Thar she blows or The Voyages of the Puffin Too

Bought in 1973 of glued ply planking with laminated stem and knees. Varnished, sixteen feet overall, 6’ 3” beam. Wood plate and rudder, red sails 135 square feet in all.

She was built by a friend, Ken Harris at Littlehampton, on his Brixham trawler Vigilance, now over at East Cowes. I had enjoyed a smaller 12’ dinghy for some years which was also built by him. I asked if he would build me a larger one, and this he did with the barest of drawings but a lot of know-how. The result was a beamy, scow-looking dinghy that sails fairly fast and is extremely stable.

By this year, we had just about got things settled down enough to consider a week afloat in it, and I arranged for a cover to be made. This was made by Russell and Chapple in London (very good firm, and very helpful) in blue PVC on nylon with fore and aft openings and four flexible windows so as to be able to admire the scenery when you are shaving. So there she was, all ready to try out and nowhere to go — yet. Why not the West Country? Roger Davis lives there and supplied a lot of information, for which my thanks.

We arrived at Falmouth on the 30th June. Launched in a strong wind. I got stuck up at Penryn the first night (which Roger had warned us not to do). After that, though, we had a glorious week. The wind was generally between one and three, so we were able to go more or less where we wanted to. It really is a smashing area for the dinghy cruiser. There are really quiet inlets to moor in and plenty of bird life to study. We weakened one night and had bed and breakfast at Gillan Helford, but otherwise lived entirely aboard.

Thus strengthened in our confidence, I decided to try the Channel. Something I have wanted to do for several years, but available time and conditions never seemed to coincide till this year. However, we planned to try on the 3rd August as the weather appeared settled. Ann’s parents live at Pegwell Bay, so Ramsgate was the point of departure. I decided to leave at 12.30 pm, this giving us time to sort ourselves out in the morning and let some of the west-going tide spend itself.

I had planned to get down to the South Goodwin Buoy about slack water, so that by then we could decide whether to continue or return with the tide under us. The wind was easterly, about force two to three, really perfect. Just enough to sit up to and all sail set. Very sunny and a bit misty, we lost sight of Ramsgate in an hour. Rather an uneventful five hours passed, and we saw the occasional tanker and ferry passing. Steering 155° and then 135° most of the way till the cliffs of Cap Gris-Nez loomed up out of the mist. Too far west… blast! We went into a beat to aim for Calais, but as it was still very misty we had little to aim for. The wind strengthened after a bit and headed us when in sight of the harbour entrance, so we decided to motor the last mile in. The crew’s handiwork was hoisted, in the shape of the French flag, and also a Q-flag.

Why did I finish up a couple of miles round the coast after all my careful planning? It was a bit worrying to realise that I was out in the landfall, bearing in mind that I had been steering a compass course, and out of sight of land for approximately six hours. On going over the details, I realised I had hung onto the first bearing of 155° too long — being worried over clearing the Goodwins — and had not corrected enough. Also, speed through the water was underestimated. I had assumed three and a half knots, and allowed for a change of tide one and a half to two hours off France in order to carry us back a bit. Going at over four knots, I had forgotten about the earlier ETA, which meant that I had used only the west-going tide. It should have been right, but I had not stuck to my detailed plan and had not reassessed during the trip. You never stop learning, it appears — especially our own weaknesses.

Anyway, we moored to a buoy outside the lock gates, had a meal and wine onboard, and slept. We had to go to customs the following day and we got our Green Card for the duty-free. We had a look around Calais, and then had a very good French lunch at a restaurant near the large park in the town, and treated ourselves to bed and breakfast.

The yacht club in the lock marina was very helpful, and got us a home telephone number. Their wind speed indicator the following day showed just the wind we needed, though the forecast was changeable — wind force three to four westerly. So we decided to go at 11.30am, and steered a similar course of 334° to get to the South Goodwin buoy and catch the tide up inside. It was still very misty, and we soon lost sight of land. The crew? Ann had been a bit queasy on the way across, but a couple of Dramamine pills cleared it up for the return.

We must have been well in mid-channel when I saw a fin about 50 yards off, and shouted to the sleeping crew to look at the shark, as I thought. It appeared a large one. A second or so later a hefty jet sound came from behind me, and then they were gliding past about twenty five yards off, just breaking the surface and curving down again. Then a tail came out of the water, and I realised we were alongside a school of whales! (very nice with chips!). Ann reckoned there must have been about fifteen to twenty, as she was watching more than I (frightened out of my wits, I might add). Nothing else happened, thank goodness, till about an hour off the coast, when we did catch sight of something: it was the chimneys at Richborough on our port bow. Too far over… too far out on the wrong side of the Goodwins! Fortunately we found the cut through it, and it wasn’t rough. We headed into Ramsgate and straight up the ramp, loaded up, and found the customs men just leaving. They had to fill in their forms kneeling on the hard by the dinghy — not quite what they were used to, it appeared.

It was a good sail back, again approximately seven and a half hours. We had to reef for an hour or so, as it blew up a bit, but no other trouble. Wrong again, though, on navigation; what was the trouble this time? Working it out, I had misjudged speed again, and also made no allowance for wind in the other direction, with the tide.

Had the weather been clear I could, I suppose, have steered by land sighting, but it was not. And if it had been at night, or the conditions worse in some way, it would not have been funny.

Lessons learned? I must get an accurate method of speed reckoning. I must also check details of proposed action plan against actual sailing conditions as I proceed.

This is John Clark’s boat, built for him by Ken Harris of Littlehampton in 1973 of glued ply planking with laminated stem and knees, wood plate and rudder. John says she sails fairly fast and is extremely stable. She crossed to Calais and back in 1975.