Up Channel 6

 

Stargazer treads a cinnabar dawn. Tiptoeing across seas lightly ruffled by a somnolent breeze.

Headed for the North Foreland. Its chalk cliffs are blanketing the wind. But its Longnose reef compensates, by diverting the last of the southbound tide to seaward. 

Allowing Stargazer to inch her way along, tight inshore. Close beneath the lighthouse.

Into the mouth of the London river. Where the breeze clears.

In Margate road, anchored merchantmen slowly swing, to face the new stream. For the tide is on the turn.

Those outermost are now facing east. The flood has begun. Granting Stargazer a fair tide, for the Medway. 

Stargazer stands, stately as a Spanish treasure galleon, into the Thames estuary. In ten knots of breeze with a making tide beneath her.

Shaping a course for the ancient stone towers, at Reculver. Which stand proud above the rolling, green, tree studded countryside. Daymarks for the entrance to the 'overland route,' across the shoals of the north Kent shore.

I break out the last of the 'Channel' fruit cake, Bart at the helm. Eating whilst watching the depth guage. As the tide adds, not only speed, but much needed depth, beneath Stargazer's keel.

To seaward, the wind turbines, off Whitstable, spin ever faster. Beyond, a stream of shipping steams purposefully along the Knock John Channel.

Down to leeward, the Darjeeling tinged, waters of the Swale. Rich but ‘thin.’ With the low cliffs, of the Isle of Sheppey, rising from them. Crumbly as my lunchtime fruitcake.

Stargazer has the spiky skyline clutter, of Sheerness docks, in her sights now. Gusts roll across Sheppey. We hang on to full sail, making better than seven knots. Waiting to see how the wind settles, once around Garrison Point.

I tuck a reef in, as Stargazer thunders up the Medway. The wind funneling, at twenty one knots, between its banks. She tacks her way upriver, in long, tide assisted boards. Sweeping past two, motoring, Westerly's in the Darnet narrows. Their crews turn, to wave Stargazer a hearty welcome home.

Stargazer is in from the sea. Seven months after she left, for her shake down cruise. Six, since departing for Spanish shores. On her grandest adventure yet.

Up Channel 5

 

Stargazer is surveyed by the vigilant eyes of the port control tower.

Perched upon the seawall. With its panoramic view.

Looking out over the beach. Where expectant metal-detectorists prospect and dogs are briskly exercised.

With chalk cliffs, stretching away north. To the Foreland. Lapped by the clear blue seas of the Channel.

Within the harbour walls, craft of all kinds cluster, in a companionable melee. Making preparation for winter, under a warm sun.

Pilot boats wait, ready for the call to put to sea. To guide a deep laden merchant-man, into the wharves of the London River, or on toward Felixstowe's container port.

Tomorrow's forecast speaks of a building southerly breeze. Suitable to carry Stargazer to the Medway. A passage for which the tides also serve.

Up Channel 4

 

Stargazer scuds east. Over a heaped indigo sea. The moon just set. The hiss of her bow wave, and the spatter of spray sweeping the deck, the only sounds. Save for the swish of the waves and the song of the wind.

The orange glow, on the horizon, pinkens and then yellows ; the night-blue, of water and sky lighten. Definition and detail sharpen around us. As the sun peers, above the world's rim.

Stargazer gleefully throws rose tinted showers of spray skyward. Away to leeward, the sandstone bluff, beneath which Hastings nestles. A static silhouette, sandwiched between chimeral sea and sky.

Long shadows flick across its weather-riven face, to congregate in the woodland of its hanging valley. 

With one final defiant headland, the land falls away. To the low gravel shores of Rye Bay.

The distant Dungeness power station and its lines of pylons, marching inland, the only features visible, above the undulating wave caps.

Two tides meet. Seas boil and break. The wind picks up to twenty two knots. Dungeness is a desolate uneasy spot. Even on a sunny autumn day.

Stargazer shoulders her way through the confusion. Riding the rapidly flowing spring tide. Bearing off for Dover, and the lee of Dungeness spit, as soon as she is able.

The waters soon calm, as Stargazer streaks by Folkestone. Making seven knots over the ground.

Bart helms. Whilst I brew coffee and eat 'doorstep' peanut butter sandwiches, in the companionway. Watching a Royal Navy frigate, holding station. Always in the eye of the sun, always exactly bow on to Stargazer. Until it steams off west. Seemingly satisfied.

I radio Dover Port Control, for permission to cross their twin entrances. As the ferries bustle to and fro beneath the castle, atop Vera Lynn's white cliffs.

On, to South Foreland, Stargazer sweeps. Tight in beneath the sheer chalk face. Making for the Gull stream (channel through the Goodwin Sands). On a dead run. The wind, both true and apparent, dropping. Three knots of tide sustaining our speed.

Stargazer arrives in Ramsgate, in time to take afternoon tea. Eaten in shorts and polo shirt, under Indian Summer conditions. With my old friend, Roger. Stargazer in her favourite spot, beneath the round granite lighthouse.

Up Channel 3

 

An English autumn day, in Eastbourne. Trees aflame, in their seasonal finery. Phone booths, red as a beefeater’s tunic, standing sentry duty. Before a hare-eared church tower.

Fish & Chips is served, naturally.

Or, if preferred, tea on the terrace is available across the street.

Beneath Union Jacks, aflutter on a Georgian facade.

With views of the glittering golden domes, of the pleasure pier. Which paddles, straight legged, in the briny. Trouser cuffs figuratively rolled.

Serried ranks, of weathered wooden groynes, hold the beach shingle in place. Lest the sea, on stormier days, should carry it off, along the shore.

Today, the winds are light, the waters calm.

Tomorrow, the forecast is for a passage-making breeze. With tides set fair, Stargazer watches and waits.

Up Channel 2

Out with copper-headed Rusty and in with Black Bart. Glinting like a pirate's ebony peg-leg. The tiller-pilot drive ram, out in all weathers, extra-hard worked on this cruise, seemed the most likely point of failure (see En France 92 & Up Channel 1). Because the header unit is reading and responding correctly. And the below-decks black-box brain has all its LED's lit. 

So it proves. Simple to slot in, Bart starts work immediately. His polarity (sense of port and starboard) the same as Rusty's. Stargazer has her silent crew member back on board. Her skipper relieved forthwith of helming duties. The better to navigate, trim sails, cook, eat, take photographs, visit the heads and all manner of sundry tasks. Taken for granted, until they can no longer be carried out . RIP, Rusty-the-reliable. Pictured here 'in happier times,' off Honfleur. Long live buccaneering Bart!

"I get all the news I need on the weather report," has been as true for me, this summer, as it was for Paul Simon's 'Only Living Boy in New York.' Listening to the BBC, I discover that, whilst Stargazer has been at sea, change has been afoot at home : A king has been crowned ; A clown evicted, from Downing Street ; And the currency crashed, to fund tax cuts for fat cats. Which are then cancelled.

 Meanwhile the redoubtable Ukranians are rolling back the tanks, of the robber-baron from Russia . Stargazer still wears their yellow and blue colours, in solidarity.

Stargazer may be in a UK port, but she is not home yet. Weather watching is therefore still high on our priorities. Autumn has definitely come early, this season. The low pressure systems racing through. Bringing with them a choice of wind directions and strengths.

Thirty five knots, out of the southwest, would make for a lumpy ride off Dungeness, today. That will be followed by a light westerly and a passage making southerly. The tides also turning fair, for the weekend.

 

Up Channel 1

On reflection, I did Sovereign harbour an injustice, when I wrote it off as a mere "marine shopping mall" (During Stargazer's 'An English Summer' cruise in 2021). As a port to enter solo, with the auto pilot down, in a strongly building south westerly (see En France 92), it has few peers. If any.

Hurtling in, from Beachy Head, twenty seven knots of breeze on the quarter, surfing in a heavy swell, I was faced with a conundrum. Namely, how to rig lines and fenders and dowse sails?  Tasks, which I would normally carry out, whilst the autopilot steered Stargazer. In the conditions, motoring slow astern (which would hold Stargazer stern to wind and wave, without any steering input) was not a viable option.

The solution lay in the design of Sovereign's entrance. Strictly speaking, the approach should be from the safe-water mark, on a line just south of the wreck buoy and two green cans, to the pier heads. Directly into the south west breeze. BUT there was depth enough to bring Stargazer in on an arc, under sail, instead : I furl the jib, as we harden up, to shoot the entrance. Starting the engine, and letting fly the main halyard, as Stargazer slips into the lee of the breakwater. Head to wind, mainsail aflutter.

In an instant, the heaving waters calm. The roar of the wind quiets to a whisper. Seal pups stare inquisitively. Wondering at the commotion.

Stargazer is safe to drift, for the breathless moments which it takes to rig three fenders and a midship line. All that will be required, to make her fast in the lock.

We motor sedately in, through open gates. (Sovereign alternates its two locks. One is always available to incoming vessels. Whilst the other is on 'turn around.'). Inside, in a tranquil peace, I am able to stow the mainsail tidily and to rig six lines and six fenders. Which are Stargazer's preferred setup, for approaching an unfamiliar finger berth.

Within the harbour, Stargazer secures behind the lifeboat. Joining a Manx Shearwater, a pelagic offshore bird, blown in by the gathering gale. Or perhaps one of its several predecessors. Enjoying the total shelter, offered by those tall lock gates. 

It is the perfect environment, in which to tend to our unsung hero, of the helm. I am quickly on the phone to 'Psi Paul.' (Who sees to Stargazer's electrical well being). Checks are run. A diagnosis made. Parts are currently being couriered, care of the lock keeper. Fingers are crossed, for their speedy arrival ; and efficacy once fitted.