(A cruise by Mirror dinghy around the Welsh coast)

Aberystwyth

Saturday morning, 9th July, the early forecast was the usual "Variable, 3 or less". Cleared harbour at 10.30, heading north for Aberdovey, 9 miles away, with ebb against me until mid-afternoon. Wind was mainly light and heading me, or calm, when I used the "10' strides" as I liked to think of rowing. The last few miles were tacking against a N2 to the Aberdovey Bar Buoy. No problem like last time as wind was along the shore and over half-tide flood, so we sailed easily the mile to Aberdovey Pier where I tied Little Mischief to a ladder and climbed ashore for water and phone. Met the Harbour Master (to be exact, he made a point of meeting me) who remembered our last visit and that I hadn't reported to him. Rather an officious type, but I was polite and regretful and he arranged a drying mooring for me a few hundred yards upstream, close inshore. In the night I awoke and could see by the street lights that the dried-out sandbank was very uneven. From my limited viewpoint at the stern, Little Mischief seemed very unstable, but she was level and didn't seem to move, so I went back to sleep.

Forecast at 06.25 was E 3-4 which raised my hopes of a run back across the northern head of Cardigan Bay to Lleyn Peninsular. HW was 08.45 and we left the mooring at 09.30 and, with a good east wind and plenty of water, took a short cut across the sandbanks to clear the estuary. Then NNW up the coast about a mile offshore, reaching Sarn y Bwch off Pen Bwch Point at 11.00. This was our take-off point for the 17 mile crossing. Weather was hot, visibility poor at 2 miles or less. Tide against us until 15.30. Crossing Sarn y Bwch, the good East wind died for about an hour, then picked up to E 1-2 when all land had disappeared in the misty heat haze.

I had decided on a NW course for the headland of Trwyn Cilan to give a later choice of turning NE to Abersoch, or more westerly to Aberdaron. This course would take us across the end of Sarn Badrig, but if I was too much to the south I'd hope to see the Causeway buoy which was a mile or two off the end. I had two compasses, both of the small hill-walker's pocket type by Silva. The larger had a mirror so I used that for shaving and kept it in my toilet bag as a spare. The other is, I think, the smallest and cheapest that Silva make. It had been knocked off the thwart several times during the trip and on 2 or 3 occasions it had been found in the bilge water when bailing out. But it gave true and faithful service throughout, so that at 15.00, after 3 hours without sight of land, we entered the disturbed waters at the end of Sarn Badrig and then saw, about a mile to the west, the Causeway Buoy. Such a pleasant warm feeling to know where you are and that the navigation has been good.

I spent much of that day stripped off to just a floppy hat, listening to Radio Wales. Rosie Swale was interviewed about an Atlantic crossing she intends to make, then I heard later a most interesting programme on Val Howell's round-the-World voyage. In the evening at anchor I enjoyed a programme on one of my favourite sailor/writers, Hillaire Belloc. Until this trip the radio had been strictly weather forecasts only.

We pottered on steadily northwestwards. Wind varied between 1-2 until 17.00, when I became suspicious that there was a change on the way. The sun had become overcast. It got chilly. Visibility to SW seemed less than elsewhere on the empty horizon. Then the wind died and the sails slatted. I started getting dressed and tidying up Little Mischief thinking it might be rain, and if so, wind. While bent down stowing gear in lockers I suddenly became aware of a strong wind blowing. Hurriedly I put on oilskins and lifejacket while Little Mischief steered herself in a SW3. After 72 hrs. with mainsail to port, it felt strange with sail to starboard. My senses told me loud and clear that we were heading in the wrong direction, but I trusted the compass and it didn't let us down. We went well for half an hour, then the wind slowly died to 1 and veered to N.

At 18.00 I saw Trwyn Cilan ahead, faint but definite, so decided to head for the 3 mile wide sandy bay of Porth Neigwl, otherwise known as Hell's Mouth, which forms the instep in the "foot" of Lleyn. With a fluky variable wind, and some rowing, it was 20.45 before I dropped the hooks in the eastern corner. Noted that this crossing had taken 11 hrs. 15 mins, compared with 7 hrs. going South; distance similar at 24 miles in total. I remembered the last time I'd come in here, several years before; while heading for the shore in a light wind to find a campsite. I'd been surprised to find Little Mischief being lifted by swell, then noticed the line of breaking surf on shore. Now we're not used to this in the Irish Sea, but I'd read all the right books on how to land in surf, so I took all the right actions; stowed sails, rowed in stern first (not easy in a Mirror, even dropped an anchor just off the beach. When I landed, the "surf" was about 1' high! Well - it was good training!

Monday, 11th July I awoke for the 06.25 forecast, sat up in bed planning the passage of Bardsey Sound, then, satisfied that there was time to spare, went back to sleep until 08.30. At 11.45 set off for Aberdaron, 6 miles to the West. Kept inside the bay out of the ebb stream, mostly rowing in a hot sun. Reaching the other side of Hell's Mouth a light SW came up which then veered to W and blew 3, then veered more to N4 at 15.00. Rather hectic sailing for the 20 minutes it took to get out of the bay and round the headland, before the wind dropped off again to N1. Finally beat into the beach of holiday makers at Aberdaron and landed at 16.30. After some shopping, set off again at 17.30, on schedule, in N 2-3 for Bardsey Sound. The main north-going flood stream was due at 18.30, but I was hoping to use an inshore young flood that starts earlier.

The sun had gone behind cloud and the Sound had a dark, forbidding look about it. Bardsey Island, 12 miles away, was a dull dark mass and the high rock cliffs of the mainland shore, about 50-100 yds. away, were distinctly unwelcoming. The seas were reasonable but the wind was a gusty 3 off the cliffs that made me glad I'd reefed before leaving Aberdaron, but we were through and close inshore round Braich y Pwll headland in 25 minutes when the wind died again.

But soon it came back light from the North, and in the strong flood stream - it was nearly Springs - we tacked on and off shore, in and out of the waters above the Tripods reef. They were calm, but with menace in their round swirling bubble-like surface. Then ahead I saw a line of standing waves, breaking white, opposite Dinas Bach, a large outlier. Tacked close inshore while current swept us towards the waves, but we just missed them. So the Tripods weren't so quiet.

When 4 miles from Bardsey Sound I rowed into Porth Iago, with some difficulty as the tidal stream was trying very hard to force me past the entrance to the small rocky cove. Only about 200 yds. deep, with a 100 yd. wide entrance narrowing to a small, sandy beach, it is well sheltered except from SW. But rowing around I found a nasty looking underwater reef near the middle, so carefully dropped both anchors on sand. In the morning I awoke at 04.45. Knowing this to be about LW I had a look outside and found Little Mischief only about 5 yds. from the reef, which now seemed to tower above us. I shortened the scope of the anchors so I could enjoy an early breakfast. But then an uncomfortable swell started coming in and I lost my breakfast to the fishes. Don't know why I bothered cooking it.

Left at 07.30 with a good flood tide until HW at 11.30. Visibility was poor, at about ½ mile. Wind very variable and light or non-existent, so rowed a lot. With early start and lost breakfast I felt tired and lethargic, but finally passed the point at Porth Dinllaen, 82 miles, at 11.00. By 13.00 I'd crossed the bay after some delay due to wind and tide having turned against me, and had run Little Mischief aground on a shingle beach just to the west of Nefyn Point. It was a quiet spot, practically no one in sight, backed by high grassy cliffs. Wind had died again; hot cloudless blue sky; so I put a grapnel over bow with enough warp for 2-3 hours of rising tide, then took a long line ashore from the crown of the grapnel. So Little Mischief sat happily just of the light surf and when I returned I'd be able to pull her in with the long line. I then found a path up the cliffs and wandered off to Nefyn. The reader who has paid close attention to this narrative will now realise I'd made a stupid error. The only excuse I can offer, other than early senility, is the sickness in early morning.

It was a very pleasant walk of about 3 miles to Morfa Nefyn, and then to Nefyn, trying unsuccessfully to phone home three times. The cliff path overlooking the bay is a lovely walk with beautiful views. About 15.30 I arrived on the path above Little Mischief and was horrified to look down and see her high and dry, about 15 yds. up the shingle. Cursed myself for all kinds of fool. The tide was ebbing - not flooding!

Then spent two hours unloading heavy gear, and using a couple of wood rollers moved Little Mischief about 15 yds. down the shingle, by which time the water had ebbed a further 15 yds. Then a couple of holiday makers, the only ones in sight, offered help. Resting every few yards, we carried Little Mischief past weed covered rocks and left her on a sandbank near the water. Still no wind, so not worth trying to go further north that day, and besides re-stowing gear I had a couple of small maintenance jobs to do. Floated off at 19.30 and rowed round Nefyn Point to the moorings where I'd tied up before when sailing South.

Wednesday morning, 13th July, and the 06.25 forecast was again, "Variable, less than 3". They just hate to mention the word "calm". After a good breakfast, though I was running short of food and only had 17p in my pocket, I rowed out of the bay at 08.40 with visibility about ½ mile in misty heat haze. It was dead calm so rowed until 13.30. When the tide turned against us a light breeze sprang up from the West (is it just coincidence that so often the wind strength or direction changes at change of tide?). Finally came ashore out of the ebbing tide about half way between Trevor and Belan Point, at the small promontory of Towyn Maen Aylan at 14.15; 102 miles in 52 hours. A sandy beach with a caravan park behind attracted me for drinking water. Use of the phone left me with 2p, so when I noticed the camp shower block and remembered it was about a week since I'd had a shower, I quickly got towel and soap from Little Mischief and, trying to look like a caravan holiday maker, stole a lovely hot shower.

Left at 15.00 to begin what turned out to be a special kind of sailing. Still hot, but visibility had improved so I could just see the entrance to the Menai Straits at Belan Point 5 miles to the North. Tide was foul, but wind SW 1-2 and it was enough to stem the tide if I kept about 100 yds. off the low-lying shore in around 4 ft. of water; frequently a lot less. Speed was a steady, satisfying 1½ to 2 knots. I sat in my favourite position in these conditions, on the floor facing forward, legs on or under the thwart, back against the aft buoyancy tank cushioned by the buoyancy aid. Jib and mainsail sheets quick release cleated, and tiller under my arm. The mainsail cleat, which I'd carved myself, was new this cruise, and used with a finger cleat fitted under the tiller and a length of shock-cord stretching from gunwale to gunwale and jambing at the finger cleat, I had a self-steering aid which was simple and effective. Used it considerably and often wondered how I'd managed before to sail single-handed without it.

We slowly passed the long beach at Dinas Dinlle using the crowds of bathers as depth gauges, and at 17.00 were approaching the drying sandbanks which form the southern horn to the entrance of the Menai Straits. These banks dry up to 7 ft. and extend for 2 miles offshore to the West, and LW was about 19.30. The sandbank offshore dried first as I slowly approached, but I could see a gap fairly close inshore. As we made our way into the gap the ebb stream became stronger as the banks dried, and the gap became narrower. Wind now aft and sails goose-winged in the light breeze, but eventually Little Mischief was just stopped dead by the ebb stream. I tried rowing but water too shallow to get a grip, so out of the boat and towing with the painter. Sails still goose winged and pushing, we struggled to make the final 400 - 500 yds. into the deep water channel at the Belan Narrows, dragging Little Mischief a few times over sand in 3" to 4" of water. Then a repeat of the earlier pleasant sailing as, still goose-winged, we slowly sailed about 2 yds. off the fairly steep-to shingle beach through the 300 yd. wide Narrows.

The ebb was still flowing out of the Straits at about 2K in the middle as we finally cleared the cannons of Belan Fort at 18.30. It felt good being back in the familiar Menai Straits as we pottered along the mainland shore to the river mouth at Caernarfon at 19.45. Again insufficient water, so while waiting for the flood I stowed sails and went ashore for a stroll round the town. That was a mistake as I passed three fish and chip shops feeling hungry with the appetising smells, but no money! Then up-river and anchored same spot as before, opposite the Castle. It had been a good, satisfying day.

In the morning my radio/alarm woke me as usual for the early forecast and I saw that we'd have to move or dry out with LW at 08.15. So rowed to river mouth and anchored to make breakfast of porridge and Ryvita. In light SW wind with flood stream just started, we set off at 08.40. Pleasantly warm sun in blue sky as we ran, goose winged, NE up the Straits made for perfect sailing. Passed Port Dinorwic, about 32 miles, in the first hour, which gave me an estimate for reaching the Swellies about 10.30. Ideally one should pass through this dangerous area at HW slack - 13.00 - but I knew we could pass quite comfortably an hour before that. I had before made the passage single-handed in both mid-ebb Springs and mid-flood Neaps, but that was in a Wayfarer and they were both hairy rides. It was now a day after top of Spring tides, and 10.30 would be about mid-flood, but decided to chance it as the sooner we got past, the longer the favourable tide on the other side.

I saluted Nelson again and thanked him for his help as we passed at 10.10, and was through the Swellies under the Suspension Bridge at 10.25. Thought at first as we passed under the Brittania Railway Bridge with the new road built on top that the water was going to be fairly quiet. It was not so. I steered the mainland course trying to keep about 3 boat-lengths from the weed covered, rocky bank until opposite the Platters Rocks where the best course is more mid-stream. But at one point the swirling current forced us straight for the bank. No time to use the oars, which were shipped at the ready, but half a boat-length from the rocks the current changed and we were whipped away again. There was a lot of nasty white water boiling over the mid-stream rocks and a series of big breaking standing waves behind the Swellies Rock, which dries 10'. One of the main problems of sailing through this area is that it is rather sheltered, with high, tree-clad banks, so the wind needed for steerage-way becomes fluky and can die away leaving one very much at the mercy of the current.

We passed Beaumaris at 11.20 going well, goose-winged, in that useful SW 1-2, and sailing alongside a yacht that came out from the moorings we chatted with the two men on board for 1½ miles before we turned eastwards across the Laven Sands. Soon after passing Beaumaris the tidal stream became foul as the flood came round Anglesey and up the Straits against us from the NE end, but the wind in the more open area had increased to 2-3. In the main channel the seas had become very choppy, but were smoother over the shallow sands. It was not a good crossing as the wind backed to E, dropping to 1 or less and forcing us more southwards than I wanted, so eventually reached the mainland coast over a mile SW of Llanfairfechan at 14.30. It had been a good day up to that point with excellent sailing, but now with light head wind, weak but foul tide, the rest of the day was a frustrating mixture of tacking and rowing NE along the coast past Llanfairfechan and Penmaenmawr. There I gave up in a flat calm at 17.15. I'd have liked to have gone a further four miles into Deganwy or Conwy, but felt it wasn't necessary in the settled weather conditions to reach their shelter, so anchored in the slight bay at Penmaenmawr.

On Friday morning, 15th July, the forecast was a good W 3-4, veering NW later. I wanted, in fact needed, to get home today if I could. Food supplies were almost gone and then, soon after I'd started cooking my breakfast porridge, my last Gaz cylinder ran out. We were off at 08.30. Wind W 2-3. Blue hazy sky. Visibility less than 3 miles. LW at 09.45, with HW about 15.45 at Greenfield in the Dee Estuary, 31 miles away.

At 09.30 we turned East under Great Ormes Head. Seas were reasonable; nothing vicious as wind was now with the turning tide. At 11.30 my log notes that "Land long out of sight. Wind still W 2-3. Would love a fag!" I'd run out of tobacco yesterday. Shortly afterwards quite a large ship passed 2 mile to North, heading West. Due to sandbanks up to 5 miles offshore, ships usually pass much further North of my course, so thinking we might be a little off course I changed from E to ESE. Then I laughed to myself to think that the Captain of that ship might be changing course to North at the sight of Little Mischief out there.

At 12.45 saw the coastline faintly about 1-2 miles to the South, and recognised the Sun Centre on East side of Rhyl. Then, half way between Prestatyn and the Point of Ayr where we'd turn into the Dee Estuary, that lovely wind died - but only for about ¾ hour while I rowed with the helpful tide. The wind returned from NW 2-3 and we turned into the Dee at 14.30. Goose-winged we headed SE up the 3-4 mile wide estuary and, at 15.45, Little Mischief was turned into the little creek at Greenfield, and 100 yds. upstream, out of the wind, she nosed gently into a grassy bank. Really a beautiful finish both to that day of 31 miles in just over 7 hours, and to my longest cruise of 300 miles in 19 days.

Being on the Dole does have some cruising advantages!