Helen and I turned up on the Friday afternoon with our boat Baggywrinkle together with Bridget, and a friend of ours called Rachel Ross. We had a lovely row over to the pub at Dittisham in the evening sun. Do you remember how the sunny days of spring went on for months? Then the south-west region went a-rallying, and the weather broke with a bang. By Saturday afternoon vicious rain squalls were sweeping across the Dart valley, blotting out the wooded hills and comely villages that surround this attractive estuary.

We had been joined by two other boats, Alan Stapleton’s Roamer Tai Tai, and the Morley family’s Mirror. But the rain poured down like it does in horror movies. High above the water perched a creepy gothic house — the sort the undead inhabit. It turned out to be a youth hostel. Everybody dived into it, and left me to sleep aboard alone. I spent two disturbed nights shearing about, while Baggywrinkle dragged her anchor across the estuary. In view of the taxing conditions, the Morley’s Mirror never moved from its roof rack. On Sunday though, the whole hoard of them — Andrew, Sue, Josephine, Thomas, Benedict and Eloise — joined Alan in the capacious cockpit of his Roamer and went out to sea! They say it was very exciting. I can well believe it!

Baggywrinkle had dashed about the estuary on the Saturday, but on Sunday morning she had unaccountably dried out on the mud, so the crew spent the day in the tea shops of Dartmouth and Kingswear, which they said was quite exciting enough, thank you.

It was an odd rally, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

Plymouth to Bigbury Bay Passage 31st May - 1st June

Stan Dean’s Rebell and my Tideway Baggywrinkle spent the Friday night anchored within sight of each other in Millbrook Lake. Would anyone else turn up? Saturday dawned nice and sunny but it was already blowing strongly from the east and the forecast was for worse. We rendezvoused in the Mayflower Marina at the mouth of the Tamar. The scent of frying bacon led us to a purposeful little vessel called Black Jack David, where Andrew Morley and Colin Gaunt were cooking a huge late breakfast, which they said they richly deserved after having sailed all the way down from Cargreen that morning. By the time the last rasher was consumed, Aidan de Ia Mare had arrived in his Tideway Diana, and we were four.

There was little keenness to venture out along the coast, against a forecast 6-7, so the fleet fled up the St Germains River. All four boats proved to be evenly matched, and we stormed the 10 miles within a few boat lengths of each other, arriving in time to gatecrash the St Germains Yacht Club barbecue. The two cabin craft anchored in deep water in the middle of the creek, while Aidan and I crept away into the shallows, so that our boom tents would be sheltered from the wind. We had to be off early the next morning to catch the tide. The bigger craft motored out, but Aidan and I had a very wet sail against the rising wind — weren’t we glad we hadn’t gone out to sea! It was a furious beat out into the Hamoaze, reefed right down in what must have been gusting well over 6.

Fal Camping Week 5th - 12th July

Present: Ron & Sheila Howell, Harry & Janet Turner Lune Pilot Colin Bell Mirror Richard Morris & Eric Scholes Gem Glen 14 Keith Jones Kaipara WW Potter George Saffray Blue Bonnet Leader Colin Cobill Gull Albert & Joyce Hattersley Spirit Bass Boat Brian McClellan Water Mouse WW Potter John & Babs Deacon Jady Lane Andy Morley & Andy Black Jack David Roger Barnes & Helen Baggywrinkle Andy & Ruth de la Mare Diane Tideway

and apologies to anyone missed out.

After the appalling weather of June we had a useful mixture of brilliant sunshine, clouds and wind.

Most of us, having arrived on the Sunday morning sailed across to the Pandora Inn at Restronguet for the customary beer, lunch and discussion of the prospects for the week. This was inconclusive; the relaxed atmosphere seemed to favour more informal arrangements in which meetings with other members became a pleasant coincidence.

That evening Kaipara and Spirit went up to Ruan Lanihorne for the night, lying as I understand it, at odd angles in the mud off the old quay.

The Andys appeared in Black Jack David on Monday evening after a quick epoxy repair to their boat, damaged due to starting off from home without properly hitching the trailer to the car (see Bulletin 150 ‘My Blood Ran Cold’ by Peter Bick). They had a double kayak as a tender and were the only crew to live aboard their boat for the week: not counting myself living aboard my 35 foot tender Windrift — not the best arrangement as I missed the chatting time at the campsite.

On Tuesday after early morning fog, there was a consensus to try for Portscatho in spite of a light north’westerly and a prospect of an opposing sea breeze to cancel it out. That was indeed what happened and the visitors discovered some of the peculiarities of the winds here, learning not to go out to sea in such conditions, and that it is possible to find a breeze by rock-dodging along the cliffs. The WW Potters went the furthest, but even they did not get there, while the rest of us lunched at sea or on the beach at Molunan just inside the lighthouse. Then we gently returned to St Just.

On Wednesday we did indeed cruise to cruise in company to Helford. A lovely easterly breeze bowled us down the harbour in fine style but once at sea the wind dropped to leave us floundering in an annoying slop. We eventually blew into the shelter of Bosahan Cove inside the entrance. Here it became quite crowded with DCA boats; with much badinage and occasional accompaniment by Albert on the harmonica.

The Potters and the Andys decided to stay overnight and dispersed to their billets after a visit to Glendurgan gardens, while the rest of us headed slowly back to Falmouth. But for the outboard motors sported by Spirit and Gem, for which we thank you, those of us who relied on sail would have had a long pull in the still sloppy sea. George showed us what a performance cruising dinghy could do by taking the first of the evening breeze and sailing Blue Bonnet away from the outboards and arriving at St Just well ahead of the rest of us.

The next day it was still easterly and as usual a big sea had built up, which is not good for the passage back from Helford to Falmouth, as the Potters found. Indeed it seems to have been quite an adventure and not just due to the rough seas, but it is a testimonial to their ability in a seaway. By the time Black Jack David followed later there was still a lot of sea but too little wind so just as uncomfortable.

The traditional ‘end of term’ supper took place at the King’s Head at Ruan Lanihorne on Thursday evening, preceded by a very nice reception by John and Babs Deacon at their new tent at the campsite. The next day a slightly reduced company sailed up to Tolvern for a cream tea and final get together before further dispersal took place. Roger Barnes finally escaped from work to join us for what remained of the week.