'Apple Charlotte', part 3

City Hall

Monastery

Abbey

Oostkerk



Wednesday, 29th July


This was to be a leisurely day, spent in a wonderful Dutch city with much to offer by way of architecture. The whole feel of the place was different to others I had visited, even Venice with its magnificent buildings like St. Mark’s Basilica and the Rialto Bridge, plus its network of waterways where gondolas glide. Unlike Italy, everyone I spoke with in Holland had a basic knowledge of English, which made communication easy. I believe that’s because all Dutch children during their schooling have to study English. I was of the opinion that citizens of Middelburg were rightly proud of rebuilding their ninth century city after the devastation caused by bombing during the Second World War. Buildings of note were the City Hall, the Monastery, the Abbey and the Oostkerk.


Before we could continue, we first had to buy a ‘Kaart voor zeil-en motorjachten’ to pay for motoring and sailing on the inland waterways. My brother went to the bank to get the necessary cash, while I overhauled the engine, including refitting the silencer and replenishing the gearbox oil. Again, it was a day of sunshine which gave colour to the waterside, where boats were on the move. During the morning, between walking around the city while taking in the sights, tastes and smells, we spent time aboard each other’s boats just chatting and enjoying the company.


Early in the afternoon our flotilla of yachts got under way. We motored northwards along the canal to the pretty town of Veere, arriving there at 1550, where there was a long delay before we could pass through the lock to the Veerse Meer. This is a large man-made lake. At the seaward end there’s an enormous dyke, and in the middle of the lake there’s an island called the Haringvreter where we docked at the North Yacht Harbour. The facilities for yachtsmen were first-class. We could berth at floating pontoons from were we had direct access to grassy areas, complete with discretely camouflage green-painted chemical loos. The centre of the Island was wooded. That evening we had a pleasant get-together sharing food at a barbecue. I found a four leaf clover which I pressed and kept for many years as a memento.


Barbecue


Thursday, 30th July


Sculpture

Dam


Again, the weather was sunny with little wind, but there was enough for a sail around the Veerse Meer, and before lunch we all rafted together by the Dam (Dyke). Taking knapsacks with us we climbed the steps to have a view of the sea and the Lake. At the top of the Dam there was a monstrous piece of sculpture which could not be ignored, but what it represented I could not tell. As we ate our meal, one of our folk had us in fits of laughter. He was surveying the ‘beauties’ lounging on the beach beside the lake, and rather naughtily he proclaimed he wanted a radio-controlled wasp. His sense of humour did not go down at all well with his wife, who didn’t think his request was funny. As it was, they weren’t getting on too well. The cruise was becoming a bit of a hassle for her, and she told her husband she wished she had stayed at home.


Later that afternoon after our sojourn at the Dam, we made sail and headed for Veere Harbour, where we arrived at 1540. My brother and I explored the Town and bought postcards for sending them to relatives and friends. After the evening meal we took another stroll to look at a windmill. Later we joined others of our group at the Yacht Club.

'Apple Charlotte', part 2

'Apple Charlotte' at Middelburg


Monday, 27th July


The early morning forecast was for a north-westerly 3, but with fog patches. No sailor likes fog, and back in 1981we did not have a GPS to guide us. Never mind, we had a sounding lead, a Walker’s log, a DF set, a compass and a chart. We could use our ears and we had a fog horn. Maybe the fog patches would not come our way? The forecast for the north-westerly was ideal; therefore we cast off our mooring lines at 0640, and with the motor running, we made our way to sea by keeping close to the eastern jetty. Our purpose was to make sure we would not be a hazard to any ships entering or leaving the Harbour.


Buoys along that part of the coast were numbered with the prefix ‘E’, and having passed through the narrow entrance of the Harbour we headed for E 1. From there our course ran parallel to a gorgeous sandy beach, and by 0806 ‘Apple Charlotte’ was at E 10, which was northeast of the seaside town of De Panne. The sun was shining and we were making a good speed of 4.5 knots over the ground. Other yachts were following us, including Ken’s ‘Lamorna’ and a large ketch with the name ‘Shanspringer’. In time they gradually overhauled us.


All of this part of the coast was densely populated, and quite a few building were industrial, which to me was not at all appealing. I found it confusing trying to identify spires, towers and other landmarks to ascertain our position by taking bearings of them. However, ‘Apple Charlotte’ was heading to the northeast, and by following the West Diep channel buoys we had a pretty good idea as to where we were.


We easily identified Nieuwpoort when we were due north of the harbour. That was at 1000 hours. A couple of yachts were making their way to sea. An hour-and-a-half later our pretty yacht, with her red ensign flapping in the breeze, was comfortably berthed beside the pontoon of the Royal North Sea Yacht Club at Ostend. I can’t remember much about our short stay there. I certainly didn’t see much of the town. Other Up River Yacht Club yachts had arrived before us; among them were John with his Fairey Atalanta, Dave in ‘Dinky Too’, and Ken on ‘Lamorna’. That evening we gathered at the ‘Mother Ship’, Dave’s spacious home-built Colvic 26, to discuss plans for next day.



Tuesday, 28th July


Yet again, the forecast was for fog patches; maybe this time they would be right?


At 0717, when we were in the offing, half-a-mile from Ostend, there was barely a zephyr from the southwest. An hour-and-a half later we had to refuel the outboard. Our average speed through the water had been 3.7 knots, but with the fumes from the engine filling our lungs and the tedium of motoring, I can’t say the experience was particularly enjoyable. Other Up River yachts were roughly in loose company with us, i.e., we were not close together. The larger ones gradually pulled ahead until they became dots on the horizon, but reassuringly we all were on the same course. From thereon to ensure our engine didn’t run out of petrol we refuelled every hour. At 0930 the jetties of Blankenburge Harbour bore 130 true.


All that morning there was no respite from the hot sun. We kept a vigilant eye open at Zeebrugge where some sort of construction work was being undertaken at the harbour entrance. All in all, we counted twenty ships in this very busy part of the North Sea, and to the north there was a fog bank that we hoped would not drift southwards.


Just as we were about to have lunch, the silencer of the outboard motor came adrift from its support, which at first alarmed us, but apart from the hideous racket, the engine continued working. Navigation was a matter of motoring from one buoy to the next, as we progressed from buoy ‘W 5’ to ‘W 8’ and so on. We could see Flushing (Vlissingen) ahead, but the tide was strongly against us, and even with the motor on full throttle progress was slow. South of the Harbour entrance there’s a two way passage for shipping; we therefore chose a course that would take us close inshore by the port hand buoys to keep us clear of west-going traffic.


It was with some relief that we made it into the precinct by the main locks and entered them at 1435. Unfortunately, we were too late for the lifting of the road bridge, but meanwhile, a cup of tea went down well. Twenty minutes later the bridge was lifted again. Then we made a hash of it, because we were not smart enough off the mark. Our third attempt was successful. However, as we proceeded to the second bridge, the outboard faltered, because we had failed to undo the air vent! We felt like a bunch of amateurs, for sure, but eventually we got the hang of canal cruising and succeeded in negotiating four more bridges before we arrived at the ‘Jachthaven’, which was right in the heart of Middelburg. We finally berthed at the inner Yacht Harbour at 1840.


Fast tides, bridges and the outboard silencer hadn’t been our only problems, because the jet on the cooker needed cleaning before we could make dinner. By nightfall, everything was in its place and we were snugged down for a quiet night, or so we hoped.

‘Apple Charlotte’, part 1

Launching 'Apple Charlotte' at the Up River Yacht Club

I don’t know if you like apple charlotte; well, I truly do. It has a scrumptious, mouth-watering acidic taste, both unforgettable and moreish. In 1981 I acquired yet another boat, a Pandora Mk 1, designed by E. G. Van de Stadt, but she was named, ‘Apple Charlotte’. Now, that’s quite a tasty mouthful when exchanging conversations on the VHF. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Apple Charlotte in position ………. etc.” I never did like that name for a boat, but she was a fine little yacht with a great performance to match. She could point into the wind like a witch on a broomstick and magically leave her competitors trailing in her wake.


In late June and early July, 1981 my brother and I had a fortnight’s holiday together aboard ‘AC’. I had organised a Club cruise to Holland for members of the Up River Yacht Club. Altogether there must have been half-a-dozen of us, each with their respective yachts and crews. We had arranged to meet at the mouth of the River Roach on the evening of Friday, 24th July, but apart from ‘AC’, only one other yacht turned up. This did not perturb us, because all participants were to rendezvous at Ramsgate on Saturday evening.


Well, after a fairly quiet night in the lee, just into the Roach, beyond the Branklet Spit Buoy, we broke out the anchor and cleared it of centuries-old black tenacious mud; the same mud that has preserved parts of HMS Beagle at Paglesham. The stuff is called Roach Sludge and it could be sold by an entrepreneur for a fortune to gullible people in foreign lands who crave for tangible history.


The Shipping Forecast was good, predicting northwest 5, backing west 3 or 4, but with showers. Full sail had us running out to the Ridge Buoy at a rate of knots. We continued to Barrow No. 7 and the Southwest Sunk Beacon for the Edinburgh Channel. When clear of the sands we steered a course to North Foreland, and by 1300 ‘AC’ was about a quarter of a mile east of the distinctive hexagonal lighthouse perched above white cliffs, and by 1325 our boat was moored to a large buoy with other yachts in Ramsgate Harbour. Before nightfall a few Up River Yachts had arrived, including ‘Umande’, a Westerly Centaur owned by Ken Phipps, and ‘Lamorna 11’, a Pegasus 700 owned by Ken Mathias and a Colvic 26 owned by David Ince.


North Foreland Lighthouse


That evening after dinner, we gathered aboard David’s yacht, as she was the most spacious. We speculated what had happened to John and his wife who owned a Fairey Atalanta. There were different opinions as best how to proceed. Some wanted to sail directly to Dunkerque, while others thought it better to stop off at Dover. My brother and I opted for Dunkerque. Gales were forecast for Trafalgar, but that was a long way off, and as the wind was from the west, we cleared Ramsgate Harbour on Sunday morning, 26th July at 0248 to make best use of the tide. Our course took us between the Goodwin Sands and the Kent Coast, so as to arrive at the South Goodwin Lightship on that grey morning at 0550. I didn’t envy the Trinity House personnel who spent their working lives aboard her. Even then, with only a west-by-south wind of force 3, the ship was rolling. On 27th November, 1954, her predecessor broke loose from her mooring during a gale and succumbed to the Sands, with only one man surviving.


From the South Goodwin Lightship we broad-reached to Dunkerque Harbour were we berthed at a pontoon shortly after mid-day. For me it was a thrill to be in this special part of France, because of the sacrifices made there in 1940. Hitler’s army had pinned down an allied invading force, consequently Churchill organised a fleet of privately owned vessels to pluck survivors off the beaches while they were being mercilessly bombed by the Luftwaffe, but for us that gorgeous Sunday afternoon there was no hint of conflict, warfare, tragedy or of death. The sun shone, the gulls mewed and life was very pleasant. My brother even bared his chest, in an effort to get a tan!


Frightening the Natives



Links


Pandora Owners’Association

http://www.pandora.org.uk/


Paglesham Beagle

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/7819991.stm


South Goodwin Lightship Tragedy

http://lightshipfriends.com/SCHIFFE/ENGLAND/lv90/lv90gb.htm

‘Twinstar’

At Boulogne


‘Twinstar’ was a James Wharram 22’ HIna catamaran. She was designed for fast coastal and estuary cruising with a crew of two. The original Bermudan sloop sail plan showed a box mast constructed with plywood supported by an internal framework. After the mast was shattered when I was racing the catamaran, I replaced it with a Bowman kit metal spar. Likewise I exchanged the wooden boom for a metal one. Instead of using lanyards to set up the rig I fitted bottle screws. Back in the 70s James Wharram preferred the use of low-tech materials that could be found locally; this philosophy came about as a result of his study of native Polynesian multihulls. Therefore the wisdom of me ignoring his rigging plan for the Hina was open to question. In 1972 when I owned ‘Twinstar’, I didn’t give it a thought. I believed I was right, and that the boat would perform better, particularly to windward. I had not appreciated the inbuilt flexibility of the original rig.


River Crouch


I was always looking for adventure, therefore I cruised my Hina from Burnham-on-Crouch to Calais and Boulogne. I remember one hair-raising moment when I was rounding Cap Gris Nez. The wind was about force 6, and breaking waves covered the whole boat, including my trusty Seagull outboard motor! I’m convinced the weight of the water trapped on the decks between the raised bulwarks stabilized the vessel, making her less likely to capsize. The fact that she was fully loaded with cruising gear could also have played a part, but the situation was entirely different when I raced her a few weeks later on the River Crouch. I stripped her of unnecessary gear to make her light for the race, but that may have been my undoing, because she turned turtle during a squall. The story is best told by the following excerpt taken from an article written by me for one of the Up River Yacht Club’s quarterly bulletins.


South Goodwin Lightvessel


“Once clear of the Fambridge trots we settled down to what we thought would be a hard beat in a steady force 3, but by the eight knot buoy it all happened. She was on the starboard tack, lee-bowing the fast-flowing ebb, when the fatal coup de grace occurred. A very strong squall hit us fair and square on the beam as the sails were pinned in tightly for windward sailing. We had no time to ease the sheets, and she was over in a flash! Well, in fact the flip took about 2 to 3 seconds.


“I was sat to leeward, so that I was gently tipped into the cold water, but my brother on the windward hull flew over my head and he was unceremoniously thrown into the water. A sense of self-preservation soon had me sat on the upturned hull from where I anxiously scanned the surface for signs of my brother. Moments passed and I was just contemplating diving in to look for him, when he bobbed up, complete with specs in place and his woollen hat perched on the top of his head. Thereupon he started swimming around the boat in an effort to retrieve paddles, hatches, cushions and other bits and pieces that had been jettisoned. I persuaded him that his life was more important than saving flotsam and that he should immediately climb aboard the inverted catamaran.


Benfleet Creek



Well, ‘Twinstar’ was not entirely inverted, because the mast was stuck in mud, so that one hull was raised from the water. Eventually we were rescued by members of the Club who thought it would be a good thing to do. I’m grateful they did, but by that time we were suffering from hypothermia. The following day at high water, with the help of the Fambridge boatman I managed to right the boat. The only damage she had sustained was a nick in the bulwark where a rope sliced into it when the launch hauled her upright.


Of the boats that I’ve owned, ‘Twinstar’ was the only multihull, but I must say I was impressed with her performance when reaching and running. There were times when she would achieve twelve knots on a broad reach. Advantages over a monohull with a deep keel were several: she could sail in shoal water, sail upright, had a very spacious deck and she could take the ground without fear of toppling over. Her disadvantages were: restricted accommodation, lack of headroom, wet in a seaway and her crew was exposed to the elements. Additionally, instead of one hull to maintain, she had two.

'Wanderer'

'Wanderer' after her mast was stepped.

'Wanderer' on the mud at Starcross after antifouling


‘Wanderer’ was a Hillyard 2 ½ ton sloop built in 1934 at the famous Littlehampton yard where hundreds of boats were crafted over the years, even until early in 2009 when fire devastated the building shed. I bought her in early March, 1972 from a boatyard on the Percuil River that flows into the River Fal in Cornwall.


My first task was to step the mast which I did single-handed by using the boom and the whisker pole. I lashed them together to make a temporary crane with the mainsheet and blocks. If you look carefully at the black and white photograph you will see the arrangement still in place after the shrouds had been set up. I was amazed how easy it could be done, but one thing I was not so sure about was servicing the Stuart Turner petrol engine. Really, the procedure was a matter of commonsense, because the engine was not a complicated piece of machinery. If there was a spark when the engine was cranked and the carburettor was clean, all should have worked. Nevertheless, I did have difficulty, because unknown to me, there was dirt in the fuel tank that in time lodged in the carburettor.


After preparing the yacht for a passage to Starcross where I had laid a mooring, I set off on 31st March, 1972. Aboard were two friends, Geoff and Chas. Chas had looked over the boat at my request when I first saw a ‘For Sale’ advertisement giving her details. The weather was bright and the wind was a force 4 from the northwest, which was ideal for an up-Channel sail. Chas had brought his yacht tender with him, so that he could leave ship at St. Mawes. There his wife would meet him with their car. I was glad to have Chas aboard at the outset, because he was an experienced sailor. Geoff had volunteered to be my crew for the entire passage to Starcross.


With the engine puttering along we made sail, but a half a mile from the Yard, the engine failed. Chas took immediate action, and in two jiffs he had the carburettor and the supply pipe cleaned and reassembled. At the first pull of the handle, the engine sprang into life. A half-an-hour later, as planned, Chas climbed into his dinghy and rowed to St. Mawes quay where his wife greeted him.


At 1350 St. Anthony’s Lighthouse was abeam to port, about three cables. We estimated ‘Wanderer’s’ speed at 4 knots, and set the yacht on a heading of 098 degrees. By 1600 the impressive Dodman Point was due north. Three-and-a-half hours later, with the wind and tide helping us along, our observed position placed us one-and-a-half miles southwest of the Eddystone Lighthouse. Altogether we had sailed a distance of twenty-nine miles from St. Anthony’s Point, at an average speed of just over 4.8 knots.


Unaccountably at that time, I lost the logbook, and the remainder of the account was written from memory on the 2nd April, 1972.


As the night wore on, the wind speed increased to force 6 and visibility on account of fog decreased to 400 yards. This was verified by the inshore shipping forecast. We twice reefed the mainsail, until handing it completely; then we exchanged the working jib for the storm jib. While reefing the mainsail I lost the topping lift and because I had not tied a figure of eight knot in the tail of the main halyard I temporarily let it fly in the wind. By bringing the boat head to wind, even with the storm jib set, I was able to grab the tail of the halyard. All this was done in darkness on the deck while our ship was tossed by the waves. Rain didn’t help. We were utterly miserable and a little apprehensive. We took turns at helming the boat for one hour at time. We fed ourselves by munching raisins and nuts and drinking hot soup.


From our portable radio we heard the tragic news of a Belgium trawler that had gone aground off Bolt Head! (We had no VHF radio.) ‘Wanderer’ would have been two or three miles to the south when the grounding happened, but we saw no lights or distress signals. Later that night I took three consecutive DF bearings of Start Point which confirmed we were making slow progress to the south of it. Morning sunrise revealed that ‘Wanderer’ had been pushed by the ebb tide to the southeast of our intended track. By then the seas were more manageable, and as we ate Weetabix for breakfast, a large, three-mast schooner overhauled us.


The wind remained from the southwest, but lessened until it was about force 2. Life was uncomfortable because of the lumpy sea, so there was only one thing for it: make full sail! We broad-reached past the entrance to the Dart and the craggy Mewstone; then we continued around Berry Head into Torbay. There the wind veered to the north. All the tossing and turning of the boat during the gale had churned up rubbish in the fuel tank, so that the engine failed to start. Geoff copied Chas’s example by clearing the fuel pipe, but instead of blowing through it with his mouth he made use of the inflatable dinghy’s foot pump to force air through.


Early evening saw us struggling against the ebb as we followed the channel into the River Exe. The sandy beach of Exmouth seafront was to our starboard hand, and to port were the Pole Sands, but with the engine faltering we had our doubts that we would make it. However, Lady Luck was on our side, because we were able to grab a vacant mooring south of Exmouth Dock. There we took a rest while we prepared and ate dinner. Again the fuel pipe needed attention, before we could proceed to ‘Wanderer’s’ mooring which was not far from the ferry jetty at Starcross. Until the very end, the recalcitrant engine played tricks with us.


After picking up the mooring, we were too exhausted to tidy the boat. We just secured the sails, locked the cabin, inflated the dinghy and rowed ashore for phoning Geoff’s wife. We asked her to collect us in her car. When she arrived, I felt sorry for her, because we looked like tramps and smelt like skunks! But ‘Wanderer’ was mine, on my own mooring, and I was truly grateful to Geoff and his wife for their help.


P.S. I forgot to mention that during the night, the pushpit had been bent by the force of a wave as it crashed into the windbreak, at the same time tearing the canvas. I guess the wind had reached force 8 at the height of the gale.



Notes


Statistics


LOA 5.57 m

Beam 1.92 m

Draught 1.09 m

Keel Cast Iron

Engine Stuart Turner Petrol 4.5 HP

Hull Carvel Pine

‘Speedwell’

Her Rig

Slightly different view

Winter 1985 at Brighton



In 1985 and 1986 I worked as the skipper aboard the ‘Speedwell’ under the employ of the Discovery Dockland Trust. She was based at Brighton on loan to the Trust. My brief was to supervise the fitting out of the vessel, with much of the work being undertaken by people who had been unemployed for more than two years. This was a government sponsored scheme inspired by Margaret Thatcher. I was required to instruct up to thirty people the basics set out in the RYA Competent Crew syllabus and provide them with practical experience at sea. Those who had already obtained RYA qualifications and were able to study for the Yachtmaster Certificate were given instruction to that level. In addition to the above, I was responsible for providing on the water experience to students from educational establishments, including supervised individuals from youth custody centres, loosely termed Borstals. Altogether it was a tall order, but a challenge I relished. I will point out that of the photographs published here none contain images of youngsters from youth custody centres.


'Larvik'


The Discovery Dockland Trust had on loan several other vessels, but the partner ship to ‘Speedwell’ at Brighton was the Colin Archer, double-ender, the ‘Larvik’. She was a fine sturdy gaff ketch, but she could not match ‘Speedwell’ for performance on and off the wind. Sometimes both vessels would sail in company perhaps from Brighton to Gosport or from Brighton to Fecamp. In the summer of 1986 they sailed in company to the Channel Islands where they rendezvoused with other Trust vessels; two of them were ex- Motor Fishing Vessels. When the yachts were not on long haul trips, they were often used for day sailing. There was a rule that if winds were stronger than force 6, vessels were required to remain in port. On those occasions, extra tuition and maintenance activities took place. I was proud of my team of thirty people who eventually gelled as a team with a matching spirit of cooperation. They were a group of very different individuals from diverse backgrounds, having certain abilities, skills and temperaments.

Stepping the mizzen mast

Test Sail (1)


Test Sail (2)


Hanking the Staysail



Notes


‘Speedwell’s’ Statistics


Originally she was an East Coast Oyster Smack, built by William King and Sons at Burnham-on-Crouch in 1901. She was first registered as CK 314 by Smith Brothers of Burnham, but for much of her working life her home port was Whitstable. I believe her present home port is Shoreham.


LOA 49.97 feet

Beam 13.18 feet

Draught 6.0 feet

Rig Originally a gaff cutter with smack configuration, but converted to
gaff ketch.

Engine In 1986 her old 18 HP Dan Marine paraffin engine was replaced with a Gardners diesel.

Tonnage 45 (Displacement)


Web Site


National Historic Ships

http://www.nationalhistoricships.org.uk/ships_register.php?action=ship&id=661

'Pinto's' Summer Cruise, part 9

Sunday, 10th August


After our exploits of yesterday we were not in a hurry to rise, but when we did, our priority was to sort out the interior of the boat, because it had become very wet and soggy. We didn’t finish breakfast until 1050, and by the time we were ready to get underway it was 1115. Constant drizzle didn’t inspire us, and the light wind was hardly helpful, except it was coming from the west. A submarine was at anchor in the Roads, which caused us to remember that we should keep a lookout when passing through submarine exercise areas. As usual, we threw fishing lines over the stern, and we were not surprised to catch a large Pollock and a mackerel in the vicinity of the Spanish Ledge Buoy. With the spinnaker drawing, ‘Pinto’ was able to make over the tide, and at 1230 we set the log at zero as we took our departure from Peninnis Head. Our heading was 100 degrees true. The sea was smooth, and two other yachts were leaving the Islands at the same time. Thankfully, the drizzle had stopped. An hour later when we were having lunch, (bread with lashings of jam, marmalade and honey) we noted that the log showed a reading of 4 nautical miles.


Over the next few hours we clocked a fairly constant speed of 4 knots which brought us close to the Wolf Rock Lighthouse at 1750. We had no idea where the other yachts had gone, because each had headed off in different directions after leaving the Scillies. Our progress was good, so that by 2120 the Lizard Lighthouse bore 150 degrees, about half-a-mile away. Half-an-hour later in the gloom of dusk, we were met by a flotilla of racing yachts sailing to the southwest; their crews were sat along the side decks. We could only think they were Fastnet Racers.


Monday, 11th August


In the early hours of the morning our speed through the water was a measly 1.8 knots, and having rounded the Lizard we could not make sense of the various lights. At 0400 we changed the spinnaker for the Genoa, but before doing so I had to climb the mast to retrieve a plastic chafing tube that had jammed between the top of the stay and the head of the mast. The time for climbing the mast was opportunistic, because there was little motion on account of the smooth sea and hardly any wind. The anti-chafing tube should have been at the bottom of the forestay to minimize chafing of the spinnaker. The tube had been split from top to bottom so that it could be threaded onto the forestay. Normally this anti-chafing device was effective.


Because we could not establish the yacht’s position with reliability we hove to until daylight. When we were satisfied as to where we were, we set sail for Falmouth. As was our custom, fishing lines dangled over the stern and mackerel were being taken in by hooks baited with silver foil from the tops of milk bottles. (Yes, there were glass milk bottles in 1975) We caught several fish with a view to giving them to mutual friends who lived near Falmouth. Reaching northwards past the Manacles Rocks was a satisfying experience, because we were on the homeward passage. In a couple of days, if the wind played ball, ‘Pinto’ would be back on her mooring at Starcross. Altogether our little ship had sailed sixty-eight nautical miles since leaving the Scillies.

Restrongate Creek


Falmouth Harbour is one of the finest natural harbours for deep-sea vessels in the world. Pendennis Castle, high on a mount to port, marks the western side of the entrance and St. Anthony’s Lighthouse pinpoints the eastern side. From between the two, a course due north will take you past Falmouth Docks on your left and the pretty village of St. Mawes to your right. Next there’s Mylor Creek to port and St. Just-in-Roseland to starboard. Our destination was a little further north, on our port hand: Restrongate Creek, which has a very narrow entrance. Much of the Creek dries out at low water to reveal acres of soggy mud. Our friends have a bungalow at Devoran, which is almost at the head of the Creek. At the time of our arrival the wind was light and fluky which made picking up a mooring a little tricky. Having succeeded we relaxed while taking a late morning coffee before inflating the dinghy to row ashore. There were no mobile phones in 1975, and the only way of contacting our friends was to walk to the nearest red phone box. To our surprise we realised we were still dressed in our oilskins, although the sun was shining! We had been so preoccupied with working the boat that we had not noticed our discomfort because of the heat.


It was no wonder that we were invited to have baths before dining with our friends! I guess we stank. I must say, the menu did not include mackerel! So as not to get stuck in Restrongate Creek we returned to the boat and made sail at 2020. The wind soon died, but not before we managed to grab No. 3 mooring buoy before it petered out. The buoy was meant for large seagoing vessels and it was totally out of scale for ‘Pinto’. Why we did not think of anchoring I cannot imagine. That night our yacht repeatedly bumped against the unforgiving object, which prevented us from having proper sleep. I confess to being a little lazy by not helping out in trying to place fenders during the early hours to minimize damage to ‘Pinto’.


Tuesday, 12th August

'Dyarchy'

St. Anthony's Lighthouse


There was reluctance on our part as we made sail at 0725, because the dank mist was very uninviting and we were zonked by the lack of sleep during the night. We could hear the siren of St. Anthony’s Lighthouse and expected there would be poor visibility at sea. Our lack of enthusiasm was more evident when fine rain started to fall. However, there was a good force 3 from the southeast which meant we would be able to set up the self-steering system and retire below. The person on watch would be able to take a peek out of the hatch now and again to make sure there were no fishing floats around or other hazards. We made our departure from St. Anthony’s Head at 0900 and set the log to zero. We were privileged to see ‘Dyarchy’ at close quarters as she entered Falmouth Roads. She was an early twentieth century yacht that had been styled on the lines of a Bristol Channel pilot cutter. Roger Pinckney commissioned Jack Laurent Giles to design her as a private yacht. She was built in 1939 by Swedish boat builders.
While I took the first watch, Geoff snugged down in his sleeping bag. Between taking peeks out of the hatch I read the ‘Yachting Monthly’. By 1430 ‘Pinto’ was prancing along like a true thoroughbred. She was south of the Eddystone Lighthouse and may have believed she was passing the winning post, but there were a good many miles to go before we would tie up to our Starcross mooring.


One of the attractions of being at sea is coming into contact with those who make their living from it. I always admire fishermen who spend their working lives seeking a harvest. They put their lives at risk for the sake of their families. A more dangerous occupation is hard to imagine. Stormy weather and the hazards of their work cause many to lose their lives. Yachtsmen have a choice - they can choose whether to go to sea, but fishermen must earn a living. Therefore I was intrigued to watch at fairly close quarters fishermen working on their small trawler. They had hauled in their net and were in the process of gutting their catch while hundreds of gulls scavenged from offal being thrown into the sea. The scene had all the ingredients of a fine oil painting as interpreted by a talented artist; there were the variegated colours of sea and sky contrasting with the trawler’s black, salt-stained hull. As she moved through translucent green water, a curling white wave from her bow was flung outwards; sun glinted off yellow oilskins, black puffs of smoke trailed from her exhaust and her tanned mizzen bobbed at her stern.


We missed the evening Shipping Forecast and when we checked the log at 1800 we discovered it was not rotating. The spinner was embalmed in weed. An hour later, the wind was so light that ‘Pinto’ almost came to a standstill, but she just managed to maintain steerageway. However, from 2200 the flood tide assisted us in the direction of Salcombe.


Wednesday, 13th August.


You’ll note that it was our practice to keep pressing on throughout the night, rather than putting into port, but that night we made little progress. We should have been content with anchoring in shallow water.

Mewstone


Early in the morning we couldn’t resist trying our luck at fishing again. We just couldn’t get enough mackerel to satisfy our appetites! I lost count of how many we had caught while on our cruise, but within twenty minutes we caught another four, which was all we could eat. Dartmouth Day Mark was shrouded in mist, but the land below was quite visible. At 0715 ‘Pinto’ could just hold her own against the ebb that was running around the Mewstone.

Berry Head

Exmouth Seafront


Two hours later as we approached Berry Head the sun shone brightly. There was so little wind that it took us all afternoon to creep across Torbay, but from there on, the wind freshened from astern and the spinnaker effortlessly hauled us to the Exe Bell Buoy. The reach along Exmouth seafront against the ebb was just doable. As an incentive to get the best out of the boat we joined in an impromptu race with another yacht. Eventually, her skipper had enough, turned on his engine, downed sail and kindly offered us a tow, but our stupid pride prevented us from accepting. On the other hand, maybe we hadn’t been proud; perhaps we just wanted to complete the cruise under sail? Whatever the reason, we knew we had enjoyed a wonderful holiday, and after picking up ‘Pinto’s’ mooring at Starcross we grinned at each other with satisfaction.


Bill Serjeant

August, 1975

'Pinto's' Summer Cruise, part 8

The Islands of Baltimore

Thursday, 7th August


We were getting into bad habits by having breakfast at 0830 instead of 0630, but wasn’t it nice to relax and enjoy our sojourn in this beautiful place? The barometer was a steady 30 inches, characteristic of this cruise. As we were about to make sail for an exploration of the numerous islands we noticed there was water in the bilge. An inspection revealed a hairline crack of about two feet, along the starboard chine in the forepeak. Undoubtedly the fracture had occurred on Wednesday when the boat crash-landed in a trough between two waves. It took us until mid-afternoon to stop the leak by sealing it with a lath nailed over a length of canvass covered with Mastic. We first had to obtain the materials from Baltimore, as our bosun’s kit had not contained them.

Map of Sherkin Island


Abbey Ruins at Sherkin Island



To test the repair we went for a sail around the islands and creeks of Baltimore Bay. Mackerel were in abundance, but we only caught sufficient for our needs, before anchoring at Abbey Strand at Sherkin Island. We had a stimulating walk for the entire length of the island from north to south. First we trekked to the Dock in the north and retraced our steps before continuing to Sherkin Point in the south. We saw breathtaking views of bays, headlands, islets and far-off mountains. There were derelict crofts, cows, a donkey and the Abbey ruins, and of course there was an abundance of all kinds of plants and fauna. We sensed a spiritual, mystical atmosphere that seemed to take us back in time to the fifteenth century, when the Franciscan monks who built the Abbey sought peace and communion with God in that remote island far from a troubled and fallen world.

We didn’t get back to the boat until 2145, after a full day of activity.


Friday, 8th August


Although the barometer remained high, we sensed a change was taking place with the weather, as the wind veered from north to east-northeast. The Shipping Forecast predicted variable winds of force 1 to 3. At 0805 we sailed close to the Loo Buoy at the entrance of Baltimore Bay. An hour later we were able to set the spinnaker while sailing on a course of 138 degrees. The wind freshened from the southwest, but we could still keep the spinnaker drawing until 1800 when the halyard parted. Our average speed since leaving Baltimore had been 5 knots and we were 30 miles offshore. We set the small jib and Geoff prepared two mackerel we had caught as we left Abbey Strand. We saw a yacht about two miles ahead which seemed to be on the same course as ‘Pinto’, but within an hour we could no longer see her. At 2100 there was a rather fiery sunset which spoke of wet and windy weather to come. By 2200 the wind had veered so as to come from northwest, which was ideal for sailing to the Scillies, but constant attention was required by the helmsman to prevent the ship from gybing.



Saturday, 9th August


In the early hours of the morning we had an anxious time while trying to avoid three fishing vessels. Wherever we went they would pursue us! We lost a bit of time zigging about in an effort to avoid them. However, they remained with us until daybreak. During the dark hours, the phosphorescent wave crests had been a help when steering because our compass light remained out of action. For the first time in days, the morning was grey and cold, while a layer of cloud covered the sky. As time wore on, our spirits flagged - no doubt because of tiredness, constant movement and the unaccustomed lack of sunshine. Geoff’s self-steering system could not cope with the quartering seas. At 1510 a DF bearing of Round Island confirmed we were on course, and the log reading indicated we had sailed 118 nautical miles since leaving Baltimore.


Our hearts leaped for joy when we sighted the Bishop Rock Lighthouse at 1625. Our mood was transformed in an instant. The force 5 wind was coming from the northwest. Therefore it was prudent to maintain a course well away from the Islands before sailing down their eastern fringes. Meanwhile the clouds had separated into thunderous dark waterfalls cascading across the sky. We had lacked confidence to enter the archipelago between Bryher and Tresco. Discretion was called for because error could have proved fatal. In the lee, on the eastern side of St Mary’s, we expected the wind to ease, but on the contrary it seemed to increase, which caused us to have a hard beat towards Watermill Cove where we hoped to anchor. On our arrival there we saw that the anchorage was open to a swell from the north east. I have subsequently learned through experience that his phenomenon occurs because waves from the northwest somehow spiral around the Islands until they come from the northeast. Just when things were difficult enough, heavy rain bucketed down from a thunderous dark cloud. The wind gusted so that we had rather too much sail, causing the lee gunwale to dip under the water.

Scilly Isles Map


We had not learned from our previous visit that we should anchor at Porthcressa, rather than Hugh Town when the wind is from the northwest. After a hard beat through St Mary’s Sound we arrived in the dark at the Hugh Town anchorage. As a precaution we prepared the bower anchor for letting go at a moment’s notice in case the kedge anchor dragged. Needless-to-say the boat rolled and pitched, as she was tossed by the waves and blown by the wind. The time was 2200. We were very wet and tired, so that all we could do before turning in was to make an omelette and be grateful that we had no longer to remain alert at the helm. We took turns to keep anchor watch throughout the night.

'Pinto's' Summer Cruise, part 7

Baltimore Slipway

Wednesday, 6th August


We slept well, perhaps too well, because we did not wake up in time for the early morning Shipping Forecast, but we were in time to enjoy a superb sunrise. After breakfast we sailed from our secluded anchorage to Glandore to buy milk, bacon, porridge, crisps and chocolate.


By the time we had packed the dinghy away and prepared the boat for sailing it was mid-morning. A force 3 to 4 south-westerly was funnelling into the creek, which gave us an exciting beat out to sea. When we were clear of the land, we found that the wind was coming from where we wanted to go, i.e., Baltimore. At 1153 we were two cables south of Adam Island and set the log at zero. The sky was almost cloudless and the colours were vibrant. We could have sailed well offshore before tacking, but we chose to short-tack along the coast to enjoy the fantastic cliff and island scenery.


About an hour after leaving Adam Island, High Island bore 315 degrees and ahead was a cluster of pointed rocks known as the Stags. As on Tuesday, ‘Pinto’ leaped off the wave tops, but this time she didn’t land on the crests of oncoming waves, instead she repeatedly crashed into the troughs. We were going too fast, but we couldn’t resist the excitement as spray flew over the boat, and now and again waves slooshed over the cabin. At 1423 I made a note in the log that we had sailed ten miles, and as I did so, a huge curler came right over the boat, and a fair amount of water ended up in the cabin. There was an ominous thud before the deluge when the boat landed in a trough between waves after being airborne. A check around the interior didn’t give any indication of damage, but we shortened sail to reduce speed and sponged out the unwanted water. An hour later, when we were south of Kedge Island, we changed course for Sherkin Island which we left to port. Not quite able to goose wing the sails, we exuberantly hared into Baltimore Bay rather too fast for sensible pilotage, arriving at the Cove where we anchored in time for late afternoon tea.


Baltimore, the Cove

Lot's Wife, the Beacon


We quickly pumped up the dinghy and rowed to the slipway for exploring the immediate area and to shop for items we had forgotten at Glandore. Baltimore was truly pretty. After shopping we walked to ‘Lot’s Wife’, more properly named the Beacon, a Day Mark to aid navigation. There we sampled magnificent views over Sherkin Island and Clear Island. On our return to the boat we were invited aboard a miniaturised homebuilt Sparkman and Stephen Saggita, ‘Glory Bee’. Her owner had made a really good job of her using the strip-plank method. We shared an evening meal with him and talked about boats and the sea until midnight. Needless to say, we had had a spanking day.

'Pinto's' Summer Cruise, part 6

Old Head of Kinsale


Tuesday, 5th August


Unknown to me this would be an outstanding day that would for ever remain in the hard drive of my memory. We made a leisurely departure from Kinsale while proudly flying a brand-new Red Ensign at the stern. Geoff had bought it at the chandler’s the day before. In the offing, while heading for the tip of the Old Head of Kinsale, we nearly sailed into drift nets, which were only visible by the presence of small cork floats indicating the top of the nets. I’m sure ‘Pinto’ would have been snarled in them, had we not been warned by an anxious fisherman who came at speed in his boat to make us aware of the danger. White fluffy clouds from the southwest skipped across the sky as the yacht made good speed to windward. Bright sunshine accentuated the red and white lighthouse making it stand out against the grassy green slopes above grey granite cliffs below. Crested waves foamed around their spray-soaked base and the invigorating wind-blown tangy smell of the sea heightened our senses.


Galley Head


South of the Old Head of Kinsale ‘Pinto’ true to her name leaped for joy from one wave to the next. Short-tacking, she powered her way to windward at an incredible speed. She was really overpowered, but we were enjoying the fun, and didn’t want to take the wind out of her sails by reefing down. We believed she could manage the motion for as long as we could hold on. A larger yacht was at our heels, but try as she may, she could not overtake. By 1640 we were south of Galley Head, having sailed twenty-four miles by the log, while on the wind, in four-hours-and-forty minutes. That was one of the most exhilarating sails of my life, particularly as the cliff scenery, when passing Seven Heads, was breathtakingly beautiful. You need only glance at Google Earth to see how green the Emerald Isle is, and you’ll know what I mean. Focus-in on the amazing patchwork quilt of fields to see how industrious the Irish farmers are.


Glandore


Glandore, looking out to Adam Island



From Galley Head we altered course for Glandore, but an unexpected sea mist soon shrouded Adam Island which marked the entrance to the creek. The wind backed to the south and increased to force 6. An hour later, visibility improved and we found ourselves abreast of Adam Island where we headed northeast and ran goose-winged helter-skelter towards the pretty village of Glandore. There the wind petered out, leaving us anchored in a peaceful haven surrounded by a tranquil landscape of curvaceous wooded hills. A more idyllic setting we could not have desired. Half-an-hour later a classic ‘Tamarisk’ yacht joined us at anchor. She had been the vessel in pursuit when were south of the Old Head of Kinsale. Busy as ever, Geoff, put a patch on the floor of the Avon dinghy as I cooked the evening meal. It had been a most satisfying day.

'Pinto's' Summer Cruise, part 5

Roche Point Lighthouse


Sunday, 3rd August


At 0830 we let go the visitor’s mooring at Crosshaven Yacht Club. There was the faintest easterly wind - just enough for steerageway. We took the last of ebb and drifted towards the entrance of the River. We could hear Roche Lighthouse sounding and guessed there could be fog at sea. Progress was so slow that we took two-hours-and-a-half to arrive at a point near the lighthouse where we anchored for lunch. The fact that we did not have an engine was a blessing; otherwise we would have been tempted to suffer its raucous sound and breathe in copious gaseous fumes. Having accepted the loss of the engine, our attitude to the cruise was simply to relax and let the wind dictate where we would go. In fact, there was no alternative, except to buy a new outboard motor.

Map showing Oysterhaven


While I prepared a mid-day snack, Geoff set about devising an improved self-steering system that entailed using the storm jib, plus a couple of blocks and a spare sheet. As we took in the beauty of the scenery and ate our lunch a school of small porpoises entertained us by frolicking around the boat. A light breeze sprang up, prompting us to sail out to sea for testing the new self-steering system. The crews of the racing fleet, including those aboard a flotilla of Cork One Design yachts, were enjoying themselves. We hoisted our spinnaker and more than held our own with the best of them while trolling for mackerel. Altogether we caught two mackerel and one Pollock before handing the lines. As we did so, a shark broke surface and made a close pass under the stern of the boat.


Looking down on Oysterhaven


There’s nothing quite like the smell of fresh mackerel sizzling in a frying pan to whet the appetite, and less than an hour after we caught them, their succulent flesh was falling apart in our mouths. Hours later, we slowly sailed by the entrance of Oysterhaven Creek and continued towards the Bandon Estuary where we anchored at 2020 in three fathoms, south of Charles Fort. It was truly a picturesque and romantic setting that spoke of troubled times in the seventeenth century when the fort was built. At that time there was conflict between James the Second and William of Orange. I’m not conversant with the history, but the star-shaped fort could house a whole garrison with their weapons of war and provisions for withstanding a siege. The magnificent stone fortification had a commanding position overlooking the River towards the less imposing James’s Fort on the other side. Vessels of invading forces trying to gain access to the anchorage at Kinsale would have been vulnerable to attack from those occupying the forts.

Charles Fort Anchorage

Another view of Charles Fort



Monday, 4th August


Kinsale as seen from Charles Fort



Uncharacteristically, we woke up late at 0830, but there was no hurry, as we were on a leisurely cruise. We discovered it was a Bank Holiday, and at Kinsale it was Regatta Day.

The crew gutting mackerel


By mid-day the sky had brightened sufficiently to encourage three lasses to brave the cold water for a swim from a nearby beach. Their shrieks, laughter and antics entertained us for a short while, and when the show was over, Geoff occupied himself by trying to improve his Mark 11 self-steering system. Having played with it to his satisfaction, he suggested we should go for a test sail to find out if it would work. We could also do a spot of mackerel fishing, just as we had done the day before. Well, the modified Mark 11 performed to Geoff’s expectations, but more importantly, we were highly successful at fishing. Pleased with our test sail and the abundant catch we returned to the River Bandon, but instead of anchoring at Fort Charles we continued to the anchorage at Kinsale. Without ado, we inflated the dinghy and rowed ashore to partake of the festivities. Rubbing shoulders with excited spectators we watched the final stages of the Regatta and treated ourselves to locally-made ice creams. Before returning to ‘Pinto’ we did a little shopping and enjoyed an exhibition of amateur paintings and ceramics.

'Pinto's' Summer Cruise, part 4

'Pinto's' Track



St Mary's seen from the air


Friday, 1st August


We woke up to find a misty morning, but by 0830 when we weighed anchor, visibility had improved. There was more than enough water to cross the Bar. With the outboard running we had ample opportunity to take in the beauty of our surroundings. We left the saddle-like, uninhabited Island of Samson to port and followed a passage marked by beacons northwards towards Bryher and afterwards on a transit to Hangman’s Island. The little village of New Grimsby, complete with a quay and sandy beach was left to starboard. The water was crystal clear so that we could see where the rocks were and judge the depth. A gentle wind from the north funnelled between Bryher and Tresco. With the engine still running we hoisted sail as we passed Cromwell’s Castle on our starboard hand.


Round Island


When we were in open water we discovered that the wind was a north-easterly, force 2. Taking our departure from a point due west of Round Island and north of Bryher, we reset the log to zero. The time was 0945 and our course was 334 degrees compass. By 1230 we had sailed 11 miles, giving us an average speed of 4 knots. A reciprocal bearing with the DF to Round Island confirmed we were on course. Geoff rigged the boat to self-steer by setting up a sheet-to-tiller system. ‘Pinto’ kept a pretty good course. At 1800 we sighted a ship fine on the starboard bow and by then the wind had increased to a force 5 from the northeast. The ride was quite lively and after our evening meal I noticed that the Seagull outboard was no longer on the transom! The securing pin had somehow jumped out. I felt somewhat guilty, because I was on watch and I had not made sure the engine was tied to the boat. Geoff took the news stoically.


Shortly before nightfall we fortified ourselves with a ‘MainCourse’ soup, i.e, a broth with chunks of beef and vegetables in it. The boat happily continued sailing herself to windward, but the steering compass light failed, which meant we had to use a torch to check our heading.



Saturday, 2nd August.


It was one of those magical nights. Our ship sped along at around 5 knots, and towards the eastern horizon a sickle moon floated on a diamond ocean. Breathtaking phosphorescent waves, one after another, marched in rhythmic unison as a mighty army with glinting swords and shields of silver. The fire and drama of the night was awesome.


To spoil the dream, a ship was sighted shortly before sunrise, but then we were greeted with a ball of golden light which heralded a clear cloudless day. At 0905 the cry went out, “Land Ho!” Over a period of twenty-four hours we had covered 112 miles – not bad for a 21’ boat.



Cobh Waterfront

Cobh Cathedral

At 1140 we entered Cork Harbour where little boats tacked to and fro and a great passenger ferry made out to sea. An hour later we picked up a visitor’s buoy at the Royal Cork Yacht Club where we were given full use of the Club’s facilities. Later that day we bussed into the bustling City, but how stifling hot it was, and how claustrophobic the streets were by comparison with being on the open water.