Melanie and I
escaped the rain and jumped on a ferry to Guernsey on Saturday
morning. It was a 3 hour trip on the fast ferry with little woody in
his travel box on the car deck. Once back on the boat we planned to
sail over to the nearby island of Herm in the afternoon for a lobster
dinner and head to the north coast of Brittany the following day.
However, with sailing, flexibility is always the key! It was a
beautiful blue sky day with a lovely northerly breeze, just perfect
for a trip to France. The forecast for Sunday had deteriorated to a
rainy day with the wind shifting to the south; it would be a hard
sail into the wind and rain.
It would be a bit of
a rush and a long evening but something of a no brainer – off to
France we would go!
Two hours after
arriving in Guernsey we were fuelled, watered, victualled and off on
the 50 mile voyage to France– croissant in the morning!
We were doing a
cracking 6 knots occasionally pushing up to 7 (its amazing how
excited we sailors can get about touching a speed marginally slower
than I can run!) Wind, sunshine and a pleasant sea – marvellous!
Having missed our
lobster dinner Melanie had stocked up on some wonderful goodies for
our tea as we sliced through the water towards France. The brie,
pate, strawberries and cherries tasting even better when eaten at an
angle of 20 degrees!
As the sun dropped
low onto the western horizon a spectacular full moon rose in the
east, the moon path glittering on the water as the sky darkened.
There are few more exhilarating feelings than listening to the sound
of the hull swooshing through the water watching night settle over
the sea as the sails push you towards your destination.
An inky blackness
settled over the water disturbed only by the odd wave broken either
by the wind or the passing of Moondances' hull.
By 9 o'clock the crew
were below on standby!
The only life was a
few gannets resting on the water, disturbed by our headlong rush
towards them and looking very spooky as they flew off into the night
lit up only by the light of the moon.
The first lights of
France appeared at about 11 o'clock, the blinking of the lighthouses
warning sailors of the approach of this treacherous rock strewn
coast. Much of the danger has gone nowadays as we know exactly where
we are, a little boat marching over a screen showing a highly accurate map; a far cry
from the guessing game of years gone by.
By midnight I was
approaching the first of many green and red winking lights marking
the way into the Treguier river. As I rounded the second channel
marker I was startled by a sudden 'phwooosh'; I looked forward just
in time to see the beautiful dark shape of a very large dolphin as it
arched gracefully into my bow wave. Unable to see where the dolphin
had gone it startled me several more times as it popped up again and
again out of the water over the next half hour.
Gliding silently up
the channel I was flanked by miriad darkened shapes looking for all
the world like anchored ghost ships; these were the ragged rocky
edges of this coastline rising 20 or 30' straight out of the water
that make it so treacherous; there were of course just as many rocks
that did not quite make it out of the water but sat just under the
surface ready to rip the belly out of any unsuspecting ship that
strayed off course.
By 1 o'clock we were
safely inside the mouth of the river and found a quiet spot to drop
the anchor and turn in for the night.
We were soon on the opposite
side of the Treguier peninsular and looking out to see at the red
granite rocks that had formed my ghost ships the night before.
Having
left the bikes to take Woody for a walk Melanie stopped for a touch
of yoga!
This coast is known
locally as 'Le Cote d'Amor' (without the 'u' as in love), something perhaps to do with flying
deer?
On Monday it rained, and rained and rained - a good day to get the boat sorted out.
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