Time to Go

I learned that another Jester Challenger had been towed in by the RNLI, whilst returning from Baltimore.  He had hove to off the Scillies in very strong winds, and come morning put out a call to which the RNLI responded.  He told me by email that he felt he had let the Challenger side down, which was rubbish of course.  He had behaved sensibly and safely and planned to continue on his way again after resting.

About the same time he was rescued, it was blowing a full gale here in Crosshaven and Pippin strained against her warps as the attendant struggled to attach a notice to a dockside cleat next to Pippin.  This notice informed me to move before Sunday evening.

I told him I had read it, which didn’t sink in and then suggested it would probably get whipped away by the wind in 5 minutes anyway.  This did, though he looked upset at failing in his mission so I reassured him that there would be an empty space here come the time – decision made.

Crosshaven

If my situation remained as is it was then, I was on the right side of safe to go.  To be sure, I hoisted the main sail and did those things I normally do to set sail before snugging Pippin down once more. Touch wood, it was ok.

Crosshaven Village (3)

Crosshaven is the centre of nowhere, famous for nothing but the yacht club a cluster of pubs, a café and a mini market.  Crows rule the roost literally, though the Herons come and go in their own way undisturbed by lesser fry.  Its a gentle mile walk which served as a pleasant daily distraction from sitting out of the weather aboard Pippin.  Angie reckons I travel with ‘iffy’ weather in my knapsack and I sometimes think she might just be right.

Crosshaven Village (5)

Crosshaven Village (4)

Crosshaven (3)

Sean, who owns the red Francis 34 Pilothouse, pooped in for a chat.  He swooped around a breathless array of subjects that took me to Saudi Arabia and back, but I was taken particularly by his granny’s certain cure for arthritis.  Take one bottle of gin, add lots of blueberries (or other preferred fruit), leave it to ferment nicely, then remove fruit.  The fruit is then added to breakfast porridge – works every time, apparently.

Sean was planning to head West early next morning, a few hours before me and we wished each other well.  I hope the next post will be from Guernsey, but there are many miles and hours between here and there – you never know.

 

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By ajay290

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