Sailing to the French island in search of honey
Jason Lawrence faces challenging pilotage as he sails from Cowes to France’s most fearsome island in search of honey
With the light conditions it would be easy to lose concentration, but the signs were there: this was a dangerous place. Weed halfway up the lighthouses, folding seas around the headlands, 20-metre drop offs in the seabed. I wouldn’t want to be sailing to Ushant in any sort of wind or sea. Making our way up to the head of Baie De Lampaul we secured on a visitor buoy amongst five other boats. The water was crystal clear, cold at 14°, and with some long Atlantic swell I had a sense that I was on borrowed time. I would have to be quick in my search for Ushant honey.
I have sailed past this French island at the southwestern end of the English Channel many times, but had never been inclined to stop until a chance meeting with a couple in Brest. I had just arrived following 24 hours on the helm and a narrow escape from Biscay. The only other boat alongside was a small liveaboard, and with life seen, I had made my approach. On board was a fisherman and his partner who was a beekeeper from Ushant.
I filed this information away and then began musing on how there must be honey on Ushant. It seemed like a good mission and an excuse for a sail. Ushant as a destination now seemed appealing.
With a fair weather window apparent, I started preparing our Sparkman and Stephens 35, Slamat, tying up alongside town quay in Newport on the Isle of Wight for a bit of a clean. It’s a bore but I like a smooth hull to really get the most out of Slamat, to feel a smooth glide as the miles pass. Back on the mooring on the River Medina, we planned to leave at 1000, but by 0800 cold, thick fog had rolled in. Slipping lines, I hoped it would clear. My plan was to motor slowly along the edge of the channel, keeping
eyes and ears open. Vessels with AIS were easy to spot, but there were a surprising number of other ghosts, unseen other than a peeling bow wave.
RED MOON RISING
Clear of the island, the sun slowly burnt off the moisture to reveal flat, calm conditions and bright sunshine. The wind was patchy but forecast to increase, so I was not too concerned about using the engine to push round headlands. I am always very keen to be well past any headland in a foul current. It’s just too depressing using resources and making no progress.
With a red moon rising astern and purple haze over an oily sea, we pushed on for the night watch as we continued towards Falmouth. By midnight, we were one reef in, clear ahead, with a following sea. I catnapped, being careful not to hit the Eddystone Lighthouse off Plymouth. We were making strong progress and by 0700 were 20 miles off St Anthony Head. 1100 saw us tucked up in Falmouth.
Walking ashore, I was reminded of Cowes. There is something familiar about all our southern cruising ports. I’m not sure if it’s the branded shops, the food or the same folk walking the streets, but there seems to be a similarity, a constant thread, which is severed by a trip across the Channel.
Tomorrow would be a new day at sea with new ports and anchorages, but tonight fish and chips ashore before turning in.
It was an early start. We slipped lines at 0030 as I wanted to arrive in L’aber Wrac’h with plenty of daylight before dinner ashore. Having noted some fishing marks on arrival in Falmouth, we raised the sail early to avoid any calamity with ropes and engines. The wind was fresh and with Slamat a bit lively, I shortened sail to clear local obstructions and anchored shipping. At 0130 we were past the 50m contour, close hauled in 15 knots of breeze and making 175° on course for L’aber Wrac’h.
Dawn saw us in the west going shipping lanes and with plenty of fishing boats, I was glad for the AIS to make sense of it all. The wind backed and Slamat settled into a fast, comfortable motion. We were having a cracking sail, cutting through jade green water with bright sunshine and wind on the beam.
A ship’s lunch of bread, pâté and cheese was eaten at the start of the east going shipping lanes, but with the tide turning I expected conditions to change.
On cue, the wind increased, and with wind against tide the going was lumpy. I could see the French coast, a mass of chartered dangers, but with modern navigation it is easy to know with certainty your location and where to find the vital marks for a safe entry. With stronger currents on the French coast, it’s prudent to be up tide on arrival. Cracking off a little, I picked up the Libenter westerly cardinal mark, my guide to a safe entrance to L’aber Wrac’h.
With Slamat shipshape and tied up alongside, it was time to visit a local restaurant for dinner ashore.
We had covered 101 miles in 16 hours and had a wonderful
cruise. Tomorrow, we would be sailing the 20 miles south-west to Ushant.
After slipping lines at 0700, we made our way down the Grand Chenel under sail. It was clear, with 10 knots of breeze from the north-northeast and bright sunshine, and I set a course for 260°. Flying the cruising chute, I fielded a few phone calls as we slowly made our way down to Ushant.
Once Slamat was secure in Lampaul Bay I went ashore in search of the fabled Ushant honey. There were a few shops open, and I slowly wandered around, using my best schoolboy French on unsuspecting shopkeepers. After a 4km walk it dawned on me that it really was the end of the season in Ushant, and there was nothing to see other than a rather impressive lighthouse.
A house with a few cars parked outside was in fact a café, and making more enquiries it seemed there was one last place to try. Walking back into town, I stopped at the soon to shut tea room. The owner told me that the limited supply of honey allowed for local sale had sold out by May. Ushant honey was pretty special, with the majority of the small supply taken by the luxury goods conglomerate, LVMH and sent to Paris for use by selective chocolatiers and Guerlain cosmetics. Note to self, I thought. More research required! I would have to settle for some comparably boring Breton honey from the supermarket.
But, all was not lost. I had a reservation in a local restaurant and then another half day on the island to explore and prepare for the passage home.
I spent the next morning provisioning, talking with the locals and enjoying a picnic lunch, but the weather was turning, the southwesterly swell was increasing and already the anchorage had emptied. A clear sign that my time was up.
We left at 1730, motoring out of the bay, giving the northerly headland a very wide berth. The sea was falling over itself and very rough; a screaming tide with a light northeasterly wind. We had been lucky yesterday.
Clearing the island, the seas eased and with the wind filling astern, I set course towards the Channel Islands. This is a quiet stretch of water, with little reason for any shipping or coastal traffic. With Orion shining in clear skies it seemed a good place for a catnap or two before the wind backed and filled. I could expect brisk sailing in the morning.
The wind picked up in the early hours and progress was good, even with the tide against us. Being in the lee of the Cherbourg peninsula helped. Approaching the shipping lanes just north of Alderney, we came up to take the rough sea on the beam. It’s a favoured spot of mine; with
Once Slamat was secure in Lampaul Bay, I went ashore in search of the fabled Ushant honey
shipping and fishing boats compressed I can deal with the intensity of these hazards with ease.
By midday we were in the separation zone: time for lunch. Lavazza, fresh baguette, local butter and ham, all delicious. Choosing a suitable moment, we headed north again through the westbound shipping. We had the sea on the stern quarter and a favourable tide, making 7 knots in English waters and homeward bound.
By 1600, we were 45 miles off the fairway buoy and nearly home. The wind was pulsing, 25-plus knots to 10 and back again, but with plenty of time to make Hurst at midnight, I settled down with a cup of tea and watched the unfolding seascape with its rewards. Power sailing into Christchurch bay was wonderful, a real last of the season sail, and by 0300 we were safe on our mooring in the Medina.
We had sailed 510 miles in six days, walked 15km and failed to buy the elusive black bee honey of Ushant. Maybe next year.