To the Dart and back

22/05/2018 / Bill

‘Blue Mistress’ still lives. A long winter onshore, a delay of a month while the weather settled and back on the mooring at the end of April – complete with new engine, bigger and, hopefully, more reliable than the previous one. Yes, I know, she’s a sailing boat, but that doesn’t mean the wind blows all the time, nor is the tide always favourable in tight situations.

Last Monday, under strict instructions to be back by Wednesday evening at the very latest (!), I motored to Dartmouth – some 16 nautical miles along the coast. No wind, glassy sea, pure blue sky, high spring tide. Would I have preferred to sail there? Of course. Did it matter that I didn’t? Not one jot.

Berry Head with its old quarries

The passage has three stages – Teignmouth to Hope’s Nose, across the entrance to Torbay, then Berry Head to Dartmouth. The coast is varied and beautiful, from the red cliffs around Teignmouth, to the towns and villages of Torbay, and on to the rugged, grass and gorse lined clifftops towards Dartmouth. The tide was with me all the way. Three and a half hours.

A comfortable night in Dartmouth itself, on an unusually empty visitors’ pontoon – just three other unoccupied yachts. The evening sun picked out the houses of Kingswear, the morning sun shone on Dartmouth town.

The weather forecast gave the possibility of rain and adverse winds on the Wednesday – (there was a time when that would have been fun, but . . .), so the decision to return today, accepting the tide would be against me. But first, how about going up the River Dart to Dittisham?

The boathouse at Greenway – Agatha Christie’s home

The tide is ebbing and I reach Dittisham at slack low water, picking up a visitors’ mooring and enjoying lunch in the heat and quiet of the day.

Dittisham from the mooring

An hour later the tide is turning and I motor as far as I dare upstream before heading back down towards the sea.

The quay at Greenway across the river from Dittisham

Dittisham itself at low water

The Anchorstone – the channel is to the left, a surprising 23 metres on my depth sounder.

‘Grayhound’ is in port – a wave from the hand up the mast, Kingswear beyond

A new shipmate – Berry Head in the middle distance.

The sea was flat, the adverse tide along the coast strong, and eddies and swirls from deep rocks and reefs evident on the surface. It took an extra hour to get back to Teignmouth.

One mile from home, the wind got up, gusting straight out of the entrance to the estuary, throwing up steepish waves and spray against the flood tide. One moment all was peace, the next excitement. I was unsure whether my mooring lines would be free or tangled round the buoy so I had rigged a long bow line bringing the end outside the rigging back to the cockpit. I have two lines attached to the buoy – a short, ‘quick’ line with a loop to slip over the mooring cleat, (instantly holding the boat at the right distance from the buoy), and a longer, stronger one, which, once cleated, will take the weight of the boat. In the event, the lines were flowing free as we shot past. Rounding up into the the tide, for a few seconds we were side on towards an approaching Shaldon bridge – a bridge with no mast clearance.

Now the tricky bit, how much engine to I need to bring her more or less to a halt alongside the buoy, allowing me enough time to go forward with the boat hook, sweep the lines out of the water and slip the loop over the cleat? I approach the buoy, nudging slightly to starboard and go forward quickly. The buoy is now about three feet along the starboard bow and I note we are still moving forward slightly. Pleasingly the boat hook picks up both lines at once and I am able to bring them forward over the bow roller and place the loop. The boat is still moving forward and is beginning to drag the buoy – back aft to put the engine out of gear and allow the boat to drift back with the tide and settle to the ‘quick’ line. Then forward again to make the second line fast, then aft to shut down the engine. All is quiet, the wind is still blowing and the tide flowing but we are safely moored. A great day with a lively ending.

And the engine is good – a Beta 14. A mite ambitious? Perhaps. A tight squeeze into this small boat? Certainly. Anathema to the purists? Without a doubt. But without it I wouldn’t have known the sheer joy of these two days on the water.

(Images by Bill Whateley)

Wind and tide

17/10/2017 / Bill

Our thoughts are with the families of those who lost their lives in yesterday’s extreme weather.

In Teignmouth, we were on the edge of it.

Blue Mistress was snug, but the wind was blowing downriver and the incoming tide made for choppy water. In these conditions, there is a tendency for the boat to ride onto the mooring buoy. This has damaged the bow in the past. Padding the shackle and swivel has helped.

The two rows of moorings in the centre of the stream are swing moorings, the shallower moorings at the edge of the stream are fore-and-aft. The long keels of the Folksong and the Contessa 26 are holding the vessels more or less to the tide, whereas the three fin-keeled yachts beyond them are being swung by the wind.

The effect of the wind against the tide is more obvious here. The wind is pushing the two bigger yachts side on to the tide, hence the heeling. The gentleman aboard the far boat is waiting for it to float.

All the while, the bridge was whistling.

Images by Bill Whateley

Ebb tide

16/10/201716/10/2017 / Bill

Half ebb, spring tide.

Image by Bill Whateley

Between tides

30/05/201730/05/2017 / Bill

On the Morgan Giles slip in Teignmouth. Lines need tightening.

A swift ‘scrape off the barnacles and one coat of antifoul’ between tides.

Images by Bill Whateley

The Exe – 6/6

01/05/2017 / Bill

At the No.8 buoy the channel turns South away from the coast. These final eight buoys – (red can buoys even numbered, green conical buoys odd-numbered), lead out to the Exe Approach buoy and the sea. As I raise sail, a yacht passes, running for the channel. We raise hands, exchanging friendly waves. Ahead of me, a distant yacht is tacking along the coast towards Berry Head.

Early this morning, in the calm of the mooring at Turf Lock, I bent on the light genoa. This is now set and drawing well. The wind has got up and blows from a little West of South, the sea is choppy. The wind will increase this afternoon, but I hope not too much in the six short miles I have to cover. It will be a very close haul to Teignmouth, the contrast from this morning complete.

The yacht ahead turns off Teignmouth and heads out to sea to clear Hope’s Nose on the next tack. I watch the coast go by – Dawlish Warren, Langstone Point, Dawlish, the Parson and the Clerk, Teignmouth. The mainline trains hug the coast. The sun dips in and out behind the clouds. ‘Blue Mistress’ rides the waves with an easy motion. I concentrate on steering her towards The Ness and the entrance to the Teign.

When we get there – (in good time, around 1530), the wind has risen another notch and, if we were going further, I would have had to change the genoa for the working jib. Approaching the entrance, I feel the Captains tensing, gathering together, looking over their shoulders at me – (see ‘The Exe – 3/6’ for details of The Captains). The sea is choppier here, affected by wind over the falling tide from the estuary. Turning into the that wind to drop the sails, my usual slick procedure for dropping the genoa neatly onto the foredeck fails and the leach drops into the sea. I go forward to retrieve it, cursing mildly, my routine broken. By now the mainsail should be down. The boat is bouncing up and down in the sea, the mainsail is flapping wildly, I slip over in the cockpit like a rookie. Eventually the tangle is sorted out and the boat settles down.

In the meantime, The Captains have raised their eyebrows and looked away! But, as I say to them, when things go wrong as they will, a good sailor will deal with them quickly and calmly. So, when I get back to the mooring, (under time-pressure to be home), knowing I have to tidy ship and inflate the dinghy before I can go ashore, only to find the mooring lines tangled tightly round the buoy, you will understand my reaction. (Quickly and calmly, I say!)

These two days have been a ‘wandering’ – some might call it a mini adventure but I don’t believe it qualifies for that. I took two days out to experience The Exe Estuary and to reflect on what it might have been like for my forebears when they took their Westcountry trading ketch up to Topsham and Exeter. I am now back in Teignmouth, which they also visited on several occasions.

For example, on 15th September 1888, the ‘Ceres’, Captain Walter Petherick, master, left Saundersoot in South Wales carrying 82 tons of coal for Teignmouth. She arrived in good time and on 29th September, she left Teignmouth for Bristol, carrying 82 tons of clay. Maybe she berthed at New Quay to offload the coal and take on clay, maybe further upstream. One day I shall find out.

I finally get home at 1730. The day is not over. Two hours later, we are sitting in The Pavilions Teignmouth watching a simultaneous broadcast from the National Theatre. In 1966, Tom Stoppard wrote a play around two minor characters in Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, namely “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead”. Peggy and I first saw it an unbelievable fifty years ago. The word-play is as enjoyable today as it was then.

Still buzzing from my two days on the boat, I wonder how my great grandfather would have thought of this play. Was he in a position to have seen any of Shakespeare’s plays? Would he have wanted to? And what about my great-grandchildren? Will they enjoy some future production with its fast word-play? Times change. Today we are able to share laughter and sighs with audiences across the globe simultaneously, something we never even thought of in the 1960’s. How will they be viewing such plays in future – a hologram in the round perhaps?

Or will more mundane matters concern them – the erosion of tolerance, patience and respect in our political relationships; the effect on our lives of the change in weather patterns? Speak up now, there’s plenty to do.

Images by Bill Whateley

The windvane – four short clips

29/07/201629/07/2016 / Bill

The windvane on Blue Mistress was damaged at the end of last year. A small yacht misjudged leaving the visitors’ pontoon in Dartmouth and ran onto it – “altering the shape” of it. This year I have been watching it closely in different conditions to check there has been no lasting damage. I took these short clips off Teignmouth earlier this month.

The wind was gusting strongly – (note the untidy lines), and I thought I’d record the effect of the gusts on the self-steering gear. In the second clip, the boat is heading higher than I wanted. In the third clip, I have adjusted the windvane to correct direction. A stronger gust then brings the boat up into the wind. In the fourth clip, I have adjusted the sails slightly. This works.

Video clips by Bill Whateley

A boat in Teignmouth

04/05/2016 / Bill

I have been getting used to new surroundings – new for Blue Mistress that is. No longer the city of Plymouth, but the town of Teignmouth – two ports, different aspects.

We too have wharves . . .

and buildings along the water’s edge . . .

and good pubs.

The entrance is interesting with shifting sandbanks meaning work for the dredger . . .

The sailing is less crowded . . .

Teignmouth is not only a holiday resort but a working port . . .

Vessels negotiate an awkward entrance.

Once in, their presence “alters the shape” of the town.

They continue the long tradition with this as with every other port – looking outwards, trading with other ports, both home, as with Celtic Ambassador, and abroad . . .

I am going to enjoy sailing from here.

(Images by Bill Whateley)

From Plymouth to Teignmouth – a new mooring

19/04/2016 / Bill / 5 Comments

Blue Mistress and I left Plymouth early on Saturday morning.

The wind was favourable but the tide was still ebbing at the Great Mew Stone . . .

. . . and would be against us until Bolt Head, where the tide would turn but the wind would begin to head us. Both wind and sea rose at Start Point and pushed us further out sea before we tacked back towards Dartmouth, arriving just over nine hours after leaving Plymouth.