8. Biscay

The following week was a hive of activity, the last preparations were carefully made and all the paperwork that was required finally slotted into place. I received a call from Mark to say the money for the club had been transferred into my account and everybody had been paid off. We were free!

We received a letter from the Will and Sarah reporting an awful passage to Gibraltar. Will had been terribly seasick for most of the journey and it was only through the competency of his crewmember, Steve, that they had got through it unscathed.
Sarah informed us that she never wanted to sail out of sight of land again and certainly didn’t want to sail at night; a bit difficult really considering their plans were to take the yacht to the Caribbean!

We sat with Peter one evening and planned our route, we were going to take the shortest route to Gibraltar, aiming to keep at least fifty miles offshore at all times. I paid him in advance and we decided to leave on November the 19th weather permitting.

We put the final touches to Chamarel, stocked up with supplies and we were ready for the off.
Alan and Ann invited us for dinner on our last evening ashore and as we sat in the restaurant overlooking Chamarel sitting quietly in her berth, we knew we were ready. Alan and Ann presented us with a leather bound guest log “I knew you didn’t have one,” he smiled. “You bought everything else in the shop but not one of these.”
Ann gave us a tiny tin box that held a pound note “Just in case,” she laughed.
We went back to their house for a nightcap and chilled out, on what was to be our last night ashore for a couple of weeks.

The next morning we checked the weather forecast and phoned Peter, who agreed it was time to go while the weather was good.
Di’s sister Roz and her husband Derek came to see us off with the kids Biffo and Laura. They helped us with a last minute shopping spree in the local supermarket and pretty soon we made preparations to leave. A last minute visit to the fuel dock, making sure Ginge was locked in below and we headed off to the lock to await the tide. We got a little anxious as Peter hadn’t turned up but we manoeuvred our way into the lock and said our last goodbyes. Viv from the café turned up and gave us a huge box of mince pies.
“Thanks Viv but I hope we get there before Christmas,” I joked.
Joy and Andrew pulled their yacht into the lock alongside us and a small crowd gathered at the side of the lock.
A last minute thought sent Derek running for the supermarket, we’d forgotten cat litter, a potential disaster.
Peter finally arrived, charts in hand and we breathed a sigh of relief.
The lock gates opened with the usual rush of water between the powerful gates and we cast off the lines and waved goodbye as we quickly motored into the channel.
Biffo and Laura ran along the seawall waving frantically until they got to the end and then slowly disappeared from view.

The weather was still and the sea was calm as we motored into the Bristol Channel. We double-checked everything to make sure that everything was as secure as we could make it and settled into the cockpit relieved that we’d started the journey but naturally apprehensive of what was to come.
We exchanged stories with Peter who was somewhat surprised at the events that lead us to this day and it made me reflect on the past. Had I made the right decision to give up my house and business? Was I right to ask Diana to do the same? Were we going to survive the Bay of Biscay when everyone else thought we were crazy? One thing was certain; we wouldn’t know unless we tried.
The wind picked up late afternoon and we made good time down the Channel. As we hit the open sea we cut the motor and at last we were sailing.
“Well if you have any doubts,” said Peter “This is the time to voice them.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” we replied in unison. Two years planning were not going to be wasted on the first day; that was for sure.
We took our last bearings on the land before it faded out of sight and settled down to a four-hour watch routine.
The wind picked up and pretty soon we were finding it difficult going. I took over from Peter around ten o’clock in the evening and for the first time my heart started to race as I felt the full impact of what we were undertaking. We passed through the shipping lane without mishap and soon the darkness was only punctuated by the breaking waves alongside us.
The autopilot we had so carefully installed didn’t want to handle the sea that we were experiencing, so I took over the wheel and felt the difference right away. When a yacht is properly balanced under sail she will cut through the water like a knife and although the waves were getting bigger by the minute and the wind got progressively louder, I felt completely in control and started to laugh to myself. So this is what made great voyagers do what they do. My arms ached and my legs were stiffening as I grimly held onto the wheel but the sense of euphoria was overwhelming.
When Peter’s head appeared through the hatch four hours later I wanted to tell him to go back down below, I could handle this for days I was sure.
We chatted for a while and it wasn’t until he took over the wheel that I realised how tired I was. We exchanged information about the weather, sea conditions and ship sightings and reluctantly I made my way below. The quiet of the cabin was quite startling after the last few hours on deck although the slamming of the waves on the hull was far more noticeable.
Diana was tucked into her berth on the port side with the lee-cloth holding her securely in place. The red cabin light over the chart table dimly illuminated the saloon and as my eyes got used to the light I saw a pair of worried eyes peering up at me. Poor Ginge. He was settled between Di’s legs looking at me with a very serious, questioning face.
“How’s it going Boy,” Di asked as she raised her head over the lee-cloth.
I leant over and kissed her “ It’s amazing,” I whispered. “Getting a bit rough out there but she’s sailing incredibly well.”
“I can hear it’s rough,” she laughed. “Me an Ginge haven’t slept much and it’s stuffy in here.”
“You OK though?” I asked.
“I’m feeling a bit queasy but otherwise I’m OK.” She replied. “I’ve taken my seasickness tablets but I’m sure they made me feel worse. Are going to sleep now?”
“Yep, I’ll go in the aft cabin though, alright? Gimme a shout if you need anything.”
I made my way into the aft cabin and sat on the bed removing my wet weather gear. Not the easiest of things to do when the yacht’s motion was like a corkscrew so I eventually collapsed on the bed semi-clothed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up in the dark and it took a while to realise why it appeared that somebody was pounding on my bedroom door and apparently throwing buckets of water at it.
I struggled into my wet weather gear and made my way out of the cabin. Di wasn’t in her bunk and I could just see Ginge cowering in the footlocker at the end of the berth.
I opened the hatch to see Di in the cockpit with her wet weather gear on, talking to Peter. The wind had worsened and the noise of the waves had increased.
“How’s things?” I shouted over the howling wind.
“OK but the weather’s getting worse.” Peter shouted from his place behind the wheel.
“Ok let’s take a bit of sail down and if it keeps up we’ll try the storm jib out.”
I harnessed myself to the stainless steel lifelines we’d attached to each side of the yacht and made my way to the mast.
Most of the ropes lead into the cockpit and she could easily be sailed from there but the mainsail still had to be raised and lowered from the foot of the mast. I found it difficult to keep my footing as the waves were starting to come over the side and the decks were heaving quite badly.
I took a reef in the main, which basically means lowering the sail and retying it so there’s less sail area giving resistance to the wind.
I completed the operation and made my way back into the cockpit. Di helped take in the Genoa and the yacht became more manageable.
I took over from Peter and he Di went below. Di soon came back up with hot drinks and we huddled for a while under the spray hood while the autopilot whirred away doing its job.
“You alright my lovely girl?” I asked.
“Yeah, a bit scared but it’s going OK isn’t it?”
“No problems, it’s only a little storm. It’ll most probably be over by the morning. What was it Mark used to say? Character building stuff.”
Di gave me a handful of chocolate bars and went off to find some sleep.
As the hatch closed I checked the instruments that glowed comfortably back at me. 30 knots of wind and we were heading south, looked good to me. The autopilot started to struggle so I checked my harness and moved out of the relative comfort of the spray hood.
The face strap on the hood of my jacket was scratching my face and I shoved it backwards only to be pelted by a flurry of rain that started to fall. I felt stifled by the hood but it was so cold without it that I quickly raised it over my head once more. I was reminded of my Sergeant Majors voice when we would stand on the parade ground freezing our butts off “There’s a sun up there somewhere lad.”
Back on the wheel I felt strangely at ease. It was easier to steer than to sit there being thrown about and there something positive about being in control.
The sky was beginning to lighten and the darkness turned into a cold grey morning. It was only then that the sea state became truly visible. Huge breaking waves and a long rolling swell that was so alien to me even in a movie. I watched some seabirds swoop in the distance, disappearing in the troughs of the waves reappearing as if they were emerging from the sea and then suddenly there was a thump on deck. I looked up to see the VHF aerial bounce on the deck and disappear over the side.
I looked up at the top of the mast and the wind direction instrument that it was attached to had also disappeared.I looked through the windscreen and saw a bird sat on the deck looking somewhat dazed. It appeared that it had tried to land on the top of the mast and the instruments had given way under its’ weight. We had a camera stashed under the spray hood so I took a photo as the bird looked like a hawk and the wind instrument it had destroyed was also called a hawk. If that was a sign what was it a sign of?
As the daylight increased it gave a completely different feel to the sea. Instead of concentrating on the movement of the yacht my concentration strayed to avoiding the waves, something that seemed so futile after a while so I closed my eyes and tried to sail solely by instinct. It actually worked for a while but I couldn’t hold a course too well.
As the hatch slid open, I was greeted by the wan face of Diana. Poor girl looked green. She harnessed herself on and struggled into the cockpit as another wave pitched us about, she sat down heavily.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Yeah, just feeling a bit stifled down there. The noise is keeping me awake and it’s so stuffy. Poor Ginge hasn’t moved a muscle. How are you doing?”
“I’m ok, just had a weird one,” I told her about the aerial and the bird.
“Does that mean we have no radio?” she asked.
“Well it didn’t do us any good I must admit but we’re too far away from shore for the radio to work anyway.”
Di took the wheel for a while whilst I made the drinks and by the time I’d got back in the cockpit she visibly improved with the fresh air.
I lay down while Di steered and I was heartened by the fact that she could swiftly take over and keep us on the right course.
Peter awoke a little later and we shared an hour together discussing our prospects.
Suddenly Di pointed to starboard and shouted, “Look, look dolphins!”
We stood and watched as a school of dolphins raced in and out of the waves leaping in the air as we excitedly pointed out their antics.
“Look to the pumps when the sea hog jumps,” Peter sagely exclaimed.
“What?”
“It’s sign of bad weather when you get dolphins jumping alongside,” he replied.
“Well in that case they’re a bit late, haven’t you noticed?” I said pointing out to sea.
The dolphins disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived and Di got our breakfast together. Not an easy feat when the yacht’s heeled over at 250 but we managed to eat and clear things away before collapsing into the next sleep pattern.