Loving the Dream - Living the Dream; 4 months in.

It’s her name that first catches my eye. Crisp white letters spell out “Living the Dream” on her dove grey transom. The red gold and black of her German ensign flutters above.  Her home port is Hamburg. From the look of her, she’s a 1970’s design, maybe a Van de Stadt, about nine metres, and lovingly maintained.  On the stern, alongside her name and port, is a self-steering wind vane. Clothing for one flutters, drying in the breeze, on the lifelines. It’s an evocative picture. It speaks of a single handed wanderer of the sea, a long way from home, in a cherished boat, living his dream – “his” because the clothes on the rail look as if they belong to a man. Here’s a fellow traveller.

 

 Almost four months, a third of a year, has flown by since Stargazer left Poole, bound for Dartmouth and points south. We sailed on the first of May. We left in spring, as a gale abated, with the summer, and the prospect of new landfalls, ahead of us. Now the gales of the autumn equinox roll in off the Atlantic. We ride out the first in Loctudy and, now the second, here in Brest. Between gales the mornings are chill, misty and heavy with dew; autumn mornings.

 

 I set out on a summer quest to discover what lies beyond the “fortnight cruise;” seeking to experience what it is to cruise, unconstrained, under sail.

 

I begin to see more; to see, rather than to merely look and move on. To be still in mind and body, to notice birds and fish in the anchorages, to admire the changing textures of the water; to drink in the chameleon, sun painted, colours of the cliffs .

It’s more difficult be still in a new port town. I tend to get swept up in the excitement of what’s happening around me; the new sights and sounds. In a port I feed off the energy of its activity. All is fresh, so I notice more. I see everyday things and register them – simply because, on the day of arrival, they aren’t everyday things to me. The filters are off for eyes and mind. “There’s more going on than meets the eye” the saying goes. More of what’s going on meets my eye - it’s one of the pleasures of cruising.

 

Wherever I’ve cruised this summer I’ve met with friendliness and help. Fellow sailors take Stargazer’s lines when we come alongside. Quayside bystanders are patient with my “Franglais” and help me to find my way; go out of their way to suggest sights to see.

I first meet Peter when I berth alongside Anadina in Camaret. We compare passage plans for the Raz and meet in ports, off and on, all the way to the Morbihan; Peter always ready with thoughts for interesting, out of the way, stopovers.
 I meet Pierre through this blog. We rendezvous in Pornichet. Pierre pulls strings to get me a finger berth. We spend the afternoon aboard Stargazer; Pierre thrilling me with his tales of a single handed passage to Scilly, in his immaculate English.
In Ile d’Yeu I meet  the HROA (Hallberg Rassy Owners Association) at large: Chris and Judy on Fire Dragon, Graham and Anne on Dione, Trevor and Pat on Roseabella and Keith and Gina on Aspen. Trevor finds me a berth. All share their South Brittany cruising wisdom over drinks aboard Dione and Fire Dragon.
Anchored in Port Kerel on Belle Ile; I hear a knock on the hull, go up top to investigate and find Martyn alongside. He invites me over to meet Hilary and Sir Francis the drake aboard Styria. Sir Francis turns out to be a decoy duck towed off Styria’s port quarter. Hilary and Martyn turn out to be fellow lovers of craggy Atlantic anchorages. We text each other as we cruise on, meet up to explore the Vilaine together and again for a beach walk in Loctudy.

 

The Sailing itself has been a delight; the freedom to get up in the morning, sniff the breeze, check the tide and simply go. Stargazer has an ability to make the best of the day, whatever the conditions. Be they a white knuckle ride south through the Teignouse passage - waves breaking all around us; tacking through fields of grazing cattle on the Vilaine - grass hoppers chirping in the background; out sailing a First 30 off La Rochelle in a flukey F3;  a beat from Noirmoutier, across the Loire estuary , in a F6 thunderstorm - then riding the tide into the Morbihan and on up the Auray river; a sun spangled reach over jewelled seas from Lorient to Loctudy – the cruising chute bellied before us like a day long, orange, sunrise ; or a beat north round Penmarc'h, in a summery jolie brise (F4)- with playful dolphins for company.

 

The homebound leg of our cruise; the 250 miles from Brest to Poole is, is a part of the dream still to be lived. Our route will be shaped by the wind and the tide.