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 14th
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
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