Month: April 2017

Wednesday 5 April

As promised, Philippe returned to the marina this morning, accompanied by the handsome Antonio, who heads up the welding team, to agree with Skipper exactly what work needed to be done to make good the damage to my anchor roller and bow. My crew then pedalled to Carrefour for non-perishables, like a bottle or three of Mate’s favourite apéritif (am I really supposed to believe one is for her mother?!), before stowing the bikes in the granny bars at the foot of my mast, and motoring around the corner to the tech dock ready for the lift.

After leaving the bikes on the pontoon, Skipper steered me neatly into the slings of the crane and the PNA guys slowly lifted me clear of the water and onto the waiting Allures trailer. Meanwhile the crew were ferried back to the pontoon to follow me like outriders the half mile across the industrial estate into the yard, where I was ably manoeuvred into a very tight space by the multi-talented Pierre-Julien (who last September rigged my new gennaker and staysail). He and a colleague wedged me securely onto purpose-built blocks before sliding the trailer out from underneath, while my crew quickly packed bags for their sleepover.

They left me in the company of my sisters overnight, while they found supper at the pizzeria on the old quay – crêpes with lovely local cider, apparently.

Tuesday 4 April

Philippe’s quote was around €4000 for repairs and the haul out to the yard, which the nice insurance people are happy to cover in full. Arrangements are in place for the crane to lift me out from the technical dock tomorrow afternoon; I’ll be put on the truck and towed to the factory for the work to be done where I was built, and I should be back in the water on Friday afternoon. Mate decided against trying to live aboard while I’m on land, as there will be no access to facilities when the factory is closed overnight, and has treated my crew to two nights on land in the Hotel Chantereyne at the marina. They unpacked Daisy and her brother onto the pontoon, ready to transport them all over town, and Mate took a bag of washing to the launderette.

Monday 3 April

Ever helpful Philippe was on the marina first thing on Monday morning to assess the damage and decide the appropriate course of action. Quickly realising that a big ‘ammer was not the solution, he went away to make arrangements with one of the welding team and the crane operators, as well as preparing a quotation of costs for our insurers.

Back at the Capitainerie, Mate organised an appointment, in French, on the phone, to see a local doctor the same afternoon (not like in the UK), about a suspected infection in her knee. The diagnosis and prescribed antibiotics resulted in a bill of nearly €100 (also unlike the UK!) My crew recovered from the shock with afternoon tea and pastries, a beer for Skipper, in the sunshine on the old quay at the Port de l’Epi, before coming home for supper onboard.

Sunday 2 April

Mate stood a long watch, in the middle of which she was startled by a flashing light ahead that she hadn’t noticed previously. She realised that Jeanny’s track was not allowing for the tide pushing me too far South, and too near the Casquets rocks that lie just Northwest of Alderney, so she made some adjustments and kept a more alert eye on my progress. She was spooked by a vessel appearing on AIS that we seemed to run over, eventually deciding it was our own signal, that is not supposed to show on the chart plotter screen. Needless to say, this caused great hilarity for Skipper when he took handover at 0500.

Mate stayed on deck to watch the cycle complete, from sunset through moonset in a beautiful orange, like a softer sunset, around 0100, to daybreak, an almost imperceptible lightening of the sky, and dawn, before sunrise. By 0615 she couldn’t stay awake any longer, and was suffering stage one hypothermia, in spite of a warming ginger tea thoughtfully provided by Skipper. She shivered, fully dressed and tucked into a winter duvet and blanket, for quite a while until finally falling asleep. Skipper allowed her to sleep until we were a couple of miles from the entrance to Cherbourg’s Grande Rade, the outside harbour, and we enjoyed a lovely last stretch of sailing along the French coast.

Inside the huge fortified walls it was very calm and sheltered, so the sails were dropped and furled, and lines and fenders prepared for my docking. Skipper manoeuvred me neatly into the last Allures berth on the H pontoon of Chantereyne marina, and my crew did ‘happy hour’ to tidy me up before they slotted back into a domestic routine. Later they were surprised to discover that the Capitainerie (harbour office) was closed, as they were still on winter operating hours until Easter. Just as well I have such a lovely shower onboard.

Saturday 1 April

So, the promised easy overnight passage of 60M to make landfall on the Isles of Scilly in daylight didn’t materialise. Instead we departed the lovely Helford river at 0815, and once clear of the channel, Mate set a course of 100˚ ESE for an estimated 30 hours at sea to cover 150M to Cherbourg. Conditions were calm at first, so Trevver ran for the first few hours, meaning Jeanny could join him and keep me on course with minimum intervention from my crew. In spite of the forecast, when the wind did fill in it was right behind me, which isn’t my favourite point of sail, but Skipper hauled up my mainsail with a first reef and preventer. He tried the staysail too, but the main blanketed it and it soon got rolled back in. Mate spotted a shower sneaking up behind us, thanks to the giveaway rainbow, and the crew got big coats on just in time to avoid a soaking.

The wind increased a little further, all the way to a F4, building a swell, so I was surfing down 3-metre rollers, sailing properly now with the staysail reset. The crew soon settled into a fairly regular watch pattern, ensuring they both rested below while off duty. We enjoyed several dolphin shows, the best being during one of the Mate’s watches, when a family of four entertained her for an hour and a quarter. The largest, nicknamed ‘Dad’, would roll onto his side parallel with my hull, as if mirroring my silver flank, and look at us; ‘Mum’ and the ‘little girl’ would swim together under the bow, as if Mum was teaching her how to play safely with yachts, while ‘bigger brother’ played dare by darting towards, then away from us over and over again. Once he rode the crest of a long roller just in front of us, jumping three times as the wave broke. Magical and humbling.

A quarter moon had risen well before a beautiful sunset heralded a stunning starry canopy overnight.