Tag: Devon

Conquering Portland Bill

The Bill of Portland is an enormous wedge of eponymous rock sticking out into the channel. The strong tides, overfalls and eddies are very considerable and constitute a significant inconvenience, not to mention hazard to small craft making their way along the coast.

Today was exactly on spring tides, so the currents would be at their strongest and it was important to time our arrival carefully. Travelling east, this is not easy because there is nowhere convenient to wait if one arrives early (as there is when travelling West), but it is also important not to arrive late either.

There is an inshore passage which saves considerable distance, but I considered it too risky for my first passage and on springs. So that dictated that we should pass at least 3nm off, arriving at 6pm, at the turn of the tide when the overfalls were least and then take advantage of a fair tide into Weymouth bay.

The ferry which runs between Dartmouth and Kingswear

Bayards Cove, where the Mayflower and Speedwell first set off for America, before being forced to return to Plymouth for repairs to the leaking Speedwell

We took an early morning stroll around Dartmouth town, a lovely place with a lot of character and history, before taking on some provisions and departing. The provisions took the form of more pasties, in fact double rations as both Ben and I both bought some. These were definitely Devonish Pasties (as opposed to Cornish pasties) with their wacky flaky pastry!

Offshore passage. Note Andy “the arm” Autohelm is wearing his plastic raincoat.

Our track was due East, passing the line of rocks outside Dartmouth and then opening Torbay as we left Berry Head behind. We had main up but there was little wind. As we moved further offshore, towards the invisible Portland Bill, the wind gradually filled in, to give a good training run. However the wind shifted gradually, until we were dead downwind and the jibs were not pulling.

Our track for this passage. The red dot lower right was the centre of the 6nm circle of live firing. At this scale, the chart shows The Shambles as an oval to the east of Portland

We could hear on the VHF two ships warning of live firing. “Warship Westminster” was no concern, being far to the east, but RFA Cardigan Bay was reporting a 6nm radius of live fire in our track.

This forced us to gybe in order to stay on a track which maintained our minimum 3nm offing from Portland, whilst staying out of the radius reported.

In the end, the wind strength was too high for main only and we took it down (not easy in the big rollers that were forming) because the helm was too heavy without the balance of a jib sail, which weren’t setting as we were dead downwind. We continued on engine and jib and watched the enormously long wedge of cheese that is Portland Bill take on form and colour as we approached. The tide was against us; progress was slow and we reached the watershed of directly south of Portland Light at 1900. From then on, the tide built in our favour and we were soon skimming along outside Shambles Bank at over 8kt in a joyous reach.

We had decided to try the new anchor in Worbarrow Bay, at Mupe Rocks, where we would be sheltered from the SW breeze. The forecast was for the wind to drop to nothing overnight, so we were not too worried about the swell. The sun was setting as we closed the land, but we made a very efficient main sail drop in time to drop anchor, tucked into the lee of the rocks and shielded by the magnificent chalk cliffs, before twilight faded.

Ben and I ate our second pasty of the day with a well-earned glass of beer before retiring to bed. I set an anchor alarm, but I was confident in “Mr Spock” (our Vulcan) – Molly came to a full stop when we had motored full astern during our anchor setting. In any case, the forecast was for the wind to disappear almost completely for the next 24 hours. Well, it did not turn out that way! The wind rose and backed to NW, which gave us the full shelter of the cliffs we were under, and Molly held her ground perfectly as she swung to the shifts and strong gusts. A resounding win for the new anchor! I woke in the night to poke my head out and was greeted by the most fabulously clear star-filled sky. I was too tired to admire it for more than a few moments before returning gratefully to my warm berth.

Dartmouth

We had an early start and made full use of the excellent facilities at Sutton Marina in Plymouth. Niki left us for the train back to Falmouth, pausing in Plymouth again on her way back for brunch with Aimee, who was in the midst of her uni exams, before driving home. Our passage plan was to move Molly another good hop towards her new home, and make for Dartmouth.

My main order of the day, following yesterday’s experience was to replace my anchor for something more grippy before departing. After reading around, the ground tackle of choice seemed to be either a Rocna or its later development, the slightly more compact Vulcan. It was reassuring to know that not only had others testified to its holding but importantly also reported that it fitted the anchor locker of the Crabber 26.

Plymouth ought to be a good place to procure boat equipment, but most of the chandleries didn’t have my anchor of choice. Fortunately the excellent chandlery at Mountbatten had a 9kg Vulcan in stock, so Ben and I took the foot ferry across the harbour. Pausing only to restock with pasties for our voyage, we returned to Molly and fitted her shiny new pin, made our way through the lock and motored out into the sound.

Anchor well and prosper! Mr Spock, the 9kg Vulcan

Just as we were hoisting the main, a military RIB asked us to move out of the channel, and moments later the frigate HMS Kent came steaming up the East channel at speed.

Although we had the main up, it was not working at all and it was not a very peaceful passage down the Devon coast; although there was little swell, the sea felt confused without the drive of the sails and gave us an uncomfortable motion. We passed by some of my favourite diving sites at Hilsea point and the Persier wreck in Bigbury Bay, where we could see the mouths of the Erme and Avon from afar. I thought, not for the first time, that I wished there was time to explore these places.

Eventually Molly passed Bolt Tail and we travelled along that forbidding four miles of cliff, until we reached Bolt Head and the entrance to Salcombe. We had discussed this as an alternative place to overnight, but Ben and I both agreed we should carry on.

The sea was much flatter now and a fair tide was increasing; we quickly passed Prawle Point and approached the prominent outcrop of Start Point with its conspicuous lighthouse. By this time we were scooting along at over 7kt and were rapidly covering the remaining ground.

We were treated to some spectacular meteorology, with banks of dark grey cumulus approaching. We could see a lovely pilot cutter in the distance turning across our track. The heavens opened and a massive downpour began with the rain cascading down onto glassy water. It was so quiet that could the strange hiss of the drops on the surface of the sea as we sped along. We watched the pilot cutter pass in front of us and follow the shore of Start Bay; we took a route outside the Skerries Bank, though there the only evidence of overfalls were occasional patches of boiling water on the glassy water surface.

The cloud passed away as we entered the mouth of Dart River and Ben and I were treated to the sight of Dartmouth and Kingswear in the early evening sun. We treated ourselves to a berth on the town quay, ready for some well-earned fish and chips. It was only when we were tied up that I noticed that as this was the ferry quay, we needed to be away by 0845 the following morning. The helpful harbour master pointed out that we were welcome to move to one of the pontoon berths in the morning if we wished, so we decided to stay put.

We were joined just after by the gaffer we had seen in the bay, which turned out to be Hetty, a 1906 pilot cutter, who was travelling in the opposite direction to us, from Weymouth on her way to Cornwall for a pilot cutter rally.

We enjoyed Rockfish fillet and chips aboard Molly with the fine Shropshire bitter I had brought with me from home. The meal was provided by the chip shop of the same name and was excellent.

We spent the rest of the evening discussing our next move. The wind had been favourable but very light for the past several days. We had one more day of favourable wind forecast, followed by a day of no wind and then adverse winds. The forecasts had not been accurate, but I really did want to end the week with Molly on her berth in Gosport and I also did not want to plod upwind on the motor if I could avoid it.

Ben and I considered many options, but in the end decided that we’d make an early start in the morning, pass off well off Portland with a favourable spring tide in the early evening and see where we got to, with the option of going overnight all the way into the Solent or, more likely, anchoring somewhere before Swanage to avoid sailing through the whole night and allowing us to time our Solent entrance to a fair tide.

Anchor angst and the Yealm

We were anchored off the beach at Cawsand. I’ve never been ashore at Cawsand, so the plan was to inflate the dinghy and explore the twin villages of Kingsand and Cawsand. Niki said “are you sure it’s safe for us to all go ashore?” Prophetic words. “It’ll be ok”, I judged.

There was a gentle onshore breeze and the three of us landed easily in the tender. The villages, separated by only a few yards, but which historically had been at loggerheads for many years, were indeed lovely, especially with the decorations up for the queen’s Platinum Jubilee.

Narrow streets with jubilee decorations in Kingsand

At several points we could see Molly from afar and observed that she was still in position. As we walked along the shore, Niki said “I’m sure she’s moved”. We quickened our pace. By the time we had regained the dinghy, it was clear that the wind had increased to about F4 and Molly was dragging.

The waves on the shore were not so easy to negotiate as our arrival and it was a much more strenuous row. We agreed that as soon as we reached Molly, I would go to the bow and Ben would start the engine, whilst niki remained in the dinghy. There were a scant few metres between Molly and the shore when the engine was engaged, but the anchor was soon recovered and the only casualty was poor Niki, who not only had a good soaking in the dinghy but cut her hand into the bargain.

Niki retired below to warm up under a blanket , whilst Ben and I motored across Plymouth Sound. It was slow going, dead into the wind and we also had to contend with crossing the track of a magnificent fleet of flying offshore racers heading for Galway and thence Shetland.

Eventually we reached our planned lunch stop and dropped the plough anchor for the last time in Cellar Bay at the mouth of the Yealm. By this time I had very much decided that my plan to eventually replace it should be brought forward to a status of immediate.

Lunch in Cellar Bay at the mouth of the Yealm

We enjoyed a pleasant lunch and siesta before hosting Dermot, our friend and fellow Crabber 26 owner, who lives nearby and sailed out to see us in his Drascombe Dabber. Sadly rain prompted him to return home but we elected to motor up the Yealm despite the steady rain. It’s a most beautiful spot, even in the downpour. We motored up to Noss Mayo, though we didn’t stop for a pint!

Our return to plymouth sound was another motor session, after we had motored into a strong wind all the way to the Yealm, there was no breeze at all for our return. After that plod, we were happy to arrive at Sutton Marina. We enjoyed a meal of Morroccan Lamb with butternut squash, which Niki had prepared earlier and cooked in our Thermal Cooker.