Wow, what a passage!

Crossing the Bay of Biscay may be one of those dreaded passages that lives up to its reputation—like Cape Mendocino and the Tasman Sea—or it could be our poor timing. The guide books say to be sure that no southwesterly weather is forecast. None was. They explain that the fierce waves are due to the ocean hitting the continental shelf, so we went well west of the shelf. The long-range weather forecast we got called for favorable winds in the 20-knot range. Perfect. And the forecast was consistent for several days before we left. Granted, we haven’t found the weather forecasting to be all that reliable, but what are you going to do? Sit around in the harbor forever?

We left Camaret with the predicted light southerlies and headed west to the real ocean. After 11 hours of mostly motor-sailing, much of it at the edge of a military practice area, we passed the fishing boats that hang out on the shelf and could finally turn south. According to the grib files (our short-wave radio source of weather forecasts), we would soon get 20-25 knots out of the northwest. Even though when we turned, we still had light south-southwest winds, we put a reef in the main. Within the course of an hour, the winds moved around and picked up, and we were sailing at six to seven knots pretty much downwind. Sweet!

The French navy exercising

The waves and wind kept building, and the British “shipping forecast” started calling for gales in southeast Fitzroy, right where we were headed. Darn the luck. Oh well, we’ve done gales before, and the boat takes them well even if we’re miserable, but this was on day two of a four-to-five-day passage, so I, at least, was wishing it was over already. (Note: the British shipping forecast is only a 24-hour forecast. They don’t do five days ahead, so they’re generally pretty accurate once they get around to issuing their forecast. By then it isn’t as much of a forecast as it is a statement of current conditions.)

During that second night we needed to put in the second reef, but before John could do that, the outhaul on the first reef broke during a jibe, and the tie-down we were using to hold up the extra sail sliced through the lower portion of the main sail. (Yes, that’s sailor talk. For non-sailors, the point is that our main sail tore, never mind how.) To add insult, while we were hove-to to reef, the line on our tow-behind generator wrapped itself around the skeg and had to be cut free. (We won’t be replacing the line. If anyone has a Ferris tow-behind generator and wants a spare generator and catcher, contact us.)

Broken outhaul (found after we docked)

And then our red-green navigation lights went out, but John fixed those. We don’t have working tri-color lights because when John went up the mast twice in Camaret, he couldn’t get to them so we’re going to hire someone. (Non-sailors, don’t sweat the details; just know that you need the red-green lights at night so that other traffic knows which way you’re going.)

When we got past the corner of Spain, things calmed down, and we even welcomed each other to sunny Spain. One more night of a peaceful motor-sail and we were outside Viana do Castolo, Portugal, in a pea-soup fog that reminded us of San Francisco Bay. In fact, because we were too late for the tide to go up the river to the marina, we turned off the engine to drift and heard the waves hitting the beach. That reminded me of beer-can races on Red Hawk out of Santa Cruz. In the fog Lou (the skipper) had us listen for the breakers so that we’d know when to turn into the harbor. Then we heard the boom of breakers crashing into rocks, checked the chartplotter to discover that we were drifting toward the beach, and restarted the engine.

Atlantic sunset

While waiting in the fog we discovered that those fishing stakes that have plagued us since the Baltic actually show up faintly on radar. And we were grateful for our AIS so that we could see what the two freighters were up to that were also drifting around in the fog. After one of them decided to move suddenly and got so close that we actually saw it as we were hurrying out of its way, I called the other to see what they were planning. I was informed that they were anchored already, but for the record, AIS still showed them “under way” when we started up the river.

Portuguese fishermen, another obstacle to avoid in the fog

As often happens in California too, just inland the fog cleared. So after we had inched past the first buoys and the jetties using GPS and radar, we could see to steer the rest of the way. And even though the marina didn’t answer on VHF or telephone, Carlos was on the dock to take our lines and welcome us to Viana and Portugal. And we’re very happy to be here with another American boat that came in behind us (Hannah Brown) and a friendly French couple on the catamaran Ti Corail that was already here when we arrived. Sail repair will have to wait for the next stop, but we plan to enjoy a couple of nights here in Viana do Castelo. It looks pretty.

As a post script since I didn’t get this entry uploaded last night, we had drinks and a lovely supper on Ti Corail with Agnès and Francis last night. They left this morning, but we hope we’ll see them again. They’re headed to the Caribbean, and we’ve added them to the list of boats we’re following, several of which are already in the Caribbean: Jammin , san clés , and Indigo.

Hanging out in Camaret

We haven’t done much here. Some boat work and laundry. Went shopping and looked around town. Oh, and worked on more photo pages. I posted 11 more pages earlier today.

It looks like we’ll be leaving on Monday for Portugal. That’s later than we’d hoped, so we’ll have to hurry more than we would like. We might even have to plan in advance and make a schedule. We’re out of practice with that.

Into September and out of the English Channel

As August changed to September we fought our way out of the English Channel against the wind and, at least half of the time, against the current. It has been more than 13 months since we first entered the Channel, and we’ve had a great time even though we didn’t have a lot of great weather.

Now we’re in Camaret-sur-Mer in southern Brittany waiting for our weather window to cross the Bay of Biscay to Portugal. The remains of former hurricane Danny are blowing through today and tomorrow. All that’s left is wind and rain. So far the wind isn’t even gale strength, but we’re glad to be at the dock instead of slamming around outside. Although it was beautiful when we sailed into the bay yesterday, the rain has started now, and it gives us time to work on photo pages for the Web site. Of course, we also have a few boat projects to complete before we embark on a four-day passage, but it looks like we’ll have time for that.

As usual, new photo pages are listed under “Latest Additions” on our photo index page and under “Recent Updates” on our home page.

Below are some photos from our passage out of the English Channel and into the Bay of Biscay—minus the bounce.

Tréguier

It’s hard to believe that only two days ago we were in Guernsey. Our passage to Tréguier was relatively fast, and we averaged a little better than our normal five knots. The rocks at the approach to the river were quite impressive, and the current was fast, but it’s well-marked and wide, so we had no problem negotiating the twists and turns, even when our chart plotter didn’t quite line up on the buoys. What we didn’t anticipate was the tiny little sticks, most with tiny little flags, that mark some sort of fishing pot or net or line all over the approach. Some of them were very difficult to see, and we did have to turn to avoid one.

Channel markers at the approach

View of artichoke fields from the river

It was due to the fishing sticks that we changed our plans again. We had thought that we would leave here at high water slack about 0420 this morning—still in the dark. Instead we’re leaving at high water slack 12 hours later. So instead of another stop on the English Channel, we’ll be sailing overnight all the way to Cameret in South Brittany. That’s where we’ll wait for our weather window to cross the Bay of Biscay to Portugal.

All of this gave us extra time in Tréguier, and we’ve enjoyed it very much. The town is very old—15^th and 16^th century—and unlike many French towns along the Channel, it wasn’t destroyed in either world war. Also, in contrast to Honfleur, for example, it hasn’t been overrun by tourists. You can really feel the history here among all the old stone buildings. Unfortunately, we don’t know much about the details of that history and haven’t been able to find much on the Internet in English.

Typical stone houses with flower boxes

Cat in the window

We also had very nice neighbors here. They're from Jersey, and we didn't get their names, but we did watch them sail into the entrance behind us. Then while we were waiting for slack at the pontoon outside the marina, we watched them go past us and dock. That's when we decided that it must be slack enough. The currents through the marina are notorious, so we were being extra careful.

Our night lights: buoys off the stern

John got lots of pictures despite yesterday being overcast. The evening light was beautiful when we came up the river, and today is bright and sunny. I'm sure the photo page will be great when we get it done.

Guernsey

We’ve really enjoyed our stay in Guernsey, but it’s coming to an end this morning as we continue to make our way out the English Channel. They say Guernsey is English with a little French dressing, and that about sums it up. It feels like we’ve done more tourist things than usual, but it’s probably about the same.

Harbor with 800-year-old castle

A little French dressing

When we first arrived, John asked the harbor control guy where a good place to get real ale was. Although reluctant to give advice at first, he finally recommended the Cock & Bull up the hill. We checked it out the next day and liked it. The ale was good (John said the IPA was the best he’s ever tasted), and the manager was friendly. He said we should come back the next night for a live Irish music session.

The Cock and Bull

Often we mean to do things and don’t follow through when the time comes. We decided, though, to make a point of going to the pub for the music, and we’re really glad we did. The music was outstanding, and the pub was so pretty in the softer light. John took lots of pictures, and yesterday we dropped off copies on our way back from Victor Hugo’s house.

About half of the Irish musicians including the manager's daughter on the left

That was another thing that was recommended to us: visit Victor Hugo’s house. Hugo spent a large part of his 19-year exile from France in Hauteville House here in St. Peter Port. He bought the property from proceeds from the sale of a poetry collection and spent years decorating it. It was here that he finished Les Misérables. The house is definitely worth seeing if you’re ever here. John took lots of pictures, so we’re sure to have a photo page on it later.

Our guide at Victor Hugo's house

On to the Channel Islands

Dinner with Laurie and Sue was lovely. John says both times he has had home-cooked moules, they were significantly better than the ones he had at the restaurant in Dieppe. After dinner we watched NCIS, which was fun. Laurie and Sue didn’t have television last year when we were there. They seem to enjoy some of the same American shows that my family and I do.

We stayed an extra day in Cherbourg to take care of some boat chores. The staysail halyard was chafing in the middle, and the deck light and steaming light (the same fixture) was out. John had to go up the mast to fix the light, and several people walking down the dock talked to him. They seemed impressed with his mast-climbing equipment. It turns out that a screw on the deck light fixture had a protruding sharp edge that was damaging the staysail halyard. John smoothed it out and covered it while he was up there. Then he reversed the halyard so that the chafed part isn’t under tension when the sail is up.

Sunday we set off for Alderney. There was wind off and on, so we sailed when we could. At one point we were doing more than nine knots, but there really wasn’t any wind. It was all current!

In Alderney we decided to anchor rather than pick up a mooring buoy. According to Reed’s if you fly your quarantine flag (a plain yellow signal flag that stands for Q), the harbormaster comes to you with the customs forms and other paperwork. Although we arrived in mid-afternoon, no one came by the boat, so in the morning we put the dinghy in the water and went to the harbormaster. He called Customs, and we took care of all of the formalities in one stop. Märzen couldn’t go ashore, but we know she doesn’t mind about that.

Alderney is a rocky island, and the town of St. Anne is pretty with lots of stone houses. We had lunch and a beer, but didn’t visit the museum. As in France most businesses close for an hour or two at lunchtime, which was when we were in town, of course, so that kept us from the temptation of buying anything. John could really use a few new t-shirts to replace ones that have been ruined by boat chores, but he’ll have to get them somewhere else.

When we got back to the boat, the young harbormaster’s assistant stopped by to see if we wanted to pay him. Of course, we paid at the office, so there was nothing for him to do. In the morning he stopped by again. This time it was with a printout of the weather forecast, which was much appreciated, and we took the opportunity to confirm the time that we should leave for Guernsey. The tidal streams (or currents) in the Channel Islands are fierce, and you really have to go with the flow.

Some weather in the Atlantic is really affecting the sea state in the Channel, and it was a decidedly bumpy ride to Guernsey this afternoon. We also had 20-knot wind on our nose most of the way, so it wasn’t a quick trip, even with favorable current. The current only really kicked in once we got in the wind and wave shadow of the island.

St. Peter Port, where we are, has a fairly large harbor filled with boats. We’re rafted on a pontoon that isn’t connected to the shore because of Märzen. The neighbors are a French boat, and they also have a dog. They’ve been very friendly and curious about us, and they even gave us a bottle of wine! (I’d said that we like French wine.) They’ll be leaving at six o’clock tomorrow morning, and then we’ll get to be the inside boat. The pontoons don’t have electricity, but they do have fresh water. And there’s free wireless Internet, which John rowed ashore to arrange after dinner tonight.

Another map. Our proposed next stop is Tréguier

It’s the next day now. I didn’t get this posted last night, but we were up early to let the French boat off the dock. Either they hadn’t been in a raft-up before, or they didn’t understand that we were staying. In any case, we drifted in the crowded harbor on a fairly windy morning while they watched us, looking puzzled. Finally, I indicated that we wanted to go back to the dock after they left. They got the message, but by then we had found another open spot and took it. High winds are expected to blow through here today, and our other spot would have been a little less exposed, but we’re securely tied and heavily fendered now, so we’re good. (We’re also closer to the wireless Internet antenna, and that’s a plus, especially since we don't much feel like going ashore in this weather.)

Honfleur to Cherbourg

We had a great sail in company with Anaconda almost all the way from Fécamp past fantastic white cliffs with pinnacles and on to the mouth of the river Seine. The challenge was to leave late enough so that the current would be with us and still make it in time for the last opening of the bridge into the old harbor at Honfleur. We did it, but suffered some heartburn when the lock before the bridge closed right in front of us. Anaconda was inside the lock and had everything worked out with the harbormaster by the time we got through. The harbor was full, but she let us raft up at the steps to the old port captain’s building.

Anaconda sailing to Honfleur

Honfleur is a beautiful old town filled with tourists and businesses that cater to tourists. Lex said when he was there 15 or 20 years ago, artists lined the harbor with their easels. Now cafés line the harbor, but there are still a few artists and galleries. We couldn’t help but notice that the artists who were painting the area where we were moored left our modern boats out but included the old wooden boats behind us—from memory, I guess.

Solstice hiding Anaconda at the steps in Honfleur

The weather was beautiful, and we enjoyed exploring the town and its public gardens. We even walked to the beach. The second night Maria made Dutch pancakes for us and insisted that we take some with us for the next day. It was so great to spend time with Lex and Maria again, and we were all sad to wave good-bye in the morning. We hope we’’ll see them again sometime.

Pond in the public gardens

From Honfleur we motored sailed to St Vaast-la-Hougue where we anchored for the night. Thanks to a favorable current most of the way, we made good time so that it wasn’t totally dark when we arrived. We were thankful for Maria’s pancakes, which made an easy and tasty dinner. The anchorage was peaceful that night, but in the morning the wind changed direction, and the swell increased so that we were happy to be on our way when the tidal stream changed.

We were looking forward to a downwind sail with the current, but when we reached the cape at Barfleur where we turned west, the wind became west-southwesterly. Yet another passage spent sailing to wind. What’s more, the wind increased from the 15 knots in the anchorage to 25 or more, and the seas became more than just un peu agité (a little agitated, one of Lex and Maria’s new favorite terms). We had started with a reef in the main but hadn’t rigged the staysail. After struggling with a partially furled jib, John finally rigged the staysail, and we put the jib away. It was a bit more comfortable, but we were still pretty tired by the time we docked in Cherbourg.

After showers and dinner we went to find our friends Laurie and Sue, who we met last year. Laurie had been trying off and on to raise us on the VHF radio (oddly, we’ve never exchanged telephone numbers), and they were very glad to see us. After just a glass (or two) of wine, we arranged to meet in the morning for a shopping expedition to the market at Valognes and a couple of major supermarkets. We took advantage of being in a car and stocked up on heavy things that would normally take more than one trip to get to the boat. Tonight we’re having moules (mussels) and crab on their boat.

Area around Cherbourg with places we visited circled

One of the best things about cruising is the people you meet, and this summer has been especially rich in friends: Tom and Tutten in Denmark, David and Gunilla in Sweden, all of our Dutch friends who came to see us at various stops in the Netherlands, Lex and Maria and Laurie and Sue here in France. It’s been great. And now we’re looking forward to seeing Richard and Andrea when we reach Spain. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll see Gerry in Portugal too.