Postscript:
George provided these graphics and stats
Total distance = 2956 NM
St Pierre-St John’s: 204 NM;
St John’s-Nanortalik: 926 NM;
across Greenland: 85 NM;
Greenland-Falmouth: 1741NM).
Best 24hr passage=159NM (riding tail of Hurricane Erin).
Falmouth to Hoo
Once in the Carrick Roads (the outer harbour area), I hoist the sails and by 1830 'we' are out of the harbour and heading east. We have a fine sailing breeze and bowl along nicely at 6 + knots with the wind just aft of the beam. I'm too lazy to cook and so have a hot pot with some of the white loaf I bought this morning. During the night we are visited by a pod of Pilot Whales. I've never seen them in the Channel before and was delighted to (just about) to see them.
By 0100 we are south of Plymouth and the tide has turned against us and slowed us down, so whilst we are still making 6+ knots through the water we are down to to 4 knots over the ground. I get into my solo night time routine and sleep, depending on the circumstances, for, 15, 20, or 30 minutes at a time up until about 1000.
Before then, around 0700 the tide changes again in our favour again and we
are quarter of the way across Lyme Bay making 7-8 knots over the bottom.
I have a fry up for breakfast around 1000 making sure I save enough bacon and eggs etc for one final one when I hopefully get safely back to Hoo.
By 1300 we are south of Poole and the tide has turned again and pegged us back to 3 knots over the ground. 0700 or thereabouts and the tide changes again and we make good progress eastwards south of the Isle of Wight. By 2200 we are crossing the approaches to the Eastern Solent and the busy Nab Channel that all the commercial vessels making for Southampton use. This is an area one wants to get across as quickly as possible and where the skipper needs to be on high alert to avoid getting in the way of any of the big boys.
Unfortunately the wind backs east of south around this time and freshens considerably. We are suddenly over canvassed with full sail up in 25 knots AND are being forced northwards closer to the entrance of the Nab Channel. I need to reef and it's possible I may need to tack if the wind backs further. And oh, sod it,
the starboard pole is still rigged, so I'll have to get that down too! I hope that the forecast for the wind to veer and return to the south/southwest in a couple of hours is accurate and that that will allow us to weather Beachy Head some 40 miles further east without tacking but I'll have to work all that out properly later.
With this wind and on our current heading we'll just about stay south of the Nab Channel but may well get pushed onto the infamous Owers shoals where Ted Heath's Morning Cloud was wrecked by severe waves on September 2, 1974. While some of the crew was rescued, two of them died in the incident. The sinking of the state-of-the-art yacht, built without regard for cost, made international headlines given Heath had been Prime Minister until just seven months prior.
I had a close encounter there myself a couple of years later on my Dad's Standing Gaff Cutter, Chlamys. Fortunately the weather was benign on that occassion. Indeed the problem was lack of wind. I was returning from the Normandy coast with a full crew (6 of us) comprising girlfriend, her best pal (both only 16) and other friends. None of us were older than 18 and my girlfriend's parents and her pal's parents had somehow been convinced by my Dad that I was perfectly competent and knew what I was doing. In a way he was right I suppose, because I did manage to get the boat backwards and forwards across the channel a few times with no more navigational equipment than paper charts, a compass, a lead-line for measuring depth and a chip log for measuring speed! Nevertheless, I suspect that if they had known the extent to which luck and good fortune played a part in those crossings, they would not have been nearly so sanguine about turning their daughters over to my care. The wind died away completely as we approached the Loое Channel through the shoals. The engine off course, chose to overheat, forcing us to anchor in water just deep enough to avoid going aground, while we waited for a breeze and the flood tide to help us on our way
to Portsmouth.
We ended up making Portchester after a near collision with a stationary Royal Navy
Destroyer in Portsmouth Harbour. Recalling that incident more than 40 years earlier, I hoped I wouldn't reprise that near miss on this passage!
This time lack of wind was not the problem, quite the opposite, and whilst I was not in a predicament anything like as serious as Morning Cloud's, I need to ensure I stay well away from the shoals. Even in this modest blow the seas over them would be pretty nasty.
First things first, I need to reef and get the pole down and pretty quickly before we get tangled up in commercial traffic. I don my oilies and life jacket and safety harness and put two reefs in the mainsail. That goes OK - I can do everything from a sitting position at the base of the mast with a safety harness wrapped round the mast. Next, I tackle the pole, it's a trickier operation because I have to stand up to release the heel from its socket on the mast, but I get it done and then have to lash it down on deck. I do that lying down and get doused by a couple of waves in the process. Back in the cockpit I take in a few turns on the genoa. The boat is calmer now. I scan the horizon in the dark and go below.
I shed my sodden oilies and change into yet another set of dry clothes and check the AIS. There's a passenger ship just left the Nab Channel and heading our way. I call her up on the VHF. Her radio operator tells me he sees me on AIS and will leave us to port. Re-assured I work out how much longer we can continue on this heading before we have to turn away from the Owers. Providing the wind doesn't back any further (which would force us further north) we have a couple of hours.
Thankfully, over that period the wind veer's as forecast and we are able to lay a course that will take us south of the Beachy Head and therefore well south of the Nab Channel and the Owers. Just as I start to relax I'm called up on the VHF by the passenger ship that I spoke to earlier. Oh goodness what now? We move to a working channel. "Hello Bonny, we can't see any navigation lights - do you have them on?" I immediately check - but no I haven't switched them on! So much for the skipper needing to be alert and on the ball! I apologise and thank the operator for alerting me. "No problem, I just thought you would want to have them on given you are approaching Southampton waters". Just about as mild a rebuke as I could expect in the circumstances. Feeling deeply ashamed of my negligence I carry on.
By 0200 we are south of Worthing and by 0800 we are rounding Beachy Head. The wind is still a good Force 6 and we are sailing fast on a beam reach and then as we round Beachy Head we free off onto a broad reach, still with two reefs and a couple of rolls in the genoa. Around 0900 we round South Foreland and are heading for the busy Dover Straight, still sailing fast. We pass Dover at about 1330 without getting tangled up with any shipping and by 1700 we round North Foreland. More by luck than judgement we work the tides just right and catch the very beginning of the flood into the Thames Estuary and the River Medway. It does mean that I either need to take the long seaward route to the Medway or play chicken with the sand banks along the aptly named "Overland Route". We are now in the lee of the Kent coast and the seas flatten considerably and so I judge it's safe to choose the latter. The echo sounder registers minimum depths of 2 metres from time to time but we wriggle through the channels without mishap.
The wind does however back into the south west again which means we can only just lay Garison Point at the mouth of the Medway. We arrive there at 2200 and I have to decide whether to beat up the river or Motor. It's dark of course and although on previous occasions I have chosen the challenge of beating, I'm tired and decide to take the easy option of motoring.
Halfway up the river to Hoo, a banging noise from the engine compartment I have tried to ignore is now so loud that I can't. I remove the cover from the engine compartment and it's immediately obvious that the engine is on the verge of shaking itself off it's mountings - it's jumping around like a demented kangeroo!
I throttle back from the 2,200 revs to barely 500 at which point we make about 2 knots over the ground the vast proportion of which is down to the tide which means we barely have steerage way! I try sailing with just the genoa but its impossible to sail close enough to the wind under that alone even with a fair tide. Even when the river changes course the wind seems to follow it and we continue to have the wind dead on the nose. I have three options; hoist the mainsail and beat up the river; anchor and try and sort out the engine; or the least sensible carry on under power at a crawl and hope that we make the moorings before the engine shakes itself loose and crashes through the hull of the boat and turns Bonny into a hazard to all shipping. Of course it's clear that any sensible skipper would immediately right off option 3 and choose whichever of the former is most appropriate given the circumstances.
My only excuse is that I'm tired and so the worst option - the one requiring least effort, seems, despite its risks to be the most attractive. So we continue on with the tide drifting within inches of the river's port and starboard buoys and then ponderously thread our way through the moorings to the west of Hoo Island. Every minute that passes without the engine falling off its mountings gives me cause to hope that we may just make it after all. Finally, we approach the club's moorings and I pick out the mooring that Tony Cottis , our mooring master had kindly prepared for me, complete with pick-up buoy. I cock up the first attempt to pick it up despite having the very long boat hook we bought in St John's in lieu of an ice pole. On the second approach I clip a couple of mooring buoys and narrowly avoid a few club boats as we crab slowly across the tide. I do though manage to hook the pick-up buoy. And so, on Thursday 11th September at 0130, despite the skipper's ineptitude, 56 hours after leaving Falmouth, Bonny is securely moored to a Hooness Yacht Club mooring.
I'll be home for our wedding anniversary after all!
The following afternoon, Tony Cottis comes out in the club launch with Howard and Bernie and returns me to dry land.
Journey over!