Life is an adventur

Sailing is a passio

We all have to start somewhere

Capt. J.M.Wolstenholme ‘Mr John’

n

The Voyage
The Boat….
A
Shipman 28
An account of the First Voyage of a want-to-be Ocean Sailor

FORWARD

This manuscript was written in 1979 and was then buried with other
paperwork for forty years…..

Dusting it o and reading it myself has been a bit of an eye opener,

amongst other things I discovered that I was quite a heavy drinker back
then. It’s amazing how time changes things, these days I very rarely, if
ever, drink on passage. Even though I now live in Spain, I cannot
remember the last time I went to a bar for a drink……I’m not to sure
whether that’s a change for the better or worse.

Not only do people change over time but so do places, the Mediterranean
was very di erent back then with less people, less boats and few
Marinas. Since then some of the places I visited have changed beyond
comprehension, some improved and many become tourist traps of the
worst kind. Back then it was cheap and good for the most part, now so
many great places have gone, but what suits one maybe no good for
another and vice versa so you have to see it yourself.

I guess I was quite adventurous back then, youth can be like that, but
most of us get less adventurous and more cautious as we get older. There
are many steps to this creeping caution, becoming responsible for
someone else on board, marriage, children, nancial responsibilities,
getting old, they all play a part. To anyone young reading this I can only
say “go for it while you still can….It’s not a pipe dream, it’s an achievable
goal”.

Lest anyone forget, or perhaps you just don’t know, things have changed
a lot since the 70’s, back then we did not have Satnav’s, we did not have
digital charts, we did not have roller furling (or most of us didn’t have it).
Slab ree ng was just coming in and you had to have a new boat or racing
yacht to have that on board. We used sextants to do celestial navigation
and much of our coastal navigation, with vertical and horizontal sextant
angles, all of which required books of tables and time consuming
computations, resulting in a position (if you were lucky) that had an
accuracy of within two miles (if you were good at it). Weather forecasting
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 was a ‘dark art’ and most of the time just getting a forecast was an even
darker art!

For most of the modern boats of that era to reef the mainsail, there was a
worm gear on the gooseneck of the boom, and by cranking a handle the
boom would revolve wrapping the sail around it. As the sail came down it
would get more and more baggy and most people would have some
special item like a long thick sock which they would throw into the wrap
whilst ree ng, this would displace the bag making a atter sail, which is
what you need as the wind gets heavier. On the Shipman there was a
lacing system that would atten out the sail for stronger winds and before
ree ng. It improved things but it wasn’t great. To combat this I carried two
Mainsails, the normal one and another which was smaller, heavier and cut
at. I ended up with eleven sails and used all of them at times. On many
occasions the saloon would be one big sail-loft, I never used the bunks at
sea, I’d just collapse on top of the sails…… That may explain why I was
single-handed for so long!

When it comes to single or short handed ocean sailing it’s not just a
question of knowledge, there is also resolve, personal resolve and
steadfastness of purpose with a good measure of personal tness and
endurance. The sea is a mistress that tempts you in then nds all your
weaknesses and exploits them. I have, over fty years of sailing, found
that you can never get everything right but you can at least be ready for
them going wrong. A whole lot is down to preparation and quite a
considerable amount is down to luck.

I certainly learnt a lot from this voyage and some of what I learnt helped
me to sail thousands of miles over the following forty years. I do hope you
can nd something herein that helps you in your quest, whatever it may
be.

John Wolstenholme - Spain 2021

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 FIRST VOYAGE
In August of 1977 I was out looking for a boat and like most things I do, it
was all a great rush. I had a good idea of what I wanted and what I could
a ord to pay so I was able to narrow down a small eld of contenders
and eventually settled for one that was lying just a few miles of what was
then my home, near Gallows Point, North Wales. The boat was a
Shipman 28 and although she was not the best bargain of the year, she
was in my opinion a good buy as she had had little use and was in fairly
good condition having spent much of her life out of the water.

Like most people I have to work and what with the boat and ‘moving
house’ to a villa in Spain, I was left with little option but to leave her where
she was for the rest of that season. When the next season came along so
also dld the chance of going to college to study, I toyed with the idea that
I could get my boat close to college and live aboard, thus saving money
and getting to know the boat at the same time, however deep down I
knew that study and boats do not mix well, so the boat was left for
another season ashore. During this whole period I only went on board
about half a dozen times, I had loads to do but simply no time to spare so
she got to look a little neglected as time passed by.

0n the 9th May 1979 I arrived on board having just own in from Spain,
the weather was being typically British, or should I say ‘typically Welsh’
and it was cold to say the least. Having nowhere else to go now that I’d
moved out of the U.K., I had to live on board from the word go and as
nothing had been aired it was not the best of conditions available for
someone that had just left warmer climates. My rst problem was the
cooker, I had earlier removed the original Camping Gaz system and
installed a Colman para n cooker and this now steadfastly refused all my
e orts to bring a little warmth into my world. Having read all the books I
knew that my cooker was going to be one of the most important pieces of
equipment on board when I nally got away to sea and I knew that a
temperamental cooker ashore could be a liability at sea, so out it went
and back came the Gaz. There are times when safety comes second to
feasibility.

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 My rst night on board was not the most comfortable, even when the Gaz
was going, however I had managed to shorten it by sitting in the Yacht
Club till closing time. It was a cold and windy walk back to the boat that
night and I had time to re ect on what I had come to do, it is a challenge
to just sail o into the blue, even on a boat that you know well. My idea
was to do that in a boat I had never even seen a oat before, let alone
sailed.

It was not only the boat that was going to be tested, it was also me! I had
not yet done much single-handed work and was not to sure if I would like
the idea when nally faced with it. I had no doubt about the seamanship
or navigational angle of the scheme or that I could manage the boat, it
was just as to whether I would like it or not. I had decided that this was a
good time to nd out, before I thought about getting a bigger boat or
committing myself any further nancially in this direction.

The next day started with rain which somehow managed to continue
throughout, I spent most of my time reorganising down below and
drinking loads of hot co ee to keep the cold out. I did manage to get a
rough date set for the launching, leaving myself a week to get everything
done. Out of that week I would drop about four days to personal matters
which would have me scurrying about the country like some express
waterlogged rat. So, with not a moment to lose I launched myself into the
preparations. I was lucky right from the start and one bit of luck was that
the boat next to mine was ‘Good Question’, a Contessa 32, which was
now the pride and joy of my own boats previous owner, and by good
fortune Charles and his charming wife Jessie were preparing to launch
around the same time as me. I don’t quite know what they thought of me
as they were able to look down and see the mess that I was making
aboard their old boat, which had once looked quite neat. Having Charles
at hand to guide me saved considerable time and expense as he knew all
the things that needed doing and what could safely be left till later, also I
was able to ask him about all the things that I had forgotten to ask about
when I had bought the boat.

That evening Charles and his wife had me over to their holiday cottage for
dinner and later we all adjourned to my club, the Royal Anglesey to wash
it down, that night I went to my bunk well fed, half plonked and very
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 contented. All this did not stop me making a six-o’clock start on the cold
and wet morning of the 11th…..I got stuck into the valves and skin
ttings, sampled the fuel and lifted the battery out of the bilge (which was
no easy task). Charles came across and soon had the engine running for
me which was very reassuring as it had not had any attention for over a
year and had not been winterised during the three winters that the boat
had been laying there. I also got a letter o to the R.Y.A. for an
International Certi cate of Registration under the Small Ships Register,
this because I had neither the time or the money to go for o cial
registration at that moment.

During the previous eight months I had left most of my boat gear at my
brothers house which was just a couple of miles from Gallows Point
where the boat was sitting in her cradle, laid up, ashore. I think he had
had enough of falling over large and small pieces of gear, thus had
reached the stage of issuing ultimatums as to what he would do if I did
not get things moved quickly. I suppose that having an Aries Vane Gear in
ones lounge for eight months could be a bit wearing. So, on the morning
of the 12th May I caught the bus into Bangor and dutifully hired a car to
give me the required mobility.

I soon discovered that the amount of equipment that I had stored away
was more than I had anticipated, it was somewhat more than my hire-car
could handle. My brother volunteered to carry the rest for me, provided I
pay him his petrol costs of course, which just goes to show how far
brotherly love can go! Two hours later I was sitting in the cockpit trying to
gure out how I was going to get inside the boat with all the gear that was
now stacked up to the deck-head. My problem was that I had a lot of
things surplus to requirements, what with two sextants, four compasses,
ve anchors and enough rope to tie up the QE2, ve sets of oars and two
wind vane self steering gears. On top of which there were eight extra sails
and a whole host of other stu ! It all boiled down to a big headache,
anyway I got stuck in and after three hours or so was able to move about
inside with some degree of freedom, which was a good job really as it
had decided to rain again.

That night was spent at the Treath Coch Sailing Club in the company of
‘big brother’ and I.D.A. who all the Yachting Monthly fanatics will
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 recognise as being the Anglesey and North Wales representative. Treath
Coch may not be one of the biggest clubs in the land but as far as
‘Sailing Type’ boozy do’s are concerned, it one was one of the best. In my
opinion, that is what a good sailing club is all about, somewhere you can
go and be merry over a few jars whilst keeping the main line of
conversation turned towards boats. I don’t remember too much about
getting back to the boat that night (or should I say the next morning) but I
shall always remember the warmth and generosity of that club and its
members.

The next day was a slow starter but I still managed to get quite a bit done
including the Antifouling, this was not the most successful of applications
as I discovered that the original anti-foul had started to go chalky and in
some places had completely lost it’s adhesion to the hull, if I’d had the
time it would have been best to get the old coat o and start the whole
job from a bare hull however time was running very short.

Monday the 14th was rigging day, I arranged to have the mast brought
out of the shed and then got down to cleaning it up and preparing it to be
tted, I had to buy some some new halyards and t them as originally
there was only one halyard for forward and one for aft of the mast which
may have been all right for sailing around the bay but not for anything
else, this was also the moment that I found how horribly expensive
stainless steel wire can be. It took the best part of the day to sort out the
mast and I soon discovered that where rigging is concerned ‘Sods Law’
prevails. I did manage to get everything back together but whenever I
hoisted a sail from then on, large chunks of polystyrene foam would leak
from the bottom of the mast. That night I cooked myself a steak on board,
which, along with vegetables and salad, was washed down with a bottle
of wine. This was my celebration for having arrived at a state that the
boat was ready for a oat test. Although I was fairly con dent she would
oat, I was rather dubious as to where the water line was going to be.

Next morning I walked up to the club for a shower, I could have saved
myself the walk and just stood out in the cockpit in the rain, which was
almost as cold and wet as the club shower. Things did manage to
brighten up somewhat by the time I started back for the boat but about
half way along the sea wall I noticed that something had changed at the
boatyard and that something was that my boat was no longer where I had
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left it!! It had been there for the previous three years and the fact that it
had moved came as a bit of a shock, I wasn’t used to seeing things
happen quickly in Wales, but as I got closer I could see that not only had
she been moved to the top of the slipway but the mast was already up.

Stan, the chap in charge of launching and hauling out, had everything
under control. As soon as I arrived on the scene, he and his mate
adjourned leaving me to set things up. Not being the greatest believer in
engines I decided to hank on the Genoa and rig the Mainsail, thus being
ready to take o under sail should the need arise. That evening I
entertained Charles and Jessica on board and apart from me starting to
drift o to sleep in the middle of things, I think it all went quite well.
Nothing can match the atmosphere of a cosy cabin in a small yacht, a
twinkling hurricane lamp, good food and a bottle of wine or two to wash it
all down.. . . . . . Of course, most people wait until they have got a oat
before they launch into that kind of thing but not ‘Mr John’, I get started a
little earlier than most, even if it means clambering up and down ladders
in a wet and windy boatyard in the middle of the night.

The 16th of May, what a morning! Continuous light rain and a forecast of
winds increasing to gale force, so o came the Genoa and on went the
Working Jib, then, in went six rolls on the mainsail. Stan arrived and at
10:30hrs the boat was moved down to the bottom of the beach to await
the incoming tide. Shortly after that Charles arrived and ‘Good Question’
was moved down alongside me.

We had planned to take some photos of each other sailing o but the
weather precluded that so I had to make do with one or two drab and
dreary shots of her as the tide rose.

It was soon very apparent that she was going to oat well below her
marks, In a way I was surprised that she oated at all with the weight of
the gear that had been stowed on board however oat she did and soon
we were drifting across the bay towards the nearest moored boat, which I
managed to get a line aboard and fend o all at the same time.

I then took a couple of deep breaths and started the engine which
startled me by going at the rst touch of the button and settling down to a
nice steady throb with all systems go. The engine sounded one hell of a
lot more con dent than I felt but as I had a tide to catch I took the bull by
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 the horns, let go forward and set o with a cheery wave and a couple of
blasts on the horn for Charles, who, with a greater draft, was still waiting
to oat o .

I headed south towards Port Dinorwic, which was where I intended to

stay whilst I made the nal preparations for departure. The tide had been
in my favour for a while at ‘The Swellies’, which ls a notorious piece of
water that lies between the two bridges that span the Menai Straits. Here
the tide can run over ten knots in places and as the water rushes through
it sets up nasty little cross currents which can rather upset things if one is
caught unprepared. I was a little late, however the tide was running with
me so this meant that it would be a bit of a sleigh ride but with the engine
still running sweetly and the cooling water, which I was anxiously
checking, coming through just warm and steady, we committed ourselves
and roared through at a great rate of knots.

One small problem was that I was not able to leave the helm without
shearing o to starboard so I didn't get much time to look at the chart, It
had been a few years since I had been down the Straits but I think I
managed to turn in all the right places, the main thing being that I didn’t
hit anything, not that the passage is all that di cult, but it is not unknown
for people to touch the odd rock now and then.

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I arrived o Port Dinorwic to nd that a boat was just being locked
through and the outer lock gates were closed, which was rather a blow as
I was hoping to get in on this tide especially as it had now started to blow
quite hard and the rain was still coming down in sheets. I managed to
manoeuvre alongside a pontoon which was lying along the outside wall
and leaving the engine ticking over went along to see my old friends Tom
and Gwillem who looked after the running of the lock and the dock, both
of them have known me since when I was just a wee small boy at the
start of my maritime life. I think they were somewhat surprised to see me
and showed great interest in my new boat, anyway they agreed to get me
in and so I returned to the boat whilst they got the lock in motion. By
15:10hrs we were secure alongside a U.F.O. in the inner dock and I got to
work right away on some of the jobs that were still on my very long list… I
was still working at 22:30hrs when I felt I’d had enough and after a quick
dinner and turned in for the night.

The forecast on the morning of the 17th said that it was going to be wet
cold and miserable in the northwest for the next couple of days, so
without more ado I proceeded to Plymouth by train where I found that the
sun was shining and the lilac trees were in bloom. All the young girls were
wearing their summer dresses and I could hardly believe that I’d travelled
only a couple of hundred miles south, it made me more determined than
ever to get away from North Wales and it’s wet, cold climate. I stoped

the night with another old friend and next morning dashed around doing
my work and taking the opportunity to buy a few of the things I needed
for the boat that I couldn’t get up north, then I jumped on a train and
headed back. Sure enough by the time we got north of Birmingham it was
raining once more. That evening I had Fish and Chips from the local
Chippy and this gave me time to rig up a small derrick aft using the
spinnaker pole.

Once it got too dark outside I had a look through my selection of charts to
see what else was needed, it was way after midnight before I struggled
into my bunk.

Saturday the 19th and I was up with the dawn. Number one job for the
morning was an oil change, which I managed to get half way through
when I had to leave o to go through to Bangor to hire an electric drill for
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 the tting of the Vane Gear, and do a little shopping before returning to
the boat shortly after noon.

Port Dinorwic Dock

Fitting the Vane Gear
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 On return, I had to move my berth to get electricity for the drill and I
needed a hot engine to complete the oil change. The old oil had been
drained o with the engine hot earlier in the morning, after which I had
ushed through with new oil twice and then left it standing with new oil in
whilst I was ashore in Bangor, this now needed draining before the nal
lling. I was going through quite a lot of oil doing all this but after such
along period of neglect I thought it was the very least I could do.

The berth I moved to was starboard side alongside and with boats
moored three abreast astern of it and two abreast ahead, it was quite a
di cult operation getting in, it was soon quite clear that going astern was
not one of the Shipman’s strong points. Whilst there was no problem
about speed, direction was somewhat in the lap of the gods. Eventually
however we made it alongside without hitting anything or getting pinned
to the bowsprit of the outside boat of the three astern. I completed the oil
change and got to work on tting the self steering vane, this was not the
most easy of jobs to be doing by ones self as you needed at least three
hands, one of which needed to be attached to a six foot arm with at least
ve joints.

When everything was just about completed, ‘Big Brother’ turned up, as
usual much too late to be helpful but he did put my mind at rest about it
being correctly positioned. He said it looked "pretty good” and that was
about as big a complement as I could ever get from him, anyway, around
sunset I had it all wrapped up and so proceeded back to my old berth.
That night and early the next morning was spent working on electrical
problems which were eventually solved around 02:00hrs next day.

Sunday the 20th May, this was the day I had selected for doing trials.
Most of the books I had read told of a short cruise or a work-up race as
being the best form of trials, Chichester spent weeks over it and Clare
Frances a couple of days thrashing about in the Channel, as she was a
little more pushed for time. I decided that my trials would probably be the
shortest on record as I cut them down to three and a half hours of sail
changing whilst still alongside in the berth, however I did manage to see
what went where and was able to check that the halyards were running
freely. After that I hoisted the dinghy on board and lashed it down well on
the cabin top, its after end projected over the hatchway and although this
made entry below more di cult it did mean that I could have the hatch
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 open no matter how hard it rained and no matter how much spray came
aboard, so long as it was coming from forward. I was very pleased with
the way it itted. It was snug and tight and did not get in the way of any
of the boats sailing apparatus, also it did not a ect the view forward as
when seated in the cockpit you could easily see round it.

That evening it poured with rain again so l did as many of the odd jobs
outstanding on my list that I could. The next day saw me shooting o to
Liverpool where, apart from making arrangements about my work, I
collected some charts and one or two other bits and pieces that I needed
before returning to the boat. Getting to Liverpool and back on public
transport in a day was an expedition which required both good timing and
good luck but somehow I made it and was back on board before
darkness fell.

At 20:00hrs. Big Brother came down and we had dinner on board, I don’t
know, but I got the impression that he was one of the disbelievers as far
as my little adventure was concerned, although he did conceded that the
boat was now looking like it was about to really go places. That is a
noticeable thing about any ship or boat, when they are ready for sea they
take on a purposeful air, its something that you can see right away or feel
through the deck as soon as you step on board. A lot of people walking
round the dock had asked me where I was going and that is one of those
questions that I always try to avoid answering directly, I don't like to
commit myself to any plan when l’m sailing, that way I have plenty of
scope should the weather turn adverse. I usually told people that I was
going south, but as to how far south I didn’t yet know. To the more
knowledgable I would add that if by some uke I got as far south as Cape
St Vincent then I would turn left, however I always added, that if I didn’t
get any further than the south coast of England I would still be quite
happy.

I told Graham over the meal that I was getting clearance outwards for
Vilamoura and I intended to make for Malta where I could leave the boat
for the winter, I could see by the way he choked on his spaghetti that he
thought I was dreaming, but in all fairness he agreed to come and see me
o the next day. When he had gone I worked through the night and well
into the early hours of the next morning knocking jobs o my list, but
there were still many outstanding.

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Tuesday the 22nd of May and the day of departure had arrived, only six
days after launching and three of those had been spent away from the
boat, that had left me only three days for tting out, which just shows
how ‘ready to go’ these modern G.R.P. boats can be. I arranged for
locking out that evening and paid my dock bill, then went on a last minute
shopping spree.

Another job that I had to do was call the R.Y.A., the previous evening my
brother had brought my mail with him and I found that the R.Y.A. had
returned my cheque and application form for the Small Ships Register,
they had changed the application form and the price and so had sent me
a new form to ll in. I got them on the phone and explained that I was
about to sail and they promised to send the certi cate direct to Vilamoura
to await my arrival, this now meant that I could get problems should I
decide to put in somewhere along the way and nd that a certi cate was
required. I didn't want to end up in some jail or have my boat con scated,
anyway the voice at the other end of the line was very reassuring and said
that in the event of this happening they would issue another certi cate
and I would get It within a few days at wherever I happened to be. I
returned on board loaded down with shopping , then, in the middle of the
13:55hrs shipping forecast, the Customs O cer arrived to give me
clearance outwards. This was all xed up very quickly because, as the
Customs man explained, he had a system for getting through the paper
work. He needed one as well, I had never imagined that there would be
so many forms to ll in for such a small boat, however I guess that is why
the British pay so much tax…..Got to keep the civil service working.

Big brother arrived and volunteered to help me shift out of the dock, so
we just hung around waiting till there was enough water for the lock. At
18:30hrs everything was ready so we shifted down and at 18:45hrs we
cleared the lock and I put her up against the pontoon outside whilst ‘B.B.’
scrambled ashore with the camera, then I proceeded to do a few turns
under power whilst posing for some photos. After a few shots I motored
over to the pontoon and picked up the camera, then with a nal wave and
a blast on the horn I was o .

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At 19:00hrs on a clear and calm evening I logged my departure from Port
Dinorwic and with ngers crossed wrote Vilamoura in the Log as my
destination. The tide was setting against me for the rst hour but I caught
‘high water slack’ as I motored over Caernarfon Bar. I hadn’t put much
thought into where I was heading until then but wherever I went, it was
apparent that I would have to motor! Porthdinllaen seamed like a good
choice as it got me away from the stronger tidal streams that set around
Anglesey. At 21:00hrs the Bar Buoys were passed astern and I hoisted
the No.2 Mainsail to try and steady her up a bit as we motored to the
south on a calm sea with a moderate confused swell. At this point I
discovered that in calm conditions it was possible to lash the tiller whilst
motoring and she would go along for a few minutes without attention, so
at least I could get myself a cup of tea without having to stop.

To the north of Porthdinllaen there are a couple of nasty rocks marked by

a Perch, the night was very dark and the light that was situated on the
headland was having one of its ‘occasional’ rests. All this made the
approach somewhat uncertain however, when a big black cone on the
end of a pole (Carreg y Chwislen) materialised out of the darkness only
yards ahead there was little doubt as to my position.

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I sheared away to starboard and after regaining some composure
motored slowly and carefully into the bay. I rapidly came to the
conclusion that there had been enough shocks for one night and so,
remembering that there were more rocks and all sorts of boats on
moorings in the northeast corner of the bay I proceeded eastwards some
ways and dropped anchor in a spot where I was more alone.

At 23:30hrs all was secure on deck and I went below to have a meal and
turn in, I set my alarm for an hour and a half after which time I popped out
to have a look around. It didn’t take long to establish that we were
dragging slowly across the bay, however with the rate at which she was
going I was able to get a couple of half hour sleep periods in before I had
to take some action. My problem had been caused by going astern too
hard on the anchor, instead of digging it in I had dredged through a Kelp
Bed, smothering the anchor. Anyway, I got the motor going, heaved up
and proceeded back to where I had started from. This time however, I
dropped two anchors and refrained from putting too much astern power
on during the operation. When l got back into my sleeping bag I didn’t
bother with the alarm, I told myself that the only thing that was going to
get me out there again was the sound of the keel touching the bottom. It
might well have been May, but the way it was outside that night was a
very good impression of an Arctic winter.

Next morning I was up at 07:30hrs, I don’t know why because l was tired
out....For sure, it was not the prospect of a bright new day. Firstly, there
was nothing bright about it (in fact just the opposite). Secondly, with the
amount of time I’d spent messing about re-anchorlng, the day wasn’t all
that new to me. Before anything else could be done I had a leak to x, the
pipe for fresh water had come loose at the galley pump so that every time
I used it a jet of water shot out all over the electrics of the engine control
panel. I succeeded in making a temporary repair but noted that I was in
need of some new hose, at least l could now ll the kettle from the pump
and have co ee with my breakfast.

It really was one of those wet, cold and miserable mornings. I worked my
way slowly round the boat getting ready to sail, this was all completed for
11:00hrs at which time I commenced heaving anchors. At noon on the
23rd May I logged “hoisted sail, set course to the west-northwest under
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No.2 Mainsail and No.1 jib”. There were one or two immediate problems
that had me steering with one hand and twirling a screwdriver with the
other but after only ten minutes of this I was able to bring the Self
Steering Gear (now called ‘George’) on line. It was most pleasing to nd
that the boat actually sailed quite well and George was keeping a steady
course, even though it was not quite in the direction that I wanted to go. I
wasn’t blaming George for this as the wind was now blowing force ve
from the southwest, and that was directly from where we were supposed
to be heading.

By 16:00hrs it was blowing a fairly steady force six with the occasional
gust to seven. That certainly wasn’t in the forecast! As the boat was
feeling somewhat over pressed I changed down to Storm Jib and put two
rolls in the Mainsail, shortly after which I logged…“Skipper not feeling too
good-- but getting along”. My problem arose from all the fried food that I
had eaten for both breakfast and lunch! So a note went in the logbook
and half a pound of good bacon went over the side.

Later in the evening the weather moderately slightly, I was able to reset
the No.1 Jib and shake the reefs out of the Mainsail but this was not
before I’d fought a battle with a water container. This monstrosity held
about seven gallons and weighed around 28KG, I had lashed it to the
foredeck so as to give an ‘even keel’ departure from Port Dinorwic,
however I soon discovered that this made the boat very bow heavy when
going to windward and instead of going over the seas she just went
crashing through them like some sort of nuclear submarine. When I went
up the deck to move it our combined weight made the situation ten times
worse and I got completely soaked as water cascaded over the bow.
Eventually I got the thing shifted and lashed it on deck amidships, each
time I went about from then on, I would move the container to the
windward side. The boat was riding the seas a lot better now but I knew
that I would have to think of somewhere else for the container as it was
generally in the way on deck. By midnight I was feeling somewhat better
and after I’d gone about and we were heading down the Irish Sea (more
in the direction I wanted to go) I was able to get some sleep.
Unfortunately, whilst I was sleeping one of my Storm Lamps broke adrift
and the fragile glass chimney inside got smashed, this was a blow as I
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had not expected to receive such damage so early in the voyage, I would
have to take great care of the other one.

Thursday the 24th was an improvement, to start with the sun came out
and although it was still cold in the wind I was able to get quite warm by
snuggling down low in the cockpit. I braved the elements and had a bath
from a bucket on the foredeck, after which I felt refreshed enough to get a
Meridian Passage and crossed it with a position line from the sun later in
the afternoon. Then, just to show what a high standard of navigation there
was on board, I got a couple of stars in the evening. It is always very
satisfying to lay a position down on the chart, particularly one obtained by
celestial observation. This may have been my rst major singlehanded
yachting adventure but I was no stranger at sea. I started sailing at the
age of six, went to pre-sea school at fourteen and was First O cer on an
ocean going ship at nineteen. Thus it was no surprise when, at midnight, I
sighted the light on Tusker Rock, right on time and just where I expected
it to be. The early hours of that next morning had me up and down like a
YoYo, there was quite a lot of shipping about and I couldn’t stay below for
more than fteen minutes at a time, on top of this the wind started to go
up and down keeping me active with more sail changes.

Around Noon on the Friday 25th, I was o Great Saltee Island on the Irish
coast and the wind had come round to West by South, which was right
on the nose for Kinsale (on the Irish coast), the port I had been making
for. After a quick check of gear and stores I decided that this was as good
a departure point as any and set course to the south with Vilamoura in
mind once more. That evening I got a pretty poor weather forecast and
the wind, seeming to hear this, picked up immediately and by 16:30hrs I
was down to No.1 Jib and four rolls in the No.2 mainsail as we thrashed
away into the night making good progress southwards.

Saturday the 26th and the 00:15hrs forecast was very poor, a complex
low pressure system was moving in and it sounded like a very nasty blow
was building up. That was food for thought. Shortly after that I took in the
Working Jib and hoisted the Storm Jib, which made the boat more
comfortable.

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 Just when I thought I could get my head down for a while the hinge
system on the main hatch gave way and I had to spend an hour doing
repairs so that I could close the hatch. After all this I logged in rather
broken hand-writing, “Skipper feeling very tired.. and unable to keep
awake much longer”.

Just to show that it had a mind of its own the wind suddenly started to
fade and I went all the way through the sail changes, unrolling the
mainsail and going from Storm Jib to Working Jib to No.2 Genoa and
nally No.1 Genoa, at which point we were becalmed, almost like
someone turned the tap o . I took the opportunity to drop all sail and turn
in whilst the boat just wallowed about with the helm lashed. It was well
after midday when I surfaced feeling somewhat refreshed but there was
still no wind. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the proverbial ‘calm
before the storm’

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 Whatever, I dld not complain as I used this period to clear up inside and
tighten the rigging which had managed to work loose on the passage,
doing this is not one of the easiest jobs at sea but having no alternative I
just tightened up all round and hoped for the best. By the time that I had
completed the work on the rigging a slight breeze arrived so at 15:40hrs I
hoisted No.2 Mainsail and the No.1 Genoa then set a southerly course
once more. The rest of that day was Shipman weather and we ploughed
to windward in a force three wind and light chop. A sea that has been
roughened up from calm but not yet developed any force or direction.

Sunday the 27th and the 00:15hrs forecast was a little more optimistic but
the complex low was still developing and it was fairly clear that the met
o ce was having some di culty in deciding what it was going to do. The
wind remained steady throughout the night and early morning so I
managed to get a good rest, however I was back on deck at 06:00hrs as
we were not too far o the Scilly Isles.

I only had a small scale chart of this area as I had not anticipated coming
this way, but it ls common knowledge that the tides around these islands
have made it a graveyard for hundreds of ships. Not wanting to become
another statistic, I took special interest in the (Radio) D.F. bearings that I
was getting from Round Island light house.

It was still nice sailing weather but I was uncertain what to make of the
complex low, sure enough there were wisps of alto cirrus clouds that
indicated high winds were already blowing a couple of miles up. If I’d had
a good chart I would probably have headed straight in, but as it was, it
took me most of the morning to come up with a plan of action. I got my
rst visual sighting around 10:00hrs and at 11:30hrs altered course to
pass close to the Bishop Rock Light house.

According to my plan I had a little over three hours to run from the alter
course position to the light, so I would be able to get the 13:55hrs
forecast and reconsider the situation before committing myself one way
or the other. The plan worked well, the forecaster and the Met. O ce had
nally sorted things out and got a little more information together. Enough
anyway for them to press the panic button and send a dozen or so
coastguards scurrying for their Southerly Gale Cone’s, which must have
shot up ag-poles all the way along the South Coast! With this thing
deepening and heading my way I knew that I would have to try for shelter
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in the Scilly Isles or bust, my problem now was to get in without hitting
anything on the way.

St. Mary’s was marked on my chart and I knew from some old movie that
l’d once seen that this was where the ferry from Penzance ran to, so thats
where I headed…..After all, if you could get a ship in, there must be room
for little old me!

As I moved in closer, I sighted a large German Ketch coming out through

a gap in the rocks, they appeared to be leaving and so, thinking that I
could perhaps purchase a chart o them or even get a rough sketch of
the approaches to St Mary’s, I headed o to intercept them. A good job I
did too, for if I’d kept my original course I would have been walking
ashore within the hour. My interception plan didn’t work, as before I could
get near her, she hoisted a great cloud of sail and shot o like a rocket
towards the mainland. He was obviously in a hurry to get there before the
blow arrived.

When it dawned on me that I wasn’t going to catch him, I broke o the

pursuit and headed back towards the gap in the rocks through which I’d
seen him come. About this time a French yacht arrived on the scene and
was heading my way, so I slowed right down to let him catch up whilst
working my way in to the gap, which appeared to be the approach
channel.

When the French boat came up with me I hailed her and asked where she
was bound, they replied “St. Mary’s”, which I found interesting as I
thought that we had already gone passed the harbour entrance and were
going somewhere else! Anyway, I said I’d like to follow them as I didn’t
have a chart, and they seemed to agree, whilst giving me one of those
looks that most people reserve for raving lunatics and politicians. They
may have had their doubts about me but I wasn’t so sure about them
either, they had one of those navigators who did his pilotage sitting on the
coachroof with a portion of crumpled chart in hand, whilst looking around
furiously trying to get things on the chart to agree with what was visible
on the land (or vice-versa). After I’d seen him read the chart rst one way
up then the other and make large gestures to the helmsman as if he was
willing the boat to to be picked up and moved bodily sideways, I was glad
that she was a much bigger boat than ‘Mr John’ and therefore must be
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 drawing more water. I let the distance between us increase so that should
she run into anything I would have more room to manoeuvre.

This turned out to be unnecessary, as shortly afterwards we made a

sharp starboard turn and came up around the back side of St. Marys,
giving me a glimpse of the harbour and anchorage ahead.

It turned out that the Port was called ‘Hugh Town’ and the Island ‘St.
Mary’s’, which just goes to show how short of information I was. It is
situated on an isthmus which is formed by two bays, the harbour being in
the northern bay. I had expected, from what I could make out on my
chart, that the harbour was in the southern bay, which was why I thought
we had passed it on the way in. Anyway, all’s well that ends well, and at
16:30hrs we came to anchor about a hundred yards o the breakwater.
What with one thing and another the anchoring operation had been a bit
slap-dash, so when I had the mainsail stowed and the boat looking a little
more shipshape, I decided that it would be a good idea to heave up and
re-anchor. We went for a short steam around the harbour but it was easy
to see that there was a shortage of swinging room nearer to the beach, so
I returned close to my last anchor position but this time, judging things a
little better so as to be able to use full scope on the cable. After I had the
main anchor out I got the dinghy over the side and took away a kedge
anchor, made up of some chain with about two hundred feet of nylon.
With all this lot out I was fairly con dent that she wasn’t going to do any
dragging, there was a nasty, rocky shore to leeward so I needed to be
con dent.

Whilst laying out the kedge, the people from the French yacht came over
and invited me to join them for dinner, an invitation that I accepted
gratefully as I had been away from human contact for some time and had
not yet adjusted to being completely alone for such long periods. I
managed to smarten myself up and dragged a bottle of wine out of the
locker to take across with me, I carefully practiced the six or seven
French words that I know, hung out my anchor light and at the allotted
time rowed across. It all went very well, despite the language barrier. Of
course being a typical Englishman the barrier was mainly mine, between
them the crew of the French Yacht could manage at least ve other
languages and get along quite well in English, whilst all I could o er
besides my six words was some very broken Spanish which was hardly
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up to conversation level. However, the wine owed and so did the food. I
got to look at the famous crumpled chart and at last got some idea of
how many rocks I’d missed. One shock was the discovery that their boat
was a centre-boarder and drew considerably less water than my own
boat, so I had been under a false sense of security whilst I followed them
in. By the time we had nished the dinner it was blowing half a gale
across the anchorage, the French boat with her high topsides and light
displacement was shearing about all over and it was quite cheering to see
my own boat, illuminated by her anchor light, ridding steadily to her
anchor.

Time to leave came along all too soon, it had been most enjoyable being
a guest to such open, warm hearted people and of course the French
cuisine goes without saying. When I got back aboard my boat I was able,
once more, to retire well fed, half plonked and very happy.

Monday the 28th, the forecast at 00:15hrs gave gales for all the western
approaches plus Biscay and Finisterre, I noted in my log “glad to be
here”. Because of our nearness to the lee shore I set the alarm for one
hour intervals and kept a weather eye on things.

At 03:00hrs I recorded “up and down a bit as the wind whistles through
the rigging. . . . cold like hell!!”

The 06:25hrs forecast wasn’t any better with the gale warnings
progressing eastwards along the south coast so I resigned myself to a
couple of days of being weather bound in port. That morning I managed
to get together about sixty pounds weight in assorted junk, which I later
took ashore and dumped. There was a lot of re-stowing to do now that I’d
been able to sort out what was needed on passage and what could safely
be pushed away to the back of the lockers. At noon I took my
anemometer out and recorded gusts of force seven right there in the
anchorage where there was some shelter from the town, it was also
raining, cold and bloody awful sailing weather.

I went ashore late in the afternoon to spy out the land then returned on
board for dinner, both wind and rain eased during the early evening so I
went ashore again for a couple of drinks. I walked around having a half
here and another half there sort of thing but the truth of the matter was
that I was feeling a little lonely so I returned on board none the better for
my outing.

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 Next morning the weather was a little better but still not quite right for
sailing, besides I had just got into the idea of being able to pop ashore for
a drink whenever I liked, and Hugh Town was such a quaint place that I
had decided to prolong my stay by at least another day.

At 09:00hrs I buoyed my anchor lines and left them where they were
whilst proceeding alongside the harbour wall to take fuel and stores. The
fuel only ran to seven gallons including the lling of my reserve container
and due to the falling tide I had to cut short the store-taking.
Unfortunately, at this moment, when I had less than a foot of water
beneath the keel and that amount getting less and less by the minute, I
discovered that the engine didn't want to go. A whole ood of terrible
problems raced through my mind but in the end, after I’d calmed myself
slightly, I reasoned that it was most probably a at battery due to
excessively playing the tape recorder the night before. Also, trying to start
the thing in gear didn't help matters! Anyway, it went straight away when I
cranked it with the handle and we trundled back to the anchors without
further ado.

I went ashore again for lunch and to complete taking stores. Also I had to
recover the ships laundry, which I had previously taken to be washed.
When I returned on board it was time to start thinking about sailing again
and so launched myself into departure preparations. I had another go at
the rigging, repaired the sink pump, changed to the No.1 Mainsail,
secured the dinghy on deck, tted a new Gaz cylinder and sorted out the
water situation, cutting down drastically on the amount to be carried. The
container that I had lugged about on deck was emptied and stowed away
and in the end I settled for ten gallons as a departure gure. This allowed
me ve gallons per week which is ample for a single hander, in-fact it
turned out to be more than ample and when my time comes for going
across the pond I shall work on three gallons per week (four pints per day
with beer included).

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 ‘Mr John’ at anchor o Hugh Town

Wednesday the l0th and the morning forecast was not too bad, so at
08:10hrs I commenced heaving anchors and when they were both aboard
we proceeded alongside the harbour wall again. It was then that I
discovered that the beauties of St. Mary’s were not entirely free, the
Harbour Master came along with his collection tin. I knew I should have
sneaked o early! Oh well, you can’t win them all. The main reason for
coming alongside was to see if I could og some of my surplus gear to
the local chandlery but the guy was unable to get down so it looked like
‘Mr John’ was going to have to lug the stu all the way to Spain. The
other job which was best done alongside was the stowing of the anchors
and cables, most of which went into the bilge. One of the things I like
about the Shipman is that she has a very deep well as part of the keel,
this not only serves as a great place to stow anchors but also allows the
collection of bilge water in a position where it is well clear of the lockers.
By the time everything was stowed away a light drizzle had begun to fall
so I donned my oilskins and old campaign hat, the Harbour Master very
kindly let go my for’d lines whilst a helpful tourist let go aft. There was a
whole load of people gathered on the quay waiting to take the days sight-
seeing trips around the islands in the local launches, most of them,
having nothing better to do at that moment, were watching my departure.
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 “Where did you say you were going” the Harbour Master called as I
started to pull clear of the wall, I replied "Vilamoura, Portugal”. Well, eyes
widened and heads turned as I got the classic ‘you’re not going on your
own in that little thing’ type look. It suddenly struck me that I was about
to do something that not many people ever got the chance to do even if
they wanted to.

Whilst in Hugh Town I’d managed to copy a chart of the area so motoring
clear posed no navigational problems, however I was not immune to
other problems. As I was putting St. Mary’s astern there was a slight
smell of burning in the air which did not bother me until I saw smoke
coming from the aft locker. Lashing the helm I dived in head rst,
extinguisher in hand, and quickly discovered that the source of the smoke
was the exhaust fan which was in ‘slow self destruct’ mode. The exhaust
fan was there to suck out the fumes from the engine compartment,
fortunately it was not critical to have it working so I turned o the power
and isolated the unit from the supply by removing the fuse, then gave the
thing a good squirt of Dry Powder from one of my re extinguishers. That
seemed to take care of it!

Not an auspicious start to the passage, after all, I hadn’t been out of port
an hour at that time. I continued under power for a few more miles before
stopping the engine and hoisting the sails, up went the No.1 Mainsail and
No.2 Genoa then, as the wind was from aft, I hoisted the Spinnaker and
pulled the Genny down again.

That all lasted about thirty seconds, after which the pole tting broke at
the mast. This was a more severe blow as it was quite a nice day, there
was only about force two to three wind and no obvious reason that the
tting would break, so I began to have doubts about some of the other
ttings on the mast. Also I had been expecting to use the pole a lot during
my run down the Portuguese coast and whilst I could always set the pole
on a strop it was always going to be a hassle, what was more, I ran the
risk of doing some damage to the mast by putting loads on it where they
were not meant to be. The problem was temporarily shelved when the
wind died and left us wallowing in the Tra c Lanes to the south of the
Silly Isles. This not being one of the most healthy places to stop, I
dropped all sails and put in two hours motoring to the south.

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 18:00hrs came along and I was getting quite hungry so I stopped
everything and went below for dinner. The menu for that meal was pork
steak fried in butter with plenty of garlic, fresh mushrooms, mashed
potatoes and red wine with canned fruit to follow. After which there was
co ee in the cockpit whilst I surveyed the weather. By the time I had
washed the dishes, the wind had appeared, not much but enough to get
going once more so up went the Mainsail and Genoa again.

That evening I had two guests aboard, a couple of swallows. They

seemed fairly content to hang around under the dinghy where they could
sit on the thwart and watch me coming and going through the hatch. By
midnight it was getting quite cold outside and the more adventurous of
the swallows decided it would be better if he came inside to keep warm.

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 Thursday the 31st., 03:00hrs and it was a at calm, the Mainsail was just
apping about so I lowered it and went back to my bunk, that being the
warmest place to be. At 06:00hrs the wind came up so we set o again
under Main and Genny, I noted that my guest for the night, who had been
snuggling up to the storm lamp in the forecastle, had departed leaving a
visitors card in my sea-boots. By 09:10hrs I had a position line from the
sun which I crossed with a Consol (Sonne) bearing from Ploneis to give
me a x (by which I mean a position on the chart). We were cracking
along at a good rate of knots but the wind was still increasing and there
were some heavy rain squalls about, I was hanging on to the Genoa
whilst watching the wind force carefully. Unfortunately, shortly after noon
the wind went over force ve, so down came the Genny and up went the
jib. Conditions stabilised soon after that and we continued to crash to
windward in what I would term ‘good sailing weather’, however it would
have been better if the wind had eased round slightly and allowed me to
lay the course. Like all good things, this wind didn’t last and by dinner
time we were back under full Mainsail and Genoa, still going but slow
progress.

After dinner in a sudden burst of activity, I went about cleaning away

some of the shore-side grime that was covering the boat. All that time
laid-up ashore had given the elements plenty of chance to do their worst
so I wasn’t surprised to nd that the real boat was a di erent colour when
the surface layers were removed. This was the rst chance I’d had to look
into boat cosmetics, it may seem a strange thing to be doing mid ocean
but it took my mind o other things and was thus quite relaxing.

Friday 1st of June, the 00:15hrs forecast looked pretty good for me but I
had now reached the stage where I didn’t believe them, as more often
than not, they had been wrong. Just to prove my point the wind died
away during the early morning and we were left becalmed once again. By
breakfast time the wind was back and we were making reasonable
progress once more, this was to be the rst long run that I got with the
sheets eased, it had swung to the northeast and although it was cold, it
was at least from the right direction.

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 At this point, the long nights and lack of sleep had began to take its toll
on me, I had a whopper of a cold and a sore throat to go with it, generally
speaking I wasn’t feeling up to much but as I was now moving into the
tra c lanes once more, I had to spend more time looking out for
shipping. I had not intended to come into the area that I was now in but
being a sailing boat we were at the mercy of the wind and that had
steadily pushed me deeper into the Bay of Biscay.

Saturday the 2nd of June, and the rst thing that I managed to log for the
day was, “what a rotten morning!! I’m up to my eyes with a head cold,
crossing a main tra c lane and so unable to lie down for more than thirty
minutes at a time” . This turned out to be a very frustrating day with the
wind either light and variable or non existent. Sails went up and down and
I put in four hours of motoring, which was halted at 16:00hrs when I
became fed up and unable to concentrate on the compass card any
longer. Besides that, all the sail changing had given me quite an appetite
so I went below and cooked myself another good dinner. After dinner
there was the slightest of breezes and whilst it was nothing to write home
about, it did mean that we could get under way once more. I turned in
early and had a surprisingly peaceful night, I only had to turn out three
times which just goes to show what an e ective watch I was keeping! My
'Ocean Going Perch’ managed to attract two more of our feathered
friends, both of whom had the run of the saloon that night as I was
sleeping forward for a change….The saloon oor was covered in
uninviting damp sails.

Sunday the 3rd and I was up at the crack of dawn, which was probably a
direct result of going to bed so early. My feathered friends moved o as
soon as I became active but I noticed that they did not venture very far
away, they uttered around for the rest of the day trying to perch in the
most unlikely of places to get some rest, I knew how they felt! This was
another of those frustrating days, not long after breakfast the wind died
away and so I motored for an hour and a half, then the wind came back
and we managed to sail for two hours before it completely failed. Down
came the sails, out came my reading material which at this stage was a
fantastic book called ‘The Kappillan of Malta’. My good friend and ex-
landlady in Plymouth had given me this and it was quite appropriate as I
was supposed to be heading for Malta at that time. Dinner was another of
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 my specials washed down by half a bottle of Sherry, I was surprised that
my vegetables were keeping so well but this was probably a combination
of the cold and the amount of time that I’d put in making sure that only
the best and the freshest came on board before sailing.

As darkness came on, the two Blue Tits, who had been hovering about
outside the hatch, got more and more bold in their approaches to the
saloon. One of them, which I named Fred, was much more emboldened
than the other, either that or he was much less caring and too fagged out
to worry about me. Anyway, they both came and sat inside and whilst
Fred closed hIs eyes and pretended that l wasn’t there his friend watched
me with great interest, getting very upset when ever I ventured in his
direction.

At 22:00hrs the wind arrived and so after six hours of being becalmed we
were o again under full sail. I was expecting that we would make a good
run through the night as the weather seemed to have got itself into a
pattern of blowing moderate and steady during the night and then dying
away to a at calm in the morning. Fred took no notice of my sudden
burst of activity but it was all too much for his friend who uttered o
protesting and (I like to think) went to nd himself a better and bigger
perch somewhere else.

Monday the 4th of June. It was necessary to be up every hour during the
morning as we were getting into an area much frequented by Spanish
shing vessels, however it was quite a good night and I did not actually
have to do very much besides poke my head up through the hatch to
have a look around. Whenever this is the case I don’t actually seem to
wake up, it’s just a waking continuation of my sleep and I hardly notice it
at all. It is only when physical work is required that I have to wake up the
rest of my body and drain away the energy that was storing up. During
some of my ventures to the hatch I noticed that Fred managed to open
one eye and squint at me with disdain, however he showed no sign of
moving so I guess he was happy. It turned out that I was right about the
good nights run and the wind did start to fail soon after breakfast as I had
forecasted, however as it was now abaft the beam again, I was able to
keep going by hoisting the Spinnaker but two hours later even that was
not enough, as it collapsed around the forestay I was forced to lower it.
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 We wallowed around for a while but time was not wasted as I had lunch,
cleaned up the boat and worked out a Meridian Passage of the sun which
I crossed with my morning position line to give me a noon position. Not
that the position was in much doubt as I had already got a good set of
stars that morning and we had not gone very far since then.

It was during lunch that I blasted poor old ‘Birdie Tweet Tweet’. Fred was
still perched in the saloon and had taken little notice of my morning
activities, in fact, apart from the droppings that seemed to be
accumulating around the La Coruna area of my chart, he seemed to be
pretty dead to the world about him. Unfortunately my cold was still
running well and whilst checking how the vegetables were fairing I had
the urge to sneeze, not being able to grab a tissue in time and not
wanting to sneeze all over my food I turned round and sneezed over poor
Fred. Obviously, being sneezed over ls quite a large insult for a Blue Tit
and although I hadn’t meant to o end, Fred took it to heart and vanished
through the hatch with a squeal of protest, never to be seen again. This I
found somewhat upsetting as I was just getting to like the little fellow,
besides which he had nally managed to get the range on La Coruna
which was about to become obliterated in a ‘white out’.

By the time I had got all the washing up done the wind appeared again
and it was not long before we were moving along in ne style with a full
Spinnaker and a fresh following breeze. Dinner came and went and we
were still zooming along however the wind was increasing and I had to
put some thought into how to get the ‘kite’ down in one piece. This
operation had before always been very simple, due to the fact that the
wind had always died on me soon after I had got the thing up, so it would
collapse onto the deck or thereabouts where I would just gather it in. The
situation was now very di erent and I was faced with almost three
hundred square feet of very boisterous sail which was threatening to get
out of control at any moment, I could delay no longer, it would have to
come down now in one piece or a thousand but down it would have to
come, or I was going to pull the mast out. I had devised a plan which I put
into operation, I surprised myself when I found that the whole show went
o without a hitch and took less than ve minutes from the time of going
forward to hoist the Genny to the time I was sitting safely on top of the
Spinnaker, which was now occupying most of the cockpit, after getting
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 my breath back I bagged it and stowed it away feeling very pleased with
myself. At 22:00hrs Sisargas Light showed up just where it was expected
to be and with Spain in plain sight, we went speeding into the night
goose-winged with Mainsail and Genoa but the wind was still on the up
and up so I secured the lockers aft in case of a broach and had a quick
look around the deck, making sure that all the various bits and pieces that
I might need were easily to hand incase any drastic action was called for.

According to the Met. O ce at Bracknell and the B.B.C., the wind was
expected to be force three to four in Finisterre area with force ve to six
o the Cape itself, as the forecasts had been continuously wrong up to
this time I don’t know why I relaxed, thinking that they would be correct
on this one. I expected the wind would be funnelled around the Cape but
with the forecast giving mention to this locality I presumed that they had
taken this factor into account which just goes to show that one should
not presume on anything when at sea.

The miles were now rolling by as ‘Mr John’ got into top gear, it was a very
clear night and I was able to pick up the shore lights at their maximum
range ( for my height of eye ), however it was also quite cold and there
were a lot of ships about, so I had to sit for a long time huddled in the
cockpit keeping a lookout. By midnight I judged that we were over-
pressed and the steering was somewhat erratic as we hurtled downwind.
Not wanting to strain anything I lowered the Genny and ran up the Jib
after which she felt a lot better but there was no great reduction in the
speed.

Tuesday the 5th of June. By 03:30hrs we were over-pressed once more

and sur ng wildly down the seas at over eight knots, so I dropped the
mainsail. Soon after, we were o Cabo Villano and still clocking up over
six and a half knots under the working jib alone. The wind continued to
increase and I began to wonder about the value of the forecast. As dawn
slowly arrived the wind went over force seven with no sign of it stopping
in its upward trend. The sea was getting bigger and we were again sur ng
down their grey and uninviting faces. It was cold, the spray that was
blown o the wave crests was cold and seeing as a good quantity of this
had gone down my neck during the long night, I was also cold. It was not
possible to run directly before the wind without booming out the jib and
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 with gusts over force eight I was closer to taking it down than I was to
lling it more, however by bringing the wind on the quarter and sheeting
in hard I was able to keep the sail full whilst spilling a lot of air and weight.
This allowed me to hang onto the sail longer where, under normal
conditions, I would have changed down to a smaller one. My main reason
for wanting to keep this sail up was that we were making such good
speed, I had managed to manoeuvre myself right into the tra c lanes and
so, with the wind on my starboard quarter we were pulling away to the
west, away from the land, the tra c, the confused coastal sea’s and
hopefully, the funnelling wind.

Unfortunately my plan was a dead loss, except for a slight reduction in

the volume of tra c there was little else that improved! At the same time
I’d succeeded in destroying any chance of running for shelter in
Corcubion, which lay just behind Cape Finisterre and was one of the
places I had the charts for, just in case a situation such as this arose. By
the time noon came along there was quite a threatening sea running and
the occasional foaming crest would climb aboard over the stern. I was
trying to snatch as much rest as possible as by this time I was quite worn
out having had no rest during the previous night, in the back of my mind I
knew that there were two things that I must always be ahead at if I wasn’t
going to run the risk of damaging the boat. One was that I should have
reduced the sail area before the wind picks up, not after. The other was
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that I should always be rested enough to be able to make good,
seamanlike decisions and have enough strength in reserve to carry
through any action resulting from one of those decisions.

The Self Steering gear was doing very well in holding a good steady
course but I was getting a little worried as to how long it would survive
the onslaught of the sea’s. Every now and then I would lose sight of the
most part of the gear and only the top part of the wind vane would show
through the tumbling white water as it came aboard. I recorded in the log
book that the vane was to get a special mention for service above and
beyond the call of duty.

The 13:55hrs Shipping forecast managed to elude me, however this was
no longer relevant as the wind had increased to a steady force eight by
this time and the way I looked at it, the situation couldn’t get much worse.
Not long after this I went forward to lower the Working Jib with the idea of
changing down to the Storm Jib, the method I use for getting down
foresails in ‘heavy going’ is nearly always the same, that is to sheet in
fairly hard and then lower away on the halyard with the sail full. This way,
one only has to worry about the middle of the sail as the rest tends to
look after itself. If I were to slack the sheets before lowering the sail in
anything but the lightest of breezes, it would og like mad and do all sorts
of damage. On this occasion I had to really heave to get the sail in and
the top few feet of it ogged around for a few minutes before I could bring
it under control, in those conditions just that small amount of sail ogging
for such a short period was enough to nearly pull the mast out of her.
Seeing the mast bending and shaking like it was gave me new life and I
positively leapt on the sail to bring it under control. Having lashed it up
with sail ties, I dragged it back to the cockpit and bagged it. Then, with
the neck of the bag tightly closed I lashed it to the bottom of the cockpit
with the Genoa, this was an e ective way of reducing the amount of
cockpit area that could be lled with water, thus increasing buoyancy aft.

After this was completed I had a look around and noted that the boat
seemed to be getting along ne without any sails set, In fact she was
doing well over four knots under bare-poles and the Self Steering was
keeping a fairly steady downwind course, so I abandoned the idea of
setting the Storm Jib and that joined the other sails lashed to the oor of
the cockpit, tucked under the mainsheet bridge.

I had good account of the wind force as part of my kit on-board was a
hand held anemometer, as issued to big ships by the German Met.O ce,
this had somehow fallen into my possession a few years previously when
a vessel on which I was serving was sold for scrap. That is why I can be
quite positive the wind was gusting to Force Nine for a whole hour before
darkness fell and I was lucky that although the seas were big, the wave
length was such that the boat rode them well, for the most part the stern
would lift in time to let the main body of water slide under whilst only the
foaming crest would climb aboard.

I spent most of this time just inside the hatch, occasionally peering out
through the crack in the washboards, but for the most part mopping up
the water that squirted in around the lower hatch board each time a crest
leapt into the cockpit. I was still very worried about the self-steering gear
and I had a look through the makers handbook to see if there was any
advice about what action should be taken with regards the gear in these
conditions. Of course, it told me nothing, so I had a quick ip through the
Yachtsman's Bible (Heavy Weather Sailing) and that also was completely
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lacking in information on the subject so, having come up with nothing
better, I left things as they were.

As the evening wore on the sea’s got longer and fewer crests were
coming on board, I was able to relax a little and make myself a good hot
meal. The wind also moderated slightly and shortly after 22:00hrs I was
logging only force seven to eight. Half an hour later I became aware that I
was not alone, a passenger ship, ablaze with bright lights, had
materialised as if from nowhere, so I called it up on the V.H.F.(radio) and
discovered that she was the ‘Canberra’. The O cer of the watch was
very helpful and gave me a position, he wished me luck whilst making it
quite clear that he wouldn’t fancy the idea of being in my position that
night. One thing that did throw me was that he was estimating the wind
force at one notation lower than me, however I put that down to under
estimation from him rather than over estimation by me as he was going
down wind in a fty thousand ton block of ats and I know from
experience that ships logs tend to read a bit low in that direction. Every
which way, anything over force seven is a ‘yachtsman's gale’ and we
certainly had a tough time for a while.

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By 23:00hrs the situation had

improved enough for me to hang out
my storm light, which was a good
thing as we were getting back into
the tra c lanes again.

Wednesday the 6th, we continued to

run o under bare-poles through the
night and early morning, I was up
and down like a yoyo due to the
tra c and the weather wasn’t
helping any. By 04:00hrs I logged
“ s i t u a t i o n n o t i m p ro v e d , s e a
becoming alarmingly high, prepared
myself to do battle with a bucket
should the need arise.” I estimated
the sea height as being over twenty
feet at the time but looking back I
suppose fourteen would have been
nearer the mark (having subtracted a
third for fright).

Each time the cockpit lled with water, it would squirt into the saloon
around the lower hatch board and run straight for the fuse box and
control switches, which had been located conveniently close. Fortunately
the hatch was made of a good strong piece of marine-pIy otherwise we
may have been in deeper trouble, hence the bucket. There is no doubt
that the best bilge pump on any yacht is a bucket in the hands of a
frightened man, not that I was frightened at that time but I guessed that
that situation would soon change should the hatch give way to the weight
of water that occasionally occupied the cockpit.

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 The sails which I had rammed under the mainsheet bridge in the cockpit
were doing a great job displacing water, however there were still times
when the stern lifted ‘ever so slowly’ to the oncoming waves. On a more
positive note I got the feeling that the weight of the water in the cockpit
was pushing the stern down and causing a drag e ect which was
improving the directional stability of the boat as she surged forward with
each tumbling wave.

By the time evening arrived there was a marked di erence in the weather
and I was sure that things would soon be much better, the wind started to
uctuate between force six and eight. Although the sea remained quite
large, the violence had gone out of it, so I turned in early setting the alarm
at two hour intervals as we were well away from the shipping lanes. The
boat had covered a lot of ground over the last thirty-six hours but it
seemed a good idea to crack on as soon as the weather permitted. I
believed that most of the bad weather we had experienced was due to
our nearness to Cape Finisterre and the sooner we were well away from
that area the better.

Thursday the 7th of June. I hoisted the Storm Jib at 01:00hrs and for want
of anything better to do, went back to bed. By the time breakfast was
over, the wind was down to force ve, so I replaced the Storm Jib with
the No.3 Genoa. Soon after that I was able to hoist the Mainsail and
noted in the Log-book.. “Sea going down but wind goes faster”. However,
we were still moving along and when it came to doing a battery charge
(running the engine), there was no point in going into gear as the speed
would not have been improved.

After lunch I fell into the old trap of hoisting the Spinnaker in a dying wind
and within an hour I was forced to take it down again before it got
wrapped around the forestay. As far as single-handing is concerned, a
Spinnaker in a dying wind is nothing but trouble and as I was to discover
later, twin foresails boomed out are a much better driving force and are
far easier to control, however at this stage I still had a lot to learn about
how to get the best out of ‘Mr John’! The rest of that day was spent
cleaning up both the boat and myself and then sitting around in the sun
shine whilst the boat drifted slowly along just managing to keep steerage
way.

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 Friday the 8th, I got some more undisturbed sleep from midnight
onwards, not really bothering much with what might have been going on
outside. Due to the lack of wind this sleep period managed to drag on till
09:15hrs, at which time I felt the need to do something so started playing
about with the sails.

10:00hrs… “Vessel now running under Jib and Genoa boomed as ‘twins’
which is quite an e ective rig and cuts out wear and tear”

11:00hrs… “Not quite going in the direction I’d like, but at least we are
going”.

12:00hrs.. “What a depressing days run (20 mlles)! If I’d been under this
rig last night I could have got another fteen miles.. we live and learn”.

I kept going under the twins rig all afternoon and on into the night, with
not too much sail tending to do there was plenty of time to get on with
some of the odd Jobs that needed attention about the boat. One little
problem that had arisen was that the tiller was starting to fall apart, it was
of laminate construction and with the change from soggy, wet, Wales to
the sunny seas o Cape St. Vincent, it had started to split along its many
seems however I treated it carefully with Linseed Oil and crossed my
ngers that it would hold together until I could get my hands on another
one.

Saturday the 9th of June at Mi A berth in the corner at Sheppard’s

Marina Gibraltar dnight. I logged “Advance clocks one hour to GMT plus
two hours”, this was a slight miscalculation on my part as we were now
on Spanish Time and that was an hour ahead of Portugal, which was
where I was headed, anyway having already advanced it seemed silly to
go back again, so l just left things as they were. 00:11hrs… “wind failed
completely, down all sails”. This is always a good time for the wind to fail
in my opinion as it gives me the excuse to hang out the light and turn in
for a good sleep. Normally I set my alarm for every two hours so as not to
miss any wind that might appear, however on this occasion the alarm was
somehow overlooked and it was 05:30hrs before I awoke suddenly to nd
that there was a nice little breeze blowing. It was a somewhat guilty
feeling skipper that scrambled out on deck to hoist the Mainsail and
Genoa.

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We had beautiful sailing weather for the rest of the day, it was a beam
reach all morning with a steady force three wind and that was su cient to
drive us along at an easy ve knots. I took two and a half gallons of fresh
water in a bucket onto the foredeck and had a good wash down before
digging out some warm weather clothing. This put me In a very good
frame of mind, good enough in fact to sit down and think up a likely E.T.A.
which was something I had carefully avoided thinking about until this
time.

11:00hrs… “Sighted Cabo de Sao Vicente right on the nose".

It’s always nice to make a good landfall, especially after a long passage,
navigation in small yachts, leaping about all over the place, can be
somewhat di cult at times (to say the least). Pin-Point accuracy is not
really possible but I would like to think that my e orts were not too far out
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 as I usually got Stars, at least once a day, and also worked a standard
noon position with a Meridian Passage and a mean of three position lines
run up or back as the case may be, depending on whether I got the sun in
the morning or afternoon.

Cape St. Vincent was a very special landmark for me, it was the end of
the southerly run and marked our turning point towards the
Mediterranean. The sign post that is most talked about by people coming
this way “Go south, then turn left at Cape St. Vincent”. Apart from all that,
it meant that I was only a days sail away from my next port of call and this
sent me into a frenzy of activity, cleaning up the cockpit, polishing the
binnacle and re-laying the carpets. Meanwhile the wind managed to reach
force four for a while and the miles passed by at a ne rate.

18:00hrs.. “Vessel passing to windward of Cape St.Vincent, three miles

o and romping along”.

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 At 19:30hrs, the wind still holding from the west, we went onto the twins
rig again and set a course east to follow along the coast of the Algarve, it
was a beautiful evening and I took my dinner in the cockpit with a bottle
of wine to wash it all down.

By the time the co ee and brandy were nished we were drifting lazily
down a silver highway to the moon. If the last night of every passage
were like that, I would nd it very di cult when it came to having to leave
the boat and take up such mundane things as work!

Sunday the 10th of June, shortly after midnight the wind died away
leaving us wallowing on a at calm sea so down came the sails and o to
sleep I went, assisted by the e ects of the wine of course. I crawled out
to have a look around at 05:00hrs but nothing had changed so I went
back to bed again until 07:30hrs when my stomach indicated that
breakfast would be a good idea.

After Breakfast there was still no wind so I dld a few calculations and
decided that it would be possible to motor the rest of the way to
Vilamoura. I would have preferred to sail the last few miles with ags
uttering in the breeze and Spinnaker straining right into the marina,
making a grand nish, but seeing as the wind was not going to permit this
I would have to make do with a second class entrance creeping in under
power. Upon re ection, was probably just as well! There was three and
a'half hours motoring and it was marvellous weather except for the lack
of wind.

I started the motor and having stowed the sails neatly, we moved inshore
and along the coast checking out the beautiful bays and the little shing
villages, all packed with bright white houses that sparkled in the morning
sunlight. Some of the shermen were dragging their boats down the
beach to the sea, using wooden rollers and sleepers in much the same
way as they had been doing for hundreds of years.

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 The beaches near Vilamoura were mostly empty……..

The sun beat down, the sea was blue and the land looked colourful and
inviting, there seemed to be miles of sandy beaches and, apart from the
sherfolk, there were very few people in sight, so by the time Vilamoura
came into view I was very much looking forward to getting ashore.

As we neared the breakwaters I dived below to make myself presentable,

I’m a great believer in being well dressed when one is going to deal with
any sort of o cialdom so by the time I was ready I must have looked like
a walking advertisement for ‘what to wear a oat’, however this approach
has never let me down yet and I have met up with some very o cious
o cials.

11:45hrs Sunday the 10th June… “Berthed port side to at Customs Quay
in Marina Vilamoura, Portugal”.

As I brushed up against the pontoon a ‘Marinheiro’ sprang out from

nowhere to take my lines, we made fast and I cut the engine before going
below to get the documentation ready. I was rather surprised that there
was no intention by the customs to board us for a look around, instead it
was a case of just wandering ashore to register. Of course, most of the
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place was closed with it being a Sunday but the Marina o cials were
most helpful and I was whisked from one o ce to another signing this
paper and that until nally a berth number was allocated. It seemed that
the Customs people in the Marina were very aware of their paper work
problem and had devised a system to make it as painless as possible all
round, which was a refreshingly di erent attitude from what I was used to,
when I was working, out in the Arabian Gulf.

There was however, a moments hesitation when it came to light that I had
no registration certi cate. I had expected to nd it waiting for me on
arrival, but having arrived on a Sunday, the Marina o ce was closed and
my mail was locked inside. When I explained the situation there were big
smiles all round and a few remarks about prison (I think they were joking),
however they all agreed it would be best to complete that part of the
formalities the next day.

12:15hrs… “Completed Customs clearance”

12:20hrs… “Moved to marina berth”

12:30hrs… “Secured alongside in berth”.

I went to work immediately as I had no intention of hanging around. By

13:30hrs I had completed a mast inspection having hoisted myself up top
to check out the works. There were no defects with the mast or its ttings
but there was some work to be done with the halyards, which needed
reorganising at the outlet sheaves in the mast-step. After that there was
the washing to do and then I went ashore to the shops to get a few more
stores, the chandlery at the Marina was a disappointment as I had more
spare gear on the boat than there was in the shop, however the rest of
the place was very nice and the food in the local store was both good
quality and cheap.

That evening was spent over another slap-up meal and a bottle of wine,
probably a little too much wine. I slept like a log that night but still
managed to wake for 0600hrs, at which time I leapt nimbly onto the quay
and took a cold shower from a handy hose-pipe. This put a little life back
into me, but I was not feeling too good, there was a small man with a big
sledge-hammer trying to knock a hole in the back of my head.

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12:00hrs, Monday the 11th of June.. “Prepared the vessel for sea”, which
means that l checked all the gear making sure everything was in order
and liberally doused every moving part with WD4O. Fuel, oil and water
levels were checked and re-checked.

At 13:00hrs the motor burst into life at the rst touch of the starter and at
13:10hrs we departed from the berth and went over to the Customs Quay
to go through the departure procedure (and complete the arrival
procedure). My arrival alongside just happened to coincide with lunch, so
there was some delay before I could start on getting my clearance.
Everyone was very apologetic when they returned from lunch and some
of them actually managed to look hurt that I was leaving after such a
short time.

The pubIlc relations o cer turned out to meet and greet me and my mail
was produced with the Registration Document from the R.Y.A.. I was
altogether very pleased with the way things went, the fact that the public
relations o cer was female, attractive and around my age might well
have had something to do with this general feeling of satisfaction..... I
wonder??.

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 It had been my intention to go to Malta to lay up the boat before returning
to work but I had heard a few worrying stories coming out of Malta in the
weeks before leaving. At rst I found them hard to believe as I had
worked with a lot of Maltese people and had come to like them and their
island very much. However, when I heard that Ghada had been given a
big welcome there and even given the loan of the old British air base I
had to believe that the leopard had changed its spots. Now I had to have
a re-think of the situation for I needed to have a safe berth lined up for at
least the next two years, which was the minimum time I expected to be
based in the Mediterranean area. The trouble with Vilamoura was that it is
not in the Med. and there was always going to be a sea passage before
one could actually get anywhere. On the other hand the berthing package
on o er was very good value for money and on top of all that, I liked the
place!. Anyway, I left armed with all the details so as I could work through
the nancial side of things before committing myself to any decision.

1600hrs.. “Hoisted Mainsail and Jib and departed from the Customs
Quay under sail”.

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I thought l’d better show them how it was done and shot o like a rocket,
which was all very well but it did give some of the local shermen a shock
as they were manouverlng their boats, just inside the breakwaters, when
‘Mr John’ came ploughing along with her lee rail in the water and going
like a train. Anyway, we got clear without doing any damage and l soon
had to reduce sail as there was a good force six blowing outside. As this
was abaft the beam when we settled down on course, I decided to drop
the mainsail and continue under the No. 1 Jib alone until the weather
calmed down a little .

Tuesday the 12th of June.. It was another beautiful night and the wind
stayed fresh throughout so that we had put sixty ve miles on the log by
04:00hrs, at which time the wind had eased enough to bring the vessel
onto the Twin’s Rig. At 06:30hrs I had a very good set of stars to give me
a position by stellar observation, this con rmed that we had averaged
about ve and a half knots since departure, and on a twenty four foot
waterline … thats not bad!.

Soon after Breakfast I sighted another yacht, converging and also

heading towards the Straits of Gibraltar, she was a much larger boat but
for two hours her bearing did not change as she frolicked about under
mainsail and Jib, with neither of these sails lling properly. After some
time, I noticed a sudden burst of activity, whether they only just noticed
me or perhaps suddenly realised that they were nearly twice my length, I
don’t know, but sails went up, down and up again before she started to
move ahead under Spinnaker. Nothing like a bit of company to bring out
the competitive spirit!

By 18:00hrs we had closed with the land on the northern side of the Strait
and the wind had died away to about force two but there was no great
rush so we continued our leisurely progress. The tidal e ects in the Straits
are quite strong and can cause quite some surface disturbance, we were
unfortunately caught in one of these disturbances for a short time and for
a moment I was somewhat alarmed. A short steep sea with no other
direction than up and down appeared as if from nowhere around the boat,
whilst only fty yards away it remained at calm, after a few moments of
being thrown around in this I started the engine and slowly motored clear.
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The next thing was the Down-Drafting, but I was expecting this and had
dropped the jib at the rst sign of the wind increasing, which it did rapidly,
to force six at times, as we entered deeper into the funnel which is the
Straits of Gibraltar. We made good progress but it was 22:30hrs when we
entered into Gibraltar Bay and not wanting to throw away the very good
time that I had been making so far, I decided to carry on without
stopping. The wind in the region of the Rock was from all over the place
so I motored for another twenty minutes to get clear. No sooner than we
were clear than the wind came up strong from the west, so there were sail
changes, one after another, right through into the early hours of the next
morning.

Wednesday the 13th, with a steady force ve blowing throughout the

morning we moved along quickly, dancing across the wave tops under
just the Heavy Weather Genoa. With the heavy tra c that passes through
the Straits there was no chance of any rest until we got well away, so I let
her run o to the northeast and by mid-morning we were standing o
Torremolinos. By working along the coast to the east I hoped to avoid
most of the shipping, but I knew that l was in more danger of meeting up
with a shing eet, as there are many of these operating in this area. At
midday I noted in the log that we were tending to broach more often and
the boat was decidedly over-pressed so I lowered the Genoa and hoisted
the No.1 Jib in its place.

The wind clocked up a fairly steady force six throughout the afternoon
and ‘Mr John’ loved it, there was a little spray that came on board from
the white crests that rolled up from astern, it was really thrilling sailing and
I recorded for 15:00hrs… “Southwesterly force six, still skipping along
over a deep blue sea alive with white horses…..Beautiful!!”

Thursday the 14th of June, the wind died around midnight and went very
light and variable. The self-steering was not able to cope in these
conditions, so there were a few frustrating hours whilst we sailed around
in circles before I nally got fed up, dropped all sail and turned in for a
few hours. Somehow I had let myself wander well o the coast and so,
when a breeze appeared at 07:00hrs, it was put to use in getting us back
towards the land. Unfortunately the breeze did not hold, so the engine
was used for an hour and a half. It was during this time that I had my rst
bad experience with the engine, we were motoring along nicely at
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cruising speed when all of a sudden the engine rev’s started to increase, I
throttled back but to no avail. Soon the motor was going at full belt and
‘Mr John’ was doing over seven knots, leaving the tiller I rushed inside
and removed the engine casing in double quick time, meanwhile the boat
had started to steam round in ever decreasing circles and I wondered
where it was all going to end.

The throttle control cable had come loose, so I tightened it up and slowed
the motor for a few moments before stopping it all together, by this time
we had completed three and a half circles. Anyone observing all this from
one of the passing ships (and there were a few) would have thought I’d
gone bananas. I readjusted and reset everything before sitting back to
take a few deep breaths and contemplate what could have happened had
the throttle cable come adrift whilst manouverlng in a crowded Marina.

Around noon the wind appeared so up went the Mainsail and Genoa
followed shortly after by the Spinnaker, not long after this I sighted Cabo
de Gata and it became obvious that a Spinnaker Gybe was called for.
Everything went wrong and the Spinnaker was getting wrapped around
the Forestay whilst I was ghting a major battle with the Spinnaker Pole.
In the end I had to lower everything to the deck to sort out the mess,
reposition the sheets and the pole before I could undo the knot that I had
managed to get in the sail. In the middle of this chaos my attention got
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tangled round the forestay. Anyway, when I looked around for the
Spinnaker, it wasn’t there! Instead it was about two hundred yards astern
and getting further away all the time as we sailed on under just the
Mainsail, I rushed aft and went about in double quick time, luckily there
was enough air trapped in the sail to keep it a oat until we had sailed
back and I was able to pull the whole soggy mess into the cockpit where I
left it to dry out. It just wasn’t my day!

Friday the 15th of June, early morning found us going to windward in a

northeasterly breeze, working up the coast between Cabo de Gata and
Cartagena. There was no chance to get any real peace for sleeping due
to there being all sorts of shing gear laying o shore. There were long
lines of buoys with nets below them and individual buoys, some with
ags and some without, most of it seemed to be right where I wanted to
sail. This was our rst shot at going hard to windward in decent
conditions and it turned out to be a big disappointment as we were not
getting anything like the tacking angle that we should have. The rigging
was obviously in need of re-adjustment and I was missing the Backstay
Tensioner, which could have done a lot to improve the condition of the
Mainsail Leech, as a temporary solution I put two rolls in the Mainsail and
this gave a slightly better performance. As the day progressed the wind
came round to the east and we were more able to lay the line for
Cartagena, it was very good sailing weather with a steady breeze
throughout the day. Just before noon I had a very close brush with a
shing vessel, having looked around to make sure alI was clear, I had
gone below to write up the log book. I’m still not sure if I miscalculated or
whether I just failed to see it and stayed below too long. Anyway, l had a
sudden feeling that we were not alone and so popped my head out of the
hatch for a look around, sure enough there was a shing boat, just about
stopped, right in front of my bow and only fteen feet away. I stepped into
the cockpit, unclipped the self-steering and put the helm over all in the
same swift movement, we came about easily and as I settled her on the
new tack, I gave a casual wave and shouted a greeting to the men on the
shing boat. The disturbing thing was that they were lining their vessels
rail and had been quite content to watch my approach without taking any
avoiding action, or even raising a voice in protest, and it must have been
quite clear to them that there was no one in the cockpit.

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 At rst I just thought that this was a little odd but the more I thought
about it the more convinced I became that the whole event had been
premeditated on his behalf. I later asked other yachtsmen about this, just
to see whether the same situation had ever occurred to others. I was
surprised to hear that this was a common occurrence!

Apparently the dream of every small shing boat owner on the Spanish
Coast is for a yacht to run into him! If I had hit him, I would have been
made responsible for all damages, loss of earnings for the entire crew,
slipping, repainting and god alone knows what else, whilst our shermen
friends would be sitting in the local taverna getting well sloshed and
toasting my misfortune. Lesson one: Beware of Spanish Fishing Vessels.

With my poor tacking angle I was unable to lay Cape Tinoso under sail
alone so I got the motor going and had a try at motor sailing, at this time I
made two great discoveries (which also showed how inexperienced I was
with the boat). One was that as a motor-sailer, she had an excellent
windward performance and the tacking angle was reduced to about
thirty- ve degrees, the other was that the self-steering vane could cope
quite well, so long as there was enough wind and it remained steady. If I
had been aware of these points earlier, we would probably have been
able to make a much faster crossing of the Biscay on the way out. That’s
the way it goes, every day I learn a little more.

20:00hrs.. “Down sails, vessel approaching Cartagena breakwaters”.

As this was to be my rst Spanish port I thought it would be a good idea

to go through all the usual motions with ags and the like. I even called
the Port Control on the V.H.F. to let the Customs know that a yacht was
arriving from foreign. I could have saved myself the e ort, for when I got
alongside there were no Customs or anything like that, only the
Policeman from the top of the quay, who came along for his seventy- ve
pesetas, which he didn’t get because I had no Spanish money until the
banks opened the next day. As soon as everything was squared away I
went for a walk up to the town and dld some window shopping before
returning on board for a late meal and bed.

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 Saturday the 16th of June….It was a good nights sleep, all except for one
mosquito that is! I was up and about at 07:20hrs and the rst thing I did
was to promise to get myself a tin of y-spray, after which I had a good
breakfast before starting on the rigging which was in need of something,
although I wasn’t to certain what. The mast had been opping about quite
a bit on the last windward leg up the coast (‘pumping’ as we bounced
into and over the waves), so I tightened up all round, in particular the
inner forestay which seemed to be the cause of most of the trouble. After
this I had a look at the fuel tank, there was no means of knowing how
much was in the tank so some modi cation was called for.

I went ashore later in the morning armed with a list of stores required,
which ranged from fresh vegetables to plastic hose-pipe (for the fuel tank
modi catlon).

I like Cartagena very much, to my way of thinking it has everything that a

Port should have and at ‘none tourist’ prices. Some time had passed
since my last visit and there had been quite a few changes, especially
around the waterfront, trying to give the place a cleaner image for the
tourist industry. I doubted that this ploy would work as there are no
beaches, the harbour is dirty and it’s the main Spanish Naval Port on this
coast. None of these things is likely to promote tourism. I guess that a
seaman will always feel at home in a seaman’s port. Maybe that’s how it
is with me and Cartagena, because I haven’t met many other yachtsmen
with anything nice to say about it.

Having completed all my business ashore I headed back to the boat,

there was quite some wind blowing by this time and the clouds were
scampering across the sky at a great rate of knots. I felt sorry for the two
other boats that had shared the sh-dock with me the previous night,
they had both left early in the morning when it had still been calm,
expecting easy passages to their respective ports. It was by this time
howling through the rigging and I bet they wished they were back here,
shy smells or not! There was a group of shermen mending nets on the
quay so I went across and asked them about the weather in my best
broken Spanish, from the replies it seemed that the dreaded ‘Levanter’
was blowing and this was the best excuse available to hang around a bar
drinking ‘El Vino de Plonko’. Departure was therefore delayed eight hours
which gave me chance to go ashore again and have a couple of hours
siesta when I got back.

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18:00hrs.. “Changed from No.1 to No.2 Mainsail and made ready the
No.1 Jib”.

It was still blowing but things looked like they were improving, either I
would have to sail whilst there was still light or put the whole thing o
until the morrow. It seemed like a good idea to at least take a look
outside, for whilst the wind stayed in the northeast I could always nd
some shelter under the coast. At 20:00hrs I steamed out into the outer
basin where I went about hoisting sail, there was little wind here and we
must have looked odd trying to sail out of the harbour with sails set for
force six on the nose! As we cleared the breakwaters I dropped the Jib
and hoisted the heavy weather Genoa which brought some improvement,
as we cleared the land the wind came up and we took o to windward,
thrashing hard, on the port tack

The immediate e ect of this thrash to windward was to shake up the

rigging again, we had to go about for a short while in order to make some
further adjustments to the upper shrouds, after which, we were able to
continue as before. There was a squeak coming from up the mast that I
couldn’t quite identify but it seemed like a good idea to go carefully, so
accordingly I lowered the Genoa and hoisted the No.1 Jib. This felt better
but still didn’t stop the squeak!.

Sunday the 17th of June, we spent most of the morning bouncing around
in a fairly steady force six, there was some pounding at rst and I had to
move some weight aft to get the bow up so that she’d go over more
waves than through them, all in all however, she was getting along quite
well. After breakfast I was able to free the sheets slightly as the wind was
coming round to the east, more in my favour. Life became more
comfortable for a while but as the morning wore on the wind began to fail
and ‘Mr John’ was having to cope with a confused and choppy sea with
little wind to hold us steady. The sails apped around and we were not
able to make much progress on the course required, which was a broad-
reach. To stop this crashing about I brought her up onto a close-reach,
increasing the relative wind. Although this meant going o course, we
were at least making some progress and keeping the sails lled. By mid
afternoon Alicante was directly down wind, so we went to the twins rig for
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an hour before the wind died completely and left us drifting on a calm
sea.

17:00hrs.. “Started motor, down all sails, vessel- proceeds under power”.

18:30hrs.. “Stopped motor, vessel secured in Alicante harbour”.

It felt strange to be stepping ashore here o my own boat, I had waited a

long time for this and we were actually two years late on arrival, but I
suppose it’s better late than never!. Several years previously I’d bought a
small villa here for my Mum, it was also a place where I could keep some
of my personal e ects. It wasn’t home for me as my life was now rmly
on the ocean, whether working or not. However it was ‘the family home’
as such and I was glad to be here and able to visit. Its always good to be
back with family.

After a walk ashore to stretch the legs and sink a cold beer I returned on
board to do a few odd jobs, which included changing the mainsail and
repairing the main hatch (again!). I soon got fed up of working as my work
seemed to be the ‘main event’ in Alicante that evening, I was ‘Med.
Moored’ with my stern to the main Passeo and there was an army of
people gathered on the quay, staring down into the cockpit, watching my
every move. It was most o -putting! I made a mental note that in the
future I would ‘Med. Moor’ with my anchor over the stern and my bow to
the dock thus a ording more privacy both in the cockpit and inside the
boat. With little else to do, I had dinner and turned in as I wanted an early
start in the morning.

Monday the 18th of June, I closed up the boat at 06:00hrs and with two
large bags of unwanted gear, mostly oilskins, heavy sea-boots and
clothes, wandered across to the Bus Station and picked up the rst bus
to Benisa, which was about fty miles up the coast. It was the Breakfast
hour when I arrived, so there was a delay whilst the Taxi service changed
shift and prepared to ght another day. When the rst semi-vacant Taxi
appeared - never vacant because they alway have at least two other jobs
on hand at any one moment - I managed to persuade the driver to take
me down to Moraira.

My mother was surprised to see me, for she had not at that time received
the telegrams I had sent from Cartagena two days previous, which says
something for the e ciency of the Spanish Postal Service. We had a lot
to talk about and as usual there was a lot to do and very little time to do
it, so for a short while I dashed around doing this that and the other.

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I decided it would be a nice holiday for my mum if she were to come and
sail with me for a while, I planned to move up the coast and if the weather
was right, there was a chance we could get to Ibiza. My mum had done
some sailing as my parents had a boat in the 50’s and started me o at
the age of ve.

With this in mind we put the dog in Kennels, took a taxi to Benisa and
caught the bus back to Alicante and the boat. It was 18:00hrs before we
were aboard so after a quick tidy up we went ashore for a meal and a few
drinks. Somehow or other I managed to get talking to the owner of a
fantastic yacht moored alongside and he invited us over for a drink and to
see his boat. Sebastian, the owner, was one of those cool, relaxed and
easy going guys who would never have to make a show of the fact that
he had both money and brains. He also had an encyclopaedic knowledge
of the Western Mediterranean, which we taxed heavily during the evening,
discussing all the best places to see up and down the coast. He and his
charming wife introduced us to another couple from a Swedish Yacht
which was also intending to head for Ibiza the next day. We all agreed
that there was a good chance that we would likely bump into one another
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again, very likely in fact, as the Mediterranean circuit is not all that big
when you actually get stuck into it.

I often have felt privileged that sailing small boats has introduced me to
some fantastic people who I would never otherwise have met. A oat we
are all one community, all united in our intentions to get across the next
stretch of ocean and to enjoy the experience.

Tuesday the 19th, we were up and ready to shop at 08:00hrs, splitting up

with individual lists of requirements for stores and equipment needed
before departure. I was having a particularly tough time of it….. If you
can’t get a chart of Alicante in Alicante, where do you have to go to get
one? Para n was another problem, this can be di cult to get anywhere
in the Mediterranean and in Alicante it was impossible.

We both returned for co ee on board, each having many things missing

from our shopping lists. Sebastian and his wife were invited over to see
‘Mr John’ and from what I could gather we would not be expecting to see
them in a smaller boat any day soon!

Whatever, I stick rmly to the belief that anyone buying a boat should buy
the smallest one they can possibly manage with. When it comes to boats,
big is not always beautiful. Big boat equals big problems, big budget, big
crew, big responsibility and less enjoyment.

We all said our good-bye’s and whilst Mum stowed our gear below, I
prepared the boat for sea.

13:00hrs.. “Started motor and departed berth”.

13:30hrs.. “Clear of breakwaters, stopped motor, hoisted Mainsail and

Genoa.

It was beautiful sailing weather and we were quickly reeling o the miles
on a broad-reach, only then, when I was able to see what was going on,
did I actually commit us to going on to Ibiza. Previously it had been
referred to as ‘might’ and ‘maybe’, which I always think is the best way to
start any cruise as it leaves all the options open. The wind stayed with us
and ‘Mr John” made good progress throughout the rest of that day and
into the next morning. Mum soon settled down to watch-keeping and it
was nice for me to be able to turn in without having to set the alarm.

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Wednesday the 20th of June, 05:00hrs…. “Sighted Cape Berberia light on
the southern end of Formentera Island”.

I was rather glad about the sighting which was exactly as I had predicted,
this sort of thing at the beginning of a cruise always gives con dence all
round, not that Mum was doubting my ability, but she might have if we
had missed the island and had to go looking for it!

By 08:00hrs we were under the cli s of Cape Rotja and the wind began to
fail, so I started the engine and we motored round the corner into Es Calo
bay, where we came to anchor at 10:00hrs having made 5.14 knots for
the passage from Alicante. It was a beautiful morning, the water was clear
and the bottom was clean white sand. I dropped over the side for a swim
whilst Mum rustled up some breakfast, there was some oil around the
waterline but this soon came o when I rubbed at it with a little soap (a
leftover from Cartagena?). The rest of the hull was as clean as a whistle
and I was very pleased by the way that the anti-foul was bearing up.

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 Just before noon we heaved up the anchor and proceeded north towards
lbiza City and its welcoming harbour, it was a nice Spinnaker run all the
way up and we made good time. Apart from receiving a right crack on the
head from a sudden Gybe the trip was uneventful, it might have been
helpful if we’d had a chart of the place but that was one of the things I
had not been able to get in Alicante. Fortunately the entrance presented
no di culties and after one slow circuit of the harbour, whilst I weighed
up the situation, we charged into a vacant slot along the harbour wall and
made a perfect Med-Moor with the kedge anchor out astern.

The rest of that day was spent walking around the old town and viewing
the many Boutiques (hundreds of them), which for the most part seemed
to be deserted, I was a little surprised at this as it was mid June and l was
expecting to nd the place crowded out with English Tourists. There was
no shortage of restaurants but I was not very impressed, in fact I thought
Ibiza City was a bit of a dump with little character and a pervading smell
of open sewer, which encouraged us to return on board to dine.
Fortunately there is no better cook than Mum, so we had a superb meal
washed down with a great wine in our own waterfront restaurant!

Thursday 21st. June.. We went shopping in the morning and I was able to
secure a chart of the island and a couple of useful Road Maps that
showed clearly all the best bays and beaches. We also invested in loads
of postcards as I’m one of the great postcard navigators, which means
that I’ll have a go at anything so long as I have an ‘Arial View’ type
postcard of it. When ever I arrive in a new cruising area I buy a local map
and all the postcards that look interesting, particularly interesting bays
and anchorages. Then I number the cards and put the number on the
map to show the location. Working on the theory that if there is anything
good on o er there will be a postcard of it…..and it seems to work as we
don’t miss too much! Postcards can make really good harbour pilots and
along with a current road map they are usually much more up to date
than what the Admiralty has on o er. It’s basically ‘cruising by numbers’.

I spent an hour and a half on a fruitless search for Para n, although I

knew it must be somewhere as there were still parts of the island that did
not yet have electricity. After lunch we departed and headed north up the
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 coast, sailing in variable light airs. We remained close inshore as the
coastline was very picturesque. For the most part it was a beam-reach in
force two and I was pleased to see that we were the only boat around
making any speed under sail.

As we rounded the northern end of the island I spotted a nice big fender
oating by, so we went to action stations and I brought her round to make
a pick-up. Unfortunately the fender turned out to be attached to some
shing gear so the operation was a op, still it was a nice fender and you
never know when fortune is going to smile on you.

The wind came up for a while as we passed around Pta. Grosa but this
was just a local e ect and by 17:00hrs it had left us, so I got the engine
going and motored the remaining three miles into Cala Portinatx where
we dropped anchor in a beautiful, sheltered bay with two fathoms under
the keel.

There wasn’t much ashore here but it was possible to get fresh provisions
at the local supermarket, I continued my search for para n as our supply
was getting very low. If we ran out there was always the electric lighting
but I preferred not to use that, except for starting the engine and for the
masthead light when proceeding under power, or when approached by
another vessel whilst under sail. I was making enquiries ashore when I
was fortunate enough to meet an English villa owner who kindly
volunteered to let me have some of the supply that he kept at his home. I
let him have my containers and arranged to meet on the beach the next
morning.

That evening was about as pleasant as one could wish for, sitting in the
cockpit after dinner, a nice cigar and a good brandy. What more could a
man ask? (remembering that I had my mother with me! ).

Friday the 22nd. of June. After a calm and peaceful night we awoke
refreshed and ready to go, I popped ashore to meet my friend with the
para n….. I never did nd out his name but he was a gentleman and a
scholar of the highest order. At 09:30hrs we heaved anchor and
proceeded under power, now heading south down the west coast of
Ibiza.

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 Our next stop was Port de San Miguel and at 10:30hrs we came to
anchor in its sheltered bay.

This was once a beautiful anchorage but unfortunately someone else had
the same idea and built a hotel complex at the top end of the bay, which
rather ruins the place. Actually the part of the bay that is most suitable as
an anchorage is quite far removed from the hotel area and I should
imagine it’s fairly peaceful during the late evening and through the night,
however, during the day all the tourists jump on their paddle-boats and
oat across to see the yachts. Being a British boat in a British tourist area
everyone comes over to ask how we got here, which is alright at rst but
gets wearing after a while, however I su er it with a smile as most of the
people asking are young, female and topless!

We only stayed in San Miguel for a couple of hours then heaved up and
moved o down the coast, The next two and a half hours were spent
trying to sail but getting nowhere, in the end I gave up, started the motor
and moved o in almost at calm conditions. It was a very hot day and
almost unbearable down below, it would have been a little better if we’d
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had the extractor fan working but I’d been unable to replace the burnt out
unit. I maintained low speed and tried not to overwork the engine whilst
keeping all the hatches open, it was the best we could do.

Our next stop was Cala Grassio, which looked very promising on the
postcard I’d bought. It was hardly shown at all on the chart, so when we
had identi ed the correct opening in the rocks I went in very slowly with
Mum up forward keeping a lookout for anything nasty. I should mention
here that the echo-sounder, for measuring the depth of water under the
keel, had packed up shortly after leaving Vilamoura but seeing as it is
always possible to see the bottom before hitting it around this part of the
world, I had taken little interest in xing it. These devices more often than
not lead to ulcers where they are not due!

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 There is not much room for a yacht in this bay especially one drawing
over ve and a half feet, however we came to anchor without too much
di culty, the only problem being all the people swimming around in the
water. With more wind it would have been foolish to get into the spot that
we now occupied but as I only expected to stay for a few hours it was
perfect. One thing was for sure, we were guaranteed sole occupancy,
with us in the middle of the bay there was no room for anyone else.

When we had squared up on board I went over the side to see what the
depth was like, I found it to be quite shallow, there was hardly room to get
a scrubbing brush between the keel and the sand. I had planned to
remove a few barnacles from the bottom of the keel but had to postpone
that job for fear of getting my ngers trapped as the boat gently rose and
fell in the slight swell, kissing the sand each time.

We both swam ashore and had a couple of drinks at one of the beach
bars whilst watching all the swimmers splashing round our boat.

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 I shall never forget that moment of pleasure, sitting on the that beach
looking at ‘Mr John’ over the top of an ice cold beer in this idyllic
Mediterranean setting, it was what I’d come all this way for and just
seeing her there made it all worth while.

Returning on board I decided to tackle one of my outstanding jobs, the

tting of a measuring device to the fuel tank. Taking the job in hand I
inserted a ‘T’ join in the supply pipe to the engine (which came from the
bottom of the fuel tank) and from this ran a clear plastic pipe up to join
the over ow pipe. Where it ran upwards alongside the tank, the fuel
would nd the same level as inside and I would be able to see it and, over
time, calibrate it. Once I knew how much was in the tank I’d be able to
cut down on the amount we were carrying around and just take the
minimum required for the trip plus a safety margin. That was ‘Big Ship
Thinking’ and it worked ne on big ships, however I was to discover that
on a small yacht, supply is never guaranteed and in the end it’s best to ll
the tank when ever possible. Having some measurement of the tank was
still going to be very helpful .

Whilst engaged with the tank, the boat started to swing on her anchor
and was slowly getting closer to the rocks. This was a very small Cala
with very little room to swing, if I were to return I’d lay out a stern anchor
or take a line ashore. I heaved up to the shortest scope possible and went
back to work at a quicker pace, Mum was getting concerned but having
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 wedged myself into the cramped stern locker I didn’t want to extricate
myself without completing the job. Apart from that, with the fuel line all
opened up we were not going anywhere under power, I wasn’t too
concerned as the keel would touch the sand before the boat contacted
the rocks and if we did touch the sand it would be no problem to get her
o in these at calm conditions.

At 18:45hrs I started the engine and heaved up the anchor, it was only a
short distance to San Antonio so we towed the dinghy, normally I’d
always stow it on board so that we are ready for any eventuality. As we
approached the breakwater it was possible to see all the masts of the
yachts moored on the other side and there, sure enough, was the big
orange radar re ector which I had last seen hanging in Sebastian’s rigging
back in Alicante.

This was going to be a very straight forward berth for a Mediterranean

Moor, so with everything prepared in advance we swept around the
breakwater and along the line of moored boats until a free berth came
into view. There was a fairly large French Yacht standing o , doing
something with his anchors. I presumed that he was leaving and so
without further thought on the matter, passed close around his stern
whilst letting go my anchor and steaming directly into the berth. The
whole operation took less than ve minutes and we were secure, with the
engine stopped and me standing on the quay chatting to some of the
locals. That was when someone pointed to the French Yacht and
mentioned that whilst he had been messing about with his anchors we
had pinched the berth that he was hoping to reverse into. Now, with his
anchor gear sorted out but with the last remaining berth taken, he was
proceeding out to the anchorage to sling his hook there for the night……
Whoops - sorry!

We went ashore for a walk as soon as everything had been squared away,
San Antonio seemed to be much cleaner than Ibiza City and I was
inclined to agree with the opinions other yachtsmen had expressed to me
already, this was the better of the two ports. It was possible to get just
about everything that was needed in way of stores (at tourist prices of
course), we even chanced a meal ashore and were well satis ed at quite
a modest price.

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That evening we had Sebastian and his wife round for a drink and a chat,
I like to think that ‘Mr John’ can match any other boat in cosy hospitality
on board.

The reason I think this, is because we have never had any guests on
board yet that have not remained until the we small hours of the next
morning! Conversation owed and we covered all sorts of subjects from
navigation to engine maintenance, its always good to hear how someone
else sorts out their boat problems and we all have some great stories
about our more glorious failures. I was thinking how nice it would be to
meet up with them again, maybe next year. I was envious that they would
spend the intervening time cruising as they were of an age where they no
longer had to go to work. They would be covering a lot of interesting
ports and many beautiful anchorages whilst I would be covering thirty
thousand miles of not much but ocean …….

However, that’s another story.

Saturday the 23rd of June, as usual it was a rush-rush morning getting

the stores from ashore, also water which had to be carried a fair distance
due to the water points on the breakwater being under lock and key and
the holder of the key not being readily available.

10:15hrs.. “Started engine and commenced letting go”.

10:24hrs.. “Clear of Harbour”.

We were o again, moving south down western side of the island. There
was little wind so we continued under power, it was another beautiful day
and all tourist launches were out in force ferrying holiday makers up and
down the coast to the more secluded beaches, so we just ambled along,
taking in the scenery, whilst all this activity went on around us. There was
a group of Islands to the south and I wanted to pass inside them,
however the Spanish Chart that I had purchased in Ibiza was not very
helpful here, in fact, generally speaking, it was about the most unhelpful
chart I’d ever had to use! Anyway, I guessed that we could nd a way
through if we went about it carefully. It turned out to be our lucky morning
because as we got closer another sailing vessel appeared, coming the
other way, she was much bigger than us so once they were passed we
moved over and sailed down her wake.

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 At 11:l5hrs we passed between Isla Conejera and Isle Bosque, the
bottom looked very close at times and for safety I throttled back to
quarter speed. We were soon through and back into deep water again, so
I hoisted the Mainsail and Genoa before stopping the engine and
proceeding in a nice light breeze that had sprung up from the west. There
was a little motor-sailing a while later, as we passed inside Isla Yedranell
and the wind went ukey, after which we had a lovely beam reach across
to Isla Espalmador. With a bit of crafty sailing we managed to go straight
to anchor without having to use the motor, which is the way it should
always be, whenever possible.

We dropped the hook at 16:00hrs in one of the most beautiful bays that
I’d ever set eyes on, a crescent of golden sand that must have dropped
right out of a travel brochure for the South Sea Islands.

What a place! . .There was a couple of million pounds worth of assorted

yachts anchored in the bay but that sort of thing never concerned me,
I’ve always thought - “it’s not who has the biggest toy that counts, it’s
what you do with what you have”. This is really a yachtsman’s paradise,

for you need a boat to get here and believe me, it’s worth buying a boat
just to see it. Ashore and a oat there were loads and loads of fantastic
looking females - all models I’m sure - all cavorting about, having fun,
either topless or nude. I almost had a heart attack (I still haven’t
recovered)!

This is de nitely not the place for a twenty-six year old bachelor to bring
his mother!!

I spent the rest of the day looking around ashore (or looking at things
ashore) and splashing around in the sea, then in the late afternoon I was
forced to shift our anchorage as a couple of other boats had arrived and
anchored way to close to us. Them being Spanish and me being a guest
in their bay made it appropriate that I should be the one to move. The rest
of the evening was very peaceful and after a good dinner we sat in the
cockpit with a bottle of wine and let the day slowly fade into a great
sunset leaving us memories that will never die.

Sunday the 24th.. “03:00hrs checked anchors and cables”.

The rst few hours of the morning had everyone looking around at the sky
and tapping barometers whilst trying to get a weather forecast that one
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could both understand and trust. There was a lot of cloud and a moderate
swell was rolling into the anchorage, the sun had developed a watery
look, all the signs that something was afoot in the meteorological
department. We were all fooled however, as by the time morning co ee
had been dispensed with, the cloud had all cleared away and the swell
died down to leave us with ‘situation normal’.

We went ashore to walk around the island and across the small causeway
that almost divides it into two. I took something to eat and surprised Mum
by producing glasses to go with the wine (no point in slumming it with
plastic cups). I took some pictures of the local scenery, most of which
were later censored, it was a fantastic day. Mum and I went our separate
ways for a while, which didn’t get me anywhere, although I did try to chat
up a few of the girls on the beach and got myself involved in rescuing a
small hovercraft which had come a cropper when it sucked a big bit of
plastic into it’s fan. Pulling on ropes whilst rubbing shoulders with half a
dozen completely naked females of ‘cover-girl’ beauty made me realise
that there had been something missing in my life up to that time, it’s still
missing as I write this but at least I have a plan. Next year - maybe - I’ll
write another story!

Time was getting on so I decide that we should proceed to Sabine

Harbour, which is the main port on Formentera Island, there had been
various stories going around about a lagoon that lay close by and I
decided to check it out. At 17:00hrs we commenced heaving the anchors
and departed under sail, it was a beam-reach all the way so we made
good progress. At 1800hrs I started the engine and dropped the sails, ve
minutes later the anchor went down just outside the harbour. Five
minutes of summing up the situation and I laid out a second anchor
having decided that this was not the greatest of anchorages for the
present conditions. It may have been better had we been able to get
inside of the breakwaters but I was unsure that there was enough water
for us, also I could see a lot of shallow draft craft on moorings inside,
which I didn’t fancy getting mixed up in. So we remained anchored
outside and went ashore in the late afternoon (18:20hrs) to have a look
around

Being a Sunday everywhere was closed but even if everything had been
open there wasn’t much to see, we had a drink in a nice little hostel that
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overlooked the lagoon and I could see clearly that this area was shallow, I
concluded that the lagoon would only serve vessels of less than three feet
in draft. We returned on board at 19:15hrs and right away hoisted sail,
followed rapidly by heaving anchors and beam-reached across to our old
spot in the anchorage o Espalmador, curiosity satis ed!

I would have liked to stay at Espalmador for the rest of the year, however
time had moved on again and it was clear that we would have to depart
and get back to Alicante within the next couple of days. During diner that
evening I put some thought into the matter and decided that there is no
time like the present, so without further ado the dinghy was brought
aboard and secured, anchor heaved up, sails hoisted and we were away.
Hoisting sails turned out to be a fruitless exercise as the wind died the
moment the anchor was aweigh but I expected some wind once we got
clear of the bay, so we dropped the sails again and motored out into the
darkness, threading our way through the many anchored boats by
torchlight.

Monday 25th June, 01:40hrs… “Hoisted Mainsail and Genoa, stopped

motor, breeze sprang up”

I was rather glad about the appearance of the breeze for two reasons,
one was that I was already fed up with steering and the other was that I
did not relish the thought of motoring all the way to Alicante.

03:00hrs… “Reduced sail, dropped mainsail, mainly to allow more chance

of sleep for a tired crew”.

06:20hrs.. “Vessel continues to move well, hoisted mainsail as day

breaks”.

We were being very lucky with the wind again, a steady force four from
the north veering slowly around to the northeast. However, as we
approached the mainland there was quite a sharp increase in wind force
and by the time we had Calpe Rock (Ifach) to the north it was blowing
force six to seven with some heavy squalls, I had to put quite a few rolls
in the Mainsail to keep her under control. By 11:00hrs we were creaming
along at seven or eight knots (hull speed) and it was all too much for the
self steering gear, the squalls caused loss of control and we broached
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 several times so I dropped the Mainsail completely until the situation
improved. I guessed that the strong wind was ‘local e ect’ around the
Cape San Antonio area and this proved to be correct, for as we pulled
abeam of Benidorm the wind started to die down and I put on all sail
including the spinnaker to keep her going. It was to no avail, we’d sailed
into a windless hole and had to resort to motoring for two hours before
the wind came back. This time from the south!

By the time we were on the nal run into Alicante the wind was back up
to force ve again, which was very ‘Mediterranean’…..Blowing almost a
gale one way and then in the space of a few miles, blowing almost a gale
from the opposite direction. As we rushed down on the breakwater I got
caught by a sudden wind shift, resulting in an unplanned gybe which
nearly took the mast out of her. We shot round the breakwater into
Alicante harbour at 17:40hrs and I clawed down the sails and secured
them quickly as we motored up the outer basin whilst struggling to keep
out of the way of a manoeuvring cargo ship, which was having di culty
getting turned around in the strong wind. It was with some relief that we
got berthed without any problems and elected to remain on board that
evening in preference to rushing o ashore.

The circumnavigation of Ibiza and Formentera had taken a little over six
days, we had sailed two hundred and eighty miles in sixty-two hours and
visited eight of the anchorages available in this group of Islands (and
there are many, many more). Really, it was all done too quickly, two or
three weeks should be allotted to a cruise of this sort, however it was a
very worth while experience and I look forward to going again.

Tuesday the 25th of June, I don’t know whether the night was peaceful or
not because the way we slept that night, they could have held a
revolution in our cockpit and we would still have slept through it. By
morning however we were feeling somewhat better, so we got to work
right away, there was a lot to do as I wanted to take a load of excess gear
o the boat before I departed from Alicante. I hired a car which we loaded
up before closing down the boat and driving home, even after a good
nights sleep the motorway was too much for me and we had to stop for
co ee along the way, which just goes to show how hard we had pushed
ourselves as well as the boat.

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Having hired the car for three days I didn’t want to leave it standing
around, so after a good nights sleep at the Villa we proceed to get the
dog out from the kennels and took o on a short expedition into the
mountains, to the old Monastery at Guadalest.

This is a particularly beautiful place, perched right on the very top of a

mountain and having fantastic views of the surrounding countryside. If
you are lucky and your car makes it to the top of the road, and then if you
are doubly lucky and your legs don’t give out climbing the thousand steps
or so to the Monastery itself, then the whole expedition is very worth
while. However I think that most of the graves up there are of the tourists
that were foolish enough to try and invade the privacy of the place! Even
the dog found the going di cult and he had ‘four wheel drive’ (apart from
being well rested after his holiday in kennels).

Thursday the 28th, I left home at 08:00hrs and having said my goodbyes
to Mum, drove the hire car back to Alicante, after which I rejoined the
boat. The original idea of carrying on to Malta had been o cially shelved,
somewhere between Vilamoura and Alicante on the voyage out I had
decided to return to Portugal to lay-up the boat. Apart from all the other
‘not so good’ things that I had been hearing about Malta, Vilamoura was
two days nearer to me (so long as the winds were not altogether
unfavourable).

It was blowing a bit round the harbour and I could see it was rough
outside, however the direction was correct and I did not intend to let a
favourable wind slip by without using it to my advantage, even if I had to
run before it under Storm Jib. There were the usual things to do before
departure and I changed back to the No.2 Mainsail for good measure.

At 14:40 hrs I got the engine going, let go of the quay and heaved up the
anchor

14:50hrs.. “Hoisted sails (reefed Mainsail and No.1 Jib) in the inner
harbour”.

15:00hrs.. “Vessel clear of outer breakwater, zeroed the log, set course to
the south”.

17:15hrs.. “Blowing quite strong, reduced Mainsail by four more rolls and
removed the Genoa from where it had been lashed forward”.

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 At 18:00hrs I logged “easterly force six or seven” and noted that it was
‘rough going’, however we were really eating up the miles and the wind
was coming round to the northeast slowly, so I was no longer worried
about being on a lee shore. By midnight we were well outside the tra c
lanes o Cabo de Palos and the wind fell to steady force three, so I
dropped the mainsail and changed the No.1 jib for the Genoa, which
made the boat quite comfortable, thus allowing me to get a few hours
sleep with only minor interruptions.

Friday the 29th…. We moved along well throughout the early morning and
at 09:50hrs, after breakfast, I hoisted the No.2 spinnaker and boomed this
out to starboard with the Genoa boomed out to port, By noon we had
made a hundred and twenty-two miles since leaving Alicante which gave
over ve and a half knots (or a daily rate of a hundred and thirty seven
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miles per day). Also at noon the wind began to increase again and we
were soon sur ng along on a dazzling blue sea with brilliant white horses
scattered all around.

It was during this time that a minor tragedy occurred, I lost the Red
Bucket over the side, you can’t get much more personal than ‘The Red
Bucket’ and a personal loss is always the worst kind. With the boat
rigged the way she was and doing the speed that she was, there was no
going back so I stood in the cockpit watching it grow smaller astern,
helpless to do anything. Really it was just a simple thing but at the time I
felt quite shocked. I had some visions of it being a crew member or even
myself and wondered what it must be like to be back there in the water
watching the boat sail away, knowing that there was no coming back,
How many yachtsmen have seen that sight? My safety harness and I
could not be separated for the next couple of days.

As we passed to the south of Cabo de Gata the wind increased to force

seven for a while and I had to reduce sail quickly. This was a local e ect
again and I was learning fast to watch out for these headlands, especially
where the wind was blowing parallel to one of the coasts that made the
headland. There were some gusts of over force eight and for a short while
we ran under bare-poles whilst I decided what to do about the sails, as
usual I decided wrong for I hoisted the No.1 Jib and the wind promptly
started to fail, worse still, it went round to the southwest so by 21:00hrs
we were beating to windward under the No.2 Mainsail and the Heavy
Weather Genoa. Having got the choice, I thought it would be wise to stick
with the land and so tacked into Almeria Bay, by doing this I could at least
remove celestial navigation from my list of jobs and, if the wind should
have come up fresh from ahead, I could put in somewhere for shelter
without having to give any ground. The wind remained west or
southwesterly throughout the night and into the next morning, so I tacked
this way and that, avoiding the land on the shoreward tacks, shipping on
the seaward tacks and shing boats in the middIe, all whilst trying to get
some occasional sleep. It was very wearing!

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Saturday the 30th of June was a vey uninteresting day, it was spent
tacking along the south Spanish coast in very ckle breezes, sometimes
using the motor to assist, on a few occasions this lasted for several
hours. When the wind had a rest, we proceeded under motor alone and I
would drop the sails to prevent them ogging. I changed up to the No.1
Mainsail and set the No.1 light weight Genoa, although I knew that this
would be an invitation for it to blow a gale. However, the way things were,
anything would be an improvement. There were some good moments
when we closed right up to the land, going about at the last second so
that I was able to exchange greetings with people on the beach of the
bays into which we tacked.. That evening the wind failed quite early, so
being as I was fed up with motoring, I took down the sails and turned in
for some undisturbed rest.

Sunday the 1st of July, at 02:40hrs I struggled out to hoist some sail and
get underway again, the wind was picking up quickly and I noticed that
the barometer had been dropping.

We were soon bashing a path to windward through a short and steep sea
with several rolls in the Mainsail and the Heavy Genoa. As the wind
reached force ve ‘Mr John’ began to make heavy weather of it and there
was quite a lot of pounding, so I changed down to the No.1 Jib plus more
rolls in Mainsail and continued to push to windward like that. I guess that
if the sea had not been so short and steep we could have set a little more
sail, however, as it was we were doing our imitation of a Nuclear
Submarine (again), and not wanting to submerge permanently I thought it
a good idea to be short of sail rather than over canvased.

As the day wore on the wind steadily increased and progress to windward
was both slow and painful, By 10:00hrs Calaburras Pt. was close at hand,
so even in these conditions I expected to make Puerto Jose Banus before
darkness and if the worst should occur then I could always run o down
to Malaga. I was wishing that I had left the No.2 Mainsail on, because she
was very unbalanced the way things were and I certainly was not going to
start messing about with the big mainsail in these conditions. I did
manage to get it well rolled (reefed) down and quite at, so that at least
was helpful.

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By 15:00hrs it was really blowing and I recorded force seven to eight with
gusts of eight to nine so I went down to the Storm-Jib. That was a
mistake as it happened, the Storm-Jib is both very small and very at and
therefore developed little drive for windward work, so what progress I had
been making was chopped right back, however there was a little too
much wind for the No.1 Jib, so I was in a bit of a rut. At 14:50hrs I started
the engine and commenced motor sailing at slow speed, this was a last
resort to get to windward and I was surprised that it seemed to work so
well (if it hadn’t then we would have had to run back to Malaga). Every
inch had to be fought for but ever so slowly we worked our way up the
coast.

At 16:00hrs we were coming to the end of a long tack o Marbella and I

was faced with a tack o shore before I could lay a course for Banus, a
long and bone shattering job in these conditions. As we got close inshore
I noticed that there was a substantial breakwater at Marbella (not on the
Admiralty chart), with what looked to be some masts of fairly large boats
behind, weighing up the situation quickly, I decided to investigate.

Although Banus was less than ve miles distant now, it was going to be a
very painful ve miles, so I dropped the storm jib and motored over to
where I reckoned the entrance was and crossed my ngers, because by
the time I discovered my reckoning to be correct, we were well into the
breakers that were throwing themselves on the beach and the protecting
wall at the harbour’s small opening.

We shot through with the wind astern and I had to do some very quick
thinking to get us turned round and alongside, for there was not all that
much room, it was a strange harbour and the wind was carrying me down
it very fast, anyway, we made it and once again I said a prayer to the
Farymann (Diesel) god.

Marbella turned out to be a very pleasing place, there was a Marinero on

the quay to get me into the right berth and to help with the warps, the
man who came for the money and details of the boat spoke some English
(better than my broken Spanish) and everyone was very helpful, what was
more it was all very cheap.

The actual Marina was still under construction so what boats there were,
and that wasn’t many, were all on the inside of the breakwater lying
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alongside as opposed to stern-to. I stopped the motor at 16:30hrs and
secured with plenty of warps as there was a swell getting in to the
harbour and I did not know if this would get worse or not. Sometime later
I noticed that there was quite a lot of spray coming over the breakwater
and it was blowing a whole gale outside, I was very glad to be safe and
secure in port. I had a most enjoyable time in Marbella, the harbour was
only a short walk from the town and a very interesting town it was. Of
course it was Sunday again so most of the shops were closed but I had a
few hours walk that evening, just to stretch the legs and get acquainted
with the place.

Monday the 2nd…. After a good nights sleep I went ashore to the local
market and purchased a supply of fresh vegetables, returning to the boat
well loaded down. By the time I had everything stowed and washed up
the breakfast plates it was time to be thinking of moving on, especially as
the gale force winds had now left us. They went just a quickly as they
came, the sea was still a little lumpy but that was also going down fast. I
took the opportunity to change back to the No.2 Mainsail whilst in the
berth as we were getting close to the Straits of Gibraltar again and that’s
an area with a reputation for strong winds and heavy downdrafts.

12:00hrs.. “Singled up fore and aft”.

12:05hrs.. “Started motor, let go and departed from Marbella”.

13:00hrs. “Arrived at Jose Banus13:06hrs.. Stopped motor and went

ashore to clear the boat inwards”.

That was a very short trip but it put me where I wanted to be, having
heard so much about Jose Banus I really didn’t want to miss it.

After I had lled in the various forms and got stung for three hundred and
eighty pesetas, which I thought was a bit steep, I was allotted a berth and
so proceeded in that direction. As soon as everything was secure I got to
work on the jobs that had been mounting up over the past few days. I had
another go at reorganising the stowage of all the heavy gear, this was an
attempt to remove the weight from the ends of the boat where it was
spoiling the motion in a seaway. Being a symmetric hulled boat ‘Mr John’
likes to pivot about a central spot especially when going over a choppy
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 sea whilst beating to windward, having so much weight in the ends had
destroyed all this and that was why she had been digging her nose in to
nearly every wave that came along.

Puerto Jose Banus and its very distinctive Marina O ce……..

Puerto Jose Banus had been described to me as the, or should I say

THE, yacht harbour of the western Mediterranean, so I dressed in my

nest attire that evening and went ashore to see what was what.

Apart from some very nice boats I found the place quite disappointing, I
expected a playboys paradise with prices to match, however I found that
although the price of everything was high, the jet-set swingers were
somewhere else. The only people around were the professional crews
from some of the bigger yachts and loads of tourists and sightseers.
There was no evidence of ‘going some place’ cruising yachts and many
of the bigger yachts didn’t look as though they’d been much further than
the breakwaters in the past couple of years.

I had a few jars whilst chatting to a couple of Skippers and one or two
crew members, doing my arithmetic as quickly as possible, I came to the
conclusion that most of them were either skint or had a private income,
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because even on my salary, I couldn’t have hung around those bars every
night of the week without getting an acute pain in the wallet. Still, they
were nice people when you managed to get talking to them and I
gathered, from what was said, that I was a little early to see the bigger
yachts that cruise down from the eastern Mediterranean each year on
route to the Caribbean.

Everyone was amazed to hear that I would be moving o in the morning,

just like the people in Marbella who couldn’t believe that I’d arrived from
the east in the weather they were having. After all, who in their right mind
would spend the best part of a day beating through a gale and then
spend only one night in port?.

Tuesday the 3rd. of July, and although I didn’t get to bed until 02:00hrs I
managed to rise for 07:50hrs and decided to get going as soon as the
boat was ready. It was obvious that the sailing people of Banus were not
early risers, for when I struggled out to let go, there was not a sign of life
anywhere. So as to cause the minimum of disturbance I cast o and
pushed the boat free of the berth before starting the engine. Actually, I
started to get away under sail and hoisted the Genoa for a few seconds,
until I saw that she wasn’t going to move o without rst making a sweep
to leeward, and seeing as there was no room for that sort of thing
between the narrow line of moored boats, I hastily dropped the sail again
and started the motor before creeping as quietly as possible from the
harbour. We were clear of the breakwaters by 08:12hrs so I stopped the
motor and hoisted the Genoa and No.2 Mainsail, it was another beautiful
morning with a light breeze and a rippled sea.

09:45hrs.. “Up Spinnaker, down Genoa… fairly good drill”.

11:50hrs.. “Down Spinnaker, started motor”.

We had a at patch to get through so I pushed ahead under power, during

this period I sighted what I thought was another fender drifting on a at
calm sea so I went over and made a pick up. Unfortunately it turned out
to be a ball, but none the less I was quite pleased. If it had been a person
in the water I hope I could have made a pick-up with the same ease.

12:30hrs.. “Stopped motor, hoisted Spinnaker”

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 15:00hrs..“Hoisted No.2 Spinnaker, vessel now running under two
Spinnakers and the small Mainsail”.

It had always been one of my ambitions to run under two Spinnakers ever
since I saw an advertisement for the ‘Arpege’ where there was a photo of
it sailing across a beautiful blue sea with two spinnakers pulling strongly,
now it was my turn, and not forgetting that this was single-handed work I
thought it was quite a feat and was very pleased with myself.
Unfortunately the wind went and died at 15:40hrs and both spinnakers
collapsed on to the deck, so with only ve miles to run to get into
Gibraltar I started the engine and commenced motoring. With the helm
lashed she would steer a fairly steady course for a few minutes at a time
so I was able to stow the Spinnakers whilst making way, thus by the time
we rounded Europa Point everything was shipshape on deck. That was a
good thing because there were one or two strong downdrafts on the lee
side of the Rock and ‘Mr John’ heeled well over as the No.2 mainsail took
the weight.

At 16:00hrs we secured alongside in a berth in Sheppard’s Marina, it was

a bit of a squeeze getting in but we managed it without too much
di culty.

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The Customs and Immigration were all waiting on the quay, three of them,
all looking very o cial, they each had their sheaf of papers that needed
signing and stamping, so I invited then below where we could at least do
everything in comfort. When I consider the amount of yachts that use
Gibraltar every year, I can visualise a whole mountain of papers and forms
that must be collecting dust somewhere ashore, perhaps that is why they
have had to dig so many tunnels into the rock! I guess it keeps the civil
service busy so there is no point in complaining.

After doing one or two odd jobs I went ashore to see what was what.
‘GB2’ was in the ‘Pens’ and she was looking a right mess but I suppose
that’s what you get from pushing a boat hard throughout the year and
racing must be really punishing. There was no one I knew knocking about
but then there never is when I go looking for them.

The rest of the evening was spent looking around ashore and having a
few jars in the English styled pubs scattered about the town, there
weren’t many people about and a lot of the bars were deserted, so I soon
got bored and returned to the boat for dinner.

Wednesday was spent tearing all over the place trying to get repairs
arranged, stores collected and telegrams sent. I spent a lot of time at the
Cable and Wireless o ce trying to get through to my insurance company
as I was about to depart from my schedule and wanted to make sure that
my cover was in order, there was a lot of di culty over this which was
mainly my fault for using the wrong telex number, in the end I could only
send an instruction for cover to be extended for my passage back to
Vilamoura and bill me later if necessary, I would have liked to get a reply
but by the time I discovered about the wrong number it was too late (I got
the number from the local Lloyds agent so I blame him for that). Anyway,
It turned out that the cover went through alright, not that I ever got to use
it, but I got close!

I was lucky here in that I found a French Yachtsman who was willing to
buy my spare self-steering gear, he got a really good bargain but I wasn’t
too worried as having lugged all this gear up and down the Mediterranean
I was pretty fed up with having it getting in my way on board. It wasn’t
possible to get the repairs that I wanted done, however there was nothing
that couldn’t wait so I was not overly upset. On the other hand I was
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really pleased about the selection of goods that could be bought in the
local stores, most of which were not much more expensive than in the
U.K.,

That night I had a really slap-up meal on board with some of the new
selection of food that I had been able to pick up ashore, this was all
washed down with plenty of Spanish Red, so once again I was able to
retire in a state of well fed, well plonked and happy!

Thursday the 5th of July 1979, I woke up sometime just after six, and with
enthusiasm that I got from I don’t know where, dragged myself on deck
and took a cold shower from a hose on the nearest pontoon. It was not
the best of mornings but there were signs that things might improve as
the day progressed, I wasn’t all that worried either way as my only
interest was in the wind speed and direction, I was about to start the nal
short hop back to my marina berth after many miles of fast cruising. I had
spoken with the Met. O ce at the Air Port the previous afternoon and I
had been listening intently to the forecasts on the local radio station, it
seemed generally agreed that we would experience force ve to six in the
Straits and force three to four once we got clear. It was going to be
easterly and for us headed west it would be a nice lift from astern, just
what we needed.

07:30hrs.. “Oil levels cheeked and O.K.

07:45hrs.. Rigging check”

08:00.hrs. "Vessel prepared to sail”.

I ran through my departure program in the normal way spraying

everything with WD40, testing jib hanks and shackles tightening the
lashings on the dinghy, memorising the various courses and distances
and the things to watch out for on the passage. After this I went to see
how Simon on the boat next door was getting on, we had only met the
previous day when he had shown an interest in a Ta rail log that I was
trying to og. He had a Twister (class yacht) and was going the same way
as myself so we agreed to sail in company. It would be a fair match for
although I would be single handed whilst Simon had a good strong crew, I
believed that I would have the edge on hull speed as my Shipman is a
pretty nifty boat and can really put down the miles when she gets the
urge.

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There seemed to be some early confusion due to a late start on ‘Silver
Twister’ that morning and so our pre-departure co ee was cancelled,
however we arranged a communication program and I passed over my
camera with the idea that he might be able to get some nice pictures of
my boat under sail. My departure got o to a slow start as I was well
boxed in by a Dutch yacht that had arrived next to me whilst I was
ashore. Although I had given plenty of prior warning of my sailing time it
seemed that the owner had gone o shopping but was due back “any
time”. This was disappointing, as with this delay the amount of helping
hands and rope haulers had doubled in number and whilst I can
appreciate a helping hand, I usually try to restrict it to one or two boat
owners. This because they are more aware of what it costs to run a boat
and are therefore much more careful than none boat owners. Anyway, the
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Dutch Skipper arrived and moved up a bit and I started warping out of my
berth at a speed which was a little beyond my control. However with
plenty of good, fending o on my part ‘Mr John’ moved clear of her berth
and was at last in a position from which we could proceed. It had not
been the best example of how to get out of a berth!

What with one thing and another it was now 11:30hrs and I was an hour
and a half behind my schedule, however this had given Silver Twister time
to get organised and she slipped away from her berth when he saw that I
was moving, thus we departed together. As we motored out across
Gibraltar Bay, Simon manoeuvred around so as to get some photos of me
with the rock in the background, we had some heavy down drafting as we
moved out into Gibraltar Bay and I managed to attain about eight to ten
degrees of heel under bare poles, however I noticed that ‘Silver Twister’
was not so a ected which says a lot for that particular class.

11:50hrs.. “Up No,1 Jib. 12:05hrs stopped motor”. 12:10hrs.. “Down

Jib,up Genoa”.

12:15hrs.. “Up No.1 Jib”.

This was my downwind rig, Genoa boomed out to starboard and the Jib
boomed out to port but free down the lu as I only have the one forestay
and the Genoa was hanked on to that. With this rig I know that I can
reduce sail area very quickly, there are some disadvantages however
when it comes to Gybing, as sails go up and down like the proverbial
YoYo,

13:10hrs.. “Lead block for Jib pulled out. Down Jib; down Genoa, un-
hanked Genoa, hanked on Jib, Hoisted Jib... vessel proceeds under Jib
alone”.

The wind had been steadily increasing and the self steering gear was
having some di culty as we danced across a short breaking sea with the
speed needle uttering around seven or eight knots. I had just nished my
lunch and was standing in the hatchway having a glass of Muscatel,
peering astern to see how Simon was getting along when the ‘twang’ of
the block parting clearly signalled that I was pushing too hard, she was
much more comfortable once I’d changed down to the Jib. At this stage I
realised that I had made a tactical error in getting to far out into the
middle of the Straits, I was now pushing the full weight of the adverse
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current and had managed to manoeuvre myself into the Tra c Lane
which promptly became very busy. ‘Silver Twister’ was doing much better
inshore and had closed up my lead, it was getting a little rough by this
time with a short breaking sea which was typical of the wind against tide
situation that had developed.

By 14:30hrs it was force seven gusting force eight and we were getting
over-pressed again so I crawled forward to lower the No,1 Jib and hoist
the Storm Jib. Before I went, I carried out my usual practice of setting the
self-steering so as she would run o with the wind slightly on one quarter.
This had always worked before and ‘Mr John’ would more or less hold
her downwind course right the way through the sail change, managing
quite well with just the Bare-Pole during the few minutes that we were
without sail. I should have realised that in this short and steep sea she
was getting thrown about too much to keep a course without the driving
power of a sail. Anyway, whilst I was in the midst of doing my thing on the
foredeck, a particularly nasty wave threw the boat o balance, she
broached and came down hard on her side, the following wave or two
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came crashing into and over us and I had to hang on forward, as green
water swept the deck. As soon as she started to make leeway and let the
waves push her sideways the situation improved, so I was able to
complete my work and struggle back to the cockpit with the jib which I
stowed away below.

By the time I was ready to proceed we were south of Tarifa Lt. and still in
the Tra c Lanes so I sheeted in fast, uncoupled the lines from the self-
steering and pushed the tiller up to come o the wind, the tiller felt
suddenly very light, and my heart felt suddenly very heavy. I gave the tiller
a waggle to con rm my fears, it moved easily in my hand but then, when I
had the tiller hard over it seemed to catch, the boat responded
immediately and bore o picking up speed quickly, then it slipped and I
had to swing the tiller through its full arc before it caught again. Quickly I
examined the tiller-stock to see where the problem was but the tiller was
still secure to the rudder stock, I stuck my head into the aft locker but
there was nothing unusual to be seen. I knew then what the problem was,
the thing I didn’t know was what I was going to do about it. Looking over
the stern I could still see the rudder, most of which was fully exposed
each time one of the troughs passed it by, it was moving from side to side
with no e ect on the tiller. The only thing that could be causing such
movement would be that the metal tangs on the rudder stock that run in
to the blade, must have sheared.

The sea was beginning to cream a little now with the force of the wind, as
I looked to the north I could just make out ‘Silver Twister’ and I guessed
that Simon was heading for the shelter of Tarifa Harbour. I still had some
control of direction and I looked at Tarifa with a new interest, to get into
the harbour would mean passing to windward of the lighthouse and the
jagged rocks on which it stood, I would have to pass through the narrow
breakwaters into a harbour which I did not know, nor did I have a chart. I
put all the facts as logically as I could through my mind, fortunately a little
voice in my head called out for ‘sea-room’ and I felt a little con dence
returning. I surveyed the scene and considered what I had in my favour
‘Mr John’ is a well equipped boat, if anything over equipped. I had in fact
been trying to sell o all sorts of surplus equipment during the earlier
parts of the cruise as the boat had been somewhat overweight, things
that I had parted with included a complete spare Vane Steering System, a
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 Ta rail Log, spinnaker pole and one hundred metres of three inch
polypropylene rope, there was much more on top of that but it is always a
good idea to start a cruise with gear in hand. There was still far more gear
aboard than was required so there was no problem on that score, also the
boat was sound, no other damage had been in icted. So all that I had to
do was stay a oat until such time as I could rig up some emergency
steering and get under way again, well that was the theory anyway.

It was now blowing up to a full Levanter and looking to windward was

near to impossible, the wind blew my lungs up and made breathing
di cult, the spray stung my face and the salt in my eyes was painful. It
was a wild and beautiful scene although there was little room to enjoy it,
the only control I had was due to the rapid, backing and resetting of of
the Storm-jib, heaving it this way and that to force the boat in the
direction I required.. It was hard work and I was fast running out of
energy.

By 15:30hrs I could get nothing out of the tiller, it was no longer moving
the rudder. It hadn’t been much use for steering with before but at least I
had been able to steady it, the rudder was a major factor in the balance
of the boat, without it’s steadying e ect the boat was swinging around on
it’s pivoting point in the deep and narrow keel. I went forward and
lowered the Storm-Jib, there was water going all over the place as the
sea was just the kind that yachts don’t like, short, steep and breaking.

Below, with the hatch closed, life was a little better, apart from the bangs
and crashes and a low pitched humming that was caused by the wind
whistling through the rigging. Movement had to be kept to a minimum
and every inch of it had to be controlled, the damage to the boat was bad
enough, I knew that if I managed to damage myself as well then there
would be little hope of survival. I took a dinghy oar and the small
spinnaker pole from the quarter berth and set to work making a steering
oar, this was not a big job and I was soon ready to give it a try. I Lashed it,
to the Starboard quarter and hoisted the Storm-Jib. It did not take long to
see that it just wasn’t going to work, with the self-steering gear occupying
most of the stern there was very little room to swing the oar also the
motion was to violent, I could not keep the blade under control and as
each wave crashed down on it there was a kick back that threatened to
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either have me over board or snap the spinnaker pole. Having run out of
options, I lowered the sail again and lashed the oar on deck, I was wet
and shivering from exhaustion so I retired below for a brandy and co ee.

By 16:00hrs we were two miles west-south-west of Tarifa on the port tack

and going like a train under just the bare-pole. Left to her own devices,
with no rudder, the boat was almost ‘close reaching’. With this there was
no way that we were going to get blown out of the Straits, especially with
the prevailing current running to the east. To slow her down I streamed
two hundred feet of nylon in a bight (with a bucket in the bight), this had
some e ect but not as much as I had been hoping for and therefore left
me with another problem. Our track, which was more or less across the
wind, meant that we were slowly heading for the North African shore. I
worked out that I would arrive there some time in the early hours of the
morning and at that time we would have to go about to tack o shore, or
else pile up on the rocks over there. I had tried to get the boat about
earlier during my experiment with the steering oar, without success,
unless the weather moderated, I knew that there was going to be no joy
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 with that. somehow I had to get the rudder to operate or at least get the
thing locked hard-over one way.

I set to work on rigging a sling that would slide onto the rudder blade
from below in such a way that the two forward leads could be used to
hold the blade either one way or the other. This operation took nearly
three hours, most of which where spent leaning over the stern with a boat
pole, continually covered in water, trying to manoeuvre the sling into
position and bring the securing ropes tight all at the same time. One
minute I could be half submerged and the next I could see three-quarters
of the rudder-blade as the stern went upwards like an express elevator, it
was di cult work and I was glad when I nally had it nished.

My next little problem came in way of an added bonus, and a bonus that l
could well have done without, I was just closing o the hatchway when a
large sea deposited most of it’s crest in the cockpit, water poured in
through the hatch and because I was there with washboards in hand, the
water used me as a scoop and funnelled below with even more force than
it would have otherwise done, it also threw me across the boat and nearly
wrenched the washboards from my hands.

I must confess that I was not very well prepared for all this water getting
below, up to this time she had always been very dry below decks so
when the water bounced on to the chart table it was able to swamp my
calculator and wash it and everything else that was on the chart table
onto the cabin oor. A small wave went along the shelf on the starboard
side of the saloon drowning radios, headphones, tapes and documents
on the way. The bunk cushions were soaked and the quarter berth was a
small swimming pool, all sorts of things were oating round the cabin
oor in about a foot of water. What had been a nice, warm and cosy cabin
had been turned into a disaster area in less than a minute. I was rather
upset and managed to curse and swear continuously for the next half
hour whilst I tried to restore a little order to my washed out world.

What looked quite bad at rst was soon looking a lot better, as I have said
before l am lucky to have a very deep bilge on the Shipman and after I’d
shed my belongings out of the pool of water in the saloon, I lifted one of
the sole-boards to assist drainage and the water soon disappeared from
sight. There was now about twenty- ve gallons of water in the keel space
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 but there was still room for another ten before l would have to worry
about it ooding the battery which I kept in the upper bilge. I guessed that
there was still another couple of gallons to nd its way below from the
quarter berth and from some of the lockers that had become ooded but I
decided against pumping out at that time as I already had too much to do
with night approaching and ‘Mr John’ now drifting across the west-bound
tra c-lane and heading for the east-bound!

By 22:00hrs it was dark and I recorded easterly eight to nine for the wind
force in the log-book, It was too bad to put my storm light out so I lit the
cabin as best I could and drew back the curtains to let as much light out
as possible then I settled down to a night through which I would not be
able to take more than ten minutes rest at a time for the Straits of
Gibraltar is something like the M1(motorway) as far as shipping is
concerned and there is a constant stream of heavy tra c. Also there is
little room for manouverlng with a large vessel and so I made an
agreement with myself that I wouldn’t blame anyone for running me
down. Every time I looked out of the hatch there was a ship bearing down
on me, I would switch on my mast light and ash a powerful torch in their
direction, I guess I must have upset a lot of people that night.

Even with ashing warnings there were still a few very close calls that left
me with ‘heart in mouth’ bobbing in the wake of some ship that slid past
with only a boats length between us or less. The ships were sometimes in
a position that they could not alter course to avoid me without causing
havoc in the tra c lane, after all, it’s so narrow around those parts that
when one ship is overtaking another they take up most of the lane. Add to
that a sprinkling of shing boats and it all spells a pretty big headache for
the o cers of the watch involved. At one stage I had been concentrating
on looking to the west for some time as I was in the east-bound lane,
there was a swish of water from behind me and I looked around to nd a
shing boat nearly on top of us. It was only his instant response to my
torch beam that averted a collision, as it was he passed with only feet to
spare and as he pulled away my heart was throbbing at a fantastic rate, it
took a little while for me to get over that one. A side e ect of the close
passage of all these vessels was a very upset wave pattern that threw the
boat around without mercy and deposited several crests of heavy green
water on board.

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At 01:00hrs on the Friday morning I logged easterly force eight and made
a note “Vessel heading for rocks on North African shore, not sure if I can
get her to go about, packed a few things and got the ares out”. I did not
at any time during this whole episode su er from fear, I guess I was just
too busy! I have had a good shot of that once before when sailing and
know what it feels like, I was somewhat surprised with myself for being
able to view the situation in such a calm and detached way. Thats not to
say I was making all the right decisions but at least I was still functioning.
We were moving in towards the coast and as we got closer there was less
and less tra c, this meant that I could get half an hour of undisturbed
sleep.

When I awoke and went on deck I could hear the seas breaking on the
rocks around Pta. Al Boassa, the point was fast approaching when I
would be able to test the e ectiveness of the sling that was holding the
rudder over. There was no certainty that I could get the boat around onto
the other tack so I sorted out the most important things that I would like
to take with me should the need arise. I made my lifejacket and wetsuit
ready, not that I thought there would be much chance of survival from
those jagged rocks and steep cli s but I’d developed a combination of
the ‘do or die’ and ‘have a go’ attitudes and seeing as I couldn’t really
think of that many people who would worry over the loss of ‘Mr John’,
there did not seem to be much point in me getting worried either!

At 03:00hrs the motor burst into life at the rst touch of the starter button
and we commenced manouverlng to get onto the starboard tack, it took
three attempts and the best part of an hour before I got her settled on the
course I wanted. For the hove-to position, the rudder is normally carried
to windward with the helm lashed down, this was the way we were before
going about. However, as soon as I got her round under power, the
rudder was then on the lee side and so the boat just carried on going
round until she was back on the port tack (which was most frustrating,
especially in those conditions).

On the third attempt I managed to heave the rudder over as we went

through the wind, this was done by slacking and heaving the securing
lines and playing with the throttle all at the same time, I was quite
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 exhausted by the time everything was squared away, however it was
quite a relief to be headed o shore again and my spirits rose accordingly.

By 07:00hrs we were back into the heavy tra c again but as I noted in
the log-book “not really in a condition to worry too much” After breakfast
I did a little clearing up then rigged the emergency bilge pump which on
my boat is a Gusher 25 and this bolts to a convenient point in the cabin
where it is comfortable to sit and pump away for hours on end should the
need arise. This was mainly a precautionary measure but it also gave me
chance to pump out the water that we had already accumulated. There
was a smaller bilge pump out in the cockpit but this I judged to be
unworkable in these conditions.

Soon after noon I sighted a west bound ship, this was a good position
indicator and a sign that we were now clear of the east-bound tra c lane.
The wind was going down and at 13:00hrs l logged it as force seven to
eight however the seas were still short, steep and nasty so there was no
chance of doing anything constructive to get moving again. Ships were
now bearing down on me again but this time from the east. I secured a
heliograph on some lacing below the boom and this spun around in the
wind catching the suns rays and scattering them in every direction, this
seemed like a good way to alert ships to my presence. In conditions such
as these, with plenty of breaking seas about, a small yacht is a very
di cult target to see from the bridge of a ship, even in daylight, and
anything that gets noticed could be a life saver.

One thing that had not changed was the way that a crest of water would
jump into the cockpit every time I stuck my head out of the hatch, this
always resulted in wet clothes and long bout of cursing, so I made a note
in the log book in the hope that it would keep me reminded of the
situation, but the idea did not work well and I continued to get wet.

At 15:00hrs that afternoon, just over twenty-four hours after the incident
occurred, the rudder broke o . I had been sitting inside nishing o the
book I was reading (Clare Frances - ‘Come hell or high water’) when there
was a lot of banging, and crashing from down aft, the rudder blade was
just tearing itself from the stock. Leaning over the side, I managed to get
a hand to it but that was not enough. With the boat jumping up and down
as she was and the sea still crashing into the side, it tore away from the
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stock and ripped out of my hand. I could do nothing, every few seconds
my head and shoulders were being immersed as the stern plunged up
and down in the seaway, I struggled back into the cockpit as it vanished
over the wave-tops. It was very depressing, losing anything over the side
is depressing, but when it comes to a major part of the boats structure
then the depression is even worse. There were however two positive
points that I was able to weigh against the loss (and I was really in need
of positive points!). One was that the rudder stock was still in place and
therefore we were still water-tight. The other was that the rudder had
broken away without doing any apparent damage to the hull, so we were
not sinking! I had to be thankful for small mercies.

At 22:00hrs I recorded force six and it was obvious that the weather was
starting to moderate. Although I now had little idea of my position I was
not too concerned. It was a relief that I could no longer see ships or land
and my spirits rose accordingly, I hoped that it would continue that way
for a while. There were still a few bangs and crashes from odd waves but
in general things were much better, I spent a lot of that night thinking up a
plan of action for when I could get sailing again. The plan as it turned out
was only a con rmation of my previous intentions, I was going to
Vilamoura, even if I had to row there!

Saturday the 7th of July. By the time I’d got breakfast out of the way the
wind had dropped to force three so it was time to get going again, half an
hour was devoted to making up an improved steering oar which
comprised of the main Spinnaker pole and two dinghy oars lashed
together. When it was nished I shipped it over the stern and then hoisted
the Storm-Jib, movement of the oar was somewhat hampered by the
self-steering gear, which took up most of the room at the back of the boat
however with a little e ort we were away for 08:30hrs. It was a good job
that I had had a substantial breakfast because I had to cling to that
steering oar for the next four hours without a break then at 12:30hrs I
stopped for co ee and to change to the No.1 Jib, then continued like that
until 14:00hrs, at which time I got fed up with steering and tried to sort
out a balanced rig that would relieve me of that chore. In the end, after
trying a few combinations we arrived at a point where she was at least
going in the right general direction under the No. 2 spinnaker and the
Storm-Jib pulled aback. A strange set up but it worked!

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With the boat sailing herself again I was able to tidy up below decks, sink
another brandy and co ee and wash myself, the salt had gone crusty on
my face and the cleansing tingle of that cool fresh water is something that
will never be forgotten. At 16:24hrs I saw a tanker coming my way so I
got the engine going to give some boost to my radio and then called him
up. It was the ‘British Wye’ a B.P. vessel, the O cer of the Watch was
very helpful and gave me a range and bearing from the shore. I was rather
surprised to nd that we had drifted a long way over the previous twenty-
four hours, discounting the sailing that had been done so far that day she
must have been making about three and a half knots of leeway or more,
no wonder the rudder had been lost from view so quickly. After saying our
goodbyes he departed over my horizon at good speed, I started the
engine and put in three and a half hours motoring which took me through
to dinner time, whilst getting the meal ready we drifted on a calm sea and
a curious Italian coaster came to look us over. He did not respond to
V.H.F., so there was a fair amount of arm waving which nally conveyed
the fact that I was not in distress, or at least something like that. After a
while, he got fed up of steaming round me and headed o . There was still
no wind after dinner and into the evening, so there was little else to do
but go to bed and try to increase my reserves of energy.

Sunday the 8th of July, clocks were retarded one hour to G.M.T. plus one
at midnight and at 02:20hrs, when a little easterly breeze sprang up, I
hoisted the No.2 Spinnaker and the Storm Jib and away we went with me
clinging on to the steering oar like some defunct Viking. Three hours of
that was enough so down came the Storm-Jib and up went the No.1
Genoa in it’s place, only this time I sheeted it to windward to balance the
spinnaker, the speed dropped but we were still going in the right general
direction and I was able to get a couple of hours rest. By 08:00hrs the
wind had gone round and it was necessary for me to steer again, sails
went up and down like the proverbial YoYo all through the morning.

The Spinnaker came down at 10:30hrs all on it’s own, leaving the swivel
and the halyard up the mast (snap-shackle broke), and I was thankful that
there was no shortage of halyards due to precautions taken before
departure from the U.K.. I managed to keep her going for an hour or so
under just the Genoa, spilling wind but drawing enough to move us
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 forward. That gave me time to have some ‘Brunch’ but soon after, the
wind went round on the nose so I hosted the Mainsail and o we went
again whilst I heaved and strained with the steering oar and the miles
passed ever-so-slowly by.

Windward work was very tiresome and quite a lot of strain was going
onto the steering oar, the sight of the oar bending under load was quite
o -putting, each time we passed over a wave the oar would kick back
and would usually catch me in the ribs, a painful exercise all round! I soon
got fed-up with this idea and set her up in a ‘nearly-hove-too’ position,
headway was reduced to two knots but there was little I could do about
it. One side of my rib cage was now red, black and blue and my arms
were aching. As evening approached I began to look for land, navigation
had not really been possible up to this time but I had a fair idea of where I
was and that was good enough for me.

At 19:30hrs we were o again, however I soon had to lower the Mainsail

as the balance was not quite correct and a lot of strain was coming on
the steering oar again. No sooner than I had the Mainsail stowed away, I
sighted land coming up on the starboard bow and as darkness was now
falling it seemed a wise idea to get as close as possible before it actually
fell. It is one thing to run parallel with a coast during darkness and
another to feel one’s way inshore when trying to get close, especially
when there is a low sand bar, as there was in this case. My landfall put
me quite close to Faro which was still a few miles from Vilamoura and
what was worse was that it was a few miles directly down wind, a
direction that could only be achieved whilst steering. I weighed up the
situation and concluded that if I was going to have to steer it would be
easier and quicker to motor, so at 21:00hrs the Jib came down for the last
time and we began to motor at a moderate speed up the coast,
‘moderate’ speed was due to being a little low on fuel, however I was
fairly con dent that there was enough to get us home. The wind died
away slowIy and by 22:00hrs we had at calm, it was really a beautiful
evening for motoring up the coast and under normal conditions I’d be
loving it. I stopped before midnight for a cup of co ee and to put some
oil-skins on for there was some dampness and a slight chill in the air, as I
sipped the co ee the lights of Vilamoura twinkled a beckoning welcome
only a few miles away, it was a heart warming sight and I have to admit
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that there were a few times during the previous couple of days that it
looked like ‘Mr John’ wasn’t going to make it.

Monday the 9th of July 1979. 00:30hrs, we drifted gently up to the arrival
dock and secured alongside in Vilamoura Marina, I stopped the motor
and so ended a forty-seven day cruise of which thirty days were spent at
sea, we had covered 2,616 miles and 2,336 miles of that had been single-
handed. I personally consider it as an achievement not for any great e ort
on my part but because the voyage had been completed with an ‘o the
shelf’ second hand boat with fairly standard equipment, a boat I’d never
sailed, there had been no special tests or sea trials but she made it. A
credit to her builders and an example of what can be done with limited
funds if you have a mind to do it. It also goes to show that the old adage
is right…..If you buy the right boat it will look after you!

There was of course the problem with the rudder but I think that was
exceptional circumstances, it must be expected that some damage is
likely to occur, it is a measure of a boats worth in the way that she is able
to cope with that damage, that she has aboard all the equipment
necessary to overcome any problems that arise.

Monday the 9th and I was up and about at the crack of dawn, after an
early breakfast I was able to have a short walk before the Customs and
Immigration opened at 09:00hrs. As soon as the formalities were
completed a berth was allocated, well actually I was able to choose a
berth to my liking from a number that were available…. This because I’d
decided to buy a berth and it would be ‘Mr John’s’ home for the coming
years. I was pleased to note that all the Marina sta were just as helpful
as on my last visit and all seemed very happy that I had returned to their
Marina.

09:40hrs .. “Completed formalities, departed from Customs Quay”

10:12hrs.. “Vessel securely moored in berth, stopped motor”

I was fairly keen on having a restful day but there was an exceptional
amount to do, so it worked out that even when I was doing nothing,
something was getting done. On the way down to the berth I noted that
‘Silver Twister’ had arrived before me, which was hardly surprising!!
Simon had put into Tarifa as I had thought at the time, even so he had
been bu eted by strong winds in the harbour. He had heard my ‘PAN’
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message shortly after I lost rudder control and hadn’t thought my
chances of survival to be very strong! Anyway, he was very glad that I had
made it and we had some yarns to swop over morning co ee aboard his
boat.

The steering oar

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The rest of the day was spent airing out and washing things with fresh
water, I spent some time on the rigging preparing it for my imminent
departure, then I went for a swim and checked out the rudder stock to
see what I was left with. There was just the stock and the weld marks
where the tangs had once been.

Later I walked around to the o ce and booked to go on the Tidal Grid

where I could dry out and work on the bottom of the boat. Whilst there I
was able to survey the grid at low water and see where the resting blocks
were, thus I was able to make some marks on the wall as to where
exactly to position the boat on the grid so that she would sit right on her
keel.

Tuesday the 10th July, at 03:00hrs I was up and about getting the boat
moved across to the grid where we secured alongside at 03:20hrs. Then
all that was required was to wait for the tide to go out and leave her
standing on her keel, high and dry. There was a tendency for this type of
boat to go ‘bow down’ if left to its own devices, so I had already rigged a
rope to the bottom of the grid which I could take to my stern and secure
once the keel touched and this prevented that from happening. Once I
had that rope secure I was able to take two hours more sleep before
starting work.

The removal of the rudder-stock did not take long, once this was done I
had some free time to get some extra anti-foul on the hull. I raised the
level of the anti-foul about two inches all round and managed to cover the
areas which had been under the chocks when the boat was anti-fouled
whilst sitting in her cradle in North Wales. Everything was completed. just
in time as the tide started to rise again.

I took a couple of hours rest whilst waiting to oat o and then at l4:50hrs
proceeded back to my berth. On the way back I met ‘Silver Twister’
heading out, Simon was on his way back to the U.K. and had a long hard
slog in front of him. That evening there were some strong winds blowing
around the Marina and I noted in my log that I hoped ‘Silver Twister’ was
O.K. and that I was glad to be in a secure berth for the night, I heard later
that he actually blew out a mainsail o Cape St. Vincent that night, but
eventually got back to the U.K. without too much trouble.

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The skeg with the rudder

stock in place.

The welded stubs from

where the tangs parted
can clearly be seen

Wednesday the 11th of July and it was varnish day, I rubbed all the
outside woodwork down doing a quick job rather than a professional one,
then applied a couple of coats of Varnish to give the boat a bit of
protection until I was able to spend more time and do the work properly.

Thursday the 12th was spent doing odd jobs, most of which were to do
with the engine and electrics, all of which had to be isolated and prepared
for six months or more without attention. I also started packing as I had
received marching orders from my company and that terrible thing called
‘work’ was waiting just around the corner.

Friday the 12th saw me trying to get something xed up with regards to
my rudder, however I couldn’t get anything de nite in way of an estimate
for repair so it seemed that I would be taking the rudder stock with me to
work. I would have to see if I could make a new one myself! That evening
I managed to hire a little ‘Mini’ from Avis and had a quick drive around the
Marina and the Vilamoura Complex which was much larger than I’d
expected. There was a Golf Course, Riding Stables, Casino and many
other attractions scattered over a wide area, clearly this development was
going places.

I returned for dinner on board and had a nice young couple over from an
Anderson 22 which they had sailed out from the U.K., it made me think of
the Hurley 22 that I had owned prior to ‘Mr John’. That had been a solid
little boat and would no doubt have made this voyage as well as the
Shipman, however I like having the extra space and the greater speed
that this boat gives me. I concluded that a boat of around thirty feet was
an excellent size for one person, giving enough space to move around
without getting thrown around. anything larger would just increase
expense with little reward other than waterline length and the increase in
speed derived from that.

I wouldn’t say my guests were in anyway ‘strange’ but I did nd one thing
a little odd. The Anderson had two quarter berths and a double in a ‘V’
forward, Apparently, they slept separated in the quarter berths and their
big, old English Sheep Dog slept on the double forward! As a single-
hander I was in no position to pass judgement, but this sort of
arrangement did not feature in any of my future plans…

Saturday the 14th July, 06:50hrs, I closed up for the last time and
departed in the hire car for Cadiz where my next job was awaiting me.
One week later I was o again, heading south to the Arabian Gulf by way
of Cape Agulhas, not single-handed this time and not really looking
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forward to the ports that I was likely to be visiting. However I was at sea
again and that’s the

place I feel most at home, I guess we all have to work

and my work stretched out ahead of me, from where I was standing there
was over a thousand feet of deck to the big blunt bow, which was
plowing a deep furrow on a tranquil blue ocean.

This was to be my next ship, A 320,000 tons VLCC (Very Large Crude Carrier). She was
alongside in Cadiz when I joined her.

The ‘Mr John’ story is a long one and spans many boats, if you would like to see
the Videos please check out :

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLvW81vf8IfAZx2yS9uuBrA/videos?
view_as=subscriber

Also, more publications and Cruising Guides at:

scribd.com / yachtmrjohn3695
Authors Note

Looking back through this narrative I can see that I was on a steep
learning curve when I set out from the U.K.. Fortunately I had the bene t
of youthful tness, which got me through what could have been some
serious situations. Still, nothing ventured - nothing gained.

John & Paula Wolstenholme - Bahamas - Mr John VI

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