Cadgwith is some 70 miles south south west of Steeple Point. If you walked the coast from Steeple Point to here, you would have walked approximately 240 miles.
We walked into Cadgwith from Kennack Sands just to the north – a mere two and a half miles on a Saturday morning with a wind blowing and clouds scudding.
I had pencilled-in today and tomorrow for a post-refit shake-down passage to Fowey and back – weather permitting.
It started to rain, the tide was high.
I leaned against the rail at Queen Anne Battery and watched a regular occurrence. Today, it was Hav Snapper turning into the Cattewater from the Sound.
Yesterday I experienced what everyone who has ever owned a boat must feel – that moment when the elaborate and expensive shed you have spent the winter accessing via a wobbly metal ladder reenters the water and comes alive. Continue reading
. . . a birthday treat. The train meandered through Devon – Newton Abbot, Totnes, Plymouth, and on to Cornwall, threading it’s way down the county, stopping everywhere – Saltash, Liskeard, Bodmin Parkway, Lostwithiel, Truro, Par, St Austell, Redruth, Camborne and Hayle, before we changed at St Erth, with time for a coffee in the tiny station cafe. And then Lelant Saltings, Carbis Bay and finally St Ives, to step from the platform into a world discovered by artists long before the holidaying public came to stand and stare, to eat pasties and ice creams and tempt hungry seagulls that know no better.
A post from Webb Chiles in Opua brought memories of a walk we made from Paihia to Opua in April last year.
The walk follows the bays, first across rocks and along a beach, on through mangroves and then along a sometimes wider, sometimes narrower, sometimes rough, sometimes smooth path. We walked comfortably through bush or along the water’s edge beneath the low and somewhat fragile cliffs.
To my last post I added the comment that the qualities single-handed sailors had in common were determination and perseverance. On Wednesday evening I met Jeanne Socrates. I haven’t changed my mind.
In a recent post, Bill Serjeant has reminded us of his Folksong (Zeta), which he passed on to Julian Mustoe. The latter bought her for a specific voyage, totally rebuilding her coach roof and renaming her Harrier. It’s Bill’s story and I will let him tell it – (link below).
The following arrived during the week:
“I was thrilled to find, by chance in your collection, a photo of my Great Grandfather’s boat. The Ethel May was built at Rhyl, North Wales, in 1878 (65 tons) owned by John Kearney of Co. Down. I am assuming it was a schooner? My Great Grandfather, Richard Coppack was her captain. My Aunt was named after the boat, although she always felt it should have been the other way around.
We cycled along the bank of the Rive Exe in the afternoon – a gentle preliminary for a longer ride planned for next month. The tide was low revealing the wide mud flats and the winding channel.. We stopped at the Turf for a coffee before going on towards Exeter.
Beyond Steeple Point 