Back in the beginning of February when it was wet, cold, windy and a bit more cold I was fortunate enough to jump aboard one of our Weekend Channel Hops. Setting off from Gosport we headed Southwards under the shimmering lights of the Spinnaker Tower. We were a skeleton crew of just 3 with a Yachtmaster trainee, an experienced Instructor and a hapless dinghy sailor drafted from the office and promoted to junior cabin boy, I believe ‘Deckhand’ is the more PC term.
Sailing past the Isle of Wight
After rounding the infamous Bembridge Point, a scary shallow piece of rock that inconveniently juts out from the right hand side of the Isle of Wight, and on past the Princessa navigation mark we were in open water – next stop France. I took first watch whilst the others went below for some sleep. As this was my first Channel Crossing on a yacht and as it was in the dark I am big enough to admit I was out of my comfort zone. Thankfully the instructor was always close to hand which all on board found reassuring. I decided that the best thing to do was to get across as quickly as possible. I increased to full sail and Talulah heeled over and began to surge forwards towards Cherbourg at a much brisker pace. Thankfully my watch ended just before the Shipping Channels and I had a jolly good sleep in the saloon, cosy in my sleeping bag.
I was next on watch just before dusk and with only the excitement of one tanker to steer clear of we followed a ferry into Cherbourg. The entrance to the marina is guarded by the imposing ex-French Navy Nuclear Submarine Le Terrrible which sits proudly before the Maritime museum housed in the old port railway terminus, a stunning building nestled amongst cranes and warehouses. After a successful crossing in very good time and washing up duties completed I was granted shore leave and hopped off the market. Fishmongers and grocers had stalls full of local produce and harvest and the locals were queuing around the block in the rain, with the supermarket down the street virtually abandoned, a polar opposite of us Brits I pondered.
After victualing up on as many dangerously smelly cheeses I could, well wrapped to avoid upsetting my superiors on board I made my way back to the boat. After high tea there was chance to rest and recuperate. We ventured ashore to a fabulous local restaurant where I enjoyed snails for starter and some fantastic fish for main course. Pudding was delicious too.
Cross channel sailing with First Class
The return – dodging shipping and the Excise
We made our way back to the boat and began our hop back to Blighty. This time my watch did include the Shipping Lanes which is very exciting at night and at least kept me occupied. After being relieved I had another good kip in the saloon and woke up as we rounded the Needles on Sunday morning. We were half way from the Needles to Cowes when I noticed the dark silhouette of some sort of military type ship. Too small for Navy, perhaps Fisheries Protection? Worse still it was Customs, they’d either caught a whiff of my smelly contraband or the Frenchies had tipped them off in retaliation for eating all their snails. We were boarded by a couple of burly Excise men and the ship was searched. Fortunately, after a bit of sniffing, my smelly contraband was deemed importable for use at home – however I was warned the quantity was bordering on suspicious.
We stopped in Cowes for a well-deserved full breakfast and sailed onwards home to Gosport passing some silly soldiers trying to land and invade Stokes Bay – or perhaps they were training for a secret Cheese raid on the Frenchies after our successful reconnaissance mission?
by Mitch Webb
