Dolphins! I love them so here is a short video taken in the summer of 2011.

 

An Irish Adventure

An Irish Adventure

August 2010

This was our first major holiday on Nomad, our Moody S31, since purchasing her last year on the South coast and bringing her to beautiful ‘Costa Del Conwy’ (so named because of the usual clement weather). Our plan was to visit Northern and Southern Ireland, with a particular focus on Strangford Lough following an article by Dick Durham in February’s Yachting Monthly.

On leaving Conwy on Saturday 14^th August, the wind was northerly so Plan B was employed; to sail to the Republic first. On the approach to Lynas Point we plunged into what Graham calls a ‘confused sea’. Confused? More like ‘psychopathic’! There were huge waves in all directions causing Nomad to pitch and roll and for a change, we got wet. On the Northern coast we came across further ‘confusion’ off Middle Mouse, Carmel Head, Holyhead rocks and other swirly spots in between before finally arriving at Holyhead.

Our boat, Nomad

By 6am, we were off again, heading West to Ireland. We were very lucky with the weather which was sunny with 12 knots of wind and a fair tide to give us an average 7 knots across the ground for the first four hours. We had several opportunities to try out the new AIS as there were a few ships crossing from the North and South and several ferries passing within a couple of miles, some going at 30 knots.

Ahead of schedule, we arrived at Howth at about 4.00pm and had time to walk the length of the sea wall in the last of the sunshine along with hundreds of other folks who were out for the day to do just that. After watching a soothing sunset through the masts and shrouds we headed for an early night. Tomorrow is a rest day.

Breakfast in Howth was a sunny outdoor affair, where we watched in admiration as a three man American & Canadian crew set sail from the pontoon next to us in a racing yacht. They were practising for a week of World Class racing the following week.

A short train ride took us to the centre of Dublin, which was as vibrant and cosmopolitan as I had expected, with grand official buildings and mundane traditional ones in equal measure. With a map and guide book from the Tourist Information centre we found our way to the Temple Bar area and settled into a popular public house called ‘Oliver St John Gogarty’ to sample the local Guinness and Irish music.

A North West forecast on Monday gave us chance for a scenic walk along the beautiful cliff paths on the Ben of Howth during which we could see across Dublin Bay to Dun Laoghaire marina and the towers in Dublin docks. In Howth harbour, tourists regularly feed the local ‘harbour’ seals with fish bought from the local fishmongers.

As the wind changed to the SouthWest on Wednesday, we set off on an uneventful but pleasant sail North. But it turned out to be anything but mundane. For the first three hours we sailed along nicely in a F3 /4. It warmed up nicely but then as the wind died we began attracting little black flies into the cockpit. A plague of the ‘critters’ followed us in a dense cloud off the starboard pushpit and then descended upon us. Black bugs clung together in globules on the cockpit sole, they clung to the sheets and covered the sails in millions of little black dots. It was horrendous. Rain clouds had been gathering pace down the Irish Mountains and we were hoping they would reach us soon and wash away the infestation.

Well, the rain did arrive, and how! It brought with it a sudden 30kn gust, which made us broach, as the autopilot couldn’t hold it. Graham quickly took control and we let out some sail to spill the wind. For the next ten minutes it lashed it down, the raindrops hitting the seas surface so hard it made it look solid. With the passing of the rain cloud, the gusts went too and we were left with millions of black corpses floating on the decks and cockpit sole. Needless to say, the first job we did on arrival at Carlingford Lough marina was to hose down Nomad and brush up bug remains from indoors.

The new marina building at Carlingford was new and modern but the marina itself was scruffy, not least because it was built from unfinished concrete blocks with the steel reinforcement still sticking out of the top, Greek style. Graham spied an otter fishing in the entrance to the marina. We both saw it clearly as it came up with its catch and floated on its back to devour it.

The mist and clouds seemed to roll down the mountain sides as we followed the ebb tide out to sea; Northern Ireland on our Port side and the Republic on our Starboard.

As we sailed across Dundrum Bay and towards the lighthouse at St. John’s point the wind strengthened to 16kn with gusts of 20, and we were going very well on a beam reach, touching 7.7kn at one point as we surfed down a wave.

A fish and chip supper was a welcome change at Ardglass where we spent a rocky night aboard, even in this very sheltered spot. The forecast was for a severe gale warning of F11 in the north but we were feeling the effects here. Needless to say, Friday was spent in port, where rain, high winds and a foghorn later gave way to a beautiful sunny afternoon.

I was a little apprehensive about leaving the calm waters of Ardglass marina on Saturday morning as I could still see waves breaking on the rocks at the harbour entrance. I had also been dreaming about the enormous standing waves that awaited us at the mouth of Strangford Lough.

The SW F 4 /5 blew us North along the coast with just the Genoa, although we were rolling a bit on the swell. We arrived at the Narrows at 10 o’clock and began negotiating the complex navigation into the lough, still under sail. As we passed the red and black turbine, which looked perfectly harmless, we began to feel vibrations in Nomad’s hull and could hear a whirring sound coming from below; signs that the turbine was indeed working.

Strangford town looked quaint with its coloured buildings along the sea wall as we passed on 6 or 7 knots of tide. Then the lough opened out in front of us; a vast lake spreading for 20 miles with masts dotted about along the shores. The expanse of water was deceivingly innocent though, as many reefs and hills lay dormant below the surface, waiting to rise up and ground us on the next low tide.

After consulting the pilot book and Dick Durham’s article, we decided to head for Quoile Yacht Club. Today was Saturday and we decided to take a chance on it not being too busy and motored towards Town Tower at Killyleagh. Later we were told that it was so named because everyone in the town had hit it at one time or other.

We passed ‘Telletubby’ like hills with ‘Simpson’ clouds and grazing cows before the water stopped abruptly at the Quoile dock. It was indeed quiet and we were able to moor alongside the pontoon where we received a very warm welcome.

However, we also received a warning! This particular weekend was the club’s annual racing regatta and there would be many boats arriving after the racing, with a barbecue and party to follow. We were invited to join in, which of course we did, and had a wonderful time. Who needs quiet?

It was late morning by the time the somewhat jaded racers got themselves together for the day’s racing and we eventually followed them down the channel back to the main lough, past the starting line and the Town Tower. We continued North and navigated between the hills past Ringhaddy. The navigation was tricky but worth it for the fascinating views.

Whiterock

Having helmed under sail all through the islands and along what they call roads, I decided I would berth Nomad alongside the Downs Cruising Club pontoon at Whiterock. Graham made a joke about the boat already alongside being a Moody and therefore wouldn’t mind if I bumped into him. He was right! The kind gentleman even offered to run me to the local shops if I needed anything. All this after me bumping his stern with mine. Oh well, ‘You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs’ as the saying goes. I just hope I don’t break too many boats or friendships in my quest to becoming a good helmsman.

Once again the Northern Irish welcome was warm and very friendly. The Downs Club house is in an old lightship which was bought for scrap and towed by the members through the Narrows and up the lough. It now houses the club’s facilities including the bar and very unusual function room. Nothing was straight or level but the quirky nature of the surroundings made it all the more fascinating.

The entrance into Portaferry’s marina is particularly hazardous because the full force of the tide rips past the very narrow entrance. Graham made a brilliant job of it, ferry gliding gently into the marina, and coming alongside the pontoon. The crew was pretty good too! We later made plans for an early start to the Isle of Man, leaving the Narrows on the last of the ebb tide.

Remember those standing waves I dreamed about? Well today we got a taste of them. Leaving Portaferry marina at 6.45am the water was flat but swirling in the Narrows. As we passed over the bigger whirlpools, the boat lurched in a circular direction before straightening out again, like a car skidding on ice. Otherwise, the five miles to the entrance was tranquil. Looking out towards the sea through the binoculars I saw what looked like a reef of rocks across the bay, except that it was moving! “It’s the waves,” Graham calmly proclaimed. How far away they were was difficult to tell. The water began to swell, long and shallow, then steeper and steeper until we reached the wave line, as though it was drawn on the water’s surface with a pen. There, the waves were short and high. Like clapping hands, the water was coming together from all directions and as it met, it reached up to the sky in a white froth. We hung on as the boat crossed the line, bobbing up, down and sideways like a cork. It didn’t last long thanks to the speed of the tide and then we were through and out into the Irish Sea. I was glad to have experienced it but would hate to tackle anything bigger.

The rest of the trip across the Irish Sea to the Isle of Man was pretty uneventful. With no wind we motored all the way, only putting up the mainsail to steady us on the slight swell and to make us more visible.

For a fleeting moment I saw a common dolphin swimming along the hull right next to me before it disappeared under the boat. We saw three or four more fins behind us before loosing sight of them. Another two dolphins swam lazily by later. I missed the Minke Whale which Graham spotted travelling in the opposite direction. Drat! It only came up to the surface once, and then it was gone.

Peel harbour and marina was busy, beautiful and sunny, just as it was the last time we visited in May, but even in the sunshine, everywhere was so cold for August. I cooked fresh Manx kippers from the curers on the quayside before enjoying the rest of the day taking in the local scenery.

Today’s highlight, Thursday, occurred just as we were getting ready to go into the harbour at Port St. Mary at about 4.30pm. Graham spotted a fin not far from the harbour wall in 22 meters of water so we went closer to have a look. Initially we thought it was a basking shark but as we travelled alongside we decided they were very large dolphins, or were they whales? We kept our boat speed constant and at a safe distance so as not to disturb them. When we got a bit closer we could see that they had a blunt or rounded nose and were white around the face and grey along their backs. Once tied up along the harbour wall we looked at an identification chart which makes us think they were Risso’s dolphins. How about that!!

Earlier in the day we left Peel for a leisurely couple of hours sailing down to the Calf of Man on the southern tip of the island before heading North again to Port St. Mary. It’s amazing to think of all the miles of Irish Sea we’ve travelled through, only to get the best view of some rare animals just beyond the harbour wall. Amazing!

Have you ever seen a cartoon in a sailing magazine about a sailor getting up in the middle of the night in his underpants to check the rigging at three in the morning? Well that was Graham as we were tied along the harbour wall at Port St. Mary. He was investigating some squeaky ropes, which woke me up at one in the morning. Naturally, the skipper then had to investigate. I was amazed to see (in my jim-jams) that in the spring tide, the boat had risen so far that I could actually touch the top of the wall. (At low tide, the sea level was below the bottom of the ladder, which had 33 rungs. That’s about 8 metres.) Together, (Graham still in his boxers) we loosened some of the lines and went back to bed. But that wasn’t the last time we were on deck that night in our ‘evening wear’.

Early on Friday we set sail for Holyhead. The forecast was accurate with a Force 3-4 with occasional F5 from the NorthWest. We were on a run for most of the way and made good speed and time despite a lumpy sea. Unfortunately, we spent the next couple of days sheltering in Holyhead marina from strong winds with gusts up to 32 knots and white horses on the crests of the waves. That was just in the harbour! Many people were attracted to the breaking waves on the two-mile long harbour wall. Some walked along it while the waves crashed over them, soaking them to the skin. It takes all sorts I suppose. Finally, on Bank Holiday Monday, the weather calmed down sufficiently for us to sail back to Conwy with a brilliant view of Snowdon and the surrounding mountains all the way. The sunshine beamed down on us and we finally warmed up by basking in its rays like lizards. We had returned from our Irish adventure and could finally relax with a glass of wine in the warmth of ‘Costa del Conwy’ on berth C7.

Graham & Carol Woodcock

Nomad

   Strangford Village

Night Sail to Anglesey

Our first night sail.

July  2011

The forecast was for very little wind and a calm sunny weekend so we thought it was the ideal opportunity for our first night sail on Nomad. We left the marina at 11.30pm while the horizon was still glowing a deep orange and  there was still enough light to see the Beacons and the Perch in silhouette. Once in the channel and  looking back towards the coastal street lights, it was truly night time with some of the unlit channel buoys only visible by torch light.

It was a stress-free trip along the channel as we now know it so well and once we reached the Fairway, we took shifts for an hour each on route  to Lynas Point. I took the first shift from 12.30 Saturday morning. Strangely, there was still a faint glow along a short stretch of the horizon. In fact, it never did go completely dark all night. There was always a sense that the sun had  just ‘dipped’ out of sight and would soon be back.

On route to Puffin, the lighthouse at Trwyn Du and the buoys along the North Passage were clearly visible, blinking their coded lights in the darkness. Lynas lighthouse was outstandingly bright, so much so that it was hard to believe it was so far away. By the end of Graham’s shift at 2.30am  it was already getting lighter as the orange glow on the horizon intensified and, by the time we arrived at Porth Wen at around 4am, it was clearly daylight. We anchored quietly so as not to wake crews on the other boats in the bay and got to bed before seeing the sunrise.

Waking up in Porth Wen is always a delight but especially this beautifully sunny morning. Somewhat  jaded, we spent the morning sunbathing and fixing our new sail bag which we collected yesterday. On the next tide we left for the tidal gate at South Stack and then beyond to Llanddwyn Island.

 

Waking up in Porth Wen, Anglesey as these yachts left on the outgoing tide.

To anchor overnight at Llanddwyn, conditions need to be perfect. Consequently, this was  the first time since having Nomad that we had  been able to visit. The bay was already busy when we arrived at 7pm with motor boats and yachts alike. We took a BBQ ashore and enjoyed the evening cooking and watching another crimson sunset.

The following morning was glorious. With the spray hood up to keep out the breeze and the blazing sunshine beaming down on us, it was like being in the Mediterranean. No better! They don’t get these views. It was simply stunning; majestic mountains in the background, Newborough’s white shifting sands in the foreground and the peacefulness of Pilot’s Cove. Most of the overnight vessels left to cross the bar mid morning and we enjoyed another quiet morning sunbathing and  relaxing. We really couldn’t believe our luck with the weather.

 

 

 

Day trippers began to arrive on foot and by sea. Throughout the day there were at least 30 boats coming and going, from luxurious motor yachts to sailing boats and ribs, all enjoying the marvellous weather. We went ashore to admire the landscape at close quarters, and  to get away from  some of the hustle and  bustle on the water.

 It has been a while since I was last on  Llanddwyn. Previously I was on foot. The pilot’s cottages are now a museum and the paths are laid out with cockle shells which crunch under foot. I loved the newly carved gates with their patterned  posts and hand made hinges. Wild flowers were blossoming everywhere with many butterflies and ladybirds flying among them. We stumbled across a nest containing two speckled eggs, simply lying among the driftwood and  seaweed-covered  sea wall. I think they belonged to an Oyster Catcher we saw the previous evening scurrying about and squawking in the area.

After a delightful day spent at Llanddwyn we crossed the bar at 8.30pm that evening. Once again the sunset was dramatic, leaving the old lighthouse and rocky outcrops in stark silhouette. I felt privileged to see it.

 

Monday was spent getting back to Conwy via the Swellies and the Swatch, returning to the marina by 5pm  that evening. This weekend was just marvellous, incorporating such wonderfully warm and sunny weather with the most fantastic views that can be found anywhere in the Uk and beyond. The only thing it lacked was wind! Next time!!