Salcombe to Fishguard

After a month in St. Helier Marina on Jersey, we got up bright and early on May Day morning and finished preparing the boat for an overnight sail across the English Channel to Salcombe. We would be "buddy sailing" with another Garcia Exploration 45, "Snow Gum", crewed by an Australian couple, Carolyn and Rick. We crossed the sill at St. Helier just before 9AM and headed out into the Channel, with Snow Gum close behind.

If you look at a chart, it seems as if you could just take a straight line from the western edge of Jersey (off La Corbière) to Salcombe and sail right across. The reality is quite different. There are strong tidal currents to contend with, as well as (obviously) the ever-changing winds (or, often, lack thereof...), rocks to be avoided, and shipping lanes (technically "traffic separation schemes") to be crossed (by law) at right angles. So our path to Salcombe is pretty wonky.

We were both on deck for most of the day, and around sunset I went below for a nap, leaving Katy on watch. We swapped places at midnight, just as we were about to pass the southwestern end of the traffic separation scheme. 

There was a lot of traffic, almost all of it much bigger than Idril - tankers, container ships, ferries, and fishing vessels. Our AIS provides us with excellent information on the ships around us, but we still have to keep a careful watch visually and via RADAR. Some ships (notably military vessels) do not broadcast their locations via AIS, and fishing boats have been known to turn off AIS if they have found a particularly fruitful spot. Nonetheless, AIS is a huge help. We've found that giant ships will happily alter course a degree or so to avoid us - as long as we give them enough advance warning. A typical VHF radio exchange might go something like this:

"Big Ship, Big Ship, Big Ship [using their name, of course], this is sailing vessel Idril, sailing vessel Idril, on channel one six, good evening, over."

"Idril, this is Big Ship. Over."

"Big Ship, Idril. It looks like we will be close to you in about a half hour. What is your intention? Over."

"Idril, Big Ship, we see you on AIS and will alter course 2 degrees to [port/starboard] to pass [in front of/behind] you. Over"

"Big Ship, Idril, thank you very much, have a pleasant watch. Idril out."

I got Katy up around daybreak (early at this latitude...) and we shared the cockpit for the rest of the trip, with me dozing a bit. We arrived at the entrance to the Salcombe estuary around 9AM, and were tied up on the visitor pontoon by 11. Snow Gum arrived shortly thereafter.

The next 3 days were filled with very satisfying walks around the Salcombe coastline: to the north, the south, and inland to the sheep meadows above the visitor pontoon.

 

We also had fun walking around town.

 On Thursday, May 6th we left Salcombe at first light (5:30am) and sailed to Mylor Yacht Harbor in Falmouth -- a place we know very well from the month we spent there last summer, having our electrical system tweaked. This gave us a chance to do laundry, re-provision and finally get our bikes shipped off to Gocycle for service. Once we had a decent weather window, we took a short hop on Tuesday, May 11th from Mylor to a mooring in the Helford River -- also familiar from last summer -- before taking off two days later, on the 13th, for the Isles of Scilly.

We had some excitement on the way to the Scillys -- our gennaker halyard failed. The halyard is the line that we use to hoist the top end of the gennaker, our primary light-air sail, to the top of the mast. The line has two parts -- a very strong inner core, and an abrasion-resistant outer braided sheath. The sheath failed, apparently at the point where it was gripped by the clutch on the mast, and the inner core slipped down inside the sheath.  This allowed the top of the sail to drop about 3 meters or so, bringing the bottom edge of the sail dangerously close to the water. We were zipping along at a good clip past Lizard Point, the southernmost spot in "mainland" England, with somewhat rough seas. Had the sail really dug in to the water, we would have damaged at least the sail.

Luckily, Katy reacted immediately, unfurling the solent (another of our foresails), stealing the wind from the gennaker and easing the pressure on the line. We were then able to safely lower the gennaker and lash it to the lifelines on the port side of the boat. In the rough seas and stress, I (Jerry) got increasingly nauseous, and eventually blew my breakfast all over the port side deck. Yech.

 We later discovered that a photographer on Lizard Point had captured the boat  moments after the failure, just as we had gotten the solent unfurled.

The beginning of the recovery operation

The gennaker lashed to the port lifeline

 We arrived at The Cove, a quiet (and familiar) anchorage off St. Agnes in the Isles of Scilly in the late afternoon. We got the gennaker properly stowed, cleaned up the side deck, and turned in early. 

 

Arriving at The Cove

The next morning we got up early and went for a walk on St. Agnes, including a stop at Troytown Farm for a breakfast of ice cream, and a visit from a very insistent bird.

Then -- back to the boat, and a shift to New Grimsby Harbour, between the islands of Tresco and Bryher. 

Passing "the cow", north of St. Agnes

We were waiting for good winds for the next leg, to Milford Haven in Wales. We spent the days walking mostly-familiar coastal paths on Bryher, re-visiting Tresco Abbey Garden, and resting up for the 118 nautical miles to Milford Haven.

We left New Grimsby in the late afternoon on May 19th, in stronger-than-expected winds and chop. Katy took the first night watch at 11pm, while I snoozed until 3am and we swapped roles. Around 5:30, shortly after sunrise, I realized that the boat was surrounded by dolphins. Magical! Click for video.

The wind was unfortunately fading as the sun rose, and we wound up motoring much of the rest of the way to Milford Haven, arriving midday.

 

A friend has called Milford Haven "the Detroit of Wales"; it is a pretty industrial port, with a major LNG terminal and plenty of commercial shipping traffic. But we did get in one nice walk.

But once we got another weather window, we were eager to press on, and on May 22nd we left Milford Haven at the 9am lock opening and headed for Fishguard, through the first two of a series of somewhat tricky passages -- Jack Sound and Ramsey Sound.

The blue line is our track

As we move north into the Irish Sea we will increasingly encounter very strong tidal currents, as water is shoved north and south between Ireland and Wales. Katy is now putting significant time and energy into making sure that we arrive at key choke points near slack tide and with favorable winds. Jerry, on the other hand, is a slacker.

Hard at work in the cockpit

 We anchored in Fishguard for 2 nights, with one brief trip into the town. It was a lovely place to be anchored, well protected and surrounded by modest cliffs.

Most signage is now in Welsh, with English second

We left Fishguard just before sunrise on Monday, May 24th, and sailed to a Marina in Pwllheli, our next staging point. I'll write about that, and our further progress to Porth Dinllaen and Caernarfon, in another post.