An Adited Version

June 20, 2017

About To Depart

So, the day is coming close (Saturday 24th June) when "Goose" shall set sail from Carrickfergus with a view to travelling right around the coast of Ireland over the following number of weeks. Three of us will be aboard for the whole journey - Cap'n Diarmuid, 1st Mate Mark and lowly me (Neil). It is my hope that all three shall turn their hand to penning the odd post here - albeit, given my minimal experience of this boating lark, such non-nautical tasks (cooking, swabbing the decks, cleaning the toilets and including blogging) may initially fall to me. 

On top of this we will be hosting a few stowaways as we progress – the first being Diarmuid’s brother Kevin who shall hop aboard as we set off and attempt to remain on board all the way down to Dun Laoghaire.

More of all this anon, as this post is really just to get things up and running (floating?) – suffice to say for the moment that en route we are raising money for Friends of the Cancer Centre -anyone feeling flush could visit https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/IrelandSail - and a big thanks to all who have already contributed.

Introduction

So I thought it might be appropriate to introduce the boat and the intention. Our trusty vessel is a classic ...a Contessa 32 'Goose' (formerly Aislin). She was built in Toronto by the first owner Declan Mackle the Belfast born round the world yachtsman when he worked in Contessa manufacture there. She is a fine bespoke vessel and after sailing her back to Ireland 10 years ago Declan sold her and she was based on the island of Skye until I bought her last year.

So off we go. Our first leg takes us from Carrickfergus out Belfast Lough and, weather permitting, through Copeland sound (the scene of my knuckle whitening ride through the race last week!)

The Copeland Islands are known as the one time residence of a primitive and extinct people, the Arleni. They were heavy set with a low centre of gravity, built for traction rather than elegance. Their feet, arms and hands were extraordinarily large to give purchase against the prevailing northerly winds and leading to the endearing name of 'knuckle trailers'. These limbs were not  proportionately related to their reproductive appendages (a somewhat presidential deficit) and the low rate of reproduction coupled with their resistance to the principles of evolution, lead to their eventual demise. Less pure genetic traces are still to be found in certain politicians to this day. 

But I digress. After passing through the sound we run down along the eastern shore of the Ards peninsula, past the entrance to Strangford Lough and on to Ardglass. The marina there has been opened for just over 20 years and has been, for all that time,  managed by Freddy an amiable helpful man. His own genetic lineage might be of some interest (possibly a royal and and noble past) but that's probably best left more worthy analysis than I can offer?The estimated time for this trip is circa 7 hours and the next instalment will give details of how we fared. For now I'll sign off and anticipate the best. 

Day One

Day one complete though not without its trials. Copeland sound was a pussycat , thankfully nothing to compare with the last time. Mark did however try his best to put us in the rocks but his fellow crew were too sharp for that. We had a fairly steady force four from the west which made for great sailing conditions and with the tide under us we were making a good 7 knots over ground for the first few hours. Eventually the growing swell afforded mal de mare a finger hold reducing our compliment to two. Shortly after that the skipper had a pretty nasty nose bleed not as a consequence of any mutinous altercation but entirely unsolicited. For safety we dropped the sail and motored the last hour or two to Ardglass in case the skipper bled to death and required burial at sea!

The marina was pretty busy but we squeezed in and had some grub and set about some cleaning and maintenance. After dinner I wish I could report a trail of broken hearts in the fleshpots of this coastal playground!  Sad to say the 5am start left us pretty whacked so we were in our bunks by nine zzzz

A Day in Ardglass

So our Sunday in Ardglass seemed to sail by if you'll pardon the expression. Mark and I kind of pottered until Kevin Og picked us up and took us on the scenic route via Downpatrick to Strangford for Sunday dinner. We managed to pick up a few bits and pieces enroute  and after dining in style were delivered safely back to the trusty Goose laden with goodies from the best shop on Strangford Square (Kevin Og's)This was just in time for our third core crew member Neil. Unfortunately the hangdog look Neil greeted us with heralded a tale of revelry followed by ambulances, hospitals and sleepless nights...must have been something he ate?  Anyway Joanna and Miriam who delivered him to us gave no quarter and were clearly delighted to see him pressganged for his minor yet dramatic transgression. They wished us a fond farewell and headed for home leaving us to get on with things. 

So Goose, with her core compliment of crew departed Ardglass at ten to nine that evening ....our next port of call Dunlaoghaire

There was practically no wind so we motored a few miles off shore Then altered course to 200degrees for Howth head and settled into our routine for the night but not before a little zephyr gave us cause for optimism and a raised mainsail. It was a steady yet pleasant motor sail through the night with two crew on watch every hour while the third got some rest. 

At 4.00am a large school of dolphins joined us and played about us for a full twenty minutes, lifting our spirits just as the sun was rising. Rockabill light was abeam by 5.00am and we were berthed in Dunlaoghaire by 8.15 and managed a few hours sleep before being joined by Diarmuid Og for the run to Arklow. Diarmuid is a renowned sailor though his career has been dogged by engine problems in the past. This proved to be no hinderance on this occasion and in the absence of any wind we motored out of port and through Dalkey sound with Diarmuid Og on helm. The lack of wind proved persistent and in calm and pleasant conditions we motored all the way to Arklow arriving at 5.30pm.

After a hearty meal Diarmuid Og headed off to catch a boat home and all was well on the good ship Goose.    
The aim is to circumnavigate Ireland - and stay dry.

Lovely Arklow

June 28, 2017

So, I should point out to all that the recent blog posts, of a more nautical bent than my initial ramblings, were penned by our illustrious skipper, a certain Diarmuid Kearney. When it comes to the more technical elements of the trip, I fell it will be he (or at worst Mark, relatively competent at sea), rather than myself, who shall be keeping you informed. However, should the need arise for a post concerning the number of days one can squeeze out of a single pair of boxer shorts without submitting to scurvy  (touch and go) or how best to cause strife and tension in a small group, then I'm your man!

To date it has been hard to find time to get these posts up. The days sort of run away with you and come the evening we're all somewhat bushed. The vision our audience has of our time is I fear somewhat rosy-cheeked. This is no pleasure cruise! And you all know that I am not one to complain!

However, we have some time today as after an initial wee sojourn out from Arklow yesterday with a view to "getting round the corner" (Cap'n D will provide the correct terminology and reasoning anon), discretion won the day. There was the likelihood of heavier going a couple of hours ahead when we would have been straight into the wind with "wind against tide" (I have picked up something along the way ..... other than the scurvy), so we headed back for the safe arms of the belles of Arklow.

Till the next time, your trusty deckhand,
Neilio

A poem penned for us.

June 30, 2017

Fair winds & a following Sea-Bon Voyage!
Contessa 32 "goose"
Docked at Arklow, 

submerging keels in salty water depths

waiting hours, running into days rising like eternity.

Her flag lightly flutters under ceiling of stars, she's poised

to leave in rhythm with ebb & flow of tides, rocking steadily 

side to side for everything to pull together,

holding moments for the off when the water builds up 

& catches the fore of her broadside so she can fly

full sheets & a rolling Sea!

By Susan O'Toole.

Five long days

June 30, 2017

Five long nights in Arklow town
Much longer than we ought'er
Five long nights just messin' around
Bunkin' down, on the water


Some say a sign of madness is when one starts thinking in rhymes. Enough said.

We planned to set sail from lovely Arklow slighly before the crack of dawn tomorrow at 4am, availing of both tide and wind. However, due to a couple of unforseen circumstances, the collective decision was taken to "abandon ship" here and head for drier climes until the great journey can be resumed post the big wedding in Dingle next week.

Whilst somewhat disappointing, this has the added benefit of allowing us the opportunity to revisit Arklow much earlier than we could have hoped for, even in our wildest dreams! The launderette quarter, barber town - in every second doorway a dodgy hirsute old man wielding a cut-throat, atmospheric market places with exotic names - Aldi, Dunnes. Who could resist another sojourn here. And so soon!

So - for the moment, we will cease to pen these widely anticipated publications, but rest assured that they will be resumed post a lengthy break for the wedding.

Step We Gayly On We Go ...... Bound For Míde's Wedding

July 23, 2017

So we left you all in Lovely Arklow some weeks past. Due to circumstances beyond our control we were forced to temporarily abandon ship there for a few weeks and scuttle down to Dingle for the wedding of our skipper's youngest daughter Míde and Limerick's own Adam.

But not before I penned a wee ditty in honour of our attempts to get there under sail. I'm not allowed to sing it under wife's orders but should you wish to amuse yourselves the chorus goes something along the lines of Lannigan' s ball.

Three men set out from Belfast town
A mate from Skib and one from Tipp
The cap'n born near Sailortown
Goose painted on their trusty ship

For Dingle they did set their sail
Across the treacherous water
To see the lad from Limerick hail
Marry the skipper's daughter

CHORUS
Five long nights in Arklow town
Much longer than we ought'er
Five long nights just messin' around
Dreamin' on the water

The womenfolk had said their byes
And through the night they laboured
Till two leagues South of Dublin's skys
They sought a harbour saviour

'Twas here an extra hand did board
To steer them down past Wicklow
Avoiding all those coffin shores
And end up safe in Arklow

CHORUS

And there they holed up for the week
Avoiding seas too heaving
Ensuring Goose would never leak
When time came for their leaving

Against them went the seas and tides
So hunkered down they stayed there
The waves did crash against her side's
As plans were fast re-made there

CHORUS

SLOW VERSE
Yet here we are in Dingle town
To where we all have tarried
'Spite all that tried to put us down
And these two lovers married

Off Again

And what a wedding....

But we're off again. The Skipper (myself) headed down on to Arklow on Wednesday evening and managed to squeeze in a haircut in the barbers quarter ...sample the temptations of the forbidden aisle in Dunnes Stores (territory forbidden by our quartermaster on account of its more expensive though 'fresh' scones) and generally make things shipshape for the crews arrival on the Friday. They duly arrived with, barely containable excitement at the prospect of another night in lovely Arklow. It was indeed a evening full of revelries and jollity rounded off by a game of 25 a cup of tea and we were safe in our bunks by 10.00 pm

A Danish boat left just ahead of us at 7.30 headed for Kilmore Quay and on across Biscay to the Canaries....but we had greater adventures in store...we'd got wind there was a brand new TurboJet90 hand dryer in the Dunmore East shower block...our anticipation of closer inspection was unprecedented....sod the Canaries...Dunmore East is the happenin place.

Full of enthusiasm and medication we headed out to our first cardinal marker the southward bound we were for exotic county Waterford!

In truth the day was poor sailing weather and challenging in parts. Rounding the Tuskar light proved to be a roller coaster with steep and confused swells of 10' to 14' inviting Maladie de la mer upon the saltiest of sea dogs....indeed one of our number succumbed .....or was it maladie imaginaire that invited the opportunity for a cosy bunk rather than the roaring billows of the coffin coast. Whatever the cause we were left with two able bodied souls on board...but we were made of stern stuff and braved the perils of the briney to bring our trusty ship safe to Dunmore !

Passing the Saltee Islands our Skipper gave rendition to a little known old sea shanty from these parts giving the history of a unique breed of canine from hereabouts that swam competently and were preserved in brine by the islanders for sustenance in the stormy winter months. Thus originated the now much misunderstood term 'saltee sea dog'

Our weary bones were rested at last in the pleasant and hospitable town of Dunmore East, where the natives are friendly and the hand dryers above average!!! 

Dunmore

Our arrival in Dunmore was late enough and by the time we had tied up it was almost 21.00.  So with little energy for preparing a meal we ventured a short distance to feast on the gastronomic delicacies of the local Spar  (sandwiches and crisps!) followed by a pint in the local tavern. Mark who did not avail of his ration of rum returned to the boat with cream crackers and tomato soup for his own private feast.  This proved to be the low point of our stay in beautiful Dunmore...next morning our mood was lifted when we phoned the Harbour Master to register our arrival and seek assistance in securing the services of a competent diesel engineer...he was cheerful and pleasant beyond expectation (it was 9.00 on a Sunday morning!) and advised us that David the Harbour Operative would be with us at 10.00 and that Eddie the engineer would be with us by 11.00.

We were surrounded by a group who had cruised in company from Wales for the weekend.  The four yachts ahead of us had partied hard late into the night singing their only (and incomplete) version of 'when I'm 54' many times.  One of their number did apologise for the noise in the morning but explained it was a birthday party.  When we enquired if the birthday boy was 54 he answered,  "No...57?"

The other welsh sailors berthed inside us were a more serious bunch entirely.  They had devised a plan for how they might slip away allowing us to tie up on the pontoon without the need to start our somewhat under the weather engine....this worked perfectly and no sooner had they gone when David arrived in his high viz jacket. Mark accompanied him to the office where he registered and was issued with a key fob for the shower block......can you imagine....free access to the TurboJet90 24 hours a day....no wonder we were in high spirits.

 Eddie then arrived and proved to be entertaining and highly competent...a fantastic mix of attributes...and we explained we had experienced falling revs the previous day and speculated it was fuel filter issues.  This was rapidly confirmed when Eddie removed the primary filter and it was "boggin".  But worse was to come...we had a diesel algae growing in our tank...the dread of any yachtsman.  We were treated to a lesson in filter replacement, a lecture on seed breed and generation of Eddies clan, a whistlestop tour of the ailments afflicting our generation, a career resume and the occasional hearty joke thrown in.  Eddie departed with a poor quality ziplock bag filled with waste fuel and old filters (Tesco are the benchmark ziplocks aparently!) as our engine purred reassuringly in the background..we were repaired...well for now at any rate!

Neil headed off to find the recommended beach for a swim and his usual display of athleticism, tricks and foolishness designed to draw cheers and applause from impressed onlookers but resulting, more often, in yawns and tedium.  Still it keeps him out of trouble and had the added benefit of allowing him to explore the town and its facilities.  Within the hour he'd phoned the boat with news of a variety of establishments that would provide us with the sustenance we required. Mark and the Skipper headed off to meet him and soon we were dining on the most delicious (and reasonably priced) fish and chips for miles.  This was followed by the required 'Sunday seaside poke' and a stroll back to the boat.  On the way we were disappointed to discover that Mr Fanny and his special guest Dusty Flaps had played the local hotel the previous evening but consoled ourselves in the knowledge that we would have been too tired to rise to the occasion!  Next time perhaps!

On returning to the boat we were joined by David who proved welcome and entertaining company.  He regaled us with tales of the rescues he'd been involves in as engineer of the lifeboat, his time as a herring fisherman, his career prospects, but most importantly with advice on a number of weather apps. that local fishermen use and are confident in...this would be a help when we reach the atlantic swells on the west coast!

Another day over and we were ready for our bunks once more.  Our trip tomorrow would be a long one and we would have an early start.  We had no one berthed outside which would help...but it made for a fitful sleep as we sat bolt upright at every little sound anticipating the need to repel and late arrivals who attempted to tie up along side us. This proved to be a useless exercise, not only because there were no attempts to tie up, but because Neil had been looking out of the port rather than starboard porthole through the night....nuff said!

Off To Kinsale

And so we head for Kinsale. A popular staging post for boats from all over the world and a pretty town with lots of goings on. 

Our start was early (5.15am) somewhat delayed my Marks last minute ablutions before departure but necessary to ensure a comfortable passage!

As we left Dunmore East, Lir (The Celtic god of the seas) was indeed smiling on us. We were treated to a spectacular sunrise over Hook Head and escorted out of the inlet by a school of dolphins...a good omen heralding a day that was to be our best sail yet. The wind was to the north west force 3 occasionally 4, though more often  2 and we were close hauled in full sail. This is a point of sail loved by Goose, occasionally dipping her rail in the waves in a gust and finding her groove for good jaunt across the south coast. The wind did drop at times and we resorted to motor sailing but this was short lived. At one point the Skipper was dozing below when the crew cut the engine to test if there was sufficient wind. He sat bolt upright scowling up into the cockpit sure that things were not right. Reassurance from above soon calmed his anguish and he returned to sweet slumber.

We made better time than anticipated and by early evening we were preceded and followed by two French boats towards the sailing club Marin and were shortly secured. The Skipper and Neil were dispatched to the clubhouse bar to register and shower ,an excercise taking longer than anticipated and resulting in a significant tipsiness on their return.  Mark had started to cook and we feasted on frittata as we waxed nautical on the days events. The evening was polished off with another pint for the main offenders while Mark enjoyed a hearty pudding in a local hostelry as we were entertained by a session complete with dancers. All was good with the world as we retired to our bunks having purchased the makings of a good lunch for our next days sail to Marks home port of Baltimore, a town ravaged by pirates and holidaying Dublin legal types but one which would mark a certain achievement on our circumnavigation. 

Again we were escorted out of port by dolphins and while this was welcomed it did not herald fair winds. In barely a puff we motored for hours before we were treated to a short motor sail...but that wasn't to last either. The fog/sea mist that had threatened all day closed in as we approached the Stags and were it not for our satnav we would have been lost...literally!  It was a strange and silent atmosphere as the screen coupled with Marks local knowledge guided us into Baltimore harbour.  We tied up on the pontoon and we're informed that there were to be no visitors berths as a result of the poor weather so we inflated our tender and managed to secure a visitors mourning for our stay. Maireita arrived (Marks wife and the Skippers sister) to ferry us to their warm and welcoming abode but not before Goose had been secured on the mooring and our, slowly disintegrating, tender was safe in the inner harbour. Off we set determined to shower, sleep, renew our supply of fuel filters and replace Goose's tender with that from Pirate Nel (Marks Boat).  

Welcomed and amply fed we were to sleep in proper beds....could this make softies of us?  Time will tell.

A few pics of trip so far.

July 27, 2017

Leaving Kinsale

Leaving Kinsale

Le Skipper Old Head of Kinsale Lighthouse

Leaving Dunmore early morning

Hook Head lighthouse going into Dunmore East Again leaving Dunmore early morning.

Tuskar Rock

Skipper turns French for a day hence avec Le Beret noir

Goose in Arklow

Another Poem From Susan

GOOSE
By the wobble of the "Goose!"
In the shudder of the rudder &
the shadow of the stern.
A mug of tea & bolt hole for a wee while...
Then Topside, to watch the World's
wild dance of molecules, move
with the sea. 
"Goose" on side sail, strokes
this cool curve of rolling moon, rocking
In the arms of the Ocean, coming in & out of view
passing in time & space, 
bearing off the falling wind into
the sails.

Rescue At Sea

Baltimore has been a combination of pleasure and frustration. Our stay with Maireita and Mark was a treat, though the fine food and soft beds were difficult to leave. The continued bad weather and difficulty in finding replacement fuel filters did irritate somewhat. Still, we were able to leave that pleasant port at 8.30 am on Sunday with fresh fuel filters and the addition of a bug eating chemical to our fuel tank. 

Once out of Baltimore we put a reef in the main and motor sailed through a considerable swell towards the Fastnet. It was a bumpy and challenging run out but the reward of seeing this iconic obelisk bathed in sunlight while all about it raged was a treat indeed. As our course swung towards Mizen head we hoped to manage a better sail but the wind swung on our nose and we continued to drive into increasing swell. Goose proved her worth as a seaworthy vessel managing well and leaving its crew feeling safe and reassured. 

On we drove towards the Bull, heifer and calf rocks where, after passing to windward we would have a broad reach into Kenmare river provided we could manage the heavy swell on our beam!

The engine had been dropping revs yet again and as we were passing west of Bull rock it cut out entirely. The Skipper ran below to try and start her while Mark adjusted course to take us off the rocks. Efforts to restart were fruitless and given the swell, our position and the likelihood of increased wind the Skipper put in a radio call to Valentia Coast Guard. Once they'd determined we were out of immediate danger they advised us that Castletownbere lifeboat would be with us in approximately 1 hour   We took up a holding position sailing westward at 1 to 1.5 knots and waited shame faced for our rescuers arrival. We should not have had the confidence we had in an engine, or rather a fuel supply, that had proven so unreliable. Our dependence on the miracle, bug eating additive proved misplaced and resulted in the rescue services coming to our aid. The RNLI is not the AA and dependence on them should be avoided. Still when our heroes arrived they were non-judgemental, efficient and pleasant beyond reason (given our interruption of their Sunday afternoon!).

They radioed ahead asking us to drop our sails and make ready to take a line on board. The Skipper did this and it wasn't long before we were secured to this powerful knight of the seas and on route to Castletown Berehaven a Haven indeed for us. 

The Skipper however remained on deck in despondent mood...was this an interruption to our adventure or its termination?  Only time would tell!  Independently Neil and Mark sat in the cockpit ruminating on our predicament and considering options. It had been a slap in the face with a wet fish for us all!

21.00 saw us deposited alongside the fishing boat Staronia II. Feeling damp and miserable we did our best to make for a comfortable night, phoned our loved ones to share our pessimism and took to our bunks. 

The RNLI is a remarkable organisation. Voluntary donations and voluntary action by the crews save countless lives and provide reassurance for such as us. They deserve our gratitude and support in abundance.

Take me home Castletown Castletownbere has been good to us...as have its nautical natives. The morning after our 'evening of shame' saw all and sundry leap to our attention. Mide and Adam had been on the blower early and their friend Fiona (RNLI Organiser for County Cork) had emailed the Castletown station to ensure we were 'looked after' while another friend , Ian, who hails from these parts was assisting (from a tanker in the Caribbean) in our finding a quality diesel engineer to make good our fuel system. Ian's mammy even arrived on the Quay to ensure we had all we needed for our stay and to advise us of the best bars for the 'craic'! A short sojourn to the Harbour Master's office was an equally pleasant encounter with reassurance of our secure berth at a rate that 'wouldn't break the bank', good news indeed for our quartermaster whose hold on the purse strings has brought on early rheumatic symptoms! A wander around the town and a few phone calls later saw us lounging on deck awaiting developments. Neil at this point set off to replenish our drinking water and returned with a  weatherbeaten and lively kiwi, Phil, from the wooden ketch anchored off the Quay.  The whisky was uncorked and we were entertained with tales of high adventure. Phil and his wife Linda, have been at sea for over a quarter of a century they have reared and educated a family of three on board.  The kids are now back in New Zealand raising their own families as the pair wander on with their second circumnavigation of this globe we live on. Phil's tales of traveling the world could be summarised as ' Patagonia is beautiful, safe and friendly...but the Caribbean is a "shit hole" ...clearly a man schooled in the oratorical finesses of the Southern Hemisphere !  The Skipper called the engineer to be informed work would commence at 8.30am. Phil was waved a fond farewell with promises of a pint in Mc Carthy's next evening and we took to our bunks once more.  Ger O'Shea and his mate Donagh we're on board at the allotted time and our diagnosis confirmed. They set about the mammoth task of draining the tank, flushing the hoses and changing the filters which they did with great thoroughness and had the engine purring again within three hours.Then they drove us to replenish our fuel cans, made a detour to order spare filters and charged us €100 for the lot. The fresh filters they brought were worth €40 so it was embarrassingly reasonable but indicative of the generosity of the good people of the Beara. Thanks lads you were stars! While our engine was sound once more, but yet to be tested, the weather was closing in. Mark took the opportunity to give the decks a good scrubbing before lunch. Goose was sparkling once more. As we were below deck munching on sea biscuits and salt pork we were hailed from outside. Words to the effect of 'hey ye feckers!' made the identity of our piratical pest obvious. Phil had rowed over with reports of who knows what?...but after a pleasant interlude he was off again to explore the harbour.   Our meal that evening was a culinary treat indeed. Neil, ever careful to save on expenditure had gone fishing. His bountiful catch was cooked to perfection and we were then in need of a proper meal which Mark provided...delicious!! Mark was weary from a busy day so passed on our rendezvous in Mc Carthy's. Neil and the Skipper headed for the bright lights for a few pints and a pleasant hour or two with Phil and Linda (a mellow and tolerant soul with roots in Galway) and another couple  Claire and Barry who had just finished this years effort in a two season kayak circumnavigation. Claire is from Portavogie and Barry is a scouse and we swapped tales a plenty, including reports of Claire's childhood trips to Kevin Ogs for ice cream...the legend lives on!!! Preparations are afoot for a festival in town and we may have to anchor off the Quay as all the local boats come home for the festivities...still it's almost time to cast adrift from Castletown where the women are handsome and the men engineering Nureyev's! The two diesel engineers traversing fishing boat to get to Goose.

Phil, Linda, Claire and Barry. (D asked me to put up this photo which I, Neil, took. I object to it as while the two boys are looking at me, both the girls are obviously under Diarmuid's spell and paying me no attention whatsoever. )

Snaps and Science

August 03, 2017

We sometimes ponder as we put up these posts on the blog as to whether anyone (other than the 3 of us on this Ship of Fools) actually reads these ramblings. So, in the interest of scientific survey number 2 (more on the primary survey later), could we request that the odd person might leave a comment on the blog, just to slightly dissipate that feeling that we may be broadcasting to an unlistening world. No matter the content of the comments, it would surely lighten the hearts of these 3 lonely yet intrepid explorers.

In an attempt to bring a bit of colour to our witterings, Diarmuid requested that I might upload a few "snaps" (a task which appears to be beyond the capabilities of his antique and barely functioning iPhone - said device requiring hourly recharges and utilising 90% of the actual power reserves on the boat).

Approaching Fastnet

And there she is

Around Mizen - as far from home as we will be - hopefully!

A woeful skipper - the crew daren't utter a word!

Relief from said woes

Dinner for three!

As with all such mighty and dangerous expeditions, a la Scott or Shackelton, there is always a scientific exploration element to the odyssey. As a yet uncharted topic we took it on ourselves to conduct an extensive survey of the toilet hand dryers of the ports of Ireland and outlying island havens. To the untutored amongst our readership, this may seem a somewhat tame undertaking, but the number of times, and the inherent dangers therein, when Mark has had to waylay someone at the toilet doors so as Diarmuid is not caught red handed taking multiple photos in public bathrooms would belie that assumption. Following are examples of some of his better work shot during his "Beara peninsula" period:-

A breakfast location in Castletownbere - only 2 out of 10

Brand new Dyson (guarantee still on it) in fisherman's new shower block) - 8/10

Public toilets on the quay - newly opened yesterday - 5/10. A highly dangerous shooting.

Dryer 1 in McCarthys - note the postit - hence not entered in competition but included for those of an academic bent.

The target of the postit.  A beautiful retro number. Only gets 5/10 on performance but will undoubtedly top the Seniors section for style. The lines! The lighting! The fact that's it's the size of a small fridge! Stunning.

The weather was closing in again so we were uncertain about when we might get away. A call from the Harbour Master, suggesting we may have to move to anchor because of the volume of fishing boats in for the festival, reinforced it was high time we moved on...but the weather wasn't in our favour.   The HM, Cormac Mc Ginley (a fine Donegal name...but its owner sang out in a lilting Cork accent) decided instead to move us to another berth along the pontoon. When asked what dues we owed he declared it 'force majeure'....a big fat zero! His generosity was duly rewarded with a bottle of Bushmills and after hearing his plans for restoring a fine sailing vessel to visit distant shores on his retirement we bade him adieu and headed back to Goose. 

Off To Dingle

The night was a blustery one with the wind howling in our rigging, but it dawned fair. With the heat of the sun on our backs we found our spirits  and confidence lifted and decided to make a dash for Dingle (well, a twelve hour dash!). So off we flew!  The swell grew as we moved from the shelter of Bere Island and even more as we reached the open water outside the Bull, scene of our 'little incident' a few days earlier. 

Having purchased a new fitting for our tiller pilot the crew were determined to give it a lash. And quelle surprise it worked a treat. Goose was sailing all on her own leaving time for us to busy ourselves with all the never ending tasks onboard...instead we dozed!

All of a sudden there was a hideous sound from the engine! Panic! We were snarled on a lobster pot. Getting rope wrapped around the prop is a sailor's nightmare. Mark took the engine controls. The Skipper took the boathook. Neil 'Cousteau' Mc Quillan hunted for his wetsuit. Luckily we managed to free ourselves and Neil didn't have to go into the briny for us (or rather, to his certain death as the hull smashed against his skull in the 2 metre swell!).

Calypso...sorry ...Goose danced on once more. Can you imagine another call to the lifeboat from almost exactly the same location!!! The disgrace of it was too hideous to contemplate!  The lesson is plain though. A lookout is necessary at all times in inshore waters, especially when the tiller pilot is engaged. At least we were safe and better still...the wind was fair enough to sail, close hauled, towards Lemon Rock inside the Skelligs.  Goose was in flight and all was well with the world. After a short time, in truth probably 2 or 3 hours the wind backed. Too close for us to make it past the point and with insufficient time for us to tack up the cone, the iron topsail was hoisted once more and we motor sailed all the way to Dingle. 

We really have been slogging it out. Weather, fuel problems the Skipper's nose and swells so big as to make sailing a chore rather that a delight have left us weary and depleted. As we approached Dingle the Skipper asked the crew to consider leaving Goose in Dingle over winter to pick up on our circumnavigation in the spring?  We would have the energy and time to complete in comfort and could plan for shorter passages and hopefully have better weather. The decision was unanimous we would leave Goose in Dingle,  though our feelings were ambiguous. We had hoped to make it all the way round this year so there was some disappointment. But we had formed a good team, the Skipper and the 'odd couple' would live to sail another day!  We had raised nearly £1,600 for charity and could raise more next year, perhaps for the RNLI in Castletownbere? Our wives would be free of us for 3 or 4 weeks again next year! And most importantly we would have time to seek sponsorship, perhaps from Michelin, for the publication or our 'Guide to the Hand Dryers of Ireland's Coastal Counties'.  Seems like it's the best thing to do!

Peter at Dingle marina worked a way to allow us stay till spring (berths are at a premium with a long waiting list) and a yard in Valentia would allow us lift out for antifouling in April. And all for less than it would cost at home. The Quartermaster, quick as a flash (for normal people this is about the speed of a feint glimmer!) applied the €-£ conversation rates and celebrated by treating the good people of Dingle to one of his nimble hornpipes. The good people of Dingle were not impressed. He might just as well have been doing handstands underwater!

So it's farewell for now from Goose and her motley crew. And it's farewell to Dingle till the Spring, where the women are handsome and the men dress as dolphins and swim about for the tourists!

A Halt To The Inaction

The winter is finally moving on...and so it seems are we!   We have rejoined Goose although minus Neil.  His wife Jo had a slip on some steps in Australia a few weeks ago! The intrepid pair are home but Jo's leg is in a cast and requires Nurse Neil's undivided, understanding and un-complaining attention.  Two out of three might be a result!

Hopefully he may join us later on the voyage, but we have a replacement.  We have been joined by Siobhan...a skilled and companionable ruffian sailor with humour, banter and tales aplenty.

We have another addition as well.  Mark has brought along his fiddle to sooth our troubled hearts. The challenge is a tune for every port (hopefully more) and this, no doubt, will entice Goose to jig and reel over the briney as she carries us home.

Goose herself had a lonely and somewhat painful winter in Dingle.  Stern gland trouble resulted in some leakage (it happens us all as we get older) and the skippers fluctuating health meant she did not get the attention she deserved through those dark and desolate months.  A week spent by him on board in April saw most things sorted and we have re-joined our trusty vessel ready to take on the challenges of the Atlantic with a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation. Until we get underway there's always a little nervousness and the prospect of the notorious Atlantic swells will test our seapersonship and steady resolve.  Still We're up for the challenge.

The Cliffs of Doneen

Monday the 14th May sees us slip our lines at Dingle marina and move tentatively into the bay. We're off!

Kilrush has proven a much more enticing little funk hole than anticipated.  Full of history, culture and helpful inhabitants only too happy to lend a helping hand to the bemused and befuddled yachtsman. Our desires were varied ranging from phone repairs to g clamps and a tea pot.  (If anyone would like to purchase the glassless innerds of a caftiere we are willing to sell them at a reasonable rate!)  Not only were the inhabitants helpful but in Buggels bar (where we needlessly hoped Mark could tickle his strings) we came upon this..

An unassuming yet surprisingly efficient device perfectly matched to the somewhat shabby interior.  While not sophisticated it did lend an authenticity to the evening.

One point to mention is that although Kilrush was welcoming it did have one resident (dressed in a grey hoody) who stalked us but not without the eagle eyed Siobhan spotting him…. in all three bars we visited!  It could however have been a member of Special Branch who suspected Mark had something more sinister than a fiddle in his violin case!

Back at the marina the criac was 90!  Peter repaired our windlass  for the price of a pint. Mark and I repaired the stern gland, yet again. Siobhan baptised the new teapot and generally abused the marina staff.  To no small effect I might add...We paid €28 for 2 nights plus 4 showers.

 A bunch of young American guys had sailed down from Galway last night...been sick as dogs in the heavy swell and blown out three sails into the bargain. Siobhan advised them on the culinary niceties of 'fish head soup'.

Seeing the weather was due for improvement overnight we decided to leave the lock gates and head 2 hours out to Carrigaholt where

we could pick up a visitors mooring and be off earlier in the morning.  The run was stunning as Mark teased the dolphins with his fiddle.

 To bed per chance to sleep, per chance to dream...but not so soon...We were up at 1.30 adding another warp to the swinging mooring as the tide turned against wind.  And all this with a 5a.m. start...the joys of the sea.

To The Arans and Beyond

A 5 a.m. start was no joke....but we had a sweet sail away from the mooring as the sun rose over the Shannon.  A blissful day on the Atlantic. Sun and dolphins aplenty..but, as is our way, barely a breath of wind after 10a.m.

 A 12 hour run saw us on Inishmore for an early night and away again tomorrow...this time Inishbofin in our sights

The Run To Bofin

Local knowledge is a wonderful thing.  While hunting down a fresh water tap Mark came upon a salty sea dog on Inishmore who advised we set off at 6a.m. in order to catch the tide which would whip us up to Slyne Head at an amazing 18 knots!!

Given the tide in these parts run at 1 knot and Goose averages 5 or 6 knots we were willing to suspend our scepticism in favour of fantasy...so having feasted on a delicious stir fry followed be Grandma's tea Brack (Siobhan reckons we could live on Brack alone!)  we settled down for the shortest sleep imaginable.  Our heads had hardly touched our pillows when that hideous 5a.m. alarm had us up, breakfasting on hearty bowls of porridge and making ready for 'one more day on the Grey Funnel Line'.

Off we went and in full sail too on a slightly overcast but nonetheless delightful morn. Our speed over ground averaging 5.5 knots...damn local knowledge!

Conversations as we brave the briney are wide-ranging both in subject matter and in the the depths to which we delve. This particular crew however are not just brave and gallant but hold an abundance of knowledge, wisdom and sensitivity. Their erudite offerings punctuated with humour and song. I can't wait to get off this bloody boat!

  Delerious with the delight of finally having a good sailing day we were lulled into a false sense of security and on rounding Slyne Head were tossed about by some serious overfalls (probably the worst I've seen) but Marks steady hand on the helm saw us through the tempestuous and turbulent seas. What a guy!

As if in a chorus of celebration on 'rounding the cape'  our larynx's warbled with a medley of sea shanty's  and other, melodious ( or should that be malodourous ) tunes.  Our spirits were lifted and we were off to Inishbofin for a few days to weather a gale coming up from the south.

Boffin harbour has a quirky and puzzling entrance but once negotiated it opens into a glorious little bay with all one needs for a short sojourn on dry land.

We anchored after what had been a pretty exhausting 10 hour run next to an American boat and after a collective and relieved sigh headed off for some pub grub...but not before Mark had stripped the engine of the outboard and got it purring like a kitten!  Oars are only for buffoons on Boffin

Postscript

We were joined on this jaunt by a school of what must have been in excess of 50 dolphins that stayed with us for 3 or 4 hours. Quite an experience!  Mark got some great footage.

Exploring Inishbofin

The storm on Inishbofin has been something to put the wind up the best of us.  Siobhan took this photograph (of another photograph in the community centre)...our storm was not quite up to this standard!! Before it even hit us however we were up during the night..alerted by our anchor alarm as we were dragging anchor!  We managed to secure but it did lead to a somewhat anxious night.  Next morning, a little bedraggled, we got our acts together and sorted the outboard for another trip ashore.

Mark, assisted by the skipper tried and tried and tried.  They say if it sounds too good to be true...it probably is too good!  Our remarkably economic outboard is a piece of sh/t!!  Worse than useless, it conspires to frustrate and agitate.  Mark's patience is unmatched. He strips it down and tweaks every tweakable bit!  But to no avail!  It was a row to the pier for himself and Siobhan in search of showers and a few supplies.

 The community centre though unlocked had no hot water despite the best efforts of Rory, a young lad who was there to use the gym.  When the supervisor eventually did arrive she was none too pleased. She did agree to deliver the wash that the crew had placed in the washing machine to the pier later...then she ejected the pair!

Fortunately a helpful couple made a few calls and soon Andrew Murry arrived in a minibus to take them to his hotel where he provided showers (and lifts) for free.  What a nice man.  It turned out he'd played guitar and provided vocals for De Dannan in the late nineties early naughties...was a sailor and a source great support and advice during our stay...more later.

Meanwhile the Skipper was on Goose dusting and polishing the brass and decided that, at anchor in the middle of the natural harbour, it was the perfect opportunity for a strip wash!  That was until, as he stood naked as the day he was born, next to the companionway, the ferry passed packed with passengers curious about what things looked like inside a sailing yacht! No doubt their holiday memoirs will include tales of their sighting of Moby Dick!!

 As Mark was rowing the tender back to Goose through the teeth of the gale the anchor started to drag again...Mark came aboard just in time to help raise the offending article, and his news of advice from Andrew Murry that we could tie up against the roro ferry for the worst of the storm was welcome relief! We did just that and after dinner were able to scramble over the ferry to have a pint in the harbour bar.  Unfortunately a wedding party from the mainland, best described as 'not our type' had occupied the place!  We charged our phones and made a quick getaway. Sometimes it's best that we live to fight another day!  And so to bed....but not without some of Siobhan's 'original' photographs of this unique and welcoming place.

Buffoons On Bofin

The remainder of our time on the island was a peculiar mix of frustration and enjoyment.  Frustration at being stormbound and enjoyment of the fine scenery and even finer people we met. The second full day was grey and wet.  No finer weather to visit Murray's Hotel for cards by the fire.  This proved a rewarding decision. Drink, food and cards were all to our liking and our hosts proved just as welcoming as the had been on our first day.  As the place filled we were introduced to many regular, and not so regular, customers.  Foremost was Fionan, a nephew of Andrews, who'd studied at Ringaskiddy as a marine engineer. He waxed nautical with us for a bit and agreed to cast his eye over our dodgy stern gland next day, when he got a break from the Island Ferry.  This he surly did and confirmed we were 'unlikely' to sink before we reached Killybegs where it should be easily sorted. He showed us his own boat and the new curragh which all the nephews and nieces had clubbed in to buy Andrew for his birthday. A fine vessel.

Fionan was especially amused by our outboard which he had spotted from the ferry ...perhaps best not to repeat his observations.

The remainder of our stay was a mixture of coaxing local fishermen to sell us some crab claws

. .. continued outrageous outboard occurrences and moving to a mooring kindly offered to us.

Our final day saw 'incredible' developments.  Mark, who has the patience and perseverance of a patient and persevering person managed to get the offending outboard purring like a kitten.  He and Siobhan headed off to explore a local ruin while the skipper had another of his strip washes, hoping the ferry might pass.  Later that trusty outboard took himself and Mark to the Island shop for rations...but alas they forgot the kitty...a return jaunt to the boat saw said rations purchased  including three Soleros for all three crew to luxuriate on deck with...and this despite Siobhan’s protestations that her shipmates have the brains of plankton and are never to be trusted with shopping again.  Wednesday morning was to see us up at the crack of dawn for the run to Broadhaven....and so to sleep per chance to dream.

Broadhaven Or Bust

An early start with us slipping our mooring at 6a.m. in fine spirit and singing our hearts out, joyous to be at sea once more.  The joy was short lived...as passing through the sound we struck bottom.  We had been advised locally that there was sufficient water...what was charted at 10ft was less that 6ft and the consequence chastened us considerably.  About turn and a more laborious long way round saw us on our way.  The American boat that had been moored alongside us had promised to depart for Frenchport, but there was no sign of life.  We were alone on the Atlantic and the mood was lifting again.  Soon we were singing once more as we moved up the west coast.

Our destination Broadhaven and our jump off for crossing the huge Donegal bay the next day.  On arrival we anchored next to the lifeboat.  A local fishermen offered us a lift to the local shop...but as it was a 20k round trip and all we wanted were Soleros we thought it best not to accept.  Anchor alarm set we hit our bunks with great enthusiasm...but a 2.30am false alarm had the skipper on deck...the fault was his own.  He'd set the distance limit too tight.  His appreciative crew were gentle on him..despite the 5a.m. alarm set for the morning.

Donegal Over The Horizon

This had been a long anticipated days sailing.  It was to be our longest, with considerable time spent out of sight of land.  It was also a homecoming of sorts as the skippers second home!

Skipper Sets Foot In Donegal

The anchor was raised as dawn was breaking and we bade farewell to Mayo on a glorious morning.  Past the staggs and Buddha rock and we were soon in the wide expanse of Donegal Bay.

Winds were light but building and it wasn't too long before the main was doing more than steadying the ship.  What had been anticipated as a somewhat arduous haul turned into a stunning days sail, though Mark seemed particularly excited and almost salivated as Goose heeled with the wind.

It wasn't long before we were sailing under Slieve League, the highest sea cliffs in Europe, looking resplendent in the spring sunshine. (the cliffs that is…not us!)

 Killybegs was soon in our sights and there was an easing to our elation.  This was to be a hiatus in our odyssey with Siobhan taking her father off to a funeral in Bristol while the skipper would head back to Belfast to celebrate Brendan Mc Cabe's 60th.  Brendan had crewed Goose on her delivery trip from Kipp to Carrickfergus and as such, the skippers cap would always be doffed in his honour.

The sails were flaked like clockwork by this able crew and soon we were in a port that is the largest (by tonnage landed) in Europe. Two European titles in such close proximity did not however prevent Goose's company from sucking their teeth somewhat at the cost of our berthage, the most expensive to date, no amenities whatsoever and what’s more a charge for electricity and water!  The companionable ways of the Donegal natives soon had us disarmed however and after tidying the ship we were off to enjoy the gastronomic delights on offer. Mark also managed to track down some local support in repairing that persistent problem with our stern gland and Siobhan having talked her husband Stevie into leaving Island Magee at 4.30am the next morning to take us home, we went early to our bunks.

Mark being the only one to stay aboard during this short break, had no short task list.  On the skippers return the next day he discovered that Mark, despite some resistance from the local mechanic, had seen the stern gland fully repaired, sampled the sumptuous breakfasts available in the town, scrubbed Goose's hull and attended to many other necessary chores onboard.  Who says he was on holiday??

Marks Brreakfast

Miriam and Louise had driven the skipper back from Belfast and while they revived over coffee and pastries the crew headed off to replenish the ships stores. What a pleasure it was to shop without Neil, fresh produce and the occasional sortie in forbidden isles saw our trolley abundant and even including some unnecessary treats.  We were heady with excitement.

  On returning to the port we bade a fond farewell to M & L, stored our shopping, refuelled Goose and settled into a sleep full of anticipation and uncertainty about the weather.  Would it be fair enough to set off for Aranmore next morning?  Only time would tell.

.

Aranmore Beckons

We woke early with no small degree of anticipation.  The forecast was for force 4 and 5, but this was manageable and as Killybegs slept we slipped away from the pontoon and had the main up as we reached open water.  There was only a slight swell and soon we were sailing nicely along in a 3/4.  This was the kind of day Mark had hoped for (speed freak that he is!).  As we reached Slieve League we were on a reach and making over 5 knots.  Perfect!  ........But don't speak too soon!....It wasn't long before the wind had freshened and we were over canvased.  The wind velocity probably magnified by the downdraft from the cliffs. We reefed the main and reduced the jib. Just in case, we started the engine as we rounded the point off Rathlin O Byrne and set a course for outside of Aranmore.  It proved a pleasant sail and the sun was deceptively strong.  As we passed Dawros Bay, probably about five miles out, Neil's son Conor, who was holidaying in Rosbeg, was sure he saw us.  As we didn't encounter another sail that day he was probably right.

It's safest to pass Aranmore to the west then swing around and down the east to anchor on Aranmore Road.  This we did and as we approached, there was Exodus.  The American Boat that had anchored next to us on Inisbofin.  We dropped anchor in blistering heat and Mark launched the tender and fitted the outboard.  He had not set foot on the island before and was keen to feel it's soft turf under his feet. Off he sped the little engine humming contentedly....but alas the issues that had dogged it's performance emerged once more.  As Mark approached one of the piers he found it a little too industrial for his liking.  The engine having stopped he pulled the cord and while it started again the cord did not recoil!  He determined that he would not be rowing back out to Goose, so taking advantage he motored back out, knowing if the outboard stopped he would not be able to restart it!

The skipper sat in the cockpit musing on the delights of his promised Solero.  The purring engine as it approached had him salivating in pavlovian anticipation.  But without explanation Mark motored straight past Goose and on to Exodus!  The dejected skipper heard Mark welcomed onto Exodus with "I was worried about you".  It seems 'Hank the Yank' who sailed up from Inisbofin the same day as us had worried that we were too far offshore! We, on the other hand had been worried that Exodus had been too far inshore! Anyway we both survived to tell the tale.  When Mark returned to Goose the absence of the skippers Solero was explained and absolution given.  After a light supper we were in our bunks early and ready for an early start once more.

Around To Portsalon

Leaving Aranmore

Goose in the Bay Off Portsalon

We woke before the alarm and as both crew were alert and willing we set off early for Portsalon on Fannad head we hauled anchor at 5.30! Not much wind, so we motored along this spectacular stretch of coastline. Past the Rosses and on towards Marble Hill and Downings.  Passing the spectacular Tory Island we wondered if the King was receiving visitors but on second thoughts we decided to press on!    We had Fannad light in our sights and once we closed on it we swung to starboard and into the deep water fiord.  It seemed more than calm enough at Portsalon (still and hot as we have ever known Irish waters) and intending to anchor we spied a substantial visitors mooring and duly picked it up and made fast.

Neil was to join us here and he was a keenly anticipated addition to our crew, having sailed with us from Ardglass to Dingle he didn't take long recognising Goose and we were no sooner tied up than our phones were hopping.  It was Neil eager to come aboard.  He was advised that the outboard required some attention and once complete we would be in to pick him up.  The attention required was significant and unsuccessful! After about 45 minutes the skipper decided to row in and perhaps dine in comfort with Neil before returning to Goose. Mark opted to stay aboard.

After two pints and a fish supper the land lubbers decided to head back to Goose.  Neil (possibly because he'd witnessed the skippers oarsmanship on his approach) opted to swim! A fair distance.... but he's a strong swimmer and the skipper agreed to stay close.

Despite the contents of his stomach Neil made it to Goose only to find the boarding ladder didn't function.  This resulted in a somewhat cumbersome boarding via the tender but once aboard the three motley crew were reunited and the evening was spent catching up on everyone's adventures and a plentitude of jovial bon compagnie. It was to be an easy sail next day... so...eventually the crew settled to sleep soundly.

Marine Boy Neil

Back In The Wee North

Was this a fishing trip? Or a circumnavigation by sail.  Today it was hard to tell!  And as ever our lines came to the surface devoid of  fish!  This did not prevent gales of laughter...but sadly our morning was without wind apart from that.  By lunch the wind picked up and we were on a broad reach all the way to Portrush.  A good days sail for Neil who remembered, only too well, that last year where too much or too little wind seemed our constant condition. The legendary twin islands of Inistrahull beckoned and as the skipper had never come close enough for full inspection, this was our opportunity.  There was something eerie and mysterious about them.  Abandoned many years ago the light still stands. The notion of rowing to this light is surely beyond modern comprehension.

The wind was building and we had a spanking sail into Portrush.  Neil has a house here and friends, Karen and Alfredo were staying there. They invited us to dinner and Siobhan and Neil opted for the offer of a cozy bed too! Siobhan was joining us once again to finish the trip and was a welcome addition.  We had a fantastic evening....great food...great wine...magnificent company, and to top it all Aide and Carmel, friends of Neil's had invited us to their guesthouse for breakfast!  The skipper had  sailed a Ruffian out of Portrush over thirty years ago and was pleased to hear from the Harbour Master that it is still active under the competent hands of it's owner Davy G.

Mark and the skipper retired repleat that evening.

Breakfast

In Search Of Dulse And Yellowman

After a hearty breakfast, thanks to Pier 39 we were off.  Just a short skip to Ballycastle and along one of the most spectacular coasts in the world.

 Winds and swell were light enough for us to pull right into the causeway then on to Ballintoy, Kenbane Head and finally to Ballycastleo!   

Neil would leave us here as he had pressing issues to sort, So Siobhan, Mark and the skipper lazed for a while before the skipper headed off to see an old friend in the town. Colm is one of the nicest people one could hope to meet, and his wife Deirdre is even nicer!  The skipper was sad to see Colm's health had flagged a little since they'd last met over a year ago, but at almost 90 his humour hadn't failed him and the afternoon was spent reminiscing old times, not least an infamous trip to France that the skipper, Colm and Austin, sadly now left this world, had taken over twenty years ago. With the blessing of the nicest pair in Ballycastle the skipper returned to Goose to find Ar Seachan was berthed alongside. This is Paddy Barry's boat. Paddy is a famous Irish yachtsman and mountaineer and an inspiration to us all.  We learned from him that this had been a less adventurous sojourn fo Ar Seachan being restricted to the Western Isles. Paddy however had indulged a little heavily in Islay’s famed peaty whiskey the previous night and our conversation was brief to allow him retreat to his bunk.  After a wander around town we headed for dinner at Morton's famous fish and chip shop...but with a difference! Who ever heard of a carryout serving delicious chowder served with fresh brown bread followed by fresh pan fried mackerel with a side salad! Scrumptious!

Further treats were in store.  We visited the Harbour Bar for a swift after dinner drink to find there was a session that evening.  Mark ran back to Goose for his fiddle and added greatly to the session on his return....introducing those wild and wondrous West Cork tunes to the Ballycastle repertoire.

Mark in the Harbour Bar

 But there's more. On visiting the facilities what should we behold but this fine contraption!

 While this is a pretty standard machine it's important to note the addition of a 'tell tale' blue light which made no difference at all!

Homeward Bound

We woke to a clear calm day, though there was some sea mist some distance off.  Heading for Glenarm through Rathlin Sound it was still and the legendary tidal races were only mildly evident.  As we rounded Tor Head the skipper raised the radar reflector, visibility was dropping fast! Within minutes it was down to 20 yards and worse, so the autohelm was engaged, navigation managed through it and the chartplotter, Mark perched on the bow with the fog horn and Siobhan and the skipper had their eyes peeled.

It was a long and stressful run but as fast as we can remember. At one point we were making just over 10 knots over ground and we reckon there must have been a tide of over 4 knots!  There was nothing to be seen until out of the mist came the spectral image of a yacht almost dead ahead and heading in our direction.  A minor adjustment to course saw us pass close to and exchange a silent wave. Then they were gone!

On occasions we heard fog horns of other vessels, seemingly of vastly different sizes.  We listened carefully to whether they were getting louder or more feint...thankfully all was well.  In no time we were in Belfast Lough, but all was not safe yet. Suddenly out of the mist loomed the pier that carries an oil pipe juts into the lough between Whitehead and Kilroot.  The skipper thought he'd left it to starboard but a swift adjustment of course saw us round it without difficulty.

As if by magic the fog lifted as we approached Carrickfergus.  Home at last....and there on the harbour was Brendan Mc Cabe welcoming us enthusiastically home.  When we tied up on the pontoon the corks were popped as we were joined by Brendan, Miriam and Joanne Mc M.

What a sense of  elation, relief, joy and completion.  None of this could have been possible without an amazing crew....Mark for the entire circumnavigation, Neil and Siobhan for much of it and Kevin and Diarmuid Og for short hops. Our shore based support, in particular Miriam, Maireita, Joanna and Stevie were incredible.....and last but not least we need to sing the praises of Goose who saw us through the rough and the smooth with the steadiness  we've come to expect!