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.

Storm bound

Here we are in Roompot, crazy name for a crazy place, listening to the high whistling of the predicted gales. Roompot is a place inside the Oosterschelde, a man-made inland sea. It is a family holiday beach club with rather nice giant beach huts which are more like modern apartments set on a fine sandy beach.

Today everything needed to be washed, including us, to get rid of the salt which encrusted us from yesterday's hours of pounding, drenching spray. 

Nic sprayed the boat from stem to stern, while Lesley went to the laundrette with salty clothes, and washed hats and gloves and safety lines by hand, and also our cotton masks.

Now we are clean and rested, able to look back on yesterday's tribulations more clearly. 

The picture shows a broken rope top left, which was the offending reefing line which parted in a very dramatic way. This is a key rope which helps reduce the size of the sail to make it easier to sail in strong winds.  There was a very loud crack when it snapped and it was a bad moment in a bad situation. We need a new rope to pass through the boom- it's a job for another day. We also discovered that the rope securing the anchor had snapped and the pin holding it on the roller had washed out (luckily it was tied on) - so no harm done but it might have been interesting if the anchor had started crashing around on the foredeck ... not a nice place to have to go in heavy weather.

You may notice in the pic that we have a plastic bag over by the top of the wheel...covering the chart plotter or sat nav of the seas. This is because we forgot to bring the proper cover from home.

To turn philosophical for a moment, and in response to the Comment from a friend as to 'whether we're actually doing this for fun?' - no  yesterday was not fun. However it was a test which we survived, and today we feel a sense of achievement (as well as a lesson learned re forecasts and sea states off this coast). We think the self-reliance, problem-solving and general sense of achievement are the main things we get out of long-distance cruising, with the occasional lovely sail and (in non-Covid-19 times) meeting and socialising with kindred spirits.

An unexpected battering

It's late, we're cream-crackered,  so brief notes & perhaps more tomorrow. No pics.

After being stuck in Scheveningen for over 3 days the forecast today looked like a window to make some southing; a stiff breeze, and on the nose of course, but with a lift from the tide we planned on 9 hours for the 48 miles to Roompot, a small marina just inside the Oosterschelde lock.

11 hours later after a really rough passage,  we're in Roompot safely tied up ready for the next storm; a force 9 is due tomorrow and into Wed. We're very happy to have a chunk of land between us and the open sea.

Today was much rougher than expected, in terms of wind and especially waves. Boat and crew took a battering. We had to cross a big shipping lane outside Rotterdam,  tankers doing 20 knots bearing down on us and truly tumultuous waves from all directions. Just after that the reefing line snapped, leaving the sail and boom sagging. We managed to set the 2nd reef - F5-6 was not the time for full sail - thank goodness for the Autohelm that keeps the boat on a steady course while we're both busy. We started looking at nearer harbour options but Rotterdam is very 'big ship' and complicated, Harlingviet can't be entered at this tide with these seas, and it's way too late to turn tail to Scheveningen. So on we plugged, and in the end it was a good decision, as wind & waves eased in the evening as per forecast, and the last hour was almost civilised.

Bucket and lid

Another day of driving rain and very strong winds, with SIRENA IV holed up in Scheveningen with her warps creaking and occasional lurches across her berth.

And more hours spent over the charts, pilot books and weather websites. We think we might have a chance to go south for a short window of better weather tomorrow...not exactly good weather, but better than now.

We had an near crisis earlier - involving a feature of the boat which we've had since 2012. It is a white nappy bucket- see pic.

Those of a sensitive nature should stop reading now. We have a boat with an old fashioned sea toilet, in other words if you pee in it and flush it goes straight into the water. There are many places where this is forbidden  such as in marinas, locked basins and the Baltic Sea. 

So we have an alternative receptacle for pee - the robust nappy bucket with a lid which we bought from Gillingham Mothercare 8 years ago.

Today the precious lid of that bucket flew off in transit to the marina toilets, in a huge gust of wind, and landed in the water. We were aghast! Nic followed its progress across the marina, lay full length on the pontoon whispering 'come to Papa!'. He caught it just before it sank. See pic for the happy moment.

So tonight we raise a glass to our bucket and its lid, safe on board.

Stuck in Scheveningen

Sorry about skipping yesterday. Nothing much happened. The predicted hoolie (big wind) arrived, we did a huge food shop, and we lounged in the sun a bit. This is a very posh marina, a cross between Cowes and Brighton. 

With no new pics, here's one of a lock going into Amsterdam where you'll see a yacht is stuck sideways - not quite the thing, but easily done when the wind is blowing through the lock. Took them 10 minutes to sort that out.

Today was even more hoolie plus lashing rain. We did a serious session of passage planning, mapping a grid of weather forecasts against dates and locations and tides. This showed us that life has turned against us, in that the only window of winds that we consider safe in the next 5 days are 6 hours when the tide will be exactly against us around the Hook of Holland - so that's not practical. We need 24 hours to get across to the UK directly from here. So here we sit, possibly until next Thu.

It would be not unpleasant to be here, only a few miles from The Hague, if it wasn't for the thrice-damned Covid-19; as it is, we don't feel like going out to cafes,  restaurants, museums etc. We may go for walks if the rain holds off, otherwise it's little jobs around the boat (there's always some) and a lot of reading & snoozing.

Sudden rush

A late start in Amsterdam marina today- we intended going into the city to shop for food. But for good reasons, our plans changed quickly and we left the marina at 11am in a hurry to motor west on the North Sea Canal to Ijmuiden - see pics of large ships encountered on the canal. In Ijmuiden, amazingly, we were the only boat in a huge lock which let us back into the salty, tidal North Sea.

We turned left, put the mainsail up and headed south towards Scheveningen, a lovely seaside resort close to the Hague. Why were we in a hurry? Because today was fair weather and Friday and Saturday are looking pretty evil with 30 knot gusts predicted. So today was an unlooked for chance to get a bit closer to home before we are storm bound for the weekend.

We began motor sailing down the coast but eventually put the foresail up and bingo, the old girl was sailing beautifully after days and days of humdrum motoring. It was lovely close hauled sailing with white spray and blue sky and warm sun. 

The day took a turn for the worse when Lesley discovered a minor flood of seawater in the heads (bathroom). This was caused by our forgetfulness. We used to religiously close the sea-cock under the sink, in case the seawater came in  when we were sailing, heeled right over. We used to take this sensible precaution but today we forgot. The sink and its surrounds were covered in seawater which infiltrated Nic's wash-bag, killing his electric shaver and thermometer. This is serious because it means he will have a beard like Methuselah by the time we are home. We will never get the seawater stains off the carpet, but we have always known it's iffy to have carpet in the bathroom.

Now we are snug in the marina ready to do food shopping and other jobs tomorrow while it blows a hoolie.

More (big) Meers

First a couple of pics of Lemmer from last night - its like a very mini Venice of canals instead of roads, very touristy. Then a word about 7am this morning ... and the word is 'merde'! The Harbourmaster had promised the toilets were never locked, here we were needing an early start, and they damn well we're locked. Luckily a woman was arriving for work on a nearby company and she let us use her toilet. Phew.

So out into the Ijsselmeer for 4 hours, not much wind on the nose, brings us to Lelystad and a lock shared with commercial traffic. Takes best part of an hour. Then across the Markermeer for 4 hours brings us to the start of Amsterdam with its one bridge (pic), which closes for 2 hours just before we get here. So we sit,  tied up, and wait. Has been cooler today, first time Nic has been in 2 layers and Lesley in 3. Even coats were deployed. It feels sticky again though, near the city. Apparently the Covid-19 cases are rising here, so we'll be cautious. But we have to wait for the right weather to re-enter the high seas (from the low seas). 

Now is a moment to reflect on plans and how they change. See pic: purple line is original plan for getting home and the pencil line shows our inland deviation into the canals,  and even a change in that. As to what's actually next ... we'll let you know.

South through the meers

Today saw us winding our tortuous way south through the Netherlands, through many canals and through three large lakes or 'meers'. We had to hover before bridges waiting for them to open, and hovering in a boat like Sirena with her long keel and wayward moods is not easy.

Anyway, we finally arrived in Lemmer, our destination for tonight, and motored through the town which was chock full of skimpily dressed tourists (not wearing masks or distancing) eating and quaffing at crowded tables. 

For fun they were watching us wrestling Sirena into line behind a giant motor boat while an even bigger cruise boat squeezed by on the other side. The air was blue.

When we got clear of the town we found a nice quiet berth in a marina...asked the harbour master if it was free. Yes it was. Settled down. And then a voice rang out- what are you doing in our berth? We argued but had to disconnect the electricity, unmoor all the ropes, find another berth and do it all over again. The air got bluer.

But we did our clothes washing, had showers and a stir fry and tomorrow We head for Amsterdam.

Someone is looking after us ...

We know it's tempting fate to say it, but we have been very lucky so far. Someone up there, or perhaps down there (if you've seen the Good Omens series, highly recommended ), seems to be looking after us very well. When we had to be at sea, the wind was unseasonably in the east, and now it is forecast to be strong from the west (on our nose), we have the inland option of the Dutch canals. Then there's the berths - finding one is the most stressful part of the day, but our boat handling is more confident and last night after much searching we found possibly the only 'green' (available) berth in Lauwersoog Nooderhaven. Right by the shiny new facilities too, and when we went to the Havenkontrol (harbourmaster), the man turned up as we arrived and processed us quickly.

Tonight lucky again, 7pm and with a dark storm approaching we turned off the main canal into Weaga to a small marina that in the book says depth of 1.8m; we need 1.6m. It's all about depth in the canal system. After two attempts to berth on green pontoons which were foiled by the mud, we found the last alongside berth and managed to haul her in - we are in the mud, no doubt; let's hope we can get off it in the morning. Anyway, the toilets were 50m away and open with no accursed smart card or code required, and electric connection was 10m away. That's all we need. So thank you, again, whoever is guiding our steps. 

But what of the day, you ask? The Lauwersmeer is a big shallow lake with buoys to guide us, and we traversed it in damp mist. Thence into the canal system through a little lock; these hold few terrors for us now, as we know how things work. Then on through Dokkum where you still pay bridge fees by putting money into a clog dangled down on string by the bridgemistress. 

The pics show an aqua duct where we chugged over a motorway, one of very many beautiful Dutch barges, N at helm with standard windmill, and us leading a line of boats in a suburban bit of canal. 

Other adventures of the day included a man swimming in a narrow stretch where boats were going both ways, and when I told him it was dangerous his reply was 'Gouf" and a wave of the arm; I'd like to think he swallowed a mouthful of canal water in that manoeuvre, and serve him right.

Germany to Netherlands

We left the long sandy beaches of Borkum behind in poor visibility, but we could still see what looked like crowds on the beach. In fact they are row upon row of high-backed two-person seats which are everywhere in these parts, used for sunbathing or relaxing in the shade.

It was another challenging journey, with Sirena IV rolling like a metronome in big uneasy seas, all the crockery crashing to and fro at each transition. 

Unfortunately we miscalculated our arrival time at the buoys which mark an entrance channel to our destination, Lauwersoog.

We got there too soon. The water would be too shallow for us to enter safely, so we had to pointlessly motor out to sea for half an hour and then motor back to wait for the tide to turn and give us more water under our keel. We have not had to wrestle with tides for 3 years in the tideless Baltic, so it's all coming back to us in a rush.

And how did we know that the depth would be too shallow? Not from our primary navigation source, our chartplotter which is the 'satnav" of the seas, but from our humble tablet which has Navionics software installed as a backup. 

And the tablet is our only way of navigating inland waters, because the chartplotter won't do anything but high seas. And yes, inland is where we are headed now. The weather looks so bad that we will have to putter through Dutch canals rather than go around the outside top bit of Netherlands. 

We've done it before,  twice. And we'll just have to do it again. This is a delivery trip not a pleasure trip. But being in Holland has its compensations- seeing beautiful traditional boats like the one pictured.

Rolling towards The Netherlands

We found what seemed like the last available berth at Norderney last night, arriving at 2000; very crowded with Germans staycationing. It's a big marina but the management is v old-fashioned; you have to see the jolly martinet of a harbourmaster to get your access card. The showers are locked btw 2100 & 0800 when he's not there - makes you wonder why. We left at 0730 to catch the tide, after a warm flannel wash on the boat.

Today was a 36 nm leg to Borkum, our last port in Germany. Tomorrow, weather willing, will be the Dutch Friesian islands instead of the German ones. Today started as forecast, not enough wind to sail particularly when it's behind us. Then it built and a nasty short steep sea developed, making for extremely rolly progress. Everything rattled but no cupboards burst. We set the genoa with one reef which was a good choice as the wind continued to build to F5 and the seas reached the 'don't look behind you' stage. Thank goodness wind and waves were behind us - beating into this seaway would have been very slow and extremely unpleasant. As it was we hung on tight and surfed along, reaching Borkum an hour earlier than expected. Again we were hugely lucky to get a comfortable pontoon berth, possibly the last one. Other boats had to raft out against a wall (pic).

So far we have been very lucky with all our berths, and with the weather. Of course we've not had the 'right' winds, but we'd far rather have the wrong winds behind us than on the nose. This may all be about to change as it looks like strong westerlies will soon replace the variable easterlies we've enjoyed so far. The air is noticeably cooler, so here's a pic of Nic relaxing in the warmer days.

Bird of passage

Today was the long passage, 13 hours or thereabouts from Cuxhaven to the Frisian Island of Norderney. We knew there would be little wind, and because we had to motor against unfavourable tides for a few hours, that made life easier. Having wind against a strong tide will kick up nasty chop, which is very unpleasant or sometimes dangerous.

Nic had made tons of sandwiches featuring very strong smelling German cheese. We took the usual 2 hour watches, with the person off-watch resting, eating or filling in the log.  

Unfortunately Lesley was due to call into a board meeting of the charity of which she's a trustee. Sitting in the forepeak trying to get a phone signal  was quite surreal. But it was a waste of time. No signal.

Soon after, Nic had an unexpected visitor who flew on to his lifejacket and brazenly hopped across his chest. A small yellow breasted bird who seemed tired and disoriented. He settled on various places including the fenders (see pic) and even the folds of our noble flag, the Ensign. Then he disappeared. We fear for him, so far from land.

Now it is sunny again, and the cloud has cleared away. Frankly it's better cloudy as the heat really gets you down after a while.

We have left crumbs. But he probably won't be back.

Lazy-ish day

No pics today! We didn't go any where, at least not in the boat. After a later start than the usual 6am, the morning was taken up by going for a swim at a little beach 10 mins walk away. The water was positively warm. 

We set up a serious sun shade for the back of the boat and that kept things a little less oven-like. A few little snagging tasks, and engine checks, and detailed passage planning with tides, and filling the water, and reading/dozing in the shade ... the day goes gently by. We feel re-charged and ready for a 13 hour leg tomorrow. 

Brunsbuttel to Cuxhaven

The usual (half)wit has deserted me for today's title; the heat has sapped my synapses.

Last night we got lucky again; we did the whole canal in 9 hours instead of the expected 10 ... and who can tell me why? Well, because as everyone says the canal is 98 km or 60 miles, but we only recorded 53 miles - cutting corners?! No, it's the difference btw land miles and nautical miles, and btw mph and knots. Anyway the lucky bit was getting the last pontoon space in the tiny Brunsbuttel yacht harbour, just inside the lock. We had a noisy night under the locks' arc lights as 20,000 ton ships rumble past us literally 30 metres away into their lock.

This morning again we were anxious about getting through the lock, but it was all fine. We telephoned the Lock master because the website says 'do NOT use VHF from private craft', only to be told we should call on VHF! That felt strange after 3 years (the Harbours & Marinas in the Baltic don't use VHF, you just rock up and find a berth). He said to come over so we did and jilled for less than 10 mins then got the flashing white only light to proceed. There was only a barge and 2 motor boats - no other yachts. 10 mins later we were released into the Elbe.

We had decided last night just to make the 15nm leg to Cuxhaven, because to make the tides work to reach Helgoland in one go required leaving at 5 am. Not necessary!

We had F5 from behind with a lumpy sea and lots of shipping, so prudence said just motor on. We were doing 8.5kn over the ground aided by 3kn of tide by the time we reached Cuxhaven, which made for an interesting sideways slide into the narrow marina entrance. No drama, until someone clouted their knee on a winch - always happens, just a matter of when, hurts like hell for a while. One of the many things we've learnt over the years is that boats don't always have to be moving to be under control; you can stop her and then attend to mishaps or assess your mooring options calmly, just keeping an eye on the drift 

Although we came to this SVC Marina on the way out in 2017, we didn't remember it. So last night we researched their website and the almanac and Google maps satellite mode, so we knew exactly where the ideal berths were. And, lo! There was a free berth just where we wanted, a downwind pontoon no less.

The pics are in the marina - look closely and you'll see two people swimming down the middle. Quite dangerous, very un-Germanic to break the rules. 

After a short rest we taxi'd off to Edeka and bought €100 of food; the lockers and fridge are bulging. This pm we just lay in shade and panted. After much discussion of charts, tides and weather, we have decided on a rest day here tomorrow and then straight to Norderney on Fri. Yep, tomorrow there's too much wind and on Fri there's too little; as we're being cautious, we'll take the latter. 

Goodbye to the tideless sea

Another early start, for a quick one kilometre motor to the entrance to the Kiel Canal lock.

We were a tad nervous about it, given our experience 3 years ago. Back then we were caught up in chaos as the backwash from a giant tanker's engine swept yachts in all directions inside the lock. We survived unscathed due to Nic' s quick reactions.

So this time we were mentally prepared. But there was no need. Only a few yachts chugged into the massive lock and there was one smallish tanker with his engine off. Quick and easy, what a relief. But farewell to the blue waters of the Baltic.

We had been planning to take two days to traverse the 60 miles of canal. However we were safely through the lock by 0830 and decided to do the whole thing in one go, staying the night just inside the opposite end of the canal.

It has been roasting hot all day - about 30C.

Nic has set up a sunshade for whoever is on the helm (we do 2 hours on, 2 off) which has a 'chequered' history. It is in fact, a tablecloth. (See pic)

It was bought in a Danish charity shop for 4 euros, used to wrap our precious charts for the train journey to Germany, and used as a temporary sheet in the heat of our forepeak bedroom. Now it is a 'bimini', held up by clothes pegs to the backstay.

The best 4 euros we ever spent.

We have been passed by maybe a dozen large container ships or oil tankers (See pic). Far fewer than last time we were here, 3 years ago. The wake they create slaps our boat around like a toy in the bath. But this canal is a wonderful piece of engineering which cuts 100s of miles off the journey and we are grateful for it.

First leg

Another Scorching Day and largely windless. We managed half an hour with the engine off; the rest was motorsailing to keep up the minimum 5 knots that ensures we reach our destination. Pic shows Lesley happy on helm.

In fact by cutting a corner and going through a 'Uboot exercises area' (sadly no Uboots were spotted), we did it in 8 hours for 40 nm (nautical miles).

We found a berth quite easily in what was originally the British Kiel Yacht Club, now a German marina. Everywhere now has the automated machines where you pay for your berth and are given the code for the toilet & shower block ... except here. Because we got to the office at 1705 we were classed as a late arrival - office closed - "you must walk 500m to hotel to get entry card, and put cash into letter box". Soooo old-fashioned and a damned nuisance in this heat. 

The Kiel area is like the Solent in the UK, very boaty with lots of beautiful yachts, example in pic.

Vittled and watered

One day left to departure meant a massive shopping trip to get food and drink staples and fresh stuff. 

Lesley went with mask and gloves in a prebooked taxi. It was one of the island's biggest supermarkets but very busy and as usual, hard to find what was on our list. 

She thought she had booked a return cab,  but it turned out the cab firm had  'no taxi for 2 hours, nein!'' There was some waiting outside the supermarket in stinking heat with 130 euros worth of food, until a rival taxi firm came to the rescue. 

In the meantime Nic was tidying away clothes, cushions, an unwanted liferaft- frame, making the bed, filling water bottles- you get the picture. Once the food was crammed into the boat fridge, our lovely boat felt like home again, ready to go.

We spent a happy two hours doing the chartwork and navigation for Monday's first leg to Kiel. The forecast is for easterly winds, force 4, and we are going west - fingers crossed that weather holds!

Tonight our first meal on the boat for a year- a very basic old dish of meat stew, plus no alcohol beer. (See pic) Tomorrow is an early start for our 45 mile, 9 hour trip to the start of the Kiel Canal. So goodnight from us and the boat.

Dressed and almost ready to go

Aagh it is SO hot! Total lack of wind this morning was perfect for putting the sails on; everything went smoothly, no tangles, still takes 4 hrs with all the ropes (generic term), battens and ties. Then reconnected all mast electrics, a sweaty job at sub cabin floor level due to keel-stepped mast. All appears to be working. So now she's 'dressed', with just a few jobs left.

Had 2 hours off this pm to visit our lovely friends Susan and Rene - they gave us superior kaffee kuchen. We will come back to stay with them on this delightful island of Fehmarn even though the boat won't be here. 

V busy in Burgstaaken harbour including some interesting classic boats (yday a British tall ship was in, forgot to get pic). 

Floating free

Today started at 0545, preparing the boat for the nerve wracking process of being lifted into the water and having her mast reattached by crane.

The photos show it all happened as planned. And best of all, we got a prime position in the marina on a hammerhead pontoon. The engine started like a dream after sitting for a whole year. All this was done in stinking heat, and many other jobs reattaching the boom, tensioning the stays,  and collecting the clean sails which had been couriered to us from the UK.

We are exhausted but happy. Our darling boat is floating again and that makes the world feel like a better place.

(Too) many trains

The day started well, leaving our comfortable Premier Inn room for a 5 min stroll to St Pancras and a crisply on time Eurostar to Brussels (pic from my seat - not busy).

Then comes the harder bit; five trains across Northern Europe, with some tight changes (pic). All was well until Dusseldorf where the Hamburg train would be 60 (sixty) minutes late ... in Germany ... whoever heard of such a thing! We would miss the connection to Lubeck. So we jumped onto another train to Hamburg requiring a tight extra change at Hannover. Getting slightly sweaty now; as bad as missing a tidal gate with a foul wind.

Semi-realtime reporting now. Hannover was a mess, but we survived: arrived 3 minutes late (yes. I know, but in an 8 min transfer it matters); raced to advertised platform but turned away - last minute change; down the steps and up the escalator again; screen says 1st class at front (yes, I know, but we're going for lowest density of travellers), but it's actually at the rear. So we're v sweaty (well I am, L is glowing) in quite busy 2nd class. That was worse than wind over tide on the Elbe estuary ... well, not quite.

Puff ... Puff ... late in again, made the change at Hamburg to the Lubeck train by running, with only a minute to spare. The lift wasn't working and if we hadn't positioned ourselves first out of the door we would not have made it. Deeply disappointed in Deutsche Bahn. Maybe it's because all the businessmen are on hols in Aug.

And we're on the last train, (actually the seventh train of the day)Lubeck to Fehmarn Burg - just a small frisson of uncertainty because there were two trains on the same platform so the signage (to a non German speaker) was confusing. To be fair,  the DB staff have been unremittingly friendly and helpful.

OMG we've arrived in our little apartment - the taxi was ready for us at the station, and Jutta was ready for us here. A blizzard of unpacking and off to zzzzz

First step

Our first stage of a long journey came today, from Plymouth to London to stay in a faceless hotel block close to St Pancras for catching the early Eurostar tomorrow.

It feels quite weird being back in London, hearing sirens and breathing dirty air. But we were able to distract ourselves by chattering about the routing of our yacht trip according to tides and even look at wind predictions for next week...will we really be lucky enough to get easterlies to blow us home? 

We took a stroll from the hotel to the nearest green space in Tavistock Square, a dusty haven for pigeons and crows. It turned out to have sculptures of Gandhi, (see pic)Virginia Woolf and the first female surgeon, and also something which was a moving reminder of Lesley's grandfather George Brogden. There is a large stone memorial to Conscientious Objectors. (Pic) George was a CO in the First World war and was jailed in Wormwood Scrubs with hard labour. 

Tomorrow will be a long day of many trains but we have masks, gloves and a ton of home made sandwiches. It seems odd to be leaving the UK even though it's now perfectly legal. We will be super careful on our way.