( Overview
/ Two Bullocks on a Boat Go West
Planning to get away, and studying the weather forecasts, we thought there may be an opportunity to get ahead of the stormy weather forecast for the weekend.
A maximum of 20 mile and hour winds and 1.8 metre waves seemed the best a crossing of the North Atlantic might offer for a while.
The first part of the journey took us out of Bantry Bay and past Mizen Head.
A still morning as we left Lawrence Cove at 5am.
Avoiding the MV Bardini Reefer.
And passing the Bere Island Hotel…
…and John and Mairead at anchor in Dunboy Bay. Dunboy Castle, more commonly known as Puxley Mansion having been built by the copper mining magnate, can be seen in the background. It was apparently sold in 2022, so may be a hotel yet.
Passing Ardnakinna Point as we left Bear Haven. A circular beacon from 1863 to 1923, it was reinstated when a lighting device was installed in 1965.
A mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
Just trepidation!
Our last views of Bere Island…
…and the Fastnet Lighthouse.
Rounding Mizen, the waves seemed to be over 2 metres, and directly behind us, so we were surfing down them; great, until you need to come back up. It really slowed Avalon’s progress, and we were thrown all over the place. We used our harnesses to clip us into the cockpit.
Six hours into our journey, the Irish Coastguard issued a gale force warning (Storm Polly). Contacting them on the radio, we decided it was probably safer to keep going, rather than turning back into wind, so Avalon ploughed on through the high swell.
A large number of Atlantic white-sided dolphins joined us. They swim in large groups and like jumping and breaching. There seemed to be lots of young, born in June and July at a metre long, but the adults are between 2.5 and 2.8 metres. Individuals are known to live for at least 17 years.
Proceeding on, a few hours later we could see dark clouds gathering behind us, so Kevin reefed the sail, and kept it like that through the night. Fortunately it was a relatively warm night (although I had 3 coats on, woolly hat and gloves), and it didn’t rain.
As darkness fell we hunkered down, starting to feel queasy. If Kevin asked me how I felt, I answered with a belch! The swell seemed to decrease from what seemed like 3 metres, but as the wind and waves changed direction, waves were coming over our bow and starboard side covering us with spray.
As with the dolphins, when the Buck Moon started to rise on the horizon, I didn’t feel like taking photos. An amazing sight; a gold orange ball of light partly reflected in the sea developing into an enormous moon.
The Buck Moon, so called because the antlers of male deer are in full growth mode at this time, was full on the 3rd July. A supermoon, it happens when the Moon is at the closest point to Earth in its orbit, and also in its full moon phase.
A bird also flew with us. When behind it was white but when it flew into our arch of our navigation lights, became a red or green spectre.
Our hopes of calmer seas were dashed as morning broke, and the southerly winds strengthened- probably the edge of the forecast gale. We may have struggled, but, once again, we were so impressed how Avalon coped with the conditions and looked after us and herself.
At this point we realised, unlike other sailors we have met, this is not what we enjoy. We weren’t frightened, but found the sea relentless and challenging. Conditions could have been many times worse, and on AIS we spotted fishermen out all night, many miles from home.
No other boats, but that’s not unusual; even the traffics separation zones were empty as we crossed. These zones on charts are separating traffic lanes for ships proceeding in opposite directions. It was a joy to see the pods of dolphins playing in our bow wave twice more.
The forecast had been correct, apart from the sudden appearance of Storm Polly, which we fortunately left behind in Ireland, but we hadn’t understood the power of the Atlantic swell. The last few hours seem to go on forever, and we were pleased to round Golden Ball Brow into Old Grimsby Harbour…
…and we picked up a mooring buoy in the bay near Little Kittern. Exhausted, but relieved, we ate and tried to rehydrate before falling into bed, sleeping soundly despite there still being a gentle swell and slapping of waves on the hull.
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