A French flagged thirty footer rolls and swoops her way southbound from the Foreland. Mainsail doused, her genoa all she needs to drive her.
If the north wind has dropped, from yesterday, it is not by much. White horses still streak the opaline seas, beneath the whirling blades of the windfarm.
The Frenchman lies rolling uncomfortably off the harbour mouth. Genoa furled, beam on to the waves, lined up on the approach channel. No doubt, in these post Brexit / mid pandemic times, the vhf conversation, with Ramsgate Port Control, is more than the usual brief formality. (I was asked to declare Stargazer's last port, when we called up on Thursday - the first time that has occurred). At last the French boat is given permission to enter shelter. To join a German flagged ketch, in from Ijmuiden, yellow 'Q' (quarantine) flag flying at her cross trees, on the outermost pontoon. With the boat towed in by the RNLI yesterday, moored astern of her.
Tomorrow's forecasts still speak of an easterly force three to five. A fair wind on which to slip out of harbour and to head north.
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