A Pretty little place – Even in the Rain

Leaving Camaret, we had a lovely sail, past rugged cliffs, and through the rocks, to Douarnenez, a town steeped in fishing history. The big trawlers head out in all weathers, and locals line the harbour walls, shoulder to shoulder - even in the rain. The water teams with life. Vast shoals of immature fish so dense they obscure the view through the crystal clear waters are a feast for the big mackereaux, and horse mackerel that abound.

The generator packing-up saw us weighing anchor and heading from the bay, into the harbour in search of a mechanic. My diagnosis of pump failure was only partially correct – it was an electrical failure in the genset, quickly diagnosed and sorted by a friendly local. So now we sit, and wait, for the weather.

It’s been raining on and off, so heading off into the countryside has not appealed. Heading south into Biscay hasn’t appealed either! Hurricanes in the Atlantic, spiralling across to wreak their havoc in the Caribbean and up the eastern seaboard of the US before turning their attention east, and racing across towards us, have upset the Jetstream and prematurely ended our summer. The resulting strong winds and big seas have thwarted our plans. We don’t fancy cross seas with 3-4m swells, and the forecast saying rough or very rough! We wait. We are looking for a four or five day weather window to see us safely across Biscay to La Coruna, NW Spain.

Maybe tomorrow, or Friday….

Tail Walking to Le Four

All good cruising adventures seem to start holed up in Yarmouth, sitting out a gale, and this trip has proved no exception.

With the balmy days of summer long forgotten, and blown along by chilly NW’erlies , we escaped the clutches of the Solent, enjoyed stunning views of the Jurassic Coast of Dorset, the night life of Dartmouth, and a spectacular display of synchronised swimming, with leaps, summersaults, and tail-walking, by a pair of White Cheeked Oceanic Dolphin we headed south in search of perpetual summer.

The flashes of the mighty light houses of Brittany heralded our arrival. As dawn broke we nosed our way through the rocks and picked up a buoy in the river at L’Aber Wrac’h whilst we waited for the tide to take us down the Chenal du Four, with its mighty lights, Le Four, La Jument, and, a little further south, Ar Men.
Nestled in the cliffs, guarding the Rade de Brest, we wait in the ancient town of Camaret, complete with its stone circle, for the weather window to cross Biscay.

The Moules are good here.

Refit completed, bank balance depleted - but life is good

A chance meeting last November swept me off my feet, my head in the clouds – literally!

Avocette was secure alongside the pontoon at the Folly Inn, Cowes. Sat quietly down below, Pete, Graham, Robin and me, were enjoying a glass or two of bubbly and a piece of magic cake to celebrate my birthday. “Avocette”, the hail announced the arrival of another boat intent on starting Christmas early! Introductions over, they headed for the pub – the best dressed ‘Father’ Christmases that ever you did see! – followed shortly by us. Well it would have been rude not to!. An evening of good food,the odd sherbet, and dancing on the tables in good company ensued. I finally bade our new-found friends adieu when Avocette’s booze locker suffered an unexpected drought..

Enjoying a cuppa the next morning, and chatting over the guardrails with the Ali, owner and skipper, of our new found friends boat next door revealed her other love – hot air ballooning.

“Tomorrows forecast: Light & shite, going flying, be there!” read Monday’s email. I didn’t need any persuading, and so it was that, to the roar of the burners, I took to the skies. My first Hot Air Balloon flight – awesome.

Hot air rises. It’s what enables balloons to fly….. and gliders to soar on thermals. My kid’s gave me a course in gliding too. Sitting snugly, parachute strapped to my back, and me to the seat, the tug aircraft towed us across the field, into the air, and at 2000ft, I released the tow, we banked away in-search of thermals. The Channel and Eastbourne ahead, then, banking right, Brighton, Lewis, then Uckfield. Below was Darvel Wood, a photo opportunity for sure.

Three flights later, I was getting the hang it. “Shall we try something a bit more exciting?” my instructor asked, “How about a stall?” “I did that twice on the last flight”, I replied. “What about a loop then?” he said. He demonstrated, then I did it. Dropping the nose we accelerated, from 55kts, through 70, 90, and at 110kts, holding the stick gently between thumb and forefinger, I eased it back. The nose came, up, up. The horizon sank. Blue sky, clouds, the G force… and over.

Back on terra firma Avocette was being stripped bare. A major refit. Rig out, rigging replaced. New canvass work, sails, engine, generator, everything serviced, replaced, and tested, ready for our next adventure.

Our departure date was July 1st, then the 8th, then just July, now it’s soon.

We, that’s me with Graham, are heading for the Mediterranean, then The Gambia, and across the Atlantic. Friends and family are joining for various times on the voyage, ‘be nice if you came too, give us a call.