Another day in the heat wave…. a long but very rewarding 65n. miles day sail from Swansea, round the Mumbles, then the length of the Gower Peninsula, across Camarthan Bay to Tenby and then into Milford Haven which is “Aberdaugleddau” meaning “the mouth of two rivers Cleddau” in Pembrokeshire.

Milford Haven is an important commercial port and industrial centre ( oil and liquid nitrogen gas )… so the landscape you first meet on entry reflects its history… one of the deepest natural harbours in Europe with several oil refineries.

Once past all this ….. our marina that we are staying in tonight is 10n.miles fom the sea…. then the scenery changes and opens up into villages, countryside, woods, and peace and quiet. The actual waterway is known as a ria in geographical terms…. a river valley flooded by sea water at the end of the last ice age.

Geography lesson over…. we left Swansea Marina at 8.30am this Friday morning. Already quite warm, shorts and tops were the dress code for the day. We passed through the marina lock with no problems ( although a strange lock in its shape… only two forty footers could fit in at any one time )…. and then out into the huge main Swansea Barrage Lock on the River Tawe.

It was high tide and on the radio, the Barrage Lock Master had told us that we might be able to do “free flow”…. what this means is that the high tide sea level on the outside is as high as the level in the lock and the river. When we got into the lock and just before we stopped to “hold station” in the middle as the far end gates were shut…. he said “sorry… no can do free flow”…. so we started to move Poli Poli sideways to moore up at the box pontoon…. then over the radio… “oooops sorry Poli Poli…. think I can do free flow” …”just hold station in the middle” and I will open the gates..”!

From moving sideways we moved the other way back to the middle… none of this is easy with a 15 ton boat who sometimes has a mind of her own! The big gates swung open, the throttle pushed forward and Poli Poli glided out into the River Tawe and into the sea at about 9am. Thank you Mister Lock Keeper! We all laughed.

Photo… above the Mumbles and start of the Gower Peninsula, south of Swansea.

A strange, very hot day out at sea… passed the Mumbles and Oxwich Bay ( is this the one famous for surfing? ). One minute the wind ( a mere fickle of a breeze ) came from the east, then the south, the west and even the north…. I do think that by the end of the day we had wind from all points of the compass and never more that 10 knots.

Photo above… note wind speed of 3.5 knots…. Poli Poli needs at least 10 knots… and from one consistent direction.

Absolutely useless for sailing. However , when in the south the slight breeze provided us with a “beam reach” point of sailing and we had both sails up and did actually sail. However, that lasted no more than half an hour… so in the end we motor sailed with both main sail and jib up. But as soon as the wind went “variable” these had to be constantly fiddled with or taken down altogether.

 

 

Just before I was about to start making lunch downstairs in the galley… hot baked beans on bread and butter…. real gourmet luncheon… we had visitors. From upstairs in the cockpit Mike shouted out “dolphins”….. “look all around the boat!” I came up with phone camera at the ready and sure enough… a whole pod showing off… some leaping out of the water around the boat… into the air… others zooming in twos and threes racing along the sides of the boat…. and some,  the real “show offs” going straight to the bow to race the boat.

 

 

What a really impressive and breath taking spectacle. Nature at its very best. Pure, unadulterated and natural entertainment. Does anybody have any theories as to why dolphins do their bow wave spectacle? I am sure having watched them today for at least 15 minutes at the bow, they roll sideways and look up at you. Marvellous. Made the day a special one.

We entered the drowned river valley at about 4pm… the ria …. of Milford Haven and Mike helmed Poli Poli most of the ten miles by green  buoy hopping…. in this case green to green in the East Channel…. to the entrance of Neyland Yacht Haven on the north bank. T got a chance to practice his nautical skills in putting out 16 fenders and 6 warp mooring lines ready for berthing. We docked safely at 4.40pm…. tired, hot and very thirsty.

Photo above of our chart plotter…. we are the black boat…just rounded the Mumbles south of Swansea, about to set a new course along the Gower Peninsula going westwards… stay in the white water… the deepest.

One factor that should be considered in evaluating the quality of a marina, in my mind, is always the initial welcome you receive when you first arrive… and assistance provided in berthing on a strange pontoon. Well Neyland comes very high on this score… the welcome and help we received at the actual berth was both impeccable and second to none. A young gentleman was there to guide us in and take our lines and show us the basics… ie shore power, office location, showers and toilets etc etc.

This also happened at Brighton Marina, Dartmouth, Dart Marina, Plymouth, Bristol, Cardiff and here at Neyland. All were exceptional in their welcome and help at arrival. They deserve a word of praise.

Photo above Neyland Marina… evening of Friday29th June 2018. Can you see Poli Poli?

Another view of Neyland Marina.

Map to show where we are now, Friday evening, all day Saturday, leaving Sunday morning for Ireland.

 

So today…. Swansea to Neyland… 65.00 n.miles, duration 8 hours.

747.0 n.miles from Eastbourne.

Saturday is a rest day. Sunday is Ireland and Kilmore Quay across the Irish Sea.

ps… “Springs” are exceptionally high tides and exceptionally low tides. They occur twice every month when the sun and moon line up in a straight line with our earth and there is a double pull on all the oceans and seas. So we say Springs are “high high tides and low low tides”. That’s all to do with the height of the tide… Springs also mean very very fast tidal streams… the rate and speed of flow.

In between the two monthly “springs” you get what are called “neaps”… just ordinary tides. So beware “springs”!

 

 

 

 

 

The heat wave certainly visited Cardiff on both the days we were there… a sweltering 29 deg C. No rain into the two rivers that feed the massive freshwater lagoon called Cardiff Bay ( formerly Tiger Bay but now much ‘poshed up’.

So the Cardiff Barrage locks ( there are three ) have cut their opening times to a minimum so as to not let the lagoon water out to sea. Somebody told me that because of the heat wave the two rivers were actually ‘back flooding’… the Rivers Ely and  Taff .

We spent a morning and afternoon visiting the city centre and then the old Cardiff Docks at the head of the Bay area. Again an area being rejuventated  with shops, eateries, various exhibitions, water sports, and the astonishing memorial board to a fictional death of an actor in the Torchwood series. The guy died as the series ended… in fiction… but the memorial is like a replica of the Princess Diana public outpourings of grief. The bloke did not really die for goodness sake.

We travelled in hot, old fashioned diesel trains in and out of Cardiff Central… where the hustle and bustle of city life was evident everywhere. Much new building taking place in Cardiff… high rise skyscrapers going up everywhere…. much like Bristol. Hope they remember to put the original name plates back on the roads…. they had forgotten to do this in Bristol!

We returned to the relative peace and calm of the Ely River, where Cardiff Marina was located. Here the roar of traffic overhead on a new bypass was set in contrast to a Swan family with young sygnets paddling in and out of the pontoons, plus a family of moorhens who seemed to do nothing butchase each other…. plus canoeists, paddle boarders, kayaks, and much sporting activity of strenuous types. Very peaceful though if you were just watching.

Day 33…. Thursday 28th June 2018. Another scorcher, three locks and no swing bridges… Cardiff to Swansea.

We left in the cool of a breezy Thursday morning at 8.30am from our pontoon in Cardiff Marina on the River Ely. We had checked that the Cardiff Barrage would open for us at exactly 9am. As Mr. T always does things early…. so we got there too early and were told to wait… so we did circles in Cardiff Bay.

The lock procedure was fine… the exit into a shallow sea with white horses and a 17 knot easterly wind was not. It was rough… and Mike holding on at the bow got wet…. but as he is always ‘hot’ he said it had cooled him down. Once we got away from the entrance into deeper water, evreything calmed down and we set our course westward towards the Mumbles of the Gower Peninsula.

Far out to sea, the wind died or what wind there was came over the stern in gusts. So we motored… but did not really need to… the west going tide was ferocious. By 11.45am we had done 29 n.miles in just over two and a half hours. We simply zoomed along and found ourselves south of the Mumbles far too early. T had to slow everything down as we had calculated that we would not get into Swansea Harbour by the big barrage lock on the River Tawe until at least 3pm.

So we trundled along at 5 knots instead of 11, and as the tide turned against us… this slowed the whole journey into Swansea. We made one attempt at entry up the River Tawe… but thought better of it, so reversed out and did ‘circles’. At 4.15pm which was half tide wefinally managed to gain entry…. so after two locks and no swing bridge we are now safely berthed at 5pm in Swansea Marina for the night…. and is it hot???? Yes yes and airless!

Total distance today… 49.2 n.miles, 8 hours duration.

682.0 n. miles from Eastbourne.

Tomorrow Friday… an even longer day… Swansea to Milford Haven… some 60 n.miles.

 

 

Up at 4.15am this morning, slipped our mooring lines at 5.20am and reversed out of the Arnolfini Building pontoon in the centre of Bristol. Dawn had broken but it was both the stillness of the the city plus the cool air that were most striking. We bid farewell to the two giant horns of Pero’s Bridge … not a single soul crossing.

 

We motored slowly at 2 -3 knots westwards along the floating harbour to the first swing bridge… in front of this it was fairly easy to “hold station” as there was not even a mere hint of a breeze and no tidal currents.

Mike working the mooring lines 6.20am in the final lock leaving the ‘Floating Harbour’ of Bristol and about to enter the River Avon…. morning sunshine.

 

At exactly 5.45am we presented ourselves to the Junction Lock Bridge…. as instructed… then watched it swing in a long arc so that Poli Poli could pass through. Having done such maneuvers in the canals of Holland there would have been at least ten light combination signals to beckon you forward…. here there were none, not even a single green. Those of you who have passed the CEVNI test will know what I am talking about!

 

Within the space of half an hour, we had passed through both swing bridges, crossed the Cumberland Basin, done the final lock…. and exited into the River Avon proper. So at 6.25am we were heading north up the River Avon…. about 8 miles to the sea at Avonmouth…. once again passing under the Clifton suspension Bridge and through the Avon Gorge. The day was warming up after the chill of the dawn, and sailing jackets were removed.

The River Avon, widens out as you approach the sea ( Estuary of the River Severn ).

 

Today’s journey had been planned the night before…. and one prerequisite was that when we entered the main River Severn Channel we met a tidal stream that was travelling in the same direction as the boat. After bouncing through the wash of an incoming Dutch Ocean going tug and then a Pilot boat, we executed the plan of buoy to buoy navigation as we travelled down the channel towards the Welsh coast. Not a breath of wind so all on the motor!

 

So we kept on the right hand side of the shipping channel… passing such buoys as Second Green Buoy to Newcombe Red, then to Welsh Hook South Cardinal… onto East Mid Grounds red, to East West Grounds… the safe water mark, to Hope East Cardinal, and then finally to South Cardiff… another south cardinal …. meaning keep to the south. The cardinals look like vertical bees with their yellow and black prominent horizontal stripes.

Once we had avoided both the Monkstone Lighthouse standing in the middle of shallows and overfalls as well as the Cardiff Grounds… a shallow ridge… we navigated into the final approaches to Cardiff with a transit up the Wrach Channel to the Cardiff Bay Barrage locks.

Cardiff was once a major tidal port with deep docks for commercial shipping. The Cardiff Bay Barrage was constructed by linking the outer docks all together, thus sealing in the freshwaters of three rivers that drain into Cardiff Bay, and creating a huge freshwater lagoon in front of the City. The salt water tides were therefore kept out by the barrage.

In order to pass from the outlying sea into the freshwater lagoon of Cardiff Bay, you have to go through one of three huge locks. The inbound lock only opens at 15 minutes to the hour and 15 minutes past the hour.

We faced head tide coming up the approach Wrach Channel…. this slowed us from 8 knots on the way down from Bristol…….to 4 knots on engine. We arrived at the Barrage locks at 9.50am so, thinking we had missed it, called the gentleman manning the locks, on the VHF radio and asked if there was a waiting area for the 10.15am lock.

A kindly voice said, as we are not too busy at the moment, we are holding the lock open for Poli Poli. Relief all round… having entered the barrage… it would have been impossible to reverse out… and there was no waiting area. So we finally entered Cardiff Bay at 10.10am.

There were multiple choices of where to berth in Cardiff Bay, After lots of thought, we opted for Cardiff Marina on the Ely River near the town of Penarth, but with good access to the centre of Cardiff. By 11am we were safely berthed on a hammerhead… pontoon J.

We had made it to Cardiff in  Wales, our very first of five capital cities. A scorching hot day… and the BBC reported that a place in North Wales had achieved the highest temperature of the year so far…. an amazing 31 degrees C. I thought it rained a lot in Wales…. well that has been my experience.

Duration 5 hours 40 mins, distance 30 n. miles from Bristol.

 

 

Tomorrow…. Tuesday 26th June, 2019….. Day 31 of our Circumnavigation…. the good ship Poli Poli will quietly slip her lines at the crack of dawn and head for the Cumberland Basin, the two swing bridges and the seaward lock…. hopefully all will either open or swing and we will head down the River Avon to the open sea. Technically not the sea but the Estuary of the River Severn and part of the Bristol Channel.

We have been instructed by the port authority to be at the first swing bridge called Junction Lock Bridge by 5.45am tomorrow. We are heading for Cardiff…. about 30 n.miles down channel from Bristol City Centre. Firstly there will be about 8 n.miles sailing down the River Avon which will include a second visit to the Avon George and its iconic suspension bridge. Also the M5 Avonmouth bridge, not as spectacular, but that comes later in the journey out to sea.

So why the delay and 5 nights in Bristol? Our main freshwater pump which serves three sinks and two showers…. started malfunctioning in the Scilly Isles. On reaching Newlyn on the mainland we thought we had it fixed…. a marine engineer came and investigated… the original pump was defunct with a leaking diaphragm.

He made his diagnosis on a Friday afternoon in Newlyn and promised to return after the weekend with a new pump. He did not. On phoning his works we found that he had reported sick with an abscess. There was no other engineer available. We had already wasted two days in Newlyn ( although we would not have been able to sail as the weather was atrocious ).

We had no option but to go rather than lose a third day. So we have had no running water to the sinks or showers. Toilet flush is done with sea water. When we arrived at Portishead we found a marine engineer guy called Ray … a mad but brilliant motor bike guy. Mad on motor bikes just to clarify. He looked at the empty space in the bilges where the old pump had been and he organised the purchase of a new one from Force 4 Chandlery in Bristol.

This was duly collected on the Friday after we had arrived in Bristol…. but once again a weekend got in the way. Ray did a good job on the Friday but needed to come back on the Monday to finish it off with a special part from his works in Portishead. He completed the new freshwater pump this morning Monday… and we sail tomorrow Tuesday. Thank goodness for that. “On the road again”….. a Canned Heat song of the 1960’s comes to mind…. not really a “road” but the metaphor is there. Remember Canned Heat anybody?

Margaret left Bristol for Battle and home on Sunday morning. After a walk to the station with Margaret … to Temple Meads…. I walked back along the canal into the city centre. I crossed from the south to the north side at St. Phillip’s Bridge just below Castle Park and St. Peter’s Church.

As I approached the bridge I noticed a number of menfolk with telescopes, binoculars, and cameras… leaning over the stone railings. I looked left downstream and noted a huge brownish building adjacent to one as big, but covered in plastic and the jib arm of a great big building crane sticking out.

As I have encountered such folk previously, I always make a habit of stopping and asking “and what are we looking at today…. please? Well the gist of it was… a pair of peregrine falcons had mated on a ledge at the top of the brown building…. mistaking it for a cliff face… water below etc and lots of lovely fat pigeons winging about ( food source ).

Two young peregrine falcons had been produced and they were still hanging around the nest high up on the ledge. Amazing …. all in the centre of a major city. Yes I know about the falcons on top of Chichester Cathedral…. but weren’t they put there to deal with the pigeon population? The natural habitat of the peregrine falcon is not high rise office blocks in cities… or is it?

So in conversation with a lovely, charming, knowledgeable elderly gentleman, we first established the difference between a “twitcher” and a “bird watcher”. He was the latter…. the former he described as …. “obsessive, bonkers, over the top” folk. Ok?

What this kind gentleman did do… was to allow me to look through his super dooper double telescope… the size of … well a mini type Jodrell Bank thing. What did I see?… firstly the male Peregrine Falcon sitting at the end of the jib of the building crane.

And then the kind chap, refocused, readjusted to the high ledge on the brown building… and lo and behold a wonderful image of the female Peregrine falcon preening herself. The youngsters were no where to be seen. Nothing to do with sailing… but a wonderful moment in a crowded, noisy big city.

So it is not all hustle and bustle, Weatherspoons, hotels, the Za Za Bazaar and a hundred noisy eateries and bars….. and thousands of people with people banter and singing going on until the early hours. A pair of Peregrine Falcons live here as well.

Tomorrow is Cardiff…. our first of the five capital cities. Welsh falcons I wonder? Thought it was more “dragon” country? We will see.

 

They are called “rest days” but both Friday and Saturday were actually “mend the water pump day” and then “laundry day”. So lets start with Friday…. Ray a motorbike man through and through… but also a sailor, and an expert marine engineer agreed to come over from Portishead on his “two wheels” and sort out our main freshwater pump which had been spitting out mainly air and a little water. So it was a day in the saloon with sole boards up and intricate work down black holes… called the bilges. Margaret… as she does…managed to extract Ray’s life story… as he worked!

T made forays for parts, bits and pieces….. back and forth from one side of the city to the other… on the ferry… so much so that 13,000 steps came up on the i-phone health app. The water pump was replaced and works a treat… but Ray has to return ( he lives in Weston-Super-Mare ) on Monday after he has made up a secure bracket to fix the said new pump to the bulkhead. The pump is now working without this bracket at the moment… M washed her hair in the shower this morning!

Today Saturday has been laundry day… the third such occasion … Portland ( the keel hauling business ), Falmouth and now Bristol. So three laundry days in a four week period…. not bad at all… we sailors are clean sailors thank you very much! No ironing though. We did a ton of washing today…. in the YHA building 30 metres from the boat… and what a delight. M went to the nearby Tourist Information Office and asked about nearby laundrettes…. they said the YHA opposite the boat would be happy to allow visitors the use of their laundry facilities. So we did…. and compared to both Portland and Flamouth marinas… it was a real pleasure.

In between all this Margaret has been on an open bus tour around the City… as she usually does… and has done the sight seeing thing in earnest.

Tonight… well thousands of pop fans have been flooding into the City for the Saturday night U2 orUB40 bands ( am not sure )…. and as I write, reggae type music is blaring out, multi coloured lights flicker on and off …. the beat is well…… very loud but we think it finishes at 11pm… and there about 10,000 fans in attendance.

M has gone to bed… she heads back to Battle tomorrow Sunday from Temple Meads on the 11 o’clock train. M will return for the Scottish section… we hope!

Ray our motorbike marine engineer comes to see us on Monday… and so we sail again on Tuesday…. to visit the first capital city on our circumnavigation… Cardiff. Tuesday evening should see us in Wales… providing we get the tides right!

We were all impressed with Portishead Quays Marina… very well organised, quiet, peaceful, and so so clean and tidy. Showers were a bit iffy…. wonderfully shiny clean but the hot and cold controls in two of the three Gents showers needed clear notices…. far too hot on the settings, T had to try the third smallest after nearly being scalded. Rarely seen that sort of problem in marina showers before.

We had a good nights rest… very quiet on the pontoons. Margaret had  now joined Poli Poli crew the previous evening. T… despite the control problem had two showers, one on arrival and one just before departure…. needed after the three days of consecutive sailing up from Lands End.

We departed Portishead in the 11.30am lock out ( which we had to book the night before )… our plan was to sail up the River Avon to Bristol City Centre and moor up at Bristol Marina.

In order to achieve this we had to plan with the timings of the last lock in to what is called Bristol’s “floating harbour”. The deadline we had to work to was to reach the outer lock of the Cumberland Basin by 2.15pm . Our departure time of 11.30am also coincided with an up channel flood tide. So  in the short 2 n.miles we had of open water in the Bristol Channel… we had the tide with us, This is extremely important and the reasons were explained in the previous day’s sailing up from Ilfracombe. The Bristol Channel has some of the greatest tidal ranges in the world and because of this it also has some of the fastest tidal streams in the world.

We locked out with a fine example of a Bowman sailing yacht plus a modern plastic looking fishing boat. Once beyond the big breakwater wall, the northerly wind smacked us on the face, and the muddy brown waters of the Bristol Channel carried us swiftly upstream. M had taken her Spanish pill ( or pills plural )… but we were only out in open water for no more than half an hour.

Now skipper T had the advantage of studying the charts on the morning of departure…however, as we sought out the entrance to the mighty River Avon, there were silent aspersions cast as to T’s skills as a navigator. Both Mike and Margaret saw a continuous line of mud flats,,, but T insisted there was an opening which represented the so called  River Avon.

The reality was that the entrance was backed by mud banks which made it look continuous, but the river snaked left and T held his ground. He could hear two sets of “breath being held”. T held his nerve, confident this was the Avon and the way to Bristol. It was… and our crew relaxed.

The very first bridge over the Avon on our 8 n.mile journey into Bristol is the M4 … the Avonmouth Bridge. Another factor the navigator on water has to take into account is the boat’s air draft ( height from the waterline to the top of the mast ). Poli Poli’s air draft is 18 metres. The air draft given on the Admiralty chart of the Avonmouth Bridge is 29 metres. ….. so on paper Poli Poli should pass safely beneath clearing it by some 10 metres.

But the equation does not end there…. we were going up the River Avon on a flood tide… a rising tide… and now the height of the tide has to be taken into account the moment or the time you pass under the bridge. We were about two and a bit hours off high tide and the gap, as we passed underneath looked a lot less than 10 metres. So no dismasting but a little bit of angst as we watched to VHF aerial on top of our mast clear the underside of the bridge.

A muddy brown river is the Avon, some quite tight bends, and Mike helmed Poli Poli just right of centre as we proceeded up the channel. We met a training rib coming the other way, a canal narrow boat and a long tourist glass roofed narrow boat…. where the happy ladies all waved to us with big smiles. The riverside scenery was both serene, peaceful and very green… plentiful wooded areas interspersed with fields and copses. A railway line followed the course of the river…. M thought she heard a steam train? Not confirmed.

We came upon a huge craggy rock on the port side…. black in colour and towering over the river. The chart indicated we had reached “Black Rock ” and at this point we were required to check in with the Bristol Harbour Master’s control…. so we radioed in on Channel 12… City Docks Radio VHF stating our position and planned destination.

Before we arrived in the first lock… we passed under the magnificent Clifton Suspension Bridge…. where air draft did not matter … the chart said air draft of the bridge was 71 metres… so no problem. A wonderful experience seeing the bridge high above and passing through the Avon Gorge.

Had to concentrate now on what lay ahead. The channel split… the left hand showing stone walls and at the far end closed tidal gates. To the right was the natural course of the River Avon. So we turned across the flood tide and into the lock… where Margaret spied a man waving a rope at us. We manouvered gently along this high wall, grasped the offered rope and sent up our mooring lines this way. After a lot of throwing lines upwards…. the drop was about 25 feet… we got three lines tied onto Poli Poli.

The wind we had experienced outside the lock earlier on at Portishead had not abated and blew strongly down the lock. We had high fenders out on our starboard side but still had to keep fending Poli Poli off the stone wall  with boat hooks as the north wind blew in.

We had the impression that we were there for about 20 minutes as we had been told by the lock guys that they were waiting for a sailing yacht called “Pickle”. The 20 minutes became forty, Pickle finally arrived, then the large lengthy tourist boat we had passed earlier ( the tourist ladies did not seem to be smiling anymore! ), then a black rib… and the wait on the wall became 40 minutes and then over an hour.

In conversation with one of the lock gentlemen… a guy from the Harbour Master’s Office… who asked us for our destination. We informed him “Bristol Marina” where we had booked a stay of four nights on a visitors berth.

Well this set off a long train of events that were to play out for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Roland… the Harbour Master guy informed us that he did not think Bristol Marina should be accepting private bookings from visitors. He would look into the matter… he was like a dog with bone… and would not drop the issue.

We responded that Bristol Marina appeared in all the national sailing almanacs and pilot books …. and these national organisations such as the Cruising Association and Reeds would not have entries in their almanacs and sailing guides which were not legit.

Anyway, the lock gates finally closed about 2.30pm… the lock filled up and from way down below, we were raised so that we could see the landscape above. Now we waited for the big swing bridge to swing… called the Plimsoll Bridge and nothing to do with the fore runner of training shoes… but with Samuel Plimsoll… a famous Bristolian who came up with a clever idea of how to stop dastardly criminal ship owners overloading their ships and risking the lives of the crew… the famous Plimsoll Line which was painted on the hull of every ship by the Merchant Shipping Act of 1876.

The Plimsoll Bridge duly swung…. and we entered a large dock called Cumberland Basin where we had to hold station whilst a second swing bridge was opened…. but not before the one we had just passed through…. was closed. Both of these bridges carried major roads and there was obviously an attempt to minimise disruption to traffic. We had to wait another 20 or so minutes holding the boats position in the Cumberland Basin with a strong north wind blowing. We did it.

Finally the second swing bridge opened and we motored out into the long stretch of river-like water called the “floating harbour”. In 1809, 80 acres of tidal river… the original course of the River Avon was impounded to allow visiting ships to remain afloat all the time ie blocked off at each end and entry by one lock at one end only. Over the next two centuries the “floating harbour” section grew as a busy commercial port until it closed in 1975. Since then, there has been an enormous effort to regenerate the area for leisure, commerce and residence. Same sort of story as the London Docklands.

We exited the Cumberland Basin and motored along the channel to Bristol Marina. Boy oh boy what a disappointment…. a very small, packed marina… lots of narrow boats on the pontoons… and very poor access and turning space to actually find our allocated berth.

Despite numerous radio and  telephone calls for assistance in locating our berth … with none forth coming, we made two failed attempts to get in…. we abandoned our planned stay here… and retreated to a berth alongside the shore of the main channel where we had a team discussion as to what our options were. Mike and I actually got off Poli Poli and walked to the Bristol Marina to eyeball the berths and turning areas. We were very disappointed with what we found… so we returned to the boat to take stock.

Just as we got back on Poli Poli… up popped our friendly Harbour Master Roland… who just happened to be passing by in a big black rib marked Harbour Master in giant letters along the sides. He now wished to inspect all the almanac entries that depicted Bristol Marina as having visitors berths. He duly took photos with his phone of Reeds, the Cruising Association Almanac plus the Bristol Channel Pilot guide given to me by my kind sister Bridget and brother in law, Richard.  Reeds clearly states “Bristol Marina…5 visitor berths.”

However, our hearts were no longer in defending Bristol Marina. Roland clearly was going to do the investigation. We now needed a place to park Poli Poli.

Guess what…. up popped our friendly Harbour Master… he had a number of visitor berths in various parts of the City Centre. He would go off in his black rib, check out one or two… and phone us back if there were spaces.

Sure enough after a 20 minute wait, we got the phone call. We motored off down the “floating harbour” passing the SS Great Britain on our way, a pirate ship. a pop concert venue on the riverside where there was to be a show on Friday and Saturday night, to a stretch of water known as the Arnolfini…. and lo and behold there was a proper pontoon, cleats and shore power under the trees with a security gate… right in the heart of the City….there also was “Pickle”. The green boat in the right hand pic below.

 

 

And who was on the pontoon ready to take our lines…. our friend now, Roland the Harbour Master man… conducting an investigation into visitor berths at Bristol Marina. We shook hands and Mike gave him a tenner to put in the Harbour Master’s Christmas drink fund. Slaps on the back all round. It had  all started in the lock!!!

And here we are right now…. in the very heart of the City of Bristol.

Poli Poli safely moored up in the centre of Bristol, just below Pero’s Bridge, next to the Arnolfini building and opposite the old Llloyds Wharf…. now a Weatherspoons. Good for a full English.

The photo below… Margaret in the cockpit and the view out of the cockpit tent at the stern. Hundreds of people…. mainly Bristol uni students we thought gathered here in the sunshine.

 

 

On a river ferry crossing the next day, a young guy with blonde dreadlocks … in charge of the ferry…. told me that Roland’s nick name was “Barney Rubble” up and down the river…. and no doubt in a few pubs too. Quite a character by all accounts…. more of that later.

Poli Poli in the heart of Bristol on the “floating harbour” opposite Weatherspoons. 

Poli Poli moored in Bristol City Centre… below Pero’s Bridge …. the two horns!

So Isaac loves Shana… every modern bridge in a major city gets adorned with “love” padlocks. There must be 10,000 on Pero’s Bridge in Bristol. No wonder Robert Dyas is still flourishing… although I did recognise a few from Wilko’s. On the Millenium Bridge in London, the “wibbly wobbly” from Saint Paul’s across to the Tate Modern… used be as above, but Southwark council remove them now.

The two horns of Nero’s Bridge in Bristol…. the tallest mast the other side of the bridge is Poli Poli.

 

Poli Poli in Bristol… by Saturday evening every space on this pontoon was full up!

Poli Poli next to the Arnolfini Centre….. arty culture place. Mainly for Guardian readers… ooops a prejudice has slipped out!

Hey folks…. have just craked this photo thing… loading pics from i-phone onto Windows 10 photo app… then getting them to move to One Drive…. then finding them to load onto the blog…. what a pain.

So if you are interested there are now pics of Padstow, Ilfracombe sitting on the mud, and Portishead. Please scroll back.

Ilfracombe…. T was first up at 5am to gaze down on the surrounding mud… Poli Poli was well and truly aground…. sitting on her grounding plate, keel up inside and balancing on her two rudders and the skeg underneath the propeller. Mike came up a little later… somewhat amazed at what Poli Poli had done during the course of the night. As the tide went out, Poli Poli simply went down and down… until a gentle bump and a bit of creaking… she rested gently on the mud.

Photo above… Poli Poli on the mud in Ilfracombe. Waiting for the tide to come in.

We needed at least one metre of tide to lift us off… and we had calculated that this depth would appear around 9am. We had set ourselves a very challenging target today of 50 n.miles from Ilfracombe to Portishead, near Bristol. Challenging in the sense that sailing in the Bristol Channel is all about tides…. and not necessarily tidal heights…. but the speed at which the tide can flow with you or against you.

Planning to sail in the Bristol Channel… first work out what times you will be there, which direction you are moving in…. and most importantly, check whether the tide is with you ( a fair tide ), against you ( a foul tide ) or across you ( a beam tide ). The objective is to always sail with the tide coming behind you, helping you towards your destination. Usually if you time it right, you can plan for six hours fair tide.

So we planned to leave at 9am and benefit from at least six hours of fair tide as we moved up the Bristol Channel. And boy we certainly got it! As the wind was again directly over the stern, and the swell was rolling us from side to side… we did our best with all sails up ( with a preventer on the main ) and I am afraid, the engine on…. best speed achieved with this set up and a fair tide behind us was a massive 11.3 knots per hour. Why?

Well we had to make Portishead Marina last lock in was 5.15pm … which meant we had to do the 50 or so n.miles in 8 hours…. and in the last couple of hours we expected the tide to become seriously “foul”.

During the first few hours of the passage…the 11 knots became 9, then 8 and 7… and as we approached the narrowing of the Bristol Channel… we were finally down to 6 knots….punching a down channel, ebb tide. We had enjoyed a huge boost with the early flood tide up the Bristol Channel but the last couple of hours was hard going as we punched the ebb. Beyond Weston -Super -Mare the sea had been a steely blue colour, once we had entered the approaches to Bristol, it turned a muddy brown colour…. one supposed the outpourings of silt from from the River Severn?

We had enjoyed fair weather in the middle part of the passage… but early afternoon turned murky and grey…. and very windy too…. up to 24 knots from the north west by now. So an uncomfortable last couple of hours as we punched our way up river to the lock gates at Portishead. The tide was by now, seriously foul.

A long harbour stone wall projects out into the Bristol Channel… and this signals the end of the howling wind and brown coloured buffeting waves. Once round the end of the harbour wall … well peace and quiet and tranquility descends…. Mike sorted our the fenders and mooring lines, I spoke to a lady in the marina office… who had a North American accent ( turned out to be Canadian )… about Poli Poli’s entry into the massive lock showing three vertical red lights at this stage…. and there was Margaret standing high above on the great breakwater wall. We waved…. nothing in return … M was taking photos on her phone!

Photo above…Poli Poli…. Mike in the big, big lock at Portishead, waters tumbling in to raise us up to the marina level.

Now Portishead is the complete opposite of both Padstow and a million miles apart from Ilfracombe. An old Bristol dock, gentrified and in the likeness of Sovereign Harbour, Eastbourne, clean, smart, well laid out, and a Waitrose and lots of eateries. We were pleased to pass out of the huge sea lock and moor up on Pontoon G17.

Poli Poli safely moored up in Portishead Quays Marina near Bristol.  Margaret waving… so sooooo excited at joing the Circumnavigation…. for a little while at least!

We had made the 5.15pm deadline by over 2 hours. We docked at 3.30pm… the race against time and tide was over. We won’t always win, but today Poli Poli did.

Total distance 53.6 n.miles, duration 6 and three quarters hours,

We had sailed for 3 consecutive days and had travelled 179.3 n.miles, with sails of 65.5, 60.2 and 53,6 n. miles each day. We had reached Bristol.

596.8 n.miles from Eastbourne… over half way to our first thousand! It is not a race!

 

I would have liked to stay longer in Padstow…. from what I saw briefly on the evening we arrived…. a town fighting back from recession…. a couple of rest days would not have gone amiss after our hard slog round Lands End and up the Cornish coast.

Photo above… the evening before departure… look at the fog. Poli Poli rafted up against a steel sailing yacht in Padstow.

The inner harbour where we were rafted up is a locked harbour… so at certain times according to the tide rise and fall the lock gates open and close. The Padstow Harbour Master had told us the evening before that he would not open them until 8.45am the next day. Prior to this, we tried out the harbour showers… which were ok… very clean and lots of hot water. After a quick breakfast, we prepped the boat for sea.

As 8.30am approached boats in the inner harbour were straining on their leashes to be let out. Mike went and helped a Hallberg Rassey yacht ( Swedish ) with their lines so that they could be first. The fishing boats were revving up their engines and straining on their moorings. We don’t play the game of first out…. far too risky.

Once outside the harbour wall, in the bright light of morning it all looked so different. We had come in with a howling wind, cold and very poor visibility. We paid a visit first to the fuel berth, a green half a million litres of diesel tank set up on an old harbour wall. Good job our fenders were out …. Mike climbed up the ladder to tie our lines to very old and rusty mooring rings. We filled our fuel tank and left, following a sprightly Nauticat out into the main buoyed channel.

All calmness at first in the estuary…. then we re-crossed the Doom Bar heading north east away from the verdant green hills atop the craggy grey Cornish cliffs. Sails went up and we sailed awhile, until the wind came dead over our stern and the sails flogged briefly from side to side.

Once out of the confines of the estuary and passed the huge threatening islands of rock… now into open sea… and wham bang… did we feel the influence of the big Atlantic rollers bearing down on us…. then under us…. and onwards to pound the coast line.

Big, big waves…. a gloomy, drizzly start. By 10 o’clock it was raining steadily and we hid behind the spray hood, peering round the side or over the top… to spot the odd lobster pot marker… even ten miles out at sea and away from the coast. Visibilty was poor but we managed to avoid any fisherman’s ropes around our rudders or prop. Oilies, two layers, gloves and a hat were the dress order of the day… middle of June for goodness sake.

By 4.30pm we were viewing a grey island shape away to the north… the chart said Lundy Island…. a bird paradise misty and murky in the far distance. Then on AIS  ( a ship appears as a black triangle on our chartplotter screen and we are able to identify what it is, where it is heading, its size and speed etc etc.) …. we followed this small passenger ship towards Ilfracombe …. we reasoned it was a “tripper boat” out to Lundy Island to see the wildlife. What the tourists saw in the foggy gloom, heaven knows.

The “tripper” boat was doing 13 knots, twice our speed and soon reached its home port to disembark what must have been a collection of very cold twitchers.

We arrived off Ilfracombe at about 6pm. The entrance was somewhat difficult to identify and this caused us to track up and down outside until we had clearly seen a way in. By now the wind had got up…. and it was howling banshees again. Amazingly, out in the sea were three rowing boats… full of hardy looking young folk pulling on oars… six to a long hulled thin rowing boat… roaring along at pace, and we could hear the “stroke and cox” shouting in rythmn “pull, pull” and so on. This is what’s known as “gig rowing.” We had seen  this many times up and down the Devon and Cornish coasts and a plenty in the Scilly Isles where inter island races are extremely competitive.

From the descriptions in the pilot books we had, plus those of the sailing almanacs… we reasoned there to be an inner harbour in Ilfracombe which completely dried out at low tide as well as part of the early flood tide. We further reasoned from the varying accounts  that there was an outer harbour which would have enough water in it at half flood tide.

Well we went in finally at 7pm…. only to see a couple of metres depth at best… and a muddy beach leading up to the yellow mooring buoys you were supposed to pick up and tie onto. Our keel had been raised to 0.8m draft and we gently grounded on the mud…. but too far off the yellow buoys to pick up and then  tie up. So we backed out slowly and left Ilfracombe.

We retreated into deep waters and discussed our options. Night passage to Bristol??? Anchor up outside Ilfracombe? Nearest minor harbour was at least another six hours away and we  had already done ten. Our solution was to go round in circles killing time… and we went back in at roughly 8pm and hey ho there was enough tide rise to go in and pick up the yellow mooring buoys. The “rule of twelfths” worked perfectly for us.

 

A complicated system of two pick up buoys linked to chains, tied somehow to underwater weights or anchors…. took us 40 minutes to work out a system of ensuring Poli Poli was secure and would not swing into any adjacent boats.

 

Two hours off high tide we were “safely” moored up…. so down came the dinghy and we rowed ashore for our supper at a quayside pub. We stowed our dighy on a set of steep concrete steps leading down into the harbour…. no wet bums but certainly aching limbs.

Photo above… Ilfracome Harbour. Poli Poli at high water, moored up to the yellow buoys…pic taken after we had rowed ashore.

Poli Poli on mooring buoys, Ilfracombe Harbour. Nearly high water.

So back on the boat after our meal… we worked out that it was one hour to high tide… then six hours back down to low tide… so  at some stage in the early morning whilst asleep…. we would be sitting on the mud. The lifting keel was already fully retracted and I was awakened at 4am by the gentle sound of Poli Poli gently sitting on the mud. She balances on a huge two ton grounding plate set around her one ton keel… and then is held in place by her twin rudders and a thing called a “skeg” which she sits on and this protects her propeller.

Ilfracombe… Poli Poli 7am the next day… safely grounded “deliberately” on the mud. View over the port side. Tide has gone out!

Mike did not hear a thing. I did as I knew what was happening. Mike awoke long after the “event” to come on deck in the morning light… to find himself high and dry on the mud flats of Ilfracombe. What a strange harbour… what an experience… certainly demonstrated the lifting keel and drying out capability of the Southerly marque.

Well and truly on the mud! Ilfracombe Harbour. Waiting for the tide to come back in and lift Poli Poli off the mud.

Photo above…. on the mud, must get that chain off before we depart Ilfracombe.

At 8.45am after a rise of tide of 2 hours, we had sufficient water under the keel, to quietly depart Ilfracombe outer harbour…. carefully leaving the two yellow mooring buoys behind. I don’t think anyone noticed.

Padstowe to Ilfracombe… distance 60.2 n.miles, duration 10 hours, 538.2 n.miles from Eastbourne.

Tomorrow Wednesday… Ilfracombe to Portishead ( Bristol ).

 

 

 

A short summary of Monday. Finally the red line was lifted and after three weather bound days in Newlyn, we cast off our mooring lines and headed out to sea. A gloomy seascape met Poli Poli …. very poor visibility and fog ( last time was Portland ). Well over the next five hours in quite ‘thick fog, strong winds and rolling seas… we rounded Lands End… one of the most famous headlands of Britain… but never actually saw it. In fact, all the way to Padstow, we did not see St. Ives nor Newquay nor all the coast in between.

Our arrival at the mouth of the River Camel and the entrance to Padstow… was again a scene out of a ghost story… huge black rocks, swirling mists and white breakers shooting in the air as they smashed against the rocks. We navigated the estuary in a 20 knot wind and crossed the Doom Bar just after 8pm. Yes Doom Bar is a beer  you can buy in Tesco’s …. Doom does not mean death and destruction… Cornish for ‘sand’. Poli Poli successfully crossed this mythical sand bar and berthed in the inner harbour at Padstow on the River Camel about 8.30 pm.

For the first time on this trip we had to raft up against a 50 foot steel sailing yacht owned by two brothers who kept it at Portishead ( Bristol ). After tidying up the boat, we got off and headed for the nearest pub in Padstow . As we approached one not 50 yards from the boat… a mighty roar went up, followed by cheering and singing… yes England had scored a last minute winner against… well by the volume of the cheers you have thought… Germany, or France or Spain or….. no, Tunisia in the World Cup.

Photo… Poli Poli rafted up against big 50 foot steel sailing yacht in Padstow Harbour. Note fog outside.

We looked through the window at the jam packed rooms and decided to look for another pub. We found one round the other side of the harbour…. Padstow looked quite an interesting place, Mike sang the praises of Rick Stein… the chef… for bringing  Padstow back to life with his restaurants. We ate a hearty meal, drank Cornish lager… in the quiet and peace after all the football supporters had gone home.

Poli Poli… the evening arrival…. rafted up in Padstow, note fog outside harbour.

After trying to pay our dues at the harbour office in the dark, very tired, we returned to Poli Poli… to be told “youv’e left your lights on!”… yes all our navigation lights were both working and shining out over the harbour basin.

So 65.5 n. miles Newlyn to Padstow, 10 hours duration, and now 478 n.miles from Eastbourne. The journey north had begun. Tomorrow Padstow to Ilfracombe.

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday… what a miserable, gloomy, grey, wet, drizzly morning to wake up to. After breakfast in the saloon, Mike went off to the showers in the Gym Attic and bought his usual Sunday Times. Funny at home… I would spend a good afternoon reading that paper from cover to cover…. took most interest in the Sports section though! Now that I have been at sea for three weeks have not read it once!! I went to the attic Gym later… just in case anybody thinks I don’t shower.

The red line for todays inshore waters forecast has not been lifted…. there is still a strong wind warning out for our area here at Lands End. So three sailing days now lost to bad weather. Now three days behind schedule…. but hey ho this is not a race. We will make that up in the days to come. It was to be expected. This is Britain folks.

Went to late lunch, after jobs… one of which was helping two guys who had gone out on a green and black jet ski… and were swimming back into the harbour… towing it on a very thin piece of cord. The jet ski had been holed somewhere and was taking on water… so they had to get off and pull it in as they swam. We helped them bring it to the pontoon where they climbed out of the sea by way of an emergency ladder.They borrowed our heath robinson plastic milk containers cum bailers to get the water out of the inside of the jet ski. So good deed of the day.

Lunch was taken in the Newlyn Sea Food Bar at the other end of the town… photos below. Excellent food and excellent service…. to be highly recommended.

We both had very tasty fresh Newlyn hake and chips. My dessert above… the Italian version of an expresso coffee and ice cream.

On return to the boat…. well laying on our fronts on the pontoon and getting all the Tresco weed off from around the two rudders. We had carried this nasty stuff all the way from the Scilly Isles back to Newlyn. I had occasion to wonder about the steering… it had not felt as responsive as it usually was. On a previous trip to the Scilly Isles… to New Grimsby Sound… that same weed had got into the engine via the sea water intake and had wrecked the impeller blocking the entire engine cooling system. Josep ( getting married in August ) and Rob ( already married ) plus Margaret and Lyn were all aboard when the white smoke ( which was steam ) came out the engine exhaust back in 2014!

All weed removed, bagged up now and deposited in a fisherman’s wheelie bin looks like an old oil drum ( a fisherman told Christine, who at the time was looking for somewhere ashore to put the boat rubbish …. ‘we’re not posh here dear” indicating the blue old oil drum!

Anyway the day is coming to an end now. I have been rollocked for calling David … Brian… many apologies to a senior RNLI gentleman and good friend…. and have completed the passage plan to Padstow for tomorrow. The red line has been lifted… we sail at 9.30am Monday morning. Padstow here we come. The plan is set out above! We do the bit that sticks out…. it’s called Lands End.