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The Solent - 1996

1. Through the Needles

I always get a dry mouth when I'm leaving harbour for a long trip. Especially when it's the first long crossing for a little while, especially if it happens to be 06:20 in the morning and especially if the weather could be a challenge...

Click here to see chartlets of the journeys mentioned.

Leaving La Collette Marina, Jersey, on Saturday May 25 was no exception. We had been planning to set off for the Isle of Wight since the previous Thursday. Successive lows had been scouring their way across the UK ever since, with scarcely a gap in the rain and force 6-8 winds. The 05:55 BBC shipping forecast this morning gave

There was a good 3-4 ft chop in the small roads outside the harbour.

"Hello, sir!"

"Hello, Mr Jones!!"

We were hailed by a couple of lads from school, fishing off the pierheads, as we turned head to wind and hauled up the main. We left the engine on and motorsailed to the West along the South coast of the island.

As we rounded the Corbiere lighthouse on the South-West point of Jersey, we unfurled the 130% genoa, hoisted the staysail and killed the diesel. Oh, the blessed peace when that thing goes quiet. The local 07:45 forecast gave The Alderney race was like lamb!  It's good when things work out well.

The forecasts could not agree about the detail but they seemed to concur that nothing too terrible was in store. Under all sail we were now powering forth at 6-7 knots. The kettle was on and plain, buttered toast was going to be challenge enough for my slightly queasy breakfast. I envy Nicky's ability to eat in any sea state!

As we crossed the wide, sand-duned expanse of St Ouen's Bay on Jersey's West coast I re-checked our speed/distance/time calculations for the Alderney Race. The race is a three-mile cut between the Channel Island of Alderney and the French coast to the north of us. Tides can reach 8 - 10 knots in there and when they do, the sea boils and can smash a small boat senseless. It is essential to arrive close to slack water, preferably with the stream just turning in your favour rather than against you. We seemed to be in good time, all was well.

At 10:00 we left Jersey's North coast behind and set course for the race. By lunchtime we were in it and committed. It was as quiet as a lamb! The wind was 16 - 20 knots behind our port beam, we were making 8 - 9 knots through the water but there was hardly any chop and were neither rolling nor pitching. We celebrated with a cup of tea and put some pasta on for lunch.

Log

Our 14:25 log entry records

Set course 023 degrees magnetic for Needles; Barometer 1009mb; Wind 16 Knots apparent, 20 Knots true; Boat speed 8 Knots.

Nicky enjoys the Alderney Race We settled down to watch out for shipping and occasionally tweak the sail-trim. She was sailing like a thorough-bred and it was going to be a good crossing.

Long after dark our first landfall was St Catherine's Point lighthouse on the South coast of the Isle of Wight. It was off to Starboard as expected, as we were on course for the Needles Channel past Wight's West-most tip. What we did not expect was for the telephone to ring! We had both forgotten it. It had been switched on and plugged into ship's power while we waited on board in Jersey, watching for a weather-window. A mobile 'phone on board has proved very useful at times. But, we checked our watches, it was half-past midnight! We were in the middle of no-where!

It was my Dad. He was out on the town with a crowd of his friends and had been telling them about us, then decided to call us on one of their mobiles! We were able to relay the latest news from the inky-black English Channel straight into their warm and pretty merry restaurant. Surrealism had nothing on this!

Ink

And, my goodness me, it was inky out here. There was no moon but a good few billion stars. The Needles themselves are a series of tall, stark, chalky pillars of rock at the tip of the island. A mere few hundred meters beyond them lurks a shifting shingle bank, so shallow that it cannot be crossed and beset with cross-currents strong enough to render you powerless.

The Leading lights ahead after the Needles rocksWe found the safe-water buoy, acquainted ourselves with the Needles Lighthouse and searched for the leading lights. With everything as well lined-up as we could make it we committed ourselves to the channel. Radio 4 had linked up with BBC World Service for the night, but suddenly our friendly companion seemed just so much babble. We switched off the radio. Full concentration was given to the buoys and their flashes, red and green, to port and starboard, the white leading lights ahead so difficult to distinguish, the huge red eye of the lighthouse above, to starboard.

At only one moment did I allow myself the luxury of looking behind. The nearness, the blackness and the height of the Needles towers silhouetted in the loom of the lighthouse almost made me wish I had not!

All our preparations, calculations, observations and care had paid off. We were through the channel and the broad, calm waters of the Solent, that strip of shelter between the Isle of Wight and England's South coast, opened up.

This salty yarn continues. Please click here for the next installment