Enter the Canal de Garonne

Stuck at the dock, and no way to shore

[Kyle]We were preparing for a possible departure the next morning when Maryanne, who was outside, was hailed from the bank by a couple of gentlemen in cycling gear. They were Bertrand and Derk, two friends out for their daily ride. Having seen our flag they’d decided to see if we were in. Of course we were in, the dock had no gangway to shore. They spoke good English and after half an hour of chit-chat, they asked “what can we do to help you?”. We told them the rumors of the lock keeper strike and asked if they could find out anything on our behalf (we were still waiting for the tide to be in a decent state to move the boat to a shore side dock). They rode up to the office at Castets and came back with the news that there was no strike. The strike was over last week. They just weren’t working when we showed up yesterday. They opined that the lock keepers would use virtually any excuse not to work. Yesterday, the Sun and Moon must have been in the wrong positions.

The Canal de Garonne is the first of the two canals making up the Canaux de Deux Mers, linking the Atlantic with the Mediterranean.

From Bertrand’s kind call, we determined that the first canal lock could not be opened until the tide was at a suitable state – and would be open at 11 exactly for us to enter. Whew! A few forced hours to relax in the good news and we’d be on our way.

It seems we aren’t the only ones who have access to the correct information since as soon as 11 approached so did 2 other boats, one racing to wake us and pass us into the lock, the other gently approaching behind making for a cozy fit. We were handed paperwork to complete, but when we tried to pay for our water ways pass “not me” was all we could get. With no choice we decided to just keep trying to pay until someone accepted our money, and hope we don’t get tossed into some French jail in the meantime.

The boat that rushed to be ahead of us, actually pulled off after the 2nd lock, and the slower sailboat, left after the first (the 2nd lock was too small for all 3 boats). This left us with the canal and each subsequent lock to ourselves. We’d been unable to find any information at the first lock (we’d expected some kind of welcome pack, with instructions and tips) so we were grateful to bumble around and discover how best to do everything without an audience. Apart from a few locks, this canal is entirely automatic. As you approach each lock there is a pole suspended mid water that you are required to grab and twist, and this sets off the process of preparing the lock for us and opening the gates. Once in the lock, and once secure, another button sets off the process of closing the doors, opening the sluices to adjust the water level and eventually opening the doors at the other end to let us be on our way. Electronic eyes sense when we have left and close the doors ready for the next process to begin. Despite being automatic, the power is turned off after hours, so travelling through the locks is restricted to between 9am & 7pm.

We soon felt comfortable managing the locks, and started to feel really on our way at last. We soaked up the agreeable and very French scenery and villages; shuttered houses, potted flowers in the windows and along the fences, and huddled together villages with steepled churches. The very style of the houses and buildings is so very not British, many have plaster falling off revealing inner brickwork, but it all seems to add to the charm. Chateaux sit atop hills and it is all so very charming. Gardens may be rambling or beautifully manicured, but still seem so French, we are loving it.



Kyle finds a hill to climb!
We were quite surprised at the number of British that seem to obviously live in the area. At one point we stopped at Meilham to climb a hill and admire the view of the river valley below – only to have our lines collected by Brits running the small harbor and boat rental for the town, other Brits rushed out of their dockside homes to wave and call to us, and plenty of canal boats (definitely non-ocean going vessels) sported British Flags, presumably owned by the ex-pat community.

Before we arrived in France, we’d obviously done our usual level of research and reading; almost every guide we read had warned us that the French don’t smile unless a joke as been cracked, and they perceive someone smiling for any other reason as a little slow, imbecilic perhaps. This is strange to us, as although we know ‘city folk’ don’t expect to be smiled at or even to make eye contact, between boaters it is a normal. At least we’d been warned.

However every French person we encounter walking or cycling along the canal towpath, smiles broadly, waves and says “bonjour”; a nice surprise after all our research. Teenagers are, of course, exempt from smiling or being impressed by anything, practising the disdainful look quite successfully. Often after a jovial group has passed us in the opposite direction they only then notice our flag. A double take and then some very overtly congratulatory cheer often follow this; arms pumped, an extra holler, or something. Kyle loves it! We presume it’s not so much that they are fans of America, but we are sailors who have travelled across the Atlantic, and the French do love their sailors, the best of whom are treated as full scale celebrities, as revered as any Hollywood star!

Eventually we found ourselves after hours unable to proceed through the next lock and tied up at St. Christophe for the night. A tiny village in the middle of nowhere really, but we managed to find a restaurant in an adjacent hamlet (Villeton), and sample yet more wine. There were only two other parties in the restaurant as we arrived, and despite the remoteness of our location, one group of 8 turned out to be Russian, the other a solitary ex-pat Brit with a 24-hour pass from his wife (according to him) to go and play on his boat. As the Brit left, after paying his bill and appearing to speak excellent French, he impressed us by then having a conversation with the Russians (in Russian), and eventually coming over to chat with us (having overheard our English), it was amusing to have him guess Kyle was from Shropshire based on Kyle’s accent. Here was us in the heart of rural France, and finding ourselves surrounded by other tourists and ex-pats. After plenty of wine, and a hearty meal, we retired back to the boat for the evening and slept soundly full of new memories.


Canal Scenes

To the Canal

[Kyle]The alarm clock chirped at 2:30am. We ran through all our pre-departure checks and left the marina just shy of 4am. It was completely dark, but we managed to survive the currents and channels, and daylight soon arrived. It was a rather nice trip. The Gironde split into two tributaries; the one we took was the Garonne, and apart from a couple of ships also making use of the flood tide, we had the river to ourselves.

As the sun came up we were passing through the industrial loading docks on the outskirts of Bordeaux. Shortly after sunrise we passed the majestic buildings of Bordeaux’s city center. Away from the center it was very ugly, industrial - the usual city stuff - and unfortunately there was nowhere ‘nice’ to tie up to – so we felt less bad for missing it and sailing by.


An early start, tranquillity and commerce on route
The biggest memory of Bordeaux for us was passing through the spans of the bridge ‘Pont de Pierre’. This is a beautiful, multi-arched, stone bridge and the first that required the mast down for safe passage to get under. We arrived at maximum flood current and found the water pushing at the span supports and creating its own wave systems. Our anxiety increased as we approached. First of all we’ve had many years of conditioning as sailors of looking at low bridges and being unsure that we could really get under (despite the charts indicating we could, it often just doesn’t look like we can until you are already committed). Secondly, the current was carrying us towards the bridge much faster than we were capable of reversing against it. Our only choice might be a 180 degree turn started way before the bridge to give room for a safe exit (but then where would we go?). By the time we were close enough to the bridge to see the enormous current, it was too late to back out – all we could do was steer a straight line and trust the charts. As we rushed towards our chosen (recommended) archway, we could clearly see the water the other side was lower than the water we were in. As we approached the near side, Footprint pitched forward and was accelerated through the log flume ride of the archway; splashing down on the other side. That will surely wake you up!


Bordeaux, picturesque and what a ride!
Eventually Bordeaux center gave way to industrial Bordeaux, and then to countryside as the river narrowed to become an intimate, cozy, rural idyll. Alongside the river we noted campgrounds and holiday homes. Houses with private docks, etc, but the most intriguing feature was the fishing hut - a platform of varying sturdiness, atop posts way out into the river, and with various pulleys and systems suspending a large cone of fishing net. Occasionally we’d see one in use where the fisherman would wind the system up and down using his hands on a bicycle pedal like system. We’ve no idea what fish they sought (and presumably caught) but these shacks and men-caves were common, fighting for space among each other on the shore line and we found them fascinating (at one point we discovered a fleet of rickety looking small fishing boats with the same net system – presumably for those folks that could not secure the water front land required to build their own shack).


Villages and fishing nets on route
We were enjoying the tranquil pass through French countryside when we rounded a bend in the river hit a fog bank. At first I hoped it was just an isolated patch of low visibility, but it turned into an hour of wheel gripping terror. Visibility decreased to a point we could not see the sides of the narrow river, and so low that it was difficult to see debris passing in the water in sufficient time to avoid it, despite our enforced low speed - all adding to the stress. Every now and then one bank or the other would appear out of the fog and we’d use the compass to ensure we didn’t over-steer back into the other bank (the Chartplotter and GPS were also, obviously, a great help); It was perfect conditions for the radar, but this was connected to the unstepped mast, and no longer wired to the boat, as was our automatic horn (we had to resort to a manual compressed air horn). I was very relieved when the fog finally started to ease, both banks again visible, and a few minutes later we were back in glorious sunshine again.

We were feeling very pleased with ourselves having made the best of the tide, looking forward to entering the canal by noon, when the engine sped up and the boat lost power; yikes! We opened up the transmission cover and could clearly see the drivetrain slowing down, indicating that the transmission as disengaging. By reducing the load on the engine we were able to nervously get it back under control, but as the day wore on the slipping occurred at lower and lower power. After much diagnosis, it seems our most likely candidate for a cause was the transmission compartment is improperly ventilated and after several hours of use at normal power begins to overheat, and struggle. I suspect that the installation was never intended for continuous sustained motoring, but without a mast we have little choice.

Since then we have adopted a scheme of gradually reducing the maximum power we expect from the transmission as the day progresses, and so far this seems to be working (no repeats of the problem when we have applied this policy, repeats when we don’t). Of course, all of the stopping the boat in the middle of the river to open compartments and diagnose problems caused us to lose out on our good current on the way to the canal entrance. We approached Castets into an increasingly strong current, which increased our stress levels wondering ‘what if the engine fails now? What is our plan?’ It was with much relief hat we finally arrived in Castets-en-Dorthe, and the entrance to the Canal around 12:30.

Being 12:30 we were not too concerned to find the entrance control traffic lights off (the lock keepers need to take their lunch break), but by 2pm they were still off, and we received no response from our radio calls nor our telephone calls. Eventually I dropped Maryanne off at the landing dock (no mooring allowed) for her to investigate. The office appeared abandoned, and was full of signs of the strike; could it be the strike was still on? Eventually we decided to flaunt the rules and tie up to the landing stage so we could both explore. In our broken French we managed to establish that they were not on strike, but we needed to call someone. There was no response from the intercom system by the door, and none from our phone calls either – eventually our phone credit ran out. Maryanne had purchased extra credit when she bought the SIM card, but had been unable to understand the menu options and actually add the credit. We sought help from a friendly local (again in French), but they too could not establish how to add the credit, but did tell us that we needed to call a freephone support number from a land-line (nearest one in town a couple of miles away at the post office). We had to leave our temporary location as the tide changed, so we moved to a different dock, but then had no access to shore… Hmmm. We conceded defeat and settled in for the night, hoping to start the process again the following morning.


Castets, and the châteaux that stands at the entrance
No-worries, time to open the wine we’d bought in Pauillac and use Maryanne’s new glasses, a leaving gift from her work in Manchester.

Pauillac

A few shots of Pauillac
[Kyle]By 7:30 in the morning, the Marina was abuzz with activity, and we were only hoping to add to that. We need the mast unstepped for the next leg. We located the port captain (Alain), who could not have been more helpful. He spoke a little English, but in broken French, and we were able to explain our needs to him between our English and French. We needed Immigration clearance (for me, the American), we needed diesel and, most importantly, we needed the mast unstepped – today if at all possible. The marina no longer dispensed fuel at the dock due to lack of business, but the Captain offered to drive us to the petrol station with our jerry cans to fill them there. He called immigration and left messages on two different phones (land line and mobile) but we never did get a call back.

As for the mast un-stepping, we were initially told it could not happen that day due to the tide states, but it was soon agreed we could have it done that evening ‘after hours’, and would have to move the boat in a strong current once the area by the crane was accessible – to be prepared we were advised to move to a dock upstream of the crane, so we’d not have to fight the current later. This dock however was in shallow water, and would dry out completely at high tide. It was difficult with the language barrier to get a good understanding of what was happening, but eventually he reassured us it was fine; the bottom was like ‘dentifrice’ (toothpaste). He was great about telling us where to put our fenders and lines to take the pressure as Footprint leaned in against the dock on the falling tide, and left us to it.

Suddenly we were frantic with work, preparing the mast for unstepping, filling water and fuel tanks, adding the finishing touches to our mast support system, and Maryanne ran into town to get French SIM cards for our mobile phones, and a few other odds. Very busy!

As the water drained out from under Footprint and (it turned out) the spot we’d occupied the night before (we hadn’t felt a thing, but you could clearly see where our hulls had previously settled in the mud). On the return from our foray for fuel, we stopped the car to chat with 4 people who Alain clearly knew. He explained to them that I was the ‘American from the Catamaran’ and they each made a point to shake my hand (through the window and past Alain) warmly with smiling faces. Alain dismissed all gratitude for his kindness ‘This is normal for Pauillac’.

As the tide eventually rose, Footprint floated off the mud with a giant burp and it was time to remove the mast. After all the preparation, the actual event was over quickly; the mast lifted, the supports raised, and the mast lowered upon them. Alain, in his helpfulness, kept ‘correcting’ my knots and almost anything else I did. Maryanne was amused and I was trying not to be annoyed at such a nice guy. He asked where we were going next and when we planned to leave. When we told him he began another round of cheek puffing and insisting “c’est une probleme”. I had wanted to leave with the favorable current to get as far up the river as I could, and this required leaving at 3am (dark). Alain seemed to be convinced that nobody could safely navigate the river in the dark and was concerned about our plan. He also told us that the lock keepers were on strike (so French) and that the canals would be closed, so what was the hurry? This was followed by a flurry of phone calls to conclude the strike was now over (big relief).

While I finished the last of the lashing down of our now horizontal mast, Maryanne spent an hour being advised when to leave, where to go next, and how to get there. I truly appreciated all the help at Pauillac marina (even if I ignored much of the advice).

Once the mast-unstepping was complete, and we moved to yet another berth (freshly dredged, no chance of grounding at low tide) to wait for the next low tide and be off. Until then we had expected it would be necessary to leave at high tide slack and wait on a mooring until low tide slack water. Being at a dock meant we had some spare time to explore the town.


Footprint waits on the mud for mast Unstepping, and once complete, for the morning tide to leave - note the giant bottle of wine that marks the entrance to the Marina - wine country!
Despite us both being exhausted, we were determined to use this extra time to explore and find a place to eat. We eventually found ourselves at a Pizzeria/restaurant where we enjoyed a meal made by folks who clearly cared about food. For the local wine, we shared a white wine called ‘Entre des deux Mers’ (between two seas) – it seemed perfectly fitting. The meal was lovely and we were surrounded by the sounds of he French language all around us, which gradually faded until we found ourselves the only remaining clients! We paid our enormous bill, and staggered home, happy to be in France, and slept like babies until the early morning alarm.

Leaving the UK

[Kyle]The time had finally come for us to leave Preston. We were mostly finished with all but minor jobs, so the last day didn’t end up being too hectic. We checked the time of high tide and confirmed it with marina staff and the lock/bridge controller. We all agreed to within 20 minutes of each other, we were set to leave at 7pm, just half an hour before high tide, exiting with the flood-waters along the river to the sea.

We exited the first bridge and into the first lock, and were surprised to find ourselves floating in the lock high above the outer basin which showed itself to be full of mud with just a trickle of water for the channel. The tide comes up very fast in Preston, the wind was pushing away the water, and the neap tides are (apparently) notoriously late. The bridge operator verified how much depth we needed to get through and suggested we would need to wait another half an hour within the lock. We tied up near the boat yard crane to wait-out the half-hour, and spent the time chatting with guys hanging out in the yard. Then, without notice, the water dropped rapidly as the lock emptied. We had expected them to let the water come up to meet us, since there wasn’t any, and had cleated our lines for the wait. We had to rush to un-cleat them or leave the boat hanging in mid air as the water dropped away beneath us. A minor jolt of adrenaline! After a few more minutes the lock gates opened and we wound away along the sliver of water between the mud banks in the outer harbor and found ourselves in the river proper. Once there the water level gradually continued to rise and with the help of a good tail wind and increasingly strong ebb current we made good time into the Irish Sea (the dreaded Irish Sea).


Quite night watches and hitch hikers
The Irish Sea turned out to show its milder side. It took us two tidal cycles to get to Anglesey. The periods of wind against tide were a little sloppy, but not terrifying nor even uncomfortable. Just before rounding Anglesey the wind increased until strong enough that Maryanne had to reduce sail several times (stops her getting lazy). Once around the corner and in the lee of the land things died off and calmed down and pretty much stayed that way two more days for the remaining run down the Welsh and English coasts to Land’s End.


Land's End in the grey distance
We rounded Land’s End just as my watch began at noon. The weather had turned grey and hazy and we were safely far enough from the rocks that it didn’t appear as much else than a grey silhouette against a grey sky. There was just a little contrast with the white tourist shops atop the cliffs. Visually, it was not so dramatic, but it was still a big moment as we slipped past the last few miles of Britain. It brought back memories of our last visit to the area before we went cruising; a windy day several years ago, I was so pleased to find the much calmer conditions for our passage today as Britain slowly faded into the haze behind us.

As we entered the English Channel (at its widest part), the East winds were unobstructed and picked up quite a bit. For the first time in the voyage we had decent winds. It was a bit choppy, but the winds weren’t forward of the beam, so it was just mildly uncomfortable, certainly not unbearable.

Our main concern with the English Channel had been the traffic. The English Channel is the busiest waterway in Europe (being the access route from the Atlantic for most N. European ports and those of much of England). Almost everyone had some alarming story about the continuous stream of ships to weave between on the crossing. In the end we spotted perhaps 4 ships in the Channel, and all well spread apart; During the 2 hours it took us to cross all the marked shipping lanes, we saw no ships all the way from one horizon to the other.

Once on the other side, and coming around the French island of Ouessant (?) our course turned South East into the wind where our ride instantly became more uncomfortable. I was worried this would be our lives for the remainder of the journey, but after a few hours the Bay of Biscay was down to mirror flat seas with barely enough breeze to hold the sails up, much less propel the boat anywhere.

Sitting watches in the early mornings went from being just above freezing (the first across the Irish Sea) to tolerable enough to omit the hat and gloves, and then any physical work at all made the six layer moon suit a little clammy. The daytime temperatures went from cold to sunny shorts weather (eventually).

Our passage across the north side of the Bay of Biscay alternated between slow sailing under all of the sail we could hang and long stretches of motoring. We were visited two or three times by pods of dolphins at dinnertime that seemed to get more playful the further south we sailed. The wind picked up a bit for the last night, before we entered the Gironde, and to avoid arriving on the wrong state of tide we had to reduce sail and force ourselves to go slower. Our goal was to arrive at the narrowest part of the channel/entrance where any current would have the most influence, at slack water.




Calm Bay of Biscay, and muddy Gironde
The Gironde is a very large estuary and drains an enormous amount of murky, silt-filled water into the Atlantic. Its effects can be felt many miles out to sea. For almost 100 miles up the river it has the look and consistency of chocolate milk! Several miles before the actual entrance, and hours before the slack water goal, Maryanne (mostly) got to fight the vicious ebb throughout her watch, sailing hard, but making little real progress. I came back on watch after 5 hours rest to find out we had only progressed 3 miles towards shore, all in very short, steep, waves sailing to windward, the exact conditions where the autopilot was useless and hand steering is exhausting but necessary. Eventually the ebb shifted to flood. At times our speed over ground was twice that of our speed through the water, and we managed to cover the 30 miles between the entrance at Royan and the marina at Pauillac in just 2.5 hours. We were going so fast, in fact, that we arrived in Pauillac before slack water and had to wait on a mooring ball (provided for this exact purpose) until it was safe to enter the marina. As slack water approached we entered the marina (built like a fortress against the raging current outside) and were directed by two friendly gentlemen to an empty slip on the fishing boat dock, and kindly provided with the shower code (it was well after closing time); we made the most of the showers as you would expect anyone who had just spent over a week at sea might!

We arrived!

We arrived in Pauillac and are now safely tied to the dock! One of our first human sights was a woman walking her poodle.

so French!

No Internet connection right now, but hopefully soon. So this is just a quick message via the sat phone.

UK - France - Passage Day 7

Weather: Clouds seem to burn off early in the morning and the days and nights are warmer, so we are expecting another a fine day
today; yesterday we actually wore shorts.

Sailing conditions: More downwind and light sailing, again a bit more motoring yesterday, and seas relatively flat. A little
wing-on-wing with the screacher (our light wind sail) until the wind picks up too much. Not a great fast passage, but mostly easy.

General Comments: Although we are truly appreciating the warmer weather, and the bright sunshine of the day, we are already finding
mosquitoes in the boat by early evening. for the last two nights now! A killing patrol is in order, but I fear we are already
losing the battle; who knows what they will be like once we are actually within sight of land!

The past few nights the bioluminescence trailing off the back of each hull make the boat seem like a pair of rocket ships blasting
through the night waters, it's magical to watch and I hope the millions of creatures we have disturbed forgive us for ploughing
through their waters; they put on a great show. [Kyle] It's not just the boat wake that lights up the seas. What in the day time
are white caps, at night become self laminating flashes for the same reasons, watching the sea is as romantic as watching the night
stars.

Kyle amazed me yesterday by telling me that we have now moved South enough to be at the same latitude as Portland, Oregon (where the
boat hails from). Portland for me always seems such a cold place (compared to France), and it is hard for me to remember that
Britain is on the same latitude as Siberia, given our relatively mild climate (thanks to the ocean currents).

We are nearly there of course, and now we are stalling at the entrance to the Gironde, waiting for slack water to sail up the river
on the flood (with the current); entering on the ebb is reported to be quite treacherous. So far even though we are only 8 or 10
miles from shore, it is too hazy to see land, so no comments yet on the beauties of France.

We are almost there but we'll still not be able to rest and celebrate since our first task will be to prepare the mast for removal
(remove the sails, disconnect all the rigging, no mean feat). We will also have to find officials for the legal procedures of
entering the country.

Food: Salad for Lunch, Pasta for dinner

Progress: Yesterday we made 88.16nm, So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 571nm, and have 45nm (routed line -
to Pauillac now, which includes 29 newly added nautical miles for the adjusted destination) to go.

UK - France - Passage Day 6

Weather: A beautiful day yesterday, sunny, warm, wonderful. This morning overcast, more rain expected.

Sailing conditions: Yesterday was so calm most of the day we made very little progress except for a while under motor. The sea was
so flat it's hard to be sure you are on an ocean, great for sleeping, not for progress and most unexpected for the notorious Bay of
Biscay. Frustrating as it seems the short distance to go is still a LONG way off.

General Comments: All the motoring yesterday gave us a chance to top up all our electronics. This was nice since along with my
French lessons, I'm also enjoying a number of my favorite PodCasts of which I had a huge backlog before leaving the UK (The Dave
Gorman Show, Car Talk, Naked Scientist, The complete guide to Everything, Friday night Comedy, and This American Life; a nice range
of fun, ridiculous, academic, and interesting).

Kyle too has been studying his French; we still can't understand 90%+ of what is said on the VHF radio so it's clear we need to be
studying. He also had a good spring clean of the boat, what a hero.

Food: Chinese Vegetable Noodles for Lunch, Pizza for dinner.

Progress: Yesterday we made 73.56nm, So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 511.29, and have 110nm (routed line)
to go.

UK - France - Passage Day 5

Weather: Yuk. Overcast, Dark storm clouds about and throughout the night; still not shorts
weather. No longer reliably sunny, now alternating between cracks of sunshine and bad thunderstorms.

Sailing conditions: Shifted to upwind, uncomfortable sailing, so with that and the surrounding storms we are holding off and hanging
out. Good wind crossing the channel and the first half day along the coast; Maryanne fought with sails up, down and reefed, storm
gusts over night, etc until the midnight hand over where things really turned nasty. We spent a lot of time with sails down, so our
good early progress yesterday didn't last.
General Comments: With strong off shore winds, we had two birds come and take refuge aboard Footprint, unfortunately one didn't
survive the night and the first left a our point closest to land so we hope he did just fine. All the VHF radio chatter is in
French, and it is obvious we have a LONG way to go despite our months of effort (with the radio static and rapid conversation, we
only understand the odd words).
During Kyle's watch yesterday he decided to change the clocks; well some of them, not all, so we would be on French time. Not only
had he changed the clocks, he'd changed the watch pattern (in his head). He didn't share any of this with me, and seemed upset when
I woke him an hour early since I was using my watch. We could not agree on the right time to use (I thought we'd already agreed to
stick to BST for the passage) so eventually we changed all the clocks and watches on the boat, switched to a different watch sheet
(so we are effectively do exactly the same thing at the same times), and then he decided it was crazy to have changed but 'we've
done it now' [Kyle] Now hang on a minute. I DID tell her I had changed the clocks when I woke her for her watch. It seemed a simple
enough thing to do but the way she reacted, you'd think I told her we were sailing the rest of the way backwards. [Maryanne]And I
swear he somehow stole an hour from my rest/sleep period.

Food: Leftovers for lunch and pasta for dinner, simple, easy, quick.
Progress: Yesterday we made 111nm, So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 406.16, and have 198nm (routed line) to
go.

UK - France - Passage Day 4

Weather: Overcast, light drizzle, thunder and lightning overnight (luckily from a distance, no closer than a mile); still not shorts
weather.
Sailing conditions: Still mostly downwind, currently on a beam reach, mixed sailing mostly with the screacher.

General Comments: More Dolphins to play! Just after I reported not many boats around we noticed a fishing vessel actively trawling
that we would need to avoid. Just as we were trying to understand just how far behind it was safe to pass, it stopped in its tracks.
At first we were unsure why, but we soon decided that it was letting us pass ahead of it. This proved a difficult gift, as the
trawler was still moving, just very slowly, and to pass ahead of it, we still needed to shift to more downwind sailing, blanketing
our foresail, and making our progress slower, as all the time it still edged forwards - collision course. We all came very close,
less than a boat length, and we had to look up at his bow. All the time we tried to call the fishing boat on the radio to confirm
his intention, but without any luck. They didn't come out and swear at us, and after we'd passed they set off again, so I hope we
understood him correctly (otherwise there is a French trawler out there swearing about American sailors).

[Kyle] At about noon yesterday, against a very strong current, we made a very slow pass about 3 miles off Lands End and the Lizard.
It was kind-a cool to see it from sea since Maryanne and I had visited it from land a couple of weeks before we set off cruising in
2008. When we saw it from land it was in March, on a very windy day, and we clearly remember thinking it was not a nice place to be.
The conditions were much better this time and visibility was such that it appeared as a grey silhouette on a gray background - but
still I could recognize it and it was cool to be back, it really does look like a lizard from sea!

At the midnight watch change Maryanne was experiencing a frustrating lull caused by an approaching storm and had clearly had it with
going back and forth on deck to change sails, once she was asleep after a couple of heavy downpours and a lightening show, the wind
came back up again and we were able to start heading in the right direction again. All was well until the morning rig check (we do
two a day during a passage) revealed a line to be trailing in the water; it turned out one of the screacher sheets had fallen in the
water and had now made a hitch (knot) around the rudder. The line could not be pulled up from either direction; eventually the only
solution was to climb down to the rudder and free it from underwater. I did what I could by timing the waves and using a boat hook
(actually 2, we lost one overboard!!!), but eventually I had no choice but to climb to the bottom step and have a wave soak my best
warm socks.

We have just crossed over to the French side of the channel and are passing through the shipping channel (no ships so far).

Food: Salad for Lunch and a seafood soup/stew concoction for Dinner with bread fresh from the oven (no, I didn't make it, just
purchased those half baked ones - so easy).

Progress: Yesterday we made 99.65nm, So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 327.37nm, and have 284nm (routed
line) to go.

UK - France - Passage Day 3

Weather: Not a cloud in the sky for the last 24 hours! Winds are slowly increasing, but it's still and easy-on-the-bones passage.
The temperature is warming, but we are still wrapped up well against the temperature and wind. We are expecting the wind to continue
to increase and possibly a thunderstorm or two later. The seas remain very flat

Sailing conditions: We continue to find ourselves sailing downwind, and when the wind hasn't been too shifty, we've used the
screacher (our light wind forward sail) and often been wing-on-wing. You can see from our progress though it has been a relatively
slow sail, due to the really light winds.

General Comments: Kyle was concerned about our low battery and ran the engine for an hour overnight, but otherwise it's been
straightforward sailing. The Bristol Chanel is a cut running to the river Severn, that divides Wales and Cornwall, and we are
crossing at its widest point (over 100miles). As soon as we entered we were greeted by a small pod of dolphins; they kept falling
back and racing again to catch up with us (we were obviously too slow for them to have too much fun, so they made us appear faster).
Dolphins so obviously alter course to come and play, they are magical, and it beats a day in the office any time. Kyle went forward
to see them at their best, while I steered and squealed with delight and applauded each time I saw them approach

We've seen very little traffic, but every so often there is a container ship on the horizon, we even saw a tall ship in full sail
off in the distance. The radio is a different matter, we can hear calls from multiple coast guard stations and yesterday was a busy
day with 3 separate life boat calls during just one of my watches, including one ship that reported itself sinking and then lost
radio contact (hopefully that is just due to a lost battery and nothing more serious!). Being on watch in such mild and uneventful
conditions leaves plenty of time to do other things. I've been finally catching up with a book about travelling the French canals by
a couple that have gone before us (thanks to cirrus cat), and repeating my French lessons all while keeping a good eye on the empty
sea. Yesterday I was treated to several hours to a coast guard (or military) exercise between a small ship and a helicopter for
hours as they drifted along practicing something as I sailed at a snails pace in the same direction.

[Kyle]Our non-stop passage to France is deceptively long, looking on the map we can see that we're never very far from land, but in
reality on this passage (except for only a couple of glimpses through the summer haze Ð the tip of Anglesey and St David's head) we
haven't seen land at all after leaving the Ribble. This gives the feel of a much longer ocean passage. The distance we'll be
travelling is equivalent (approximately) from Norfolk to Boston on the East coast of the USA. It seems like it should be shorter
since France is "next door" to England after all, but I guess we didn't plan our passage between the shortest distance between them
(Dover - Calais).

Food: Nothing fancy - Fajitas last night, and leftovers (Breakfast burritos) this morning

Progress: Yesterday we made 74.57nm (yikes, the wind is light!), So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 226.44nm,
and have 383nm (routed line) to go. If you've been following on each day, you will have noticed that the numbers don't seem to add
up, this is because we only measure distance through the water and sometimes the tides work with us and against us, also we end up
not travelling exactly on the route we've planned, so a few extra miles are clocked up with that.

UK - France - Passage Day 2

Weather: Clear skys and OK (cold at night)

Sailing conditions: Still more downwind sailing, but wind is now very light, so after a good push yesterday morning, we needed to
motor in the afternoon, and are now sailing along about a slow amble. The sea has been almost mirror calm at times - certainly not
something we've ever experienced here before!

General Comments: Kyle spotted a dolphin this morning! (It didn't want to play, but just got on with its own life). We are so
glad the weather is cleared up (the sun shine helps) but we are struggling with the tides which of course are half the time against
us. Maryanne had one short bout of seasickness Wednesday morning, but Kyle has been fine, the weather is really too mild to be an
issue. I think we are also settling into our watch schedule, especially important for Kyle who only landed from the USA the day we
set off!

Progress: Yesterday (Wednesday) we made 102.53nm, So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 138.88nm, and have 480nm
(routed line) to go.

Food: Last night we had an Indian (ready meal / package); we were supposed to have it the previous night before heading off (always
good to have spicy food to ward off the seasickness... Oops), but I dropped a box of eggs so we had scrambled eggs on toast
instead... Otherwise we've been doing lots of snacking thanks to Dave's graze (a food supply package from a colleague at work) and a
bag of other goodies; we're unlikely to lose weight on the trip.

UK - France - Passage Day 1

General Comments: We left Preston Marina as planned, but unusually favorable winds gave us a problem, it was keeping the water out
of the river, so it wasn't exactly a fast get away while we hung out in the lock! We eventually edged our way out of the shallow
water and found ourselves out to sea before dark.

Weather: Describe weather cool and overcast. Despite summer arriving in the UK, the nights are very cold and we are very grateful
to our enclosure, foul weather gear and hand warmers

Sailing conditions: We've been sailing down wind with the main and screacher until the wind was too much for the screacher - so now
just with the main. With the good winds, we've had a much calmer Irish sea, even now where we are wind against tide, it isn't too
bad (1m high waves)

Progress: Yesterday we made 63.35nm, So far on this trip we have travelled (through the water) 63.35nm, and have 568nm (routed line)
to go.