Happily, today (Thursday) promised at least a fighting chance of making an overnight passage direct from Eastbourne to Guernsey.
There was no pressing need to make an early start, in fact it made sense to leave at around 9:00am as it optimised the tides overall if we averaged 5 knots and would put us into the approaches to St. Peter Port in Guernsey in daylight on any average speed between 4 knots and 6 knots.
We set out expecting the wind to have backed into the North West or even North but it was stubbornly staying in the West. Even so, we managed to get hard on the wind and sail from shortly after leaving Sovereign Harbour, past Beachy Head and down as far as the end of the Dover Straits Traffic Seperation Scheme.
Frustratingly, just as we approached the almost continuous stream of ships heading West, the wind headed us (or perhaps we sailed into a more South Westerly stream of air) and we had to start the engine again.
Having expected to be on a reach all the way to just past Alderney, once again we were motoring into the teeth of the wind. Beating to windward was not a viable option realistically. We had neither the time, nor to be honest, the inclination and tacking backwards and forwards across the path of dozens of ships steaming at anything from 9 knots to 18 knots would have been, frankly, stupid.
We did debate tacking North towards the Isle of Wight and then back on long boards but I did a quick calculation of how much time it would cost us and didn't fancy the result one little bit!
So we sidled across the West bound traffic without too much difficulty. Whilat doing fuel checks as we motored along what felt like the central reservation of a motorway with ships going past us travelling West to our North and ships going East to our South, we suddenly realised that the forecast backing of the wind had finally arrived and we had enough angle on it to get sailing.
So it was off with the engine again and back under full sail just before 21:00UT (10:00pm British Summer Time).. We set a decent pace along the next leg into the darkening night. The moon was up and bright, it wasn't too chilly (although we all felt the need for extra layers) and with us nicely set up I left Tony and Rik to it and went below for an hour or two's nap to recharge my batteries.
I doxed fitfully, getting some benefit, but every time I was on the verge of dropping off, the bloody French issued another DSC "All Ships" alert which set the alarm off on the VHF radio. It's not an alarm that can be ignored as it could be a Pan Pan or a Mayday that we ought to respond to. Why the French issue an "All Ships" alert for routine safety information broadcasts I do not know but I wish they'd stop it! I won't run without the VHF on and the alarms enabled for safety reasons. Hey ho.
I felt slightly refreshed when I came back on deck and rather pleased to see that Tony and Rik had Pagan sailing very nicely indeed at over 7 knots. Rik went below to grab some rest whilst Tony and I tried to figure out how to get across the continuous stream of Eastbound shipping between us and the French coast.
Pagan's AIS receiver will reliably pick up ships out to 30 to 40 miles and usually picks up the bigger ships, and slightly intermittently the smaller ones too, out to beyond 50 miles. With the display set to the 48 mile range, we were staring at a virtually continuous stream of ships with no obvious gaps we could dive through.
After an hour and a half of "not a chance", we spotted a gap. It wasn't much of a gap and it would mean passing the stern of one vessel and turning due South with a big container ship heading straight for us at over 18 knots. Our CPA (closest point of approach) would be barely 2 miles which is not a comfortable safety margin but we were being held well North of where we needed to be and getting, if not desperate, certainly keen to get back on track.
Discretion being the better part of valour, we fired up the engine and put the pedal to the metal. At one point, we were doing over 8 knots over the ground! Once we were clear of the shipping, we were able to lay the course for the Casquets and turn the engine off again.
We watched the sun rise, always a fantastic sight at sea, and then Rik came back on watch and Tony went below. With a fair old swell coming in on our beam, steering was a constant challenge (the wheelpilot isn't really man enough to handle those conditions under sail and in any case we didn't want to be running the batteries down all night) but we got to grips with it with practice.
Tony only managed an hour or so, but at least he did actually get to sleep. I then took another two hour break and this time did manage to get some actual sleep. I was pleased about that as I really didn't want to be struggling to keep my eyes open once we got in amongst the rock strewn and tidally challenging waters of the Channel Islands.
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| Approach the Casquets in a rolly polly beam on swell |
It turned out we should have gone a bit further outside of the Casquets than we did as there were some rather interesting sea conditions. There were no overfalls or other warnings on the Navionics chart, nothing, in fact, to make me think that clearing the rocks by half a mile would be problematic.
However, had I looked (as I usually do but unaccountably failed to do on this occasion) at the Admiralty chart, I would have seen that my route passed over a shallow 14.6 meter round topped rock with "Violent Eddies" marked on the chart all around. Happily, they weren't too violent but they were rather interesting to helm through! No harm done but a lesson learnt (or I should say re-learnt and reinforced)
The difference is obvious!
Anyway, after that bit of excitement, we now found ourselves running dead before the wind with a quartering sea. That is a recipe for slow and frustrating sailing and with the tide due to turn foul in the channel down to St. Peter Port in less than 3 hours none of us fancied slogging all afternoon to get into port. So it was back on with the noise machine for the final leg.
I confess I struggled to relate what I could see on the charts, both Navionics and Admiraly, in the approaches to St. Peter Port. With all the rocks covered, the vista in front of me bore no obvious relation to the picture my mind formed from the charts. This was a little disconcerting as normally my mental image from a map or chart is a very good fit with what I can see in the real world.
I got my eyes and brain back in sync farily quickly once a couple of obvious landmarks had been identified and added to the mental data and we made our way into the harbour with the 'Q' flag flying.
We milled about for a bit then spotted the waiting pontoon and went alongside. Seconds later, the harbour dory whizzed up and guided us in to a berth in Victoria Marina. All that remained to be done was to fill out the customs clearance form, which required listing all the wine, spirits and tobacco on board (no mean task on Pagan!), and posting it in the box at the head of the access ramp.
Then the 'Q' flag could come down and, after a swift visit to the local chandlery to purchase one (I hadn't been able to get one before we left as our local chandlery doesn't stock them and I forgot to order one online), the Guernsey courtesy flag hoisted in it's place.
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| Alongside in St. Peter Port |
We'd covered 147 nautical miles in 28 hours and 25 minutes at an average speed of just under 5.2 knots arriving within half an hour of our ETA! 78.5 miles, slightly more than half of the passage, was done under sail which, in the conditions and considering the time contraints, wasn't too shabby.
Good job, the Pagans!
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