From Treguir we
headed west in lovely sunshine (finally) but little wind to Les Sept
Isles, seven little islands a couple of miles off the coast, home to
an old fortress and a colony of breeding herring gulls.
After a walk and
lunch we headed into the little harbour of Ploumanach, famed for the
wonderful red colours in the rocks, like us, somewhat jaded by the
weather! Being soft sandstone the wind, rain and sea had carved them
into some wonderful shapes.
It also made a great building material,
used to make this rather super light house.
A little cunning
shopping (much more successful than fishing) bagged us a couple of
fine looking lobsters for tea; Woody did wonder where his was!
In light winds we
motor sailed to Roscoff our next stop. Tides are strong on this coast
as this is the mouth of the funnel where the Atlantic Ocean tries to
squeeze into the English channel with the push of the tide. We
therefore have to pick our times to travel but get it right and you
jump onto a magic carpet doing 3 knots in the right direction. We
were soon entering the channel between the Roscoff peninsular and the
Ile de Batz, a pretty island just off the coast.
The island is known
for its little market gardens fertilized with the local sea weed. We
passed several small boats pulling up huge loads of sea weed in the
channel to be taken ashore for fertiliser.
We anchored in a
little bay off the island where we spent the night. After a walk on
the island the following morning it was time to catch the tide and
journey on.
Anchoring in a
channel causes a unique problem; the tide flows first in one
direction and then the other as the tide changes, no problem until
you introduce some wind. When the wind blows the boat has as tussle
with the elements between lying into the wind or into the tide if the
direction differs which can result in an uncomfortable motion in the
boat. To combat this we put out a second anchor from the stern to
hold the boat pointing in line with the tidal flow; any uncomfortable
swell is then taken on the bow or the stern rather than the side
which would cause the boat to roll. Upon leaving I went to retrieve
the stern anchor by hand but it was firmly dug into the sand, I would
have to use the main winch on the front of the boat. I tied a buoy to
the end of the anchor rope and let it go to be retrieved once the
main bow anchor was up. Main anchor up I drove the boat round and
picked up the buoy and the end of the stern anchor rope but before I
knew it the rope was under the boat because the wind was pushing me
one way and the tide the other. With a rope under the boat I couldn't
use the engine for fear of wrapping the rope around the propeller.
The rocks were 100 yards away and the tide was pushing me towards
them. I waited as the pulling of the boat freed the anchor from the
sea bed but I then did not have enough sea room to retrieve it before
being on the rocks, now less than 50 yards away. We had to move
quickly. I retied the buoy to the anchor rope and threw it back into
the water; the boat drifted off the rope and we were able to motor
away to safety. So far so good but I still hadn't got my anchor! No
problem, I would jump in the dinghy and retrieve it by hand whilst
Melanie motored round a safe distance away.
5 minutes later with
the anchor safely in the dinghy I turned round to see Melanie 300
yards away and drifting slowly away in what was now quite a
significant wind. Was she abandoning me? I waved, she waved back.
Hmm. I waved again and indicated to come and get me. This time,
instead of waving back, up came two crossed arms. Ok, she had a
problem. Oh dear, she was a fair way away and drifting further. Well,
I had two oars and my back was strong once upon a time at least, I
rowed like a demon! Happily I was catching her up.
Climbing aboard
Melanie explained that she could not steer because her rudder was
stuck. Happily it was just a bit of lack of experience. In fact the
rudder was fully over already, it didn't turn the boat because there
wasn't enough boat speed to create the flow over the rudders to allow
them to steer. All she had to do was speed up but she wasn't to know
that – you live and learn! Poor Melanie was a little stressed
having been left in charge of an unfamiliar boat that wouldn't do
what she wanted it to whilst drifting away from her husband in the
process. A little chocolate and relaxation was called for!
A cracking sail (to
windward again of course but at least on the tidal conveyor belt)
took us to Brignogan. We had blue skies the following day; Melanie
wanted a day of 'r and r' – a 'girlie day' as she called it (baking
and painting her nails!), I jumped on my bike and headed back to
explore Roscoff.
We all know it as
the ferry port from Plymouth but in fact it is a delightful old town
untroubled by modern shipping; the ferry port is a couple of miles
round the corner using the Roscoff name as it is the nearest town.
Roscoff became very
wealthy in the 17th century on the back of the smuggling
trade, mostly booze to Cornwall; the English import duties were so
high illegal import was rife.
The other thing to
come out of Roscoff was the archetypal image of the Frenchie on his
bicycle loaded with strings of onions. This is the onion growing
region of France. In the mid 18th century an
entrepreneurial Frenchman took a boat to Plymouth armed with
thousands of onions and a few men to tout them round the streets to
the English housewife. They became very popular and were nicknamed
'Johnnies' by the housewives; the trade spread over the next hundred
years as the Johnies took to their bicycles.
There seems to me to
be a connection here. Our parents generation knew contraceptives as
French Letters which then became a rubber Johny – a connection? –
I wonder!
When I arrived tired
back at the boat I was treated to the fruits of Melanie labour. A
wonderful banana cake, baked in a small gas oven with no temperature
gauge, pretty good going!
No comments:
Post a Comment