Juggler's Logbook

"Weaving a web of sailing and writing"

"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.

Last night I looked out over Carmarthen Bay, past Caldy Island on the right (south), around Dyfed on the left (North). Worms Head is just visible 15 miles to the East. Yesterday I sailed within 6 miles of Worms Head and took a photograph of a ship in as we passed.

A truly "far away place" (as far as difference to "home" goes) Tenby is a lovely harbour to arrive at on Juggler. The restaurants appear to be very cosy and atmospheric, I could not find a chip shop at all last night! It's not exclusive in the way that Le Touquet is (Paris's expensive seaside resort). Tenby has pleasant shops selling slightly unusual gifts, mixed with "Boots", "Woolworth's" and "Superdrug". The slightly unusual gifts are handmade ornaments, cloths, and paintings. There are gift shops, but no "favourite tunes" blaring out of fibre-glass cartoon character rides, or chip emporiums, as in Ilfracombe.

When asked "where have you come from?", I replied, several times, "Istanbul... oh, hang on, Ilfracombe".
All this time on my own, combined with the big Bristol Channel waves, makes me trip over my words sometimes.

I lost my first night enchantment as I passed through the town walls and found streets, with cars and traffic crossings. The backs of hotels hummed and smelt of air-conditioners. White delivery vans pushed up kerbs, buses swept by.The first nights charm at not finding a fish "n" chip shop also popped; there are dozens.
I found a laundry, for my damp salty clothes and quilt cover. There was also a shop selling fine stainless steel saucepans, in a sale, reduced from £50 to £30. I've had one for years, it has a solid base and is excellent in use. The one I would like to replace is a heavy cast iron one which tries to break ones wrist. After returning to have a serious look, I mean £30 is a lot of money for cooking utensils, I liked it less. The handle was hollow and impossible to clean, imagine those bits of rice building up inside it! I also thought I can get a saucepan anytime I like if I'm willing to pay £30, even if this one is reduced by a third. On my way out of the shop the man on the till stared at me in a way that made me feel more like an object, rather than a person, so, finally I was glad not to have made a purchase. Consuming is such a precarious act, if one wishes to end up feeling good too.

I regained my enchantment with Tenby as I stood on the high cliffs overlooking South Beach. It is very attractive and I have been unable to find a postcard which touches on the sight of Tenby harbour and Carmarthen Bay. This is one of my favourite aspects of travelling; discovering the character of places I'd otherwise never make it to. Wales is a beautiful region, undoubtedly, a true British holiday resort! Of course I know it is relatively autonomous from England, but Wales has everything I expect in a holiday resort. The fact is though I am far from being the kind of person who would come to Tenby for their holidays...but, Clarissa, you ARE on holiday in Tenby! Oh am I really, you mean I'm not an adventurer taking rest before the next bold leg of my voyage? No, Clarissa, you are on holiday, just like everyone else, you may like roughing it a bit by sleeping in a boat tied to the harbour wall, but essentially you are a tourist.
Hmmm...but surely this writing as I travel is radically different and so sets me apart from the rest, doesn't it? And, I sailed myself through ten foot swells the 36 miles from Ilfracombe, I mean that is WILD! Isn't it?
OK, Clarissa, yes that is "wild", but what is it that makes you want to risk your home and well-being in this way? Why don't you spend a week in a B & B and travel by train?
Good question, actually I'd love to do that sort of thing, it'd be so laid back, a real break from the ongoing struggle to succeed. To tell you the truth, I've never really known how to go about that sort of holiday, how to know whether I'd like a place before I'd been there and how on earth I would fill the time in a B &B, with no passage plans to chew my lips over and no petrol to walk a mile into town to buy. Also, I always thought I'd go on proper holidays when I grew up, I'm still playing at holidays. It's easy to forget that I am nearly 40 years old. The "family" is not an institution which I have any inclination towards as a way of organising my life. I hear so many moans and people snapping at each other, people who are on holiday, that I get driven further and further into my selfish existence.
The "family" is promoted by society as the normal and superior way to arrange ones affairs. I am not particularly attracted to men as potential partners (except occasionally after indulging in a little too much whisky), and I hardly consider myself to be a potential mother to demanding kids. These days there are such pressures to conform as far as bringing up children goes, what with trainers and Nintendos, selecting the best schools and protecting them from media brainwashing, I don't relish the thought of being a part of it all. I am repelled by the whole paradigm of family life. My sister, Jo, seems to manage well, and, other people I know have wonderful offspring, I am, I suppose, on a different path that's all.

My washing will be nearly dry by now
More than my washings dry...I'm sitting in Milford Haven having sailed around the firing ranges of Penally, Manorbier and Castlemartin. The thirty miles became twenty four as I kept within a a mile or three of the cliffs, rather than sticking to my planned route around the St Gowan Shoals. This patch of sea is three miles offshore and marked by a South Cardinal buoy. In calm weather the passage inshore of the overfalls and broken water warned of on the chart is placid, no more than a splash in the eye from a little wave.
Overfalls are disturbed bits of sea, often dangerous to vessels, caused by the movement of the tide over an irregular and shallow seabed. They exist at headlands and straits, where the tide flows quickly. Waves become steep and high, at the same time they have no particular direction, welling up and flopping down everywhere. The boat can be turned around or plunged into a trough in a violent way. It is best to avoid overfalls.
There is usually a passage inshore of a patch of rough water, often very close to the shore. One danger of taking such short cuts is engine failure, risking being swept out into the maelstrom! These days there are jet powered super speedboats, modelled on lifeboats, which take tourists on "white water experiences". There was one of these craft operating out of Ilfracombe. Around eight passengers sit huddled in expensive safety gear, while the helmsman demonstrates a 360° turn on the spot. They then head out of the harbour at ever increasing revs until all one hears is a deep growl from somewhere out there. Twenty minutes later the rigid inflatable boat returns with everyone breathing a sigh of relief that it is over. This kind of ride makes the sea into a dangerous wilderness that is to be treated like an alien world by venturing into it only with huge engines and macho gear.
I wonder when I'm going to get a bigger engine and more sturdy gear? There is a chandler (boat bit shop) nearby. I shall be eyeing up all sorts of gadgets in there, Ilfracombe and Tenby didn't have such a shop, which left me feeling like a Herring Gull without a chip!

Tenby is the complete holiday solution! It has everything a holiday could have, wide sandy beaches, a quaint stone harbour, pretty cafe's in courtyards, nostalgic restaurants with atmospheric decor (nostalgic for rural cosy times??!!). The views over Carmarthen Bay are splendid. The shops have a variety of distracting gifts, better than those in Ilfracombe, and, when one is bored with novelties there is Boots and W.H.Smiths to get your feet back on the ground in. Browsing the magazine shelfs in Smiths is a major leisure resource in contemporary towns and cities.

I just wish everyone else wasn't so wrapped up in careers and families, that they could come and soak up some of the summer breeze and cliff-top gaze over the sea with me. I would like another pair of eyes to be annointed with this occasional bliss.

I have reached my turning point, the apex of my journey. From here I can only head back Eastwards up the ever narrowing Bristol Channel. Here I'm closer to Rosslare in Ireland than Padstow in Cornwall (58 n miles and 67 n miles respectively). How exciting to sail over to Ireland. I have other plans, the Lammas re-union in Ilkley is at the end of the coming week, I have to get there and be in bass player mode.
To go off cruising to Ireland would be lovely, but it will soon be September and Juggler is a hibernating animal. To set off now would be to sail into a deteriorating series of weather patterns and ever shortening days. Oh, how depressing! It is my feeling, having reached this corner of the Bristol Channel, that I am on the edge of a new voyage. Today I saw the Islands of Skomer and Skokholm. Northwards is Fishguard and further on is Holy Island with Holyhead and the Skerries. All evocative to a writer (my chosen persona for now!) and attractive to a little yacht and skipper, fit from sailing the summer breeze.

In my pleasure at weaving this web of sailing and writing, I feel as if I would enjoy having a year out of university, in order to sail to Ireland and North to Scotland. Of course that would be more difficult than it seems at present. The Autumn Breeze is less forgiving than the Summer breeze and it is weather that sets the scene for the sailor.

I thought to myself about the voyage back, being Eastwards I smiled, thinking aahhh, downwind all the way. Then reality woke me. "Stupid" I said to myself, "The wind's always from ahead!".

What of my logbook? Now, or soon, all I'll have to remark on is a making homewards. a diminishing sense of wonder as Summer packs his bags and heads South. While I have commitments in Bristol, to Sociology.

So what's next then, eh?
I would like to sail this way again and turn North past the Puffin and Gannett infested rocks, towards Scotland...

Somehow the wonder of far away ports is in the beholder, I have re-found my love of sailing, I have ventured out beyond Bristol's cultural milieux to seek my sense of self. I have found a wandering spirit with a tenacious grip on reality. But, I have also realised that cruising without spare money is miserable. I have sufficient money to pay my way but previous cruises have involved serious shortages of funds. Such as in Oostende (1993) in Belgium, when Kresza and I couldn't buy food or fuel and the port charges were £12 per night. We escaped to Calais, where I could restock the kitty with my saxophone playing. It is quite hazardous to have to negotiate with poverty at the same time as the trials of seafaring.

I'm rambling, the journey is done, all I have to do is sail home now and be quiet! Everyone will look forward to my return because the virtual anxiety will no longer impinge on their daily lives!
I'm not home yet, there will be some stories to tell on the way home too, I'm sure.

Thinking of going further...
Looking at the chart (Imray, C60, Gower Peninsula To Cardigan) I see it is a convenient hop to Solva, in St Brides Bay. After Solva is Fishguard, just 20 miles further. I would love to explore those ports, I wonder if I could fit in a trip up there before making back to Bristol. September can have good weather, I will decide about this after I've been to Ilkley and am back on Juggler in Milford Haven.