POOH BEAR REPORT - 2004-1, Let the Voyage Begin Starting: London, 14 April 2004 Ending: Ipswich, 15 June 2004 (told on 8 July) Well, the first Pooh Bear Cruising report of 2004 is way overdue, so now maybe is the time get it started. However, I must warn you - it may be a bit disjointed and contain many misspelled words. I should start with "It was a dark and stormy night.." (which it is indeed), but instead I will simply explain that Pooh Bear is lurching from side to side, throwing me about such that my fingers sometimes miss the intended key. And then I go back to do a correction and loose my train of thought. And why am I being thrown about? Because a severe gale is raging over northwest Europe. And why are we out in a severe gale? We're not. We are berthed in the Victoria Marina at St. Peter Port on the Isle of Guernsey, one of the Channel Islands. But a severe gale certainly is raging just outside and, when the storm center passed to the south of us a short time ago, coincident with high tide, the winds veered to the north-east and seas surged through the outer breakwater. Conditions in the marina became quite violent. Judy and I have just spent an hour in the rain, wind and darkness, with a lot of other yachties, adding and adjusting lines as the boats slam about. So far, we have no damage, but some others have had lines snap, cleats pull out, and teak railing ripped off. Not a pretty sight. The chaos is compounded by the number of boats crammed into the inner harbor. Many are cruisers like ourselves - after all it is mid-summer and the peak of the boating season. But many are refugees from the neighboring island of Alderney that has no harbor protected from northeast winds. When this storm was predicted a couple of days ago, they moved here en masse, the only protect harbor - well, sort of protected - in the area. The law of the sea has always said no vessel may be denied refuge from a storm, so the port authorities pack them in. Two thirty-five foot sailboats are rafted (tied along side) Pooh's port side. It is the same all around us. There must be over 800 boats in a marina designed to accommodate 200. But despite a dozen nationalities close about, it is a congenial group, all helping each other. And in the inner harbor, we are having it good. Lee and Joe Minick on Southern Cross, a Mason 43, being too big to be accommodated in the inner harbor at this time, are moored on one of four isolated (meaning no connection to land) pontoons in the outer harbor. They, too, are rafted 3 and more deep. And as the wind has veered northeast, I suspect seas several feet high are rolling directly into the harbor entrance and creating havoc with the closely packed boats. (I have since learned they were up all night tending lines, moving fenders, and retying boats that came adrift. They suffered no real damage other than several mooring lines totally destroyed by chafe or breakage, often the result of incompetence or inattention of other crews.) But I am getting ahead of myself. This cruise started on 14 April, and it now being 8 July, I should explain where all the time went. Unfortunately, much of it was waiting out gales. It has been a terrible summer with a weather pattern typical of October and November. Low pressure centers, some as low as 970 mb, have paraded across the Atlantic, dipping as low as 40 degrees latitude, then swinging north-east passing across Ireland and central England and giving us strong to gale westerly head winds. Or maybe they pass over northern France giving us strong to gale northeasterlies as we have now. And a few have come right up the English Channel making a real mess everywhere. One such storm occurred while we were holed up Dover. The winds reached Force 10 in the harbor, about 45 knots - all cross channel ferries (actually big ships) ceased operation for many hours) - Force 12, over 65 knots, was recorded in the Channel. The records show it to have been the worst June storm in 60 years. And the Dover storm wasn't the first delay. But going back to the beginning (as Winnie-the-Pooh would say, "always the best place to start"), we returned to London from the States right on schedule - no delays for a change. We had our cruising plan clearly defined - in company with Joe and Lee Minick on Southern Cross, there would be a short stint in a boat yard, then a sail west the length of the English Channel, a left turn down the French and Iberian coast to Gibraltar, then east the length of the Mediterranean to Turkey - 3500 miles before 1 September. Ambitious! We left St. Katharine's in London on 14 April exactly as planned - and in good weather with a fair west wind. But it was a sad day. We were leaving so many good friends made while in London for four winters - many we would likely never see again. Judy and I felt as if we were leaving home. The last week had been a series of parties, with both fellow cruisers and land bound Brit friends. As we locked out of St. Katharine Haven into the Thames for that final time, we were very touched by the number of people there to see us off - some fellow cruisers, some Brits, along with most of the St. Katharine's staff. Among those present were Paul Abram and his wife, Joanna. Paul is the chaplain for the 700-year-old church in the Tower of London where we attended services during our time in London. We all bowed our heads as Paul said a blessing over Pooh Bear and Southern Cross, asking for God's protection for boats and crews on our 3500-mile voyage. As we pointed Pooh downstream for the fourth and final time, and waved until the group on the lock wall were mere specks, we tried to bolster our spirits by laughing and asking if maybe they were really all there only to make sure we really left this time. It didn't help. And even as I write this, I feel a bit sad. Again, the downside of cruising. That first night we made our obligatory stop at Queenborough with a fine dinner at Nic's, but missed the Flying Dutchman totally. Regrettably, we also missed saying goodbye to David Holden as he was both ill and buried in work. The following day, again exactly as planned, we motored north across the Thames Estuary and it's labyrinth of sand banks to Harwich (again remember no "w" - it is pronounced like "hair- itch"). Then up the River Orwell, arriving exactly on schedule in Ipswich (remember, is pronounced like "Ips-wich" - surely you wouldn't say "ips-itch" would you). Late in the day, we tied up on the waiting pontoon of Ipswich Haven Marina, again as planned. We were greeted by Dave and Ruth on Islay (whom we met last year on the German Frisian Island of Norderney just before our "Riddle of the Sands" adventure). The following morning, promptly at 0800 (as promised), the travel lift roared to life. Wayne and Chris quickly hauled Southern Cross, then Pooh Bear, and blocked us side by side in a most efficient and professional manner. One of the nice touches was the final one, when Wayne asked if the fore and aft trim was proper to allow the decks to drain. In the following weeks, we found Ispwich Haven Marina was well staffed, the best run and the cleanest, though not the least expensive, boat yard we have encountered. We arrived with our work laid out to take 2 weeks (very optimistic), probably 3 weeks (well, maybe), and at the very most 4 weeks (at the very outside). In fact, exactly 8 weeks later, 15 June, Pooh Bear cast off lines at Ipswich and motored down the river Orwell, starting a 3500 miles trip to Turkey, already four weeks late. Southern Cross, with major dental problems, had flown back to their dentist in the States so were still not quite ready, but would rejoin us later. But please, don't blame all of the delay on laziness. Weeks of perfect spring weather ended with the haul out at the boat yard. There followed two weeks of miserable wet, cold, windy weather where very little could be accomplished. But all was not lost. Ipswich is an old historic area with many historical sights to visit even in the bad weather. For instance, one night we took a bus tour of old outlying pubs in company with a bunch of "regulars" who knew as much about the history of each pub as the tour guide. The Minicks and the Baileys also took a day trip on a Thames sailing barge out of Maldon, a train and bus ride south. It was a chance to see how cargo was moved by sail in the late 1800s and on up to the 1920s. The Thistle was built in 1895 and is the oldest Scottish built iron sailing barge still in operation. The cargo hold has been converted to serve meals to the 40 plus persons on board. And we ate constantly and well. The shallow rivers and sandbanks dictate their sailing schedules - in our case departure near high water around 10 AM and return around high water, around 10 PM. During the day trip, we made friends with the skipper Dave and his deck hand/son, Simon. Simon lives in Ipswich and graciously offered to drive us back to our marina on his way home, thereby avoiding the return bus and train ride at midnight. Actually we were to see them a number of times later when they were taking charters out of Ipswich and docking directly across from our marina. I even got a free evening ride down the River Orwell and back during one charter. We found Ipswich a fascinating town on it own with history going way back. In fact, it was a Roman port - making it really old even on the European scale! Yet it had all the conveniences of a modern city including supermarkets, chandleries, tool rentals (where we got on a first name basis), an excellent internet shop, and an old time hardware store downtown (unfortunately, soon to be closing). Three weeks came and went and we were just started on the boat work. And as always, we kept discovering new things that needed doing. While Judy's projects moved along quite efficiently, mine lagged. I lost several days trying to work out bugs in doing our e-mail via the telephone. That was resolved by buying a fancy new "top of the line Motorola quad band GPRS cell phone with Bluetooth capability to link it to the computer". Oh Wow! Actually, we settled into a comfortable routine where Joe and I went at least once a day to the eatery within the boat yard for coffee and to discuss world problems - and to chat with Ruth, our delightful Irish waitress. At least once or twice a week we went to Neptune Caf‚ or the Glasshouse for breakfast. The former was the epitome of a "greasy spoon" with the nicest lady owner. On too many evenings we and the Minicks, and later joined by Bob and Cindy Cross from Godspeed (also from St. Katharine's), went out for dinner. The choice of good eating places was limited only by our wallet and belt sizes. And on several occasions we were "forced" into additional eating out by the arrival of cruising friends from previous years. Oh, the drudgery of it all. And at week five, I decided to modify the hull shape around the propeller aperture to hopefully improve our motoring performance (something we do a lot of). Finally after 6 weeks of climbing up and down a 12 foot rental ladder 20 or so times a day, we agreed all the essential jobs were done and it was time to go back in the water. On 1 June we did. But, don't jump to conclusions. Much remained to be done. Our sails, that had been out for cleaning and repair, had to be bent on; the Dutchman furling system had to be reinstalled; the sail cover had to be reinstalled, modified and rereinstalled; the radar mount that we spent a gross amount of money getting repaired had to be reinstalled; the engine was still to be serviced and tested. And once again, cruising friends from five years past happened on us and, once again we had to go out and eat! And Judy had to provision for our voyage as if we were going around the world non-stop. Once again Pooh Bear sank lower into the water. Eight weeks after our arrival, 15 June, we cast off from Ipswich and motored down the River Orwell. You might think that being four weeks later than planned, we would be elated at being underway. While we were, we were also a bit sad. We had made new friends and grown quite fond of an area to which we would likely never return. End of PB Rpt 2004-1, Let the Voyage Begin