Sunday 22 April
If you have a good memory, you may recall that my good friend, Jeanny the autopilot, became unwell in typical Autumn conditions at the beginning of a crossing of the English Channel in October 2015, and the passage was aborted in favour of a very pleasant few days in Bembridge on the Isle of Wight. The problem was discovered to be water in his workings, and an expensive repair was carried out by the manufacturer.
When Mate suggested he should be tested earlier this year, he exhibited the same symptoms and is once again unable to perform. He came originally from Jefa, who built my steering wheels too, and are based just South of Copenhagen. As we were relatively close, and will need him for some of our planned longer passages in the Baltic this season, my crew decided to amend our original cruise itinerary, in favour of (hopefully) solving the problem permanently.
Thus, an all-too-brief night was eased by a beautiful sunrise, as another day began at 0530 for an 0600 departure to begin a 66M passage North for Klintholm, a passage harbour just over halfway to Copenhagen. Skipper calculated that for maximum economy of our dwindling diesel supply, Trevver’s optimum speed was 1800rpm, giving us a comfortable, if noisy cruising speed of six knots through yet another silky sea. The crew fell straight into a two-hourly watch rotation, which suits them both well when even our passage wind makes for a cold helm, and visibility is sometimes minimal.
By 1300 the wind had filled in enough to hoist the mainsail to give us a little lift, and soon both genoa and staysail joined her for an afternoon’s beating into a light Easterly. At times the wind backed a little to the North, so our course wasn’t entirely consistent, and when the wind strengthened late in the day, the genoa was furled to ease the heel, but we ended up a little underpowered.
My final approach was straight into the wind, which saved time while Skipper dropped the mainsail back into its lazybag, and lines and fenders were prepared as we closed the sea wall framing the harbour entrance. Skipper tucked me neatly into a space alongside a sturdy pontoon, for now being blown on but when the wind changes overnight I’ll be blown off. Once again willing hands took ropes and helped us in, and by 1945 we were snug and settled.
The harbourmaster soon came by to welcome us, and surprised Mate with his excellent English. Klintholm has long been a fishing port, and houses a rescue vessel and pilot launch. In the 1980s a marina village was created on the edge of the tiny village, and soon a support base will be established for an offshore wind farm. It is all spotlessly clean and tidy.