The Big One! Chichester to St Vaast (that's in France!)

Preparations for this passage have been ongoing for quite a while; you could say since we didn't make the Dieppe Dash last year (see  http://mahaska.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/dieppe-dash-revised.html) .

At first it was to be a convoy of Tomahawks, then Peter of Incamoon was unable to use his boat because of boom restructuring work not finished in time. Instead, he offered himself as crew to avoid  disappointment.

 

We set off from Chichester Harbour about 17.00 on Thursday evening, wind was forecast to be from ENE /NE about Force 3-4.  we logged about 4 knots, so put the engine on to bring up our average speed.

The distance from home to destination is about 65 nautical miles, and at 5knots that's 13 hours, with three sharing watches of 3 hours each it's not too bad.

Unfortunately for John, he began to feel unwell fairly early, inspite of taking Sturgeron ( although he didn't take it two hours before beginning the journey as recommended). That left me and Peter and trusty George ( the autohelm).

The sea got quite swelly in mid-channel, although the wind stayed at a constant F4.
Peter put his head down for a bit as the early light came slowly and greyly illuminating the 360 degrees horizon of wavy water.

The motion of a bilge keeled boat in these conditions is less steady and course holding than a fin keeled boat, although it's not a big disadvantage if you like the benefits a bilge keel provides.

By about 7am we were heading for our waypoint at Pointe de Barfleur.
We were right on time with the tide and consequently were logging over 8 knots with huge rolling waves coming in from south east, luckily the wind didn't increase and we belted down the Cotetin east coast.

The gates into the harbour were to open at 11.05, and as we threaded our way through the trawling boats which had just left, we felt happy that our timimg had worked out well.

Scanning the pontoons for a berth, Peter shouted "Hello Bill!", Cochise with Ian and Bill had arrived about 40 minutes before, so we tied up nearby and put on the kettle.

La Criee du Tomahawk


The name of this restaurant means "The place where they sell the fish caught by the fishing boat, Tomahawk"

I tried to explain to the smiling waitress the significance of the name to us, but she smiled on without showing signs of comprehension.
She took a nice photo though:

In front of Peter is an eeeeenormous seafood platter!



My more modest oysters


That afternoon was sleep catch-up time, and later we walked across the gate, and round the harbour in the evening light.

We ended up in the Harbour Bar with huge steaming bowls of Moules with Frites, and live jazz to entertain.

Saturday, we planned an early lunch on Cochise because by the evening,

Bill contibuted a large hunk of really delicious cheese.

a treat was in store: dinner somewhere special.

In order to create an appetite for this, John and I went for a quick swim, then walked to the 17th century tower on the South of the bay.
This is one of the defensive towers that protect the town; the other is built on the small island of Tatihou

This what wikipedia has to say:
"When Henry V landed in France and proceeded toward what would become Agincourt, it was on the sandy stretch that lies between La Hougue and St Vaast.
The naval Battle of La Hougue took place off the town in 1692. On 3 June 1692 during a heated battle with the Anglo-Dutch fleet, twelve French ships were sunk in the vicinity of the Island of Tatihou, just off the coast of Saint-Vaast-la-Hougue. It was the decisive naval battle of the Nine Years' War, also known as the War of the English Succession.
Following the French defeat, two fortified towers are built from 1694 onwards on the mound at La Hougue and Tatihou Island by a student of Vauban, Benjamin de Combes, in order to defend the bay."

in the Tower

Le Hotel des Fuchsias
This is an elegant turn of the century hotel with delightful gardens, and cheerful but rather formal service completely in keeping with it's Edwardian grandeur. I could easily imagine elderly ladies in large hats taking tea in corners of the garden. And I'm sure that Hercule Poirot must have stayed here.

Goat cheese tartlet with pommes

The meal was so much more than the food, which was rather good: the authenticity of a seaside hotel from a different era and the numerous little extras which kept appearing for a set menu of 29 Euros, all made it a memorable event.

Leaving the restaurant we bumped into an excited crowd of people, a band was setting up and children were lighting paper lanterns. This was a procession to mark the weekend's celebration of Bastille Day.

We bought lanterns and joined in processing round the streets.

The next day I got up early to hunt for croissants and found the market. It was as full of delicious fruit vegetables, cheese, honey, sausage, flowers as you could imagine. I had to look at it all and marvel.

Sunday lunch would be bought from the mobile Rotisserie;



I especially like this photo, boy pouring cider for the men, one of whom can be seen attending to the meat with a fag hanging from his mouth. The French must think that we are completely bonkers with our rules for safety and hygiene!

Before lunch a visit to the emporium of Gosslin was in order. This is another well kept relic from La Belle Epoche, many of the products have the shop's  own label, so you can feel that you are buying local artisan produced soups, stew, sauces, condiments, even bottled brussel sprouts! There are several "caves" for wine, cider, calvados, even one for whiskey.

After the shopping, a rest on the boat.







putting in waypoints


and a stroll round the harbour

Later we could hear the sounds of a jazz trio playing Django Rheinhart from a bar on the Quai. We made our way to it for coffee, only to find that there was a power cut. The trio played on completely unfazed, (they were very good) and seamlessly switched on the amps when the lights came back.

The twilight deepened to night and we stood with the crowd on the Harbour edge watching a firework display over the water.

I found it an amusing irony that the fireworks celebrating the start of the Republic of France were set to the music of Queen. It worked really well!

Still with the smell of the cordite in the air we made ready to leave for home. The forecast was little wind, and slight sea state.

There was no moon, and we motored out with someone at the bow looking out for lobster pots, eventually we realised that they are all well lit with little flashing LEDs so then the night became a slow progress along the coast towards the Channel. Very different from our arrival.

At last the Barfleur lighthouse was no longer in view over the stern, the early morning showed that it would be a sunny day, and we had very clear views of the ships we needed to avoid.

Just east of St Catherine's point on the Isle of Wight, the engine sputtered to a stop-empty tank. Luckily the sea was dead calm and the engine has an automatic purging system!

I got out my fishing tackle, but Peter put it away again, telling me that I needed extra bits!

Oh well, it will be on another day that I catch my first mackeral.


The weekend was an adventure, for John and I it was the first time we crossed the Channel in our own boat. However all the other elements truly made it a holiday!

Thanks to Peter Llewellyn , we wouldn't have done it without him. ( In spite of our initial bravura, I would have turned back when J started to feel ill) He fitted in , helped out trying to get the chartplotter GPS to work, was a reassuring presence when needed, never said no to second helpings.