Juggler's Logbook

"Home in time for tea... one day"

"Juggler" is a Halcyon 23 sailing boat. The following is a logbook of her summer cruise from Bristol to somewhere West.

The log is currently (August, 2000) updated daily using a Psion series 5 handheld computer and an Ericsson SH888 mobile phone which has an infra-red modem.

I spent yesterday getting ready for the sea again. I felt the facilities of Swansea Marina wrapping me a little too closely. It is surrounded by high flats, as are most new marina developments. This mixture of leisure and lifestyle planning makes for a bland synthetic atmosphere. There are no conversations going on across balconies or wood smoke emerging from rotting live-aboard boats. There are people strolling around, but they are voyeuristic, cynical, commenting on the bland synthetic atmosphere and how no-one appears to be at home.

I sat on the terrace of a cafe' overlooking the marina, holidaymakers, stragglers from the beech, wandered past in search of adventure, or just getting away from the sand and the town centre which reminds them so much of home. Being intimidated by on one hand the estate agents whose window was crowded with marina dwellings at extortionate prices, and on the other hand by the yacht brokerage whose window was crowded with expensive yachts. I overheard comments such as, "It's like Monte Carlo!" (in a Welsh accent).

I paid my £30 bill which was made up of two nights mooring, a licence for the River Tawe, locking fees, and, electricity connection.

I spent nearly £20 on petrol, £15 in Boots on batteries and film, £13 in Tesco's on food, and, £10 on other bits such as coffee, snacks, and, battery terminals.

I also bought a navigation chart in a chandlery costing £13.50.

The above adds up to a significant expenditure and input into Swansea's economy, £100 over two days. At least that's the way I see it!

I wonder how much more a larger boat would cost? I do consider the potential in sailing and living in a 30 footer rather than juggler's diminutive 23 feet. I balk at the costs though, say, of a new mainsail. £350 on Juggler £600 on a 30 footer. Mooring fees would be a third extra, the eight or so pounds per night I am used too would rise to 12 or 15 pounds.

I suppose the benefits would be significant too, though, such as being able to buy and store food brought on special offers. Having a diesel engine which costs far less than an outboard to run and moves the boat more reliably and effectively (I'm talking myself into that one for sure). Batteries would keep charged up and electrical equipment would be more useful. Juggler's batteries are almost permanently flat, with just enough to run he navigation lights, radio and GPS, charge the mobile phone and occasional marine VHF transmissions.

I have back ups in the form of torch, AA batteries for GPS and hurricane lamp for navigation light in emergency. I wonder whether a larger boat would make me happier?

Once the extra speed and range had been incorporated into my expectations, I'd be wondering upon 100 mile passages instead of 25 mile ones. I'd be working out routes using 5 knots as the average speed instead of Juggler's 3.5 knots. So what difference would it make when a bigger boat would have bigger problems?

I think it would feel glorious to crash along at 7 knots in a 30 footer! Then when the wind heads you and the tide is foul and it's dusk, the engine would be fired up and the miles eaten up with mechanical efficiency.

One of the common experiences aboard Juggler is missing the last 5 or 6 miles of fair tide. Of course, 5 or 6 miles against a 2 knot flow can take hours. If a headwind is added to the equation, well you're looking at being out all night! This is not a pleasant situation and is the reason that the yachts out there cruising use their diesels at the strategic moment that gets them home for tea.

I'd like to be in for tea, too!

Half way across the Bristol Channel I phoned Jo, my sister, she was in Sainsbury's in Plymouth! I enthused about being in 10 foot swells and looking at the 1000 foot Devon cliffs. I asked if Jo could hear the swooshing noises of a cruiser in full sail, but she declared it to be too noisy in Sainsbury's to get that. I resigned myself to reality (?, Sainsbury's is more real than the sea?). Jo and family were holidaying in South Cornwall. Great, they could meet me at Ilfracombe, I imagined waving to Becky and Camilla on the pier as I arrived.

The mobile phone lost contact in the middle of the journey so we arranged it all later, they are to call in Saturday, wonderful.

I was heading for Tenby when I set out this morning at 1100 hrs BST. A Westerly wind was dead against me and the distance of 36 miles would have taken around 15 hours. After seeing a dolphin just off the Mixon Shoal near the Gower Peninsular, I realised it would be much easier to go to Ilfracombe. 25 miles and across rather than against the wind.

It was then I felt the pleasure of cruising for its own sake, not struggling against the elements. An e-mail I received from my dear friend Amanda in Bristol, urged me to "drift, drink wine, relax" and "don't turn it into an endurance test". I was reminded of Falmouth in Cornwall when another dear friend, Riaz, came sailing. We drank wine, drifted, drank more wine, ate rollmops, drifted, drank even more wine...

Yes, I should remember that to relax is an art.

I have, therefore, let the mad scheme of sailing to Liverpool slip astern in a lazy wake, instead I shall enjoy my summer cruise as just that. Why, I could even ask Dave down for a sail. I had to disappoint him just before I set out from Bristol, he wanted to join me straight away, but I had other plans. After 3 years in Bristol Harbour without going out to sea (I put all my efforts into academic work) I wanted to test myself and boat without distraction, or unnecessary risk to others.

I now feel myself to be a better sailor than in previous years. I cannot put my finger on what is different about me or the boat. There is a clarity to both, I feel, I don't put up with quite so much, I sort it out. A bit more "Home in time for tea" attitude about the boat and myself, I suppose.