West of Portwrinkle were several little sandy beaches only accessible by boat. Anchored in the shallows were a few small sailing boats perhaps 5 - 6m in length; a few small ribs had disgorged their occupants on to the beaches. BBQ smoke could be seen drifting up and to the east. If they were hoping to do some body boarding they were to be disappointed at that time for there were few waves breaking. Behind the beaches on the steep cliffs were woodlands, trees blown towards the east by the prevailing winds, contorted in to tilted and flattened shapes. Some cliffs had experienced recent cliff falls, huge scars and gashes forming big reddish grey lines across their greenery.
Nav station onboard Arwen: within the pack are charts, ordnance survey maps, a detailed passage plan etc. The dead reckoning distances, timings and compass directions are marked out on the chart as well as being in the plan. Waypoints are entered into the GPS but to be very honest I only use that for getting a speed reading. I'm the person in UK who doesn't own a satnav! I believe that if you rely on technology too much - you lose the skills you need to do it manually....and when the technology ceases to function........well......... I know........I'm a luddite!!
The little coastal community of Downderry with so many of its houses with big panoramic windows looking out over Whitesand Bay soon disappeared astern the starboard side of Arwen as the wind began to veer and increase. By 1pm ish it had started to reach 10 or 11 knots and had veered to be running south- south west. Arwen was now doing between 4 - 6 kts helped by the westerly tidal stream of 0.7kts. Of course, this mean't that waves were building. The height between trough and crest of many was at least 1.5m (6 - 7') and inevitably they were running almost parallel to the coast in the direction Arwen and I were heading.........bouncy is not a good enough adjective to describe that constant crashing into the waves but it will have to do. Spray was beginning to appear over the front decks with regular monotony. I think Joshua Slocum described spray as 'myriads of diamonds sparkling the in the sun' and you know what, he was right! At first it was fun crashing into troughs and watching Arwen claw her way up to the crests but then after a couple of hours......it grew tiring.....and frustrating!
Heading for Polperro
In that sudden weather lull when the sea calmed
Looe came up fast and we were about 1nm off the narrow channel into her safe port nestled between two steep hills. Banjo pier with its rounded turret structure at the seaward end stood out; to the right, Looe beach was crowded, and I mean crowded. Looe is a popular tourist destination with a mix of quaint streets, pubs, a thriving fish market and some nice beaches. Two grockle (Cornish for tourist!!) charter fishing boats were making their way back to port, well with the bouncy seas, I can't think it was much fun for landlubbers out there! By now Arwen's sails had filled nicely and had set well, few creases and the boom at a good safe height above my head. Earlier that morning, due to poor safety checks on my part, the second reefing rope had become loose and undone itself, pulling out from the sail cringle holes. I'd just hanked it and looped it over a cleat because I wasn't expecting the weather to go to force 4! Huh! Well I did try heaving too but it was so bouncy that actually I decided to avoid sea sickness and carry on. There wasn't a huge amount of weather helm and I didn't feel Arwen was over pressed with canvas for the ailing conditions being experienced.
Off George Island on the western approach to Looe were some small fishing boats laying out crabbing and lobster pots. This is a scene so typical of the west country coast and I admire these small scale fishermen who often supply local restaurants. They go out in yellow oilskins in all weathers, normally single handed, to tend to their pots. And it is hard work - for some of these boats are really small and don't have the benefit of mechanised pot haulers! I passed several pot markers - I always marvel at the assortment of floating bottles, jerrycans, old footballs in nets etc that make up marker buoys. Many in this area have little flags to help increase their visibility - bamboo poles from garden centres with home made flags stuck on made of hessian and plastic sacks. Very effective too! George island is a nature reserve and not accessible to the public except by prior booking. Boat trips run out there from Looe. Between the island and mainland are rocks - the chart recommends not cutting between island and mainland even at high tide! There is a white house on the leeward eastern side which I think is lived in by the warden. Most of it is wooded - low oaks by the looks; although in the middle of one small clearing was a very impressive tepee. On the western flanks are some open fields on which were grazing a small flock of very black sheep. The rocky platforms around the island are extensive and a great place for all sorts of marine life including seals. The upper rocks have yellowish lichen above them and are purpley grey in colour; then there is a band of black rock colouring before the more common brownish-grey rocks, barnacle and limpet covered; with huge mats of bladderwrack seaweed and kelp.
At 2.35pm, we hit the overfalls. Hum - if I'd been paying more attention to my notes and chart and less admiring the scenery - then I would have headed out to sea a little more.....but no.....I headed straight into them and boy were there some steep troughs, I mean some steep gut wrenching ones. It was like riding a roller coaster and it was to cause me endless problems for the next hour or so. Not the trough/crests but actually tidal eddies and a wicked side stream. Running parallel to much of the coastline and being close hauled - I was suffering leeway but this combined with odd currents mean't that I was forever being sent sideways towards the rocky coastline. Four times over the next hour and a half I had to turn and head out to sea for several minutes at a time to gain some leeway from the land. Each time I was heading almost back on myself, the wind shifting just as I tacked. All the ground I'd made would disappear. Just before Polperro I was pretty sure I'd entered a 'nether world' of reoccurring 'ground hog day'. I just couldn't clear one small headland at all, it didn't matter how long I headed out to sea, as soon as I resumed direction, tide, current and wind resolved to put me straight back towards the rocks - it was bizzare! After an hour of desperately trying every sailing trick I knew (which isn't much of a repertoire to be honest), I resorted to cheating and so motor sailed out to sea for almost two miles before resuming course and reverting to sail.
the entrance to Looe with George Island on the left
If it was any consolation, a small cornish shrimper ahead of me was having similar problems. A big 40' yacht sailed past on the port side about 1.5miles offshore. Lesson learned? Don't hug the coastline so closely - move further off shore, especially when close hauled and with a coastline running near parallel to the wind direction!! In the meantime, I eased my outboard throttle down, killed the engine and reverted to sail. My beloved little engine - it sounded poorly - this was ruining my day!
Such had been my concerns over rocky shorelines, spinning currents and a poorly engine I'd plumb forgot to measure my speed against the 'measured mile' markers found along this stretch of the coastline. Huh - I'd been quite looking forward to doing that - ah well!
Polperro finally came up on the starboard side - it had taken it's time!! The harbour entrance looked very inviting! I could duck in there and call it a day after all it was 4.30pm. Shelter, warm coffee, nice village pub or two....sounded good. Mind you, narrow harbour to get into, big breaking waves on its eastern side - can't sail in to it - would need engine - um - maybe not then......and so we passed on. To be honest I had no intention of giving up - it was Fowey or bust and Arwen and I were still in pretty good shape. A huge orange crane dominated the eastern entrance to Polperro along with some huge light grey concrete blocks - new harbour wall? New breakwater arm? Must find out when I return.
A thought crept into my head as we tacked out to sea again to gain some distance from the cliff base (those damn sideways currents - wicked leeway)..........was there enough fuel in the tank for an entry in to Fowey? when I'd gained a mile offshore, I hove to and took a look. Nope, tank was almost empty. Taking the provident opportunity of a lull in the lumpy waves, I leaned over the back of the transom, inserted the huge round high sided funnel and poured a litre of fuel in to the tank with barely a drop split! Ha - impressive if not precarious! Arwen hoves to very well. The tiller stays to leeward of its own accord and we sort of sideways claw forward at a slow rate. It's a very reassuring character trait of a small boat, the ability to hove to simply and effectively!!
.....and finally the entrance to Fowey.
There was a point when I thought we'd never reach it in daylight!!
Slowly we clawed our way along towards Fowey, the steep rugged cliffs looking somewhat foreboding now. Arwen was making 4.2kts into a rising headwind (around force 4). We'd both grown accustom to the bouncing waves but the occasional dollops of spray were a rude awakening to the helmsman! It was getting late and I was keen to see the huge pillar on St Catherine's point. It would indicate the entrance to the river harbour. Slowly we came up on the white house high on the cliff at Polruan and then the stone white cross on the rocks at the foot of the cliffs on the eastern side. We'd made it. 7.10pm We'd started at 9am so it had been almost a 10 hr day! At the entrance to the river mouth I hove to and started the outboard. We slowly entered the port calling up the harbour master on VHF channel 12. Directed to raft up alongside some BIG yachts, it became clear that I was losing engine power and this was going to be tricky. The anchorage was heaving. At the entrance to Pont Pill creek, boats were rafted up four deep at every single buoy. The harbour patrol, sensing there was an issue with my skills level (must have seen the look on my face), kindly directed me to the only open stretch of water amongst hundred's of boats, where there was one single lonely buoy. Well, it was one of those one shot only moments. With engine revs dying fast (I hadn't fille dthe tank sufficiently at harbour mouth - that will teach me!!) I positioned Arwen into the current, grabbed for the mooring pole and extended it to its full extent. There would be no slick coming alongside and stopping with the buoy at midships tonight....this was a get as close as possible to it before engine died and then lunge. The technique worked and I cannot begin to describe the sense of relief of having made it into port safely. And this is true, as I tied onto the buoy, my beloved, faithful little tohatsu engine coughed and died............she'd run out of petrol.
Steve
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