46 http://www.yachtingmonthly.com november 2017
force and last for the coming week.
I was tempted to rely on Pavane’s
sailing ability and go for it anyway, to
head for an Irish port. I had tackled
far dodgier challenges in the course
of my Arctic sailing – but this was a
new and unfamiliar craft and I was
beginning to worry about the engine
which was now proving hard to start.
The operation of the gearbox was
a mystery and the forward hatches
seemed to be leaking.
Then the grey dawn turned wet, the
wind rose and by midday the decision
was made. The Helford River manager
offered a discount for an extended
stay and Derek and I flew home.
Two weeks later, feeling rested and
with renewed optimism, I was back
at sea, this time with another friend,
David Thompson, and making a stop
in Newlyn for a fair tide round Land’s
End. Pavane’s engine had been slow
to start but she was sailing like a
dream and a call to the harbourmaster
at Newlyn, one of the UK’s busiest
ports, alerting him to our lack of
mobility had secured a convenient
berth in the marina.
We left Newlyn to get slack water
off the longships, which would give
about nine hours of favourable stream
to take us into Milford Haven around
midnight. There were few ships to
worry about during daylight but
shortly after identifying the landfall
buoy off Milford, navigation lights
were everywhere. Ships to the right
and left and something huge bearing
down on us. With full sail set we
altered course then the Milford radio
with the risk of being set onto the
shallows. Almost home but what
should have been a sigh of relief was
actually a growing feeling of alarm,
as by now there was no doubt that we
had major problems. Water ingress
was my priority, suggesting that the
stern tube and its rubber seal were
giving trouble. But the engine too
had me worried; it simply refused to
start without the use of an aerosol
propellant. Even to an engineering
dinosaur like me, it was obvious there
was something seriously wrong with
the glow plugs; and there was still the
small matter of not being able to get
out of gear.
Putting into Arklow proved to be a
good call. It blew hooligans next day
and even with the wind coming off
the land, there was no telling what
stresses heavy weather would have
put on the boat had we pressed on.
Plus we needed a rest. Few words
passed between me and David, a
friend of many years who has had the
misfortune to sail with me in the high
latitudes. I do, though, remember
being less than interested when he,
a noted botanist, tried to show me
something green with leaves when my
mind was elsewhere, preoccupied as
to whether we could reach Strangford.
It was good fortune we had an early
start next day as no one was around to
witness the spectacle of us leaving the
harbour. Although the wind was light,
it was enough to cause complications
as the river was running high and no
amount of springing or spronging
produced a safe angle to get awayannounced the arrival of a bulk carrier
under tow and for all to give way.
The wind that carried us from
Land’s End had veered to the north-
west, which meant that Dale Bay, just
round the corner from the entrance,
would give us shelter. Bearing in mind
the difficulties we’d had with the gears
I decided to anchor well out.
Bright and early we were under way
again, motor-sailing to begin with
past the bird sanctuary of Skokholm,
magnificent in the morning light.
Skomer next to starboard and some
distance off, seas breaking white on
the Smalls. The wind filled in nice
and steady and with all sails drawing,
Pavane surged along at an average
of 6 knots to bring us past the South
Bishop lighthouse then a course of
NNW towards the Irish shore, about
100 miles distant.Silence spoke volumes
We made Arklow late that night, not
wanting to risk the shoals that run
for 30 miles or so up the east coast of
Ireland where the tide flows strong,At last I could allow myself a smile; sails
drawing nicely, autopilot handling
the conditions with ease, the new
boat was showing her potential
home waters
The smile from Les says it was worth it