After about eight months of waiting, the second half of my two-summer circumnavigation of Britain has finally begun. Early in September 2021, Goldfinch was hoisted out of the water in Largs, Scotland. Her mast was taken out and she sat on the shore over the winter. Bryan went up in April to supervise her re-floating and recommissioning, and worked heroically on the 1,001 jobs that were needed to make her ready for the voyage back to her home port of Ipswich.
If all goes according to plan, we will reach Ipswich at the end of July this year. Between then and now we will have sailed the length of the Irish Sea and the English Channel, and visited Northern Ireland, the Isle of Man and the Republic of Ireland. We also hope to go to the Isles of Scilly. In July we may even take a detour up the Thames, or the London River as it is known to sailors. As last year, I am doing this in two-week chunks, leaving Goldfinch in a suitable port and returning home in between each stretch.
On 14th May, Adam, Bryan, Debbie, Chris, Mike and I converged in Largs and boarded the boat. The next day we set out on the first passage of the year, towards Campbeltown on the Mull of Kintyre. It was a pleasant, easy first stretch, mostly under engine because the wind was too light. At first we were visited by intermittent heavy showers, but as the day progressed the cloud got lighter and we even had some sunshine. We arrived in Campbeltown in the afternoon and spent a pleasant evening on board.
The Mull of Kintyre is the tip of a long peninsula on the west coast of Scotland. As with many similar protuberances of land, when the tide flows past a nasty sea can kick up, so it's important to time your passage correctly. Unfortunately, for our next passage the correct departure time worked out as 4.30 am - a bit of a shock so early into the voyage.
After a short, not quite sleepless night, half the crew tore themselves dozily from their bunks and prepared the boat for departure. The sky was just beginning to get lighter, and there was a very brisk wind and some rain.
Once we were out on the open sea we unfurled the sails and cut the engine. Unlike the day before, there was plenty of wind, and in the event we sailed nearly all of the nine-hour passage. You'd think we would be grateful for this.
For most of the day it rained on and off, sometimes very heavily. We were all kitted out in full seagoing waterproof gear but even so the constant rain does not lift the spirits. The wind was a full force stronger than the weather forecast had offered us; and with the wind came the waves, rolling and pitching Goldfinch mercilessly.
Though it was not the boat that suffered: she took it in her stride. The poor crew, however, were not having the time of their lives. Steering a straight course was impossible, with the waves knocking the boat off course as soon as you thought you had got her settled. And in these conditions Marvin the autohelm can't really cope either. We had been up too early for breakfast, and in the bleary morning most of us had not had the foresight to take Stugeron, with the result that everyone but Debbie started to feel sick, and two actually were sick, one to the extent of being incapacitated. It's a horrible condition, whose only known cure is to sit under a tree on dry land.
The last few hours, taken in isolation, would have been quite bearable, and even perhaps enjoyable, since the sea flattened and the wind came round to a much more comfortable direction, so that steering was much easier. It even stopped raining. But by then we were too exhausted, wet, hungry and queasy to appreciate it.
We arrived in Bangor, in Northern Ireland, at about half past one in the afternoon. The marina staff made us welcome, and we more or less immediately collapsed into our bunks for a long-desired sleep. The worst-affected of the crew went off and found a tree or equivalent, and before long felt human again.
That evening we dined on Mike's legendary mushroom risotto and a couple of bottles of wine. Most of us slept like logs that night.
We have two days in Bangor. As I write this, sitting in the cockpit under the awning, the rain is drumming down, as it has done on and off since we arrived. Still, in the brief dryer intervals we have taken the opportunity to do some shopping, have lunch and wander round the town. Along the seafront, many of the houses are painted in soothing pastel colours; some of them have added extra features such as a palm tree in the front garden, or (in one case a life-size bear staring longingly from an upstairs window).
Tomorrow we plan a day in Belfast, and we hope for less rain.
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