Gillingham to Isles of Scilly & back - summary

This last blog is a quick summary of our 6 week, 1,000 mile cruise from our current home base in Gillingham Marina along the English coast, as recorded in the daily blogs below. We were absolutely committed to making Poole, we thought we ought to be able to make Falmouth, and our 'stretch target' was the Isles of Scilly (IoS).

First we'd like to pay tribute to 3 sets of people who brought us to our beautiful Nicholson 35, the perfect boat for us.  First, Tom Cunliffe for two things: suggesting to us in conversation at the Boat Show that a Nic35 would suit us; and compiling the faultless and entertaining Shell Channel Pilot where we used every page from Ramsgate to IoS. Second, Colin & Jo Campbell-Dunlop, of the Nicholson Owners Group, who when we were strangers online offered us a sail in their lovely Nic35, Trutz, so we could try it out without any pressure before buying one.  Third, Dave & Heather the previous owners of Sirena IV (she was called Petanya then, and lived in Glasson Dock & Fleetwood), who did so many great improvements and looked after her so well.

We were very lucky with the weather, a huge difference to last year's cruise.  Yes we had calms with motoring or motor-sailing days, and we also had a lot of easterlies to help us on our way - even when it went westerly it was NW, and we kept going with just a couple of rest days, and finally sailed (proper sailing) out to IoS on 31 May.  We were also fortunate with the tides, in that it just worked out that many days were almost literally '9 to 5' passages - very civilised.  We didn't have a single 'silly-o'clock' start.

Three nights in IoS, then we thought it prudent to come back as the settled weather was changing and you don't want to be trapped out there in a blow - we motor-sailed back in no wind as it happened, after it had been W F4-5 overnight, and the swell was pretty big even then.

The return was more leisurely with lots of days off in interesting places in Cornwall, Devon and Dorset.  (Sorry Hants, Sussex & Kent, but it's quicker to re-visit you.)  Again were were so lucky - the wind was in the westerly sector a lot, so on the beam or behind us again.  And the sun shone almost every day.  Then for the last leg where we turn the North Foreland corner after Ramsgate and head west for Gillingham ... we had a F3-4 easterly - how lucky is that!  I think in 6 weeks we had rain during the day only 3 times, and only twice did we get soaked (F7 hailstones entering Falmouth, and impressive storm as we approached Dover).

Here is the list of berthing/mooring/anchoring locations - 32 in total:
Ramsgate - Dover - Brighton - Portsmouth (Haslar) - Newtown Creek - Yarmouth - Studland Bay - Brixham - Plymouth (Mayflower) - Falmouth (Marina) - Newlyn - IoS (St Mary's) - IoS (New Grimsby Sound) - Newlyn - Falmouth (Pendennis) - Fowey (Mixtow Pill) - Dartmouth (Town Quay) - Dartmouth (river pontoon) - Dartmouth (Dittisham) - Brixham - Portland - Worbarrow Bay (lunch/swim stop) - Studland Bay - Poole (Port of Poole) - Poole Harbour (Pottery Pier) - Lymington - Beaulieu (Buckler's Hard) - Cowes (Yacht Haven) - Portsmouth (Gosport) - Brighton - Dover - Ramsgate.

Last leg

From Ramsgate to Gillingham, our home port, took around ten hours and much of it was delightful sailing in lovely winds and warm weather, a fitting end to the journey to Scilly and back. The crowning glory was 'goose-winging' up the Medway on the home stretch, in other words, with a sail flying out to each side like a bird's wings.

Goose winging up the Medway

Sirena IV is back in her old berth in Gillingham, and we caught a commuter train from Gillingham station back home to Greenwich, rather boggled by the culture shock.

Here are the vital statistics of our trip: - 

958 nautical miles, that's over a thousand ordinary land-miles.

42 days living on the boat. 

125 engine hours (which is a great deal less than last year's trip, when we were motoring more than sailing)

What can't be quantified is the sheer fun we had - fantastic sailing from one end of the English Channel to the other. Thanks for sharing it through our blog!

Dover to Ramsgate

Near the end now, and becoming quite focused on getting home ... because there's so much to do (Wimbledon as well as cleaning the house, reading the vast pile of post and taking a flame-thrower to the garden).  We had thought about having a day off in Dover, but the forecast was for a quiet day weather-wise so it seemed a good chance to make the short trip (17 miles) to Ramsgate - in strong winds the sea can get very lumpy around here (as we may have reported before).

It only took 2.5 hours to motor up in almost no wind with lots of tide behind us. Uneventful until entering Ramsgate Harbour, where the cross tide kicked up a very nasty chop as we crabbed in through the entrance.  

This evening we have spent a huge amount of time researching the tidal atlases and tables, trying to find a better way of getting from Ramsgate to Gillingham (timing that is, not dragging the boat over the fields), but there's no way to avoid starting out into a foul tide which potentially means lumpy seas off N Foreland ... oh well.

Brighton to Dover

65 miles today, a big trip of twelve hours. We had some proper sailing (though winds varied from F0 to F7)  past the headlands of Beachy Head and Dungeness, but most of the day involved tedious motor-sailing in fickle winds from various directions. Last stretch from Dungeness to Dover was the teeth gritting sort, with lots of wind, not sailable, motoring through short choppy waves,  and huge rainstorms which necessitated getting Nic’s seaboots out from a dark locker.  We both ended up very wet indeed.

We could have done the trip in two stages but decided to do it in one long day so we can have a day off tomorrow to get things done.  We arrived in Dover drenched and tired but glad to make it. It feels like we’re on the home stretch now.

Portsmouth to Brighton

A sad goodbye to the Solent this morning; we've had a lot of fun both on the way out and back - 7 different locations in total, pretty much all the ones available to us who don't 'dry out' (apart from Southampton and Hamble ... and why would you).

Yesterday we filled up with diesel at Gosport on arrival - only the second time this whole trip, which shows how much sailing we have done compared to last year's trip.

Portsmouth is very busy with commercial and ferry traffic, even as we left at 0630.  A few pics give an idea.

Portsmouth skyline feature the Spinnaker Tower, ferry in foreground

The wind was SSW F3 all day - a little less than forecast, and a little less than we would have liked.  Wind & waves on the quarter makes for very rolling progress, and if the wind is less than 10kn apparent (i.e. as measured on the boat) the sails sometimes 'fall in' (flap) as we roll which is annoying.  We had a lot of 9kn wind ... and did a lot of whistling for more, to no avail.  We experimented with having a double-reefed mainsail (as well as full genoa), because we thought it would provide extra push and some stability without stealing the wind from the genoa ... later we took down the mainsail and it didn't seem to make any difference.  Shan't bother with that again.

We went through the Looe Channel, a coastal route past Selsey Bill, and there were confused, breaking waves due to the tide flow - this was a gentle tide with wind, so we wouldn't go there if tide against wind or wind > F4.  We did shoot through the channel at 7.5kn.  Then the 27nm slog across to Brighton - I say slog, because the rolling meant that helming was hard work to keep her on course.  Mustn't grumble though because we did sail all the way, and we didn't get rained on once - in fact it was often sunny.

We were both a bit grumpy today though, and we put it down to being on the homeward stretch.  Not that we don't want to go home - there's lots to look forward to there.  It's just perhaps that we're now going into ports because we have to, rather than because we want to ... sorry, Brighton!  

Victory day in Pompey

Our last day of idling before the big push to get home. We left Cowes around ten, and Nic who was on the helm had a ferry-free exit from this very busy port.Whoop. Crossing the Solent's major shipping channel was fairly straightforward, helped by the AIS technology which shows us the track of big vessels, their names, speed and what our closest distance might be. We avoided large Wightlink ferries and the fast hovercraft to sidle into Portsmouth up the Small Boat Channel, and this time into the Gosport Marina.

This marina is still known locally as Camper and Nicholson's - when it was a shipyard, it was the birthplace of our beloved boat in 1978. Sirena IV is truly home tonight, and so we are celebrating with a glass of fizz. 

This afternoon we crossed by ferry to Portsmouth to see HMS Victory as both of us are fascinated by the Nelson era of naval history, being massive fans of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/ Maturin books. 

It's not the first time we've been on board the Victory but being there never fails to please. This time we spent more time in the lower decks and the hold, which is especially redolent of the period, for some reason.

Lesley spotted what may be the biggest cleat in history with the biggest rope wrapped around it - Nic posed by it to add some human scale.







Sadly the top masts of Victory have been removed for refurbishing which is really quite disappointing as she looks stumpy and unfamiliar like that.





Now it's back home on board with a beef stew on the go and the fizz chilling. We've done more than two thousand miles in Sirena IV since we bought her two years ago, and we shall drink to her tonight, so very close to the place she was made.

Across the Solent to Cowes

That joke about bad weather came home to roost; today started cloudy and as we poked our nose out of the protection of the Beaulieu river we found a F6 easterly waiting for us. With a west-going tide that set up a very interesting short chop in the Solent for our 2 mile crossing to Cowes - we motored slowly to minimise the spray reaching the helmsman (wimps).

SIRENA IV, Cowes Yacht Haven, pole position

We called up Cowes Yacht Haven on the VHF and they very efficiently assigned us a berth as S6, and we very efficiently consulted the marina map in our book, avoided the ferries, and motored in ... to the wrong section of the marina.  Not entirely our fault as they do have two pontoons labelled 'S'.  Found ourselves in a dead end populated by small boats and dinghies, and had to do a turn on a sixpence using astern & forward alternately along with continuous bow-thruster whilst touching the bottom - I should think we made a nice pattern in the mud.  Having found the right pontoon, we are in pole position to watch others' comings & goings ... and come and go they did.  First five yachts containing raucous teenagers left, the same ones we had seen at Buckler's Hard, then while we were out a fleet of eight large yachts had arrived and squeezed themselves in around us.  Must have been a lunch stop as about 1500 they all left - one had trouble going backwards even with the skipper/instructor at the helm, they bounced off us and we were thankful we had put up plenty of fenders for just such a likelihood. 

Our outing had consisted of a little light charity shopping, stocking up on whisky, lemonade and flapjacks (all yachting essentials), strolling along the front (Parade) & gazing at all the boats - there's always something to watch at Cowes, the yachting centre of the world. With supreme self control (every 3rd building being an appealing cafe/pub) we repaired back to the boat for lunch on board.  Then from mid afternoon until early evening the wind went south and the heavens opened.  As we snugged down with our books, and made plans for tomorrow, we gave a thought to those training yachts who would now be having a great sail ... and getting unpleasantly cold & wet.

set of starting guns from William IV's day 

Royal Yacht Squadron & starting gun

We rewarded ourselves for having a 'home lunch' by going back out to the High Street, all of 100 yds from our pontoon, for excellent traditional fish & chips/squid & chips dinner in the chippy diner that everyone goes to in the High Street called Corries Cabin.

Buckler's Hard

A rest day in the historic setting of Buckler's Hard, the magical place where some of Nelson's war-ships (including Agamemnon) were built using ancient oaks from the surrounding forests. We pottered around the museum and walked down the green sward where there are still two giant depressions, the shallow docks where the shipwrights would have assembled the men-of-war. It seems amazing they could have floated these giants off and down the Beaulieu river, since these days it is so very shallow.

'A night passage to Beaulieu' is a phrase that may cause Yachtmaster exam candidates to blench. It's a tricky, bendy channel even in daylight and many have ended up on the mud. One infeasibly large visitor who made it today, was a catamaran with young people on board which waited for half an hour near our pontoon, just stemming the tide, until a space could be found in another part of the marina. 

Lunch in the cockpit, a read and a doze in the sun. It's all go. The big news of the day for us is that the oystercatcher we've been watching on the pole near our mooring (see yesterday's blog for the picture) is in fact two birds, parents who work shifts to guard their nest. We were most concerned when we saw the nest deserted, as a noisy boat slid into its berth just below the pole. But five minutes later Mr (or Mrs) Oystercatcher was back, calling plaintively and checking the eggs before settling down and fluffing out feathers.

Sirena IV on her day off

We actually did some work, replacing a badly-worn halyard (a rope we might use for raising a sail, person or dinghy) This involved attaching the new one to the old to pass it up to the top of the mast and back, and then 'seizing' one end of the rope to a metal eye with tough twine to make a stout fastening. That burst of activity over with, we're now blogging and passage-planning for tomorrow while the sun shines, the clouds drift and the oystercatchers come and go. Days like this make us realise how very lucky we are to be able to sail our boat to the loveliest parts of Britain.       

another oystercatcher pose

Lymington to Beaulieu

Terrible day - F7 on the nose - sheeting rain - sail torn - wearing thermals ... ha, ha only kidding!  Flaming June continues with fair winds.  Spent the morning moseying around Lymington Quay & High Street, all very pretty and extremely well-to-do.  Got a couple of good sailing books in charity shops, plus shorts for Lesle

Ben Ainslie's (other) boat at Lymington Marina

y (that'll turn the weather).  Lesley woman-fully volunteered to walk on to Waitrose for 'the food shop' while Nic rested his sore feet in Costa.  On the way back we nipped into a chandlery and bought 28 metres of halyard (rope for hauling things up the mast, usually sails, sometimes the dinghy, and very very occasionally a person) to replace an old one ... as you do.

Wound our way out of the Lymington river at low tide, in order to use the tide up the West Solent for 7nm to the Beaulieu river - managed to do this without meeting any ferries.  Foresail up and ran downwind - yes, the wind is south-westerly, almost unheard of the last 5 weeks despite being the prevailing direction on the south coast.  Wound our way up the Beaulieu river, which is narrower, twistier and longer than Lymington (Lesley came up here in the dark with no GPS on her last course - brave stuff).  Got stuck behind a French yacht that was uncertain where to go, until the harbourmaster launch rescued him.  This was after seeing a small yacht desperately trying to reverse off the mud on one corner, and timing our dash past a large yacht that was (very) short tacking up the channel.

The famous boathouse marking Beaulieu entrance

idyllic scene

We had rung this morning and booked ourselves a walk-ashore pontoon at Buckler's Hard, which turned out to be a smart move because even on a weekday it's busy here and they are full.  A berth on a pontoon or buoy on the river means the faff of using our dinghy or waiting on the possibility of a water taxi.  We are in an idyllic spot, and we'll write more about the Buckler's Hard history tomorrow because we are staying here 2 nights and spending tomorrow doing a few minor boat jobs (replacing that halyard) and being tourists.

our neighbour, Mr Oystercatcher

Buckler's Hard, trad. pic 

Parachutes and ferries

We weighed anchor at 10.30 from our peaceful spot in Poole Harbour near Pottery Pier, and motored towards the narrow exit where happily the chain ferry was busy disgorging a load of cars and couldn't barge across our bows.

Rescue chopper over Old Harry

Once out in Poole Bay and sailing nicely (SE Force 3, close reach) we spotted a rescue helicopter, a lifeboat, a knot of black military boats and in the sky, a big transporter plane. 

Nic recognised what was happening from his childhood experience in these parts. Soon men would be parachuted out into the bay, to be picked up by the fast boats. Serious excitement on a Monday morning. Was it the Special Boat Service? We didn't know. 

The rib heading away from us

A great black rubber boat sped towards us at 25 knots and braked to come alongside. It was full of black-uniformed chaps with windswept hair, ruddy cheeks and forceful demeanour. 


They informed us there would be a parachute drop and we should turn north, towards the beaches of Bournemouth. So we did. 

Two transporter planes droned overhead countless times without making a drop. 

We had cameras at the ready each time and were getting rather fed up. 

At last they dropped two big bits of equipment and a single paratrooper. After that we got back on course and sailed off, excitement over.

Except the sailing itself was exciting most of the day - a lovely 12-15 knot wind across to Christchurch Bay and the North Channel, the shallow western way in to the Solent. We managed to keep sailing past Hurst Point, even though the wind suddenly died there and then came back with a vengeance when we had rounded the corner, in waters which were choppy and turbulent. 

Lesley's next challenge was entering the lovely Lymington river. It's shallow around the entrance but the real focus was on the ferries. In the course of 20 minutes we encountered three very large ones on their way in or out. At one point we did a U turn and went backwards; discretion and valour and all that. 

Finally we crept in on the tail of the third ferry and to our (extremely expensive) marina berth. Into the charming town to have a rather average dinner at the Ship Inn with a rather abrupt barman to boot. But now it's quiet, we've done our laundry and we can chill out in this popular honeypot for sailors. All overlooked by the jolly old ferry snugged down for the night.

Poole to Poole - glorious day sail

Top day ... again.  We are constantly amazed by how lucky we are being with the weather - and how civilised the tide timings are as well.  Last year we were still wearing thermals, and getting up at 4am.

So today we ambled through ablutions (Port of Poole Marina) and breakfast (on-board - resorted to cereal as too hot for porridge, even for Lesley).  Then we joined the Sunday morning exodus of yachts and motor boats out through the harbour; not much heed is paid to the rules of the sea, there are boats going in all directions - it's a big test of our peripheral vision, especially as we were hauling the sails up.  The wind was a decent F3-4 from the East, better than the virtual calm forecast.

We sailed over to Studland, just because for Nic it's an echo of sailing the dinghy here with his Dad, and to see how many boats were anchored there ... loads!  Then we did a 6 mile leg over to Hengistbury Head (Christchurch) on a close reach, and then a broad reach back along the seafront of Boscombe, Bournemouth, Branksome and Sandbanks.  This was the quintessentially perfect sailing.  The entry to Poole Harbour through the Haven from this direction is along the East Looe Channel to avoid sand banks (Sandbanks - geddit?) and even there we only had 0.7m under the keel at times - we would not attempt this in rough conditions.

Bournemouth and it's captive balloon ride

Bournemouth beach was busy

passing close to The Haven, entering Poole Harbour

Then the climax of a perfect day sail, again especially for Nic given his history, was sailing through the Haven - the wind was astern and dying, the tide was with us causing strange waves and pulling the boat around, and we got lucky with the Ferry who has absolute right of way, he was loading as we (and numerous others) swirled past.  We had the engine on in neutral just in case, which is good practice but we did sail in.  The sky was still blue, the sun shone, and the sea sparkled - just like it's supposed to in flaming June.

Har, har - sailed past the Ferry

Pottery Pier, Brownsea Island, Poole Harbour
- there's red squirrels in them pine trees

We downed the sails in a quiet patch of the harbour (well, relatively quiet - it is almost un-be-lievable how many boats of all sorts and sizes are traipsing, swishing and zooming about), and we moseyed between lines of moorings to an area recommended by the Pilot book for anchoring - Pottery Pier on the west end of Brownsea Island.  There were 15 or so boats here when we arrived, with much shrieking from those who threw themselves into the water (not us this time).  We sat and drowsed and read books - so lovely to have idle moments.  Then the welcome jingle of the Cadburys Boat - an ice-cream van on the water, who we first saw in Studland 2 nights ago - another ice-cream for Nic.  Now at 2130 it is still broad daylight and there's just 3 boats sitting in glass calm water watching the dying embers of the sunset.  

Tern chicks and Pirates of Poole

The morning exodus seen from land

A day off in Poole, said Nic. We'll just motor from Studland Bay into Poole Harbour and the town marina. Easy!  Lesley was helming, never been to Poole before, unlike Dorset Boy Nic. It was Saturday morning on a blazing midsummer day and it proved to be a baptism of fire. 

An endless torrent of motorboats, ferries, dinghies and cruisers poured out of the harbour as we felt our way in gingerly through the maze of buoyed channels, in the world's second largest natural harbour. Sirena IV looked like a single salmon swimming upstream. The worst moment came when the gargantuan Condor ferry to St Malo hove into view heading straight for us, just behind the Haven Chain ferry, which is notorious for disregarding yachts. We scattered. 

Eventually we got into the Port of Poole marina, put on non-sailing clothes and caught a ferry to Brownsea Island, owned by the National Trust (except for the splendid castle which is a private holiday venue for John Lewis employees. Go figure.) 

We made a beeline for the wildlife haven whose President is Simon King of Springwatch fame. 

From the first hide, we saw sandwich terns on small islands feeding their fluffy chicks. The adult terns have rather appealing tufts of black feathers on their heads which remind you of Nigel Kennedy in his youth. 

Sandwich tern chick

The incoming parents swoop low carrying a small fish in their beaks, and sometimes do several circuits before they spot their own chick and deliver the wriggling morsel into its open maw.

Later we scanned pine trees for any sign of Brownsea's star turn (not a tern) the endearing red squirrel. Nic caught a far-off glance of a curly tail and small body, but that was it. It seems they don't like the hot weather. 

One animal that WAS upfront was the jackdaw which stalked around aggressively when we had a snack at the cafe. No other bird has the body language of a lairy Cockney geezer. He vaguely reminded us of a roofer we know in south London.      




The ferry delivered us back to Poole Town Quay which was heaving with people in pirate costume because of some local festival, and many tourists who had turned violent pink in the course of a scorching day. The square rigger Tenacious, a sail training ship, was by far the most beautiful thing on view.

Tenacious

Then it was back to the boat for grilled salmon and a rest, before planning tomorrow's destination. It's strange to have such a loose and relaxed timetable suddenly. We'll get used to it.    

Jurassic swimming, live gunnery & biscuit tossing

What a top day!  Started slowly in posh Portland Marina - what a long walk to the facilities.  Before setting off we called for information on the firing range operation (they do a lot of that between Weymouth and Swanage, and might force us to go 3 miles out to sea).  We were told the army was not firing today - good - but the navy is doing some live gunnery practice - not so good;  they are firing from a ship off Portland Bill to a spot off St Alban's Head 17 miles away.  We figured we would be allowed to sail along the coast, and have the option of getting round St Alban's Head after they finished at 1600 and before the tide goes against us at 1700.  

Durdle Door - famous rock archway

Decided to only have an outline plan today - Nic feels he is in his home territory.  Sailed across Weymouth Bay in a very civilised SSE F3, started to tack which meant very slow progress.  We realised we would not have time to see the Jurassic Coast up close and make the tide gate around St Alban's Head.  So we motor-sailed along parallel to the cliffs, said hello to Lulworth Cove which was busy and anchored in Worbarrow Bay, at the eastern end to get shelter from the modest wind and waves.  The only other boat was a dive boat who had obviously anchored there for lunch.  The beach (stony) was deserted, except for a couple of men dressed all in black who arrived in a white van, paddled, sat and disappeared again - another lunch break perhaps.  The hill behind us had a large '3' on it, presumably to identify the target when the army are shooting as we are in their ranges now.

After a little hesitation Lesley decided this was the perfect moment for a swim from the boat, and with a little bit of shrieking and no swearing at all, in she went - applause.  She took the opportunity to try out the emergency MOB ladder and we learned that it needs to be in a different position - by the cockpit looked good for being helped back on board, but the ladder swings under the boat, so it would be better midships.  I should say that all morning there have been the occasional muffled thumps as the navy sends their shells roughly in our direction.

happy sailing man

happy swimming woman

We decided with the forecast for the wind to swing south that Worbarrow was a little exposed to stay the night, so mainsail up and motor on, further along this most dramatic coast with huge cliffs and folded strata, stacks, caves and rocky beaches.  We timed it perfectly to go past the target zone just after they had stopped shelling for the day, although Nic was secretly hoping to be told to wait by a 'Range Safety' boat that nips around at 40mph warning off boats.  It is bizarre that they are firing shells, even if they are duds, over the heads of the commercial and leisure boats, to a small zone marked by buoys.

St Albans Head has tide rips with dangerous breaking waves, and you have to pass it either 3 miles off (which we did on the way down), or very close inshore.  It's a funny thing but many headlands that have these overfalls do have a narrow (100-200 metres) channel right next to them where the water is comparatively calm (as long as you are going with the tide flow).  It's called the 'biscuit toss' route in that you feel you are that close to the land! Think of Portland Bill, Mull of Kintyre, Point of Ayre in IoM.  We usually go round the outside because there are risks (engine failure, pot buoy snagging) and we don't need to take them.  This time though the detour would have been enormous and it was a calm-ish day ... and it was fine.  Huge cliffs you feel you could touch, and on the other side breaking waves 100 metres away - and this was neap tides and F2 wind.

Old Harry, old friend (off Studland)

We thought now that we'd anchor in Poole Harbour, because the easterlies would have left an uncomfortable swell.  The wind had died away completely, temporary clouds had vanished and the late afternoon sun kissed the cliffs and fields as we rounded Anvil Point, Durlston Head, marvelled at how hidden Swanage is when coming from the south, ambled past Old Harry rocks, and gazed upon Studland Bay once more.   It looked so peaceful and inviting that we changed plans and anchored here again.  Slightly rolly, but as beautiful as ever.  Then as Lesley was cooking up a stir-fry Nic shouted "there's a Cadbury's boat - I wonder if they are giving away free samples?".  Too much sun has gone to the poor lad's head she thought as he leapt into the cockpit and waved.  A minute later there was a small boat alongside emblazoned with Cadbury's logos and Nic was buying ice-creams for our dessert.

Now everything is quietening down for the evening, the hugely irritating jet-skis have gone to bed (or to hell, hopefully), and we are ready for zzz too.

Brixham to Portland

Five days away from the boat. Two days of surprisingly good train journeys between Devon and Cumbria, plus three full glorious days with Lesley's sister Mary and family in a luxurious manor-house built in the 1560s. We relished soft white sheets, proper bathrooms and fantastic food. Now it's back to hard tack, the odd shower and washing up with a cupful of kettle water. 

This morning we left Brixham marina at 7am. We had thought about leaving at 3am to get the very best tide with us when we reached the tricky headland of Portland Bill, towards the end of the 56 mile journey. However we decided to risk going later because the tides are neaps right now (ie they are weaker than later in the month) and there was little wind forecast.

It was a scorcher of a day and there wasn't even a tiny zephyr of wind. We motored with no sails up, hour after hour, across Lyme Bay meeting only the odd trawler or motoring yacht. Nic got so hot he stripped down to a shirt, trousers and lifejacket while helming - no sailing jacket: almost unheard of. Lesley meanwhile started with five layers on and went down to two. This is an ideal situation to use our autopilot. Unfortunately, it was playing up and we couldn't figure out why. It wasn't possible to tackle it while we were on the go, with a pressing deadline to round the Bill before the tide swung against us.

So we helmed by hand for much of ten hours. Just as we turned around the Bill for the last leg to Portland Marina, a lovely sailing wind sprang up but it was too damn late. Once in the marina, it was time to get a taxi to Tesco for the last big food shop of the trip. Both of us are really tired tonight. It must be the sudden transition from the soft life on land to the comparative privations of life at sea. But then again, we do love it. 



     

Ditsum to Brixham, and pause

Motored all of 13 miles this morning from Dittisham out through Dartmouth and round Berry Head to Brixham.  Flat calm, searing sun - seriously.  Back on proper mobile broadband, so here's a few Ditsum pics we couldn't load before.

We came to Brixham on the way 'out' and liked it a lot - very sheltered and excellent marina service - so we're leaving her here for a week (ulp) while we go up to the Lakes to spend time with Lesley's sister Mary plus relations & friends.  It's amazingly easy: a bus every 10 mins and takes 20 mins to Paignton then less than 6 hours train to Oxenholme with one change at Brum.

So now we're cleaning - the dinghy, the boat, the bedding, our clothes, and finally ourselves.  Almost a week since we were in a marina and it all gets a bit, well, used.  It's so hot we have to stop for a rest and drink (water :-).  Lesley has gone into town for something and I really hope she gets an ice-cream on the way back.

Greenway Quay (Agatha Christie) opp Dittisham

Prep for dinner

Impossibly pretty Dittisham

The reverse picture to above, that's Sirena IV dead centre

view from Dartmouth out through the estuary entrance

Dittisham view

Dittisham peace

Here we are looking down at the sparkling Dart and moored boats, sky clear blue and the sun gently warm.
This morning we sloped around Agatha Christie's house Greenway, which perches above the river.
Then we walked around Dittisham and up steep hills to the Red Lion pub which is also the shop and post office.
At the next table are a bevy of former Navy officers talking about how they got leave cancelled for leaving out 'crypto' material, and how one of them took out a pair of ladies knickers to blow his nose on parade, after a night 'in bad company'. Hilarious.
Because we're blogging from the pub, with a phone, the photos are sent separately.

Sent from my iPhone

Dittisham on the Dart

We moved up river all of 2 miles, now sitting on a buoy in an impossibly picturesque stretch of river. Pretty little Ditsum (local idiom) one side and Greenway (of Agatha Christie fame) the other. Oh and no mobile broadband so pics will have to wait. Lazing in the sun. New step fender to replace old wooden steps for transfer to dinghy is huge success (until we fall off on way back from pub!).

Sent from Samsung mobile

Darting about

After a bumpy night on Dartmouth's Town Quay, we had to be off before 0845 when the huge tripper boats were due to take our place.

We tried calling two posh marinas on the VHF radio to see if they had room for us. Both were frankly unhelpful. It seems this place is such a honeypot for sailors, and always crowded, they don't have to be polite.

We ended up on a council-run pontoon just across from the river from the splendid Britannia Naval College. The guys who run this 'Dartnav' service were unfailingly friendly and helpful, the opposite of the marina troglodytes. 

We took a water taxi (£2 a trip) into Kingswear, and then a lovely old steam train to Paignton with its golden sands. (Readers of this blog may remember Lesley adores trains.) 

Many passengers elected to stay on the train until it returned to Kingswear and later, we could see why. Paignton is low-rent and depressing, though the staff at the Jade cafe produced a good baked potato in time for us to catch an early train back. 

As we took the water taxi back we noticed a sleek yacht called British Steel - she is the boat Chay Blyth sailed around the world in 1970, and is being restored in Dartmouth.

We also saw the most beautiful old Paddle Steamer, the last coal-fired paddle-steamer in the world. This is a place for seeing fantastic vessels of every sort.

Now we are having a restful evening on the boat. We saw her from the steam train as it passed by and it's a funny thing - your heart goes out to her when you see her from a distance, so familiar are her elegant lines. She is our travelling home, and for now, all our world.