The long haul

On Friday afternoon we set off on the long-anticipated leg of more than a hundred miles which would take 24 hours non-stop, from the commercial port of Grimsby, crossing over the Wash and across the top of Norfolk, down to Lowestoft. Thank heaven we had Lesley's cousin Dave (experienced sailor) as our capable and phlegmatic crew. We worked 2 hour watches with one person on standby and one asleep or resting.

The weather was kind (F1-2) when we left Grimsby, though as soon as we popped out of the harbour entrance, there was a large tanker looming for us to contend with. And there were lots more large vessels to watch for around the Humber channel. However we spotted cheery seals in the water and the sun came out. The forecast was for SW 5 to 6 which should allow us a decent sail for much of the trip.

Dave is sailing

Guess what? the wind was on the nose, East South East, which meant more motor-sailing. But for a short while we decided to forget our passage timetable and just sail. We tacked back and forth in 15 knots of wind (zig-zagged for the non-sailors among you) wasting time and thoroughly enjoying ourselves; SIRENA came to life as the elegant sailing yacht she really is. Then alas we had to put the engine on again. 


    

Moon and a buoy

Eight hours into the trip, late on Midsummer's Day, the wind started building and after midnight Nic decided to put one reef in the main. By one o clock it was blowing F6.  By three, the sky was already beginning to get light and the wind moderated. At 4.30am  Lesley and Dave saw the sun rise in a blaze of pink glory, and two rainbows shone out of a strange mound of cloud which looked like smoke.

Getting seriously rough

Soon after, off the town of Cromer in Norfolk, the wind had built some more and we took the decision to put a second reef in the main. The Met Office forecast for the sea area Humber suggested winds could reach F8, though we were close in to land so it shouldn't reach that extreme where we were going. However even the inshore waters forecast was expecting F7 and spoke of an 'unusually vigorous' depression swinging in. 


By 0900 it was blowing a 'hooly': we had gusts of 32 knots, the top end of Force Seven. We all wore safety lines and gritted our teeth. We couldn't motor straight into the waves, (too big, too steep and too powerful ) so we had to 'tack' back and forth with the engine on, down the very narrow Caister and Yarmouth roads (channels). A giant windfarm workboat called REM Supplier came up behind us in the narrow bit, and we had to contact him on the radio to tell him not to alter course for us, we would tack around him. 

At 1100 we had a leak from our hatch on to charts below - they got rather damp and salty, due to seas crashing on the coachroof, and on us too! Whoever was on the helm, or sitting outside, was constantly drenched by gusts of spray - the salt water got in your eyes and stung terribly but it happened so often you just forgot about it.  By now the windspeed indicator was reading 34 and 35 knots - which is Force 8, and officially a gale.

We knew the harbour entrance at Lowestoft was narrow and in the words of the pilot book, was 'lively' in anything over a Force 4. What could we do but go on- we couldn't go back 100 miles to Grimsby and there was no good refuge nearby. SIRENA ploughed bravely through the giant seas - her long keel making life easier than it would be in a modern boat, though it still felt like being inside a washing machine for the spin cycle.  

Inside the harbour looking out - aaargh

The last few miles were like pulling teeth - by now the strong tide was also against us and we crept slowly from side to side of the shallow channel leading to Lowestoft, buffeted madly. We were wet to the skin, tired out but driven by shedloads of adrenaline. Finally, with Nic on the helm, we saw the twin lighthouses marking the harbour entrance. No-one said 'can we get in, or will we be smashed on the wall?' We just had to think positively. Nic pointed her nose at the middle of the entrance, which had a maelstrom of huge waves breaking across it, raised the engine revs higher than ever before and drove her forward. 'Watch this for steering' he shouted as he wrestled the wheel from lock to lock. Seconds later, we were through in one piece, with Dave and Lesley cheering and clapping an amazing feat of helmsmanship. The long haul was over - 22 hours and 116 nautical miles.