouth in company with a variety of superyachts who were preparing for racing in Falmouth Bay in an event called The Pendennis Cup - it was quite a sight seeing them raise their many sails and begin zigzaging around.  One of them had a man 40' up a mast, though whether they had a problem or it was his normal station was not clear.



SUPERYACHTS:

The Lizard, with a yacht our size for scale
(that yacht is now moored next to us in Newlyn)

We sailed down to and around the Lizard, keeping a respectable 3nm off as per the Pilot advice to avoid tide rips and races (although other, no doubt local, yachts went closer in). We had a pleasant F3 from the NE so on our quarter, and we ambled along with blue skies and sparkling seas.  Eventually in Mounts Bay the wind died away and so reluctantly it was engine on for the last 2 hrs into Newlyn.

Newlyn is a very commercial fishing port, quite rufty tufty with huge trawlers all the way down to tiny fishing smacks.  We were very lucky to get one of the 9 places available to visiting yachts - there are 9 of us squeezed in with the trawlers growling past our stern as they come and go.  The people who run the harbour are very friendly, but the facilities are somewhat basic (Lesley says that's an understatement - for instance there's a gents toilet and no ladies, and the gents is clearly used by everyone who works in and around the harbour).  We didn't even inspect the shower ... better not to know.  The town is nice, quiet (even on a Friday night) and feels very authentic - not a tourist attraction in sight.

Plymouth to Falmouth

We were expecting to play chicken with a herd of war-ships when we left Plymouth this morning. But none showed up to play. We raised the main sail in record time just off Penlee Point, just as three boats full of Royal Marines buzzed us at 20 knots, on exercises. Rather an alarming sight.



For the first part of our journey to Falmouth, we had to motor in little wind. But later, the magic northerly wind arrived and we had hours of real sailing on a close reach in winds between 12 and 20 knots. One classic yacht followed us all the way. 

It wasn't sunny, (grey and dull) and it wasn't dry (often wet through with spray and rain) but it was truly exhilarating and Sirena IV felt like she had been let off the leash, surging ahead through the grey waves.

After eight hours or so, we neared Falmouth, with its prominent white lighthouse and amazing fleet of moored boats in the harbour, including scruffy tiddlers and a row of billionaires' super-yachts with three masts. 


We took a slow and careful look around the 
Town Quay but there was no space for us in that honeypot. Regretfully we turned away and went up the river Fal to the Marina, which is a long walk from town and a lot less bustling and exciting. However, there's no time to go into town anyway, what with cooking a hearty beef stew, passage planning for tomorrow and - blogging.

  

    

Brixham to Plymouth

Famous 1926 fishing smack in renovation

A reluctant farewell to Brixham, we could probably have walked the hilly streets some more, and called in at churches and museums.  Also the showers scored an unprecedented '10'.  But we must keep making westing while the weather is settled.  We had full sail set and engine off within 15 mins of leaving the pontoon, but there was no wind so 10 mins later furled the foresail and engine back on ... sigh.

Out past Start Point, so called because the sailors of old thought that when they passed it their ocean journey had really started.  Tom Cunliffe, who writes the Shell Channel Pilot that we read avidly every day, says that Start Point is where you leave the 'Channel chops' (choppy seas) behind and welcome the ocean swell from the Atlantic.

Then finally, halfway down the long leg to Plymouth, the promised NW F4 arrived, and we sailed close-hauled for hours ... managed to sail all the way in to Plymouth outer harbour.  In the process we were circled by warships (again) - there's at least 4 of them going in and out and around about.  

Also many other yachts following similar tracks to us, which is always nice although it does bring out an entirely unnecessary competitive spirit.

Navigated through Plymouth sound past Drake Island, West Hoe, and moored in the Mayflower Marina right next door to the Devonport naval base.  All the names are hugely redolent of our maritime past.

Royal William Yard, Plymouth at sunset

It was a 9 to 5 day - the tide times could not be better for a civilised start time, and passage took 8 hours exactly as planned.  We are now sitting in our cabin after sundown, listening on the VHF to the warships talking to the central control room as they anchor up for the night - we heard English, French, German and Spanish warships, 6 of them anchored in the harbour.

Brixham in brief

Brixham Day Off - chores in brief.



Showers -best so far around the UK and much needed after 3 days dirty.

Laundry, water in tank, petrol for outboard, food shopping at the Co-op.

Blogging, investigation of engine trouble last night, hose down boat.

Passage plan for next day's journey. 

Phew.




Tonight, a treat - fresh Brixham fish at Number 15, The Quay. 

And a walk past the historic Brixham smacks Pilgrim, Vigilance and Iris.

26 May Studland to Brixham & a rescue

We had a lazy day at anchor in Studland Bay yesterday, in a semi-static community of about 30 yachts and motorboats.  The wind continued to whip & whistle until late afternoon when it calmed down enough for us to inflate & launch the dinghy, having first checked the outboard would work - it had been sitting on the pushpit bracket since last July completely untouched and it started 2nd pull - remarkable little Yamaha 2-stroke. Most other yachts just walk off their 'sugar-scoop' stern into their dinghy (and appallingly most of the people don't wear lifejackets which is just daft).  Our stern is full of equipment and of a more old-fashioned (traditional) shape, so we set up a wooden ladder amidships.  We buzzed over to the part of the beach where Nic's family had a beach hut for 40 years and had friends who still went there - we knew some were in their hut because their skull&crossbones flag could be seen.  We met up with them and then there was sadness - one dear friend, not old, had passed away suddenly last winter.  It felt as though a little bit of the beach was gone, as Graham was such a grand character, full of enthusiasm and skill in all things boaty.  The evening and sunset was very pretty, and we took pics of Sirena IV from the dinghy.


Today (26 May) rather than just doing 25 miles to Portland we decided that as the tides were right and the weather was forecast gentle, we'd do the long haul of 70+ miles to Brixham - this would really get us west.  As I write this we are some 5 miles off Brixham and it's 2000 (8pm for landlubbers) so we should just get in before dark.  The trip has been uneventful, in part due to careful route planning to avoid nasty tide rips around headlands, especially Portland Bill.  The main event was around 1900 when we were briefly joined by a pod of perhaps 10 small dolphins, or perhaps they were porpoises - after 10 minutes of appearing & disappearing (almost never where the camera was pointed) they stopped appearing.  

The weather forecast today was for SE Force 3-4 wind to start, switching later to NW or even N - so we entertained visions of sailing a lot of the way.   Ha ha.  We had Variable Force 1 (the flap of a butterfly's wings), then W (on the nose) F2-3 - all useless.  So motor-sailing was the order of the day, with the mainsail up to show willing.  We did engine off and tack for a while mid-afternoon, but were only making 2.5kn towards our upwind destination which would have meant arriving at 0200 after 17 hours passage, which is unnecessarily hard work and risky through fatigue, so after a pleasant sail it was engine on again - I never thought I'd love the engine so much.  Yes we could I suppose have drifted into Portland, but the forecast is more stronger W wind tomorrow so this is a chance to get across the big stretch of Lyme Bay (40 miles) in settled conditions at least ... and we want to get on westwards!

Some brief stats for this voyage so far:
8 passage days and 3 rest days
passages ranging from 5 miles to 70 miles
280 nautical miles
46 engine hours
and a lot more sailing than last year!

(27 May) And here is why this was not posted last night: 3 miles out from Brixham we came across a yacht whose engine had broken, and the wind had died - so we offered a tow into Brixham which took some time, especially as neither of us had done towing before.  Plus we had a minor engine problem ourselves, unconnected except for Sod's Law.  Made it in at 10pm and after lots of conversations with both Brixham & Berry Head Coastguards and the Marina no-one could raise a rib to come and guide him onto a pontoon ... so we towed him all the way in and cast him loose when there was just room for us to turn away and he glided up to a pontoon without ramming it or us (no engine means no brakes - all he had was a bucket on a rope).  So mission accomplished rather well, although more through luck than judgement perhaps.  Had a beer together afterwards and it turned out his boat is a Nicholson 30, so almost family :-).  We got back from the pub at 2330 zzzzzz

The Needles

Lesley writes: The rain lashed down like arrows and the wind howled as we got up, for a second morning, intending to set off from Yarmouth to Nic's childhood sailing ground of Studland Bay in Dorset. Yesterday we decided to stay put because of a forecast Force 6-7. Today the Met weather looked better, (F4-5) so we waited until the rain eased off and I helmed us out into the western end of the Solent, just before high tide.

Almost immediately the read-out showed 25, 28, 30 knots of wind (Force 7), coming from dead ahead (of course!), as we progressed down the infamous Needles Channel where a huge body of water is compressed into a small space. The wind was increasingly fighting against tide, making the waves so short and enormous, that Sirena IV was being flung around like a 7-ton cork. It would have helped if we had had a scrap of mainsail up, but trying to raise a sail, and reef it in those conditions seemed too dangerous. 

I wrestled with the wheel as great showers of spray flew all over us, drenching us every few minutes. Later we found our faces caked in salt. It was at this point that the chart-plotter at the wheel (our sat-nav of the sea) decided to play up. An alarm sounded plaintively as the screen declared moodily it 'could not fix our position.' Nothing to do but carry on on the current heading. 

The scuppers beside the cockpit were permanently full of water as it couldn't drain away fast enough before the next wave. We increased the engine revs to 2000 just to try and forge our way through (usually it's 1500-1800). At last we saw the famous Needles lighthouse go by and hoped to be out of the worst. The chart-plotter revived, though it would occasionally black out and then re-start again.

The trip did not become more comfortable. We rolled madly all the way across Poole Bay. As Nic helmed, we discovered his waterproof trousers didn't live up to their name and his deck shoes got soaked. Our hands were numb inside drenched gloves. In short, we got a bit fed up with it.

Lessons Learned:
1. put reefs in mainsail whilst on pontoon - always easier to shake out than reef, and you'll get a better set of sail
2. put small mainsail up while in protected water when safe to be on deck in head to wind
3. wear full wet-weather gear & boots - easier to change 'down' when dry than change 'up' when wet
4. have lifelines ready in cockpit instead of buried in a cupboard
5. don't forget about the effect of wind over tide, especially in narrow channels - it can make the deck a no-go area.

Nic in Studland Bay with Old Harry behind

As we approached our goal, the wind and waves subsided. Studland Bay, where we had to negotiate our way through a herd of racing catamarans to gain a quiet corner of the bay and anchor in 2.2 metres of water. This is the corner where for many years, Nic and his dad Ken would sail in their family dinghy to admire the big boats anchored there. Ken never owned a big boat where he could spend the night in the Bay. But Nic does, and here we are today, loving it and remembering Ken with a small Drambuie (his tipple of choice).

Nic writes: it's a strange feeling for me, being in a now very familiar boat, and in a very familiar place that I have visited for more than 50 years, and putting them together.  It's a good feeling, remembering when Dad & I used to sail around the 'big boats' in our little dinghy, fantasising about owning one, or just about being invited on board (which did happen once, as I recall).  If there was a dinghy today with people looking admiringly at our boat then I would invite them on board.

Last night's tuna stir-fry 

Yarmouth (IoW) addendum

Lesley admiring classic boats

Fri 23 May:  It is a pleasant evening now, back on the boat in Yarmouth harbour, relaxing after a large stir-fry topped with fresh tuna steak courtesy Waitrose in East Cowes.  We'd hopped on the bus from Newport to go to the Classic Boat Museum, which was brilliant - a slightly chaotic treasure trove of pictures, documents and models of the beautiful racing yachts of yesteryear, plus a variety of ancient dinghies and miscellaneous small boats lovingly restored by the museum volunteers.

NB we are putting up smaller pics to take less space, just click them to enlarge

ocean-going China Blue

Nic 35 Coriander at Yarmouth, 
as mentioned in previous blog

Going back to yesterday, in Newtown Creek, there was a very interesting little yacht at anchor - we had to pass very close on our way out due to the lack of water - called China Blue.  A little googling showed this is a famous boat, a folkboat with a junk rig - there's lots of background at this link

Storm and fury

We're writing this in a cafe in Newport as the rain beats down outside. 
Yesterday started peacefully in the glorious calm of Newtown Creek. Later that morning a violent thunderstorm burst above the boat, with driving rain and rumbles and flashes for hours. We felt safe and cosy inside Sirena IV. Later that afternoon the storms blew away and we set off, at half tide, for the short journey west to Yarmouth. It was a tricky departure. As Lesley detached us from the big mooring buoy, Nic had to swing the boat around in about 2 feet of water under the keel to find our way through a narrow deeper channel, using the chart plotter (like a satnav) and the depth gauge. 
We did touch bottom but reversed off successfully! 
The rest of the trip was pleasant and straightforward, and the harbourmaster at Yarmouth  showed us to our berth just before the rain began and the giant Wightlink ferry barged into the harbour. 
We spotted another Nicholson 35, Coriander and spent some time with its owner Adrian in the Kings Head nearby. We took a taxi to do some food shopping because we planned to be away from land for a while anchored off Studland beach, Nic's childhood sailing ground. The plan was to leave at 0630 today, to catch a good tide for going through the Needles channel. 
But when day dawned, the weather forecast had worsened. We would be anchored at studland in force 6 or 7 from the southeast, the worst possible direction. It was blowing a hoolie as we made the decision to go back to bed. And that's why we're in a cafe in Newport, having come here by bus, as a way of making some fun out of a filthy day. 

Newtown Creek, IoW

Up the Creek, and no we don't have a paddle. Nor much mobile broadband, hence this filing is short & sweet.

The most beautiful anchorage in the Solent they say, though it feels a tad bleak this evening, with gathering grey clouds and more wind than forecast. Still we are snug here and await the forecast the old way, on the radio.

We had a pleasant sail down the Solent with another following wind - can you believe it! This after a restful morning in Haslar watching various sailing school boats practicing arriving and leaving, and one of our neighboring WWII Motor Gunboats went out with a huge growl of engines and plume of diesel smoke. 

Even on a cool grey Wednesday there are lots of yachts being used in the Solent, which is good to see after last year when seeing another yacht at sea was a major event. 

Now for a peaceful evening listening to the cries of the birds and the soughing of the wind.

Newtown Creek one way

Newtown Creek t'other way

More warships in Pompey

Today was our first day off after a scramble to get from Medway to the Solent in just 4 days. In a way, Sirena IV has come home to Gosport. In 1978 she was built at the historic Camper and Nicholson yard, which used to be just a short distance from where we are berthed now at Haslar Marina. She is nestled near to the former lightship Mary Mouse where we had a splendid meal last night.




This area really is all about warships. Not only are there three WWII gun-ships moored close by (all are heading for the Dunkirk 70th anniversary next month) but if you look across the water to Portsmouth, you see HMS Warrior in the historic dockyard and a bevy of today's Navy ships, all grey metal and mysterious white domes.   

And near Haslar Marina is the Royal Navy's Submarine Museum, where we went on board the only surviving WWII era submarine, HMS Alliance. It is in amazing shape. Our guide had been one of the crew- he pointed out his former bunk, and told us how he had been made very deaf by working for years in the engine room with no ear protection. A big surprise: the museum had two periscopes which poke out above the building, which meant we could spy on our own dear yacht sitting there in the marina nearby! 

Back in our floating home there was a sudden emergency on our pontoon. A yacht was just arriving, and the woman stepping off it fell badly, hurting her ankle and banging her head and face. We rallied around, picked her up and helped her on board, and suggested her husband call the marina staff who had a paramedic on hand. Luckily it turned out she didn't need hospital treatment but was quite wobbly and shocked. 

Tonight Nic cooked a delicious stir fry and we decided where to go next - a quiet place far from any warships.  

Brighton to Portsmouth - Warship special (19 May)

Brighton provided our first experience of swanky south-coast toilets & showers; each cubicle is a bathroom with shower, toilet and washbasin and they have a set between mens and ladies that can be used by both together.  Almost 5-star except they still haven't designed them to stop the whole floor getting wet.  Showers and tides ... subjects on which we have so much more to say ... but moving on, as we did at high noon.

chart table on passage, maps & logs

A long straight leg of 27 miles to Selsey Bill afforded us a beautiful broad reach/run with genoa only before a F3-4 ESE and a 1m swell that had us rolling merrily.  Except we weren't quite so merry, at first as we found our sea legs (have had flat calm for 3 days before), and then later as the genoa kept collapsing during extreme rolls.  Improved things by re-routing the genoa sheets, but regretting that we have not solved the whisker/spinnaker pole conundrum yet, nor have we found the time to understand and practice using our cruising chute.  All in good time.  We were very appreciative though that finally we had a good long day of down-wind sailing, and overall on the day we averaged almost 6kn (some tide against and some with, so you might say, roughly, that was water speed).  Incidentally, we worked out that when motoring in a calm seaway she does 5kn at 1500rpm which is very economical on fuel.  I think her slippery bottom (newly anti-fouled) helps.  Too technical?  We think not.

HMS Bulwark leaving The Solent

Don't look now, it's the Navy

W33 - chasing us ... or passing us?

We took the Looe Channel past Selsey Bill, which is shallow and narrow and a good short cut, and then across to Horse Sands Fort (motor on and sail furl here) and then follow the edge of the shipping channel into Portsmouth, crossing over to the 'wrong' side for entry as that's what they require.  We saw HMS Bulwark coming out, the Navy's largest and the one stationed at Greenwich during the Olympics, and a smaller navy ship ('W33' - a frigate?) came past then stalked us from behind before steaming past towards Cowes.

We dropped into Haslar Marina which is conveniently first on the left, on the Gosport side, and moored with no fuss onto a visitor pontoon.  It was 2050, and a quick check with the Marina office suggested the restaurant in the beautiful lightship at the marina entrance stopped serving at 2100.  A very quick tidy up (of the boat, not us) had us there at 2105 and the wonderful Maria happily took our order.  All food tastes fabulous after a long passage, yet this was even better than that - and there was time for a pudding.  Which explains why this blog was written not that night but on the following day.  Zzzzzz.

Blazing sun and Beachy Head

Dover harbour, castle on hill

Big contrast to last year's hairy chillsome sailing - hot weather and no wind! Leaving Dover, we motor-sailed into a mill-pond, and conditions got hotter as the day progressed.


There was early mist and haze which hid the grey bulk of Dungeness nuclear power station
 until we were close by.

Lesley saw two fins about 300m behind us for a couple of minutes - we can't say what they were.

We were heading for Eastbourne but as we neared the town, with tide flowing in our favour, we realised the tide & weather were right to keep on going all the way to Brighton. 

Beachy Head

These were ideal conditions to round Beachy Head, which is tricky in rough weather. So we ventured in pretty close for a superb view of the towering cliffs.

Kept chugging down the coast on the 10-metre depth contour, until we arrived in Brighton after 11 hours and 65 miles, jockeying with legions of Sunday sailors in huge shiny yachts and even huger motorboats which sounded their air-horns just for fun.




We rarely sit about and drink alcohol (no time) but today we lounged in the cockpit with whisky and Campari to celebrate a long leg. Down the hatch.







    

   

Ramsgate to Dover

Up late and slowly, just because we could - can't leave until after HW at 1330 due to the tide flows.  Did the passage planning for today to Dover, and tomorrow's leg on to Eastbourne.  Huge thought required about when is the best time to pass headlands due to the tides, and then working back with estimated speeds per hour (as the tide changes) to find the optimal time to leave.

Had a pleasant lunch at a boaty (not touristy) quayside cafe behind the the marina, a surgical strike into Wilkinsons for some tupperware, then we made tomorrow's lunches because it will be a very early start - how organised are we!  Leaving Ramsgate was much easier at half tide, had a decent bit of water under the keel.

Same wind as yesterday i.e. light and on the nose-ish.  Put the mainsail up anyway, and as yesterday hoisted our motoring cone - whilst most yachts don't bother, it seems a good idea when we are around a lot of commercial and port authority shipping.  Motor-sailed the direct route close-in past South Foreland and to a point about 2nm off Dover.  Saw 5 ferries criss-crossing before we got there, but no need to alter course.  Doused the sail - by now it was 1830 and flat calm - and called up Dover Port Control for permission to approach the harbour - they are very strict about that.  Through the western entrance and straight into the marina's tidal basin with no problem.  Dover Harbour is huge, it has its own tidal streams (yes, I know, we go on about tides a lot :-) 

So another lovely calm, stress-free day that went according to plan ... until we arrived at the pontoon.  Sirena IV is immaculately behaved out at sea, she steers herself on a steady course when motor-sailing so that we only need to touch the wheel occasionally.  Yet put a line onto a pontoon and she starts swinging around and charging backwards and forwards - well, she wasn't designed for marinas (they didn't have them back in the early 70s)

First Leg - navigational coda

For those interested in the Thames Estuary navigation.  It was a lovely day, almost no wind, calm sea ... so why didn't we go the shorter 'Overland' route and through the new (2012) Copperas channel to N Foreland ... surely it was perfect conditions.  We did consider it at some length, however the reasons against were as follows:  it was top (and bottom at LW) Springs, and we would have got to the shallow transition at Copperas at LW-2.  At that point there would have been perhaps 3m of water looking at the latest chartlet from eastcoastpilot.co.uk - or perhaps less because there is a 'Caution' note for the area.  That means 1.3m or less under our keel.  So feeling our way with a 1-2kn tide behind us means if we touched we'd stick and be there (at an angle) for 4 hours.  So maybe we're wusses, yet it just didn't seem worth the risk, especially as this is day 1 of the voyage.  Let's get some smooth passages under our belt and make the mistakes later when we've got somewhere.

First leg

It felt like the start of another big adventure, as we prepared Sirena IV to leave her home port of Gillingham. She has never looked better, with snowy decks, wood newly restored (stripped, treated with oxalic acid and teak-oiled) and even new navy covers for her fenders.  

We headed into the lock with our old friend Harry there to catch a line. He saluted as we chugged out into the familiar Medway. 

The wind, a mere Force Two, was easterly (right on the nose) the sky blue, the air warm and the water was calm. We motor-sailed against the tide for a couple of hours to get to Garrison Point where the river ends and the sea begins. 

And then we wended our way across the top of Kent, via the Queen's Channel, until we reached North Foreland with its white lighthouse and took a right turn to go south towards Broadstairs and then Ramsgate. The entrance to Ramsgate was interesting, as Lesley picked her way carefully at low tide through the very shallow channel leading to the marina. At one point the depth read zero metres under the keel.


The trip took just over seven hours, all of it motor-sailing in light winds, though it felt perishing cold through much of the journey. Lesley piled on 2 thermal vests and layers of scarves and jumpers and it really began to feel like last year's trip to Scotland. Even Nic accepted the loan of a scarf, unheard of for him.  Dinner - giant bowls of pasta and a small sherry. Then passage planning for tomorrow! Slowly, the comforting habits of life on board are forming again. 
    

Small update

Lesley is on air as I type, presenting Money Box Live on BBC Radio 4.  Although we have made amazing progress on the jobs list, there's just too much to finish today (including packing & shopping), so we have made the sensible decision to delay a day - departure now estimated as 16 May (weather & equipment willing of course).  In this way we won't be exhausted on day 1. 

2014's adventure - before it starts

We write this while in Lytham, visiting Lesley's sister Mary.  The boat was back in the water a week ago, and for tales of the Yard work you can look at the Sirena IV @ Gillingham blog.

So the plan is to set off to the South Coast on 15 May ... but we know what happened to plans last year, so we'll have to see what actually happens.  It's certainly going to be a rush when we get back to Greenwich, as we'll have 3 days, and for 2 of those Lesley is preparing & presenting Money Box Live on Radio 4.  There's still a long list of jobs, let alone the victualling and clothes - but everyone setting off on any passage no matter how modest always has a long list, and the non-essential items will get done on the way (or next winter).