The cruise

Having completed as short refit of Magicienne over the winter of 2002/03, she is now back in the water on the Hamble and undergong a few shakedown cruises to get us and her back to scratch. As we've decided on an extended cruise, we've invested in some new equipment - an autopilot, liferaft and danbuoy. I serviced the engine and antifouled her. The information below was as written at the time - plans change!

I feel it is important when undertaking a cruise like this that we do not provide ourselves with hurdles to be overcome that end up as barriers to our enjoyment. This trip is intended to be fun and an adventure where we will be visiting new places and picking up work along the way where we can find it. So details provided are flexible.

We will be leaving the Hamble on or around the 1st May 2003 and intend visiting Normandy, Brittany, the Bay of Biscay, La Gironde and the Med. Weather, wine and work will have a bearing!

Our intial French landfall will be Cherbourg. I hear a lot of people knock Cherbourg but I must say that I like it. It has a lot of facilities in a reasonably priced Marina and will enable us to victual Magicienne at French prices (especially the wine!).

Leaving Cherbourg we will head around the Cap de la Hague. It is imprtant to miss the worst of the Race of Alderney. This can be done staying inshore along the northern edge of the Peninsular (using a West going eddy) and arriving at slack water (HW Dover). Then catching the SW going tide down the Contentin peninsular to Carteret, Granville (both of which are praised in Tom Cunliffe's Channel Pilot) and on into Brittany where our first port of call will be St Malo (which isn't really).

After that decisions on where to go become more difficult. If you read the pilots, almanacs and magazine write ups, everywhere sounds great. Places that stick out for me at Plouer sur Rance, Treguier, Trebeurden and Lezardrieux - anyway, we'll see and I'll keep you posted.

The day before our planned departure!

A bit of a shock last week. Leaving Deacons for a 2 day sail with friends we suffered catastrophic engine failure! A bilge full of engine oil. Problem was a slowly leaking water pump dripping onto an oil bearing pipe below. I could see some fairly minor corrosion but what I couldn't see was the hole appearing at the back of the pipe. Anyway - no damage done. We got alongside another boat and stopped the engine (rather than it stopping itself). I fixed the problem a couple of days later and trialed her up and down the Hamble. So far so good!

The last of our food and belongings are going onboard this afternoon - so all should be ready. However inshore weather forecast for 1st May is currently F7 - F8 perhaps severe gale F9! So we'll see what awaits us in the morning.

We actually got the boat victualled and all our gear on board on schedule, taking up residence on board Magicienne on the 1st May 2003. Our plan was depart for Yarmouth for an overnight stop before crossing the Channel to Cherbourg for the start of our 6 month trip which, loosely, would take in Normandy, Brittany, La Gironde, Canal du Midi and a bit of the Med. But the best laid plans etc etc and Force 8 and even 9 gales found us tied to our mooring on the Hamble for the first 2 days. So we did something unusual; we went for walks in our own area and even visited the art gallery in Southampton! All very nice but it had the feeling of limbo about it. However, we didn't want to go back home (just up the road!) as this would have a retrograde aspect to it and leaving our family for a prolonged period was painful for them and us; so we didn't want to go through that again.

So, on Saturday 3rd May we finally left our berth with the intention of sailing down to Yarmouth but it was a miserable day blowing about Force 5 out of the Southwest which would mean a strenuous beat to windward all the way down the Solent. And I had to choose that day to wake up with the beginnings of a migraine.

So we headed into Cowes! The smallest journey starts with but a single step (so say Confucious). Anyway, the afternoon brightened up and we went for a pleasant walk around East Cowes (which cannot make any claims to being interesting or lively).

Sunday 4th was stunningly beautiful and hot with a fair wind that finally and very quickly took us down to Yarmouth. We arrived happy and tanned already! Back came the strong winds and we elected to stay in Yarmouth until we could see some settled weather with fair winds; we weren't in this to prove that we were Scott of the Antarctic and stress was something we were both trying to get away from. This wasn't too bad though as Yarmouth is a delightful town and the countryside around it afforded beautiful walks in the sunshine; we got quite sunburnt.

The weather forecast for Wednesday 7th May looked promising and we set out from Yarmouth at 3am in the morning on a beautiful clear night; making our way down the Needles channel without event and out into the Channel proper. This had been a source of some anxiety as having read accounts of disasters and breaking seas on the Shingles Bank (which runs up the Western side of the Needles channel) I was even considering making for Poole as our point of departure in order to avoid it. However, the planning and weather forecast were correct and we only encountered smooth seas.

Indeed, there was so little wind all that day that we had to motor sail all the way across to Cherbourg in the sunshine. This was somewhat tedious; a sailing boat is meant for sailing, when she becomes stiff and comfortable (most of the time!) and motoring left here wallowing in the swell. Having therefore virtually nothing to do, as the autopilot was helming, left Pauline vulnerable to sea sickness so she felt pretty low although she didn't actually loose her dinner.

We actually sited land 15 miles off Cherbourg. Once this happens time begins to stand still and it became very hot so it was with great happiness that we finally entered Cherbourg harbour and found a berth in the Marina, most of which was closed to visitors due to a big sailing race with the likes of Ellen MacArthur and Michel Desjoyeaux participating (the French take their racing very seriously).

The next leg of our voyage will take us West around the Cap de la Hague and then South where our next port of call will be Diellete. As of today (10th May) we have been unable to do this as the Cap is "the most stream lashed headland in the channel" according to the Pilot; and to round it safely requires timing our arrival to "slack water" with relatively little wind to avoid possible breaking seas. We did set out to do this yesterday but it soon became clear that we shold turn back. The wind was NW Force 5 and we could make only slow headway in a North Westerly direction from Cherbourg up to the Cap thus jeopardising the tidal gate as we sailors call it. So, discretion was the better part of valour and we returned snug to our berth.

Well we finally left Cherbourg at 0530 on the 11th under cloudy skies in the darkness en route to Diellette - a passage of about 6 hours. The sea was flat calm with very little wind, if any. Things could not have been more different from a couple of days ago with just a gentle swell on the glass like surface.

As dawn broke the merest hint of a breeze came up allowing us to motor sail and reach Cap de la Hague (CdlH) at approximately the correct time for the easiest passage around it. (CdlH) has a fearsome reputation - indeed the pilots says the The Race of Alderney (as the area is known) is best avoided in strong winds or at spring tides when flows can reach 10 Knots (twice the speed of Magienne under full power) and further that it should be treated with the utmost caution at all other times. We had chosen a "good" time with little wind and with a fair tide just after slack water on neaps (the weakest tide). Even so, I cannot say it was a pleasant experience.

As we approached CdlH the weather closed in and it started to rain fairly hard. Visibility reduced drastically making the headland, it's rocks and the lighthouse appear bleak, foreboding and menacing - no joke. I couldn't help thinking "Great, just what we needed!" I glanced at out log which said speed through the water was 4.5 knots whilst the GPS said speed over the ground had risen to 8.9 knots! Even on a very weak tide only just after slack water (not even at the height of the flow) the water was travelling at nigh on our own speed! What little wind there was (F2 or 3 I estimate) began to kick up a nasty confused sea and Magicienne began to buck and kick into the 1.5 to 2m waves which splashed up over the side. I didn't fancy it getting any worse. The good news was of course that at that speed we wouldn't be in it for too long (its probably about 10 miles long and at 8 knots would last less than an hour). In any case, worrying and turning back was not an option as we neither had the engine power or wind to enable us to do this. All we could do was make sure we stayed on course to avoid the rocks - which even a mile away seemed awfully close! (So don't worry Mum).

Suffice to say that we left the Race unscathed and entered into another world. The Western side of the Cotentin penisular is totally unlike the Nothern or Eastern sides which are reasonably flat (hence the Normandy landings in WW2). It's coastline is rugged and rocky topped with beautiful green fields and woods and fringed by wide sandy beaches which appear deserted. The beaches, we found, had large outcrops of rock with lots of rock pools for crabbing! (Note these beaches are within a 20 minute drive of Cherbourg which is a cheap and quick channel crossing).

The wind increased further to a steady F3 (right on the nose as usual - why is that?) and so we set sail and killed the engine, beating our way SSE towards Diellette with the odd patch of drizzle about. Very satisfying - regularly hitting 5.5 knots with little weather helm. The ind increased still further reaching about F5 by the time we were of Diellette where we rounded up to drop the sails and motor in. Pauline never ceases to amaze and she was quite a sight going forward to get the main sail down on a boat pitching and bucking in what had become quite a swell by now (the coast is renowned for it) - her hair streaming away from under her red "storm" hat.

Any way, we made our way into the harbour - picking our way through the myriad pot buoys strung all around the entrance and into the relative calm. Diellette lay before us. A small hamlet, no more, backed by really green hills on which were dotted cows and horses - so clear it looked unreal. There's not much here - a couple of small restaurants and hotels, although the opportunities for walks along the beaches and through the countryside are endless - so Victoria would love it!

The natives are very friendly and helpful. This morning the harbour master actually shook my hand as part of our greeting - I felt very French.

Today (12th May) we walked to Flamanville (the nearest town) to buy a few victuals. A pleasant place found along a small, fairly quiet country road. We had lunch in the local bar. I think we were the first foreigners they'd ever seen. Behind the bar was Rene, cigarette in mouth. Two locals (a separate man and a woman) sat at the bar and (I kid you not) at a table sat someone who could have been (and probably was!) Rene's mother in law from 'Allo 'Allo. Anyway, Rene pops out from behind the bar to take our order (2 beers, 1 ham and 1 pate baguette and 1 order of frites) - has a quick conversation with Maman and shoots out the door - no drinks not nuffink. Five minutes later, back comes Rene with a couples of baguettes, ham, pate, butter and a bag of oven chips, nips into the back closely followed by Maman who reappears 2 minutes later with said offerings! I have to say they tasted excellent and went down a treat with the beers which finally arrived.

I am now off to by some fresh (large) prawns and moules - caught just outside the harbour, from a little place on't other side of the marina.

12th - 14th May 2003

Passage from Dielette to Carteret

En route down the West Coast of Normandy in our 27' Jeanneau sailing boat Magicienne, Pauline and I left Cherbourg and made our first port of call Dielette on the basis that to carry on for our preferred destination, Carteret, we might miss the tidal gate that would allow us into the marina and we didn't fancy drying out against the harbour wall.

This allowed for a short, and supposedly easy, passage along the coast from Dielette to Carteret; knocking two to three hours off the longer haul to Granville at the Southwestern end of the Cotentin peninsular. Both of these ports have restricted access to their marinas due to the large drying heights of the harbours; Dielette HW�3, Carteret HW�2.5. I should also state here that Dielette has an outer harbour where our yacht can stay afloat on the visitor's pontoon. We'd been stuck in Dielette for some days listening to the Westerly wind howling and screeching through the rigging and going for long walks in the surrounding delightful countryside and along the beach in the sunshine. However, the weather forecast for the 14th May looked good with the wind veering NW and moderating to F2 - 4. Also, this coastline suffers from swell and the French forecasts provide information on what heights can be expected - this was also due to moderate from 2.5m to 1m. The pressure, which had dipped slightly over the last few days, now had climbed back up to 1023mB and was steady at that all day. Perfect we thought, for a quick run under the cruising chute, down the coast in the evening sunshine; two and a half hours, no problem.

I've always been quite meticulous with passage planning (being a sad soul I find poring over charts and almanacs rather enjoyable) and this was no exception, although the passage itself was fairly simple; out turn left, down a bit and turn left again. The main factors were the exit and entry times to the marinas and the tidal stream which sets North and South along the coast; so clearly I wanted at least mostly South as we were approaching spring tides (the strongest). I didn't bother with setting any waypoints on the GPS as the weather was so clear (and forecast to remain so), it was almost just a case of pilotage by mark one eyeball rather than navigation and we'd arranged clearing bearing for any rocks and wrecks.

High Water Dielette was 1630 and according to the tidal chartlets in the almanac and pilot this appeared to provide 1.5 hours of southerly tide or at worst slack water and the next hour of fairly weak northerly flow (approx. 1Kn) which figured was not an issue as we'd be under a lot of power from our big cruising chute. During the fine, warm and sunny afternoon I pottered about generally getting the boat ready and setting up the cruising chute which I stowed ready for use on the foredeck. It got in the way of the genoa but I wasn't expecting to use that anyway.

At 1630 we got the green lights allowing us to leave the marina and set off. Leaving the main harbour we hoisted the main and motor sailed on 240M up to Banc des Dious West Cardinal Mark (WCM). Passing a pot buoy on the way I noticed that the tide seemed to be set North; funny I thought. Maybe a local eddy. On reaching the WCM off Cap de Flamanville, a little late, I saw that the stream was again Northerly; curiouser and curiouser. There was also a much heavier sea running than I expected or was forecast and the wind was gusting harder than forecast as well so I didn't want to use the chute and I also didn't want to risk going forward to remove it with Magicienne pitching about a lot unless absolutely necessary.

With the brisk Nor'wester and the engine turning over at about half speed we were logging 6Kn through the water. Pauline happened to glance at the GPS; "2.7Kn over the ground!" she announced. I gritted my teeth, determined not to turn back. As beautiful as Dielette is, it's not exactly the centre of the universe!

After rounding Cap de Flamanville the sea moderated�.a little. We settled in for what we knew would be a bit of a grind; slowly making our way South against the tide with me inwardly kicking myself all the way to hell and back for making what I thought must have been an elementary error with the tidal direction. After 3 more hours at 2030 we were finally about one mile off (west) of Cap de Carteret and a big, confused sea was running; some of the biggest waves were between three and four metres and Magicienne was thrown about a lot; occasionally sending spindrift back along her decks and laying her over at some considerable angles. One of the waves lifted her up high, whence we were hit by another that slewed her sideways with a terrific thump ("Blimey, that was a big one" said Pauline). There was never any sense of impending doom but the effort of keeping the boat on track was very tiring, trying and extremely uncomfortable; I got fed up with it and frankly, just wanted it to end as quickly as possible. Pauline, who never seems to see how good she is as a sailor, sat calmly taking clearing bearings to ensure our safe position with nary a murmur of discontent.

Turning East for the entrance to Carteret harbour I now had a strong crosswise tidal stream to contend with and had to steer well into the South to avoid being swept up onto the Cape. This was never really an issue but it doesn't half look close when you see the breakers on the rocks at it's base! By now of course we were getting fairly late, still only making about 3.5Kn over the ground, and with it's massive drying heights fear overcame logic (I knew I had a good rise of tide) and I was concerned about shoal areas South and West of the entrance. The almanac and pilot both mention that the beacon at the end of the harbour wall marks the end of a submerged jetty but as we got closer, I could see water boiling over the ground beyond the beacon to the south; rocks and whatever I couldn't tell and I also knew that slightly further south still was a rocky shoal area - I could see the water beginning to break over it. Slowly, we inched our way forward through a gap about 50 yards wide and finally around and into the harbour and the wonderful lee of the harbour wall; racing up the short river to the marina, fearful now of not making the entrance before it closed. All we needed after this was a night tied up on the harbour wall! We shouldn't have worried. We made our way over the sill into the placid waters of the marina and up to the Eastern end where the visitors pontoon is; puttering along in the evening light as wading birds and gulls said their goodnights. Pauline went below to get the tea on, gratefully received by me whilst I tidied down the boat. This was followed by curry from a tin and a bottle of red wine. After that lot, tinned curry tasted pretty good!

After our meal I went back over my calculations; they were correct. So apart from me feeling a lot better, where was the problem and what did we learn.

We could and should have moved Magicienne to the visitor's pontoon in the outer harbour of Dielette thus allowing us to begin our passage earlier and at the time of my choosing.

I should not have set up the cruising chute before leaving in such a way as to stop our use of the genoa - I assumed too much and it would have been useful to have the genoa to steady the boat and add a bit of extra speed.

The tidal chartlets provided in the almanac and pilot do not have sufficient definition for these waters; I was perfectly right to expect slack water for most of the passage according to what I could see. But, what actually happens is, for that period, the tide comes in from the West, hits the coast, and turns very sharply North. I'm buying a local tidal atlas!

There are a number of transits which it would be a good idea for the almanac and pilot to mention for navigation from the West and Southwest.

The areas of sea off Cap de Flamanville and Cap de Carteret are in the words of a local "always rough 'ere". Be prepared for it and try to avoid any wind over tide. To be fair to the almanac and pilot, they do mention this.

Well, we've been wind bound in Carteret ever since arriving with gales and rain howling through the rigging for 2 whole days at one point. Now, today the wind has subsided somewhat but we can't leave the marina until about 1500 to catch a South going tide and this would mean sailing past some rocky areas and into Granville (our next port) at night. This coupled with the forecast for this afteroon and evening of rain, fog and very poor visibility has made us stay now until very early (0400) Friday morning for similar tidal condition but hopefully better visibility.

In aside from that, the weather has been fine although the wind has still been very strong. We have been for a lot more walks. Yesterday going to Portbail and back (12.5 miles) but we're getting used to it!

Carteret is a very nice village but it has to be said that not a lot happens here and with the frustration of weird French opening hours (or should I say closing hours) and a worse than useless bus service we're a bit bored. However, we have (fully) explored the local countryside and sand dunes. Passing through some of the hamlets around here you are struck by the very well kept countryside and the age of the buildings, most of which are in good repair and have recently been renovated or are being renovated - which poses a question:

It has to be said that there is little urgency about the locals attitude to work. They do work I know but you don't see the same "industry" as at home where lorries are on the road virtually 24 hours a day, shops don't close during the day and they have people inside buying things! Here�..no.

So, the question is�..where does all the money come from?

Mostly we're catering on board to keep costs down (Pauline cooked some gorgeous local sole and pork) but we did treat ourselves to a posh nosh at L'ermitage restaurant which was excellent - Pauline's getting into mussels as well now!

21st May - 24th May 2003

Finally, there was a reasonable conjunction of tides, sill gates opening, wind, visibility and daylight! We had previously decided to leave Careteret in the early hours of Friday 23rd (about 0300) but listening to the forecast of fog and rain from Jersey Radio (early on the 22nd), for that period we didn't fancy it. However, the forecast for the Thursday 22nd afternoon and evening was fog and drizzle in the North of the area (where we were) and fine for the South, wind Westerly F4; where we were going. So we upped and went at 1200 - sharpish like - for Gr Gr Gr Gr Granville.

(Note - for those interested - a lot of the harbours around these parts have "locked" marinas to keep the water in when the tide isn't. So, you have to (hopefully) time you departure to ensure that the lock or sill gate is open when you get there. Anchoring off isn't really an option as most of the harbours are in shoal areas and with F4 or 5 onshore winds it kicks up a bit of a swell).

Leaving Carteret was no more pleasant than entering. The combination of the onshore, West wind and a large area of shoaling sands and rocks extending about a mile offshore leads to a very cut up sea and you have to be reasonably careful about staying on a back transit from the harbour entrance to stay in some reasonably deep water (at low tide it dries completely). Motoring out the waves knocked Magicienne about a bit and we managed to get the mainsail halyard (the string wot pulls it up) caught around the starboard spreader and the radar reflector forward of the mast.

I ordered No. 1 to take the helm while I went to deal with it (she's normally IC sails) but damn her impertinence if she don't refuse; saying "No I'll do it". So forward she goes with the boat jumping a good 8 - 10' upwards and sideways with me trying to hold Magicienne roughly head to wind. No. 1 is nothing if not a game old bird and she carries out said manoeuvre to a tee - returning to me crouching (cowering) courageously in the cockpit with a sort of glazed look on her face. This woman is prodigious courageous and knows no fear - I was exceeding proud.

So, sails set and about 2 miles offshore we turned SSE for the 35 mile passage to Gr Gr Gr Gr Granville; which turned out to be rather pleasant and warm (the passage, not Granville). The first half on a beam reach achieving 6Kn over a slightly foul tide as (wait for it)�the sun came out. At first we were confused as to what it was! Around 1400 the wind died and we motor-sailed for and hour or so; so as not to lose any ground as the tide was still slightly foul. (I'd decided that the foul tide was the lesser of two weevils - and it was only neaps). We scratched a backstay and whistled for a bit and sure enough the wind filled in again slightly South of West and we finished with engines; sailing all the rest of the way to Gr Gr Gr Gr Granville under sunny, warm skies arriving under a golden sunset around 2130. We pfaffed around for a bit in the bay outside waiting for the sill gate to open at 2200 - it was flat calm by now.

Since arriving in Gr Gr Gr Gr Granville it has rained ceaselessly but being hardy sailor types we don't care. We went for a walk last night around the old walled town which was nice - and wet. And, this morning we went to a big market which was nice - and wet. This market did have it's fair share of tat but you have to say that the food part was fantastic (as are most of these markets - the one at Barneville, near Carteret, though smaller was excellent). The food (meat, fish, veg, bread, cheese) is all of excellent, fresh quality and prodigious amounts finely displayed. The people serving are knowledgeable and caring. We bought some cheese this morning and the lad asked when we wanted to eat it so that he could select a piece that was correctly ripe (it was a Camembary kind of thing) and sure 'nough when we eat it; it was!

Gr Gr Gr Gr Granville is a much larger town than we've become used to and when I turned out on Friday morning to light along to the Boulangerie for a couple of pain au raison I was surprised to see not one but many horseless carriages. And people�.doing things. Shops were open and one even stayed open all day from 0700 to 2100 - cor blimey. It surrounds quite a large commercial and fishing harbour with a large fleet; the Froggies do take their fish very seriously whereas it seems that we sort of mess about at it these days. We will probably stay here a few days longer to walk up to the other parts of the town and the surrounding cliffs - very bracing - and then make our way across the Bay of Mont St Michel to St Malo - possibly stopping at the Isles de Chaussey on the way - I dunno.

And don't talk to me about pot buoys. I've 'ad more pot buoys than you've 'ad 'ot dinners Mike - they're everywhere. Looking back, our decish not to leave Carteret in darkness was a good one as the fisherfolk (the artful devils) drop their pots all round the entrance to their harbours, and I wouldn't fancy a fouled propeller in that seaway at night in the fog I can tell you. Soiled underwear ain't in it you know.

A few observations come to mind that I thought I'd get down in a sharing kind of a way.

When we left, I was a bit nervous about spending our lives confined (as I saw it) on a small, 27' boat. It turns out that nothing could be further from the truth. It actually feels (at the moment I hasten to add) as if our "boundaries" are greatly extended. We're walking everywhere under the sky and of course sailing under the same sky - and that is how it feels. The size of the boat, its cabin, salon and heads is irrelevant. Also, being now on a fairly tight budget we agreed that we actually appreciated things more; we went for a meal and looked forward to it all day! Mostly we eat on the boat.

We are gradually picking up more of the lingo that the natives speak. I can actually understand some of what they say now rather than having a sort of "rehearsed" conversation. Pauline too is starting to speak to them (before, she always left it to me) but she's at the stage where if they garble back at her she sort of stares blankly for a second and then turns to me - but we've all been there.

Incidentally, don't mention the war but the natives are very happy, friendly and helpful. Almost everyone you meet, anywhere, bids you "good day". Even a sullen looking teenage lad walking along the street kicking the ground around his chin looked up and brightly said "bonjour" as we passed (albeit his lower jaw didn't move).

25th May - 31st May 2003

Knuckled down to start another "Gulls Eye" article for Sailing Today magazine on Granville. Took pictures, made notes etc and then set up an interview with the Harbourmaster. Arriving at the appointed time, I was made to wait for about 15 minutes (something I've not been used to!) in the hot outer office (not helped by migraine which had been drilling into my forehead for four days now). Anyway, finally ushered into the inner sanctum of the great man and the Frenchie devil insists on whole interview in French. Sweat broke out profusely and pain ratcheted up a notch. We did the interview and I took a photo of him looking officious holding the 'phone. He was OK in the end I suppose (grudgingly).

Did lots of walks around Granville. One particularly nice one up and over the headland just south of us and down to the beach and rocks in the cove below. It was mid to late evening but still sunny and warm and we poked around in the rock pools. We noticed what looked like fried egg whites on the rocks (like a Salvador Dali painting with melted clocks) but couldn't work out what they were until we noted the serrated edge of an oyster actually in the rock. Presumably, it had started out life quite normally but become encrusted with barnacles and thence part of the rock. It was still alive and when I touched it it closed its shell. The egg whited were dead 'uns where the top shell and innards had gone. Imagine living your whole life totally unable to move!

Anyway left Granville for a sunny, pleasant but totally uneventful sail to St Malo and put into Bas Sablons marina which is in the little town of St Servan right next door to St Malo. That evening we discovered a very pretty little port called Port St Pere just over the headland inside the River Rance and decided to move the following day into the Rance - picking up a buoy at Port St Pere whilst we waited for the lock to open in the barrage across the Rance. (Electricitie de France built the worlds first hydro electric scheme here in 1961 hence the barrage and the lock). Port St Pere is pleasant and on a small premonitory stand the huge and magnificent Tower of Solidor - it must have a dragon under it and I swear I saw a maiden letting down her hair from the top window to her saviour knight below. It was built in or before 1534 and looks brilliant set against this tiny village and green, wooded hill. Incidentally, you'd never know it was all there as you whisk through from the car ferry.

Went up the Rance to a beautiful village call St Sulliac and picked up a buoy for a couple of nights. The Rance is a large, wide river but not over long; prettily lined with woods, fields and fairy chateaux on headlands. St Sulliac is an up market, very old village; it was no unsual to see 17xx or even 16xx over the doors. The church is truly something else; built around the 11th or 12th century, some of its walls are original. Beautiful and serene inside (unusually we could actually get in - most churches are locked up) with pleasant, churchy music playing quietly. We couldn't work out what St Sulliac himself had done but it seemed to involve standing on dogs.

Left St Sulliac on a misty river morning and came back down the Rance. Picked up a buoy in Port St Pere and went ashore for shopping whilst we waited for the lock gate up into the old town of St Malo. Had a nice lunch in the hot sunshine overlooking the port and Tower of Solidor (say that like an advert for a kids cartoon adventure by the way). Back on't boat and round to the lock.

Why is it that a larger number of Frenchies need to behave badly in queues? Entry into the lock was made interesting by one such member (word used advisedly) trying to fit his 12' wide boat into the 3' gap between me and the lock wall. I can only think it's lack of self confidence bringing a need to constantly prove themselves. What could have brought that on I wonder? Agincourt, Trafalgar, Waterloo, Cape St Vincent, The Battle of the Nile, not one but two liberations�.I dunno�.what could it be?

I jest (a bit). Most of 'em have been really friendly and pleasant and helpful. Oh, except one. On approaching the barrage on the Rance I called up the lock keeper on the VHF radio just to make sure I understood the form.

"Ecluse de Rance, Ecluse de Rance�Magicienne, Magicienne..Over" Says I.

"Ecluse de Rance accoutez" Says he.

"Bonjour Ecluse de Rance, je suis Anglais. Parlez vous Anglais s'il vous plait"

Deadness. Nada. Not another word. Ah Well.

Went into St Malo after a welcome shower (it really was 'ot even after cleaning the boat wiv der 'ose) but a bit of a disappointment - endless restaurants really. I didn't remember it that way.

So, probably of tomorrow to Binic (35 miles odd west) - given fair weather, although quite foggy today.

We're missing friends and family rather. So any emails gratefully received to let us know how you're getting on and what's happening! Thanks to those what 'ave already sent 'em!

1st June - 9th June 2003

Dropped our mooring at Port St Pere and motored around to the large lock that is the entrance to Port Vauban; the basin in the old town of St Malo where there is another marina. We'd been quite looking forward to this as we've always liked St Malo, being the first port we'd "ferried" to many years ago and also having spent time there with Sean and Dee and multitudinous offspring. It was a bit of a disappointment really as it's become a bit like a Disney town; restaurants, more restaurants, more restaurants etc and the ubiquitous boaty shop. The marina was expensive by comparison to others. Still, we had an enjoyable meal there and witnessed a strike march.

There's always someone on strike; Meteo France have been all the time we've been here so getting MET info on the boat has been hit and miss. Jersey radio are good but I can't quite get them when in a marina - a bit too far away. As an aside, a while back we went to another small town that was closed (Flamanville) and went to go to the Post Office. There was a hand written sign on the door; "Ferme - Greve". I took this to mean that they were closed due to the loss of a loved one and this being a small village rendered the PO closed. No��greve means "strike".

Today, as I write, it�s a(nother) bank holiday so guess what. Closed.

Anyway, I digress. Mooched around St Malo for a couple of days and then headed of for Binic; a good days sail from West from St Malo. Started off in little wind but rain and dense mist; which was fun actually. The sun put in an appearance around lunch time and we got some wind (no Mum it wasn't the shellfish) and sailed on over a glassy sea arriving without incident at about the right time at Binic (which has another locked entrance and dries very high so time is of the essence). We had to wait for a short while so picked up a buoy in the outer harbour which by that time had just enough water in it. Spoke to a local whilst waiting and he pointed at the large amount of weed. "Nitrates" he said. "Pas nitrates", I said. "Merde". He seemed amused.

Got into the marina and Pauline steps professionally ashore to be met by man with beer in hand who proceeded to chat her up. I was in need of some supplies so nipped straight into town. "I'll leave you to tidy up" I said over my shoulder. Came back to find Pauline still with rope in hand, still talking to man with beer. Hmmmmm.

Binic is a pleasant town. I'd recommend a visit. The reason for the beer mans presence (a rather hairy, cocky individual I recollect) was that he had what appeared to be an old boat and they had a "Fete" going on for the fishermen or the fish (I couldn't quite make out). Anyway - much merriment going on; stalls, food being served, people singing toneless sea shanties with their finger in their ear - you get the picture. We cleared up the boat (Pauline has received an official reprimand) and went for a looksee. Guess what�..they were closing up as we arrived. No change there then.

Had some absolutely wonderful walks. One was along the old cliff path used by the customs men of old (The Chemin of the Duaniers)�up and down over rocks, cliffs and escarpments. Hard work as it was hot and the ship's victualler (what's her name now�it'll come to me) had omitted to bring water (actually, I said "no - we'll find a bar for a beer"). We got to a small village; it was closed, and began walking back along the main (small) road via a town called Pordic. It was a detour but fewer hills! Eventually got to Pordic with mouths as dry as a witches xxx (remember Steptoe and Son) to find a restaurant�open. We went in to find that it is probably the only "restaurat ouvert" in the whole of Christendom. It was absolutely packed with working men; navies, fishermen the lot. Testosterone flowed down the aisles. There was one other couple in there who also happened to be English (she kept telling us she used to have a big house "no, really big" in Essex). We sat down to a "fixed" menu; everybody got the same whether they liked it or not. But of course they did. Being France, this food was excellent. Four courses, a varied salad buffet to start (fish, meat, eggs, cous cous etc), Steak and chips done to perfection, cheese and apple tart. A bottle of wine and water. �6 each all in. We left replete and happy and walked down into Binic. Ex (Dee).

I ended up having to translate for Mr & Mrs Large-House and it was like something from Clousseau which hurt somewhat as I thought I was getting on pretty good with the lingo.

"Madame desires une dessert".

"Dess - bloody - ert for God's sake"

I foreshorten somewhat.

Stayed a couple of days in Binic and made the short (very) hop up the coast to St Quay Portrieux. This is one of the few all weather, all tide harbours on the coast so it's very important and it therefore enables you flexibility with you next destination as you are not constrained by a particular time that the lock opens. It is a very good marina; no question. But, there's not much to recommend in the town.

Shipped out of St Q P and came up to Paimpol. A very nice town with the marina in the old harbour smack in the middle of town but spoiled a little by the fair which totally surrounds the harbour. This is Pentecostal weekend (whatever that is) and they celebrate it with a (very very loud fair). If I hear "I want to see your sexy body go boom boom boom" one more time I'll go bonkers. Anyway, that aside, it is a place well worth visiting. We took a steam engine ride (a bit like Watercress Line - sorry Mike) to a nearby town called Pontrieux. Having stopped on the way for some "Pays cidre" and listen to a couple of locals playing something on the bagpipe (I only saw one) and a screaming sort of old clarinet, (no wonder this old music isn't played anymore - I think I prefer "sexy body, boom boom boom) you arrive at the town around 1230�so it's closed. And leave again around 1530�when it opens. Pontrieux is so quiet that it makes the OK Corral look lively�.after the gunfight.

So, writing this as we are about to leave Paimpol and head round the coast to Lezardrieux' possibly anchoring off the Iles de Brehat for lunch if the weather holds up. The fair is also packing up at this moment�probably on it's way to Lezardrieux. Still, the sun is out and there's a gentle breeze. Number 1 is on deck reading.

I forgot to say. Back at St Soulliac whilst on our mooring I might add, number 1 arrives on deck in very lubberly fashion. Namely, in her bedroom slippers. Standing in the companionway on tiptoe, nosing at a boat nearby no doubt. Magicienne moves slightly. The slippers do what slippers do best�they slipped and number 1 ends up on back in the cockpit�bruised. I'm saying nothing, me.

What else�Oh, thanks to everyone who communicated recently�.very kindly received I must say. Especially for number one who was touched.

Paimpol's marina facilities aren't wonderful. For a start, the harbourmaster's almost never here, so the office is�.closed and you can't get a shower without a jeton (token) and unless you plan ahead 2 or 3 days you start to pong a bit. Both of which kind of miss the point somewhat.

We did look for a present from me to number one but couldn't find one�so that's OK then. We did go for a very nice posh nosh in L'Islandais restaurant; where you dine under the inverted ribs and hulls of an old sunken (now retrieved of course) wooden fishing boat. Very nice, and all the staff and some of the customers came round and sang happy birthday to her. One lady turned out to be very pleasant and we took a sort walk up the harbour with her after the meal. The "where does the money come from?" question was partly resolved. Apparently, there is virtually no work to be had outside a limited number of major French cities; Paris, Lyon, Rennes. So everyone (apparently they all have large famillies) goes to the city and lives, sending money back home to Maman et Papa or keeping the house themselves.

Talking of the Frenchie. As we left Binic to sail up to St Q P, a Frenchie left at the same time. We both set sail very professionally in very little wind from directly aft and set off in the same direction. I'm glad to say we showed the Frenchie a clean pair of heels even if it meant me poling out the genoa with the ship's broom!

9th June - 17th June 2003

As I write, it's come on to blow a bit; but we're tucked up in the harbour of Ploumanac'h as we have been for a couple of days now. This is our first bit of less than good weather. For some days now it has been all sunshine. Having said that, the sun's just come out after a morning that couldn't make up it's mind.

So, we left noisy Paimpol and made our way round to Lezardrieux; a 4 hour hop in between the mainland and the Iles de Brehat. I had looked at stopping for lunch at Brehat but with a sou'easter blowing it could have been a bit uncomfortable for anchoring. Pauline helmed a lot on the way and is becoming much more confident; which is great for both of us as it means I can go below for navigating when necessary and not need to have half my mind on what's going on on deck. This is important as some of the navigation is fairly testing on this rocky coastline.

Lezardirieux lies about seven miles up a river of the same name. It has a pleasant Marina and indeed the town has a pleasant feel too. Wide main street, flower tubs etc but almost no people. There are a number of restaurants; 3 down by the marina and a couple up in the town (about 3/4 mile up a hill) and we decided to treat ourselves. Well, as you may have guessed, they were all closed save one which at least meant it had a reasonable number of clientele. Interestingly, we're almost certain that one of them was the very old lady who recently one a prize from the Royal Yachting Association along with Ellen MacArthur (I can't for the life of me remember her name). Anyway, she got this prize for single handed sailing for a 1000 years or something and she lives down Beaulieu way (we heard here talking about Lymington to somebody who I suspect was her Grandson; both very plummy. Anyway we were all finishing our meals at roughly the same time when I passed some comment that they overheard (intentionally) about only understanding the menu if you knew the Chef's entire family and friends (some of the names of the dishes). She asks Grandson to repeat it into her speaking trumpet (cupped hand) and say's (very posh voice please) "Yes but it's very good; as it was when we came before". "Oh", I said, "when was that?"

"!946 six it was I think. It was our first cruise after the war. They'd taken all the navigation marks away and Daddy had the devil of a job getting in"(!)

Anyway, we couldn't stand the excitement a day longer at Lezardrieux and shipped out for Treguier. This again is up a river but is a different kettle of fish. A larger, medieval town set on a hill above the river which winds between fields and cliffs of granite. There were/was people, bustle, movement, sun, things to do. Great! So we stayed a few days. Met a chap called Dave who was living aboard and happened to be friends with the Frenchies we beat up to St Q P earlier.

Treguier has a magnificent cathedral dating from about 900 in parts. One of the saints is buries there and they keep the poor chaps skull and a couple of bones in a glass case. He's the patron saint of lawyers and apparently, once a year, lawyers from all over Europe get together her to carry the top knot around the town.

The town square on which the cathedral sits is surrounded by shops and restaurants and cafes. The surrounding streets have lovely houses and gardens (which is true everywhere we've been). They're very big on roses in particular although the gardens are a riot of colour from all sorts of plants - some quite exotic looking. (M&C would love it). Also all the houses have undergone renovation but this doesn't seem to be DIY (sorry Ian). I reckon you could make a fortune in these parts as a builder/plumber etc - vans everywhere.

Left Treguier for another short hop around to Ploumanac'h. Some of the sea's can be fairly rough even with no particularly strong winds, dur to the very uneven, rocky bottom. Anyway, left at high tide so that it was fair all the way, knowing that I wouldn't have enough water to get all the way into this drying harbour. However, the chart and pilot says (correctly) that you can anchor in shelter just outside (which I intended). Simple sail down and approaching the very narrow entrance channel we drop the sails and motor gently (gingerly in. I sent No.1 forward to look for rocks. As she reaches the foredeck I repeat "just keep an eye out, no real problems". There was a grinding noise and a bit of a bump. I looked over the side to see granite just below the surface - we'd bounce of an outcrop! So, (without panic I might add) we gently picked our way out again and stood off and on for an hour and a half which gave us another metre or so of water and came safely in. I had got my line wrong by about 20 yards I reckon. It was still too early to get into the harbour so we picked up a buoy and had a cup of tea. Whilst there, a Frenchie sailing by nearly hit our forestay with his boom; missed by literally 3 inches. Suddenly it was "no speakie der lingo" but I think he understood the hand signals which are after all international.

Been in Ploumanac'h for a couple of days. It's a harbour not a marina, so we're moored alongside some buoys in the middle. Went on a ferry trip to some islands we'd seen on the way down; they'ed shown up as a white cliff in the distance. The "Sept Iles" as they're called are a wildlife sanctuary and the white cliff turned out to be birds; literally tens of thousands of gannets turning the cliff face white with their feather could and their�.stuff. Saw live puffins and stuff and a couple of seals (phoques) bobbing around. The ferry was a very fast cat and it was excellent up the pointy end, hammering into the waves (as I said at the top, it's a bit windy today). A great, well spent morning. Got back and nipped into the boulangerie for bread for lunch. Now, when we arrives on Sunday, it was closed (this is quite unusual for boulangeries). When we went there on Monday it was closed - no particular reason as I could see but a post-it on the door said "Ferme Lundi), ho hum. Went in at just before 1300 today (it closed for lunch at 1300 so just made it) and it was open�..but no bloody bread!

Points I keep meaning to mention.

French people, at least these ones, are generally very polite. Everyone, no matter where you are, greets you with a "bonjour Madame et Monsieur" even dare I say it, younger children (10 - 14 years). We went over for a shower yesterday and at the top of the slipway, a teacher was telling a bunch of kids about the tidal mills on Ploumanac'h. "Bonjour" they chorused. Very nice I thought.

For the first time we're feeling a long way from home. Mixed feelings there.

French bread is definitely better than ours on the whole. We could learn something there.

There are others but they appear to have slipped my mind.

21st June - 25th June

We've reached a decision. We're not gong on to Southern Brittany - at least not via Ushant. Number of reasons but an important one is the sail/harbours between Trebuerden and Ushant. In order to go around the headland and avoid difficult and potentially dangerous seas you need to arrive in the Chenal du Four at exactly the right time. To do this, you go into a harbour called L' Aberwrc'h which has a rather rocky and narrow entrance; in itself not a great problem. But, L' Aber is over 60 miles from Trebuerden and that's a long way for us bearing in mind the nature of the coastline and the great possibility of fog in this whole area. There is a harbour at Roscoff but it�s not a "yacht" harbour - you have to dry out against what looks like a not very well sheltered harbour wall and it can only be entered (again through lots of rocks) on a rising tide within 2 hours of high water. Also, it's taking a lot longer to get around as we like to stay and explore and use more propitious winds rather than beating hard everywhere. There are other reasons but all in all we don't fancy it.

So we're turning back to visit some places we've not yet been on the French coast and also to visit the Channel Islands. Maybe turn into the inland waterway system at St Malo; up the Rance and if we can boat height under bridges) through to S Brittany that way - maybe.

We left Trebuerden yesterday with the intention of going back round to Treguir and anchoring for the night. That in itself would be a new experience we've been putting off a bit. However, the wind was NE 2 or 3 and as we proceeded rose to 3 or 4; right on the nose. It was a beautiful day but we faced 7 maybe 8 or more hours of beating hard to windward on what should be a 6 hour trip. So we had a fun sail but put into Ploumanac'h to await a wind with a bit more West in it.

A few more observations and the possibility of a rant or two.

Hairdressers, beauty salons and pharmacies. I don't know what it is but the place is crawling with 'em. Even the smallest village will have three of each. I do mean small (much smaller than Hedge End) and I do mean at least three. It's not and exaggeration. They're all smart upmarket affairs so you might be forgiven for expecting the populace to be superbly coiffed, smooth skinned adonis' and venus'. I'll leave it at that - curious. The pharmacies are all well stocked, bright and modern staffed by women in white coats - very professional (and I must say helpful). Does this mean this nation of beauties is very healthy or very unhealthy?

We did do it right when we made dog poo illegal. There are a lot of dogs here (they all seem to have them as guard dogs from yappers to roarers and they lay in wait behind the garden gate to cause heart attacks as you pass - suddenly I see the need for the pharmacies - truckloads of blood pressure pills). Anyway, the pavements are pretty coated in the jolly old stuff (as Dad used to say). It's better to walk in the road I find, and risk being run over. It's either that or constantly bumping into lamp posts 'cause you're looking down all the time.

A few communications back I mentioned the opening hours etc of places of interest - like the supermarket! Little things. Anyway, I think I made an excuse along the lines of "it's a different way of life - if you lived here, you'd get used to it". Wrong.

I've come to the conclusion (I'm being mostly serious here) that they are all organisationally challenged. You can get buses to places but no bus back. Adverts that tell you somewhere is open turn out to be wrong when you get there. Billboards outside shops proclaiming "ouvert" turn out to have no relevance. Signs on doorways giving opening times are pointless - if they want to go out or on holiday they just stick a post it not or scrawled A4 sheet on the window saying "Ferme". Fuel is only available from a pontoon if you have a French credit card - no cash, no visa, no mastercard. They give you a token for the shower but don't tell you that the code for the showers has changed since they last gave you one (and they're perfectly aware of who you are as you've just paid for you boat's berth). The list goes on and on. It's very, very frustrating.

OK, so having ranted a bit, I do need to add a little balance. People when you meet 'em in the general way in the street are very nice. They do fall over themselves to help you with a smile. Or just a short conversation passing the time of day. They are nice people. So why, when they get to work does that natural helpfulness seem to go out of the window.

The countryside and walks are fantastic in every way. Beautiful colours, flowers (wild and cultivated), houses with turrets and ancient walls. Well kept gardens and tilled fields. Stunning coastline with waves crashing up against craggy and sometimes weird rock formations. Wildlife galore both on land and at sea. Churches (when they're open) that take your breath away and ooze the feeling of all those people that have walked through it's doors for a thousand years (and more).

Up to the minute; thunderstorms last night with the promise of more today although the sky up through the hatch is blue. Winds are still forecast NE today so we might go to the "Aquarium of the Mer" and the beach if the sun stays out.

We didn't make Dinan in one hit as previously suggested! This requires a few admissions to foul ups! Having had some a very rough day previously in Bas Sablons marina (the F7 Westerly kicked up a large swell that entered the marina where the visitors pontoon was - without exaggeration, the pontoon was like a fairground ride), we left our berth, reversing out easily into the aisle. However, after checking the engines water filter, we'd not quite tightened up the lid sufficiently and so the water pump was unable to suck water into the cooling system (mistake No. 1). It was OK whilst ticking over at the berth but directly the engine came under load it over heated - I should have checked that water was being pumped out of the exhaust (mistake No. 2). So, the engine temperature alarm started bleeping but no problem to us old hands; engine off immediately and flash out the genoa (foresail) and sail out of the marina, then I can chack the engine problem with a bit of sea room. We sail to the end of the aisle and turn to the left (more up wind) to leave the marina through it's narrow entrance (40 yards). This too should have been no problem but now comes mistake No.3. Pauline by this time was returning to the cockpit and, being a gentleman, I took my eye of the sailing and momentarily looked at what she was doing. As I said, we were more to windward and the genoa luffed (no longer filled and driving us forward) so we lost speed. I turned back onto course but there was still a stiff breeze blowing and now, not enough speed to move forwards. The bow was blown off the wind and we drifted onto one of the great big ferry jetty piles. No harm done, we fended off successfully and I let the bow fall off on the other tack (actually it just went there) and then I ran down wind reducing sail and speed under better control, back into the marina. A friendly harbour master vessel witnessed the problem we had and took us in tow out of the marina and I was able to get below and sort the situation fairly easily (I had a good idea what the problem was already) and we began our trip up the River Rance with red faces, passing through the lock to the side of the River Rance Hydro Electric Barrage - which utilises tidal flow to generate electricity. We picked up a buoy and stopped for lunch outside a small port just in time to avoid a large rain storm and then carried on up the Rance towards Dinan.

Now, at this point it should be explained that the River Rance is tidal. In fact is tidal range is in the order of up to eight metres. However, the barrage mentioned earlier "modifies" the times and heights of the "normal" tides so tidal predictions for the area (available in almanacs) do not signify. The rivers height can stay steady at a given height for a couple of say six hours and then drop by eight meters in the space of two hours. Therefore, you have to get the tidal information from a number of sources along the river. One of these is the Ecluse de Chatelier (Chatelier Lock) which we had to pass through to get up to Dinan. I therefore telephoned ahead to ask what time the lock was operational (it being fairly obvious that if it's operation, there must be water. Back came the answer in French 1830 that evening. I repeated the time in French and English and my correspondent concurred. No problem then as we were going up about 1630.

We passed the small marina of Plouer sur Rance and with a careful eye on the echo sounder (depth gauge) nosed our way up a quickly narrowing river. Doing so, you enter a different country and time apparently (no jest intended here). There are very few houses. The banks are lined with cliffs and thick forest from which the sound of birdsong is very loud. We passed a couple of old tidal mills (one had been superbly refurbished and turned into a home nestling amongst the trees with its own small wharf). We also passed some ancient fishing contraptions. These are huts built out over the edge of the river on high stilts (12'). Extending from the hut is a sort of wooden crane jib which is raised and lowered by the occupant of the hut by a pulley system. On the end of the jib is a rope which is attached to each corner of a large, square, horizontal net (about 12' again). The net is lowered into the water, onto the river bed and then at intervals, raised to see what has been caught. There are quite a number of them, perhaps 20 or 30, and we witnessed they're use. It was like a scene from the far east; you expected a sanpan to come around the next bend in the river.

Anyway, I digress somewhat from my confessional of cock ups. There we were, nosing up the river and following the very good buoyed channel. The echo-sounder started beeping a warning as the depth dropped below two metres (we draw one metre with the lifting keel lifted) and the depth continued to drop. 1.5, 1.4, 1.2��.0.9. I decided it was time to pull out and turned gently (I didn't want to slew sideways onto a mudbank). We got round into the other direction and Pauline said "we're stuck, we're not moving". I believed we were as I was looking at a transit (you align two fixed points on the land and if theyre moving relatively then you must be moving - you use this a lot in sailing to make sure your on the right course) and I could see it was changing although Pauline felt that it was only the bow swinging round - which was possible. I had be using low engine revs to go slowly to avoid digging into the muddy bottom but her observation made me through caution to the wind. I increased speed and Magicienne definitely moved forward more quickly. We breathed a sigh of relief. Then the boat slowed quickly pitching us slightly forward quite perceptibly. Time for action. Maximum revs and she slowly moved again, churning up billows of muddy water astern. Slowly gaining speed, we returned to deeper water and scuttled down to the marina we'd passed at Plouer; on the way getting caught out in another enormous rain storm which was great fun (there's so much heavy rain that the surface of the water completely disappears and becomes a milky white mist). So, we'd made another mistake although I'm pretty sure of my conversation with Chatelier Lock. When I checked the times and depths at the marina, the last lock was in fact a 1630 so we had a very lucky escape from sitting at a very awkward angleon the mud in the middle of nowhere all night! - although I don't think any damage or harm would have been done.

This little episode had it's up side though inasmuch as we'd passed a chap called Gideon on the river in an inflatable sailing dinghy and passed the time of day. He was in fact in Plouer marina and he invited us