Inishbeg > Baltimore

Sandy Island from The Sound

We depart late morning near high water Baltimore. We run down the river under staysail only, running and reaching, gybing downwind. Conditions start out relatively calm, and of course things are always calmer with the wind from astern. As we approach Quarantine Island we spot a seal who thinks he is a dolphin. At this point I have to admit that I have no idea what that means, but it’s what I wrote down in my log so I’ll have to go with it. The wind is rising.

We round Quarantine Island with Sandy Island to starboard. The wind is now funnelling through The Sound towards us. I want to put up some main sail, but Laura doesn’t want me to hoist the main. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to beat to windward under staysail only, and in the end that turns out the be the case. We advance at a reasonable pace for a while, but at one point we are heading towards the rocky shore of Spanish Island and we need to tack, but the bow will not come through the wind. We put the engine in gear and Laura steers towards the centre of the channel as I go forward to take down the staysail. We motor back across the harbour to the mooring. 

As we approach the mooring we notice that both the Sherkin and Cape ferries are in the inner harbour and both look like they are about to leave. Hmm… what should we do now? The wind is very blustery now and we decide to go for it. Laura is at the helm with me at the bow with a boathook. I miss the buoy on the first attempt but we spin around and I catch it on the second try.

We tie up and do some basic tidying and then load up the dinghy and head in. The conditions are quite choppy in the harbour, with a strong gusting wind against the falling tide. After a while I’m getting tired of rowing and ask if there might be any volunteers to take over. Laura is game and rows us the rest of the way back to the pontoon while I rest my weary arms. I have to admit she surprises me. She is getting very good at helming and handled the boat very well today in difficult conditions. She can be grumpy and unwilling sometimes but when the going gets rough she comes through in the end.

We take up our usual table at the Jolie Brise and order pizzas followed by apple tart with ice cream. As we are enjoying our meal, the wind dies down and the sun breaks through the clouds. We made it back in one piece. It feels good to be alive!

Tuesday, 18/07/2017

Inishbeg to Baltimore

R, E, & L

Baro 1015 falling slowly

Mostly cloudy

Wind E to ESE, F4 gusting to F6

Baltimore > Inishbeg

At anchor between Creagh and Inishbeg

We land in Cork on July 9th. Accompanying us on the flight is Oriane, a friend of Laura’s who will be spending a week with us in Baltimore. We have a house for the week, the “Bungalow” which has spectacular views from the modern kitchen addition to the side of the house. Oriane is not a sailor, so we spend the week doing touristy stuff. We hike up to Spain Tower, walk to the Cove for some sunset photography, take the ferry to Cape and visit the goat farm, drive to Drombeg, walk out to the Beacon, and climb up to the top of Knockomaugh. The weather is good and the week passes by quickly. Soon we are taking Oriane back to Cork to catch her return flight home. On the way back down we stop off in Kinsale and wander around a bit. 

All this time I’ve been watching Treo swing on her mooring in the harbour. I can even see her from the house. I’m watching the weather forecasts and planning our escape. The beginning of the week looks good, with a few settled days. I manage to convince the crew to head for an overnight trip up the river to Creagh. The advantage being that the trip up/down the river is more sheltered that the bay, or even Baltimore Harbour itself.

We want to catch the flood tide up the river, so we’ll be leaving mid-afternoon. In the mean time we get lunch in Bushe’s but the Wifi doesn’t work so we relocate to The Jolie Brise for coffee and a fix of Wifi. We get a few overnight supplies from Cotter’s and then start ferrying stuff to the boat. I bring back the water tank to fill at the pier, and we are ready to leave at low water.

The crew is not very enthusiastic, and Laura is doing a bit of a miserable teenager impression. To make things even worse, just as we are about to leave she accidentally knocks her sunglasses off her head and over the side. Plop. Gone. She’s really upset but there’s nothing to be done. Winds are light and we are using a combination of motor and staysail to get through the Sound and up the mouth of the Ilen River. Eventually the slow tempo of the river does its magic, and everyone starts to relax and enjoy. 

We spot the seal colony off Ringaroga, and as we come up the west side of the island I spot a pier marked on the chart. We slow down and do some reconnaissance, hoping to be able to come in there and go ashore for a bit. But the only thing we can see is the big storehouse-converted-into-a-mansion and its very private pontoon jutting out into the river. To add to the non-welcoming atmosphere there are two hungry-looking guard dogs running around and barking at us! We are close enough to see the grand piano in the window, and remember the stories of porno films having been filmed there.

Having given up on the idea of going ashore, we continue up the river past Inishbeg, and then try to identify the edge of the channel where we can safely drop our anchor clear of any traffic, and at the same time benefiting from the maximum amount of shelter from the nearby land. We take in the sails and end up finding a spot up towards Barry’s boathouse. With the anchor set we tidy up the boat a bit and start preparing for dinner. The fresh air really builds an appetite! We cook up the traditional pot of pasta with sauce, which as usual tastes absolutely delicious. Food always tastes better outdoors. Unfortunately we forgot to bring the bottle of wine, but once again there is nothing to be done.

Sunset, looking towards Inishbeg

The tide is falling again as night sets in, and the wind has died down completely. The mud bank between Inishbeg and the mainland slowly appears next to us as the water level continues to fall. The mud brings out the birds, who scurry around picking for their dinner. Herons are fishing the increasingly shallow water nearby. A rowing scull passes quietly by on our opposite side where there is still sufficient water to navigate the main channel. 

Darkness slowly falls, and we can hear a dog barking in the distance. The bark sounds familiar, and we are sure it's Josh in Creagh! I hang the anchor light from the staysail halyard, check the anchor one last time, and then we get the sleeping bags out and climb in to our bunks. At first it’s blissfully quiet as I nod off to sleep, but then it starts. Plop, plop, sploop. Splash, bump, knock, knock. Knock knock knock knock knock…

Wednesday, 12/07/2017

Roaringwater to Baltimore

Tiernan

Puts her on mooring 27, about half way between the end of the South pier and the tip of Coney Island. 

Monday, 17/07/2017

Baltimore to Inishbeg

R, E, & L

Baro 1024 falling slowly

Mostly sunny

Wind E to ESE, F2 gusting to F4

Baltimore -> Inishbeg -> Baltimore

Anchored off Inishbeg

My goal in life is to get us out of Baltimore Harbour. Not that there is anything wrong with sailing in the harbour, but it just doesn't feel like an adventure. At the same time I'm aware that this will be a big step for Eileen and Laura. They still feel uneasy on our boat. 

In the past we've chartered 30 foot sailboats in places we've never been before, but maybe somehow the larger size of those boats was reassuring for the girls. Bigger boats are more stable, less likely to hit rocks and sink. It's strange though, because I feel the opposite. On our boat I know we can handle the much smaller loads on the sails and rigging, we're not dependent on an electric windlass for the anchor, or an engine for battery charging. The systems are much simpler, much less to go wrong, much easier to fix. 

But I can't deny that on our boat your are closer to the water, things happen more quickly, and although it's very stable for the size, it is tippier than a larger boat. Also, the water in the Med is tideless and warm and inviting, so if one did end up going for an unplanned swim it wouldn't be such a scary prospect.

As well as their needing to gain confidence in the boat there is another, perhaps more influent factor. When sailing with someone like Con or Tiernan, the girls are reassured by the presence of an experienced sailor so they can relax and enjoy things more. Hard as it is on my ego, I haven't earned their confidence as a skipper yet and I know this is going to take some time. So I have to carefully balance my desire for adventure with their desire not to leave their comfort zone.

With all this in mind, I've been carefully watching the weather forecast hoping for a few settled days with light winds. I want to do an over-nighter, but the weather so far has been extremely changeable. You just can't plan more that a day or two ahead and even then you might not get what was forecast... Blame it on the Jet Stream, which has been hovering right over southern Ireland. One day it moves a bit farther north and we get a good day, the next day it moves a bit farther south and we get a bad day.

The forecast says that by mid-week it's going to head a bit farther north and stay there for a few days. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday all look good, with Thursday being the best day. So we plan to head up the Ilen River on Wednesday and spend the night at anchor somewhere near Oldcourt. I ask Con about good places to anchor, and he suggests the northeast tip of Inishbeg, near the boat house. There is a buoy off the slipway that Dick used to keep his boat on, and anywhere east of that would be fine. He also suggests we use an anchor light as there is a small chance you might get a trawler coming down from Oldcourt during the night.

Wednesday arrives, and the weather is not as good as forecast. Preparing the boat takes a bit longer than usual, since we also need to fill the water tank, and add flush water and chemicals to the portapotty. By the time we are ready to head off, the wind is blowing quite strongly, and Laura doesn't want to go. I'm confident that it will be much calmer once we get to the river's mouth and turn east, with wind from astern and the flood tide carrying us along. Then we should be able to find a sheltered spot tucked in behind Inishbeg.

We motor off the mooring, with Laura at the helm as usual. I must be getting soft, because I agree to hoist the staysail only and proceed under engine and staysail. Actually, I'm pretty sure we'll have the wind directly on the nose going through The Sound, then wind from astern as we turn into the river, so keeping this setup will avoid a lot of bother in these gusty conditions. And for some reason Eileen and Laura are reassured by the engine. They seem blissfully unaware that engines can conk out with bad fuel, electrical problems, overheating, ropes tangled in the prop, etc. In which case you'll need to either sail or anchor.

As predicted, as soon as we turn east around Quarantine Island everything calms down. Soon we kill the engine, and with favourable wind and tide we're making good progress under staysail alone. We pass the seals sunning themselves on Inishleigh, a field of seagulls on Ringaroga where a farmer is cutting silage, and immobile cranes patiently looking for prey on the river bank. Life slows down and everyone is relaxing, enjoying the ride. Bliss!

We're winding our way up the river, running wide in the bends and keeping an eye on the depth sounder. I pull up the centre-plate a bit just in case. As we round Inishbeg the boathouse comes into view. We spot the orange mooring buoy but it has a couple of ribs tied to it, and there are people sitting out on the front deck of the house. This is slightly worrying because there are often loud parties there in the summer, blasting their music across the river to Creagh. Fingers crossed that we won't have to move to a quieter spot later on.

Looking at the chart, it seems like the best place to anchor is in the bend between Inishbeg and the pier at Barry's. The farther we can tuck in there the more shelter we will get, but it also gets very shallow very quickly once you leave the channel. I prepare the anchor, then we start the engine and Eileen and I take down the staysail. I ask Laura to do a u-turn and then come back towards the edge of the channel, pointing into the wind and tide, where we will drop the anchor. She slowly turns up towards what should be mid-channel and deeper water but something doesn't feel right... I don't think we're moving? We've gone aground! Crap! A bit of confusion ensues, but a little reversing gets us off quickly. Now turn and approach the edge of the channel, watching the depth sounder. When it gets to about a metre I drop the anchor and we start drifting back with the current.

It's our first time using the anchor (a 7 kg Manson Supreme) so I'm not really sure what to expect. I can feel it bite almost immediately. I let out the seven metres of chain plus about twenty metres of rode and tie off. The boat comes to a halt and doesn't move. We sit in the cockpit for a while, keeping an eye out to see if we are moving but we're not and the hunger soon gets to us.

Drunken midnight dinghy ride!

I've been designated the scullery boy*, but Eileen gives in and starts cooking while I'm tidying the boat and preparing for a night at anchor. We don't have an anchor light so I take our LED lantern and hang it from a halyard along with the anchor ball. Soon dinner is ready, and I don't know how she managed it but we all agree it's the best pasta ever! We enjoy a glass of wine with our meal, and take in the peace and quiet which thankfully hasn't been broken by any parties at the boat house.

There were many "firsts" this evening; first time anchoring, first time using the fresh water tank, first time cooking aboard, first time using the portapotty. I'm happy to say that everything worked perfectly! Night falls and I want to see how effective the anchor light is, so I suggest we take a drunken midnight dinghy ride. I'm not actually drunk, but this has been a standing joke since I suggested it on the night of Eileen's birthday. Laura's not so sure that I'm not drunk so she insists on rowing us around.

The wind has died down during the evening and it's flat calm now. We call it a day and tuck into our sleeping bags. I set an alarm for 04:30, about the time when I expect the tide to turn. I want to make sure the anchor holds as we swing through 180 degrees. Sleep comes quickly, but after a while I'm awakened by a clunking noise. Is it the dinghy hitting the boat? No, sounds like the rudder. Just ignore it and go to sleep. Clunk. I'm trying, but it's really loud, the boat acting like a hollow drum to amplify the sound. Clunk. No, I'll have to get out and do something. I crawl out and tighten the line holding the tiller amidships. That should do it. Now back to my toasty-warm sleeping bag. Ahhhh. Clunk.

The alarm goes off at 04:30 and I get up to have a look at the anchor. Eileen wakes and takes a look out as well. Despite the tiredness we're glad we got out. Not because the anchor is dragging. On the contrary it's holding perfectly well. But the night is so calm, the river is like a mirror, there's a bit of moonlight, and every once in a while a bird or duck calls out, the lonely cry echoing across the water. Pure magic!

Back to sleep, and some time later I can hear light rain falling. I'm a bit worried that our non-waterproof lantern / anchor light will get wrecked, but there's not much I can do. It's still shining for now so I leave it hoping it will last until daylight.

Just a bit farther ...

We take it easy in the morning, not being in any hurry to leave our comfy beds. After a leisurely breakfast in the cockpit, I suggest we take a dinghy ride over to see Creagh Church. Laura prefers to stay on board so Eileen and I head off. After rowing for what seems like hours I still can't see the church. Eventually the spire peeks out from behind the trees. An Treo is just a speck in the distance. I keep rowing but still don't see any more of the church. Sure didn't seem that far from the boat. I finally give up, and Eileen rows us back. 

We tidy up the boat and prepare to weigh anchor and head back to Baltimore. Liam Hegarty passes in the distance, towing a classic wooden yacht up to Oldcourt. I start hauling up the anchor rode. Then up comes the chain and eventually the anchor, covered in fine sticky black mud.

We hoist the staysail and motor-sail down the river, mostly motoring against a light head wind, but with a bit of ebb tide behind us. Once in a while a meander of the river puts the wind on our beam and fills the sail. We come to the entrance to The Sound and turn southeast, putting the wind astern. We spot the big RoRo in the distance, rounding Sandy Island and entering The Sound behind us. Eventually he overtakes us, and we're preparing to be tossed around violently, but surprisingly he hardly leaves any wake. Much less than the ribs that seem to send us flying regularly. We're making slow progress, maybe two knots. Several other boats have overtaken us, and I suggest that maybe we should hoist some more sail, pick up the speed a bit? Nope, Laura is happy being a slowpoke. Back on the mooring, tie up, success!

*Galley slave

Logbook

Tuesday, 21/07/2015

Rowed out to check mooring lines. All OK. 

Payed €25 for a week of dinghy parking on the new inside pontoon.

Wednesday, 22/07/2015

Baltimore to Inishbeg

5.5 miles; 14 gusting to 20 kn at first, calm later; 1008 hPa rising

Staysail only

Anchored overnight between Inishbeg slip and Barry's pier

Thursday, 23/07/2015

Inishbeg to Baltimore

4.6 miles; 6 gusting to 12 kn; 1010 hPa rising slowly

Motor-sailing under staysail