The Shell Channel Pilot –by Tom Cunliffe (Imray) – Principal Headlands….St Alban’s Head: ‘There is a considerable tidal race….It extends 3 miles seaward…there is a passage of nearly half a mile between St Alban’s Head and the race…but it varies…and is not entirely immune from tidal disturbance…’

No kidding.

Sunday 9 April. 5:00 alarm for an 8:00 launch at Baiter Park in Poole, destination Weymouth 25 miles away round four principal headlands as listed in the Channel Pilot.

This was to be the first outing of 2006 for Joshua Slocum W1038, though without Niamh my trusty nano-crew. The plan was too ambitious for the responsibility of a small person as well as navigating and handling the boat, so this time I joined forces with John Miller who last year accompanied us in his Wanderer ‘towards Christchurch’ from Studland. He left Wanderlust at home this time, sharing Joshua’s helm over the 6 hour passage.

In preparation I had finished varnishing the foils, tried out the new (red) mainsail and masthead buoyancy on the drive and fitted new cheek block and cam cleats for the jib sheets – the originals being worn which meant they let go randomly when the wind got up.

Leaving the house in the frosty dark I reached Baiter shortly before John, and we carefully rigged and provisioned for the trip ahead, not wanting to forget anything important and making sure the ‘getting the trailer to Weymouth plan’ was properly put into action – John’s wife kindly collected the trailer from Baiter later and met us in Weymouth that afternoon, to take us and the boat back to our start point.

As the sun rose over Sandbanks the weather was better than forecast, glorious sun and once the frost burnt off a reasonably comfy temperature. Oyster catchers peeped furiously at us disturbing their morning browsing the tideline and seagulls again proudly demonstrated their trick of carrying seashells up about 20’ above the concrete slip to drop them and break open the shells – amazing to watch and something I haven’t witnessed anywhere else.

Togged in drysuit, fleece hat, gloves and scarf we launched into the sparkling and almost empty Poole harbour, getting away by just after 8:00. Annoyingly at this point I noted that in my winter lay off I had forgotten how to rig the headsail furler and had to take the tension off the rig while disconnecting and properly rigging the gear to allow the genoa to set. All being in place and setting correctly we reached the main ship channel north of Brownsea Island and broke out the spinnaker for a glorious reach / run on the same tack all the way to Old Harry rocks at the southern limit of Studland Bay.

The notorious Sandbanks chain ferry across the harbour mouth kindly waited until we had passed ahead of him, waving cheerily at us from his perch – or was he gesticulating at us to hurry up?

The training wall outside the harbour mouth to the west is well marked with stakes and this meant we could drop out of the buoyed channel to give the Ro Ro ferry a wide berth as it overtook us on its way to Cherbourg.

With our spinnaker drawing well and the wind from our beam or on the quarter Old Harry was reached some 30 minutes ahead of schedule, however rounding the headland and shaping our course for the red can marking the southern limit of the Peveril Ledges off Swanage we entered an area of fluky winds, influenced I suppose by the odd effects of the wind round the headland between Old Harry and his tiny spouse. The spinnaker backed, flapped and wouldn’t set comfortably any more, we slowed to a crawl in the gentle tidal disturbance created by the almost slack water.

The spinnaker came down and was stowed with relatively little drama, just a tangle in the halyard, which meant it almost got away from us when we thought it was safely tamed.

With genoa set, we shaped our course for Peveril point and did the best we could to put on a good show for John’s family gathered at the coastguard hut above the lifeboat station, passing them at around 9:15. Their photographs show us as a dot on the wide blue sea, but the coastguard kindly invited them in to watch us pass, through their massive binoculars.

Passing inside the Peveril Ledge red can as the water was not disturbed in the benign conditions at high water, we then passed Durlston Head and Anvil Point in quick succession, weaving between the touristy mackerel boats at anchor. The fluky wind kept us moving OK so long as we kept our offing from the steep cliffs and no significant tidal races troubled us as we approached the last significant barrier before the 15 mile long open water stretch across the bay to Weymouth.

St Alban’s Head.

Advice is to stick close inshore or go out 3+ miles to clear the race. With the tide now running strongly to the west and as we had waited for a more favourable Northerly wind to reduce the wind over tide effect witnessed yesterday by John on this very stretch from the cliff path, we aimed to pass close under the ‘hanging cliff’ rather than 3 miles out into the channel. On approach we began to see some white water quite close to the head and nipped in even tighter. It didn’t help, nor did the wind, which dropped completely away as we closed with the cliff.

The alleged inshore passage seemed to have taken the day off, as the tidal slop ran right up tight to the cliff. Making a few knots through the water we gritted our teeth and entered the broken waves. The first few towers and holes passed harmlessly under us, and a patch of calmer water raised hopes that we could sneak around without drama.

Wrong. A wave rose before us, much like those already passed happily enough, however this one had a friend right behind it. We climbed the first comfortably and then dropped straight into the near vertical face of the following sea. The impact caused the mast to pump quite alarmingly, shook the weak breeze out of the sails and stopped us dead.

John, sitting on the thwart, took the brunt of it as the cold green water punched across the foredeck, wrapping his arm through the kicker to stop himself getting knocked back onto my lap. He looked somewhat surprised by the smack in the face he received but grinned over his shoulder after emerging from the sea that entered Joshua so rudely and was now slopping round our ankles.

We were immediately filled above the floorboards and found that we were travelling backwards in confused seas without the wind to get us moving again. Bailers open and much ineffective tiller waggling used up the anxious moments before Joshua found his feet again and we were able to shape a course to keep the worst lumps on the nose. No more monsters came aboard, but the wet stuff coming over the front and up through the centreboard box easily kept pace with efforts at pumping and the self bailers.

It is at times like this that it is easy to see how things can rapidly get out of control and lead sailors into more serious difficulties. With the boat full of water we were moving even slower than before and couldn’t manoeuvre easily. The boat also sat lower in the water meaning more water kept coming aboard and the bailers were ineffective. I couldn’t leave the tiller to start the engine and regain some way as I was concentrating on steering through the mess.

John and I had set ourselves a weather limit of F4 or below for this trip, without wind over tide and avoiding spring tides. As it was we passed through the race in a near calm, using the best route suggested in pilotage books and still found it a difficult situation. 14’ boats can feel very small sometimes.

In the future I will have the engine idling through identified races to ensure we always carry some way, and try to time passages when slack water should smooth the area – not always easy with so many headlands to pass on a route like this though.

Once round St Alban’s and clear of the last bumps we pumped the boat out to below floorboard level, set a course for far off Weymouth still below the horizon to the right of Portland Bill and enjoyed the picturesque coastline unravelling to our right – Chapman’s Pool, Walbarrow Bay, Lulworth and Durdle Door passed in succession as we pinched across the bay in the comfortable F3 breeze from the North west.

Occasionally becalmed we still kept ahead of schedule and realised we could make the 14:00 bridge into Weymouth marina rather than the 16:00 entry planned in the passage notes. A call on the mobile to John’s wife suggested the change of plan.

I was impressed by the two Garmin GPS sets we had aboard – both of which carried on ticking off the miles to Weymouth, despite 20 minutes or so of floating around the bottom of the boat on their tethers. The aqua pack containing the mobile phones was rather less effective, holding a good ½” of salt water to bath the two phones’ sensitive circuits by the time John lifted them from the flooded floor. Amazingly both still worked, though for how long I’m not sure, as mine has already gone green and furry about the contacts on the base…ho hum.

The benefit of a sizeable crew were very clear to me on this cruise, as the fitful wind came and went. With Niamh as crew I always reef, her 3 stone not having a noticeable effect on the balance of the boat. With a more robust Mr Miller aboard we held full sail all day and were able to enjoy some powerful reaching in the more lively gusts, without my ever having to hang out over the side like a man possessed, to the relief of my stomach and thigh muscles.

As we hauled into sight of Weymouth seafront we picked our way through a fleet of 420’s roaring around the bay at speed and followed a large yacht between the pierheads into the Weymouth harbour channel. Furling the genoa and dropping the main we fired up the outboard for the first and last time that day to rattle up the channel in perfect time for the bridge to lift ahead of us and allow us round the corner to the public slipway beside the marina.

John’s wife Jackie was already there at the slipway with the trailer, a little anxious at the mobile phone silence since our call at around 12:30 (1st sea water gremlins?) and we were able to recover Joshua to the trolley and de-rig comfortably in the clear space at the head of the slip.

40 minutes in the car had us back at Baiter in Poole where we had started 8 hours before.

An ambitious start to the season, a fantastic sail, which has re-confirmed my respect for tidal races even in the most benign conditions such as we found at St Alban’s Head, I will in future try to remember the authors notes were probably compiled from the comfy cockpit of a 40’ yacht rather than a 14’ openboat.

Will I sail the boat to the Nationals in Weymouth this summer? ….probably not, but at least I know I could, if I wanted to…..I think I'll drive down there like everyone else - much drier.

Tim Robertson W1038 April 2006