Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Falmouth to Padstow to Troon

Departed Falmouth Wednesday morning and arrived Padstow (on the other side of Cornwall) 24 hours (almost to the minute) later, right at high tide. Timing is important in these parts as tides are big and most harbors are shallow. Today it was a 6 meter difference between low and high tide. The inner harbor where Twister is now rafted to two other sailboats is only acessible the for two hours either side of high tide (less on neap tides). The rest of the time a gate holds the water in and the boats afloat--otherwise it would dry out well before low tide.

Padstow was a quaint little fishing village about 50 years ago, I reckon. Today it's mainly a tourist attraction, though some fishing boats still call Padstow home. Mooring in the inner harbor is a bit like being in a fish bowl with hundreds of tourists milling about, looking at the boats, and, strangely, fishing for the filthy little harbor crabs which they then throw back.

Friday and Saturday Gary of La Cueca fame (whom I first met in Rangiroa in French Polynesia and several ports thereafter and who sailed with me on Twister from New Zealand back to Fiji) and Tamsin came over from London and Isle of Wight to visit me in Padstow. We had a lovely evening with dinner and wine on Twister Friday. Saturday we took the ferry across the estuary to Polzeath (well to Rock, nearby, to Polzeath by car) where we had a nice day at the beach with some more friends, Ian and Sophie. Gary seems to be adjusting well to life on land. Check out some very good photos from La Cueca's Pacific crossing here (I think mostly taken by Rory who was co-captain with Gary on La Cueca).

Sunday morning Twister departed Padstow with new crew: Jo, whom I met in New Zealand but who is back home in the UK now, has got the sailing bug and wanted to sail with Twister to get a taste of passage-making in a small boat.

Wedneseday the 14th 1100 UTC finds us cruising along The Firth Of Clyde. We are ca 25 miles from Troon, Scotland where Jo will get off and Bridget will get on. Last night, becalmed in The Irish Sea, we started the engine. I soon noticed the familiar smell of diesel. Opening the engine compartment, I found diesel dripping (somewhere between dripping and pouring) from the fuel pump at a good rate, so we had to kill the engine. Consulting some manuals leads me to believe that the diaphragm in the fuel pump is the culprit. The rest of the night we ghosted along at 1 to 2 knots up the Irish Sea with Northern Irleland to our left and The Isle Of Man to our right. This morning, the wind returned and since then we've been averaging 5.5 knots in the southerly breeze. 

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