Last time we tried to cross the Channel in our Drascombe Lugger, we had to turn back through seasickness. This time we were more fortunate.

Susan, David and I, their father, set off one day in early July from Poole with the intention of ultimately reaching Guernsey, where I had a business appointment the following Wednesday, but to start off for Cherbourg. We left in a fair amount of chaos partly through family arguments and partly because pressure of business gave me no time for preparation. As a result we left with a compass only bought that morning and untested (we checked it against our hand bearing compasses once we were at sea, and found it reasonably accurate) and also with an untested Seafix RDF and echo sounder. It was lunchtime so as we left harbour we tidied up the boat and had lunch. The weather was fair and the wind force 2-3 from the west but the visibility was not too good. In fact, once we left the line of the coast we only got two sets of bearings to enable us to fix our position before the coastline disappeared and we went off on a compass bearing.

It was a fine evening and night. The main problems were in crossing the shipping lanes, when on occasions we had to use our outboard, and to read the compass in the dark. The compass had a light but needed 12 volts and we had no electrics and were advised that there were no small 12 volt batteries available. Later in the trip we discovered that a 9 volt wireless battery was quite adequate to give sufficient light to read the compass. We took no set watches but when one got tired another took the tiller and so on. Susan in any case was feeling seasick so most of the work fell on David and me.

We tried to use our new Seafix RDF but were almost totally unsuccessful in picking up anything meaningful to help us fix our position. We saw one cross-channel ferry which comforted us. For the rest it was reliance on a compass course which was not at times very closely observed. I had noted all the lights we should see but we saw none, neither English or French, and by 7.00 am I was starting to get worried. We had not been able to fix our position since 4.00 pm the previous day. Then we saw another sail crossing our bow so we motored fast to meet it to ask for a position. This they kindly gave us — we were only about eight miles from Cherbourg and only very little off course. So finally we sailed into Cherbourg about 10.30 am, tired, no longer so cold, relieved and a bit jubilant at our success. We only saw the coast when we were three miles off, but we had no impression of haze out at sea, and it was this haze that had prevented us seeing any lights.

The rest of the day we cleared up, washed, slept and ate — particularly the latter as we found a very good and cheap French restaurant.

On Saturday we set off for Ormonville, a small harbour about eight miles west of Cherbourg. The wind was against us but the tide with us so we had an exciting and rather wet sail on a rising wind — but the weather was nice and sunny. Twice we shipped it green over the bows as we had to be quite far out to avoid the rocks nearer the shore. Ormonville turned out to be a delightful anchorage though we made complete fools of ourselves trying to anchor — mainly through trying to go in under sail in gusty conditions with odd eddies of tide in a crowded harbour. However, eventually we were snugged down; and the food in the restaurant was again very good.

Sunday we had planned for Alderney and in any case we had run out of French money and could not find anyone to cash a travellers cheque. So, though the forecast was a little marginal (a head wind and possibility of fog), we set off. The wind was just about dead in our teeth and the visibility was variable, but we decided to go just past Cap de Ia Hague (the northwest corner of the Cherbourg peninsula), carry on if we could see Alderney, or turn back if we could not. It was very rough off Cap de la Hague. We were under slow motor but we slipped it green over our bows and the motion was very violent — on one extra steep wave our bumkin caught on our dinghy and broke and had to be taken in — not easy in those conditions. Once past Cap de La Hague Alderney was visible and the sea went down and we quietly motored on to Alderney, the whole trip taking about 5 hours.

We had intended to leave next day for Guernsey but a mist came down and visibility was reduced to half a mile so we stayed where we were and saw something of Alderney — a nice peaceful island.

That evening we heard frightening stories of the overfalls in the Swinge, the channel we were to use the next day on our way to Guernsey, but it seemed to be much a matter of getting the tides right. Certainly the next morning we went out fully dressed for anything and watching our transits very carefully. But it was all a bit of an anti-climax and we had a smooth and trouble free passage with light winds. At one time we had all six sails up: foresail, spinnaker, jib, main, mizzen staysail and mizzen. The wind completely died as we got to Guernsey and we had to motor the last bit in.

The following day I had to work in Guernsey so the children cleaned the boat and did the shopping and laundry. David took the Seafix in to be checked and it turned out that the dial was 15 K.H. out of true which was why we had not been able to get any beacons on our way to Cherbourg; also we needed a better earpiece as ours was not working properly (and this was on a brand new instrument). I would certainly advise anyone to check an instrument before use. The next two days we were more or less tied to Guernsey as my youngest daughter, Zoë, was coming out to join us there. So we spent two very pleasant days cruising the nearby islands, Herm and Sark in particular. Seeing Sark by horse and cart was very pleasant and we anchored in a most delightful rocky bay with steps up to the plateau of the island. The trip to the part of Sark we went to was very easy (we picked the bay to avoid having to rock-dodge the whole time) and created no navigation problems and we had a glorious reach there. Navigation to Herm was more tricky but we made it quite safely.

Zoë arrived at 6.30 am on Saturday morning fairly tired as a result of socialising all night (no doubt why she was seasick later) and we left at 8.00 am for Jersey. We knew we had got the tides against us but this was a factor of mooring in the marina with a sill and access only at certain heights of tide. The wind was free however so we set the spinnaker and boomed out the main. All went well till just beyond Sark and then the wind started to die and finally just off the coast of Jersey we had to put the engine on and motor to St. Helier. (We cleared La Corbiere, the rocky and dangerous southwest corner of Jersey, by using a vertical sextant angle). The marks at St. Helier were very difficult to pick out as a stranger but we found our way in the end, though with some uncertainty.

We had intended to go on to Granville or St. Malo, and study of tide tables and tidal atlases showed Granville was the better choice. We would have to rise at 5.30 the next morning in order to leave at 7.00 to navigate 30 miles of rather dangerous water. I duly got up at 5.30 am but there was a sea mist and almost no wind: local advice was that the mist would not lift before midday (it didn’t) and it was in my view not wise to go in those conditions so I went back to bed! Zoë was keen to see Jersey so later in the day we hired a car and drove all round the island.

The next day, Monday, gave us a good forecast but it was now too late, with our other commitments, to go on to France so we set off back to Guernsey. In spite of the forecast, as we turned the southwest corner of Jersey thick fog came down with visibility of 100 yds or so. I decided to carry on so we put up the radar reflector and started using the foghorn. David, who by popular vote had the most hot air, was given the fog horn and had to blow it once a minute for 4 hours which gave us all a headache! We were under motor for there was next to no wind and we had to stop to use the RDF as the outboard interfered with reception. We stopped twice to check our dead reckoning position by RDF; fortunately both produced similar results. When the fog finally lifted as we approached Guernsey we were only 1½ miles from where we wanted to be and we were very satisfied with that! Not all boats were using their horns — we saw one small coaster about two cables away when the fog lifted slightly which was making no concessions to the fog.

The trip from Guernsey to Alderney had a different form of excitement. We had timed our arrival at Alderney to be at slack water but got involved in a private race with a Drascombe Drifter (a larger version of the Lugger with a cabin), put up some extra sails, and got to Alderney too early. The first bit of the tide race in the Swinge channel seemed all right but as we turned for Alderney harbour we came into the overfalls. It was not spring tides and wind and tide were together but nevertheless it was pretty rough. The Lugger rode it magnificently and we only took one dollop of green water over the side; much larger boats seemed to be having as much if not more trouble. It was an interesting experience, but I was glad it was no rougher! Guernsey incidentally was the only port that asked us to report our departure as they were worried about us, and they phoned Alderney to give our ETA.

From Alderney we returned to Cherbourg. We started off with a following wind, fairly light, so we set the spinnaker, boomed out the main, put a paddle to hold out the mizzen, and used an oar to boom out the mizzen staysail on the other side of the mizzen mast. We kept well off Cap de Ia Hague after our experience going to Alderney, but even 3 or so miles off it was fairly rough. The wind gradually increased and swung towards the south and by the time we were entering Cherbourg harbour it was somewhere between a 5 and 6 from the southwest, and we were really having to sit her out — it was very exhilarating, but rather wet.

We reached Cherbourg on the Friday evening and I had to be back and clear by the following Wednesday. The forecast for Saturday was NW force 4-5, gusting 6, and going down to 3 at night with no change likely for 48 hours. In the circumstances I decided to go on the Saturday, for there seemed no chance of immediate improvement and thereafter it might get worse. We reefed the main before we set off, and it was very rough just off Cherbourg, certainly for the first 3 miles or so and we were taking spray continuously and got very wet.

About 10 miles off shore David advised that we should turn back and Zoë felt seasick. However bearing in mind the forecast, the effect on morale of turning back and then having to set off again, possibly in similar conditions, and the fact that although the conditions were uncomfortable, they were not dangerous, I decided to carry on; so on we went. Soon Zoë was lying down under a ‘space’ blanket for insulation. She was very brave and cheerful considering how she felt. David felt very tired and went to sleep: so Susan and I shared the helm though I tended to keep it when the conditions were at their worst.

In the evening I chose a clear patch with sun to get ready for the night. We hove-to so we could get dressed without getting even wetter. We hadn’t enough dry clothing to be able to change so we just added extra layers on top of our existing wet clothes, on the basis of ‘the more insulation the better’. Judging by our condition, our waterproofs were not as waterproof as they were thought to be.

We moved Zoë from the side-deck to the floor boards, took in the main and continued under jib and mizzen, and then, at night fall, to hold our course with a slight wind shift, started the engine at low throttle. I lit the navigation lights but the port one kept on going out and eventually, with our lighters out of gas and all our matches wet, we carried on with just the stern and starboard lights. By about 10 o’clock we were all very cold in our clothing and tended to shiver. We were now half-way so there was no point in turning back, even if we had wanted to. So on we went, cold, wet, but unafraid with even further confidence in the boat. Pumping was a continuous bugbear — quite apart from what came over the top, a certain amount came through the centreboard casing.

About 1 o’clock we could see the loom of St. Catherine’s and Portland Bill lights and fairly shortly afterwards Anvil Point light. It was clear that we were too far east and, while we could have gone for a Solent port, we preferred to press on for Poole and baths and dry clothing — additionally I was a little worried about Zoë in case she suffered from hypothermia as the least robust among us. So as daylight came and Anvil Light could be seen directly, we furled jib and mizzen and motored into the teeth of the wind. We all felt a bit low and even I had to take some Stugeron for seasickness. The night was very clear and cold and we were too cold to sleep and spray was still coming in regularly. Anvil light had seemed very close but in fact it was several hours before we closed the point and just as we did so, our forestay came loose. David claimed it was broken so we lowered the mainmast — we were on engine in any case. In fact all that had come away was a split pin which we could have easily replaced. It shows the effect of cold and tiredness — all our hands were swollen by then from exposure and it hurt to use them.

So finally, cold, wet, but triumphant we arrived at Poole after about 23 hours at sea and phoned to say we had got back. Our wet clothes almost completely covered my mother’s lawn — Zoë had 12 layers of clothing!

To talk some generalities — we should have had better waterproofs. Otherwise our equipment was fine and we never missed being able to cook. Our barometer was not really used but was consoling in its steadiness. I had bought the Seafix RDF because of the prevalence of fog in the Channel Islands and was very glad to have it. The echo sounder gave confirmation of our position and was useful for finding our way into unknown anchorages. The plastic sextant was useful for distance off via vertical angles. Speed we guessed at, or used the ‘Dutchman’s log’ or a cheap plastic speedometer we had. I learnt how to use transits in the Channel Islands and to respect the force of the huge tides. We used the foghorn and radar reflector in earnest. We still haven’t used our sea anchor — fortunately. We used ‘Wet Notes’ for our navigation notes to use on route — but I would recommend anyone to buy just a refill pad rather than the whole wallet. This waterproof paper is a very good idea. Stugeron seasick pills were effective. Everyone took them at one time or another but there was a tendency not to take them till too late!

Would I do it again — I don’t know! I am now over 50 and this is a bit old to be doing these sort of voyages in an open boat. I certainly thoroughly enjoyed the cruise, and if I was doing it again in an open boat, could not choose a better boat than the Drascombe Lugger.