Starlight and Seafog

The wake up alarm on Julian's phone went at midnight. We had not put the bed out, just stretched out on the side berths, so getting up was a simple matter of putting on layers of warm clothes. I made a pot of tea, and we had a hot drink as we took Robinetta out of the marina and headed down Strangford Lough narrows with the first of the ebb. Julian helmed Robinetta back along the track we had made entering the lough on Sunday; a very reassuring route to follow in the dark!

Since we were head to wind we raised the main as we went along, not thinking too hard what the wind direction meant.

After we passed the Angus Rock we encountered overfalls. These always happen with an onshore wind during the ebb, but they took us by surprise. The wind was very light, and we were close tot he start of the ebb and only a couple of days past neaps... It took Robinetta at least ten minutes to get through the area of overfalls and her foredeck got a very good wash. At least with the tide with us the waves she kept sticking her bowsprit in did not stop her! I looked back at Worm a couple of times. She was just visible in the glow from our stern navigation light, playing about at the end of her long tow line with no problems.

Julian laid in a course on the chart plotter after we cleared the overfalls while I steered a straight line by using the stars. This was our first night sail of the year, and annoyingly the light on the new compass did not come on with the navigation lights the way it should have done, which left us reliant on the chart plotter as normal. As soon as we had an ETA for Port Saint Mary on the Isle of Man I went below and called the coastguard with our passage plan. We needed them to be aware that a small boat, almost invisible to radar, was out crossing the Irish Sea in the dark.

Julian put George to work, since he is a much better helmsman with poor visibility than a human. Meanwhile I went down below to try and get a couple of hours sleep. The engine went off for about half an hour but mostly we motor sailed.

I put the kettle on and made tea at 3a.m then came up for my watch while Julian went below.

George had no problems with maintaining the course, and we were far enough out to sea that crab pots were not a factor, so all I had to do was keep watch for shipping and admire the stars. I kept an eye on our speed too, and managed half an hour on sail alone before our speed dropped below 3 knots and I put the engine on again.

There were two ships in the area. The first seemed to be a small freighter from its length. As we passed ahead of it it turned its foredeck lights on, maybe trying to see us, but we were at least 4 cables off its bow so the lights did not reach us.

I thought the second ship might be an oil exploration rig at first. It was lit up like a Christmas tree and moving so slowly that I thought it was stationary. After half an hour watching its lights I was finally able to make out a funnel with a cruise line logo on it. They seemed to be making about the same speed as Robinetta, on a collision course, and with the decks so brightly lit the chances of anyone on watch being able to see a small boat with dark sails was slight. I changed course and passed behind them.

Despite the bright stars overhead there was a band of cloud on the port bow. This began to take on a reddish glow as a sliver of moon rose behind it. Half an hour later the stars were fading in the first glimmer of false dawn as Julian came back on watch and I went below for more sleep.

I woke after only an hour, but it was 07:00 and close to my normal waking up time, so I decided to get up. When I put my head out of the cabin rather than bright daylight Robinetta was motoring through a sea of fog. George was still on the helm, but his attachment point on the tiller had come partially off, so Julian had lashed it in place with a sail tie. It was still functional in calm seas, but could not be relied on to hold in anything rougher.

While on my watch I had fine tuned Julian's course to pass close outside the Calf of Man (the tide would have been against us if we tried to go through the sound). The new course would take us between the cliffs and the overfalls near Chicken Rock, but not knowing this Julian had strayed right of the line, just into the overfalls area. The sea state went abruptly from slight to moderately confused, but as soon as we returned to the line the sea was calm again. George had coped admirably with the waves despite the jury rigged repair, which was a relief.

The Calf of Man loomed out of the fog, about 2 cables away, which gave us some idea of the thickness of the fog! We saw very little of the South end of the Isle of Man as we motor sailed along it. As we reached Port Saint Mary the fog began to thin, and we were able to identify and pick up a visitor mooring buoy at 0900 for a well earned rest.