Wendy’s Diary 26 June 2013 – Up the creek without a paddle – well it felt like it anyway.

           

When planning our crossing of the corner of Biscay from Spain to France we chose the Gironde as our destination as we wanted to check out Mortagne as a possible winter berthing option. As per my last diary entry, we sailed into the Gironde on 12 June.  The estuary is the largest in Europe, and most of the time looking across the river it seemed like we were looking at the open sea as you couldn't see the other side. The other problem we soon found was that the wind changed direction regularly, making anchoring potentially unsafe and consequently something we were not keen on doing.

So we had our first 3 nights in Mortagne (no wifi on the boat, but free of charge on the boatyard pontoon), then a night in Royan at 27 euros (no wifi) and upstream again to Meschers at 17 euros per night (pants wifi on the boat), back to Mortagne on the town pontoon 16 euros per night (with wifi, albeit slow). We budget at 20 euros per day for all our expenditure during the summer, including groceries, fuel, and berthing (normally negligible as we normally anchor). So this was starting to knock a hole in our finances, particularly after we had several hundred pounds worth of damage repairs to the boat in May.    

 

On 19^th June, a week after arriving in the river the weather forecast looked good continue our journey northwards, with a southeasterly 4-5 to push us along nicely. Mortagne is about 12 miles upstream from Royan and surprisingly the estuary carries on for a further 15 miles out to sea between shallow sandbars despite the fact that it appears to be virtually on the sea front if you look at it on a map. So out came the tidal streams book and we made plans to leave just after high water, allowing the outgoing tide to carry us out of the river and then have friendly currents north to Oleron. Final weather check on the free wifi and off we went.

Can you feel a “but” coming on yet?? The river estuary faces North west, so a southeast wind makes for a fairly uncomfortable passage, with short lumpy wind waves causing the boat to bounce around more than we like before we had even got as far as Royan (12 miles remember). As we rounded the bend in the river past Royan we heard the radio weather forecast, in French, and thought but were not sure that we maybe heard it said a force 7. We had only got an update 3 hours earlier so assumed we must have misheard. Another couple of hours later and the wind was howling, and the updated weather forecast this time we realised did indeed say force 7.     The Gironde has a current of 2 to 3 knots, so we were faced with a choice of turn back against the current – now about 8 miles back to Royan as the first place we could get into, or carry on heading north.

Decisions like this of course always come at a time when you head is least in the mood to make them, as there is so much going on around you – like are there any container ships about to bear down on you, just how bad is the wind (that hadn’t been mentioned in the forecast before we left). We carried on and I admitted that I was starting to feel scared, but John remained calm. Soon wave after wave started crashing down on the foredeck shooting water up over the windows and then the roof of the wheelhouse. Now I was really scared. Apart from the waves hitting the foredeck, I could also see big breaking waves up ahead and was worried these were in the channel.  I knew John had been in this boat in very bad conditions, but this was the worst I had ever seen. I couldn’t decide which was worse, watching the waves land and being able to predict which way and when the boat would jerk, or not looking and being thrown about more by every slam of the boat. I decided in the end that cowering in the doorway was my best option and I was obviously of no help to John with the navigation. A few more minutes and John made the call to turn back.

Against the current the boat continued to slam after we turned around and the speed dropped to less than 3 knots on average – it was 12 miles back to Royan at this stage. I remained in the doorway not looking where we were going and not helping John either. A particularly big wave slapping on the underbelly managed to click the mouse and change the screen so we no longer had a chart showing at the helm. I was instructed to rectify the situation, not just because I'm IT person on the boat but also there was no way John could leave the helm. I couldn't find the remote mouse (it was cowering under the table) and trying to use the touch pad when the boat was slamming everywhere was nothing short of impossible. I managed to coax the mouse out from under the table and persuade him to click on the right buttons to get the chart back on the helm (we have a small net-book with a solid state hard-drive strapped down in the salon and a repeater USB screen out in the wheelhouse).

Four and a half hours after turning round we finally limped into Royan at 10.45pm feeling very battered about. The relief of being back in a safe marina was immense and I took the luxury of sobbing my socks off for a while before tucking in for the night. The whole of the following day I felt shaken, but more than anything we were both trying to figure out what had gone so wrong. It wasn't just the force 7 winds, we have had those before. We found the local boat owners' association and had a chat with around half a dozen seasoned old sailors in there. Apparently the nature of the estuary means that you have to leave somewhere like Royan on an incoming tide and time your arrival at the narrow part of the estuary (where we had turned around) for high water slack. Also forget it if the swell is more than 2 meters out at sea (which it often is) and don’t do it in an easterly wind.

OK, our boat speed is normally around 5 knots, so to get to the right bit at slack high water we would be fighting a 3 knot current for 12 miles, leaving us a speed over the ground of 2 knots, so 6 hours then, without a favourable wind...ummmm that sounds good (not!). For the next few days I felt relieved when the weather was obviously too bad to try and leave again, as I wasn't quite ready to attempt it again. The reports were however consistently predicting no wind and swell of 1.5 meters on Tuesday 25^th so I began psyching myself up for that and a departure date. We also spent the intervening days finding out about another marina and anchorage another 8 miles further downstream from Royan and so decided we needed to start from there to have any hope of sensibly making it to the dodgy part for high water slack. Google earth showed a lovely anchorage with a large catamaran just outside the marina, but asking around we found that there is never an up-to-date chart for the anchorage or marina channel as the sands are continually shifting. It is however buoyed in the summer.

We had a few days in Royan to explore and visited the must see cathedral that was built after the blitz of the Second World War. To our minds it was a bit of a concrete monstrosity, not a must see at all, and sadly the concrete was crumbling away in places and buckets around the floor collected rainwater that leaked through the gaps. The sea front is very touristy with many expensive bars and restaurants to rip off the tourists (many British ones), but there was at least a good market and a couple of supermarkets. With the next port being Island-based I wanted to provision from a mainland shop assuming it would be cheaper. I also baked a couple of cakes (electric oven – free electricity) and did loads of washing (dehumidifier running for anything that didn't dry) basically making the best use of being in a marina. We also had an evening of drinks and nibbles on a British couple‘s boat (I took home-made cheese straws) and lots of chats with a number of French yachties.

So on Monday afternoon, a couple of hours before high water (yep, against the current) we headed downstream to Bonne Anse – La Palmyre. We wanted to get there at high water hence the need to go against the current. It took us three hours to do just under 9 miles, and we missed the top of the tide, but thankfully found the buoyed channel and headed into the marina as the nice anchorage was questionable. We found the end of a finger pontoon and tied up for the night, our plan being to set the alarm for bright and early on Tuesday morning and providing the forecast no wind had arrived, we would set off an hour before high water.

We had a wander around the harbour area and again there were lots of expensive restaurants out to catch the tourists, although many of them did look nice. Having overspent our budget on marina bills, (Royan does do a 3^rd night free – but not a 6^th!) eating out was not something we could afford to do. At 6.45 the following morning (before the harbour office opened so unfortunately we were unable to pay) with very little wind and a dose of anxiety we headed out to the estuary once more.

The most eventful part of the exit from the Gironde was the autopilot playing up meaning we had to manually steer. I offered to do so as I thought it would take my mind off of things and realised just how out of practice I am at doing so, not that it was the best of conditions to start learning again. However we made it through to the exit without a single wave crashing on the deck, no sign of breaking waves on the shallows to the sides and were quietly pleased with the achievement. However we did still have a further 40 miles to go with very little in the way of shelter for the next 20 miles at least, so I didn't sigh with relief just yet. The wind remained gentle although on the nose, so no point in pulling out a sail. After a while I retired to the cabin to catch up on lost sleep, and enjoyed a couple of lazy hours slumber whilst John listened to his iPod at the helm. (Apologies for the lack of photos thus far, it was either bad weather or not the right time to be taking snaps!) 

Freya Frey tucked in the corner at La Flotte

Our route took us past the west coast of Ile D’Oleron then through between there and Ile de Re before turning north under the bridge and heading up to an anchorage on the north of Re, with the questionably-pronounced Ars en Re as our destination. The bridge that links the island to the mainland was about 10 hours into the day's journey and as we came through the bridge (with the current in our favour) we hit a wind on the nose of 25 knots that made the sea horribly choppy and virtually stopped us in our tracks. This wasn't scary, they weren’t very big waves but they were causing the boat to slam and things to fall off of shelves. We were struggling to make 2 knots of speed and I scoured the chart for places to hide from the wind – and decided La Flotte en Re was the most sensible option and plotted the route for John to follow on the screen. This last 8 miles of the trip took us three and a half hours, and we finally tied up to the visitor’s pontoon 13 hours after setting out that morning. Finally we could sigh with relief that we had escaped the Gironde and were safely tied up on the Island.   We had provisionally arranged to meet up with some more friends with a catamaran of the same mark as ours only bigger, called Wandering Star. They had made it to Ars against the same horrible wind we had encountered, and we agreed we would join them the following morning when the wind was forecast to be gentle again.

Sunset along the promenade at La Flotte

The evening sun lighting up the boats outside the harbour

After throwing together a quick pasta dinner we went for a quick walk around the town before sunset. The town is very pretty, obviously a tourist destination but an upmarket one and very nicely kept. Quaint little back streets, nicely whitewashed cottages and a lovely seafront promenade. Parking in the harbour car park is one euro for half an hour, and ice-creams are the most expensive we have seen yet. Anyway without spending a penny (or cent) and having watched a fabulous sunset we tucked in for the night. The harbour office was closed and had a sign saying it would open again at 2.30pm the next day. 

Sunrise!

To catch a good tide we set off at dawn, 6am, thus sadly missing the harbourmaster, so not being able to pay again (dread to think how much if a car costs a euro for half an hour) and with a glorious sun rise and a following wind sailed the 8 miles along the north coast of Re to the anchorage at Ars, and had tied to the adjacent mooring buoy to Wandering Star before David or Sarah were even awake.

Once they were up and about we moved both catamarans to a more sheltered spot in the bay enjoyed tea and cake (homemade of course) on Freya Frey over a good natter. After two early starts we decided to spend the day aboard catching on jobs as well as sleep and are due to join them for drinks this evening to celebrate our second anniversary since leaving Millbrook, that sunny Sunday afternoon 2,405 miles ago! 

Celebrating 2 years afloat with Sarah, David and brother Antony aboard Wandering Star

Wendy’s Diary 17 June 2013 - The long crossing to France

On Sunday 9^th June we anchored at the end of the runway of Santander airport and dinghied the bikes ashore. John then rode his own and pushed mine the mile or so to the arrivals point and collected a good friend Caroline otherwise known as Squiff (something to do with how quickly she gets drunk apparently). She only knew that John would meet her at the airport, not the method of transport back to the boat and found it amusing. She works in the marine industry and has travelled many a mile over many different seas, but not in sailing boats.   After a couple of days at Astillero, upstream from the airport we headed down to our favorite anchorage just inside the sandbar ready for the crossing to the Gironde. With the big sail ahead we made sure the water tanks were fully topped up.

Six years ago I disliked all boats and knew nothing about navigating, currents, charts etc. etc. It was yours truly who did the passage plan, checking for obstructions like the military firing range that stretches across a huge chunk of southeast Biscay. I do most of the planning on the electronic charts on my net-book, which is used for navigation during most of our voyages.  However, this would be not just the furthest I had ever been off shore on the boat but also John’s, as coast hopping has always been the chosen method of getting around. So the paper chart was also on the table during the planning process, along with tide charts for the Gironde (which must be entered on a rising tide), and of course a variety of weather forecasts from my favourite weather websites. Squiff went through the details with me and was happy with my planning and finally John gave it a cursory glance trusting our judgement enough to not need to do a thorough check. (Who’d have thought it??)

Squiff and John having fun sailing across Biscay

So at 4am (nice time to start) we up anchored and with a little anxiety all round, headed north from Santander. The wind was gentle so we had one motor running, but it did mean we also had a gentle sea. We had agreed on rotating shifts of 3 hours on 6 hours off, based on the pattern John and I usually take on our long journeys of 3 on 3 off. It can be quite easy to go brain dead sat on watch, so we tend not to do more than 3 hours at a time if possible.

I believe it was not long after setting sail that Squiff made a pot of tea - it was awful - tasted like a swimming pool :-( This was the first time we had used the water since filling the tanks the night before and realised that the water wasn't just chlorinated, but very heavily so. The tea went over the side.  Our water tanks are split into 3 categories: we have 10 litres of bottled water for when we want a drink of water (as the water can be a touch too chlorinated at times) then we have a large drinking water tank that we use for making tea and squash - then finally 2 large washing water tanks that are often refilled using rain water collected off the decks, and although it is filtered, there could still be traces of seagull poo etc so we use it just showers and washing up - and it is nice soft water. We quickly realised that 10 litres of water would not last 3 of us 2 days, so John extracted some of the rainwater - and that was what we used to make the tea - hoping it would be fine after boiling. Thankfully none of us suffered as a result and the tea was perfectly drinkable. Lesson learned - taste the water out of a tap before putting it in the tanks.  

Dolphins vying for position between the hulls

The sea and winds remained gentle with much of the time the swell being hardly noticeable, so we alternated which engine was running but did keep one on for the entire journey. The sea being as it was meant we were able to go out on deck safely and the weather was warm enough for it to be a pleasant alternative to sitting in the wheelhouse.  Twice during the journey we had dolphins come and play between the hulls, one of the times for more than hour. I feel it an honour to be able to watch them like this and am always thrilled when they appear.

Over 2,000M deep. The water is a lovely shade of blue

Taking it easy out on deck

During another watch Squiff and I were out on the foredeck chatting whilst John was asleep when we were both distracted by a noise close by. We both turned round to see a large whale which had just blown a spurt of water not far from the boat. Close enough to see but not too close for it to be scary – I was blown away by the experience. I have no idea what type of whale it was, but it was big! I quickly woke john and he had just enough time to jump out of bed and see it before it disappeared again – unfortunately we had no time to get a photo of it. Squiff knows her marine animals better than I do but couldn't identify it, but another time had pointed out some much smaller minke whales.

Sunset at sea

The movement of our boat caught by the slow shutter speed

At around one a.m. I took over watch from Squiff, who pointed out a couple of glows in the darkness, suggesting there would probably be a couple of fishing boats just over the horizon. Half an hour later, in the pitch black 50 miles from land – it looked like a motorway had come into view. Not just a couple of fishing boats but about 25 of them were strung out in a long line in front of us. This was the perfect opportunity to put the rule of wake the skipper up if you are worried into practice. I had no idea what path to choose between the approaching boats so needed his advice, not that he was sure either. Squiff heard us talking so popped up to take a look and was profoundly apologetic for handing over shift when she thought it was just a couple of fishing boats. I love the photo I took of the boats, with the movement of our boat creating identical patterns from each boat.

Dolphins on day 2

It was amazing the difference it made to the long haul having 3 crewing instead of 2, so even when we were all three wide awake at 2a.m. admiring the line of lights, for me it removed the pressure of “I must sleep now as I am on watch soon and I will want to sleep then if I don’t get some rest now”. In reality even when there is just the 2 of us, we don’t necessarily stick to the watches but it gives a good framework to go by.

I love this photo with the sun catching the splash.

198 miles and 38 hours after setting off we finally arrived in Mortagne Sur Gironde,a tiny port about 20 miles inside the mouth of the river on the north bank. Anyway after tying up on a pontoon alongside a boatyard we popped a bottle of cava to celebrate our successful trip. Next day strangely enough none of us fancied sailing anywhere so we went for a wander around the town with views of the river. The Gironde is unbelievably huge and much of the time it is not possible to see the other side – and has typical currents of 4 knots.

Aerial shot of Mortagne courtesy of the Tourist Information Office

Another day later we headed back downstream to Royan and had the luxury of a night in the marina there. This meant we could wander around the town at leisure and check out the train station for Squiff to plan her journey home. It was nice for me again to have a girlfriend to natter with and potter around the shops and we loved having her on board. On Saturday morning we waved her off on the train north to Calais, just as the sun came out properly for the first time. The weekend turned hot and sunny and being in a marina meant I could get all the washing up to date, so we had sheets blowing in the wind all round the boat.

The weather forecast suggested an early start the next day would be good for the next leg to the Ile D’Oleron or somewhere thereabouts. The wind direction during the day directed us to an anchorage on the south bank just east of Port Medoc. It being a sunny weekend there were lots of boats out in the estuary during the day and at the end of the day they all disappeared into the various marinas. A couple of hours later we realised just why all the other boats had gone when the swell very suddenly picked up an hour before high water. At first we had thought it was the slop from a passing ship, but when it continued observed that it was a change in the sea state. With an hour left of daylight, and several hours before we had planned to head back out to sea, we decided to cancel the planned trip and head into the calm of another marina 5 miles upstream.

We arrived at Meschers just as it got dark, but with the electronic charts and flashing markers didn’t find a problem navigating the very narrow channel into the basin which is locked in half way up and down the tide. We have stayed put for a couple of days due to the weather, and it looks like it could be a long wait before a suitable weather window appears with a mixture of the northerly winds again that kept us in Spain so long and high swell, due to hit 3 meters again in the next couple of days.   We are still flushing out the water tanks with fresh water, and a hint of the bleach smell remains, but at an acceptable level. 

Wendy’s Diary 4 June 2013 – Storm bound, puncture repairs and Santander

The two catamarans are visible beyond the big sand
bar as are the mountains in the background

So my last entry ended with the arrival of our friends on Aquarelle, another Cornish catamaran. Very good timing that they did as the wind picked up and blew and blew and blew and blew (do you get the picture) a rather cold northerly westerly wind. The wind of course made the swell rise to a rather interesting 4 or more meters, which is something that keeps us well and truly in port. San Vicente de la Barquera was an excellent choice of harbour to get stuck for a week in a wind like this, and we found ourselves an anchorage in a channel between 2 sand bars which spent more time out of the water than under it. The boat sat on the sand for a couple of hours each day but never completely emerged from the water. The night the gale was due to arrive I spent in wakeful sleep worrying about it, to find that our spot was so sheltered that it was not an unpleasant anchorage at all except for at the top of the tide.

The waves on the sea wall.

An finally the calm after the storm - Aquarelle in the mid picture.

The town also has a good selection of shops and bars, so we didn't go without anything and

A visitor on the deck

kept in touch with family and friends through the wonders of the internet in bars providing free wifi with the obligatory beer or two (ok coffee if the sun wasn't over the yard arm). We shared several meals with Richard and Chris on either our or their boat which went down very well with a selection of wines and sangria during the week. 4 cooks all providing tips on the best way to cook paella could have led to “spoiling the broth” but the end was a tasty feast of seafood and chicken.

View of the Picos on our last walk

John ignoring the no walking sign as he was cycling
 - the waves at their largest were coming way above
 all the rock you can see behind him.

I mentioned the wind – but somehow omitted the rain – it rained and it rained and it rained (how many people reading this have heard John retell the Stanley Holloway story of “3 hapence a foot”?). This of course meant we had no shortage of water on board as well collect rainwater, something John is always keen to point out when it rains. In between showers Chris and I went for a few hikes, the first couple of times were laps of the big sandbar – for the most part the sand is firm and timing the walks to start just before high water we had just about enough time for two laps before the tide encroached too far. One of the few things I miss by living the cruising life is my girlfriends from the UK, so nattering away whilst wandering was fab. Our last walk went out along the coast path with spectacular views of the Picos de Europa. I measured it at about 3 miles when we got back – not bad 2 months after ankle surgery.

By the end of the week the wind and swell were dropping and the forecast for Saturday looked good for us to go our separate ways, a northerly wind allowing us to travel east whilst Richard and Chris headed west. After nonstop high winds for a week rattling the rigging it was lovely to wake up (although early at 6am) on Saturday morning to near silence. But something was not quite right – I was aware of what I thought was the sound of water “chuckling” as it passed under the boat, John however became aware that one of the bilge pumps was permanently on. He shot out of bed in search of the problem to find it under the galley sink. The top pointy bit of our Bruce anchor was poking in through the hull, bringing with it a nice stream of water that the bilge pump was thankfully dealing with rather well. On calculating times afterwards this had been going on for a good couple of hours before we awoke – very grateful that we have automatic bilge pumps. A towel stuffed in a cereal bowl, wedged in with a couple of pieces of wood over the hole halved the inflow of water - we were concerned what would happen as the tide came further in increasing water pressure.

The hole on the inside -
 after the boat had dried.

The minutes ticked by very slowly until high tide, and we made our way around to the slip, threw some lines to Richard and Chris (who had chosen to delay their sailing) and carefully settled ourselves between the old tramlines on the slipway to avoid any further damage. Time ticked by slower still waiting for the tide to go out again so that we could inspect the damage from the outside. It was market day and the town was very busy and John retold our story time and again to passers-by who were wondering what a British flagged ship was doing on their slipway on a Saturday morning!

The damage on the outside

We have a reputation for being the heaviest Heavenly Twins yacht in the water, and whilst this is quite likely true, it is also useful when you can pull out an electric angle grinder, electric sander, big tub of fibreglass repair and all the other bits and pieces required at a time like this. We had everything on board to carry out the repair and as soon as the hole was out of the water John set to work. In the meantime I set to on a job I have been putting off for a while, of scrubbing off some weed and slime that had grown just above the waterline making the boat look less pleasing to the eye. In between making the Skipper cups of tea etc it took me about 4 hours to clear both of the hulls outer sides and the rudders, by which time I ached too much to tackle the insides. Oh and just for a break in between, I scrubbed the barnacles and a couple of small settlements of mussels that had taken up residence on the underbelly.

Nice working angle!

preparing the hole for repair - it is a bit bigger now!

By the time the tide was coming back in the holes was no more and a local boat owner who also had his boat on the slipway thought that John’s work was of a very professional standard. If you are going to do a job well, choosing to do it on the one that might sink the boat otherwise is a good place to put in the effort and he was pleased with his work. We rewarded ourselves for a hard days labour with a beer, followed by a Spanish variety of caramel ice-cream from the local parlour which was amazing. At around 10.30 pm we floated out and sailed round to the fishermen’s quay, in anticipation of setting sail in the morning.

The forecast was still OK for sailing on Sunday so after a good night’s sleep we finally set sail for Santander, Aquarelle already on her journey eastwards in search of warmer weather. The sea was a little lumpier than we thought it would be (will we ever learn), even though the swell was down to less than 2 meters. In the 6.5 hours we both took a nap still recovering from the previous day’s hard labour, before anchoring behind the sandbar sheltered from the northerly wind. 

A walk on the beach 

In the morning the sun came out – blue skies, gentle breeze – this could only mean one thing – washing day! Rather a large bag of laundry had built up during the recent rainy spell so I set to by jumping up and down in my bucket (new model this year after the last one blew away in the wind) having a work out and getting the clothes clean. John meanwhile headed over to the Yacht club to collect a couple of parcels delivered there. Avid readers of my blog will recall that the some of the wind genny blades were snapped off in a very lumpy bit of sailing a few weeks earlier. All that time we spent in San Vicente with the wind blowing like mad, we had no wind generator. The parcel had arrived and within a couple of hours of returning to the boat we had it working again.

In the afternoon we took the dinghy up the river beyond Pedrena, although we had left it a little late and the tide turned before we had got as far as we had set out to and we turned back downstream. We stopped at a little quayside for a drink (brought from the boat) and went for a stroll up the hill through a very expensive and luxurious estate of individually designed mansions. At the top of the hill we reached a very grand set of (open) cast iron gates, and on passing through spotted the sign that told us we had just walked through a private road with no entry to non residents (on foot or by car). We carried on a little further until the view opened up again over El Palicio, our boat and another little vessel passing by called the Pont Aven. After taking a few photos we went back through the gates, the only signs of life we had seen were gardeners and the like, so thought we could risk it – especially as it was the only way back to the dinghy.

In the evening we went enjoyed a beer in the salubrious surroundings that make up the Royal Yacht club in Santander, with the sun beating down on the windows overlooking the bay. Playing “words with friends” on facebook in such surroundings makes me feel a little cheeky – so I made sure a flicked between that and the weather forecast if anyone happened to pass me by!

Yours truly! The deck chairs turn into mini sun beds.

Today has been dry and sunny again although the cold northerly wind continues to blow. We went ashore at Pedrena for fresh bread and to check out the local chandlery which is still the best one we have found in Spain. We were anchored about 150 meters off the high water line on the beach, but it was still enough for a lumpy fetch, so we took our books, a couple of drinks and our new deckchairs ashore and sat on the beach instead. With the backdrop of the Picos Mountains and Freya Frey in the foreground it was certainly a pleasant spot to spend a couple of hours.   On returning to the boat we decided to try and find somewhere a little calmer and are now anchored off of a beach with the rather curious name of Fango!

If you have managed to wade through my ramblings this far – well done. Whilst I write this diary for our benefit as much as anyone else’s, it is always nice to hear feedback – so do let us know what you think or just like the link on facebook if nothing else. Thank you.