The Channel Crossing

When the alarm went off I felt like we'd only just gone to bed!  Chris, unusually, was first up and making the tea.  It was still dark, of course, but I could hear the odd bird or two in the peace and quiet of the early hours as I popped my head out of the companionway.  We ate breakfast virtually silently in anticipation of what lay ahead.  A rucksack full of food and a flask of hot coffee was ready to keep us going through the long day. 

A few boats which had arrived the night before had already gone but there was no activity other than our movements on the pontoon, untying the lines and springs which had held us safely through the night.  The engine pottered us out of the harbour and with our pilotage notes in hand and an eye on our depth gauge we marveled at the wonders of the IALA system of coloured lights and buoys.  I was particularly impressed by the coloured sector lights off Hurst Castle which indicate if you are too far port or starboard of the channel through the Needles.  We reached Bridge, a westerly cardinal buoy, twenty minutes earlier than expected.  The tide had rushed us through more successfully than we had calculated!

Bridge was our marker after which we turned onto our course to steer for Cherbourg.  The sails were soon up and the sun was rising.  The mist slowly lifted and we glimpsed the top of the island, our last sight of good old Blighty!  The weather seemed better than forecasts had predicted, a north-easterly breeze and the sky above turning a clear blue.  We thought for about 5 minutes that we'd have to put the engine back on, but the threat of doing so prodded the breeze into picking up.

George was galvanised into action.  He held the course well and was helming when we reached our top speed of 6.9 knots.  About four hours after we had cast off we put a reef in the main because poor old George was struggling in the 16 knot wind.

The next moment of excitement came just as Chris was going down below to plot our position at 0900.  Charlie let go!  Charlie is our wind charger and whilst we are sailing he isn't supposed to spin or he acts as a brake!  But, he had struggled free of his ties and started to whirr at great speed.  Black tape was the solution and we probably looked a funny sight, Chris leaning over the stern with me holding onto the baggy seat of his wet weather gear!

About half way across, having seen no other boats and surrounded by sea in all directions, I suddenly had this "Trueman Show" feeling that we were about to bump into the edge of the "set".  But unlike the film, we did not run out of sea and it kept on going for several more hours; until we reached Cherbourg in fact.

The engine had been started up again as the wind faded around 1330.  An hour later and we knew we were only about 5 miles from land but the misty haze on the horizon meant we still couldn't see it.  We considered how many boats we hadn't spotted because of this phenomenon. Chris had won our ship lookout competition 4 - 3.  (I later discovered he'd been cheating by checking on the radar as he went below to plot the course!) Slowly we began to make out the shapes of the forts on Cherbourg's breakwater.  At last, we'd seen land!

At 1630 we were moored up on P44 in Port de Chantereyne, Cherbourg.  The whole trip had taken just under 12 hours, more than half of which we'd sailed.  Our rosy faces were proof of the fine weather and the "bar" was declared open.  Our adventure had truly begun.