At least once a year I take the chance to do some sailing in the sun; instructing at a sailing school every weekend in England does this to you!

This year, on a mad impulse, I decided to have a heavy-duty Wayfarer built at Moores and cruise along the west European coastline to Gibraltar.

After several meetings and discussions we agreed on the formula for the boat: A ‘mark one-and-a-half’ modified Wayfarer. Steel centreboard and rudder, for stability; forward bulkhead for storage; square-cut mast for extra buoyancy. Apart from this, virtually a standard Wayfarer.

The sails consisted of two mainsails (one cut-down for heavy weather), both rigged for slab reefing; one multi-purpose genoa (one third larger than the normal genoa); a working jib and a storm jib. Alternative power was by a Tomos 4.8 hp air-cooled engine, oars and paddles. The preparations and trials took about five months; they weren’t hassle free and I could write a book with the problems encountered.

We eventually set off at the end of June for Omonville. Accompanying us we had Ian Brotherton in his Fulmar Jimpa. My first crew member was Paul Newman (no — not that one!) who, like the members to follow, was from my sailing club. The only exception was a young chap recommended by Dick Notley.

There was no wind when we left, and within a hour we were well wrapped up in fog. After motoring for 30 miles we went aboard Jimpa for a hot supper. The Wayfarer, Shady Deals of Putney, was tied up alongside. After a while the sea became a little choppy and the Wayfarer was swamped. We bailed her out in 20 mins, but my VHF radio was knocked out.

We arrived outside Omonville at 01.30 and anchored. We could hear the fog-horn on the lighthouse, but couldn’t see it. Later, after the fog cleared, we motored into the harbour which was about 100 metres away.

For the next two weeks we had glorious weather and interesting sailing. The North Brittany coast is very rocky and makes navigation enjoyable. Unfortunately, having to wear glasses, the spray dodger which hadn’t arrived on time would have made life a little easier. Once again Dick Notley came to the rescue and I had the dodger for the final part of the voyage.

Paul was leaving from Paimpol, and as I had five days to wait before Donald Haydon joined me, I decided to go home with Paul. Fresh laundry and my bed appealed to me. Also I had brought a lot of unessential things such as a cooker (in France!), utensils and clothing, which I took back.

Don and I returned via St Malo. The weather had broken: we now had strong wind and rain. That night was my first in the tent under rain and it leaked like a sieve! We got soaked through, and had no sleep whatsoever. We spent the next day in the launderette drying out our clothes and bedding, and as it hadn’t stopped raining, booked into a hotel for the night.

The storm abated overnight and we left early next morning: there isn’t much choice here as the lock is only open an hour either side of HW. At first we had a good breeze, but this gradually built up, as did the swell. The rate of tide was more than indicated and we found ourselves swept out a lot further than we should have been. It took us a couple of hours of uncomfortable sailing to reach land, and we ended up covering 15 miles for the actual 35 sailed.

Don got the worst of the weather; we were continually drying out and hotelling it. This turned out to be an expensive time, but we had some great meals.

We had other exciting landfalls: entering Le Conquet through the inner channel, surfing at 9½ knots, and coming into Ile de Batz because it seemed pleasanter than Roscoff across the bay.

Paul and Sue got the tail of the bad weather. They arrived in Morgat on the same day that Don left. It only took them 36 hours from Portsmouth!! Don went back the same way. Fortunately for them the weather was too bad to go out the following day, so they had a relaxing break — if you could call Morgat relaxing at that time. It was hosting some international dinghy championship and was packed to bursting point.

No, we didn’t all sleep in the Wayfarer: they brought their own tent. By now I was using a slit-open emergency bag to keep the water away from me in the tent, but they brought some spray seal with them. Guess what! I didn’t need to use the tent in the rain after that!

Our first day’s sail turned out to be as disastrous as the two previous ones. We left Morgat 45 minutes late because I had to tighten the outboard bracket nuts after discovering a little water in the stern locker. They were all loose, and one was only finger tight. Then, because of the race, we were diverted by the power-crazy marshals, although we were well away from the course. This delayed us a further 45 mins, which meant we arrived half an hour before the turn of the tide at Point de Raz, instead of the 2 hours I’d planned for. The horrific details given by the pilot are correct. There was a f4 NW wind, with a moderate swell, pushing us nicely in the right direction, so we carried on. Wrong! We were half way through when the tide turned; the sea suddenly became very confused and we were being thrown around amongst 20’ waves. How we didn’t capsize I’ll never know, but we all learnt to pray again, and the Buddhist charm Roy Letton gave me was working overtime.

Eventually we fought our way back out and ran for shelter in a little cove about a mile away. There was a friendly looking sandy beach in the corner, with what looked like a smart hotel behind it; we could do with a beer or two. As we neared the beach we saw the breakers and tried to tack, but Shady Deals would come beam-on to the surf and stop, then the next wave would heel us over and we’d ship a bucketful of water. As the beach and bathers loomed closer I was able to get the engine going and, with full revs, we got away.

Don’t stop reading! There’s more!

Behind some rocks there were some moored fishing boats. One of the fishermen pointed out a spare buoy we could use. The steps leading down the rocks to the tender lines were full of holidaymakers taking photographs. Maybe word had got around about our attempt to round the Raz! So here we were, drying out and having a late lunch when this big, black shape appeared directly in front of me. That was all I needed today — sharks! Fortunately it turned out to be the resident dolphin, ‘Jean Louise’, a big tourist attraction for ten years.

We were fog-bound here for two days, and when we finally left, ‘Jean Louise’ guided us to our transit point.

Once through the Raz we were escorted for an hour by a school of porpoises; I wonder if the dolphin asked them to keep an eye on us?

At long last we were getting into warmer climes; and on Paul and Sue’s last sail with me we actually didn’t need our oilies. They had one whole day of sunbathing and left from Quiberon.

I was now joined by John McCallum, a school leaver who’d taken a year off before going to university; also, he’d not sailed before!

I was dreading the first day’s sail (sailor’s superstition maybe?), which was the second day after John’s arrival. I’d spent the first day going through the essential theory, ie boat parts, capsize drill, etc. Quiberon

John was a very quick learner and by the time we reached Santander he was able to join a yacht as a very competent crew-member. Our sails were very pleasant; now in shorts, and with plenty of sunshine, we even enjoyed the occasional hairy bits. One day we did over 50 miles; on another we met Robin and Maggie Cooter cruising in their Wayfarer. Everything was going great — until we arrived at La Rochelle.

Decision time! The next anchorage was Arcachon, 100 miles away. It could only be entered at HW in moderate conditions; the next port thereafter was Capbreton, with a similarly bad reputation and a further 70 miles on. Could I really hope to do this in a Wayfarer, in the Bay of Biscay, with a novice crew?

We decided first to see if any yacht was going in this direction who would accompany us. Golden Pearl of Bristol was heading straight for Santander and was short-crewed as the skipper’s wife was pregnant and not feeling too bright. It was arranged, therefore, that we would help to crew for a tow to Spain.

We did the first few hours until sunset under our own power, and also the last part into Santander. The trip took two days and was a mixture of calms and f6-7s. During the latter I had to climb aboard Shady Deals to free the tow-rope from where it had caught the centreboard — this left any fairground ride standing!

Once in Spain I had imagined it would be plain sailing, but there were yachts in Santander who had been trying to get out for five or six days. At this rate it would take a couple of months just to get past the north coast! Because of the continuous series of lows we’d had this summer, there was a predominance of heavy swells at the entrances to the harbours when the wind was in the NW sector. W to SW was on the nose, and anything from south brought the fog and wind gusts down from the mountains. So NE winds were in, but only until early afternoon, because the ‘sea breeze’ was anything up to f8!

Despite these odds, after we’d been in Santander a couple of days the forecast for the next day was NE 3-4, so we decided to set off early next morning. On getting up the breeze was NE; by 5.30 am we had the sails up and were about to cast off when, suddenly, the wind shifted to the south, and within 5 minutes visibility was down to ten metres.

This was when I decided to call it a day.

Would I do it again? No — next time it will be in a cruiser, possibly acting as a mother ship to one or more dinghies. Watch this space for further news.

The full details (thrills and spills) of Shady Deals’ voyage will be found in the log, available from the Wayfarer Association Library.

Thanks aren’t enough to all those who helped and gave their time to this project; it wouldn’t have been possible without you… thank you!