I had intended to stay in Poole for a couple of days. The next day, early in the morning, I went off to find petrol (Petrol* stations are increasingly difficult to find when walking and you can't really carry a can on a bus) so I had a long walk. I returned to Vagabond to notice that the wind was Easterly. Not what was originally forecast. A quick down load of a GRIB file confirmed a slight change to the wind forecast: Easterly at first, veering to the South after midday. Just what we needed to get us to Portland. Already it was warm and it would be hot in the cockpit with a wind abaft the beam. Shorts would be the order of the day.
There was a hint of cumulus clouds over the coast line to the South West.
“Sea Breeze will set in” I thought, “let’s go”.
By now it was about half ten; the sandwiches and mid trip coffee were made in double quick time and we were off. I started tacking along in Poole harbour but thought this was wasting time: we needed to get to the sea.
“The wind will be OK in the entrance channel, and if not there it will be fair once round Saint Albans head, so I’ll be able to sail most of the way. Besides , we had to catch the tide round the various headlands on the way.
On came Freddie; he stayed that way until we reached Portland seven hours later. The wind proved non-existent once we reached the end of the channel from Poole, although some lucky people were drifting in.
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| Drifting slowly in... |
It wasn't any better when we had rounded St Albans head.
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| Old Harry |
So, hugging the coast we went past Old Harry, past Swanage and round Anvil point and heading out to sea a bit to miss the tide race of Saint Albans Head. We then aimed across the great bight between St Albans head and Portland. Crossing the tide race at St Albans was interesting, for, although We were at least 3 miles off shore (the recommended distance) – we negotiated breaking waves, unpredictable crests a d troughs and, once through, a thoroughly confused sea for a mile or so. Nearer the shore, I could see a line of breaking waves.
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| Layers of Dinosaurs |
We saw the Jurassic coast in the distance (this is where dinosaur fossils were first identified as such in the 19th Century) and motored on. Almost, but not quite, in company with a few other yachts. Young Guillemots scooted out of our way, diving if they thought we were too threatening.
Despite being so far off shore, in my attempt to head “straight” for Portland, we obviously were into the gunnery range off Dorset, for the range safety boat rushed up and chivvied us further out to sea. The Isle of Portland emerged above the horizon to the West and then, at last, Portland harbour hove into sight. It’s vast and it took ages to approach it. I’ve found this every leg so far, the approach to the end takes ages. You think the voyage is nearly over and it’s at least another three hours before you’ve stopped.
Once inside we chugged across the harbour (an enormous man made enclosure, about 2 miles square, 30 feet deep, built between the Isle of Portland and the mainland, using Chesil beach as the Western barrier. Just imagine how it must have looked when we really had a real Navy. We followed the marked channel (which goes round two sides of the square) to try to avoid all the dinghies harbour to reach the Marina. None the less we came within 3 metres** or so of a couple of boats bearing the team GB logo as we wanted to different ways round the same buoy. But we missed each other........ I was tired and slightly deaf; my knees were red. The Marina in Portland is vast – I assume it will be full at the Olympics – the snag is that there is no real infrastructure beyond one bar, where I supped a pint of ale whilst watching the light change on the moored fleet.
For the record, Vagabond was “parked” 500 double paces along pontoons from the shore exit (that’s about half a Roman mile). ***
I suppose I should really have gone on to Weymouth Town...
For my transatlantic readers
* Gas
**10 feet (imperial / US)
For non Classic Roman readers
***0.5 miles (Imperial/US), 800 m (metric)
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