After arriving at Dover at the end of last week my intention was to press on and aim for Ireland.
After previously spending time in Dover and exploring the area on my way towards the east coast I saw no point in hanging around, and so the following morning I continued on to sovereign harbour just outside Eastbourne. I booked in for a couple of nights here as I knew where the supermarkets were to reprovision after my time in Suffolk. The staff, particularly Craig, and members of the Yacht Club in Suffolk had been amazing and taken me on a couple of shopping trips, but I don’t like to impose on others too much. I’ve always remained staunchly self reliant.
One of the things about the life of a Sea Gypsy is a lack of transport off the water. Doing anything that is more than a reasonably short walk from the boat requires planning, especially if it’s going to involve carrying a load of shopping back in the opposite direction. I knew from my previous stay here that there were two supermarkets within an easy walk of the marina, one of which you just happen to walk through the bars in the marina waterfront area on the way there and back, so off I trundled to replenished the basic supply of tinned foods and long life goods that I keep on the boat for use when the fresh runs out and I can’t get to shops for whatever reason. I have had a situation before where I was unable to safely get off the boat for a day or two because a storm has blown up, you always need to be prepared for the unexpected.
I was thinking of going as far as Portsmouth the following day so I went off for an early night, however before midnight I was woken by the mother of all lightening storms. I’m well aware that it is a myth that lightening strikes the highest point, however it’s still rather unnerving to be in a box that has a 15 meter metal pole pointing up out of the top and a great big metal grounding plate hanging off the bottom. I went scurrying around the boat to make sure my electronic gadgets weren’t plugged in, you know, just in case. I barely needed lights on as the lightening lit up the whole cabin even though the small windows on the side of Isosceles’ cabin. And then the rain started. There is nothing to dampen any sounds hitting the deck on a boat. Imagine heavy rain on a conservatory roof, now multiply it as the sound travels round and through a plastic box. Sailing was cancelled the following day, in fact none of the visiting boats left the next day.
I decided to walk to the other supermarket, more as an excuse to get off the boat and have some exercise than to actually go shopping, the weather forecast said it would brighten up through the afternoon so it would be better than sitting around. On the way back from the shops it began to rain, why do I ever listen to weather forecasts? It started off as drizzle, then developed into a kind of heavy drizzle, the kind that doesn’t seem that bad but soaks you through to the skin before you’ve really realised, which wasn’t that difficult when I was out in shorts and tee shirt expecting the sun to appear. Then the rain got heavier, and then it really started to pour. When I returned to the boat I peeled my sodden clothing off and the only place safe to put something that wet was in the sink.
Monday morning was time to move again. I’d changed my mind and decided on Brighton marina in the end, mainly because I was hoping to time passing through the Solent to coincide with being able to meet up with my friend Robin, who would be heading down to his boat during the week. The wind was forecast southerly force 2, 3 or 4 depending on which forecast you looked at. What wind there actually was blew straight out of the west, perfect if I’d been going the other way!
It was much cooler now, with grey clouds covering the sky, this gave the calm seas a blue grey tinge. The difference in colour of the seas now I was away from the constantly shifting sands of the east coast and the north sea was quite marked. However the increasingly rocky and stoney sea bottom is where the crabs and lobsters like to hang out, and consequently there is an increase in the number of lobster pot marker buoys to be wary of.
I realise fisherman have a living to make, but sometimes the small marker buoys they attach to their crab and lobster pots can be a menace. It is in no-ones interest for boats to get caught up on these things: the motor or sail boat can be left without power to move with a rope caught around their propeller, the fisherman loses not just their catch but also the pot that provides future catches and income, but also the creatures that have been caught in the pot are unable to escape. I don’t mind animals being caught to provide food, but animals needlessly left to die after being encaged and trapped by mans insatiable appetite isn’t a thought that appeals.
So avoiding these marker buoys is pretty imperative, spotting them however can be a whole other story. Some fishermen will use bright orange markers, however these cost money, and it seems the whole world is trying to save a few pounds here and there. Trying to spot white, black or even blue jerry cans that some use to mark their fishing pots is hard enough, when you are sailing alone with no second pair of eyes to keep a lookout it becomes very tiring constantly scanning for these traps. When you are heading west and the sun begins to glint off the water in the afternoon and early evening you have little chance of seeing anything that is so small in the water. You are constantly scanning the water in front of the boat in an attempt to make sure you don’t get ropes wrapped around the boats propeller.
Today however I had a different problem, mist and fog. The visibility wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t see what was around me, but it was limited, grey and a little disconcerting. I knew I was unlikely to see anything big suddenly appear out of the mirky gloom, but fishing boats could be anchored up or pulling lines of pots in. Yet more reason to be keeping a good lookout. Eventually the weather did improve, with sunshine and intense heat returning by the end of the day.
After a couple of nights in Brighton I set off again towards Portsmouth / Gosport and had the same mirky conditions as my trip from Sovereign Harbour to Brighton. The wind persisted in being from the west, and very light. While sailing may have been possible it wasn’t going to happen if I wanted to make way towards my destination. Passing back through the Looe channel south of Selsey Bill was thankfully much quieter and calmer than my previous passage through this narrow channel. From there it was a straight run towards the narrow entrance to Portsmouth harbour.
After a night in Haslar Marina I was as ready as I’ll ever be to return to the Solent, but more on that next week.
