Category: Uncategorized

Thursday 13 June

We made the most of the afternoon opening of the lock to indulge in a lazy morning, offsetting this with a long walk to find supermarket shopping on the opposite side of town.  The road was being rebuilt, and was recently tarmacked and still sticky, edged with unmade pavement of loose hardcore, dotted with pallets of paving slabs completely obstructing the way.  Failing to find the expected Intermarché, Mate was pleasantly surprised by a clean, well-stocked and cheap Netto, and backpacks were soon laden with lovely fresh produce and the makings of the next few suppers.

As it was now lunchtime, a classic French crêpe was sought, but we were too late, and fell back on the bar at the marina, which we had been assured (by marina staff) offered very good food.  Delighted to report – they are right!  Skipper enjoyed a delicious beef casserole with figs and Roquefort sauce, while Mate tucked into a fabulous deep filled tarte of layers of courgette, tomato and feta.  Needless to say, these were washed down with samples of local microbrewery ale, Coreff, and Breton cider.

Being nearest the lock, with the top gates conveniently left open, we slipped in after a pretty local traditional gaffer, with plenty of time to sort ourselves out for the high tide opening.  This would give us maximum water to wind our way back down channel to Skipper’s assessment of a “sheltered anchorage, free of swell” just South of Roscoff marina, which was full of yachts for the Figaro event.  This is one of the big French races, where solo sailors compete in a one design race without assistance, over four timed legs.  This year the route covered 1500-2000 Miles in around twelve days, between Nantes, Kinsale, Baie de Morlaix and Dieppe.  We were close enough to the marina to see hundreds of flags and banners dancing in the evening breeze, and hear faint music from the onshore celebrations.

Thursday 6 – Wednesday 12 June

Paimpol – Morlaix

Following the local knowledge of our Saltimbanques friends, we slipped easily through the ‘free flow’ lock out of the lovely city of Paimpol, to explore the stunning scenery of the Ferlas channel and Ile de Bréhat.  Basking in bright sunshine, the ‘granit rose’ pinkish sandstone rocks were bathed in a deep blue sea reflecting a clear sky – very Baltic, except for the current carrying us along at 3-4 knots.  As we came out into the almost Atlantic swell, interspersed with areas of rips and eddies caused by shallow patches on the seabed, we turned into a cold breeze almost on the nose, that was too light to sail without Trevver’s help.

A couple of hours later we were at the entrance to the long, wide estuary of the River Jaudy that leads eventually to Tréguier.  As with much of this coastline, the area is a rich producer of oysters and mussels, and fish farms are also in evidence.  Fortunately we’d dropped and stowed the mainsail just in time, for, just like two days earlier as we made the final approach to Paimpol, the weather gods had other ideas and a big black cloud of squally wind and hailstone force rain swept across us, rendering forward visibility almost nil.  Slaloming between fishing pot marks, once again the last hour was the worst, but eventually we made it upriver as far as the red No 10 buoy, recommended as a sheltered anchorage on the bend beneath the chateau.

The fun wasn’t over yet, though: as we went through the process of setting the anchor, the outgoing tide drifted us back over the trip line, and the prop’s rope cutter did a neat job of separating 15 metres of rope from the bright orange anchor float buoy, depositing the former seven metres down on the riverbed, and leaving the latter to drift off serenely downstream.  As we were unhappy that the anchor was properly dug in anyway, we decided to execute a quick man overboard procedure to retrieve the buoy, resign ourselves to the need (excuse?) for another visit to a local ‘shipchandler’, and make a second, successful, attempt at pinning ourselves to the spot.

We’d chosen this anchorage as a peaceful and sheltered spot to sit out the latest bout of strong winds, and we stayed onboard during Friday while they blew themselves out across the top of the valley above us.  As usual, our strong and silent crewmember, our trusty Spade 30kg anchor, held us securely to the same spot on the riverbed.

Saturday was much calmer, and we extracted our pretty new tender, l’arrêt, from her quarters in the sail locker, pumped her up good and plump, and swung her over the side to the boarding point at the stern.  The new engine, barely used since purchase in Guernsey in the autumn of 2017, performed below par as we headed upstream to explore ashore, but we got there safely, and tucked in amongst a fleet of Boréal yachts, another aluminium hull brand we’d briefly considered before opting for Allures.  Tréguier is their home port, and we took the opportunity to have a good look at the similarities and differences.  Needless to say, we still wouldn’t swap our beautiful l’Escale for anything else.

We spent a pleasant hour strolling around this attractive small town, admiring the mediæval buildings in the main square, and the cavernous interior of the Gothic cathedral of St Yves, whose bells played a different tune every quarter hour.  Its steeple features fretwork to allow wind to flow through. Back near the marina, we browsed the temptations in the EcoCoop, stocking up on a few organic essentials for the next few days.

After an unrestful night, we set off for Trébeurden, in disappointingly light winds that necessitated motorsailing the whole passage.  We wove our way among the pink granite rocks and white sandy bays of tiny islets, before lining up for the narrow gap to cross the sill into the marina.  Suddenly we were basking in t-shirts and shorts in complete shelter, but it didn’t last long and was windy and wet (again) overnight and into Tuesday morning, such that we decided to forgo market day.  As the afternoon dried up a little – only intermittent showers – we strolled up the hill, chatting with our English neighbours from nicknack, to find the essentials in a more civilised Intermarché than that in Paimpol.

On Sunday we waited for the tide to take us back down to the sea, and onward 15M to Port Blanc, where we picked up a visitor’s buoy, but no fees, and enjoyed the local dinghies and catamarans out racing.  As expected, it was not the calmest of berths, with a little swell causing rolling, whilst heavy rain beat a tattoo on the cabin roof.

Wednesday was a very early start, away at first light to clear the sill before the tide dropped below it, and a challenging crosswind added extra challenge to our departure.  In the competent and calm hands of Skipper we managed not to hit anything or pick up any new dings and scratches, but it wasn’t to be one of our better days.  Mate eventually got all the fenders stowed, and we were able to set the mainsail with first reef, but the sea was very rolly and unpleasant.  Jimmy Bucket was called into service even before 0800, but things settled a little when we changed course and sail plan, to just the staysail.

Just before 1000 we dropped anchor amongst the oyster beds in the estuary approaching Morlaix, to await sufficient rise of tide to attempt the narrow and shallow channel up to the lock in the town centre.  There was just time for breakfast before we enjoyed a gentle potter under genoa almost to the lock, which was open waiting for us to motor straight in. We were met by friendly, helpful harbour staff, who took our lines up the wall and handed over a welcome pack.  Once we had risen the metre or so to the level of the basin, they walked us to our berth on the quay wall, under the looming shadow of the huge double-decker viaduct that dominates the town centre.

Tuesday 4 – Wednesday 5 June

On Tuesday morning we again waited for the tide, leaving late morning under full main and genoa in the direction of Paimpol.  We passed the iconic Cap Fréhel lighthouse, well, both of them, with Mate enjoying fond memories of childhood family holidays on this coastline.  In the usual mix of showers and drier patches, we changed from genoa to staysail in anticipation of a squall darkening the sky ahead, but it passed out to sea in front of us and, that time, we stayed dry.  As elsewhere, we played dodgems with fishing vessels and ‘Spot the Pots’ to avoid picking up lobster or crab on our rudders.

The final hour, heading up the massively drying channel into Paimpol with the incoming tide, the wind built to an intense F5-6, right on the nose, and in the end we gave up trying to hold our line and turned back to sea, and improved sea room, until the wind eased and there was a better margin of water under our keel.  It was with great relief that we entered the free flow lock into Paimpol harbour, and were soon directed into Bassin 1 where the harbour master kindly moved a boat along and helped us tie up to the town quay wall – in almost complete calm and shelter.

On Wednesday we chatted with some other visiting British crews, and played dodge-the-shower to wander around town and replenish our fridge.  We walked down to the entrance to the harbour to see the channel at low water: hard to believe it’s the same place, and spotted an older Allures 45 tucked into a side area of the port.  Up on the hard near a chandlery was a steel yacht that has sailed around the world – with a pet chicken on board, that laid an egg for her Skipper each day!

We enjoyed Paimpol, and its vibrant atmosphere of all things maritime.  It’s a pity we won’t be here in early August, when they have a famous shanty festival, of which there are photos of previous years’ events all over town.

Sunday 2 – Monday 3 June

We awoke to a hazy mist that thickened to fog as we set off just before 0800.  There was enough wind to set the full mainsail and genoa, and we sailed ‘blind’, grateful for radar and AIS on the chart plotter, for most of the morning.  We made steady progress in spite of light and variable winds, and by mid-afternoon when the tide turned we enjoyed speeds six knots and more.

As we swung into St Malo harbour in the evening light, we received no response on calling the lock keeper to request an opening, so we decided the alternative, out-of-town marina would probably be cheaper, and rafted neatly onto a charter yacht in Bas des Sablons.  The following day we learned the error of our judgement, when we met a brand new Allures 45.9, Wireless, in the Intra Muros harbour on the edge of the old walled city of St Malo, whose crew informed us their berthing fee was €10 a night less than ours, and with better facilities.  They kindly invited us for a look aboard, and it was interesting to see the evolvement of the model ‘in the flesh’, after talking about it so enthusiastically, never having actually seen one, at Southampton Boat Show back in September 2016.

We continued our cycle ride around the bumpy cobbled streets of the lovely (rebuilt) mediæval city, treating ourselves to a first taste of French cuisine with a pain au chocolat.  Just as well, as there wasn’t food shopping to be found.

Reluctant to spend another expensive night in the marina, and having seen what we wanted to of St Malo, it seemed a good idea to investigate an anchorage just West of the city port, so at a time when most boats are glad to be coming into harbour, we set off towards the sunset in a poor choice of clothing for the conditions.  Some three hours later we finally dropped the anchor off the Ile de Hebihens, not entirely sheltered from the swell.  Mate prefers to tuck right into shore, but this is not possible in areas of huge tides, as we’d potentially find ourselves beached at the end of the necessary length of scope when the tide drops.  Yes, our lifting centreboard means this is theoretically possible, but we would never choose to take the ground without first having prospected at low water to check for debris, rocks and angle of slope.

Saturday 1 June

We filled the tanks with fresh water, and washed the salt off the decks.  To be ready for an early start with minimum fuss the following morning, we then escaped our rafted berth on the outer pontoons of Guernsey’s main harbour, and tucked into the fairly calm Fermain Bay, an anchorage just South of St Peter Port. It became peaceful once all the motor boats, jet skis and tenders had gone home for supper.

Wednesday 27 March – Wednesday 3 April: Gosport to Plymouth

Overnight stops in Beaulieu River, Keyhaven, Poole (2), Weymouth, Brixham (2); total mileage 165

Our latest start date yet for the new season’s cruising, we finally departed Royal Clarence Marina in Gosport, Portsmouth Harbour at 1430 on Wednesday afternoon.  We decided to make a series of shortish day sails to Plymouth, to give us a chance to check everything is back where it should be, and to allow us to acclimatise to the cold and find our sea legs.

With high pressure and no wind, we motored sedately up the Solent, recognising all the familiar landmarks, and enjoying the lift of a favourable tide.  Past Cowes we slipped into the mouth of the Beaulieu River, and dropped anchor in our favourite spot amongst oystercatchers, sandpipers, gulls and the occasional curlew.

By sheer fluke, we’ve chosen a good week to go Westwards, with High Waters in the early morning and the ebb to aid us on our way, so we were up for an 0645 departure to leave the lovely river and head for the fort at Hurst Point, just opposite the Needles.  Behind the lighthouse is a channel that leads to the small town of Keyhaven, and we practised our rusty navigational skills (and followed the line on the chart plotter) to meander carefully in to anchor just out of the channel – with our rudders nudging a sand bank.  After only nine miles we enjoyed a relaxed brunch, and spent the day dealing with online shopping orders.

On Friday we weighed the anchor for another early start, and followed yesterday’s route on the chart plotter screen to regain the main channel, as we were surrounded by thick fog.  A local fishing vessel followed us out: I only hope he was as surprised to find us in front of him as we were to find him behind us.  Fortunately, we have a number of tools at our disposal for ‘sailing blind’, including AIS and radar, which show us most everything around us in overlays on the chart plotter.  New since our Polish morning fog experiences last season, Skipper has fitted a foghorn that sounds automatically every two minutes with the Morse signal commonly known as ‘lame duck’: -.. which we learned in RYA lessons as “lame quack quack”.

The sun was trying to break through and burn off the fog as we passed Christchurch, and we had a partial view of the high rise towers of Bournemouth’s clifftop perch, but a stubborn fug remained over Poole harbour, and it was with great relief that Mate recognised the hulk of the chain ferry making its way across the entrance ahead of us.  Visibility improved gradually as we approached the ‘town quay’ – actually a very expensive marina, and we tied up in the same slot as last visit, without any drama, well before lunchtime.

We spent a delightful evening at the Urban Reef in Boscombe, catching up with old friends from Teddington school gate days, comparing notes on our suddenly grown up offspring and their doings, and discussing what us oldies might be planning now the more demanding parenting days seem to be behind us all.

We both endured some unavoidable shopping in Poole town centre on Saturday morning, before slipping the lines to wander across the harbour, amidst the hardy early season water sports enthusiasts, to anchor in Blood Alley Lake, just South of Brownsea Island.  For the second time in three days, we managed to anchor on a sandbank, and with only a few centimetres of tidal rise here, it didn’t look like we were likely to be able to just float off, so Skipper came up with the ingenious solution of letting out more anchor chain, motoring onto it and off in a different direction.  Eventually we managed to wiggle ourselves free, by which time it was late enough that the day trippers had all gone home, and we felt safe anchored in mid-channel, with our anchor light clearly marking the spot – from 21 metres up.

We marked Mothering Sunday with a fabulous day’s sailing to Weymouth, one of our favourite ports in this part of the world.  We set off early once again, cleared Old Harry and Studland Bay’s seahorses in some residual haze and a bit of chop, and by 0915 we were enjoying a lovely fast very broad reach under just a first-reefed mainsail.  Clearing St Alban’s Head with almost no tidal overfalls, we unrolled the staysail to improve the balance of the boat, and were soon revelling at 7.5 knots in 20 knots of wind, and sunshine.

After providing a brief respite for a number of passing warblers, we played a brief game of cat and mouse through a dinghy racing fleet outside the entrance to Weymouth harbour, where we needed to drop sails, before preparing lines and fenders and finding a whole pontoon to ourselves, all in time for afternoon tea.

Monday morning, 1 April – April Fool’s Day – brought us back down to earth with a bit of a bump (not literally).  The reality of cruising is that no two days are ever the same, and it’s still true for us that the best outweigh the more difficult, but days like this one certainly give Mate cause to wonder…

Another early start saw us leave Weymouth to churn through a lumpy sea towards Portland Bill.  We timed it well, rounding the point in the inshore channel half an hour before slack water, and settled back with the mainsail still at first reef, and the staysail.  Unfortunately, the weather gods had not bothered to check the meteorologists’ instructions, and instead of giving us a nice steady Northerly F4, we got a disappointing ESE 1-2: not enough to do anything with, especially in a swell created overnight that rolled us around most uncomfortably.

We had a near miss with a motor boat coming straight at us at nearly eight knots, with apparently nobody on the bridge or keeping any kind of lookout or radio watch.  We managed to stay clear, and reported the incident in some detail to Solent Coastguard.  When they finally raised that ‘skipper’ (I hesitate to use the word), after a warship on local operations had offered to intervene, it was evident that he had no more idea of how to manage a vessel responsibly than fly to the moon: he was cheeky, offhand, disrespectful and thoroughly unrepentant.  I would guess he was met at the end of his day’s passage by unimpressed officialdom, and encouraged to see the error of his ways.  Such examples make me wonder why boat ownership is not regulated by at least minimum tests for competence, in the way that driving a road vehicle necessitates.

After a period attempting to motor sail, by which time Mate had thoroughly succumbed to regular visits to the Jimmy bucket, the sails were dropped and we motored directly around the Mewstone and across Torbay to Brixham.  Once in the relative shelter of the bay, conditions improved marginally, and preparations were made by both crew for tying up in the marina.  Luckily, Skipper was on fender application duty, as the lower starboard guard rail (lifeline) parted company from the turnbuckle securing it to the stanchion, and only his quick reaction stopped us losing at least two fenders over the side: Mate was still not really up to an unscheduled MOB practice.

The MDL marina in Brixham was frighteningly expensive, but the staff were welcoming and the facilities pleasant.  After a fragile evening on board, and a quiet morning still recovering, we managed to dodge the cold showers (of rain and hail) to take a late afternoon stroll around this historic fishing port and seaside town.

As always when cruising, our main concern is the weather forecast – we prefer to choose days more likely to be pleasant, with cooperative winds, where possible.  Consequently, we were unable to linger in Weymouth a second day, as we had wished, and on Tuesday decided to press on for Plymouth, rather than pausing in Salcombe en route.  We have been there on a camping trip of mixed outcome in pre-boat-owning days, and sailed our previous yacht in there on the way home from the Northwest, where her previous owner kept her, but l’escale has not yet been introduced to this pretty harbour.

After checking with the marina staff for local knowledge of tidal issues around our next waypoints, Start Point and Prawle Point, we set off on time again on Wednesday morning, into a sea now calmed by yesterday’s change in wind direction.  Before long, we were set with full main and genoa, and any initial apprehension from Mate’s still fragile state was soon dissipated.  We made good progress Southwest, with things only becoming difficult when we reached Bolt Head and saw a heavy squall approaching.  We’d already changed down to the staysail, and Mate didn’t expect the wind to increase as much as it did, in spite of the forecast of F7 gusts.  Things became challenging for a short period as icy rain accompanied the fluctuating direction of the wind as the squall passed through.

A couple of messy tacks and the worst was over, for now, and a reef was judiciously taken in the mainsail, in preparation for what was surely still to come.  Interestingly, in trying to sail 40˚ off the wind as it backed, we were heading into Bigbury Bay and the next tack gave us a good clean course for the Mewstone (a different one, this at the mouth of the River Yealm, just East of Plymouth; there are at least three on this stretch of coast, with another off Dartmouth).  We hung on through winds between 11 and 28 knots, and several dousing of rain and hail, sometimes lurching at only 2-3 knots, but mostly with at least some tide with us.  Rounding that Mewstone at last and lining up for the end of the breakwater into Plymouth Sound at last, we furled the staysail and pulled the main hard in to try to flatten the boat as we were now almost exactly into the wind.  The waves started to ease gradually as we came into some shelter behind Rame Head, and both crew relaxed at last as we picked up the channel for Smeaton’s Tower and around Drake Island. We received a warm welcome from familiar faces as we tied up gratefully in Mayflower Marina at last, and Mate got the kettle on for a much-needed cup of tea.  We’ll be here for about six weeks, while some more projects are completed, and are looking forward to sailing with our Alu-Club friends at Easter.

Tuesday 5 – Thursday 7 November

Skipper having dealt with the essentials of refilling the gas cylinder, the crew was then able to concentrate on exploring this delightful city, a fortress built on a peninsular out into the Atlantic.  The marina is nothing to write home about, but is located on the same part of the isthmus as the fortified old city, and the bikes ensured swift and easy access, along a pleasant promenade past the multiple cruise ships.  We toured the main highlights from the notes in the blog page ‘Tourist Tracks – Cádiz’, and our favourites were the area behind Caleta beach, reminiscent of Havana, and the stunning Roman amphitheatre.  Definitely somewhere worth a return trip.

PS In case you were wondering: No, not a sign of any fireworks or bonfires here on Tuesday evening ;-(

Friday 28 – Sunday 30 September

Having made a better job of passage planning and tidal calculations, we got cracking at first light, North into a Northerly, which gradually backed through NNW to NW, ranging from F4 to F7, with an unpleasant sea and poor visibility – the latter a repetition of this stretch back in the Spring.  Sadly it all proved too much for Mate, who succumbed to a very bad day’s seasickness and abject misery, leaving Skipper to manage pretty much the whole passage single-handed.

Just after midnight my weary crew gratefully tied up to the quay in Borkum, having completed a passage of 90 Miles and 15 hours of illness.  Although a friendly couple came to say hello the following morning, nobody seemed to care, any more than on our previous visit, to take any money from us.  Probably just as well, as we departed less than twelve hours later, and were soon enjoying a totally different day, with Mate helming under full main and genoa, and the speed touching nine knots.

We continued down the estuary of the Ems river, that forms the border between Germany and the Netherlands, and followed the channel back to Delfzijl.  We had difficulty locking through the small lock, which seemed very narrow, into the Eems Kanaal, and found a comfortable and friendly berth at t’Dok, a club marina.  A very long hose was necessary to fill our tanks with fresh water…very slowly.

We joined the Sunday convoy through the bridges East of Groningen, and settled in the basin of the Zuiderhaven to await the next weather window.  Meanwhile we treated ourselves to supper out, and a very wet walk around this bustling university town.

Thursday 13 – Wednesday 19 September

On the Thursday we turned North for Kastrup’s fuel berth, navigating the final metres of the flight path into Copenhagen airport on the way.  Doubtless the jet pilots are used to yachts crossing their approach route; we weren’t so sure…

In a pleasant Southwesterly, my crew set the staysail and first reef in the main, and we set off towards Klintholm, on the island of Møn – to the Southwest.  We soon swapped up the staysail for the genoa, and an hour later shook out the reef and continued under full main.  This worked well for the majority of the 49 Mile passage, but for the last hour we gave up pushing the headwind, and dropped all sails to close another circle as we motored back into our first Danish port.

Thankful not to be delayed by another electrical failure, we left the following morning, motoring again into a stubborn headwind across the bay towards Stubbekjøbing.  Contrarily, we managed to float the genoa to motorsail down the channel into the fishing and commercial harbour, having correctly assessed the leisure harbour (from seaward) as too small for us.  The town seemed peculiarly quiet, but our wanders uncovered some interesting architecture.

After sitting out a windy Saturday in harbour, we headed West under the first bridge, on Lolland.  Once clear we set full main and genoa in a light South-southwesterly, clearing a second bridge between Falster and Faro, and a third at Storstrømsbroen.  After lunch the wind picked up and the sails were reduced, first staysail and then first reef in the main.  By 1600 the wind was F5, gusting 24 knots, so Skipper set the second reef.  A good day’s sailing saw us tied up to a new pine quay on the edge of a camping site at Kragenaes, with some pleasant facilities all to ourselves.

Monday 17^th saw an early departure for a 45 Mile passage to Bagenkop, our final port in Southwest Denmark.  A good day’s sailing in a steady Southwesterly F4 with easy motion on the sea, we started close hauled under full main and genoa, and by 1100 had tacked onto starboard, finding ourselves in the lee of Langeland and safely West of the Traffic Separation Scheme (TSS) lanes.  In the afternoon we noted Encore motoring a mile ahead of us, and we enjoyed the coastal scenery and majestic lighthouse as we rounded the tip of the island to be safely tied up by 1700, ready for a lovely long chat with Second Mate, who was celebrating being settled in her new flat in Balham by cooking a Mystery Dinner for friends.

The only fly in the ointment of our final days of Baltic cruising was Skipper finding the holding tank to be blocked and full.  Now we needed to find a pump out station that we could get close enough beside to enable the problem to be rectified – soon.

Overnight the wind swung back to Eastsoutheast, giving us a light and bright day that began under full main and genoa.  Not surprisingly, the wind was once again ‘on the nose’, and we reduced to staysail and then reefed the main, before changing the courtesy flag from Danish back to German when we crossed the border mid-afternoon.  Shaking out the reef as the wind kindly backed to Southsouthwest  as it increased to F5, we revelled in the warm sunshine and lovely scenery of the Kieler Bucht, the mouth of the Kiel Fjord.  We decided to anchor just North of Holtenau, the entrance to the Kiel canal, after a last hour of unpleasant winds and very choppy water.  We tucked in close to shore, and with only occasional rocking from passing ships, enjoyed a private performance by a fire juggler, and then bagpipe practice wafting across the water from a nearby workboat.

On Wednesday morning we crossed the busy shipping lanes in and out of Kiel, heading for Laboe on the Eastern bank, as the pilot book implied a pump out station would be available.  Unfortunately we were unable to access (or even identify) such a facility, and after a certain amount of tight space manoeuvring by my unflappable Skipper, we set off back to the other side of the fjord, berthing once more in Dürstenbruck.  This time the harbourmaster invited us to take the alongside berth on the pontoon, thus relieving us of the necessity to lasso a post at the stern while not ramming the quay on our bow.  Oddly, we had a second experience here of the non-tidal Baltic producing a tidal surge, when the step onto the pontoon from the side deck varied between almost level and about a metre up!

Wednesday 12 September

Back in our own company, we turned to organising the boat for our next passages, provisioning and stowing.  We also enjoyed exploring the Pilot Museum, once the site of the oldest Pilot station in Denmark, perfectly positioned to meet and escort the convoys of large ships that ply the tricky waters of the Øresund between the North and Baltic Seas.

When the system for allocating pilots to commercial vessels became automated and centralised, the station in Dragør was closed down, but enterprising local people took the opportunity to turn it into a museum, and it remains exactly as it was when the last pilot closed the door behind him for the final time.  Now antiquated radio communications equipment remains on the desks alongside large scale paper charts and record books, while there is clear evidence of how the men relaxed, slept and catered for themselves during shifts.  The buildings offer a fascinating insight into another way of life, and remain a testament to the brave local men who made this often difficult work their life’s calling.

Before leaving Dragør, we were delighted to finally make the acquaintance of Encore, a red (trimmed) Ovni that we first encountered in a pretty anchorage in the Swedish archipelago.  Here she was crewed by the Skipper and his wife, born South African but adopted Kiwis, and their guests, her sister and partner.  Another very pleasant exchange of hospitality and sharing of sailing yarns was enjoyed by all, and in the way of these things, contact details exchanged.