Next stop Scotland

Tuesday 20 June

Keen to be away North, Skipper made a temporary repair to the ‘Up’ button on the windlass, seemingly involving copious quantities of most unflattering black gaffer tape all over my lovely white bow deck. The crew observed the gradual change in the cliff faces from granite to sandstone, and Point of Ayr lighthouse was soon off our port beam. The contrary wind meant a fair time motorsailing to help me punch through the line of breaking waves and keep as close to our preferred course as possible. In the end we made good time to arrive in Portpatrick on the Southern tip of Western Scotland, to be welcomed by Robert, ex-lifeboat coxswain and friendly volunteer harbourmaster. Space was limited along the harbour wall, so he helped us raft to a lovely old wooden ex-lifeboat, but my crew still had to negotiate a tricky scramble up the ladder to the quayside. When we were able to take a space alongside the wall later, it was in the rather too close company of nesting pigeons and starlings, to which my decks only too soon testified.

A new crew recruit?

Monday 19 June

Mate’s friend arrived at the appointed time, but my crew were a bit laid back this morning and were glad of extra hands to prepare me for sea. It was another hot and windless day, so we employed Trevver to run us across a glassy calm Northwards for Ramsey Bay. We briefly spotted a pair of dolphins, and Mate produced a hearty salad from the galley by way of lunch en route.

Just as they were discussing which mooring buoy they were going to pick up, the wind suddenly developed, so we turned back out to sea and allowed the new crew member a taste of sailing a kite; that is to say Skipper unfurled my beautiful big red gennaker, and Mate gave advice in steering to keep her filled. Typically the wind continued to build and was soon 18 knots, so the sail was furled away as quickly as possible and we headed back into the mooring field alongside the old pier.

For some reason I couldn’t quite follow, mooring here involved a new technique of lifting my 35kg Spade anchor up onto the foredeck, apparently so it didn’t chafe, or even cut through, the lines attaching me to the mooring buoy. Murphy was obviously having a fine old time of it that afternoon, as that was the moment the ‘up’ button on the windlass decided it wasn’t going to work, and my (regular) crew had to haul the anchor manually.

Next it was time to wiggle the tender out of the sail locker onto the foredeck (avoiding the anchor), pump her up and fit the outboard engine, so our guest could be returned to land to make his way home. Everybody donned wet weather gear and clambered inelegantly into a bucking, bouncing dinghy for a wet and bumpy half hour ride deep into Ramsey harbour. Right by the bridge they tied up to a ladder rising straight up the stone quay wall, and clambered cumbersomely up to street level. Skipper, as ever, aware of the tide times for heading back out of the harbour, decreed there was not time for a last meal together, so final goodbyes were said and my crew made their way back. Inevitably conditions were by now much calmer, but we still endured a rolly night.

Happy Father’s Day

Sunday 18 June

The warm sunshine continued, and my crew enjoyed a quiet morning and a leisurely Sunday stroll around the harbour to a delicious al fresco lunch at the Little Fish Café. They both tucked in happily to house fries accompanying a local speciality, queenie po’boys: brioche sub rolls filled with avocado, salad and little queen scallops (without corals) lightly fried in a tempura-style batter – mmmm. These were washed down with excellent homemade lemonade, one with crushed raspberries and one with charcoal, sweetened with a little dark muscovado sugar.

Later in the afternoon Mate’s friend returned, with a couple she’s met before, who are narrowboaters and were keen to check out a proper boat (!) Unfortunately something got lost in translation, as Mate had made the invite for afternoon tea, which ‘down South’ means a cup of, with maybe a cake or cookies, and ‘up North’ tea is apparently the evening meal, because ‘dinner’ is ‘lunch’…if you’re still with me? Anyway, she was so embarrassed when she eventually realised why the extra guests had arrived with two bottles of wine, that an urgent Interflora delivery was organised the following morning, by way of an apology.

Sunshine and siesta

Saturday 17 June

Lovely Second Mate woke us all up with a telephone call at the ridiculously early hour of 0800 this morning – as if she’s ever usually surfaced by such a silly o’clock. Mate was happy to arrange a lift to the supermarket with her friend who lives on the Island – the main reason for coming here is for him to meet and admire me – of course. Meanwhile, Skipper took advantage of the peace and quiet to catch up on some of last night’s missed sleep, except he was constantly thwarted in this quest by interruptions from other boats around us.
Mate and her friend disappeared again after a late lunch, for a brief tour of the island and to recce somewhere suitable for a celebratory supper. Seemed a bit rude, to go out without me, when it was I that got them here in the first place…

Isle of Man at last

Friday 16 June

After a better night’s sleep and with an obvious reduction in wind speed, we made a smooth departure at around 0930 and were soon tackling the navigation around the huge expanse of wind farms between us and the Isle of Man. Ben my Chree, the Manx ferry, passed us three times in the course of our passage, and must have wondered if we were ever going to arrive at the Island. Having eventually cleared the turbines, we found ourselves approaching gas platforms, and a guard vessel shadowed me for ages before finally calling my crew on the radio to check our intentions (!)
We finally arrived into Douglas Bay a little after midnight, where the friendly Harbour Control greeted us with a cheerful “Good Morning” and cleared us into Battery Pier. Unfortunately it’s not very long, and was already in use, so I had to be rafted. They were just putting me to bed when a local racing fleet began to arrive, and they were busy and noisy until around 0300, waiting for enough rise of tide to be able to go into Douglas Harbour. After a late supper, or was it early breakfast? my tired crew eventually fell into bed around dawn.

False start

Thursday 15 June

The wind had blown up again during the night, so nobody slept much and we made a very early start. Unfortunately it was very lumpy with wind over tide, and progress was painfully slow. The crew tried hoisting the mainsail before setting off, but the gusts made control very difficult, and it was a battle to release the mooring lines. Mate decided she was not going to survive a long passage in these conditions, and we aborted and returned to the relative sanctuary of Piel Island.

Piel Island

Wednesday 14 June

Inevitably, the weather went from the ridiculous to the sublime. We left Fleetwood on the afternoon High Water to take advantage of the ‘free flow’ through the swing bridges and lock gates that form the approach to the former fish dock. Out in Morecambe Bay the sea was glassy smooth and registering 18.5˚C, but Mate was discouraged from swimming by the sight of considerable numbers of huge jellyfish floating by in the current.

They took me up a long channel on the way to Barrow-in-Furness, in which I was regularly tossed around by powerful seacats churning their way home at the end of a day out in the wind farm fields. On the way we passed a huge seal colony before pulling into moorings in the lee of Piel Castle, their first stop in their former yacht, Meridian, which they picked up in Glasson Dock. It was a very still, calm evening, spoiled only by the small motor boats charging around enjoying the fine weather.

The waiting game

Sunday 11 -Tuesday 13 June

Sunday swept in on a strong southerly wind, so my crew decided to blow the cobwebs away with a bracing stroll along Fleetwood’s shoreline, enjoying the information boards along the way, that describe aspects of local history. Monday and Tuesday were spent waiting for the weather to improve enough for us to go back out onto the Irish Sea; meanwhile Skipper finished installing the fuel polisher and tested it, they did some provisioning at a local fish supplier and the big Asda supermarket just up the road, and Mate caught up with some blogging with a coffee in the sunshine in the Freeport shopping mall.

On my own again

Thursday 8 – Saturday 10 June

This morning the people disappeared off again, for another weekend away in Brussels: not for fun, you understand, but to attend a funeral. They met up with Mate’s mother and Second Mate’s brother in London, and travelled on Eurostar together. They stayed overnight with Second Mate on the way home, and Mate was delighted to have an unexpected opportunity to meet up with a very good friend for coffee and a chat.

They came home tired and emotional, not surprisingly, glad for some peace and quiet and a good night’s sleep.

Taking in the local scenery

Wednesday 7 June

They left me in the smelly fish dock to ride the bus all the way down the coast to Lytham, a pleasant town with attractive shops, a disused but well-preserved windmill and old Lifeboat station. Skipper took the opportunity to visit a local barber (originally from South London), and they treated themselves to lunch at the excellent Lytham Kitchen at 9 Market Square. Mate was particularly impressed at their choices for and understanding of gluten free and vegetarian diets.
It turned out to be a day of contrasts: Lytham is quite posh, with many nice people around, but then my crew decided to ride the tram all the way back up Blackpool Promenade…and found their fellow passengers a different sector of the population entirely…
When they came home Skipper performed a ritual cleansing – of me, before refilling my water tanks.