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Overnight, Nemo reduces the Estacade (pier) de Sainte-Adresse to matchwood. Once rendered in oils, by Claude Monet, Raoul Dufy, Albert Marquet et al, its shattered timbers are consigned to a skip. By a bulldozer operating at low water. 

By contrast, Stargazer escapes lightly. Nemo’s toll, a mere tattering to the tails of her courtesy flags. Meanwhile, the improvised mooring arrangements, of her neighbour, have seen her through unscathed. The choice, of her sheet winches and mast as their anchor points, succeeding in its aim of adding strength whilst avoiding chafe.

Through the day, winds have dropped to thirty knots. Tomorrow and Thursday they are expected to fall to twenty five. Maybe less. Maybe sooner. Perhaps later.

The trick will be to find the sweet spot, for passage-making. Before our breeze falls away completely. A process complicated by the requirement, to give the Police aux Frontieres (PaF) forty eight hours notice, to come to the marina to stamp us out. Which is incompatible with Stargazer's standard 'dawn decision' strategy, in such changeable circumstances.

One thing is for certain, it will pay us to put in our northing at the same time as our easting. By crossing to Eastbourne rather than sailing to Dieppe. For, once Nemo's influence has passed, we seem set for a lengthy spell of northerly winds. A fair breeze, once on the English shore. But foul for a crossing from France.

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White water rears high, in the Le Havre entrance. Swept in by a storm with no name. This steady forty five knots, of westerly wind, fifty in the squalls, is a Nemo, rather than an Alma or an Amy, so far as the UK Met Office's naming protocol is concerned. 

The port pilots batter their way out to anchored merchantmen. Dave and Nige's ferry left this morning. But no cargo ships stir. A thunderous roar of surf mingles with the shriek of the wind.

Stargazer's forward hatches are battened down. Against the spatter of spray drift, from waves scaling the harbour wall. Her lines creak, as she surges with their scend. Our neighbour (a sadly neglected First 25, brought in by the lifeboat two days ago) chafed through her stern line. Breaking loose, to her own and Stargazer's mutual peril. Until she is secured, by repurposing her furling line and mainsheet.

It seems that the jet stream has come south, to hover directly over the Baie de Seine. Sending swift moving, upper altitude, air flows spinning down to sea level. Leaving Stargazer wondering where it may next alight.

Picture Credits

Jet Stream graphic and commentary courtesy of  BBC.co.uk

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A lull, before storm Amy, graces the Sunday street-food stalls of Les Halles. Birdsong, traffic rumble and the cries, of vendors, float on the still air.

Yesterday, Optimist dinghies skittered, around the inner harbour, in a thirty five knot breeze. Their youthful skippers honing the skills, which have led to French domination of the solo offshore sailing scene.

Today, the low slung box boats, of the European inland waterways, make good their escape from Le Havre. Turning hard to port, into the mouth of the Seine. Steaming upriver, for Rouen.

Tomorrow, storm Amy is forecast to blow forty five to fifty knots. Initially from the southwest, before backing westerly. Predictions vary as to how long she plans to linger.

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 "Workin' on a mystery

going wherever it leads

I'm running down a dream"

Sang Tom Petty (Runnin' Down a Dream. 1989). Sentiments which equally apply to skippering a cruise under sail.

The latest Channel gale roars and whistles. With Storm Amy still to make landfall. Stargazer is confined to port, for some time to come. Causing a rethink, of the final stages of her Zen Again cruise.

For our Bremen based German neighbours, bound for the Mediterranean, a realisation has dawned. It is too late in the season, to complete both a Biscay crossing and a descent of the Costa de Morte (the, so called, Galician Coast of Death). With its triple perils of exposure to Atlantic storms, paucity of ports of refuge and, latterly, probability of Orca attack. Instead they will take advantage, of their Southerly's shoal draft, to have her shipped by road. Leaving a week on Wednesday.

Dave and Nige, both caught by Erin in Cherbourg, along with Stargazer, are leaving their respective boats in Le Havre. Returning home, to Hull, by train and tunnel. They plan to collect their craft, and conclude their cruises, once the weather becomes more clement.

For Stargazer's part, the rethink is of routing. We would normally make for Dieppe. Where it is simple to stamp out of Schengen, at the ferry terminal. With a convenient, ten hour, crossing to Eastbourne on the English shore. However, in these changeable conditions, sailable days are at a premium. And that strategy requires two 'good' days.

Whereas, a passage direct from Le Havre to Eastbourne, which is achievable in around eighteen hours, requires only a one day weather window. If started at low water Dover, it also benefits from two fair (east going) turns of tide, to one foul (west going). With a Schengen stamp out available, by special arrangement with the capitainerie, it seems like a solution which fits the circumstance.

"Workin' on a mystery

Going wherever it leads."

Picture Credits

Chart screenshot courtesy of Navionics by Garmin

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A city of sculptural shapes, set out with a grand vision. And optimism for a better future.

At its centre, a reminder of lives lost, during the war which raised Le Havre to ruins.

The memorial is set beside a still pool, spanned by a slender bridge. Which arcs, like a rainbow of hope, above its surface.

Guggenheimeresque walkways spiral from pedestrian underpasses to street level.

Carrying the eye toward a skyline, which juxtaposes manmade curves and rightangles, with a garnish of organic tree canopies.

Contemplative spaces dot this gridiron city, varying in style and target audience. The sunlit pool, at its centre;  shaded groves, further out; and, on the seafront, a sprawling skateboard park with spectator area.

Scan and ride scooters and cycles pervade the pavements.

The roads are populated by an unusually high percentage of EV's. Even the taxi's are electrically propelled.

As are the trams. Silent, save for the chime of their warning bells.

Le Havre is a city that is recognisably French in style: with its pavement cafes, wide tree lined boulevards and sense of panache. Even if its substance is not that of the typical French town: either in terms of architecture or transportation choices. Exactly as intended by its creator, Auguste Perret. 

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A second westerly gale sweeps in from the Atlantic. To the delight of the local windsurfers and the chagrin of cruisers on passage.

Who are relegated to the role of beach bound observers. We watch as the board riders leap like homing salmon.

The windsurfers are rivalled, for speed and altitude, only by the kite surf community. Whose spectacular airbourne antics prove too swift to capture on camera. Although, to the eye, as with acrobatic dolphins, their flights are lengthy.

Further out, burly merchantment shoulder their way through the breakers. Ploughing furrows in seas heavy with storm-stirred sediment.

They are making for Le Havre entrance. Which is open to the west. Offering protection, from the mounting waves, only by presenting them with a narrow aperture.

Either side of high water, breakers scale the wall behind which Stargazer hunkers. 

Sending a powerful surge, through the small craft sheltering within, as they plunge into the port de plaisance.

A salt stained Stargazer lies head to wind and wave. Her lines doubled, to spread the loads and tame the motion. With springs rigged both from midships and from her ends; and two snubbers securing her port bow. Which bears the brunt of the onslaught.

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A stray shaft of moonlight pierced the cloud cover, in the final stages of Stargazer's overnight arrival. Revealing two glowing white figures staring to seaward, from the port de plaisance pierhead.

Providing firm visual confirmation, that the particular flashes of red and green, which Stargazer's skipper had focussed upon, did indeed delimit the gap, in the inner breakwater, which forms the entrance.

It was the final element of our preferred (particularly when headed into a darkness known to contain solid walls) four point check: Plotter position; predicted bearing to lights or landmarks; visual confirmation of those lights and landmarks; interrogation, and reconciliation, of anomalous sightings.

The AIS overlay is a skipper's guardian angel, especially after nightfall, in permitting the same process to be followed for moving (shipping) targets.

 

Affording, to all, the type of overview which was once the sole preserve of those in the Port Control eyrie.