Andrew and Hugh sailed down to Lymington quite slowly in light winds. We berthed on the Dan Bran pontoon, ate and drank aboard. Instead of crossing the channel we decided to sail to Gosport, but rather than going through the Solent, we thought we would sail round the Far Side of the Island.
Now the Solent is full of boats, especially at the weekend. Hundreds and thousands of them - from kayaks to container ships, fishing boats to gin palaces. But the Far Side of the Island is a very different place. Once you are past the Needles and turn hard to port you enter a deserted sea, sailing under a sequence of cliffs of chalk and clay. The random choppiness of the Solent is replaced by the regular predictable swell of the channel. The wind is cleaner, less influenced by land.
We came out of the Lymington River and raised the mainsail. While we were doing that it was quite windy... however as soon as it was up the wind dropped. We drifted slowly down to the Needles.
The Needles
When we turned, the sea was glassy smooth and we had no choice but to motorsail - to make life really simple we put on the autohelm.
Tennyson Down: You can just make out the Celtic style cross which is T's memorial on the top
However as the morning progressed a sea breeze picked up. We agreed to have an early lunch whilst still motorsailing. Once that was finished somewhere west of St Catherine's Point, we turned off the engine, pulled out the staysail, and sailed 120 degrees off the wind on starboard tack. We maintained a decent speed as we ploughed through the overfalls.
St Catherine's Point Lighthouse - at the southerly corner of the IOW
Once south of Ventnor we gybed round to port tack, and were able to stay like that all the way to Bembridge Ledge, passing Shanklin, Sandown and Culver Cliff on the way. Ok, we did see one yacht, and perhaps a fishing vessel or two, but it was pretty sparse. There were a lot of ships anchored between Bembridge and the Nab, waiting for their berth to become available in Southampton or Portsmouth.
Anchored ships east of the IOW
When we turned round the Bembridge Ledge buoy Toucando was at the most easterly point of her sailing career to date. We were able to stay on a port tack as we sailed between Lord Palmersone's Solent forts towards Portsmouth harbour entrance.
A prospect of Portsmouth
We rolled up the staysail and put the motor on enter the harbour as the harbourmaster prefers, and we dropped the main once inside. We were given a comfortable berth on a leeward pontoon by the ever helpful Haslar Marina staff. It was a pleasant wartm summer's evening. We were entertained by the sailing school boats all around us and a party of drunken motorboaters.
Toucando at sunset in Haslar Marina, Gosport
We left Haslar at 0925. Hugh raised the main. We turned and sailed out of the Harbour, noticing HMS Victory and an aircraft carrier with no aircraft as we went.
The Royal Navy: An out of service aircraft carrier and Nelson's flagship
Now, the one part of the passage which did not work from a tidal point of view was that between Portsmouth and the central Solent on Sunday morning. The tide was running from west to east, and the wind was going the same way: never a good arrangement for a gaffer. So although we had some fantastic sailing, wqe weren't realy going the right way (or not fast enough), so we motored from Gilkicker to Lee, before we started to catch the tide flowing northwest up Suthampton Water. We then had some excellent sailing, although slightly nerveracking as we had to pick our way through several races. The water was really crowded as it is every summer Sunday morning. We were back on Toucando's berth by ten to five... in good enough time for Hugh to catch the 1730 train back home.
Whilst a couple off long channel passages would have been good, not to mention the shopping opportunities in Carrefour and an evening meal in a French restaurant, it was very pleasant to be able to sail in local waters, including the much neglected Far Side of the Island. Thanks to Hugh for all his help.
Postscript: the engine worked fine.
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