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Day two. 9 July 2024. Up at six. As promised, Roland had snored all night. Croissants and toast with jam. Checked oil and bilge water, filled the water tank.
I handled departure. Not straightforward in England: you have to plan the release of every line for the current wind and stream.
Leaving Yarmouth, Clive diverted us to the moorings. Each of us approached a buoy. Phil and I needed one attempt, Jen and Roland two. Then the same under sail. Two attempts for me, three each for Jen and Phil. Roland dropped a tethered bucket over the stern and picked it up first time.
With my plan out, I assigned roles. Almost immediately, torrential rain reduced visibility to a hundred metres. We followed the compass from waypoint to waypoint, meeting the turn of the tide. Tomato and bean cup soup on the way.
At the final waypoint, after changing to engine power in a large swell, something strange happened. Headache. Blinding light. Couldn’t concentrate. I was sent to lie in the saloon, missing the narrow approach to St Helens and anchoring. Roland began planning for Portsmouth. They suggested I come out to look at the horizon. Standing in the rain with trembling legs, I knew any movement would turn me inside out. My first bout of seasickness.
Plan finished, Roland put me at the helm. At the tiller, the sickness eased. We sailed off the wind in a heavy sea. Another downpour removed all landmarks. I simply held the course: any deviation risked grounding. Fifteen minutes later, the cloud passed, revealing a harbour churning with three opposing streams.
I brought us alongside going astern. Curry, rice and cake for dinner, then an instructor’s debrief.
A little terminology:
Slip = cast off = gently release, when referring to a mooring line
Thirty-two miles. Track here.
#training #boss #passage
I handled departure. Not straightforward in England: you have to plan the release of every line for the current wind and stream.
Leaving Yarmouth, Clive diverted us to the moorings. Each of us approached a buoy. Phil and I needed one attempt, Jen and Roland two. Then the same under sail. Two attempts for me, three each for Jen and Phil. Roland dropped a tethered bucket over the stern and picked it up first time.
With my plan out, I assigned roles. Almost immediately, torrential rain reduced visibility to a hundred metres. We followed the compass from waypoint to waypoint, meeting the turn of the tide. Tomato and bean cup soup on the way.
At the final waypoint, after changing to engine power in a large swell, something strange happened. Headache. Blinding light. Couldn’t concentrate. I was sent to lie in the saloon, missing the narrow approach to St Helens and anchoring. Roland began planning for Portsmouth. They suggested I come out to look at the horizon. Standing in the rain with trembling legs, I knew any movement would turn me inside out. My first bout of seasickness.
Plan finished, Roland put me at the helm. At the tiller, the sickness eased. We sailed off the wind in a heavy sea. Another downpour removed all landmarks. I simply held the course: any deviation risked grounding. Fifteen minutes later, the cloud passed, revealing a harbour churning with three opposing streams.
I brought us alongside going astern. Curry, rice and cake for dinner, then an instructor’s debrief.
A little terminology:
Slip = cast off = gently release, when referring to a mooring line
Thirty-two miles. Track here.
#training #boss #passage
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