The New Zealand Herald has a report from one of their reporters in Vanuatu this morning – here. The video clip shows the destruction in Port Vila. Sadly, there has been loss of life. I understand wind speeds were in the 300km/h mark.
Yesterday, Webb Chiles carried a photograph of the damage in the harbour and a first hand description of the harbour itself – here
You carefully pilot your ship into harbour at the top of the tide. You wait until the tide goes out and there is clear ground around the ship. Then you bring the horse and a cart to offload into. The cargo is heavy – coal, or slag, so you harness two horses in tandem to haul the load across the beach and up to the stores.
Easier on the eye, easier to read, easier to get round the site in the few seconds you have to spare.
This series of five posts outlines a September passage from Plymouth to Teignmouth and back.
(Click on image to enlarge)
The interruption to my passage plan has meant that I have to get from Brixham to Plymouth, a distance of a little over 40 nautical miles by this evening. This is no problem on paper – but there will probably be no time for fishing. Also the tide will be wrong going round Start Point. I had planned to round the Point, which is about 13 nm along the coast from here, yesterday evening with the tide carrying me, I will now reach it around the middle of today with the tide against me. The wind has gone round to the north east – almost the opposite of yesterday morning.
This series of five posts outlines a September passage from Plymouth to Teignmouth and back.
(Click on image to enlarge)
Teignmouth, low tide, the following morning.
This series of five posts outlines a September passage from Plymouth to Teignmouth and back.
(Click on image to enlarge)
Torquay, early morning. The crew decides to buy us bacon butties for breakfast – excellent.
This series of five posts outlines a September passage from Plymouth to Teignmouth and back.
(Click on image to enlarge)
We leave Salcombe early. The tide will be unfavourable for a couple of hours and the wind is light but we would rather be at sea and will motor if we have to.
This series of five posts outlines a September passage from Plymouth to Teignmouth and back.
My son had a few days holiday owing and wanted to sail. We had a choice of Falmouth or Teignmouth. The wind direction and tides suited Teignmouth. To add interest on the way, we decided to overnight in Salcombe and Torquay. He was going to leave the boat in Teignmouth and I was going to return to Plymouth alone. In the event, we were weather-bound in Teignmouth for a week. A family holiday was imminent, so when the weather eventually eased, I had only a short time to return Blue Mistress to Plymouth. I planned a direct passage to Salcombe, to overnight there and then on to Plymouth. As it happened, I had a major problem off Berry Head which completely altered my passage plan.
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(Click on image to enlarge. Double click magnifies)
If we had had a trip in which we fell out with each other, I would probably not have mentioned this, but we had a good time and I want to acknowledge it.
For a single-hander having someone aboard adds a whole extra dimension. The boat has been set up for one person. Ropes and gear have been placed to-hand and manoeuvers thought through in advance so that much of the routine on the boat has become automatic to me. I’m ahead of the game – most of the time. Few people want to be a passenger on a small boat, they want to be part of the crew. Therefore, having another person on board, someone who will inevitably do things differently, means my having to stand back and create ‘space’ for them to do it. How much space depends on the person.
I am watching the Udder Rock buoy further up the coast. The tide is taking us inshore and I head further out to sea to stay to the seaward of it.
This is the third day of this trip, finally a day of wind, sea and sail. The cloud cover is still low, clinging to the tops of the cliffs. There are no other boats visible and, despite being close to the shore. I can see no one on the coast path.
The early mist had given the harbour a silent, closed feel.
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The early morning sunshine doesn’t last and we are soon back to a windless, blue-grey, engine-powered day.
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Wherever you are, the wider world is never far away. I spy Grace with her magnificent Cornish flag leaving the Maritime Museum pontoons. I admire her lines and recognise a smaller version of Ceres, my grandfather’s Westcountry trading ketch mentioned extensively in earlier posts in this blog.
Beyond Steeple Point 