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.