16th July to 24th September 2024

In summertime Britain and my home country of England are delightful. My home county of Devon is green and gorgeous and Exeter, my home city, is lively and wonderful. My little road and house are off the scale – heavenly. 

Picking blackberries, seeing family and friends, travelling hither and thither with excellent public transport, BBC, serene rolling green hills, libraries, freedom to move, to speak, to play, and a comfy bed that is warm and stable. All these everyday privileges of living in Britain are not to be sneezed at. Nearly two months of land dwelling life has passed very quickly. I’ve enjoyed the time at home.

So, this time more than on previous departures, I was in two minds about sailing away in Henrietta. Especially as I write this, two days out and half way across the Bay of Biscay, Henrietta rolling wildly, with every muscle in my body aching, several new bruises and feeling exhausted and queasy. (The life of the ocean sailor isn’t all rosey sunsets and oneness with nature, you know.)

Anyhow, I left and sailed away. There were many days of chronic indecision beforehand. But, holding to the belief that it’s usually better to make mistakes than have regrets, I took off. The possible mistake of leaving home was, I reckoned, probably better than a regret at not leaving home. But I’m still a little sad to have left.

Given the fickle nature of early autumn weather in Bay of Biscay and a reasonable forecast, I sailed straight out of Henrietta’s temporary mooring place on Exeter Canal, and out to sea, Devon’s coastline bringing a tear to my eye as it faded behind me into palest grey invisibility. Ah, what am I doing?

Then a lone dolphin appears. He seems to recognise my doleful mood and playfully dives alongside before leaping excitedly out of the water ahead of the bow. “Cheer up old fella’, life’s good”, he said, before swimming off to find his mates. He’d come to raise my spirits. He did.

I’m full of good memories of this brief trip home. Paris, whistle stop Eurostar to see Armelle (first time since Borneo) and tiny bit of Olympic excitement; Sheffield and Peak District to see eldest son, Johnny and Roz; younger sons Tom and George; brother, sister, cousins, friends. And then there’s good fresh food, hot showers, country walks, radio and telly, plentiful books. The list goes on. You can understand why, much as I love life at sea, I was a bit sorry to head off over the horizon. 

….but, this morning two days later, we’re anchored in Ria Camarinas in Northern Spain and it’s calm, beautiful and oh so peaceful. Mist rises from nearby forest, distant wind turbines stand still and lifeless, and nearby little fishing boats harvest mussels and small silvery fish. Cup of tea in the cockpit after a good sleep with such a panorama to wake up to, reminds me of the marvellous aspects of sailing life.

Here are a few more photos of sons and cousins, and odds and ends…