An English Summer 67

 

Stargazer's dolphin welcome party jump for joy. As delighted to see us, as we are to see them.

Their sleek bodies scythe by, leaping high. Furrowing the sea. Scattering diamonds of spray, as they land.

Gamboling beneath Stargazer's bows. Twisting and turning. At play with us, and each other. As they escort Stargazer, across Mounts Bay. 

This morning, a roseate pre-dawn glow suffused the sky, as we slipped out past Peninnis Head. The tide fair. A gentle breeze ruffling the sea. The prospect, of a day-long downwind sail, before us.

A black pyramid, travelling at an improbable speed, is crossing the far horizon. It is Skorpios, inbound, to take monohull line honours, in the Fastnet Race. She has rounded the famous rock overnight. Then routed west of Scilly, via the Bishop Rock light, for her return.

On AIS, I can see that the main 'club racer' fleet is still outbound. Routing east of the archipelago. Squeezing up through the gap, between the outer isles and the Lands End shipping lanes (which race rules forbid them to enter). Stargazer must chart a clear course, through both the racers, and the merchant ships. 

The sun rises, painting the sea a deep vibrant blue, and setting the cruise liner-cum-tallship, Golden Horizon's, hull aglow; as she steams into the eye of the wind. A place which no sailing vessel can venture unaided. 

Stargazer, sailing in the opposite direction, has the wind dead behind her. Our genoa is poled out to starboard. The boom prevented off (tied off, to prevent it gybing) to port. A stable and effective rig, for a rolly downwind sail.

Its only downside is that it rules out any quick alteration of course, greater than, say, five degrees. As we thread first the race fleet, and then the shipping lanes, a higher, than usual, degree of forward planning is therefore required.  

The Wolf Rock light is abeam, now. We are level with Lands End, through the Fastnet fleet, out of the shipping lanes; able to fully relax.

The tide is about to turn against us and the wind is light . I gybe Stargazer and hoist the cruising chute. The plan is to boost the breeze, using the apparent wind generated on a broad reach; and to reduce the effect of the tide, by dipping down into Mounts Bay, where it will be weaker.

The sudden appearance, of our dolphin welcome party, feels like the heartiest of endorsements, of this gambit. Lifts the mood, as dark clouds mass overhead.

We become part of a pod of swirling, writhing, vivacious playfulness, possessed of an endless ability to entertain. Soon the sun is smiling once more.

Apivia, headed for Cherbourg, to claim the second-monohull-in title, is employing the same tide beating, wind generating tactics as Stargazer. But to rather greater effect. She passes us, inshore, making fourteen knots over the ground, to our three.

We may not have the best boat speed, but we do have the best of company.

Splash landing dolphins, surround us. On into the afternoon.

Diving to one side, dodging the keel, resurfacing the other. Or simply sporting beneath the bow, in an endless effervescent game. 

Ahead, Rambler 88 shaves the Lizard fine, then gybes her gargantuan asymetric spinnaker, before diving deep into Falmouth Bay. Riding the early turn of the tide, in beneath the cliffs. Bound for a, line honours, Fastnet third (monohull) placing.

Stargazer follows in Rambler's wake. Instead of a knot (or so) of tide against us, we now have a knot (or so) helping us along. Lifting our apparent wind. Four knots, five, six knots over the ground. Cruising speed! Round the craggy headland we sweep, out of the Western Approaches and into sheltered waters.

Our Mounts Bay dolphins have stayed their side of the Lizard. Gone to find a new playmate. We sail on, alone, toward the Manacles, with only the hum of the breeze and the tune of Stargazer's rippling wake, for company.

Around the Manacles reef mark, the water boils, white. Clouds of gulls wheel, swoop, dive, rise, dive again. Their strident calls, and beating wings, fill the air. A pod of dolphins arrows past. On a mission. Scenting food. Hunting, this time, not playing.

Line abreast, in ranks, from the surface downward, as deep as the eye can see, the phalanx sweeps in toward the shoal of fish. It is supper time.

Stargazer hardens up, around the tip of the reef, and lays the Helford River, in one tack. The setting sun casts a mellow welcoming glow, across its rolling Cornish meadows, ancient woodland and tall cliffs. This feels like a homecoming.

Fourteen hours out from St Mary's, Stargazer anchors, in her favoured place, beneath the bluff. I tumble, gratefully, into my bunk . Where images, of our dolphin filled day, inspire my dreams