So, along with my (foolishly brave) friends James and Tim, I decided to take my (not so) new yacht on its maiden voyage - at least the first proper voyage under my skipperage.After an execrable winter trying to get her ready for a summer's sailing season, and an even more execrable summer still trying to get her ready, she was finally launched on the 10th August and since I had only had a few short trips around the coast between Shoreham and Brighton. But at last I was due to take her to Cowes for a decent outing and see what she was made of.
The weather forecast for the weekend changed every day I looked. From Westerlies to Northerlies to Easterlies and back to Northerlies. Perfect; a nice flat sea and a single reach all the way there and all the way back.
Plus it was the highest tide of the year, so if we timed it right we'd get a lift all the way there on a good spring tide. Convening at 0800 on Saturday morning ready to get the 09.00 lock opening out of Shoreham we were due to make good progress in the promised 15 knots from the North and once the tide turned the ebb would take us all the way to Cowes.
So when 09.00 came and went and the lock didn't open, I should have guessed this was an omen of things to come. Turns out the small boat lock was down for maintenance that weekend and we'd have to wait until the 10.00 Ship lock opened. Hmmm. Should still just about make it through the Looe Channel at slack tide.
And lo, it was a beautiful day with 10 knots from the North and we broad reached for the Bill... As the wind backed to the East we tried goosewinging and continued to make good progress. Until that is, instead of building the wind started to drop off. 8 knots, 5 knots, 0 knots. After a few hilarious cock-ups with the spinnaker (which we did finally get flying) and still not making more than 2 or 3 knots over the ground (with a 2.5 knot tide with us !), we chose the better side of valour and fired up the croaky old horses. With 12 of them pushing us along at nearly 7 knots in the height of the ebb, we were back on track to clear Selsely Bill and make it, at least most of the way to the Solent before the tide turned again.
Apart from demolishing a crate of beers and most of a bottle of rum (obviously none for the skipper, of course - ed.) the rest of the journey into Cowes was pretty uneventful. The engine not quite powerful enough to get us there before dark, but still a respectable 10 hours after leaving Shoreham.
Here the fun started, my lovely little engine ( Bless it ! Grrr) decided that after powering along for so long at high revs that it just wouldn't bother with the low revs stuff. Add to this a full East Cowes Marina in the dark, it made for an interesting mooring exercise. Having to come in at full revs, and park in a tiny space between very expensive yachts. Fortunately James was pretty quick with the fender as I slammed into the pontoon. Parking a boat with an engine that only runs at high revs is not exactly a calm entrance - thankfully at 20.00 everyone was in the pub. Nevertheless we managed to finally moor up without damaging us or the million pound yachts around us.
Somewhat more tired than we had expected, we only managed dinner and a couple of pints in the pub before back to the boat to finish the rum and a comatose sleep, praying for some wind on Sunday to take us home.
Well! We woke up on Sunday and although at first it appeared to be even stiller than yesterday, by the time we had motored out of the Medina river it became apparent our prayers had been answered... If only we'd been more specific. The perfect sailing wind of 16-18 knots was blowing from the East, the exact direction we wanted to go in... Bugger...
As I say, perfect sailing wind, steadily building to 20+ knots. With one reef in, we had excellent fun racing the other early morning Solent goers, tacking up toward Horse Sands Fort, dodging the Wight Link Ferry, Ryde Fast Cat, the Hover Craft and the 500 tonne Navy vessels... That is until pushing the port tack just a little too far proved to us that even when the Depth Sounder says 10 metres, you can still run aground in the shifting sands of Ryde. Bugger(again). Even though we were on a rising tide and would float off soon, we needed to get off urgently, we had no time to lose to continue with the flood behind us past the Bill. Fortunately, as an instructor of mine had contended that "if you don't run aground you're not trying hard enough", I had had plenty of experience of the bottom of Poole Harbour. Simply hail a passing fishing boat, get them to take a line to a halyard, heel you over and drag you out.
40 minutes wasted... This was going to be a challenge getting through the channel in time...
With relatively inexperienced crew and a generally lazy attitude I decided to take long tacks toward Selsey Bill. This was my first (surely about 10th? - ed.) mistake. The tide had turned and the ebb was starting to carry us, which along with the the leeway made in 20 knots of easterly meant we were tacking through about 160 degrees over the ground. Making very slow head way indeed.
6 hours ! Yes, 6 hours later, we had managed the four miles to round Selsey bill. At one point we were tacking up and down more-or-less on the spot. That was depressing. We short-tacked though the channel, and finally had cleared the Bill.
However, it was now 18.00, and we were still 25 miles from Shoreham, upwind... more like 40 through the water. It was getting dark, we'd been tacking for 10 hours and were just about half way... At least the tide was about to turn again in 2 hours, and we might make a VMG of over 2 Nautical Miles per Hour toward Shoreham.
4 hours later, we were 15 miles from Shoreham and knackered. Worst was we could see the lights from Worthing Pier, so it felt like we were almost home, yet there was still a good 2 or 3 hours sailing to go, the wind was rising to a steady 26 knots and in the dark it was quite exhilarating, with boat speed regularly hitting 8 knots or more.
Midnight. OK, its beginning to get a bit frustrating now. Still 7 miles to Shoreham. Tim is asleep in the saloon, James is asleep clipped into the pushpit. We are about to pass Worthing Pier.
01.00. 2 miles to Shoreham. Right, fuck this, I don't care if the engine is knackered, I wanna get the 0130 lock gate in. Engine on, Genoa Furled. Direct Course to the Lighthouse set.
01.10. Engine dies. Genoa unfurled. At this point I got on the radio to the Lock-keepers to explain our lack of engine, and could I sail into the Lock. Thankfully they had a Pilot boat taking a ship out at 01.30, so if I could get there by about 01.45 they could probably tow me back in.
So, after waking up James & Tim we start tacking in, desperate to make it to the harbour before the pilot finishes and goes back home.
01.30. 1.5 miles west of Shoreham. Fucking Lobster Pot. In the dark we sailed straight over a lobster pot, which kindly decides to wrap its line around our keel. After slowly coming to a halt, we start drifting back and pirouette around the damn pot.
I have now been beating to windward for nearly 20 hours. The very last thing I want to be doing is leaning over the side of the boat trying to cut us free, but what choice was there ?
01.45. All the bits of rope I can reach have been cut, but we're still stuck.
Fuck this. 'Pan Pan, Pan Pan, Pan Pan. This is Yacht Take Five, Take Five, Take Five. Over'
'Pan Pan Take Five, this is Solent Coastguard can we help ? Over'
...
02.45 Shoreham Inshore Life Boat arrives on the scene.
03.45 We finally arrive on dry land, tied up at the visitors pontoon in Shoreham harbour. 20 hours exactly since leaving Cowes.
On the plus side, whilst I have proved that my passage planning may lead a little to be desired, and my engine is a bunch of shite, Take Five otherwise really looked after us. She was fast through the water, with a kindly motion. Easy and forgiving to sail. Oh, and night sailing in a force 6 is loads of fun... for a few hours.
Who's up for the next trip ?
Oh, and I'm taking donations for a new engine :-)
