Month: April 2018

Friday 20 April

Yet another beautiful sunny day saw my crew off on a trip inland to visit Lűbeck, the ancient capital of the Hanseatic League. [Wikipedia has a fascinating explanation of this mediaeval empire of trade and politics, that extended from the Eastern Baltic through Northern Europe to the East of England.] They got chatting to a lovely lady who was obviously proud of her city, and saved them a trip to the Tourist Information Shop by explaining the ‘must see’ attractions of this pretty town on the river.

After a picnic lunch they followed her advice and visited the cool painted interior of the Marienkirche, a huge brick-built Gothic church. It was completely destroyed during the night before Palm Sunday in 1942, in retaliation for the bombing of Coventry Cathedral, and, like much of the city, has been painstakingly reconstructed. Two huge bells lie twisted and crumpled where they fell at the foot of the South Spire, a poignant reminder of the pain and futility of war. A large organ clings to the wall beside the West window, almost the only stained glass in the building, and the furniture is a curious juxtaposition of traditional and very modern, especially in the mix of choir stalls in a side chapel and the chancel.  There is also an intriguing astronomical clock.

Glad to return to the warm sunshine, my crew wandered an area of streets laid to a grid pattern, among which narrow alleyways lead to courtyards containing tiny mews houses. Their ‘guide’ had explained that migrant workers flooded into Lűbeck during its heyday, and accommodation soon became scarce, so these dwellings were erected anywhere space could be squeezed. It was a privilege to discover these charming hidden cottages.

Thursday 19 April

A beautiful dawn at 0530, followed by early morning mist that soon burned off to leave another glassy calm sea. Off we motored once again, until the wind filled in enough for a lovely run under my beautiful red gennaker, straight through a German warship’s manoeuvres area, slowly drawing ever closer to the huge tower block at the head of Traveműnde harbour. The pilot says it’s easy to spot the entrance, because the tower can be seen from miles out to sea, and in the event of poor visibility, follow one of the many ferries or freight vessels. Our experience was that most of the big ships’ movements occur through the night…

With welcome help from a very patient neighbouring German sailor, we found a comfortable berth in a large enough box in the Fischereihaven, which proved a pleasant and interesting compromise between an anchorage and a characterless, expensive marina. Another lady harbourmaster welcomed us with all the necessary information, before we found the German equivalent of a Friday fish’n’chips supper on the warm, sunny quayside. Our last errand of the day was a brief and unfulfilling visit to the very local REWE supermarket.

Wednesday 18 April

It seems the weather gods must have trainees on the job – after the first hour’s glorious sailing yesterday morning, the rest of the day was a long slog with Trevver maintaining his record of diesel consumption, and then there was enough wind overnight to keep the windgen whining and disturb Mate’s beauty sleep.

Today’s big question is: to bridge, or not to bridge? The bridge in question spans Fehmarnsund, and has a recorded air draught of 22-23 metres, depending on which source you’re referring to. All include caveats about strong currents of up to four knots, direction dependent on which way strong winds have been blowing recently (if at all), and varying height of water according to any number of factors. All very complicated, and as my mast soars to somewhere around 21 metres, and Skipper tends to pass under bridges of 40 metres’ clearance with his eyes shut, Mate took the prudent decision to go around Fehmarn Island instead. During the resultant 35 miles’ passage, Skipper then explained several reasons why he’d thought we’d be fine to take the shortcut…ah well, peace, harmony and concord…?

So we completed another circumnavigation, clockwise around Fehmarn Island. The first two legs were pretty perfect on comfortable reaches, then the wind dropped and backed as we eased right for the third time, punctuated briefly by an amazing 7.5 knots under full main and gennaker, until the wind disappeared suddenly and completely. Once again, we completed the passage under the iron sail, and found our way into a lovely anchorage from an entrance channel reminiscent of Bembridge on the Isle of Wight. The day ended on a beautiful sunset, and we were about three miles from where we’d begun the morning.

Tuesday 17 April

It’s almost as if the weather gods have waited for us finally to reach the Baltic Sea before flicking the switch to ‘Summer’: suddenly the skies are blue, the sun is shining and the temperature is rising, along with the barometer.

We slipped out of Dűsternbrook with a lot less drama than we arrived, and enjoyed a lovely sail North up the Förde. This is a little like the Solent: a main shipping channel, and shores lined with nautical industry and fringed with woodland behind beautiful sandy beaches.

TRIVIA CORNER

Kiel Week in June is Germany’s answer to Cowes week, a huge sailing festival of which racing is only a part. Kiel is known as Germany’s Sailing City, as the sailing events for the Olympics of both 1936 and 1972 were competed here.

The 1936 Olympics, held in Berlin, were nicknamed the Nazi Olympics, and were opened by Adolf Hitler. They were the first to be televised, and apart from an undercurrent of anti-Semitism and the threat of boycott, are probably most ‘famous’ for the until then unprecedented success of black American Jesse Owens, who won four gold medals on the athletics field. Great Britain were tenth in the medals table, winning a total of 14: four Gold, seven Silver and three Bronze. Of these, one Gold and one Bronze were in sailing events, for which we were second only to the host nation.

The 1972 Munich Olympics were overshadowed by the massacre by Black September Palestinian terrorists. In the sailing events, GB came equal second with France, winning one Gold and one Silver.

Trevver was able to maintain his record of diesel consumption, as we motored the 41M to the recommended ‘Ankerplatz’ off Fehmarn Island across a sea mostly resembling liquid glass. To relieve the monotony, there were several sightings of small numbers of harbour porpoise, and an interesting channel to follow around the end of the sandspit into the anchorage, beneath the watchful eye of the red brick lighthouse. A flock of swans was settling for the night in the bay around us.

Monday 16 April

After a misty start, the promised forecast of warm sunshine finally broke through this morning, and Skipper got busy washing my decks and filling my water tanks. Mate enjoyed a luxury shower (ie she washed her hair), before removing the evidence by giving the heads (bathroom) a thorough clean.

After a late lunch, the crew prepared for a shopping trip into town, but the heavens opened for a real April shower, so they postponed the foray in favour of a long chat with Second Mate’s brother. Inevitably, by the time they had strolled along the quay and found the supermarket, it was closing time, so they enjoyed the sunset as they made their way home emptyhanded. Oh well, my galley stores are always full for such emergencies.

Sunday 15 April

It was at least a peaceful night, and we made a prompt departure into a soft, misty morning, to find the canal once again busy with freight. In the open sea, yachts have to keep well clear of these beasts, which is fine for us, as close up they are enormous and quite intimidating. My crew were glad to be here before the season, when the canal is probably much busier with leisure craft – who don’t always have the desired experience, or skills in boat handling. At least the big ships maintain a steady speed, much slower than they can achieve at sea, and actually create very little wash. We saw fuel tankers, container ships, tugs and dredging vessels, one warship, river cruise ships and cargo barges, as well as one or two yachts and motorboats.

As we reached the end of the canal, we had to tie up to the ‘payment pontoon’ that has been installed since one poor yachtsman died, having fallen off the ladder he was expected to scale up the lock wall to reach the lockkeeper’s office to pay his dues. Having clarified the confusing translation on the screen, our plastic was hit with another €35 and after lunch we called the lockkeeper and waited a few minutes for the signal, while a tug manoeuvred a huge container ship into one side of the lock we were to share. We slipped in behind a small motorboat, and once again Skipper heroically saved Mate from further damage to the ankle by jumping a long way down onto a slightly less slippery but this time lumpy yacht pontoon, to fend off until we were released. Curiously, the locks at both ends seem mainly about keeping the water in the canal, as there is no discernable rise or fall of water level once inside.

Having completed our transit safely, we couldn’t help a feeling of relief that that should be the end of canalling for a while, and we may even hoist a sail again soon. For today, we simply turned South, out into the Kieler Förde (Kiel Fjord), and soon entered Harbour #4 at Dűsternbrook, just North of Kiel city centre. This marina is specifically organised for large yachts, and the box we chose proved to be much longer than we’d anticipated, so a fraught few moments ensued while Skipper added a further length of rope to the line he’d secured onto the port stern post…as we drifted past it and some ten metres further in to the quay wall, where Mate stepped off my dolphin to tie my bow onto the strong metal cleats provided. My near neighbour was a huge racing yacht called Calypso, and she was joined by a second, brand new racing yacht with a bright green hull, on which there was much activity by the commissioning crew.

Saturday 14 April

Visibility was still poor, but Skipper checked with the canal authorities, who confirmed that yachts were safe to enter the canal, so we slipped out of our berth, under his skilful hands, into a tricky crosswind now coming from the Northwest. Once out into the Elbe channel, wind and tide were with us, and we flew down to Brunsbűttel Locks, through eddies and whirlpools here and there, occasionally exceeding nine knots. Mate had readied lines and fenders, and the lovely lockkeeper didn’t keep us waiting: the white light was flashing to call us straight in to an enormous sea lock, all on our own.

Once inside it was quite sheltered, but Skipper still had to jump off onto a bouncy, slippery pontoon right on the water surface, to ensure my fenders stayed between me and the curved edge of the pontoon. These are a challenge for leisure boaters, as they are designed to fit underneath the edges of the huge commercial vessels that are the primary users of this waterway, which was originally built to enable German warships to gain access to the North Sea without having to round Denmark from the Baltic Sea coast, where their primary base was at Kiel.

At least 100 metres wide for its entire length of almost 100 kilometres, the Nordostsee Kanal is by far the largest, and busiest, I have yet travelled (did somebody mention a European Panama?) It is crossed by eight bridges, each rising to 40 metres, several sets of high voltage electricity cables strung between towering pylons, and dozens of small vehicle ferries, whose masters seem to love to play chicken with unwary yachties, waiting until one is almost crossing their path before suddenly leaving to charge across to the opposite bank – with a cheery wave to the sweating helmsman.

Most of the first day’s 50 miles was tree-lined on both sides, rendering no view even without the persistent murky drizzle. It was also cold, so my crew alternated half-hour watches, frequently retreating to the saloon to warm up and dry off.

Late in the afternoon we were finally caught up by an unusual yacht, familiar from my time at the Southampton Boat Show, where the boat next to me was a trimaran called a Dragonfly. They are aptly named, even under power, as this one was skimming along with only a 15hp outboard engine on the transom.

We spent the night in the Obereidersee, a lake off the main thoroughfare that boasts several boatyards. In torrential rain, we found probably the scruffiest, displaying a bold sign stating “Gäste Wilkommen”, tied up to a high but seriously dilapidated pontoon, with wobbly wooden cleats and sections of planking held together only by splinters, for which we were charged €15. This worked out at €1 per hour per metre (boat length), for no facilities, no power and no water – apart from that falling freely from above.

Tuesday 10 – Friday 13 April

Petra the harbourmaster welcomed us warmly and proved a mine of useful information. Her beautiful English put our poor and patchy German to shame, as she explained where in town we’d find provisioning and points of interest, how to handle the Kiel Canal and where to fuel. As an experienced solo sailor herself, she understands exactly what we needed to know, and was happy to share all manner of advice and suggestions.

The facilities at the marina are really good: sparkling clean, warm and well fitted out. Laundry is reasonably priced in the ubiquitous and very efficient Miele machines, trolleys are available and wifi and recycling are offered. It is a pleasant 10-15 minute walk into town, where there is a selection of supermarkets, and a large number of restaurants and cafés.

MATE RATES

For a wide selection of fruit and vegetables, and a lovely Turkish delicatessen, head for Anka on Nordersteinstraße, the main pedestrianised shopping street that runs South from Kaemmererplatz. Anka is just beyond the post office, on the junction with Segelckestraße.

We enjoyed a good lunch at Zum Park on Sűdersteinstraße: generous portions of Balkan-inspired dishes, after an ‘on the house’ appetiser of homemade soup – delicious.

We had a couple of rather bouncy nights in a cold Easterly wind, and feel we may have fared better if we’d tucked further into the marina, to tie up alongside the pontoon that lies inside the Ro-Ro ferry terminal. Meanwhile, Skipper cleaned my topsides thoroughly ie with a sponge and soapy water, as well as a hose – I felt like I was having a spa experience. He didn’t get as far as the polish and wax stage, but there’s always another day… Mate’s still nursing a sore ankle, and took only occasional walks along the rather bouncy pontoon, but they did manage a second shopping trip on Friday morning, from which they returned too late to depart for the canal. There’s always another day… and anyway, sailors are a superstitious lot, and never start a voyage on a Friday, let alone a Friday 13th.

Monday 9 April

Having dropped a couple of possible overnights off the schedule, we had left ourselves a relatively easy last leg of this stage of our delivery cruise, but it still turned out to be an eventful day. First the mist dropped suddenly just as we were preparing to weigh the anchor and depart, so we followed our inward track back out with the help of the chart plotter and radar.

For a while, foghorns could be heard from the commercial vessels in the nearby shipping lanes, but to Mate’s great relief, it lifted as quickly as it had come in, opening her circle of visibility from a couple of boat-lengths to several miles. Before long, today’s passenger arrived in the shape of a slightly bedraggled pied wagtail. This visitor wasn’t as impressed by my ambience, and soon disappeared again.

Even in the mist there was a good breeze, so Skipper had set full main and genoa, and I was enjoying reaching at six knots and more. After a while, Mate decided I was heeling too much, and requested a sail change down to the staysail, which provided no less speed but a much more comfortable ride. The wind increased and our relative angle altered as we changed course to follow the shoreline, and Mate called for second reef, by now feeling less than happy, cold and wet from a couple of full-face ‘greenies’. [An observer may have said her face was that colour by now anyway.] Typically, no sooner had Skipper sweated to bring the mainsail under control than the wind dropped right away, and I was down to four knots with over 20 Miles still ahead of me. Obligingly, he shook the reef back out and I went back to full main and around five knots, a more respectable speed and less unpleasant motion.

The sun tried valiantly to shine all day, but with little success and no noticeable warmth. As we began to pick out the line of towers marking the edge of drying sandbanks, outside the main shipping channel into the River Elbe that leads to Hamburg, we slid carefully over a very shallow patch before slotting neatly between probably the busiest shipping route I’ve ever been near, and beaches of basking seals.

Inbound fishing vessels were trailing their prawning nets across each side deck like ballgown drapes, and a small convoy of yachts accompanied us towards Cuxhaven Yacht Club marina. Clear yellow signage allocates berths according to boat length, with red/green cards on the pontoon at the head of each berth indicating availability. Power is available from the tower labelled for your berth number, and water hoses are plentiful.

Sunday 8 April

A beautiful orange sunrise heralded an early start, to make the most of the day to gain some miles Eastward. Plans were fluid, as the crew decided to see where we could get to, knowing of a couple of possible stopping places en route. It turned out to be a good strategy, as in spite of little wind, we made good progress along the seaward shores of the island chain. For some considerable time we offered rest and refuge for a willow warbler, in between forays to catch insects low over the calm water.

After a long day in the office, we arrived at our furthest planned harbour on Wangerooge, the Easternmost island of the string, and dropped anchor under the red beam of the lighthouse. It wasn’t the calmest night, once the wind changed direction to dance with the tide; there’s no doubt we’re back at sea.