GETTING TIMINGS RIGHT
Bristol Channel tidal tactics to reach Lundy
When we arrived at Lundy’s anchorage the sea was smooth and the evening sun warm as we settled in the cockpit for a rewarding sundowner. The island’s bay was well sheltered from the westerly breeze and the anchor had dug in well. We made our plans for a morning expedition ashore and relaxed to admire the view. All was well with the world, and we turned in contentedly anticipating a peaceful night’s sleep. How things can change with the turn of a tide! We were woken by the clashing of pans, cutlery, and plates as our Southerly 105 Aurial began rocking violently from side to side. Having failed to block out the cacophony of unwanted sound I accepted
that I’d have to take action. Emerging from the comfortable cocoon of my bunk I went on deck. The horizon was bouncing up and down and the stars pirouetted wildly around the anchor light as the masthead swooped from side to side. This would not do at all. The incoming tide sweeping past the south of the island was now bringing in a swell that swung Aurial away from lying head to wind; the waves, albeit small, were abeam with a cadence guaranteed to make her roll her guts out. I pondered our options. The motion was too great to ignore, and leaving Lundy in the middle of the night with the flood tide whipping up the island’s races unwise. I wished I’d equipped Aurial with a flopper stopper, and decided that pushing out the boom with a bucket of water or even the dinghy tied to the end might put unwanted strain on the rigging. After some thought, I adjusted the angle of the anchor cable with a spring brought back to a cockpit winch. Once all was rigged, the pull brought the stern more into line with the swell while the light wind came on to the beam. Aurial’s wild motion eased and the world became calm again. I retreated contentedly to the warmth and comfort of my bunk. For us, Lundy has been renamed ‘Lumpy’.
CALM SEAS, BIG TIDES
Our cruise started at Dale, tucked into the mouth of the Milford Haven waterway. While tidal timings do not limit access to the Haven, the passage eastwards past Linney Head and St Govan’s Head is subject to currents of up to 4 knots; trying to sail against such an adverse flow is somewhat frustrating. Wise sailors time their departure to coincide with the flood tide as it sweeps up the Bristol Channel to Gloucester and the River Severn. Indeed, the tidal range of the Bristol Channel is the second highest in the world; Dale’s peak range is over 7.5m while Avonmouth’s can exceed 14m. It is not only the tide that can hamper eastward progress; the Castlemartin Firing Range is generally active during the week, and the exclusion zone can extend 12 miles offshore, though the detour can be as little as three miles. When in use, Range Control boats are on patrol to busily shepherd intruders to safety.
For the Friday of our trip the update line (on 01646 662367) told us that the range was inactive. We enjoyed reaching in a gentle southwesterly from St Ann’s Head to Linney Head, where we were careful to give the inconveniently placed Crow Rock a wide berth; drying at 5.5m, this ship-killer is usefully marked by a beacon. The flood tide gave us a swift passage past the cliffs, and we managed to spot St
Govan’s lonely chapel in its hidden cleft in the rocks before rounding St Govan’s Head. We elected to stop for coffee and a walk at Broad Haven, a delightful anchorage and beach midway between St Govan’s Head and Stackpole Head with direct foot access to Bosherton’s Lily Ponds. The bay was well sheltered and the waters round Church Rock calm. After stretching our legs on the picturesque network of paths round the Lily Ponds we continued our passage towards Tenby.
A gentle broad reach took us onwards past Barafundle Bay, Freshwater East, and Manorbier (its firing range also confirmed inactive) before we lined up for Caldey Sound. The tide can flow through the gap between Caldey and the mainland at a bouncy 2.5 knots; our transit was untroubled with a following wind and slack water. Rather than entangling ourselves with the fleshpots of Tenby we turned to starboard after the Eel Spit green buoy to anchor in Priory Bay on Caldey Island’s north shore. The shelter was excellent and the holding secure, and a pleasant evening passed before the sun dipped down over the island.
The morning dawned fair again, though the wind had veered slightly to the west. After weighing anchor, we left the North Highcliff North Cardinal to starboard, before turning southeast to clear Woolhouse Rock’s South Cardinal on a heading of 120ºt for the 14-mile journey towards The Gower’s Worms Head. While the Force 3-4 westerly breeze wafted us along at a reasonable 4-5 knots, the temptation to hoist our rarely used tri-radial spinnaker was too much. Once excavated from its locker, rigged, and hoisted inside its snuffer it was easy to break out and fill; our speed rose to 5-7 knots and Aurial’s wake sang. We relished the spinnaker’s power. It is easy, though, to underestimate gradual increases in wind strength whilst running. I was on the helm and realised that things were getting exciting. The anemometer was faulty, but the hand-held one suggested the true wind had risen to Force 5 and the skies had turned grey. It was time to drop the spinnaker, and all went well until the snuffer line became caught up on the genoa
Our speed rose to 5-7 knots and Aurial’s wake sang
halyard shackle. After bundling the spinnaker up and securing it on deck, our sailing resumed its peace under a well-prevented mainsail. We crossed the Helwick Swatch bank between the Helwick West and East Cardinals, continued past Port Eynon, and rounded Oxwich Point for an overnight stop.
Oxwich Bay is a broad sweep of sand abutting up to the rocky promontory of Oxwich Point on its western end. Good holding on sand can be found tucked in between the moorings and the sheltering shore, but don’t be tempted to borrow a fisherman’s mooring – apart from being in regular use some of them are lobster keeps. Snuggled comfortably into the corner of the beach is the Oxwich Bay Hotel; after a pleasant ramble through the nature reserve behind the dunes a refreshing beer was the order of the day while the evening sun dipped behind the trees.
SAILING PERFECTION
The wind had backed to the southwest for our crossing of the Bristol Channel to Ilfracombe.
Our course was due south, and we enjoyed a cracking 6-knot close reach that ate up the 20-mile passage in three hours; the excuse of ensuring that there was enough water in the harbour allowed us a lazy breakfast before we set off.
This crossing was sailing at its best; a gentle heel, the happy gurgle of the wake, and the pleasing sight of all three sails drawing well. The time passed swiftly, and before we knew it the entrance to the pretty Devon harbour of Ilfracombe was before us. After calling the harbourmaster we picked up one of the fore-and-aft drying moorings near the MS Oldenburg, the Landmark Trust ship that ferries passengers to Lundy. We enjoyed a wander round the town and replenished our stocks before sending friend and crew Paul up the mast to renew the anemometer mast head unit; our activities drew a group of bored onlookers who shouted helpful advice which we sensibly ignored. With the job done and the mast ladder packed away, the wind speed was now properly displayed; we rewarded Paul with a sumptuous meal ashore.
In the morning the wind instrument became an essential tool; after clearing the harbour Lundy lay directly to windward. Fortuitously, the tidal flow out of the Bristol Channel was with us – it would have been a long, hard sail if we had needed to contest both the wind and the tide. Aurial is a Southerly 105 ketch, and the joke runs that she is so numbered because her tacking angle is 105º. In fact, she does better than that but, being an elderly lady, not by much. Nevertheless, we made steady progress with long tacks while Lundy drew ever closer.
This 20-mile passage took much longer than the crossing to Ilfracombe, but was enjoyable in a different way; getting the best out of your boat is always fun and she sailed well. We were content when we sailed into Lundy’s main anchorage and dropped the hook on the shingle seabed under the cliffs.
After our disturbed night’s sleep, we spent most of the day wandering the length of this wonderful island. The views and wildlife are unsurpassed, and there is always the option of a refreshing libation in the Marisco Tavern before returning to the boat. We cut short our stay as none of us fancied another night of
This crossing was sailing at its best; a gentle heel, the happy gurgle of the wake, and the pleasing sight of all three sails drawing well
rock and roll, and left late afternoon for the 35-mile reach back to the entrance to Milford Haven. A midnight arrival was inevitable, but we love night sailing and are accustomed to entering our home harbour in the dark. After bouncing through the overfalls north of Lundy we watched its lighthouse vanish. I prepared a list of lights we would encounter, and we ticked them off until we rounded the corner into Dale and dropped anchor by moonlight.
After a rewarding tipple we turned into our bunks – it had been a truly wonderful cruise.