Today was a special day. It felt special as I crept out of QAB marina at 9.00am.
A massive spring tide right at the top and the whole sound was a millpond. Not a breath of wind anywhere. Loads of flotsam drifted aimlessly; rafts of seaweed, the odd plastic bottle, and the cursed mastic sealant containers. We really are a wasteful and environmentally un-thoughtful society aren’t we? Mist hung over the breakwater. I did try to sail but it became pretty clear that I was going nowhere other than backwards. Well the sun was rising high, it was going to be a scorcher and there was only one thing to do really. Started the outboard and putted slowly across the sound to Cawsand bay and one of my favourite anchorages.
I like to anchor just off the wooded cliffs.
Today they were in their fine greenery and full of birdsong. The sea was that lovely bright emerald green and it was so clear you could see the seaweed beds and sandy patches. It was quite fun sitting on the forward deck, my back leaning against the mast and my legs dangling in the very cold briny. I could see the anchor with the chain coiled to one side of it. It hadn’t dug into the sand but clearly it held fine. In the meantime I chilled and listened to the sounds, the slight knocking of the rudder as the boat pivoted in the wind (I kept the mizzen up to point me into the wind at anchor. The waves surged and gurgled into the gullies and crevices of the rocks. The tide was dropping fast exposing several bands of colour on the rocks. The top most colour was a dark grey/black with splodges of grey lichen; immediately below it was a light grey band and then the browny grey area where the barnacles grew profusely. Exposed kelp surged in and out in ribbons glistening in the sun, its movement rhythmic in time with the surging waves.
And then it happened. That niggle. The rising of the hairs on the neck, the sense that something was about to happen. A breeze suddenly picked up and the mirror glass sea rippled as little puffs of wind came towards me. The new tell tales on the shrouds, streamed out towards the stern, their flickering adding a high ticking to the sound landscape. Everything was telling me it was time to go......and so whilst many came to join my sheltered spot, I upped anchor and made way but not for long.
The wind dropped completely – becalmed. Drifting aimlessly. Not a breath. I tried everything and then resorted to motor. I could cross to where the breakwater was I could see ripples in the sea where the wind was ruffling the surface. There I could catch some breeze.
And then I saw them. Well I thought I saw them, porpoise off the starboard bow at 600m. Quick scanning with binoculars and I was still unsure – were those waves, ripples, driftwood? A tail fluke shot to the surface, an arched back and then I was surrounded. A pod of 15 or so porpoise including babies frolicked around me. They shot under Arwen, came alongside her, took a look at me and generally swam around me at varying distances. The closest? Less than a metre! Playing in my bow wave! All well in-side Plymouth Sound.
Today was a special day. I knew it would be when I crept out of QAB at 9.00am into the still foggy morning!
Steve
A massive spring tide right at the top and the whole sound was a millpond. Not a breath of wind anywhere. Loads of flotsam drifted aimlessly; rafts of seaweed, the odd plastic bottle, and the cursed mastic sealant containers. We really are a wasteful and environmentally un-thoughtful society aren’t we? Mist hung over the breakwater. I did try to sail but it became pretty clear that I was going nowhere other than backwards. Well the sun was rising high, it was going to be a scorcher and there was only one thing to do really. Started the outboard and putted slowly across the sound to Cawsand bay and one of my favourite anchorages.
I like to anchor just off the wooded cliffs.
tranquil woodlands full of birdsong
Today they were in their fine greenery and full of birdsong. The sea was that lovely bright emerald green and it was so clear you could see the seaweed beds and sandy patches. It was quite fun sitting on the forward deck, my back leaning against the mast and my legs dangling in the very cold briny. I could see the anchor with the chain coiled to one side of it. It hadn’t dug into the sand but clearly it held fine. In the meantime I chilled and listened to the sounds, the slight knocking of the rudder as the boat pivoted in the wind (I kept the mizzen up to point me into the wind at anchor. The waves surged and gurgled into the gullies and crevices of the rocks. The tide was dropping fast exposing several bands of colour on the rocks. The top most colour was a dark grey/black with splodges of grey lichen; immediately below it was a light grey band and then the browny grey area where the barnacles grew profusely. Exposed kelp surged in and out in ribbons glistening in the sun, its movement rhythmic in time with the surging waves.
amazing colour bands on the rocks
And then it happened. That niggle. The rising of the hairs on the neck, the sense that something was about to happen. A breeze suddenly picked up and the mirror glass sea rippled as little puffs of wind came towards me. The new tell tales on the shrouds, streamed out towards the stern, their flickering adding a high ticking to the sound landscape. Everything was telling me it was time to go......and so whilst many came to join my sheltered spot, I upped anchor and made way but not for long.
a neighbouring anchoree
The wind dropped completely – becalmed. Drifting aimlessly. Not a breath. I tried everything and then resorted to motor. I could cross to where the breakwater was I could see ripples in the sea where the wind was ruffling the surface. There I could catch some breeze.
And then I saw them. Well I thought I saw them, porpoise off the starboard bow at 600m. Quick scanning with binoculars and I was still unsure – were those waves, ripples, driftwood? A tail fluke shot to the surface, an arched back and then I was surrounded. A pod of 15 or so porpoise including babies frolicked around me. They shot under Arwen, came alongside her, took a look at me and generally swam around me at varying distances. The closest? Less than a metre! Playing in my bow wave! All well in-side Plymouth Sound.
Today was a special day. I knew it would be when I crept out of QAB at 9.00am into the still foggy morning!
Steve
4 comments:
Nice. What a great place to drop anchor. You have a spectacular 'backyard'!
yep and only just beginning to explore it - I've yet to get up the tamar, the fowey or the dart and they are spectacular
nice posts on annie by the way
steve
How spectacular! Beautiful scenery and magnificant creatures all in the same trip. We occasionally encounter them here in Puget Sound as well (I believe they are called Pacific Dolphins) and sometimes encounter Orcas and even gray whales as well, but I've never seen them come that close! Thank you for sharing your trip with us. Your vids are inspirational. Please keep them coming!
-Joel
hi joel
good to here from you
i think these were common porpoise; i'm awaiting confirmation from my conservationist daughter. whales - now that would be fantastic - you lucky man. my brother has a great photo of him kayaking and resting next to a rock...when you look more closely you suddenly realise the rock has an eye....its a grey whale which was very gentle, playful and inquisitive in alaska!
steve
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