Two years ago we tried to go to France but a Force 6 headwind had proved too discouraging. We settled for a short training trip about 13 miles South of Chichester Bar and back in a short sea that showed white in all directions. An occasional wave peak got up to an estimated 12 feet, fortunately never too close. An experiment with a cruising trapeze showed that some extra drive could be obtained, but with a high performance boat like a Wayfarer there did not seem much point when cruising. Beating in such a wind and sea did not present any problems, but on the run home some heavy handling of the tiller was required to keep the boat on course, This may have been partly due to our current weakness of carrying too much sail. Crossing the Bar our rudder scratched the bottom while still a long way out from the entrance - we must have been at the bottom of the spring tides.

To give ourselves a better chance to get to France we decided to change our objective from Cherbourg to Fecamp. This would give us a reach in both directions with the most probable wind South-westerly, Leaving Chichester entrance 2 hours before high water, and a hoped for 16 hour crossing, the tide effects should just about cancel. The weather forecast just before leaving was 3 - 5 S.W. with the outlook of slightly weaker winds from the same quarter. The only blemish was the possibility of local fog. The straight course is 144° , so to allow for leeway and to give us a preferred error of going slightly up wind, we set a course of 155° - 160° which is as near as we can expect to steer.

So we cast off at 3.00 p.m.. on Thursday, 27th July,, having cleared Customs and eaten a hearty meal. An hour later we were outside the Chichester Bar and were on course, sky was thinly overcast but quit bright, the sea was moderate and, with the wind just about Force 5, we had a reef in the main to make sailing easy. Soon we approached the first shipping lane off Selsey Bill the tide carrying us East. Our first encounter with a ship called the "Metropole" which appeared to be on a collision course with us, but with neither of us changing direction we slipped past less than 50 yards astern. This was to be our closest approach to a ship and the only one whose name we were able to read. A short time later we saw the "Queen Elizabeth" come out and head South.

Unfortunately during those early hours there was enough wind and sea to have got me quite wet - the sailing suit I was wearing was not really man enough for the job in hand. At six o'clock we listened to the shipping forecast which indicated no change, so we had to make the final decision whether to go on or turn back. We had no real doubts; we knew the boat was sound, we had a considerable amount of experience in sailing her together, although we had never before made a night passage - we sailed on. An hour or two later I might have had second thoughts as my stomach discarded some unwanted occupant. Tony had taken some dramamine, but I had never previously felt the need. The chilling effect of the wind on my wet clothes contributed to this unwelcome episode. I took the helm, when recovered, and the activity removed the feeling of nausea and I was soon warm again.

During the evening two ships were seen to alter course to go astern of us long before we considered taking any avoiding action. Their manoeuvre was appreciated and at no time did we feel there was any danger in crossing the shipping lanes. As darkness fell we took down the jib to sail still more comfortably - the sea was still tossing us about a bit but the wind was slightly easier. It had been easy to hold our course in daylight, but in the dark the compass mounted at the foot of the mast was almost invisible. Sailing by the wind was reasonably easy with an occasional compass check. When other ships' lights appeared they were a considerable help to the helmsman - but!

During the night the wind was down to Force 4, still from the S.W. and we were sailing very comfortably. It never got really dark, but the phosphorescent plankton showed up brilliantly in our bow wave and wake. The moon must have been somewhere behind the clouds which prevented our seeing any stars, A large liner passed about a mile away heading North and illuminating the sea which was now much more calm - Tony, who used be in the Merchant Navy, thought it might have been the "France". One useful light appeared ahead and stayed dead on our course for several miles. As we got close this boat suddenly flashed a light on a huge sail - it was either a cat or a trimaran making rather slow progress. Their light flashed over to pick up our sails and at once we found we were sailing in the wrong direction. As we approached the slowly moving light we had swung slowly round to follow it. The lesson was duly learned not to trust such a light to steer by when you get too close.

Back on course with full sails we soon picked up the Cap d'Antifer light which has a range of 27 miles. It was just off our starboard bow - we were bang on course - congratulations! Still the wind weakened and with daylight a mist appeared ahead and we had no sign of the Fecamp lights. It was an hour or two later that the chalk cliffs appeared and we realized how difficult it could be to locate Fecamp. A check with the Pilot Pal on d'Antifer showed we were close to our destination and soon after 8.00 a.m. we passed a Fecamp fishing boat where we got a final check on our course. The last two hours in the light wind was with the tide against us and it was with a bit of punting that we finally entered the harbour, having taken just 19 hours to make the crossing.

We were cold, wet, hungry and thirsty but all of these were soon remedied when we were invited aboard a Belgian cruiser named "Seehond". The kind reception by the crew included hot food and drink, but best of all a padded seat!

Our mutual conclusion at the end of our trip was that this sort of long sail was not nearly as enjoyable as travelling along the coast or exploring estuaries. Much of the journey had been boring, we had welcomed the sight of ships and crossing the shipping lanes had proved the most interesting time, although we appreciated that our presence was probably not welcome to those ships that had found it necessary to change course.

Twenty-seven hours after landing we cast off again, having fed and slept well. The wind was still light and the high walls of the entrance to the harbour again made things difficult. The reciprocal bearing of 324° was established and with a similar allowance for leeway we set a course of 310°. We were making barely 3 knots and the coast took a long time to disappear. Barely one hour out from the French coast we switched on the weather forecast. Steadily the reader worked round the coast promising force 3 - 4 winds until he came to Wight. The figures here were 3 - 5 increasing to 6 with the wind backing to S.W. This was greeted with silence - we both mentally rejected the idea of going back, we were both due back at work within two days and the expense and inconvenience of any alternative led to its rejection. I know I tended to recall all the reports I had heard of wrong forecasts and with the force 3 we were experiencing and the easier forecasts for neighbouring areas I felt sure things would not be too bad.

In anticipation of what might be to com we lay down to sleep while off watch, we ate well and generally made sure everything was well stowed. With the forecast of the wind backing we tended to sail towards the wind shift - quite forgetting that this should be done only if beating - this was to be regretted later. For hours we sailed in the same light wind and deserted sea - boring was a fair description. Darkness and ships arrived together and we were again navigating by the lights of other ships. But always keeping a check on the compass. Almost imperceptibly the wind and sea rose and we were roaring along with the wind whistling in the rigging. Not wanting to risk getting the radio wet we did not listen to the late forecast nor did we check our position - both very serious omissions in the circumstances. We were on a fairly broad reach with sea coming in the sane direction as the wind and soon we had the waves hitting our back. Most of the water was blown straight over the boat and what did come in was adequately dealt with by the self-bailers. The sailing was really enjoyable now and I was hoping it would continue until daylight.

At daylight we saw just how big the sea had become; the waves were about 15 yards apart and 6 to 10 feet high. Fortunately few of them were breaking and the boat was bobbing over them quite comfortably. Although we had only a well reefed main there was plenty of drive to allow us to luff up into the worst of the waves. Visibility was less than half a mile. Only rarely did our bow show any sign of digging into a wave, but never was there any fear of its not rising safely. More often we sailed over a hole and fell with a great crash.

About 7.00 a.m.. we decided that we would continue as we were for another hour and if we had not sighted land or found any check on our position we would heave to and get out the radio. During that hour we hoped to sight the Nab Tower or Selsey Bill or the Ower Light Vessel, but all I saw were what appeared to be large rocks in the distance but which always collapsed as the great waves changed shape. This was quite different to the short sea of two years ago - presumably we were now in deeper water.

At eight o'clock we pointed into the wind, took in the sail and put out a sea anchor, got out the Pilot Pal and at once picked up St. Catherine's loud and clear on bearing of 310°, We were obviously too far west, but how far? Under jib only we ran North and within 2 or 3 minutes found ourselves on a lea shore with large breakers and a great cliff appeared beyond. We had been here before - it was the south coast of the Isle of Wight - not only that, but it was west of St. Catherine's - the radio bearing had been 130° and we were even farther west than we had suspected. To date we have been unable to account for the size of our error and we no longer think navigation easy!

Now the Wayfarer again showed her value by safely pointing up wind and offshore under jib alone. After a struggle Tony got the main hoisted with 8 or 10 rolls and a webbing belt tucked in to allow a kicking strap connection. The rest of the trip was plain sailing until the goose neck broke under the twisting strain of the kicking-strap as we came on the run after rounding St. Catherine's with its meaning fog horn. Since it was a run for the rest of the way we took the main down and hoisted our second jib and poled it out to windward. A little later we sighted a naval vessel, probably a fishery patrol. After a few minutes they must have spotted us for they suddenly got up speed and swung towards us. They must soon have decided that we were not poaching from the lobster pots and fishing nets we were passing nor, despite our peculiar appearance with double jib, were we in distress, for they sheered off and left us.

That really was the last incident and twenty-five hours after starting we entered Chichester Harbour and beached at Itchenor, proudly flying our yellow flag.