From: Subject: POOH BEAR REPORT - 2004-2, Westward Down the Channel Date: Wed, 6 Oct 2004 19:52:15 -0000 (GMT) POOH BEAR REPORT - 2004-2, Westward Down the Channel Starting: Walton Backwaters near Harwich, 15 June 2004 Ending: Guernsey, Channel Islands, 8 July 2004 In Pooh Bear Report 2004-1, we had completed our work at the Ipswich Haven Marina and sailed on the first leg of our 3500-mile voyage. A short leg it was, being but 20 miles down the Orwell, past Harwich a little nip out into the North Sea, then back inshore to the Walton Backwaters - Arthur Ransome country. In my childhood I was never without books - mostly technical books, adventure books, and sailing books. I was particularly taken with Arthur Ransome's series of sailing books such as "Swallows and Amazons" and "We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea". I read and reread them each many times forming mental pictures of each setting. These settings remain as clear today as when I read them nearly 70 years ago. As we motored down the Orwell past Pin Mill, the opening and closing location for "We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea", I knew now was my last opportunity to compare my mental images with the real thing. I wished for a week, but could only spare a day. And in that day, a very short day at that, I concluded Arthur Ransome painted a great word picture - it was almost exactly as I pictured it - except maybe a lot more mud flats at low tide. And the water was a lot muddier than I thought it would be. And Captain Flint's island was much lower than I thought. But... maybe in the intervening years my memory did enhance the scenes a bit. Instead of the week I wished for to explore the Walton Backwaters, we anchored only one short night in Hamford waters, leaving with first light to catch a fair tide - destination Oostende, Belgium (why are fair tides always at four in the morning?). The weather for our crossing of the North Sea was quite moderate. However the wind was close on the bow and we were very keen on arriving in Oostende harbor before dark. (Of course, dark didn't begin until 2200 and ended by 0500). We motorsailed all the way, thereby setting a precedence, I fear. By 2030 we were in Oostende harbor secured to a pontoon 20 feet directly under the fish market. And where else would a thousand and one seagulls roost? I'll leave it to the reader to imagine the results. Though not moored in the ideal spot, we had a wonderful two days in Belgium. The first full day we toured the city of Oostende. The second day we rode the train into Brugge and explored the lovely old town. Another day in Oostende would have been nice, but a gale, the first of many to come, lurked in our future and there was no better spot to await it than in Dover. Again, an early start, with winds near on the nose though moderate, so once more we motorsailed. Remembering that our friends on Whoosh had been boarded by French Customs offshore from Dunkirque, we laid a course way offshore past that area. While we escaped the clutches of French Customs, we did not escape the wind gods. As the day wore on, the winds veered westerly building into the mid 30s with big, steep seas. Definitely ugly. And definitely not Pooh Bear's weather. The last two hours were a slow, wet, miserable bash, but by 2000, still broad daylight at this latitude, we were awaiting approval to enter the busy Port of Dover. Unknown to us, Lee and Joe on Southern Cross sailed from Ipswich as we sailed from Oostende. They took quite a drubbing getting into Ramsgate 20 miles to the north. And the following day, with the impending gale only 24 hours away, made a dash down to join us at Dover. A good decision as the following day the predicted storm arrived and the weather turned dreadful. Accompanied by heavy rain, the winds reached the Severe Storm category, a Force 10, about 45 knots, in Dover Harbor closing the port. For many hours ferries (and we're talking big ships) could neither enter nor leave port as they could not be safely docked even with the aid of tugs. In the English Channel winds were clocked at hurricane force, 65 knots. Vessels caught between ports took shelter behind a huge area of sandbanks to the north, the Goodwin Sands. Only later did we learn that two of our Scottish sailing friends, Joey and Verna, were aboard one of those ferries holding offshore for eight hours. The weather office classed the storm as the worst June storm in 60 years. But, "It is an Ill Wind that Blows No Good" - (a little saying I just made up), as it was the opportunity for Judy to organize a tour of Pooh Country. With a nice rented car - had to pay extra for automatic shift but had to make do without cruise control - the four of us drove 50 or so miles to the northwest. Although I have driven on the left side of the road in Australia, that was 30 years ago. And the traffic in Alice Springs was not too taxing. However, I had no difficulty, there being 1 driver with 3 people telling me where to go (maybe normal). It might sound better if I said we had 1 driver and 3 navigators. They really did a superb job reading the maps, checking road signs and coaching me through the round-abouts. We missed only two turns during the entire day - and one of those was back in Dover traffic trying to get into the service station. At Pooh Corner we purchased Pooh memorabilia, then walked the path to Pooh's bridge where we played Pooh Sticks and spread a picnic lunch. We walked through the "100 Acre Woods" and admired the English countryside from the monument erected by Christopher Robin Milne to his father and to E. H. Shepard, the illustrator of the Pooh Bear books. Although not a sunny day, we escaped the rain and wind of the Channel. A wonderful day - and had it not been for the gale, we would have left England never having visited Pooh Country. One day shy of a week in Dover, we escaped west to Brighton. While we actually had fair winds, we were most anxious to make Brighton in daylight and get tucked before the next schedule gale, so again, motorsailed all the way. Turned out to be only a "near gale" and lasted only one day. The day trip to Gosport was what had become the norm - we motorsailed into strong WSW winds. But we arrived in good time at Gosport. For eight days, partly by plan and partly by the succession of gales, Pooh Bear and Southern Cross waited in the shelter of the green lightship at Hasler Marina. Certainly a very nice waiting place, but it would be hard to envision a marina design that could put the marina office further from those that use it most - the transient yachts. Two years ago Judy and I has toured Portsmouth, just across the river, with its vast amount of British naval history. But once again, the "Ill wind...." comes to mind. Leaving Pooh in the watchful care of the Minicks, with Southern Cross being berthed directly astern, Judy and I traveled by train to Swindon where my English cousin Bill, and his wife Mary, picked us up for a drive to their home in Purton. We had a wonderful time visiting, reviewing the latest information on the family tree, and hearing of their plans for another trip to Texas this year. I wish we could be there. I would surely meet some relatives, maybe some as yet unknown to me. After a quick three days, Bill and Mary drove us back to Gosport and had their first view of Pooh Bear. The weather still not being kind for a passage westward, we took a day trip by Hovercraft across the Solent to the Isle of Wight. The Solent is the yachting center of the UK. The Solent is also famous, or infamous depending on your viewpoint, as the site of the New York Yacht Club's schooner America's victory over a fleet of fifteen British yachts in 1851. The America's margin of victory was apparently quite large and when the results of the race were reported to the Queen, she asked who was second. Supposedly the answer was, "Your Highness, there was no second". The trophy, a bottomless pewter mug, became know as the America's Cup and marked the start of the longest running sailing event in history. Our day on the Isle of Wight was great fun with an old steam train ride across part of the island. The following day the crews of Pooh Bear and Southern Cross celebrated the 4th of July with a good old American picnic style meal aboard Pooh. The following day, lagging almost a month behind the time line, we left Gosport for a day sail to Weymouth. The route would normally take us on the north side of the Isle of Wight to reentering the English Channel at the Needles, a line of towering, jagged rocks jutting out from the west end of the island. I looked forward to actually seeing those spectacular rocks. While Judy and I had passed through the Needles Channel two years previous, we saw nothing of the menacing rocks as it was a black, black night and we were blinded by the intensely bright flash of the Needles light. But, once again I was not to see them. The timing on the inside route was such that the tidal current through the Needles would be several knots foul - almost sufficient to stop us dead. Hence we chose the longer, but faster route around the east and south side of the Isle of Wight before setting a course for Weymouth. Unbelievably, the winds were again a contrary SW at 18 to 20, meaning another leg motorsailed all the way. We rafted third boat out in the narrow Weymouth harbor at 1830. Unexpectedly, the forecast for the next day was for light winds. We were resigned to an early morning departure and a motor all or most of the way to Guernsey in the Channel Islands. As we selected a good stout boat to raft against, a crewman made sure we understood they were leaving at 0500. That was fine with us as we planned to leave about that time. As we secured, the owner told us he was leaving, not at 0500, but 0400. We reluctantly said "no problem" as we would be leaving at the same time. We did indeed cast off our lines at 0400 and watched to see if he did. He, in fact, did leave although about 30 minutes later. Our crossing of the English Channel to Guernsey was a non-event. We never even hoisted the mainsail. There was no wind - zero. We motored all the way at maximum cruising rpm, dodging only one ship in the entire crossing. As we passed west of the rocky island of Alderney and the treacherous rocks of the Casquets, ten miles from Guernsey, and were hoisting the Q flag, I looked astern - - there were close to 100 sails in sight. Any inclination to slow the engine was quickly dismissed. We were soon to learn a very deep low pressure center was coming up from France and would bring very strong northeast winds to the area. Alderney, having only one real harbor and it being completely open to the northeast winds, would offer no protection. Every yacht from the area was heading to the same harbor we were - St. Peter Port in Guernsey. Arriving in St. Peter Port outer harbor was definitely not a non-event. The outer harbor was filled with moored boats leaving clear only a narrow winding channel towards the inner harbor. But the inner harbor can only be entered about 2 hours each side of high water as a sill across the entrance maintains about six feet of water inside. When the tide rises above the sill by a sufficient amount, vessels can freely enter and leave the inner harbor. The inner harbor is clearly the most desirable as it is well protected with electricity and water on the pontoons. With yachts of all nationalities arriving and departing, the harbor master had several launches roaring about, meeting each incoming yacht, giving each paperwork to be completed for customs, and directing them to isolated waiting pontoons (no access to land) to hold until the tide level was enough for entry. It was incredibly well organized. We were directed to wait rafted out from a particular boat. As the armada astern arrived, the raft grew and grew, ours eventually reaching out 12 boats! We have never seen anything like it. Fortunately, the winds were light and seas moderate. As the tide reached 2 meters over the sill, the harbormaster's launches began directing each waiting yacht through to the inner harbor and to a specific place on a pontoon. It was a precision drill, except for a few boats that couldn't or wouldn't follow directions. Transient boats were generally directed alongside one of three pontoons or the wall, about seven boats as close bow to stern as possible on each side of each pontoon and along one wall. When all spaces on a pontoon were filled, boats were directed to raft alongside already moored boats. Due consideration was given to rafting powerboats to powerboats, heavy boats against heavy boats, etc. Just when we thought there was no more room anywhere, more boats arrived and always space was found. Pooh Bear, being both early and lucky, was berthed directly on the pontoon with later arrivals rafted alongside. All up and down each pontoon was the same, leaving only a narrow path scarcely a boat width down the entire length of the pontoon. Permanent berth holders mostly occupied the north side of the inner harbor, but any vacant berths were assigned to the transients and larger boats were rafted 3 and 4 deep on the T heads. Boats too large or too deep of draft, Southern Cross included, were directed to four isolated pontoons in the outer harbor. By the time the water level dropped, thereby closing the inner harbor, probably 300 to 400 boats were berthed inside. Absolutely amazing! The following morning, as the deep low swept northeast across France, the winds began to rise and heavy rain set in. Via water taxi, Judy and I made a short visit to Joe and Lee on their isolated pontoon. The water taxi operator told us of having operated in a force 8 and estimated already a force 7 was blowing. Having failed to wear my foul weather gear, I became soaked by the wind driven rain and had to borrow some jeans from Joe before being allowed below. By nightfall the winds were a steady 30 knots, gusting to 40, and the winds were backing southeast. Until mid tide, water was several feet over the sill and seas swept through the outer breakwater and directly into the inner harbor. Judy and I joined dozens of fellow yachtsman, helping each other, tending lines, adding fenders, and placing chafing gear as needed. Merely standing was difficult as the pontoons bucked and heaved. But, it was also a time to meet your neighbors. Having done all we could, we invited Dave and Carol, Brits who had helped us wedge extra fenders between Pooh and the dock, aboard for drinks and to swap sea stories. Later, with Pooh rolling and slamming, sleep would not come, so way into the night I sat, almost needing a seat belt, at the computer writing the first Pooh Bear Report of 2004. As the storm center continued on, the winds backed northeast and the seas no longer swept through both harbors. As the water level fell below the below the sill, the seas in the inner harbor became smooth, but wind gusts still heeled the boats violently. Though improved, the situation in the outer harbor was still bad; Joe and Lee had a terrible night. Thursday morning, conditions improved rapidly and the marina office posted some interesting statistics. Sustained winds of 64 knots, hurricane force, were recorded on the wall of the inner harbor. And 2.5" of rain fell, the largest 24-hour rainfall ever recorded in St. Peter Port. With improving weather, boats departed on each tide cycle only to be replaced by other boats. But Pooh Bear and Southern Cross, Joe and Lee having moved into the inner harbor, stayed put awaiting the passing of one more storm center as well as our last chance at a big adventure in France - a tour of the Normandy Beaches. End of PB Rpt 2004-2