Some way off the North Coast of France

Some way off the north coast of France, there's an island that's surrounded by fierce tides. It's rolling hills and chalk cliffs look down upon it's wrecks, and hide its secrets. On the Downs, and by the shoreline, the Autumn leaves turn golden, rusty, and red. Some drop, to be blown around by the wind, then crunched under foot by the marauding hoards arriving by boat, blown in on that same wind.

Politely the Harbour Master at Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, tells us the harbour's full. Our Rally is split. The boats that arrived early are rafted-up inside. We leave to anchor outside.

Two weeks later we try again, and drift into the quiet seclusion of Bembridge at the eastern end of the island. Avocette is the party boat. Then it a hike across the causeway to the local yacht club for a warm welcome, victuals, and beer.

It has been a kind autumn so far. Blue skies and warm breezes, have seen Avocette dropping her hook in her old haunts, and the Beaulieu River in the New Forest, and most often of all, in Newtown Creek. It's migration time. Butterflies, Swallows, Martins, Ospreys and Peregrins all flying south. My favourites, the Swifts, are long gone, having left, as usual, during the first week of August. In their place are the winter visitors, waders and the geese - thousands of them! I must get up the marshes...

Avocette - A New Role

It's the end of September, and finally the English summer arrives. The winds go light and variable. The sun comes out. Even the water is warm - well "warm" that is for the UK.

Sailing in tides again brings an extra dimension too. Returning from the Needles I was surprised to see the Shingles bank, like a new island, rising a full meter or more from the sea - and it wasn't yet low tide. The shallow patches in one of my favourite creeks had moved too (glad it was mid-week and empty of other boats!!).

Why is it that any piece of rope, and my mooring strop with pick-up line, when left alone for any length of time will contrive to prove that at 3,854 knots the Ashley Book of Knots is one short! Thanks for the photo Robin.

Avocette and I have found a new role as Committee Boat for a few local regattas. Race boats have varied from the fast and powerful Farr 45's, through Beneteau 40.7's, to the pretty Westmacott designed Victory Class and Bembridge One Designs. The Victories are my local One Design Classics and it was great to see my old boat Z50 winning the regatta, with Z54 that I have raced on so often coming second. Catherine's photos are worth a look too http://web.me.com/catherineking/Victory/Victory_Class.html

Immediate plans include an overdue scrub-off, local and channel sailing, and the inevitable round of maintenance, and polishing (volunteers welcome). Next year the plan is the Baltic, Finland and Sweden, and I am actively looking for crew. The plan is to leave in April and transit the Kiel Canal, returning late August/September. Actual ports and Countries to be visited are yet to be decided. If you would like to join for all, or part, of the cruise please do get in touch.

Trojans Maiden Voyage

It was dark at 3am. Half a moon lit the withies as we threaded our way down the shallow creek, into the main channel, then out across the bar. Chichester Harbour soon disappeared into the darkness astern, and we headed for the Owers - the rocks at the southern end of Selsey Bill. The sun rose, a crimson ball, heralding the dawn as we turned east.

Launched a month ago, this was Trojans maiden voyage. The owners had built her on the harbours edge, and now I was delivering her to the French Canals.

You don't see many Dutch motor barges making passage in the Channel, and we drew quizzical looks from all who passed us by. A stop over in Sovereign Harbour, then up early to catch the forecast, the 0430hr lock, and off to Dungeness. Dover Coastguard "tagged" us as we crossed the shipping lanes, and entered Calais.

Re-built after the war, much of the city is that chunky, uninspired architecture of the 50's and 60's, but the Hotel De Ville is fabulous, and its ornamental gardens make a fine setting for Rodin's famous sculpture of the Burghers of Calais.

Newtown Creek - A favourite Anchorage

Finally the sun has come out, not a lot of wind, but the sky is blue(ish), and it's much warmer.

Cowes week looms and the local classics, the Portsmouth Victory Class, are readying themselves for a hectic week. It will be a memorable week of racing as this Cowes Week also celebrates the XOD's 100 Anniversary. The top helms from the Victory's have "jumped ship" to race in XOD's. Word has it that it has made their top boats sit up and take note.

Me, I'm sitting in the sun at Newtown Creek, cow's chew the cud here! Will I race in the Victory's.....

Boat Mending for the next trip

Arriving home was great - good to see family and friends, good to have an English beer, but the English summer!!!!!! This weekend has been the only two blue sky days since I got home. It's warmer, but summer?

I'm catching up with all those jobs that I nearly got round too over the last year.

In the short term I'm sailing locally, the Solent, and aim to cross to France in a couple of weeks time for a spell. The plan, at the moment seems to be to head east next April, for the Baltic, and then on up to Sweden and Finland to catch-up with friends from this years cruise in their home waters. If you fancy joining me, either on my boat, or to sail in company, let me know.

My home sailing club welcomes visitors and has its own pontoon, so if you are in the area, drop in and give me a call.

Sei Whale, and Homeward Bound

Issued at 0717 Friday 8th July, sea area Wight: Gale force 8 imminent. Inshore forecast for Selsey Bill to Lyme Regis: South or south west 5-7 becoming west or southwest 4-5 later, sea moderate or rough, showers, becoming fair later, visibility moderate or good. We sailed! Coming down the Lymington River, on the last leg of the voyage, it was blowing. I eased out a tiny area of headsail, and we charged off at 7kts, then 8. then 8.4kts. Almost 12000 miles of sailing and the worst conditions were in the Solent!

It was emotional sailing through home waters, knowing family would be there, on the quay, to take my lines. Already though, the thoughts were there - Where next?

I have made so many friends, and had so many invitations - Will it be the Mediterranean and Israel, or maybe the Baltic and Scandinavia, or maybe the States. One thing is certain, this was Chapter 1, the preparation for Chapter 2 has begun.

I will need crew ...... are you coming?

Warm Beer and Soggy Summers

We knew we were reaching the end of our crossing. The first signs were the fulmars searching the waves, their powerful wing beats and stocky bodies unmistakeable. Then gannets - how similar they are to boobies - diving for their supper.

Crossing the continental shelf, into the western approaches to the English Channel, dolphins came leaping across the waves. Soon dozens were jousting for pole position on the bow wave. More queued up alongside, twisting and turning, darting under the boat, only to re-appear and leap clear of the water as they too enjoyed our arrival. Inside the boat, it echoed to their calls and clicks, and, from far away, others answered. Soon dozens surrounded the boat. The party lasted into the night - it was a full three hours before the last of the revellers left.

Our last night watches were the busiest since leaving Morocco. Deep-sea trawlers criss-crossed our path, and merchant ships headed out to destinations around the globe. The loom of the Scilly's lighthouse, a sign post in the ocean, confirmed our position, then, as dawn broke the heavy grey clouds slowly lifted and revealed the craggy cliffs of the Lizard.

Falmouth is a great landfall. It's retained its charm and character, its picture-postcard good looks, and its friendly natives. The streets are narrow, the pace of life slow. The buildings hang over the harbours side. Old gaffers, and fishing boats, hang off the quays. The Helford - unspoilt and quiet with woods rolling down the hillside till their branches dangle inches from the water, and cast near perfect reflections. Fowey has changed little over the years, but its quiet winding streets are now the showroom for trendy sailing gear - a bit like Cowes really.

Devon too has its jewels - the River Yealm, carved through the hills, great houses and old fisherman's cottages cling to the hillside, linked by narrow paths - the walk rewarded by a great pint in the sailing club. Were in Dartmouth now, Portland next.

The winds have been great, but, warm beer and soggy summers?

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Sole, Lundy, Fastnet

There are few shearwaters around now, and surprisingly, no storm petrels. The fishing reflects the cold water too, so no more mahi-mahi. The weather has turned much colder; the sea is no longer blue.

Watching the endlessly changing pattern of the waves, listening to the fizz from Avocette's wash as we surged across the ocean, my heart leapt. It was unmistakable. The blow, the fin, the enormous arching grey back - a Sei whale, almost as long as the boat. It powered over to us, dived under the boat, and surfaced the other side. Its shallow dive was barely below the surface. We could see the "fluke-prints", or swirls left by the beat of its tail just below the surface as it swum alongside us. Its sickle shape fin followed by it's arching back rose from the surface, submerged, then rose again. Then it was gone. As silently as it had come the whale had carried on its way.

Last night was dark - very, very dark. I have never sailed on such a dark night. There were no stars. There was no horizon. All was inky black. All except the bow wave, the wash, the crests of the foaming seas - all lit-up in the dazzling brightness of the most intense bio-luminescence that I have ever seen.. It was hypnotic.

Sole, Lundy, Fastnet, names from a distant memory. We are almost across Fitzroy and already the seas seem to have changed. Gone are the great ocean swells with their wind blown waves. It feels like the short chop of wind against tide. Tides! When was the last time I had to worry about those?

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Entering Fitzroy

Struggling out of bed to take over the watch can be tough. We're not in the tropics now, and the chill night air is a sharp reminder. Gone too is the silent VHF radio. "What did you have for supper Mike?", "What colour is your spinnaker?" - As if they could see it in the dark! Yachts surround us. It's the return of the Azores & Back Race, and the airwaves sound like a Saturday in the Solent.

So it's back to warm beer and soggy summer days, Ho Hmm.

Now where is England……..

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The Hole in the Wall - Azores Style

Before the days of piped water, direct into your home, the stand-pipe and a bucket was a daily chore. The Fontana still exists in the Cabo Verde. In the Azores the last remaining ones have been demolished -well nearly. To preserve the last on Terciera, one local took on the local government. To ensure its survival he connected it not to water, but to a keg of beer. Now, for one day a year on the day of that streets bullfight, the brewer, Super Bock, connects up the beer - and its free!

The locals board-up their houses, and visitors, like me, are invited into their gardens, and onto their balconies, to enjoy the running of the bulls.

Standing on top of a 4ft high, 2ft thick stone wall topped with a thick timber barricade a further 3ft high, I felt quite safe. Safe, that was, til the taunting of one family opposite, irritated the bull who with one lunge, ripped away their boards, sending then running indoors for cover as he lunged at them again!

Anyone can run with the bulls, and the bulls will run at anyone. It's mostly the young men who taunt the bulls, each trying to get as close as they can without being gored. The bull is no respecter of age either. If you are out there - you are fair game, and if the bull picks on you, you have to move fast - very fast!

Even the young are encouraged to take part. Not in the streets, but on the beach. Young cows, still with big horns, charge at the kids who scatter before it, mostly into the sea, only to be followed by the beast. I watched from the top of the sea wall - 30ft above!

Tonight its our turn, the bulls are run around the marina.....

You can´t beat Sao Jorge Cheese

Whilst cruising, it is very easy to be seduced by the place you have stopped in - and your anchor grows roots. You make friends, the supermarket is "down the road", and there´s the "local pub"!


Luis came to supper onboard, then insisted we went for a beer. Sao Jorge is famed for its cheese, and we weren´t allowed to leave without some - the cafe owner, Jose Baltazar, insisted, and thrust a carrier bag into my hand.

Sao Jorge houses cling to the hill sides and cluster around the local church. Steep roads wind down the hills, linking farms and villages in a network of cobbled streets. We left at dawn with the Cory's shearwaters, their calls sounding like kazoos, carrying eerily across the still water. It was a full two hours before the sun crested the island and its full splendor could be enjoyed. The thick cumulus cloud nestling on the islands crest feeds the many waterfalls that cascade down the cliffs, their plunge pools the sea, but we sailed by, under a clear blue sky, with risso's dolphins, pilot whales, and later, common dolphins for company.

Terciera, the eastern most island in the archipelago, is the "big smoke". It's busy, and its very Portuguese. We have come for the Festival of Sanjoaninas - the bull fighting festival!

Spotted by the Police

The Azores, and Horta were gearing up for a long weekend. Friday, Monday and Tuesday were all going to be bank holidays. We had to move fast to get all the boat jobs done. Fast, however, is not in the rule book here, and it took a week to get the stitching resewn on the genoa, and a repair made to the kicker. We made full use of our time exploring the island and the interior of Peters Cafe Sport. We walked around the crater at the top of Faial's highest peak, and visited the site of the 1957 eruption. Thirsty work, so back to Cafe Sport!

Many of the boats we had left in the Caribbean were in port, so it was great to catch-up again. Inevitably though this would be the last time we would be together. Where most routes east across the Atlantic tend to lead to Faial, and Peters Bar, from here we separate. Our destinations are often far apart, but the friendships made are close. One day our wakes will cross again.

The sail to Velas, on Sao Jorge, was short. The small marina is enclosed by the islands cliffs. Cliffs that, after sunset, echo to the strange calls of the thousands of Cory's shearwaters that return daily to roost.

We didn't have time to clear in. We had been spotted by one of the Policia Maritima. I first met Luis in the Cabo Verde, then again in St Lucia, and other islands in the Caribbean, and, like all good village bobbies, Louis knows everyone. A beer here, a meal there, we chatted, enjoyed bands playing, the processions, and the festivities of the long weekend. Now everyone knows us too.

Antigua Classics Revisited

Pelicans, the lovely Rosa, and her fresh water pump, topped off by the steel band at Shirely Heights.

Return Crossing to the Azores

Sun set, sun rise. Night followed day, and the watch rolled around on its two day cycle. We settled into the routine easily. Part of the routine included downloading the weather information. Synoptic charts gave me a clear idea of the evolving situation. Grib files were useful, but carried their warning - they could be in error up to 40%. Thankfully we had the reliable support of Herb. Herb spotted lows developing before the Met forcasts announced their presence. Go East he said, keep south of 35'N.

How sound that advice was to prove. We ducked under lows, and listened to other boats reporting 35, 45, 48kts. Looking north, one big and stubborn low thundered and raged like Mordor (Lord of the Rings) violent red, then orange, with flashes of yellow - intense brightness illuminating the night sky. Thunder clouds rose dramatically to the upper reaches, venting sheet, and forks of lightning throughout the night.

The Miami Hurricane Office has now taken an interest in this Low!

We had some fantastic sailing during the last three days. As the wind moved behind the beam we eased the sheets, and enjoyed the ride. Rarely below seven, often well over eight knots, Avocette was romping through the seas, heading for Horta, on the island of Faial and the Azores.

Entering our nineteenth day at sea, I watched as dawn broke. The sun burst through below the crust of cloud that ringed the edge of the world, and Pico's silouette, 68 miles away, rose starkly from the ocean floor, 2000m above the sea - the Azores. As if in welcome the sea around us errupted. Dolphins lept, tumbled, and splashed as they called, welcoming us to the Islands.

Shearwters joined in the fun as the sky shed its stars and turned an unbroken blue.

It will be good to get in. The boat has worked hard, and there are repairs to do. As we close the islands, it's like watching an artist paint a picture. First the outline shape, then, imperseptably at first, the detail, then colours start to appear. The patchwork of fields takes on different hues, a little green here, darker there, a splash of yellow...Up above wispy cirrus invades the blue slowly forming little patches of mackeral sky.

It's nineteen days since we left Antigua and we have yet to tack! We have reefed, and shaken them out - many times.We have sailed around squalls and low pressure systems hundreds of miles wide - but never tacked nor gybed.

PS. Yes the beer does taste good!

See - I don't get all the fun!

I find it difficult to believe that, sailing from the Tropics, across the North Atlantic Ocean, in the middle of summer, to England where you are experiencing the driest April on record, and a beautiful summer too, that here it has been so grey, so cold, so wet.

One day out from Antigua the sun hid behind a cloud, and has been rarely seen since. It's been damp, or drizzly, or it's rained - torrential at times. If that wasn't enough the sea has had its moments too with water flying everywhere. Together they have penetrated the deepest recesses of the boat. Everything has that sticky, salty, feel. Never have I worn my foul weather gear so much.

Today though, the sun is shining. Things are drying out. So do I care?

It has been an highly unusual season. Herb, the weather guru, said he can't remember a season like it. Propagation on the SSB radio has been so poor that at times communication as not been possible. But we've had it good. Compared with others we have had the "better" weather. We have been able to sail around the storms. We've seen, but missed the thunder and lightening, the 38kt winds, and even more rain.

Even now as we approach the Azores another low is tracking across, bringing with it more wind, more rain, but for now….I'll enjoy the sunshine - even if I do have a fleece on!

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Song of the Whale

It was one of those quiet days. A hazy sun was warming the cockpit as Scott sat quietly on watch. I was looking at the charts. It didn't matter which way I did th sums, it was still a long way to go.

We heard it together. That low mournfull cry. Looking over the side as I rushed into the cockpity Scott cried "Whale". There, alongside the starboard quarter, was a Minkie whale. Its calls clearly audible. Silently it turned and with barely a flip of its tail, was gone. What a moment.

Fourteen days, and 1689 miles, out from Antigua and we have still not tacked. There is another gale sweeping in to the north of us that will bring us first south-westerly winds then, as the front passes through, we might have to gybe to make our final run into Flores, the most western of the Azores archipelago. I can almost taste that beer….

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Neptune's Diamonds

There was no discernible difference between the inky black sea and the star-studded sky. Up above it was wall-to-wall stars. The Southern Cross, enticing us south, The Plough pointing to home. Below Avocette rode to the wind, her bows lifting to each wave before plunging down to part the next in an explosion of bio luminescence. Waves lit-up like car headlights on a distant hill. Spray landed like individual diamonds cast down on the sea - a fortune for Neptune to collect.

Things were on the change. Herb our weather forecaster and routing expert, had advised us of a low that was forming. Keep south he said, keep clear. The Tropical Wave we ran into yesterday reinforced his message. The sea changed, the sky changed, the wind intensified. Two reefs in the mainsail, roll the headsail, up with the staysail, as thirty-three knots whistled through the rigging. Then came the rain - and didn't it! Carly (the Hydrovane self-steering system) coped with it all. Well almost. Emerging from the torrent we had an horizon again, but steering only to the feel of the wind, we had been turned through one hundred and eighty degrees - we were heading for Antigua - our first "tack" since we left!

The Low-pressure system gave birth to a secondary low. The lightning display last night was spectacular. We kept south. We are now using precious diesel motoring East, looking for the high pressure and easterly winds that will lift us to the Azores.

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Gear failure - the sailors nightmare

Sailing these kinds of distance, gear failure is inevitable. Daily walks around the deck enable many potential problems to be spotted early, and action taken.

Even so some things can't be foreseen and you have to take action when it goes wrong.

With a bang the port jib sheet car exploded. Not a spare I carry - pity, it's a vital piece of deck gear. Luckily the tracks on the side deck have exactly the same cars. A quick swop - problem resolved.

They say things come in threes. Leaks into the forecabin, broken jib cars, what next?

Sadly not all problems are as easy to overcome. One critical failure last night resulted in serious debate. Should we return to Antigua or St Maartin for a replacement? We broke the potato peeler!!!

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Farewell Antigua

Barely a ripple disturbed the surface of Hermitage Bay, but the sun was already warming the day as we weighed anchor, and hoisted the main. The Australian, at anchor alongside, raised his mug of tea in a farewell salute as we headed out to sea.

Farewell Antigua.

Puffle by puffle, the wind filled in. We hardened-up, and pointed for the Azores, 6kts, 6.5kts - none too shabby!

Slowly we settled into our daily routine of three 4hr watches from 0600 - 1800, four 3hr watches from 1800 - 0600. At 1930hrs UTC, I called in to Herb on the SSB radio for the weather. Good forecast, 10-15kt winds from the E or ESE til the weekend. Thanks Herb - good copy.

Day two started grey and overcast, and stayed that way throwing in the odd shower for good measure. The bad news was that thw waves breaking over the bow had entered the anchor locker, trickled through the hatch into the forward cabin and soaked my bunk. Problem sorted, but I'm in the saloon for the next few days!

Three day's into the voyage, we are making good speed, in the right direction, and the suns shining, so am I bovvered?

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Escape from English Harbour

Scott returned from his two month trip into South America with girlfriend Caroline, we "did the Tot", weighed anchor, and headed out of English Harbour. It was tough saying good-bye to so many friends.

We didn't go too far - but tied up in Jolly Harbour. Caroline headed for the airport. I headed for Epicurian (Antigua's equivalelent to Waitrose).

Shopping done. Rig check done. Lights all working - stern light connections re-made. Now all we need is the weather. Looks like we go tuesday..........then maybe Wednesday would be better... or.....

My Underwater World

Cruising, means different things to each of us. The reality is that it is sailing the world, to stop in the most beautiful anchorages, then repair, and work on your boat, while you source spares, and wait patiently for their arrival. Occasionally you get time to explore the countryside too.

I plan my day to ensure I keep up with it all, polish the stainless and the GRP, clean the boat, and do routine maintenance. By mid-afternoon, I feel I have earned a break and head off in the dinghy for the reef under The Pillars of Hercules, at the entrance to English Harbour.

It’s always interesting, but this week has been magical. Not only have I watched the huge shoals of both sergeant, and surgeon fish as they patrol the reef, big multi-coloured parrot fish grazing the corals, Green and Hawksbill turtles, and all the usual suspects swimming to and fro, but I have witnessed several firsts: An octopus hunting and feeding. Squid, the chameleons of the sea patrolling the shallows, and a school of big Barracuda, cruising the surface as we swum side-by-side just a few feet apart.

There have been dramas too. A 4ft Moray eel took an exception to my accidentally sticking my fin into his lair. He came shooting out, mouth wide open, to display his needle-sharp teeth and displeasure, before returning to his lair to watch me with his beady-black eye.

Giant Trevally (similar to tuna) over 3 feet long, hunting in pairs, with mouths agape, as they tore through the water at astonishing speed, twisting and turning as the jacks they were hunting tried desperately to escape.

But the best was swimming with sharks. I had tied the dinghy to one of the buoys beside the reef. Jim and I donned our fins, masks and snorkels, dropped over the side, and there they were, slowly cruising the seabed under our feet. Eight feet long and dusty brown, we watched in awe as the Nurse sharks mooched around.

How I wish I had an underwater camera!

The cruising crowd is now thinning out. Each day more boats leave. Soon the harbours will be empty. Some have headed west, bound for the Panama Canal and the Pacific. Others have headed north to the US eastern seaboard. Many have moved on to the islands further north, St Barts, St Maartin, and the BVI, before starting back across the Atlantic.

I am waiting for my crew Scott to return. He is in S America, having spent the last two months exploring there with his girlfriend. Then I shall follow the others out into the Atlantic. I’ll head for the Azores, where hopefully, many of us will meet again to swop tales, enjoy a beer or two, and explore the Islands.

Lime it in Antigua

Race week came with wind and sunshine. The start line was short, and we were late. The big 150% jib took a lot of winching! Tacking up the island shore we overtook one boat, then another, and another. Coming into the windward mark we were lying second. Tack. Crisis - tack back - too late! The jib had caught on the radar and it ripped - big time.

It was Easter Sunday and the sailmakers were closed until the afternoon.
In Antigua, to Lime, means to take life easy. The sun was shining. We limed.

Race 2: Out to the start, unroll the main, unroll the jib - good repair. Why's the main falling down? To our frustration and dismay the roller swivel at the head had taken this moment to have a terminal failure. We limed.

Races three and four, I was on "Sunshine", built in 1958, in GRP with a long keel, she was an old lady. We had two great races, 25+kts, fluffy tradewind clouds and sunshine it did. Sadly though we cracked the boom, so yet again it was no more racing.

Race week is not a patch on Classic Week. Yes, the parties are bigger, with good bands, and last into the small hours each night, but its very commercial. Everyone wants your money. The best bit is all the shacks that appear overnight in the carparks. The locals set up their BBQ's, and sell good local food (at a price). It's a great opportunity to try Conch Chowder, Goat Water, Jerk Chicken, and Fish Roti, all server with pigeon pea rice, plantain, and fresh mango sauce.

I'll stick to Classics, with its beautiful boats, free champagne, beer and canapes!

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Whistle up the Wind

Very beautiful, very expensive, classic boats surrounded the Rosa. Moored stern to the dock, she lay with Lone Fox to port, Stormy Weather to starboard, and both Sincerity and Gaia ahead. What Rosa lacked in varnish, gleaming fittings, elegance and speed, she made up for with enthusiasm and superb seamanship.

The sweat was visible on the brows of the owners and captains of the classics surrounding us as, each day we sailed off the dock, then sailed back onto the dock at the end of the race. Rosa hardly ever used her engine.

Our crew was varied each day. If you wanted a sail, ask Spike the skipper. The square-rigger Picton Castle had arrived on the day of the first race. Built in 1928, she was on her 5th circumnavigation with her sail training crew of 45. We took most of them over the last three races!

Even with all sails set - Jib, staysail, topsail, gaff main, gaff mizzen, and spinnaker – Rosa was not able to match the speed of the others in the light winds. Whistle up the wind was the cry, and whistle we did - and guitars, djembi, fiddle, and banjolin too. Music played each day from our decks as we sailed around the racecourse. Back on the dock the music played again, both day and night too. This was the best fun I had ever had racing!

Everybody knew the Rosa. The cheers that went up as they passed us met with cheers from us in return.

We didn’t feature in the top three places, nor the bottom three either. We actually failed to finish a single race! Come the prize giving though, it was Rosa who walked away with the coveted prize, Spirit of the Regatta.

Race week looms. I shall be on a Nakesa, Swan 57. It will be a different!

Lots of Laughs on a Boat

Last years hurricanes wreaked havoc on the reefs of the Caribbean leaving large areas of broken, damaged, and dead coral. New wrecks added to the destruction. Yet amidst this chaos, delicate sea fans survived. Brain corals, some over a metre in diameter, Elk, Staghorn and flower corals, all provide cover for the life dependent on the reef. Groupers and moray eels hide in its cavernous hollows, while Squirrel and Parrotfish feed in its shelter, and great shoals of brightly coloured Damsel, and Butterfish, all swimming in unison, flash past.

Running the dinghy up the beach, the sand too hot to stand on, it was good to sit under the shade at Sunshine's beach-bar on Nevis, cold beer in hand. It had been a great day. The morning's snorkeling around the wreck in Bugs Bay (next door to Shitten Bay) St Kitts had been one of the best. Stingrays, Needlefish and jacks vied for our attention as we stared incredulously at the colours of the smaller fish, and wondered upon the storm that had driven the coaster "Tiano" onto the rocks, torn her open, and broken her back.

Up before the sun, it was to be a long hard beat back to Antigua. Forty miles distant, we sailed eighty, to meet my daughter Nicki, and friend Jen - a deadline I dared not miss!

Since leaving the Canaries food shopping has been a challenge. Fresh fruit and veg, many new and interesting, have been relatively easy to find, and the local grown ones delicious. All of it has to be carefully sorted and washed, and stripped of all cardboard packaging, in an effort to avoid brining roaches aboard. Meat is more of a problem. Most is imported frozen but then kept in far from ideal conditions. In the supermarket in Basseterre, on St Kitts, black mildew climbed the walls and rolls of old carpet soaked-up the smelly mess under the freezers. There have been two or three occasions when the thawing chicken gave off a stomach-churning aroma!

Antigua fares better, and even has two supermarkets of Waitrose quality (at Fortnum & Masons prices). It is a joy to find familiar cheeses, cold meats, wine and other luxuries.

Classic week is coming and the big yachts are arriving daily. The J Class, Velsheda and Ranger, the huge gaff schooners Windrose and Eleanora are already here. Maltese Falcon, a striking "square rigger" of new age technology, lies alongside with Mirabella III and others. Giant Motor Yachts(?) Skat, Bystander, and others, are also here as mother ships.

Life on board has taken on a new dimension since the girls arrived. Its LOLOB -lots of laughs on boats. Gone is the wholesome smell of diesel and salt. Now its perfumes and coconut fragrance! Their presence has woken up the Tot Club too. Even the superyachts in Falmouth Harbour have taken note. Clearly this Dads yacht just isn't big enough!

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Rock ‘n Roll in the Anchorage. Rock n Roll in the Hills

The anchorage at Montserrat is small and sheltered from the wind – but not the swell!


Montserrat’s volcano is still smoking. Clouds of steam and ash are being thrown up around the clock, and scientists at the observatory issue regular updates on the likelihood of another eruption.


The last in 1995 devastated the capital Plymouth, burying it under a pyroclastic river of ash. Only the spires and roofs of the bigger houses show above the flow.

The little “bungalow” with the red roof (bottom left of centre) is actually the top floor of a two story house, and we walked up to, then onto the roof, and looked in. Shoes and other personal effects still lay partially buried in the ash.


The north of the island is still beautiful. Covered in rich woodland, we walked up (extinct) volcanoes, saw the Montserrat Orioles - beautiful birds, unique to the island, humming birds, hawks, butterflies, iguanas, and agoutis (like an overgrown guinea pigs crossed with a rabbit).

We tried the local food, Goat Water, their version of Irish stew, and coconut pasties, then visited he recording studio.Spools of sound recording tape, mainly unused, littered the floor in the derelict Air Studios where Sir George Martin had recorded some of the most famous bands of the sixties and seventies, including the Beatles.

So Clear, I can see the colour of the coral 60ft below!

Sailing through the rock and coral reefs, in the often crystal clear waters of Antigua is a world apart from the muddy creeks of the Solent. As we drop anchor we're hailed by another yacht. Betsy, a Bowman 40 from Portchester SC, first met us when I dropped anchor alongside them in Newtown Creek., now it's Nonsuch Bay! Like a beer?

The snorkelling has been fantastic. Great coral heads rise from the depths. Brain, staghorn, fan, and tube corals give shelter to a vast variety of fish. Big groupers sulk in their shadows, while huge shoals cruise around, darting this way, then that. The colours are amazing: electric blue, silver, yellow, striped, pastel, spotted - the list is as endless as the variety.

Antigua is the most expensive Island I have visited. US$35 to clear in, and the same to clear out. Ten times the cost of the other islands, and Martinique was free. None the less it's my second home, and I have many friends here and so it was that we were invited out to Franks boat "Ilandia"for a Tot. He's got a Yongert 40 - that metres, not feet, and she's actually 170ft overall, so there was plenty of space for all.

There are many of the Superyachts here now. They are gathering for Classic Week. Many of the older ones can often be seen out sailing, working-up for the racing. It's a truly spectacular sight to see the grace, power, and beauty of these old classics. Acres of sail set, they thunder past, tack, gybe, and reach off towards Guardeloupe or Montserrat. I can't wait to be racing against them again.

The weather Gods must have taken heed and read the rule book at last. It has stopped raining, and the winds have dropped to Easterly (is there another direction)12-15 kts. The temperature has also dropped. Gone is the scorching heat and high humidity. Now it's a comfortable 28'C, and the skies are blue. I guess it's getting better back home too!!

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Barbuda -Nobody knows it's here!

The Island of Barbuda lies 30 miles north of Antigua surrounded by reefs. A low coral atoll, rarely visited, it probably has the best beaches in the Caribbean. Half the size of Antigua, the population of just two thousand is clearly out-numbered by the Frigate birds, Pelicans, and Booby's. Donkeys wander the streets, horses and deer the open spaces, so different from it's volcanic neighbours.

We spent a day enjoying its delights. A walk around the Capital took only half an hour. A walk along the beach took a lot longer, there's eleven miles of it. Elley, a local fisherman, cooked us lunch on an open fire, and a swim in the turquoise waters. Its deserted here, there are no tourists, no hotels, just a few yachts that call. Sundowners on the warm coral sand, supper on the boat, and the rhythmic sound of the surf as company.

Swamps & Oceans, Portsmouth, Dominica

Heading North - Single-handed

The Weather Gods had not been reading their rule book! My planned departure north was thwarted by NE 30-35kts and leaden skies. I was going nowhere! Had I cleared out of St Lucia only to become an illegal immigrant? For two days I left my anchor stuck firmly in the mud of the Lagoon.

The sail to Martinique was exhilarating. Still the wind was NE, but now the more usual 20-22kts. A fast 20 mile fetch in 2-3m seas, a tack, and it was engine on, sails down, and into Le Marin. France in the Caribbean. And France it was; Boulangeries, Euros, and expensive beer. Did I like it? Non! But I had come to pick-up Scott, a new crew. I cleared in, and we cleared out, first to St Pierre, then across to Portsmouth, in Dominica.

Polite and courteous, these boat-boys have got themselves organised. The Portsmouth Association of Yacht Security (PAYS) is a well conceived, well organised group of local lads who want to make a difference. They lay moorings, organise security 24/7, lay on water and road taxis, and arrange tours. They are a breath of fresh air in the Caribbean.

Rowing us up the Indian River, through the mangrove swamp, Alexis (PAYS) brought the history of the island, its people, and wildlife to us. He introduced us to Grey Herons, Green Kingfishers, and Hummingbirds. Huge White Crabs scuttled away, while Iguanas sat placidly waiting, like us, for the rain to stop, and the sun to come out. Tree ferns, as old as the dinosaurs, flowers of unbelievable brilliance, mangroves, and mahogany, towered over us, surrounded us, and dripped on us. Hidden amongst their roots the boa constrictors, mountain chickens (a frog) and termites continued their lives uninterrupted.

The original inhabitants of these lands, the Caribs, are still here. Proud of their heritage, and maintaining their traditions, our guide, Shadow (everyone has a nickname out here) drove us around his island. From rain forest to beach, village to waterfall, we enjoyed them all. We ate cassava bread, fresh cooked on an open fire, drank coconut milk (from both fresh green coconuts and brown nuts), and learnt how the banana tree only produces one hand of fruit in its lifetime.

From Dominica it was a great sail under a blue sky to the beautiful islands of Les Saintes - the only islands in the Caribbean never to have had slaves working in the fields. It was great to catch-up with friends again. "Ganhoa" with Louis and Jose, from Portugal were there….. well it would be rude not to invite them on board.

No longer am I heading south and west, but up - north! No more "Pirates of the Caribbean. Worse, far worse….to Antigua, and yes, that means the "Tot Club"!

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I'm (back) on the Map!

Good news - I have been able to get my position restored on the Yotreps site (they had "lost" the boat details). You may have to scroll down the list little further, look for my call sign mley4.

Will somebody please get the Weather Gods to read the rule book. I'm still here, in Rodney Bay, sitting out NE 30-35kts for the second day running. Not only that but its cloudy - this is supposed to be de Caribbean Mon!

Who needs Tescos? The boat boys sell everything. It's shopping direct, Carib Style!

There be Pirates!

The great thing about cruising is the people you meet. Everyone pulls together to help each other out. In the Cape Verde Islands I used the local internet cafe and picked-up a computer virus on my memory stick. Sadly it not only infected the computers on board but has corrupted all my photos. I just hope that there is some way to recover them on my return.

The good news is that thanks to the crew of Jinja I'm back in business. Computer is mended, camera is working, and new photos will be uploaded. Normal blog is now resumed! This photo of a dodgy looking character was taken on St Vincent in Wallilabou Bay....the Set is still there, now sadly dilapidated, like so much in the Caribbean, but worth the visit.

Back home gulls sitting in the rigging can be a big nuisance. Out here there are no gulls, Frigate birds yes, Pelicans, even parrots too, but these cause no problem, so I was amazed to look up to see, perched on the windvane above the anemometer was an Osprey! Polite requests for it to move received the same steely stare as shouts, arm waving, and stumping feet. Only as a crowd gathered did it stretch its wings and gracefully lift-off to continue his quest for lunch over the rich fishing ground of the lagoon.

The Round the Island Race

I never race my boat – but this was St Lucia, and the crew were good, Liat and Assaf, from Israel, Matt from Bristol, and me. We, just happened to have been sat in the bar when the skippers briefing took place. Well it would have been churlish to have said no……..

A down wind start; no flag signals; questionable sound signals; and we were away. Avocette made a good start, and powered down towards Pidgeon Island at a none too shabby 6kts in the 18kt tradewind. The beat around the top of the island saw us in 4th place with 22 miles to the days finish at Vieux Fort.

Then the wind died. No-one made the finish. Those who motored all the way were rewarded with a Roti dinner.

The next day, those who had made Vieux Fort started Leg 2 in little or no wind. Two boats finally crossed the line to finish. Liat and Assaf, having left Avocette after we “retired”, caught a bus the length of the island, hopped on another boat and came in second. So we had a party anyway. Thanks St Lucia Yacht Club.

Erupting Volcanoes to Roti Lunch

We were a mixed bunch from Finland, The Faeroes, Iceland, Spain, and England, with Charlie Brown, our driver from St Lucia. Playing grockles was the plan….

The muddy pools by my feet bubbled and spat. Steam rose, and the stench of rotten eggs, Hydrogen Sulphide, filled my nostrils as we surveyed the scene around us. We were walking through the volcano above the town of Soufriere, St Lucia.

The barren earth, stained yellow with sulphur, is only a thin crust. Beneath it, the hot mud and boiling water continually rise from the molten magma just a mile below; a reminder to all, that this volcano is waiting to erupt. Just a couple of miles away, under the sea, lies another. It too, is smouldering away, rising each year ever closer to the surface, soon to become another island in Caribbean.

St Lucia’s most famous landmarks are the Pitons. These great volcanic blocks rising spectacularly from the sea 2619ft, remnants of earlier eruptions, are even more awesome to sail past.

Marigot Bay, the classic Island anchorage, and hurricane hole, is set deep within a steep sided valley, protected from the sea by a sandy palm-tree covered spit. Changed forever, it is now full of moorings, and a marina - complete with hotels. The waterside bars are still there, but it’s changing.

Rodney Bay, a small marina in a mud-hole of a lagoon when I first arrived in 2004, is now a bustling and vibrant place, offering all the facilities and services, and is surrounded by luxury homes, hotels, and restaurants. Deep in the lagoon there is still room to anchor. Fish, hundreds of fish, even sharks, swim around the boat, and it’s not just the mangrove roots that stretch into the water here; if I don’t move on soon ……..

Repair and Maintenance

Rodney Bay Marina has changed dramatically since I was last here in 2004 after my first Trans-Atlantic on Swan Dancer. It's now a big, busy, and thriving marina. Superyachts come and go. Services are excellent ( Alwin Augustin is a great mechanic) and all are on site - but it comes at a cost; marina fees are European prices.

I shall be here for a couple more days as I want to see the Island.

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Swimming with Turtles

Sailing in the Caribbean is all blue skies, warm steady breezes with cotton-wool clouds drifting by….. Wrong! It rains here. Every day. Heavy showers fall from leaden skies in gusts that can reach 28kts. Despite that we’ve had a lot of fun. Sue Clutton joined in Grenada and we have sailed North, stopping at Carriacou, then Union Is, and the Tobago Cays.

Salt Whistle Bay in the corner of Mayreau Is. is a stunning anchorage in the Tobago Cays National Marine Park. Creeping around the reef, and up to the beach, we dropped the hook in just 3m, then swum ashore to sit under the palm trees that stretched over the turquoise water lapping around our toes. We enjoyed that cold beer.

The Cays were awesome. Slipping into the crystal clear waters it wasn’t long before turtles surrounded us. Big leatherback turtles looked us in the eye, as curious of us as we were of them. Quietly we watched them feed as fish of all colours, patterns, shape and size darted around us. The open patches of sand were littered with big starfish. Stingrays cruised through, and barracuda kept a steely vigil on all that went on.

This is pirate country. Jonny Depp style. It was here they were marooned. Moving just a few miles further north we dropped the anchor in Wallalibou bay and tied the stern to the same jetty that JD stepped onto. Much of the film set is still there, along with costumes and tales…….

The cruising lifestyle wasn’t for Roy. He is returning home.. He missed all the treats of the Cays, leaving them to Sue Clutton and me.

We are now in St Lucia. Marigot Bay has changed beyond belief. The snug anchorage and hurricane hole at the head of the bay is now full of moorings and pontoons. The anchorage is busy, the bars and restaurants are lively, and the rain is very, very wet…..

Reflections on “The Crossing”, and The Spice Island.

Slipping out of Mindelo, in the Cabo Verde, had been farewell to the safety of being close to land. There would be no port of refuge. Now the wind was behind us. The nearest land was below, 5 miles below. There would be no anchoring, no “stopping for the night”, no “nipping out for a beer”. We would be on our own. On our own for the next two thousand two hundred miles.

The crew was a good one. John Shaw, RNLI Helmsman from the Portsmouth Lifeboat, boat builder from Southsea Marina, and friend, had flown out to Ilha da Sal to find we had sailed on to Sao Vincente and had left him a ticket for a connecting flight – which he missed! Still, it gave him a chance to see the Island and have a swim.

On board the routine was the same each day, three hours on, six hours off. Six hours for sleep, and your daily round of duties; cleaning the boat, checking for signs of wear or gear failures, then making repairs, making lunch, afternoon tea (with biscuits of course), and preparing then cooking the evening meal, before, of course, the washing up….. if you had time you could read a book.

Sailing relies on the weather. The Trades were late this year, but we had been watching and waiting. The forecast was promising. Puffy white clouds were drifting west. The weather was settling down. The Trade Winds were starting to blow.

The SSB radio was fantastic. Each day I was able to download synoptic charts from around the world: Northwood UK, Lunenburg Nova Scotia, and New Orleans. I could even request Grib files for ‘my’ area of the North Atlantic, and have them delivered at 0600hrs daily. Then there was Herb.

Herb was fantastic. The routine is the same every day. At 1930hrs UT, I would switch on the SSB, tune to 12359.0 USB, and log in: “Southbound 2 Southbound 2 Avocette Avocette standing by”.

2000 miles away, in Ottawa, Herb Hilgenberg runs a daily Net for yachtsmen in the North Atlantic. As you log in Herb, sitting at his radio with computers at his side, records all the vessels. Then, starting in the Gulf of Mexico, he tunes his antenna to each individual boat in turn. He talks to you about your position and your actual weather, then gives you a forecast for the next 24hrs,and advises you where to go for the most favourable conditions. Like so many yachtsmen, I am indebted to him for his help, and friendly guidance. I shall certainly be logging in again on the return trip.

Listening in to Herb also enabled us to track our friends on Solstice, Free Spirit, Transcendence, and Allua, and note their positions – had we got passed them?!!!
Sitting here, at anchor in Prickly Bay, Grenada, we are all back together. We have tales to tell, the bar is open, and a New Year to celebrate.

Grenada

Only a hundred miles north of Trinidad and Tobago, and the continent of South America, lies Grenada, the Spice Island.

Our tour, with friendly local, Joseph, took us into the countryside. We stopped, picked, and ate, strange fruit. We watched farmers, machete in hand, working the land, crops of many types of bananas, sugar cane, tamarind, sorrel, and spices being grown. We stopped at a café for lunch, enjoyed local food, Roti’s, plantain, breadfruit, and local fish chicken or lambie, some we had never seen before. Then it was up into the rain forest to the waterfalls, on to the Nutmeg Processing factory , the River Rum distillery, and the Chocolate factory………….Mmmmm.

Grenada seems different to other islands in the Caribbean. It’s very friendly, with little crime, but boy does it know how to rain! Torrential downpours soak everything. Then the sun dries it up. The rainy season should be over. It should have given way to the dry season, but even here things aren’t as predictable as they used to be.

Dress Code: Shorts, plus t-shirt at night.

There was just a hint of orange in the grey sky, a soft grey that crept slowly out of the east. First it was the Milkyway, then the more distant, paler, stars that disappeared. Puffy balls of cotton-wool, so typical of tradewind clouds slowly turned, with the dawn, from black to white. It had been one of those magical nights that only the open ocean can bring. A toe-nail of a moon had sunk into the west early on leaving the heavens ablaze. The freshening breeze from the east-north-east had pushed us towards our goal, and now day was breaking. The sun silently creeping out to reveal the nights casualties, Flying fish, some as big as 7 inches, others barely an inch long littered the deck, one, two, three,…twelve this morning.

These waters seem to teem with life. Still no big whales. Common, Spotted, and Long-nosed Spinner dolphins, had come to guide us on our way. Pilot whales have escorted us too. In the air Great Shearwaters, Storm Petrels, and some like black faced gannets have inquisitively followed the boat, each defining their mastery of the air before leaving us to enjoy our sailing.

Africa is now 2320 miles astern, the Cabo Verde 1900 miles. Grenada lies ahead just 250 miles away.

It's blowing 25-30kts with 5m seas - fabulous to watch. Each blue roller lifts Avocette's stern to its foaming white crest, then we surf down its face, spray flying, and the water turns turquoise. The reefed headsail all we need; speeds from 6-9kts as we ride the waves send us ever closer to that beer…………..

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It's NOT the Pond1

It's the North Atlantic Ocean, and big, very big, and we are in the middle of it.

We are 1086 miles from the Cabo Verde, with 1090 miles to go. The Trades are NE 16-25kts, giving us 6-7.5 kts with reefed main and staysail, and seas of 3 - 3.5m. We are heading due west for Grenada.

The night skies are awesome - wall-to-wall stars. The days are classic tradewind conditions, blue skies with cotton-wool clouds,blue, blue sea.

Long-nose spinner dolphins entertain us, flying fish abound. Fishing is good, Mahi-Mahi for tea tonight.

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Supper in the Sun

Out here I choose when it gets dark, so we sit in the cockpit and have supper as the sun sets! Then it's time to tune in to Herb on the SSB radio. "Southbound 2" is a wonderful weather-routing service provided by Herb in Ottawa, and he customises it for each boat. It also means that we can keep track of our friends on other boats.

We had lots of Long-nosed Spinner Dolphins today, loads of flying fish, plus some Great shearwaters and storm petrels.

Fishing is great, big Mahi-Mahi.

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Happy New Year

We are 340M out from the Cabo Verde, with 1858M to go. Winds are light ENE 10-15kts. Fishing is good - 3 Mahi-mahi so far. Dolphins on N Yr Eve. Have a great new year.

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