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Orca

Later, I saw what I thought was a seal behind Captain Rhys's back about 40 metres away, and it started to dive a second or two after I saw it. 

Bizarrely, although the front of this hump kept sliding into the water, the back of the hump kept coming out of the water - and it just seemed to go on & on. 

I thought it looked like a huge eel or serpent (or even the Loch Ness monster!) but Captain Rhys suggested it sounded like a Minke whale. 

The first few seconds of this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x71jRz8pSL8 is almost exactly what I saw (although it seemed to go on for longer).

The next day we proceeded to Milford Haven and anchored in Dale between a couple of other yachts, one a 100m to one side and the other a 100m to the other side. 

During the night, the wind changed to a fairly brisk ESE and, with a 2 mile fetch, the waves were a couple of feet high. 

There was no sound of a dragging anchor but, on my last visit to the cockpit before bedding down, I noticed we were passing one of the other boats! 

Over the next five minutes we moved at least another 50 feet - so we had clearly dragged, and were continuing to drag the anchor. 

Had I not noticed this, we would almost certainly have ended up on the beach, or possibly hit another boat on the way. 

We decided the best thing to do was move onto a nearby mooring and, by the time we'd done this, dawn was just breaking.

Later in the morning, we moved up to Neyland where, shortly before rounding the corner to the Neyland yacht haven marina, there is an excellent [council owed?] pontoon, that we stayed on for the rest of the day and night (for free) and obtained provisions whilst ashore.

The following morning we bought some diesel & chandlery and then motor-sailed out of the haven, passed Skokholm island and then cut through Jack Sound (which is to the east of Skomer Island). 

The channel is narrow, probably less than 200m wide, and had a fair current running through it. 

Having a plotter to confirm our progress through the middle of the channel was reassuring as it was quite choppy and there were a lot of rocks and breaking water fairly close by on both sites. 

After passing the sound, there were still overfalls for another mile or two. 

We then sailed 340 degrees tight into the wind for another 7.5 miles to Ramsey island but, as the wind was NNE we delayed going though Ramsey sound and, instead, anchored for the night in Porthlysgi bay (yet another beautiful and peaceful place to stop).

The wind was still adverse the following morning, so we stayed put until later in the afternoon, when it died down to a more acceptable strength and direction. 

During this time a small RNLI lifeboat came over, just to say "hello'. 

We'd slid a 14-pound weight down the anchor chain for good measure when anchoring, but when we tried to retrieve this (and the anchor) we had a devil of a job getting it up as the chain and the weight seemed to be caught on something immovable about 10 metres down. 

After a lot of motoring around it eventually came free, so we think the chain had been caught under a rock or boulder or something. 

We then motored through Ramsey Sound against a two knot current - probably a little stronger as we passed 'The Bitches', and we then talked about the Bitches for quite a long time, for some reason or other. 

The train from Fishguard back to Chepstow was rather quicker and smoother than sailing the other way, taking just 4 hours. 

I couldn't find a taxi at Chepstow station, so hid my bags in some bushes and then walked to Mathern where I fortunately bumped into Wayne, who kindly offered me a lift back to the pill, where I'd left my car.

All in all, an excellent finish to a very pleasant week.

Bank Holiday at St Pierre Pill, August 2022

A busy weekend at St Pierre Pill as boats from Thornbury and Lydney call for picnics and overnight camping.

Photos courtesy of Darrell Holland

Sail up the Wye  to The Boat Inn

12 Sept 2021

Photos courtesy of Darrell Holland

Holms Race 2021

Three boats from CDYC completed the course.

Found immediately that the tide was still running albeit gently, and scrambled to get hold of the ladder. (memories of years ago when something blew off the boat while anchored at Penarth, after diving in and getting hold of it quickly, had the swim of my life to make the 30 or 40 ft to get back to the boat, again only 1/2 a knot of tide running).

From a locker, found a light piece of 6mm polypropylene rope which I doubled and tied to a fender making a 30ft floating lifeline trailing behind the boat with the tide.

Had another dip in the morning at slack tide where I found that I can no longer swim, so doggy paddled around the boat a few times for physiotherapy. 

The next two days I had terrible stomach pains, which I had already deduced to be a bit of sunstroke, oh forgot to say, when I went ashore I'd replaced the dirty dishcloth on my head for one of the club knitted hats which Ros and Dave Downs got for us, that I'd found.

So for the next two days I slept, got up and drank mugs of boiled water with an occasional Garibaldi biscuit , (I'll take any sympathy going).

The next day, felt well enough to doggy paddle around the boat a few times again, as I started to feel a lot better.

I then having sussed that there was no traffic on the road at all, kept the remainder of ice cream in left hand rode across the road, aiming to find another part of the front that I had not yet seen 15 meters ahead, a bend in the road to the left, I saw the front of the car as it came around the bend. 

Me being tight on the narrow double yellow lines, up against the narrow pavement, the car cut the corner on the wrong side of the road and accelerated. 

I could not believe it as the car ploughed straight into me and my bike. (I'll take any sympathy going). 

I felt my bad hip hit the wing and my shoulder hit the windscreen and in that moment had time to think that's me done, I'm in pieces and heading for a lengthy hospital stay and my bike is a write off. 

Within 2 or 3 seconds there were numerous people around me, helping me to my feet checking I was ok. 

I realised incredibly that I was still in one piece, then went to my bike. 

The car's bumper was split and hanging off, my bike's crossbar holding clip had jumped off and folded itself. 

There was not a mark on it. Unfolded back to riding position, all electrics working. 

I kept thinking, after, that was my lucky day. 

The people there were kindness itself, I had a cut finger and a sprained wrist which came on later that night but that was all. 

The driver seemed concerned, but also glad to get out of there. One lady gave me a photo of the car’s number and offered to be a witness.

So I still only got to eat half my ice cream after all.The weather forecast began talking of heavy rain by the weekend, so the next day (Thursday) time to head back.

Could have got into Barry that next evening but chose to anchor in Penarth bay again for the night, as I thought it would give a head start the day after, even though an early start would not be possible, because high water was around 7 that morning.

Probably the worst night's sleep of the trip, and about 6am the boat rocked and rolled violently. 

Got out to see what had gone past, but could not see what had caused it. 

Something similar to a tug I had guessed. 

It may have loosened my anchor because by an hour after high water I realised I was going out with the tide.

I packed up the best way I could and tried motoring against the tide but it was full moon spring by now, and I could barely stand still. 

I just gave up, turned the boat around and steered towards the middle of the channel. 

Aware that the forecast that morning was 5-6 perhaps 7 for a time, North East, psyched myself up for a long, not too pleasant ride back home. 

It was gone 11 am before the boat stopped going back and began to slowly make way on a tack that was taking me in the direction of Bream, a few more long tacks before finally had got between the Holms, had considered going around Steep Holm, but decided against it to come inside. 

Well you can guess the rest. 

It blew up, over the incoming tide, and zig zagging across the channel, by the time I was between Weston and Cleavdon, the strong wind was at its strongest. 

I saw several sailing boats heading for Portishead, all under power.

I strongly considered going in there myself to stay until the morning, and went right into the mouth of the harbour, but realised I still had plenty of time before high water so turned tack and made it under the bridge and up to the mouth of the pill on the same tack.

Not the conditions I was looking for, but the boat brought me back through it yet again.

Safe and enjoyable sailing all.

Walter

The Always Ready

Craig and Sheila enjoyed an overnight stay at St Pierre Pill, with the vessel settled level at low water. (Photos by Darrell Holland)

The Always Ready is a Liverpool class lifeboat built in 1933 by J Samuel White, Cowes, Isle of Wight. 

She is of double diagonal construction, mahogany on oak and has a Lister diesel engine model 1PWS4. 

She was built as the Runswick lifeboat and operated there until 1953. 

In 1934 the name was changed to Robert Patton The Always Ready after the loss of the Coxswain in a rescue. 

In February 1934, the Runswick Bay lifeboat The Always Ready, then just one year old, was launched to go to the aid of the steamer Dispenser.

It was a mission from which her 46-year-old coxswain, Robert Patton, never returned. He was crushed to death after diving into the water to try to pull a disabled seaman aboard.

He was posthumously awarded the RNLI's highest honour, the Gold Medal for Gallantry, and to honour his memory the lifeboat was renamed Robert Patton - The Always Ready.

Sold out of service in 1954, she became the Sharpness pilot boat until 1978. 

Now she is back in the water, on the calmer Gloucester-Sharpness Canal, after being brought back to pristine condition by boat enthusiast Craig Glassonbury.

He looked longingly at the old lifeboat for more than two years as she languished in the Gloucestershire boat-builders where he is yard manager. 

And when he discovered the lifeboat's astonishing history, he bought her in March last year, and began the restoration.

Craig and his partner Sheila have returned the vessel to pristine condition as a motorsailer  - and the RNLI have given their permission for the boat to revert to her old name.

https://www.nationalhistoricships.org.uk/register/2324/always-ready

SARA Sea Survival at St Pierre Pill

Many thanks for allowing us to use your facilities yesterday for training, here are a few of the pics taken in St Pierre

I also added a few pics taken at Beachley slipway, please use these if you wish on your social media feeds

David Deveney SARA

 September well under way, the sailing season suddenly evaporating at an increasing rate, will this be another year for Whittington to be squeezed out of a chance to get a sail she has been waiting for, for a few  years now.

With the extraordinary year of restrictions and lockdowns it has been difficult for everyone to prepare and sail their boat, not to mention to cover the club’s essential maintenance tasks, that somehow seems to have been largely covered.

That said as much preparation as possible done on the boat, with only the rudder to repair as the last job, and the usual ultra scrutiny of weather forecast for the week ahead, by, a week ago Monday, (14th) saw the path as clear as it appeared to be going to be, and got ready for the off. 

Having finished repairing the rudder on the weekend, put the boat on the pontoon on Monday and came back that evening with the last bag of stuff, dry jumpers, socks and jeans, along with a bag of potatoes, two packets of bacon, about 8 eggs, loaf and quarter of bread, biscuits  etc., slept on the boat that night.

All seemed to be going to plan so far, if not better, that is to say the plan being, to make this as uneventful and easy a trip as could be, being reminded by the nagging pain in my right hip and the weakness it presented me with.

Stayed close-ish to the Avon coast and eventually took a tack between the Holms, and by this time I had decided to settle for anchoring in Cold Knap bay for the night, in keeping with aforementioned plan not to try and over reach myself. 

By the morning light, I could see that I had dragged a little, but because there was no abatement of the wind, that little proved to be very troublesome indeed. 

I was more exposed now to the full force or the wind, the tide now turned back as well, now I could see the coastline visibly moving. 

It is a fairly wide bay, so the West side was still quite a way away, but I could see what looked like two wooden scrubbing posts close in and at that west side.

I kept looking at them, and sure enough, they were getting bigger, therefore nearer. 

I tried to think, what was I going to do now? 

Was I going to wait until I got close enough to the posts, if I did happen to keep in that direction and try to lasso one or something? 

I had turned the outboard engine on and sent it in gear with the hopes it would slacken off the anchor rope enough for me to try to retrieve it.  

This meant of course I had to get and kneel down at the bow of the boat even getting there was a challenge, the rolling and rocking, 

I had a rope tied in the cockpit, the other end clipped on my life jacket and then hooked over the cleat on the mast as I went forward. 

Trying to pull the anchor rope though was hopeless, too much pressure from wind and tide, looking back behind me the posts were getting nearer. 

Got back to the cockpit, reached into starboard locker to get a small grappling hook type anchor, not really having much of a plan but went for a brand new coil of 50m 8mm rope out of the other locker, I was moving as fast as the proverbial fiddlers elbow now, grabbed a knife to cut the twine off the coil of rope, within 5 seconds I had what looked like an Eagles nest of tangled rope in my hands. 

I discarded that and went for a neat coil of orange rope, attached it to the grappling hook and threw it over the port side bow quarter. 

I watched the rope end up at an angle parallel with the stern as soon as throwing it in.

The posts were seriously getting close now, less than 200m I guess, the engine still running I went back on the anchor rope and pulled in, timing with dips of the boat, a foot at a time for what must have been twenty minutes or more before finally the start of the 8 meters of anchor chain, almost vertical now and pulling easier, I retrieved the remainder. 

Got back in the cockpit, opened the engine throttle, shoving the tiller hard over to bring the boat out to port in the direction of stream and slowly pulled out toward the green buoy on the western  outskirts of the bay, the boat bucking and dipping. 

Unfortunately, the bucking and dipping was so violent now that the engine got submerged completely.

It kept running but after the third submerging, it cut out. 

No matter, (got outboard no.2 stored forward) well out of the bay now, get the rope on my harness in hand ready to make my way toward the mast and get some sail up. 

Got the main up and settled for that. 

Wind over the beam now, but of course the spring tide running freely.

Mind was made the evening before that it was time to start heading back home now, long range forecast was no more appealing than the short range.

This was an uncomfortable crossing, very choppy, and although my plan yet again was to try to anchor in Cold Knapp, on the chart this looked the most sheltered position from that North Easterly “6 occasionally 7”, but yet again, I could not beat the wind and tide. 

For hours I was staring at Port Talbot, Nash point, even the Gower did not look far away, the lack of sleep from the night before catching up, causing me to feel like dropping off. 

Nothing seemed to be drifting West, I was really feeling down now, ”don’t I know anything about sailing?” thoughts toward our Maker,  “please get me safe for the night Father”. 

I thought there would be no problem getting into Cold Knap that day, but did not expect it to take all day. Against this strong wind and billowing sea, I did not finally get into the bay until after dark. 

Had to be hyper vigilant entering the bay, was I going in too fast? 

Was I too close to that headland (rock) on the right. 

Hard to see anything, got the jib sheet down in the cockpit with me in case I needed to try to stop quickly, got the grappling hook ready in case an extra brake would also be useful. 

As it happened, outboard number  2 cut out, but not before I had got the essential shelter behind that headland (rock).  

Let the anchor rope out and was surprised how shallow the water was, so position was ok.  

I could still feel the weather activities outside.

The following morning, guess what, no time to relax again as although the anchor had held all night , I was now drifting backwards towards the cement works. 

Had to go through the same routine, rope clipped on harness, get up forward, hook rope over mast cleat, and pull a foot, or less at a time, going with the dips of the bow, slowly bringing in anchor rope. 

The concrete tower near the cement works, which was not visible from anchorage, now looming nearer and larger. 

Eventually my anchor and chain were back on the boat looking like polished silver, then began the day’s sail.

One long tack of several hours got me through the holms, in fact just going through there, a boat, I estimated 35ft, overtook me inside, in other words, pointing to wind better than my boat, and going faster.

This is something I have got used to.

I watched it go ahead, and wondered whether it was going straight to Weston, but eventually it did turn tack, so I continued as far as I could, it made sense, as I would have to put another tack in before the sand bank opposite Rumney, but found myself in some very choppy overfalls, not the ones marked on the chart opposite Weston, a little further North, but clearly shallower ground. 

Very disconcerting, I thought, and acted on getting out of there as quickly as possible, gybed the boat which went wildly round, the sea level itself over the cockpit something broke on the mainsheet jammer, one of  the toothed cams had lost it’s spring which meant I had to place it by hand the rest of the way home.

I had perished any thoughts of trying to get to Chepstow on this tide now, and made for Newport where I would spend the night on their pontoon.

They seemed quite happy for me to maintain my heading, though I did keep looking back, then just back, almost alongside, we were all going at about the same pace. 

I kept outside the Port buoys ready to back away, but the distance remained the same.

As I got to the position where I would have to come across the front of them to continue up the Usk, I thought “no” if I lost my wind from the turn, then  tried to fumble getting the engine running, “NO”. So backed off to Port and they seamlessly glided on by and were in the dock within a few minutes.

The following day I decided to have a good look at both outboards, so did not get off to an early start.

On outboard no.2 a loose fuel connection on the fuel pipe which was sorted with a little shoelace thickness bungee I had on board. 

The outboard number 1  which was the one that got a few dunkings, I had got the drainplug from the float bowl and got a good bit of water out. 

Though that procedure had to be repeated 3 times during that final day before it was all out. 

The first time was about 3 miles outside Newport, It cut out again. 

I knew that I would have to anchor for a few hours before starting the return trip to Chepstow, not wanting to go up the shoots too early like I did last year. 

So there I was anchored on Peterstone flats with the depth gauge showing 4.5 meters. 

This was 2 hours before low water. 

I estimated that I may just about have a bit of water left under the boat at low water.

I decided to cook something as I felt weak, so boiled potatoes and 3 eggs, and watched the gauge go down as I ate. 

There came a securitae, securitae message on the radio from the coast guard warning mariners that there was about to be a controlled explosion on Weston beach in a short while.

The timing would have been exactly at low tide.  

So after lunch, the gauge showing 0.9 m, I got the grappling hook and threw it into the water to  check the depth. About 3 tenths of a second after hitting the water it made a thud on the sea bed. 

So now I know that the depth gauge is set for water surface and not from below the keel.  

The boom came on time and it was a lot louder than I expected, good one.

I was not looking forward to the next part of the trip, totally unfamiliar territory in the dark. 

But because of the spring tide, the first obstacle was making sure I did not get washed up onto the long and double sandbanks. 

There was enough light to see that my outboard as well as mainsail (only) was only just enough to keep off them. 

Maintaining a heading that meant the boat was pointing to Flat Holm, was the only way I very slowly kept a line until I was far enough over the channel to be safe from the banks. 

This was kept up for over an hour. 

At last I was nearer Clevedon, and able to turn the corner. 

After going under the bridge, realised that I could not keep the light on the rock lined up with blue lights any longer, and basically headed for the bank, until thank goodness, I came out of the stream into the slacker water. 

Did not miss that light by much either. 

The entrance into the pill channel was pitch black and, not wanting to get too close to the boats, which I could now make out, ended up getting stuck on the mud bank. 

Repeated that manoeuvre 4 times before I finally held my nerve to get close enough to the boats whilst at the same time not driving up on the bank.

Safe sailing all,  

Walter

Back to sailing.

The increased ability to enjoy outdoor activity will be welcomed by the boating community, and means that those with direct access to their boats may use them with members of their household, within five miles of their home.

Equally important is the imperative to boat safely, well within the levels of your ability, and avoid placing unnecessary strain on the RNLI and emergency services.

The guiding principles through the lockdown still remain, Don’t catch the little nasties, but if you do, don’t give them away to others.

How to: 2-meter social distancing and keep your hands clean.

At the Pill: 2 metres distancing is easyish, keeping the hands clean is more difficult:

You should think that anything you touch have got viruses attached, preferably try to disinfect what you are about to touch, and then disinfect your hands directly afterwards.

To get to the club, you will touch 2 gates, one of them with a lock. You open the gate and if you don’t disinfect your hands you might well introduce the virus into your car as you drive through. You have to do the same again as you close it.

For those who have got a dinghy, oars, engine or fuel-can in the container, you get one go at getting it out, and for the near future you should take it home after use. That will minimise the potential transmission of the virus. 

 Think the same: viruses on what you touch, so try to disinfect before you touch, and disinfect afterwards. Disinfect the key, it has got viruses.

The clubhouse should otherwise NOT be used. That includes the water and the toilet. The stopcock is virtually impossible to disinfect, partly due to texture and partly due to where it is.

To disinfect there are products on the www-market: alcohol 70 % wipes. Some come in tubs where you pull out one at the time. Be aware that the alcohol evaporates every time you open the lid, and you might not get efficient use if there are a lot in each packet. A tub should be better at sealing the alcohol than a plastic pack.

There are smaller wipes prepacked in sachets as you would get on an aeroplane. Probably the better option.

I am sure you have got the idea by now. Let us take responsibility together for stopping the Coronavirus.

Ingrid 

Commodore

AGM

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