Overnight passage, Isle of Man to Holyhead

We had hoped to stay in Douglas for a day, leaving early on Thursday morning to head for Holyhead, but the newest weather forecast made us change our minds. There were winds gusting to force 7 due then, with Friday, Saturday and Sunday even worse. If we wanted to get to Holyhead for the traditional boat festival we needed to go today.

We headed out of the marina at 10:15 and got the sails up in the bay just outside the harbour. Julian had (most unusually) forgotten to attach the peak halyard when he took the sail cover off on the pontoon, so had to do it as we rolled in the swell. Raising sail took longer than normal. We headed out of the bay under sail at 10:40, with the engine off, making best course to windward.

Three boats that came out of Douglas Harbour half an hour after us gradually caught up and passed us. This happened slowly enough that it felt like we were sailing in company until our courses diverged.

We knew that this would be a long trip, especially since we would get foul tides later on, trying to push Robinetta up the Mersey. Establishing watches, 2 hours on, 2 hours off, from the start made sense. The seas were quite big and were coming from the starboard bow, so we pitched quite a bit. Julian and I both hand steered our first two watches, and it was hard work, although as I came up for my second watch Julian commented that the sailing had been gorgeous. 

Before he went below for a rest he tightened up the peak halyard to take a crease out of the sail. When I looked up a couple of minutes later I saw that the gaff outhaul had snapped. Last time this happened we had just left Eriskay, heading for Lochboisdale and we just took the sail down and motored since it was not very far. This time we needed to fix it en-route as we were much further from shelter. Julian came back up on deck and got the sail down while I held us head to wind on the engine, then we pulled the main sheet in as hard as we could to keep the main centred. The boom rolled sideways every now and then despite this, and Julian rolled with it. Retying the outhaul with a new bit of rope meant standing at the stern, tying knots with one hand while holding onto the boom with the other. He was clipped on to Robinetta with the safety strap but it was still a nervewracking time. The outhaul tension was quite loose when he finished, but the sail was now usable again and we raised it.

 

Robinetta settled down to cut across the waves again under sail and Julian sat down in the cockpit for a breather before heading down to the cabin. He picked up a fragment and wood, and frowned at it.

I looked forward, and saw that the starboard rear shroud lower dead-eye had sheered clean through the middle, meaning that shroud had no tension on it. The entire load was being carried on the forward shroud and backstay. Julian grabbed the rest of the rope he had just used to replace the outhaul, clipped on his safety line again, and crawled along the cabin top to lash the shroud back into service.

Two gear failures inside half an hour was a telling symptom of how hard a season Robinetta was having. 

I wanted to give Julian a longer “off” watch since he had spent half of it in boat maintenance, so decided not to call him at the end of my two hours on the helm. By that time the wind and swell had gone down a lot. We were just making 3 knots and I was guiltily aware that the reef needed to come out. As I was contemplating doing it Julian came up on deck ready to take over, so we shook out the reef together.

Julian had brought George up with him, and set him to work on the helm. Within half an hour the wind had gone so light that the engine went on, and stayed on.

When I came back on watch it felt like the light was going as well as the wind, so with George on the helm I got the main down, then went forward and tightened up the starboard shroud again. With the much calmer seas it was a lot easier to get tension on it.

Sunset in the Irish Sea

The navigation lights went on as the sun set, and Robinetta's track on the chart plotter began to curve left. George was still steering in the same direction as before but the tide was taking us east of the course. We had known this would happen, and tried to get west while the tide was going that way to compensate, but the wind had not obliged.

I reset George, so we would not be carried too far east, but we were only making half a knot towards where we wanted to go. Our arrival time went from a respectable midnight up to 3am. The tide against us eased at 23:00, and was with us by midnight, but we did not reach Holyhead until 02:45.

The marina looked dark, and there were a lot of moored boats to thread through to get there. Both being tired we decided to pick up an empty mooring rather than try and find a marina berth. The first we looked at said “Dangerous, Do Not Moor” in reflective lettering that showed perfectly in the light of my head torch. The one we picked up had a mass of kelp and a mussel farm on the mooring line, but we made it off on the bits, then lashed it in place with our own line then went to bed. 17 hours for a fifty mile passage is not great, but that is what happens with three hours of a 4 knot foul tide. If we had gone on Thursday as originally planned we would have left earlier, and had a much quicker trip.

A little used mooring line