A Wife on the Ocean Wave
Crossing the bar at Cardigan is always something of an experience even in benign conditions. You surf out on waves breaking on the beach at Poppit and then bear right aiming at the rocks at the foot of the Cliff Hotel. Sometimes you can have conversations with your neighbour fishing off the same rocks as you pass. Once you’re out there’s nothing but sea and even on the calmest days the waters lurch and roll with the last of the Atlantic swell. In bad conditions there’s nowhere safe to run except Fishguard or Holyhead.
Today we’re off to Fishguard, it takes three hours motoring, because there’s no wind. We spend a blissful afternoon in the rare sunshine before watching the sun bleach to apricot and the amethyst clouds darken to pewter. Lights twinkle in Goodwick and we raise a glass of malt whisky to a good day.
The next morning we motor to Cwm yr Eglwys, a sheltered bay, where we drop the anchor and settle down for another peaceful day in the sun. Peaceful that is until two yachts from Cardigan appear and we get a visit from groovy old retired vicar, Godfrey. Godfrey’s one of the breed of what we call ‘Bloody Buggering Old Boys’ a term coined when the girls, Tom and I were berthed next to a crew of them in Cherbourg and had to listen to them shouting ‘Bloody this’ or ‘Bugger that’ deep into the night.
Actually, I’ve got a lot of time for Godfrey who seems to get roped in to conduct funerals for most of his chums. Tom and I were present when Godfrey conducted the funeral for our yacht club’s founding member, Ian, a long-term sailing friend of Godfrey’s. He must have been hurting terribly, yet his concern was all for others. Today, Godfrey doesn’t stay because he has plans for a light lunch on another boat but before he leaves he gives us news of another club member, Colin who is sailing round Britain. ‘He’s got as far as Scotland,’ Godfrey tells us, ‘simply by turning left and left again. He’ll probably write a little book about it.’
Next morning we’re up at six to catch the tide home. Although I don’t ‘do’ early even I can appreciate the beautiful pale lemon dawn. There are no other vessels in sight but we are visited by a harbour porpoise riding alongside the boat. A pair of gannets dive into the sea, straight as arrows, oystercatchers ‘kipkip’ as they pass and a gathering of Manx shearwaters cloud the surface of the water only scattering at the last moment. It’s times like this that make sailing worthwhile.
The Captain Prepares to Repel Boarders
Cardiff Half Marathon Training
Runner’s World SmartCoach Programme Week 6 = 18 slightly nervous miles since the dog bite. A 2 mile deficit (lost at sea). Backside on the mend. Rogue dog caged in with new fencing. Also given quite a scare by yet another JRT on the lonely farm where Lily once suggested they might keep me and turn me into sausages if they saw me. Plenty to keep me on my toes then.