OVER THE TOP
OCEAN NOMAD
NORTH SEA
PASSAGE PILOTAdrian Flanagan, Adlard Coles
‘What started out as a singlehanded voyage had
become anything but.’ A solo circumnavigation had
been Adrian Flanagan’s dream since he was 15 and
read Francis Chichester. His story begins with intense
individualism; separating from his wife, determined
to achieve something unique, swept overboard after
neglecting his promise to wear a harness. It develops
much more interestingly as he is forced
to accept his dependence on others;
on his yacht Barrabas, on his ex wife
ouise, on all the people who enable
his passage westwards round the Horn
and through Russia’s Northern Sea
oute. Even the murder of dissident
Litvinenko may have contributed to
achieving the necessary permissions.
Flanagan’s reflections on his journey are
impressively honest.Suzanne van der Veeken, Oceanpreneur Publishing
It’s not essential to be super-cool and feeling the
vibe to enjoy this book – but if you have aspirations
in that direction, download this at once. Suzanne van
der Veeken has used her own experience to write- and crowdfund – a practical guide to hitch-sailing
across the Atlantic. It’s a highly organised and helpful
book with routes, ports, websites, and even some
of the bars you should hang out at
or go dock-walking to find your
ride. Clear thinking and attention
to detail make van der Veeken’s
work potentially useful to any
captain or crew member preparing
for an ocean passage. Her passion
for conservation and sustainability
offers insight to a ‘vagabond’ lifestyle
that is also socially responsible.
Brian Navin, Imray, 6th edition revised,
This indispensable guide to crossing the southern North
Sea and coastlines from Great Yarmouth to Dover and
Calais to Den Helder has put on weight in its 30 years
of existence. Chatty half sentences about the need
to sail ‘hard on the wind’ have been trimmed and
replaced with strategic advice for the
correct crossing of TSSs and DWRs
with updated regulation like the need
to activate ATIS-enabled VHF radio
when entering the inland waterways.
This revision of the sixth edition bulges
with information on new wind farms,
details of changed traffic separation
schemes and updated contact details for
ports and services. The sea hasn’t changed;
s the people.behind to some extent. There must be some 16ft only –
5ft to spare.
‘Pass the word. What bottom do you feel?’
In ten seconds, the answer came back. ‘Sandy bottom, sir.’
‘That must be well off Council Rocks,’ whispered Prowse.
‘Yes. Quartermaster, one point to starboard.’
Hornblower stared through the night-glass. There was
the shadowy shoreline just visible. Yes, and there was the
gleam of white, the gentlest of surfs breaking on Council
Rocks. A whisper from the gangway.
‘Rocky bottom, sir. We’re hardly moving over the ground.’
So Hotspur was now stemming the rising tide, hanging
suspended in the darkness, less than a yard of water under
her keel, the tide rushing past her, the wind thrusting her
into it. Hornblower worked out problems in his head.
‘Quartermaster, two points to port.’
It called for nice calculation, for now Hotspur was
braced sharp up – twice the staysails had fl apped in
warning – and there was leeway to be allowed for as
Hotspur crept crabwise across the tide.
There would be water enough now for the coasters to
negotiate the shoals off Rougaste and to enter the channel.
It could not be long now, for the tide fl owed for no more
than four and a half hours and the coasters could not
afford to waste time – or so he had calculated when he
made his suggestion to Pellew, for this moonless night
with the tide making at this particular moment. But it
might, of course, all end in a ridiculous fi asco, even if
Hotspur did not touch on one of the menacing rocks.
‘Look, sir! Look!’ said Bush. ‘One point before the beam!’
Yes. A shadowy shape, a darker nucleus on the dark
surface. More than that; the splash of a sweep at work.
More than that; other dark shapes beyond. There had
been 50 coasters by the last intelligence, at Camaret, and
the chances were that they would try the run all together.
‘Get down to the starboard battery, Mr Bush. Warn the
guns’ crews. Wait for my order, and then make every shot tell.’
‘Aye aye, sir.’
Despite the precautions he had taken, Hotspur would
be far more visible than the coasters. She should have been
observed from them by now, except that the Frenchmen
would be preoccupied with their problems of navigation.
‘Ah!’ There was a yell from the nearest coaster, a whole
series of hails and shouts and warnings.
‘Open fi re, Mr Bush!’
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