Last year I sailed round Anglesey in an anti-clockwise direction, leaving Conwy on the 9th July and arriving back late on the 13th. The weather was fine and very calm and I spent more time rowing with the tide than sailing.

This year I decided to join the Anglesey Dinghy Cruise, but when I contacted John Gray he told me that there had been no applicants for the cruise, so he had planned to sail alone in his Mirror dinghy Little Mischief, which he was busy modifying so that he could fit his stores into the side buoyancy tanks. He had also made a plastic tent so that he could sleep on board. His bed was to be an old army stretcher fitted fore and aft across the buoyancy tanks. We discussed the trip and John suggested that we be ready to sail from Plas y Deri at 1400 hours on Saturday the 5th. Unfortunately, because of unexpectedly heavy traffic conditions due to road works I didn’t arrive until 1545. I was expecting to find John ‘champing at the bit’, but he was still loading Little Mischief. I was also surprised to see another DCA boat on the slip. This boat was the beautifully modified Mirror 16 Cat-Su-Pen belonging to Bryan Collins, who was accompanied by Roddy Roddis.

My boat Jane, by the way, is a Tarpon hull fitted with a 70lb centre plate. The rig is Bermudan with a roller reefing genoa and a large easily reefed mainsail which needs a reef in anything above force 3.

To anyone unfamiliar with the Island of Anglesey, it should be noted that it is an obstruction in the tidal stream which flows up and down the west coast. On the Menai Strait, the flood is funnelled in at the Caernarfon end and is later met by the flood from the Puffin Island end, with the additional hazard of The Swellies which lie between the road and rail bridges which link Anglesey with the mainland. This area can only be passed by any boat at, or near slack water.

Sailing in a clockwise direction as we did from Plas y Deri, the first hazard is the Abermenai narrows at the SW end of the strait through which the tide pours at up to 5 knots and can only be sailed through with the tide, or at slack water. An additional hazard is the Caernarfon bar, but this didn’t worry us dinghy sailors as we could cut across the North Sands. Once clear of the straits, tidal streams are weak until Cymyran Strait is reached. This strait has its own tidal pattern as complex as that of the larger Menai Strait. Once past Cymyran the rate of the tidal stream speeds up as the water is forced round the end of Holyhead Island. Races and overfalls can be encountered off Rhoscolyn Head and Penrhyn Mawr.

But in a dinghy it is relatively easy to avoid these by sailing close inshore and passing between the shore and some of the outlying rocks and islets. Once past Penrhyn Mawr, the Stacks have to be negotiated. Here is the Holyhead race where the tide is forced around the headland. It is only wise to pass this point at slack water close inshore, and at any other time, anything less than 3 miles out is likely to be a bit rough, and in strong winds the whole area is dangerous. Once round the Stacks, Holyhead breakwater is only two miles away, but even there is a fast tide with the stream running across the harbour entrance at up to 3 knots.

Carmel Head and the Skerries is the next hazard and again it should be passed at or near slack water, and for dinghies and yachts the inshore passage is recommended. Last year I was off the Skerries just after the tide had turned, and with my 5hp outboard going flat out I couldn’t make any headway. It was only the light and fitful wind which enabled me to sail very slowly clear. Once round Carmel Head the tide sweeps in and out of Liverpool Bay, and when sailing with the tide, one is carried along in fine style unless there is a headwind to build up an uncomfortable sea. Lynas Point is the next corner to turn, and this again has its race which should only be attempted at or near slack water unless it is very calm. The tide will continue to carry the boat along to Moelfre and beyond, where it weakens until Red Wharf Bay is passed and the stream into and out of the Menai Straits and Conwy Bay is felt in Table Roads. The stream here runs at up to 3 knots. Once past this point and into the Menai Strait, the channel winds between sandbanks to Beaumaris and narrows as it approaches Bangor pier. Then comes the road bridge and The Swellies.

I have made no mention of the many bays and coves that we did not visit, and anyone wishing to familiarize themselves with the area should read Dr Robert Kemp’s Cruising Guide to Anglesey and the Menai Straits.

We launched all 3 boats and by 1715 were ready to sail. We decided to sail round the island in a clockwise direction, as the tides were generally favourable for sailing that way. The ebb was favourable but with a SW 3-4 wind against it, conditions were a little bit choppy. Before sailing we arranged to meet in the lee of Abermenai Point and there, decide whether to sail round to Pilot’s Cove (which is in the lee of Llanddwyn Island) or remain. Cat-Su-Pen proved to be a faster boat than Little Mischief or Jane and arrived first, but we were all anchored by 1830 hours and decided to remain, as John had neglected to put ‘oilies’ on before sailing and was rather cold and wet. Bryan and Roddy very quickly erected their tent which is of the pram hood type. I moored to the shore and went for a walk while John began the long task of preparing Little Mischief for the night. I say long task because in a Mirror there is not much room for movement and it was also John’s first night afloat.

Our distance from Plas y Deri — 4 ½ miles.

Sunday 6th July

HW Liverpool 0600 and 1825. Correction on Abermenai Point - 85 mins. Forecast: a fine day with light SW wind.

At 1015 I sailed with the last of the ebb, arriving at Pilot’s Cove at 1130. Cat-Su-Pen arrived a few minutes later, and as Bryan and Roddy wanted to catch the tide into the inland sea on the Cymyran Strait they sailed again at 1215. John had taken longer than he had expected to get Little Mischief ready to sail, and must have only just got through the Abermenai Narrows before the tide turned, so had the flood against him. I decided to wait for him, and settled down with a book to sunbathe, at the same time keeping one eye on Little Mischief in the distance. At 1400 I saw LM disappear into a cove further round the bay and assumed that John had stopped for lunch. At 1445 I looked up just in time to see LM disappearing round the point. I dressed quickly, hoisted all sail and went in pursuit, but here our luck changed. The wind, which had been very light, dropped, so I started the outboard until I caught up with John. He had also given up trying to sail and was rowing. He refused a tow, so I stopped the engine and rowed with him with the sails set to give maximum lift, and although Jane is a heavy boat, I soon left John behind. Finally, at 1715, I tired of rowing and motored the rest of the way to Cymyran Strait. The tide had turned and was running out at about 3 knots when I arrived. I motored through the entry and into the pool. There was no sign of Bryan and Roddy, so I had a cup of coffee and took stock of the situation. I decided that even if John got this far he would not be able to get into the Strait. I therefore started the outboard and went in search of him, and found him rowing doggedly along the coast about 4 miles away. We were close to Mynydd Mawr (Telegraph Cove) and decided to anchor there for the night. We were both of the opinion that the cruise was in danger of turning into a marathon, and decided to let Bryan and Roddy romp on ahead in Cat-Su-Pen and we would follow on at our own pace and only use the outboard in an emergency.

Distance from Abermenai Point — 9 miles.

Monday 7th July

HW Liverpool 0705 and 1930. Correction on South Stack - 60 mins; Cymyran - 70 mins. Forecast: winds light NNW, mainly fine.

We discussed whether to go through the Cymyran Strait, or round the Stacks, and decided on the Stacks. Looking at the tidal predictions we decided to time our arrival at South Stack for 1730, which should give us time to cross Gogarth Bay before the tide turned. Sailed at 1045 with a beam wind off the shore, called at Rhosneigr to purchase a repair kit for my airbed which had sprung a leak. We had lunch and sailed again at 1300, still with a beam wind. At 1530 we arrived at Porth Ruffydd where we stopped for a drink and a snack and to wait for the tide. There was also a party of canoeists in the bay; they had come round the stacks and were going back again. They paddled off shortly before we sailed again at 1615. We rounded South Stack at 1715, turned into the wind and started to beat across Gogarth Bay to North Stack. Soon after rounding South Stack we saw a maroon go up and shortly afterwards the lifeboat came round North Stack. As we tacked past each other, John told me that he had seen what looked like a small fishing boat in the distance, but had no idea that it was in trouble. (It just goes to show how little can be seen from a small boat).

John and I continued to beat towards North Stack and found that we weren’t making much headway: it appeared that the tide had turned early due to the north wind. On it’s way back with a rubber dinghy in tow, the lifeboat crew offered us a tow, but we declined and continued on our way, making most headway when close to the cliffs. We saw the canoeists ahead of us, but they drew away. There were also climbers on the cliffs. When we reached North Stack the tide was running strongly. I decided to try to get round the point and found that I could just make headway. John followed and gained a little by sailing between the stack and its outlier. The prospect ahead didn’t look very promising, with breaking waves on the point; however we were still making headway by short tacking very close to the cliffs. I was a few yards ahead of John when I saw that he had been stopped by a standing wave and forced into a tiny cove in the cliff face, and did not reappear. At that point I was forced to keep going, but as soon as I was able I went about and sailed back to see if I could be of any assistance. I saw that John was quite safe for the moment in his little cove, although it could possibly turn into a dangerous eddy when the tide really started running. I went about again and sailed clear of the race, started the outboard, furled the sails, and went back and into the cove under power. I was then able to pass John a rope and tow him clear. We then set sail again and continued to plug against wind and tide, finally arriving at Holyhead at 2030, to find Bryan and Roddy sitting on a mooring where they had been all day. Their burgee had been seen by Paul McMahon, who had made himself known to them and acted as boatman in his RAF inflatable.

Our distance from Nynydd Mawr — 17 miles.

Tuesday 8th July

HW Liverpool 0812 and 2038. Difference on Carmel Head 50 mins. Estimated LW 1400, but according to Kemp’s guide the flood is said to start at up to one hour earlier. Forecast: wind N f4-5.

We sailed at 1100 hours; another beat to windward against the ebb. Cat-Su-Pen drew away from Jane and Little Mischief and we saw her weather the head. John hove-to in Church Bay, and when I drew level with him he told me that Little Mischief was shipping too much water to try rounding the head, and suggested that we make for Fydlyn Cove and try again at the end of the flood which we could see had started. Arriving at Fydlyn Cove we moored just off the rocky beach and had lunch. John did some washing and I went for a walk up to the top of the head to watch the race. It was quite a sight when viewed from above. There was also a short vicious race off the point of Fydlyn Cove, and at 1800 this appeared to be dying down a little. John suggested that we try to pass it, and work our way close inshore and round the head at slack water. I led the way out of the bay and was going well when I saw John waving me back, and it was only when I went about that I realised how rough it was. It was a long 5 minutes before I reached smooth water again. The waves had been a confused jumble up to 6 feet high. We decided that, rather than run back to Holyhead, we would spend the night in the bay. John, who had previously camped ashore, was confident that we would have no problems. The bottom is rock and kelp, so we moored the boats in line, with John’s fisherman over the bows of Little Mischief and mine over the stern, on the seaward side, both anchors buoyed.

I wasn’t altogether happy about our position and decided to keep an anchor watch. At 0030, after listening to the shipping forecast, I looked out over the stern and saw that we were swinging closer to the rocks on the north side of the cove as the tide went out and our ropes slackened. I was about to tighten my anchor rope and pull us away when I heard John call out. He had been wakened by a grating sound which I had missed while listening to the radio. On taking a closer look we found that Little Mischief was sitting on a rock, but our movements drifted her clear. By shortening both bow and stern lines, we were able to pull the boats well clear of the rock and we both went back to bed. I kept an hourly lookout till morning, taking in and paying out the stern line as necessary. At low water it was coming daylight, and I could see that John’s rock was the only outlier on the north side of the cove. Fortunately, it was rounded, unlike the many fangs on the south side.

Our distance from Holyhead was 5 miles.

Wednesday 9th July

HW Liverpool 0918 and 2141. Difference on Carmel Head 50 mins. Forecast: wind NNW f4-5.

We made an estimate of the probable turn of the tide round the head and sailed at 1330. The sea was confused and the wind NW 2-3, and as we beat round the head we found the tide still against us, but managed to make headway against it. We called at Cemlyn Bay for a late lunch, and to give John time to try to work out the safe passage through Harry Furlough’s Reef. Sailed again at 1600. Wind very light NW, but the flood carried us along. Arrived Lynas Cove 1830 and anchored for the night.

Our distance from Fydlyn Cove — 11 miles.

Thursday 10th July

HW Liverpool 1020 and 2239. Difference on Lynas Point 45 mins.

After a very good night’s sleep we spent the morning lazing about, and at 1400 we sailed into Amlwch to do some shopping. Sailed again at 1530 and rounded Lynas Point at slack water, and with the wind behind us for the first time. Enjoyed a pleasant sail to Traeth Bychan. On the way I passed between Ynys Dulas and Gareg Alian, and spotted 3 seals in the water close to the rocks. Arrived Traeth Bychan at 1715 and debated whether to continue sailing, but decided against it as there are no sheltered anchorages before the Menai Strait apart from Red Wharf Bay, which dries out at half tide. To prove our decision right, the wind died soon after we anchored. We went ashore for a stroll and to use the telephone, then back on board for a meal and bed.

Our distance from Lynas Cove — 6 miles

Friday 11th July

HW Liverpool 1114 and 2331. Difference on Trwyn Du 45 mins.

A chilly night with a sharp shower in the early hours. We rose to find a very light W wind, a slight drizzle and moderate visibility. I went for a walk into Moelfre and on my way back had a chat with one of the members of the Red Wharf Bay sailing club. He wanted to know what we were doing, and asked me if we were some kind of masochists. He said that he had read about people like us but didn’t really believe we existed. When I pointed out that we preferred to cruise rather than sail round the same set of buoys time after time, he conceded that we might not be quite so mad after all.

At 1200 the wind veered NW and freshened to about force 3 and blew the drizzle away. We didn’t really need to sail until about 1500, but 2 speed boats arrived and started to buzz round the bay, passing between us and the shore and setting up an uncomfortable wash. We asked them to give us a bit more clearance but we were told by one of the drivers that the sea was free and they would go where they liked. His boat had the Lake Windermere registration numbers on the side so I took the number told him that I would report him if he continued to annoy us. He took the hint and gave us a bit more clearance. The episode had, however, left a nasty taste, so we sailed at 1400. We had a good following wind against the ebb, which in this area was weak, and we made good time to Red Wharf Bay, where we looked at the anchorage. It is only accessible after half flood, and, despite its apparently open aspect, there is good shelter for boats that take the ground. Beyond Red Wharf Bay the rate of the ebb, which runs along this part of the coast at up to 3 knots, speeded up and the seas became shorter; but with the sails goose winged we made good progress — although John told me later that he had found it very tiring, holding Little Mischief on course. As we were well ahead of schedule, John suggested that we sail round Puffin Island instead of going through the narrows, which in these conditions would be rather rough. At this point we were well inshore of the fastest run of the ebb and we had to cross this stretch of water. It was an exciting sail with spray flying everywhere. When we arrived in the lee of Puffin Island we found it to be worse than the ‘narrows’ where there were standing waves. Violent williwaws threw the boats around like ping pong balls. We finally cleared the island and sailed down the Menai Strait to Beaumaris, where the flood from Caernarfon met us and halted further progress. We moored the boats to the shore and went for a drink. Returning at slack water we moored the boats in line on a vacant mooring and settled down for the night.

Our distance from Traeth Bychan — 13 miles.

Saturday 12th July

HW Liverpool 1200. Difference on Swellies 2 hours. Wind blowing up the Strait f2, with gusts of f4-5.

We sailed at 0800 against the wind and the flood from Caernarfon, and arrived at the Swellies at 1015, just as the tide turned. The only problems that we encountered were from gusts of wind, which funnelled through the arches of the bridges. As it was high water we did not follow the recommended route, but meandered round the islands.

Both John and I were amused to see several yachts come up past us. All were under power although they had a good following wind. After the Swellies the tide was with us but the wind had increased to force 4-5 with squalls of up to force 7. Was caught in mid-channel by one of these and in a few minutes Jane had shipped more water than she had done all week. Luckily Little Mischief was in more sheltered water at the time. We finally arrived back at Plas y Deri at 1200 hours. Mr Jackson, the warden, told us that Bryan and Roddy had arrived back on the previous day after having spent a day in Deganwy.

The distance we made good during the week was about 74 miles; more than 50 of them were to windward.

Both John and I enjoyed the trip. For me it was very much different to last time, and next time will be different again. For John, it was his first circumnavigation, and his first trip sleeping on board Little Mischief. He still has one or two problems to iron out, the main one being the strength of Little Mischief’s hull. When I am alone I often let Jane dry out on sand or mud so that I can spend a few hours ashore, and when it is a bit rough I can spend a quiet night, but on this trip John was reluctant to let Little Mischief dry out because of the risk of damage to the hull. He is, however, planning to experiment with some polystyrene pads which he hopes to be able to pass beneath the hull and hold in place with a couple of lengths of rope on occasions when he wants to, or needs to take the ground.

One point worth mentioning is our very different catering arrangements. John had planned on being completely independent of the shore and had stocked Little Mischief with a well-planned and very varied stock of convenience foods, sufficient for the whole week. I, on the other hand, prefer fresh food, and as we are never very far from a town or village, I buy in for 2 or 3 days at once, and only carry convenience food for emergencies. In fact during the whole week I only opened 2 tins.

Members may like to read John Gray’s version of the rounding of the Stacks:

HW Holyhead was 1900. At 1730 we were happily romping past the South Stack lighthouse with the flood, not much race to bother us. Wind force 3 northerly.

Between South and North Stack we noted and commented that we didn’t seem to be making much progress and, thinking we’d got in a back eddy, we went offshore tacking. There we met the lifeboat returning to Holyhead with a putt-putt fishing boat in tow. They hailed us saying, “You’re not making any headway… tide has turned… do you want a tow?” I was astonished at the suggestion! Tide turned? Impossible! Over an hour to go. And tow? Never!

Diplomatic Edwin pointed out that he had an outboard and the lifeboat went on. But the tide had turned, about 1 to 1½ hours earlier than all the pilots and my own experience would state.

We had one hell of a fight passing the North Stack. I won’t give you a blow-by-blow account, but mention that I passed between that big offshore rock and the foghorn station taking a short cut, but still failed to pass the 100-yard stretch north of the offshore rock.

And here I have to say that if the DCA has a medal or cup awarded for bravery in a cruise, I’d nominate Edwin. He and I were within shouting distance with him in front when I simply stopped. I ran out of wind, with strong current and big seas forcing me back. I grabbed the oars and rowed, but the seas were throwing me around, knocking oars out of rowlocks and on one occasion throwing me across the boat. I retreated into a cove, no more than a depression in the rocks, where I was out of the tide but not out of the swell. I had some idea that I could stay there until the tide calmed down. Got sails down and boat shipshape when Edwin re-appeared, sailing around the rocks in turbulent seas. I shouted to him to go away, I’d be all right, and he disappeared again. Thought he’d gone and I was beginning to realise it really wasn’t practical with night approaching for me to stay where I was. The alternative was to run with the ebb back into Penrhos Bay through the races again.

Then Edwin re-appeared, sails stowed and outboard on. He towed me out and into Porth Namarch. We then had a wet hard grind against the ebb, sailing into the northerly 2-3 all along the breakwater and thankfully into Holyhead.