En France 9

 

'La houle': the ground swell. Now that Stargazer is about to turn south, past Ushant, into the Bay of Biscay, it will be as important as the wind, in deciding our plans.

Storms, far out in the Atlantic, unrelated to local conditions, send it rolling in. Long, slow and inexorable.

Yesterday, Stargazer rounded the granite maze, guarded by the Ile Vierge lighthouse. The sea a deep cobalt blue, a fair wind on her beam and a moderate metre and a half of la houle. Perfect conditions.

We bore off at the Libenter west cardinal. Picking our way into the L'Aber Wrac'h channel, guided by the rock top markers. The slender red Grand Pot de Buerre first. 

Followed by, the tall rotund, Petit Pot de Buerre. Both left to port. Stargazer is on a dead run. Under main only, for better forward visibility. Riding in on the flood, at five knots. Gybing as necessary, to follow the channel.

This morning we had hoped to ride the tidal funnel, of the Chenal du Four, south. But, with a new day came a new forecast : A windless morning, with the best part of two metres, of la houle, to shake any zephyr of breeze  from Stargazer's sails.

Followed by an afternoon of twenty five knots of true wind (which translates into around thirty five knots apparent, with the tidal acceleration of the Chenal du Four factored in) and that same two metres of la houle running across it. Making for a lumpy ride.

Stargazer stays at her mooring, off L'Aber Wrac'h. Biding her time. Watching the world go by, in this tranquil Breton river.

The morning forecast, for the wind and la houle, will decide her next move.

Watching the World Go By

Choral music swirls from the quayside through the eddies of morning mist. Female voices answering the male. Chiming like bells. Adding to the ethereal perfection of my waking moment. 

Our surroundings play their part, in creating this dreamlike sense of an altered reality.

 

I have a feeling of arrival.

 

Like the release of a sigh.

Today is a day for Stargazer and I to sit, and watch the world go by.

To marvel at our good fortune. . . 

 

. . . to be here, now.

An English Summer 25

Three men in a boat, three hardy men, fish on. The air is thick, as Cornish clotted cream, with dense skeins of, opaque, driving rain. The weather is back in alignment with the forecast. Our reprieve, of the past three days, is over. Grey river below merges into grey downpour above. The misty forms of, hunch-shouldered hillsides and, clench-fisted, headlands, ward the torrent off, as best they are able.

Anchored, tight in beneath the bluff, within the embrace of the point, Stargazer is out of the tide. Lying to what breeze filters through. Head to wind, throughout most of the day. With her spray hood up, the main hatch can therefore be left open and washboards out. Affording me the luxury, of watching the world go by, from the comfort of her saloon settees. In the warm and dry.

The splash of oar strokes mingles, with the drumming of the rain, and the 'skitter,' of the dinghy, as it roves from side to side, on its painter. A lone oarsman makes his resolute way by, appropriately suited and hatted up, to pay his respects, to Frenchman's Creek.

Tomorrow, Stargazer plans to make the short passage, across the bay, to Falmouth. Our mission will be: to find a means to re-water and re-provision, to do some (water hungry) clothes washing, and to secure ourselves a base, from which to reacquaint ourselves, with the town. The means, will depend on the available opportunities, upon arrival.

PS If you are wondering 'what is that boat' (pictured above)? She is a Nigel Irens designed, Romilly, named 'Ayesha.' A modern interpretation of the Breton Lugger. Her traditional hull form executed in GRP and married to a full carbon rig, with minimalist weekend accommodation thrown in, below decks. 

 

Dandelion 129

 

The sight of a red sailed Mirror dinghy, waiting for her full complement of crew to arrive, brings back fond memories. Mrs Tiggy was the family Mirror, aboard which we children learned our sailing skills.

Nigh on twice the length of her predecessor, Dad's home built Trog. Pictured here with Stargazer's skipper in the sternsheets, Dad at the oars.

The sheltered, often shoal, waters of Chichester harbour are the natural habitat of centreboard craft. Dayboats, like this lapstrake Drascombe, never wanting for a new destination:

Be it an evening sail to Itchenor.

Lunch on a mooring, off Bosham.

A run ashore, for ice creams, at Emsworth.

Watching the world go by, at anchor, off Langstone Tide Mill.

Or, simply taking a stroll along the gravel beach.