End of journey ... for now.

We finally  reached Dover last night. The Crossing was calm and uneventful,  with weather conditions as good as needed, though not enough wind to sail. 

So it was nine hours of solid motoring, as so often happens. Only one ferry need avoiding. We chugged across the two lanes of the marine motorway of the Traffic Separation Scheme without incident. There wasn't that much traffic , to be honest. 

Last night we arrived too late to get into the locked marina at Dover so had to moor up in the old tidal dock which is hard to find and antiquated. We were surrounded by fishing boats, RNLI and Border force boats, and the fishing guys were noisy! This morning the lock was open when the tide allowed and we put the boat in the much more salubrious marina.  

Quite strange to be back in the UK after a month. Thanks to all of you who have been reading our blog and especially those who commented. Nice to hear from you and we hope you stay safe and well.

Kinder weather

We were discombobulated today by the time of our departure from our bumpy Oostende berth. No, we did not depart at sparrowfart as usual,  but - this is a first - after a leisurely lunch.

We did everything on the list and still had an hour or more to spare. It was unnerving to leave so late, especially after the young and outspoken harbour master told us we should have left at 5am. 

Well he was wrong. We had a very uneventful journey, though it started off quite bumpy with the boat rolling because of winds from behind her but we made good time with favourable tides and arrived at Dunkerque at 7.15pm. 

The only extraordinary thing about the day was sticking our heads out of the cockpit to see what looked like a block of flats moving past us.  In fact it was a massive mobile  platform carrying two wind turbine legs plus the blades- absolutely ginormous though our picture doesn't do it justice. How it got through the narrow entrance to the harbour is a mystery.

New ground

Today we broke a 5-month embargo, and had a coffee in a cafe; the first time since March. Pic shows said coffee and Nic's hand with Sirena IV in the background. We were in the Royal North Sea Yacht Club, where we are moored. Despite expectations we had a quiet night because the wind and waves dropped away. Sitting over a late breakfast we said where is the promised (threatened) big wind today? About 10am it went from calm to F7 (almost a gale) in about 30 minutes - extraordinary. Since then the boat has been rolling and plummeting like a frightened horse straining against its tethers. 

Nic spent 2 hours doing a research peer review task for the NIHR (NHS Research),  and some tasks for ROS, while Lesley went Zooming to church and then did some passage planning for the next legs. 

The coffee thing was ironic really, in that we've been so very carefully risk-averse throughout this journey. It wouldn't do to catch Covid-19 whilst the 'wrong' side of the English Channel. And unlike the Netherlands where no-one was wearing masks, here in Belgium everyone is wearing masks all the time even in the street; Belgium is the sick man of Europe when it comes to Covid-19. But we went in to have a look around the Yacht Club, and the bar was so welcoming,  and it was so nice to sit looking at the boat for a while without bouncing around on her - we weakened. Much hand-washing ensued.

For similar reasons we went for a walk around Ostend this afternoon, took more pictures of the boat, and visited the "early 20th century neo-gothic church" called Sint-Petrus-en-Pauluskerk van Oostende. It felt more like 19th C though the stained glass windows (pics) are clearly newer, post-war. There was a strange feeling in the town; a long trail of a certain kind of men walking through and a lot of police about -some kind of protest march perhaps though without banners. Later we saw many of them filling the cafes of a square like starlings filling a tree. Police vans were around the corner. We treated ourselves to large icecreams - we really are losing the plot today - though we did wear gloves to handle the cups and the change.

We bought a huge piece of unidentified white fish in the fish market and poached it for dinner served with a large ratatouille. Accompanied by a small glass of sekt (aka cava,  prosecco) brought all the way from Fehmarn. Pudding in a moment will be a portion of apricot crumble, imported from the Netherlands, with a dollop of yoghurt and perhaps a small brandy. Well ... it is the weekend.

Clawing our way back

Today was meant to be spent in port, at Breskens again doing jobs as the wind howled outside.

But Lesley woke early, looked at the weather forecast and saw it had taken a turn for the better with winds turning to come from the North not the West. We both decided to snatch the opportunity to get further down this coast  and managed to leave the marina by 8am, without the usual preparation. 

Passage planning was done as we motored away, when it was still calm. We went slowly against strong tides, and soon a big swell developed. It rained hard and mist descended. We got past Zeebrugge but then large waves started coming in on our beam, rolling the boat wildly and we had to attach ourselves to safety lines.

Instead of going all the way to Nieuwpoort as planned, we decided to run into Oostende, 10 miles short of it, because frankly it was feeling dangerous.

Every time we see a decent forecast, the tides and waves have conspired to cook up something risky. We tried to get into the locked basin in Oostende as it would be less bumpy overnight. See pic, the red lights show it is closed, and the lock guys told us they wouldn't open it because of big winds! 

So we are forced to berth in the outside area open to the sea waves and there is a poor night's sleep in store as we rock and roll and our ropes squeak and wail. But we are safe.

 

 

Boom, boom

Another day stuck in port, with more to follow as the wrong wind blows too hard. Yes, I know, we've got an engine, but the seaway (waves) just gets too rough for comfort or safety along this coast.

Stuck for pics today, so here's a couple of the inside of our floating home in the evening. We're snugged down for the night as usual, having had dinner, phone calls made, a few hands of cards and some reading; L is reading Proust,  N is reading Penguin Collection of Short Stories Vol 1 (19th century).

After a late rising - v long day yesterday - breakfast, showers and paying the Harbourmaster took until 11am. Then we did a supermarket shop for both fresh and some tinned stores; just a 10 min walk away for a nice change. The afternoon was spent wrestling with the boom, trying to recover the end of the broken reefing line which had disappeared inside. We could see it but we couldn't hook it, despite various Heath Robinson creations and much verbal 'coaxing'. Most frustrating.  The solution is to take the boom off, turn it vertical and shake the damn thing out; that's too big a job for out here. So for now we'll live with no first reef unless we tie it down the old-fashioned way.

That's all for tonight, folks.

Back to the briny

Dawn was a misty, chilly affair when we got up early to leave Roompot, to traverse a number of huge meers and wait at various lifting bridges and canal locks. The first bridge is shown in attached pic, and one of many lovely traditional Dutch sailing boats in the other pic.

Why were you not plunging about in the North Sea  you might ask? 

Given the wrong wind direction out at sea, we had decided (yet again) to take Holland's other option, the efficient inland route via canals and lakes.

It worked like clockwork. We and a handful of other yachts made the journey with only one long wait for a bridge in picturesque Middelburg, where we moored for 2 hours, planned the next leg and had toast, jam and tea.

Here we are tomight in Breskens, a port not far from Vlissingen, still just in the Netherlands. 

The weather worsens again tomorrow, so we may be stuck for a while. This time there is no inland route - the hairy old North Sea awaits us.

Resting in Roompot

Yesterday evening we went for a windy stroll along the wide, sandy, immaculately clean beach; it's all very pretty with holiday chalets right on the sand. (Awful commercial pic, didnt have phone.) Almost went for a swim.

A very sleepless night despite our snug berth because the Force 9 severe gale that raged all night caused a LOT of noise. So up v late (again ... not good for the backs). It continued much of the day, finally easing this evening. 

We considered hiring bikes but the shops are 3 miles upwind which seemed too big a task. Stores are running low but we have plans, after much rumination this morning over weather, tide and routes. All (or rather some) will be revealed tomorrow.

This afternoon we did a few desultory jobs such as checking for leaks and any other damage. None found. We then attempted to calculate the length of single reefing lines need to replace the snapped one and its elderly companion; not a trivial job as they disappear into a pulley system inside the boom (pic!). Both of us did an hour's work, for ROS & BBC respectively. 

Fingers crossed for kinder weather tomorrow.