Johno Stokes, who raced with me last year on the Solent was able to get away for a weekend starting Friday 9th. September. I was determined to reach Weymouth, and planned for heavy weather by trying out a groundsheet as a spray cover, replacing suspect gear such as bottlescrews, cutting a chunk out of the boom to make reefing easier, bolting on stainless steel fittings for the new rudder and making buoyancy bag lashings stronger. We decided to sail for Weymouth from Keyhaven - a passage of more than forty miles, but we would be able to avoid the worst of the Anvil Point race. More food and cooking gear was carried and the stowage layout altered slightly.

We launched Calypso at Keyhaven on Thursday afternoon, and I obtained permission to sleep on tile Yacht Club's verandah. Later Sinbad said I could unstow the biscuits and sleep down below i.e. sleep on the seat cushions inside the clubhouse. I rang Johno to check that all was well, in theory he was to wake up at the crack of dawn and drive 30 miles from Droxford to Keyhaven so that we could catch the tide in the Needles Channel before 07:30. It was important not to miss the tide as in fair weather it would mean sailing against the east going stream where it was strongest i.e. along Seacombe Cliffs; in heavy weather, it would mean going through the North Channel rather than the Needles and sailing outside the St. Alban's race rather than through the inshore passage.

I slept through my alarm clock, but Sinbad's hounds kindly broke into the clubhouse to wake me up. Johno overslept as well, as when I rang at 7 a.m. he was still in bed. However he arrived at 08:50 and we were off one and a half hours late at 9 a.m. The wind was ENE force 2/3 giving us a pleasant goose-winged run across Poole Bay. However, visibility was rather poor, and it was something of a relief when Durleston Head turned up where it should be. Johno came on watch at 13:00 hours, so I took the opportunity of blowing up the lilo and dozing. There was quite a popple off Anvil Point even in these conditions; a neap tide flooding against a force 2/3 wind. We were making very slow progress against the tide, and I was apprehensive about St. Alban's Head which we would have to take on the flood stream. However we stayed close inshore and prepared for the worst, but it was something of a disappointment as although there were tidal disturbances, they were very minor.

We passed the Head at 15:45 and waved to the coastguard who had stepped out of his cliff top hut to see us. Ahead, a whole new series of headlands stretched out into the haze, and we had to continue sailing on a compass course. The following wind continued until dusk, when it became light and variable. I decided to cook a meal, but was annoyed to find a bit of the gas cooker missing, so had to resort to using our small solid fuel emergency cooker which turned out to be very satisfactory. During my watch from 19:05 to 21:00 the wind fell calm, and I occupied myself by taking bearings on the three visible lights: Portland Bill, the Shambles and one of the Portland Harbour lights eight miles ahead. I gratefully turned in at 21:00 and left Johno with the problem of finding the sou'westerly wind that had been forecast all day. I woke up to find Calypso close hauled a couple of miles off Weymouth. Soon we were both sitting out and arrived in Weymouth at midnight. The night was spent in a concrete shelter near the beach.

06:50: Reveille again by a dog. A policeman with an alsation walked in and presumably told his hound to turf us out. This was too early for my liking but too late for the 06:40 forecast. However, we had a good breakfast and after a morning's shopping in Melcombe Regis, set off at 11:10. The weather was perfect, with a following force 3 breeze and sunshine. We had a very pleasant run along the coast a couple of miles offshore, and at 12:40 we tacked on to port gybe and steered for the cliffs with the intention of finding Lulworth Cove. It was impossible to see the entrance until half a mile away and John was to be congratulated on the navigation. The Cove was really beautiful. Calypso was beached on a boat roller, and we had our lunch lying on the shingle in the sun.

An hour later we were off again, and had our only breakage of the cruise - Part II - while in the entrance to Allworth Cove. John took her out and as he pulled the rudder down, the elastic clip on the downhaul parted. Fortunately we had a spare clip handy and were able to rig it on before anything else was damaged. The wind had risen a little and we arrived at St. Alban's Head half an hour too early, so the sea on the inshore passage was rather confused; Calypso would pick up a wave and plane on it until she met a wave coning in the opposite direction which would stop her in a smother of foam. A lifeboat paused inshore of us traveling west and throwing up clouds of spray, the crew traditionally wearing oilskins and sou'westers and having rather a rough and wet ride. Johno had been convinced they had come out to escort us through the overfalls and was very disappointed when they continued westwards.

Shortly afterwards a plane circled over us streaming a red conical drogue. I took this to mean a gale warning, so sailed further inshore to look at the flagstaff at the Anvil Point lighthouse. There was no gale warning cone up but there was an impressive cloudbank behind us, and the wind was rising slowly. There are some measured mile marks on Seacombe Cliffs and we clocked ourselves at eight knots - admittedly with a one knot current under us. A fast, goose-winged plane across Poole Bay for a couple of hours brought us to the Needles at slack water as planned, and we were in the Solent by dusk. When the tide turned, we put the spinnaker up to get a little more speed. There were one or two worrying moments as there was a lot of shipping about, and we had no navigation lights. However, Johno rigged a white miniflare at push-button readiness and flashed a torch whenever necessary.

There was a fresh breeze as far as Calshot Spit, but the wind dropped after that, and we ghosted into Hamble at 11 p.m., a pleasant end to a 65 mile passage and to the season's sailing.