Back across the Channel

In order to leave France, we had to officially sign out of the country. Since Brexit this has got quite complicated and the rules seem to change every year.

There are a series of online forms that must be filled out before departure of the EU and arrival in the UK.

We had understood that as well as signing in online, you had to go into an official port of entry to get each crew member stamped in. You then had to do the same when leaving. There was apparently an exception to this rule for people attending the festival.

The customs office had been closed during Brest festival and so we hadn’t been able to get our passports stamped. This then left us unsure of the correct procedure on departure. We had planned to sail from Camaret to Brest to sign out in person, so lifted anchor at the crack of dawn and set sail. After long VHF discussions, however, it was decided that since we had only signed in online, then we ought to only sign out online and didn’t need to present ourselves at Brest.

The forecast for that evening was west going northerly, blowing 15-20kts until the next afternoon when it was supposed to die off for the week. Nora and I made the decision to cross back to the UK, and since Jake didn’t have a VHF I sailed over to tell him.

He had been nervous to cross on his own as he was still getting to grips with his wind vane and had planned to find crew before we left France. He wasn’t particularly delighted but we were running out of money and he didn’t want to be stuck in France for another week, so agreed it was the better option.

We hung around the coast for a bit while me and mum filled in all the forms, and Jake and dad tried their best to tidy up and make their boats ready. We had planned to eat once we got into Brest so everyone was hungry and not in the best of spirits. Dad lent Jake a handheld VHF and we headed out of the bay.

We caught the last of the tide through the channel du four and it was rather uneventful until Jake started his engine and clouds of black smoke rose out Radiance’s cabin. The engine cut out and Jake disappeared below. Apparently the belt had slipped off for a second, making the engine overheat and melting off the muffler box. The fan belt had shredded itself and so he couldn’t use the engine.

We had just signed out of France so didn’t want to turn back around. The wind picked up after a while and the boats started sailing properly as we lost sight of land. Falanda was steering herself and I was enjoying splicing up any rope in my view. All three boats sailed at around 6kts, twisting around each other as the sun got lower and it was lovely.

As the sun set the wind picked up and we discussed reefing over the VHF. We all knew that the wind was due to increase, and the boats were already verging on being overpowered. It was about to get dark and we would soon be in the shipping lanes however Jake and my dad managed to talked each other out of reefing despite mine and my mum's best efforts.

Soon it was pitch black and we were surrounded by ships, pulling against the tiller wishing we were reefed down. We were going over 8kts, hand steering as no one’s selfsteering gear could cope with the conditions. Fog came in and Jake’s VHF began to die. I somehow lost sight of Radiance and Nora’s lights which were replaced with the lights of big ships and the bright fishing boat lights. There was a search light somewhere ahead that kept cutting in and out and also a faint orange glow in the distance.

Nora was adamant that they could see me, (despite my tricolour having broken) and insisted that I should head towards the flashing search light. I altered my original course by 20 degrees which felt completely wrong. 3/4 of an hour later when the flashing light turned out to be a small sailing boat, I was even further behind them and slightly delirious.

There had been phosphorescence in the bow wave for a while, but at this point I saw a huge jet of it shoot underneath the boat. It was bigger than a dolphin or a porpoise and wasn’t part of pod as they usually are and I was convinced it was an orca. It stayed with me, sinking underneath the stern and surfacing occasionally on the quarter. I radiod Nora and Radiance convinced that it was about to sink the boat. I got no reply, and was then left terrified thinking that they were now out of signal. I continued watching the stream of green sink beneath the rudder.

It turns out that Nora and Radiance had been sailing towards the orange glow, realised it was a massive ship, called them up and learnt that it was drifting and unable to manuvure. They bared away at which point Nora’s gaff jaws broke leaving them sailing towards it trying to get the main down with ropes whipping around everywhere. This was when I called convinced that I was being chased by an orca, they couldn’t reply and Jake’s VHF had died.

While Nora fought with the main sail, Radiance waited nearby, giving me and Falanda a chance to catch up. By then I had realised that the orca was infact a mermaid, and had come to peace with it. Before long, we were all alongside again, and back underway. We were just over 10nm from the Lizard when the wind started to drop and veer more northerly and we had to bear away. We were only 17nm away from Falmouth.

At 6am we were pointing towards Plymouth and at 7 we pointing more towards Start Point. Falanda and radiance were sailing at about 1.5kts and Nora was motoring as they couldn’t use the main.

We were drifting further and further away from Falmouth, everyone was cold and tired so at around 8am Nora threw Radiance a line and began towing her slowly towards Falmouth.

Radiance weighs around 13 tonnes and being gaff, naturally can’t point as high as Falanda. With 2 engineless boats and one that couldn’t sail, it seemed pointless drifting in the wrong direction when we knew that the wind wouldn’t return, hence Nora’s decision.

I watched Nora and Radiance disappear and then spent 5 hours tacking in the bay. Without having to wait for Radiance, we picked up a bit of speed, and in the end had a fairly pleasant sail. A pod of dolphins stayed at the bows for a while, and I soon warmed up as the sun came out.

Once Radiance had dropped her anchor, Nora kindly turned back around and after a while trying to find us, towed me and Falanda into the channel as well.

Although everyone was fine, the whole thing was completely over complicated. Sailing solo on 2 engineless boats seemed slightly pointless and with bigger sailing plans for next summer coming up I decided to sell Falanda.

I put Falanda on the market, and after 2 weeks hanging out locally on her, sailed from Penryn Quay one last time down the river with her new owner.

The rain pelted down on us as we sailed slowly down to Falmouth, we were drenched and it felt quite fitting - the joys of boating!

It’s amazing how attached you can get to a boat, and I was more upset that I’d imagined I’d be as we left her. She was absolutely perfect for me when I had her, but I am also pleased to have passed her on to someone who will care for her and use her.

Best wishes to her and her new owner for the future.