Ad Lib 129

 

A surfaced nuclear submarine slides silently by. Stealth incarnate. The menacing form emerges silently from thick swirls of sea fog. Its presence explaining the strangely insistent circling of two, near invisible, grey warships.

A matt black aquatic Batmobile closes fast from astern. Surveying Stargazer from her quarter. Its cockpit canopy is thown open. An incongruously smiling sailor, dressed casually in a T-shirt, politely asks our intentions. "Au Nord." I reply. "Ca Marche." The canopy snaps shut.

The furtive flotilla recedes. Merging with the gloom. Bound, no doubt, through the Goulet de Brest and into Le Fret naval base. Home of the French seaborne nuclear deterrent.

Dark billows eclipsed the morning sun, soon after Stargazer left Moulin Blanc. On her way out of the Rade de Brest. Aiming to make best use of three available fair tides. The first of which is the Brest ebb.

At the foot of the Chenal du Four, the monochrome shroud is temporarily lifted. Stargazer now clear of the secretive naval shenanigans. We turn north. As promised. The second fair tide of the day gathering pace beneath us.

By mid afternoon it is clear that the fog will not 'burn off by mid morning.' As Stargazer's skipper had expected. Although hot summer sunshine steadily whittles away at it. Blue skies are visible above.Waterproofs are shed. Shade is sought. But, at sea level, visibility remains, at best, between one and two hundred metres.

For seventy nautical miles Stargazer skims the spectacularly craggy Finistère shoreline. Skirting the feet of the mighty Le Four, Ile Vierge and Ile de Batz lighthouses. . . . .

With only the most occasional glimpse of land. Those toward evening. When the murk finally begins to thin. Stargazer by then making a steady seven to eight knots. Swept east by the final, and fairest, tide of the trio.

Down we dive, into Roscoff. As the last embers, of the sun, throw aside the gauzy veil. To reveal the shores of Finistère in all their rugged glory.

Picture Credits

Stargazer track screenshot courtesy of MarineTraffic.com

Ad Lib 128

 

British round the world racer, Dee Caffari, is back aboard IDEC Sport. After co-skippering Alexia Barrier's all-female Jules Verne record run last winter.

A circumnavigation hampered by a series of mainsail problems. Initially with the halyard lock. Which caused the huge sail to stick at half mast. Risking capsize, if attempting to reef down, during Southern Ocean storms. Or slowed progress, if subsequently trying to raise full sail.

Repairs were not possible. Despite many attempts. The drastic measure of crash gybing, to loosen the recalcitrant lock, was instead resorted to. This ultimately led to the destruction of the mainsail. IDEC claiming her record with just the tattered remnants of the head hoist.

In conditions a far cry from Moulin Blanc’s glassy seas. Which prove ideal to run its successor up the rig.To test the operation of the replacement halyard lock.

The sail does not, from various chafe marks, appear to be fresh from the loft. 

Although it cannot be as old as the maker's mark, at its head, might indicate. Membrane technology did not exist in 1961! Then, the pinnacle of innovation was substitution of cotton for Dacron.

Dee is on the handles, of the coffee-grinder winches, to raise the sail. Joined by a succession of helpers. Who rotate, for respite, as Dee winds on in the hot sunshine. Alexia is slighter of stature and will have no crew aboard. In either the Route du Rhum (trans Atlantic) or Arkea Ultim Challenge (round the world) races.

Famously, Francis Joyon, fitted a bicycle aboard IDEC. When he set the 2017 Trophée Jules Verne record - which stood for nine years. The machine enabled him to use his leg muscles to propel the winches. As a more powerful alternative to his shoulders. Alexia is evidently installing a contemporary, all carbon, iteration.

Meanwhile, on a rather more mundane level: The forecasts indicate that Stargazer's best chance, of a fair breeze around Finistère, is tomorrow. When tidal flows will also be favourable.

Ad Lib 127

 

A colony of tuneful terns sings soothing lullabies. Their melodies, floating through Stargazer's open hatches, fill the air.

The breeze, for now, is not suited to further passage making. In either strength or direction. Although the tides are favourable

It is a 'harbour jobs' day.

With musical accompaniment.

Ad Lib 126

 

Sheets and sails hang limp. Smoke, from the skipper's roll up, rises vertically. As a Breton lugger silently leaves her berth. 

Once the impetus, of a stout parting shove, is lost progress slows. No zephyr stirs. The tide hangs, on the turn. A sculling sweep is vigorously plied.

Imparting sufficient way to clear Alexia's two trimarans:

The Ultim IDEC Sport (see Ad Lib 125) and her smaller, rapier bowed, MOD 70 training boat.

The lugger pounces eagerly upon a catspaw of breeze. Her sails fill. The black hull heels, swiftly gathering momentum.

She scampers for arches of L'Elorn bridge. Making for the wooded meanders, which lie upstream.

Ad Lib 125

 

In the end (see Ad Lib 124) Stargazer makes her landfall before sunset. Securing beside Alexia Barrier's Ultim IDEC Sport. Freshly relaunched after a pre Route du Rhum refit.

 Dawn was a fiery glow below the horizon. When we left Loctudy, with the fishing fleet.

The cruising chute is swiftly deployed, to harness a promising easterly breeze.

As Stargazer slaloms the craggy pinnacles which stud our shortest route.

To the Pointe de Penmarc'h.

Whose troupe of playful and acrobatic dolphins circle and leap. After a few futile attempts at photography, Stargazer's skipper resolves to sit back and enjoy their company.

The twin towers, guardians of Penmarc’h, dwindle astern. Until they are mere matchsticks on the horizon. An unexpected eddy, of fair tide, carrying us deep into Audierne bay.

Stargazer is over two hours ahead of schedule, as she approaches her skipper's decision point. 

We press on through the Raz de Sein. With several hours of foul tide to push (because our early arrival) in this notoriously fast flowing strait. Stargazer's ground speed drops below two knots.

Inch by inch Stargazer ekes her way through. Finally bringing La Vieille abeam. Slowly gathering way once more. Dragging herself free from the aquatic quagmire.

We are back up to full cruising speed, as we close the wave pierced, multi-coloured cliffs, of the Crozon.

The wind now on our port quarter, having backed south westerly. Stargazer threads her way through. . . .

. . . .the Toulinguet gap. Gateway to the Rade de Brest.

With the beaches of Moulin Blanc at its head.

Ad Lib 124

 The portents are good. Tomorrow's is a neap tide. Which turns fair, in the Raz de Sein, around five in the afternoon.

The breeze, eleven to sixteen knots, is expected to be from the east. Off the land. Increasing the probability of a smooth sea state.

At an angle, until Stargazer reaches the Raz at any rate, which would allow us to fly the kite. If required, to maintain speed.

South of the Raz, Stargazer's skipper will have a decision to make: Stop in Sainte Evette; or press on, for an overnight landfall in Brest. 

Based upon how our breeze is holding up and Stargazer's rate of progress, during the day.

Ad Lib 123

 

First alongside is Marie Claude. Her quietly spoken skipper soon chatting amiably, to the man from the Capitainerie.

On hand in ‘Le Zodiac’ (this one an aluminium workboat). As he is for all new arrivals, within the confines of Loctudy's tightly packed, tide-swept pontoons. But with nothing to do, on this occasion. 

Save for admire the tousle-topped master. Who silently guides his cadets to execute the perfect landing. A pointed finger here. A reassuring hand on the shoulder there. A deft nudging of the throttle, at a pivotal moment.

Sister ship, Yseult, is not far behind. Her crew, mustered on the foredeck, are soon sweating in her docklines.

Before taking a moment to savour their sylvan surroundings. As they make the sweeping teak decks shipshape.

Minstrel completes the trio. Smaller in stature. Yet no less striking, with her brightwork aglow in the afternoon sun.

Good News, so the saying goes, Comes In Threes