POOH BEAR REPORT - 08 Aug 2002 Across the South Coast of England - Part I Ramsgate and Dover, England, May 2002 Recap I know it has been a long time since the last Pooh Bear Cruising Report, so let me recap. Judy and I had left London on the 16th of May and motored down the Thames, without benefit of a functioning autopilot, to Queenborough where we purchase a new, and functioning, autopilot and found some kind of engine cooling problem. We had installed the autopilot in Chatham and fixed the cooling problem, then continued on toward Dover, but had turned back to Ramsgate due to head winds and seas. Ramsgate Our expected day or two in Ramsgate became three, then four, then five. The winds blew from the west or southwest (this means on the nose) at 20 to 40 knots without a break. Several times the forecast looked good, but each time, just as we were ready to check out of the marina, the 12 hour forecast would change. Surprisingly, I think Judy's frustration level went higher than mine. In fact, I rather grew to like Ramsgate. We walked around the city. We visited the museums. Early on we found a combined English coffee shop and Thai restaurant and got to know the owner and his Thai wife. While there we also met a couple of the locals, so most afternoons I joined them in drinking coffee and telling sea stories. Barry and Jan, whom we had met in St. Katharine's and lived nearby, toured us and took us to their home for one night. As is typical in the cruising community, we also remet Les and Hazel who live on Emma Lou in Ramsgate Harbour. We had first met Les and Hazel almost two years before in the French canals as we approached Calais. Ramsgate harbour, a harbour since pre-Roman times, has high stone breakwaters, giving a sort of a prison like feel. They isolate you inside the harbour from not only the waves, but the wind. On several occasions it was so calm and peaceful inside that we were certain the weather reports were wrong. But a short walk up on the breakwater would show a convincing scene. The sea would be white and the winds strong enough you would reach for the railing. A few yachts (in Europe, virtually any size sail boat is called a yacht) did arrive and depart crossing the channel or heading north, but virtually none left westbound. So it went for nine days as the wind blew from the west and we sat around drinking coffee, visiting, and talking about the dreadful weather. Dover Finally, with a one-day respite promised by the Meteo Office, we, and a bunch of other yachts, motor-sailed the 20 miles down, inside the infamous Goodwin Sands, to Dover. As we navigated south, I could not help but remember a map I had seen showing the known wrecks on the Goodwin Sands. Wreck symbols overlapped wreck symbols with scarcely a pinhead of clear area. And not all of the wrecks were on the map. Only a year earlier, friends ours making the same passage as we were, but at night in a strong northeast wind struck the sands. Happily the crew, including the cat, were quickly picked off by the Ramsgate Life Boat. Unbelievably, with seas crashing across it, the boat washed across the sands as the tide rose and survived with relatively minor damage to continue cruising. I dreaded our arrival at Dover. Big ferries, I mean ship sized ferries, arrive and depart to the continent, around the clock, through Dover's two entrances. As usual, my fears were unfounded. Upon arrival, Port Control cleared us, with only a slight hold, through the east entrance, the west entrance, and on to the marina. And there was Les and Hazel waiting to take our lines and present us with a bottle of Talisker, a single malt whisky. They had driven down from Ramsgate just to welcome us! Now, with 20 miles astern and 480 miles ahead to Lands End, maybe we were really on our way. But we need not of had any fear of being unable to see a bit of Dover as the westerly winds and rain returned. Dover is a tourist town in the summer, whenever that is, and a transportation hub all the time. There were two unending lines of lorries (trucks) winding through Dover. Incoming ferries added to the line arriving in England, while departing ferries loaded lorries enroute to various points in France, Belgium and Holland. Nearby is the entrance to the Channel Tunnel (Chunnel), the link that broke England's historic isolation from the continent. It also has brought a terrible problem with illegal immigration. Mostly they are peoples from the Balkan countries, the near east and Middle East (Pakistan and Afghanistan). From camps in France, just coincidentally located by the French near the southern Chunnel entrance, nightly, tens to hundreds board trains entering the UK. Most enter undetected and add to England's already massive immigrant population. They come in hordes, perceiving England as having the best treatment of immigrants. And they do! Legal or illegal, they appear to receive the same protection in the courts as citizens; they receive liberal housing; they receive food; and they receive monetary handouts. Authorities in England seem unable to control the flow and authorities in France seem unwilling to help, resulting in considerable inte! rnational friction. But then when haven't the French and the English been at odds? Being weathered in wasn't all bad. We toured famous Dover Castle in rain, at times, so heavy we could see only yards ahead and with winds so ferocious that we were nearly blown off our feet many times. Despite the weather, tour was a huge success. Some parts of the castle go way back to Roman days because it is located at the closest point to the continent. Some parts of it are World War II. It was a major observation point during the war and miles of tunnels were secretly added without the Germans ever being aware of it. A whole set of tunnels were added to house a complete hospital. It was manned and ready, but was never seriously used. In spite of the rain, we walked all around town, visited the Old Town Hall and a museum that houses a 3500 year old boat found during some construction. Suddenly, after three days, the weatherman said the winds would lay to the10 or 15 knot range, though still out of the SW. We jumped at the chance and motored almost directly into the wind to East Bourne; another wet and tiring bash. End of Part 1. Part 2 will follow. Bob & Judy (aboard s/v Pooh Bear moored in Tobermory, Isle of Mull, Scotland)