Going North at last

Since the last edition of this blog we have seen a few firsts for Vagabond

We have turned north round Lands End

Vagabond has settled on the bottom at low water

The dinghy has been used and now resides in an untidy heap on the foredeck

We have been accompanied by Dolphin and a seal

We’ve sailed in a stiff breeze in fog

The sun has come out.

There, that’s the executive summary of this and the next episode. Very busy readers can go and do more important stuff. For the rest of you, please read on!



We cast off from our raft of boats in Penzance harbour last Sunday (12th July) at about nine o’clock. It was too early to start the trip round Lands End if we were to get the tides right, but if we hadn’t left, we’d have been locked by the “gate” in until the next high water.



Manacles Warning



We found a buoy in the bay and settled down in the unaccustomed sun to a second breakfast, finally leaving at just after ten. The wind was northerly in Penzance Bay, so we had it and the tide on our stern as we wafted past the Manacles (what a lovely name for a group of rocks) and then past Mousehole. 

Mousehole

At the next headland we turned a bit towards the South West and the wind veered to be on “the nose” as we shaped course for the Runnel Stone, the “entrance” to the passage round Lands End.

Our arrival time at the Runnel Stone was critical: if we were too late, we missed favourable tide to St Ives. On came Freddie. Visibility deteriorated to less than a mile. We could just see the shore line away to starboard. AIS warnings gave me the hint that there were a fishing boats about. Suddenly, without any warning, a rowing boat, with a solitary man with rod and line, appeared out of the mist, almost dead ahead.

Lantern Cove

We failed to hit each other.

We motored past lantern cove (I wonder the entomology of that name)  and then the Runnel Stone, or rather the Buoy marking it,  emerged from the mist. We could now turn to the North, to aim at the Longships Rocks; well, not actually at them, but I work on the basis that provided you can see them you then know where they (and you)  are!

Freddie went quiet and the sails and tide did their stuff. We were no longer drifting but chuckling along at more than 6 kn.   Visibility improved as the Longships came into view.

We rounded the lighthouse at the end of Longships rocks and the mists at sea dispersed. We were sailing in a sea that was dark blue ahead and slate grey behind. The North West Coast of Cornwall edged past, still occasionally wreathed in mist, showing the industrial history on the skyline of the cliff. Chimneys of the furnaces that raised the steam to power those beam engines of Trevithick. Horizontal cave mouths in the cliffs that once had discharged the water pumped by those engines.



Longships



Industrial past on the cliffs in the mists



The wind stayed in the West for the rest of the trip. With the tide in our favour, we rounded the last point to take us into St Ives bay ahead of schedule (a first!).  We were too early – the harbour was still a sandy beach, with children playing on it and local boats resting on it. We found a buoy in the “offing” and contemplated staying there for the night. Despite arriving early, the log showed that we had averaged just under 4kn for 34 miles.

Rolling on the buoy outside St Ives

However, it was too uncomfortable so, as soon as the tide had risen and the beach had become a harbour, up came the centre board and  I took Vagabond in, whilst keeping a wary eye on the depth.  We were greeted by the harbour seal as we looked for the expected visitors “drying” moorings – by the Woolworths building, as the pilot book so helpfully told us.

That shop is long gone but there were a number of small buoys bobbing about. Each of these proved to be attached by a light line to large slimy mooring rope that I assumed was anchored to something on the bottom. I hauled one aboard and secured it to post the sampson post on the foredeck. Now we had to lift the rudder and centre board then pump up the dinghy so we  go ashore to forage for supper.

My calculations suggested Vagabond would “take to the ground” at about 2 o’clock, so I went to
bed about ten, fully prepared to have to do something drastic at 2. You would think that this would have prevented me from sleeping.....

I was woken from a deep sleep at 2 by the sound o wavelets breaking and a couple of slight bumps. Then all was quiet and still.  I went back to sleep, to be woken at about 7 o’clock by the sound of the breaking wavelets as the water returned. It was time to be up and busy; ready to leave before the water disappeared again.