A new home

I wrote this on Sept 1, after we'd been here for about 2 wks. One of the biggest adjustments has been the slow, stuttering and expensive internet access. And then my laptop has been wifi challenged on top of that. So I haven't posted it yet, but tonight it's all coming together so here we have it....

9/1/19

Flying to Anchorage from Glasgow for our a turn-around week I felt like I was at the beginning of a Ninja Warrior obstacle course. I was positive about my chances: I’m well trained up in transitions and was relaxed - yet focused on my tasks. It was a daunting list: move our ridiculous amount of stuff out of storage to either the Crash Pad or Unalaska, facilitate quality time with the kids’ friends, shop for back to school and living in Unalaska (hello Costco), get the car to the ferry in Homer, do all the “life maintenance” appointments we could fit in, hike, and get some quality friend time in myself. 

I didn’t frost the cookie to myself, and was expecting to be extremely stressed. So imagine my surprise, relief, and joy when I found myself, on my second evening home, jet lagged but happy: hanging out with a small smattering of dear friends from different areas of life and laughing, connecting, telling stories, and catching up. On of my oldest and dearest friends had come up from Seattle following the peaceful death of her elderly mom, and that healthy reminder of mortality set the priorities for the week. 

(Janet’s mom was just one of the moms in my life growing up - much like the parents in the Charlie Brown cartoons, we often were guilty of assuming our parents existed as a backdrop to our adolescent dramas. But, sitting in her service, I was in awe at her life. She was roughly my age now when she adopted her 2 daughters…stunning bravery. ) 

The days passed all too quickly, mostly filled with all good things. Of course there were the frazzled moments…alone in traffic…late to some appointment…with a car full of crap…and an endless list, but those moments didn’t dominate my week. Instead, I luxuriated in the love and support of friends and family: my nephew who helped me move furniture on 2 separate evenings, the hikes and other time spent with friends, dinner with my family, an evening with my book club, quiet time in the Crash Pad (a condo that we’re sharing with a few other out-of-town health care providers so that we can all have an oasis in Anchorage) ….all that is good in the world.  

Tuesday was my crux day and I got our Unalaska car to the Trusty Tustumena at the ferry terminal in Homer on time, and got help from an old friend who drove it onto the ferry while I took a flight home. In the process I created a life lesson for myself by leaving the keys to the “Anchorage car” in the “Unalaska car” that was on the ferry for 4 days. Lelia came to the rescue by getting the spare key from Mom’s condo, but it was interesting how ballistic I went on myself. How many of us a) panic and b) berate ourselves  when we make a mistake that, if anyone else had made it, we would have a) kindly said, “No biggie, we’ll figure this out.” And b) calmly problem-solve through it. AmIright?! AFGE

Murray arrived on Wednesday after tucking the Young Larry into her winter home in Ardfern Marina. Thursday…is a blur.  Friday Sam and I flew out too Unalaska….

So enough about getting out here: We are in Unalaska!!! LIVING HERE! 

In a nutshell: I love it. I’m so happy we’re here. I was terribly anxious about the kids. They have had to adjust in ways I don’t, and I worry how our nomadic life choices will affect them. They both miss their friends terribly, but I’m so impressed by their resilience. So far they’re meeting new friends, getting involved in activities, and settling in. I’m very, very proud of and impressed by them.

Unalaska is breathtakingly beautiful - that fact often gets missed in the stories about the terrible weather, WW II, the tragedies that the indigenous Unangan (Aleut) people have survived, and the Wild West fishing industry. It is a diverse community clinging between the mountains and the sea - thriving at the edge of the world. It is a liminal space in many ways - balanced between the Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea, Asia and North America, the land and the ocean, civilization and wilderness.

At this point our big effort has been devoted to moving in, starting school, and getting oriented at work. We’ve gone on a few fabulous hikes and just scratched the surface of the community.  We’ve also rested a lot and I’m enjoying the feeling of getting rooted in my space. 

**I'm posting photos on Instagram at akjenh. Mostly of hikes, because hiking makes me happy - which is when I take photos. **

Crinan Canal

We have been steadily moving and exploring. I may write additional posts on the different legs, but for now there is too much. Let me sum up: We left Holyhead harbor the very night we arrived, and arrived at the Isle of Man the next morning, where we spent 4 adventurous days. Then we were off to Northern Ireland, bowing to the dictates of the prevailing winds. After 2 nights in Northern Ireland, the winds were good for our sail back across the North Channel to Loch Ryan in southern Scotland. Next morning we had a cracking sail north, past Ailsa Crag (clouded over or we would've stopped to climb it), and into Ardrossan Harbor, just south of Glasgow. There we sadly said goodbye to Ry, enjoyed a day in Glasgow, then took the train to Edinburgh for an overnight and to pick up Ella, another of Natalie's friends. 

With Ella in tow, we sailed to Arran and anchored right under Brodick Castle. The next day we went further north to await our appointed date to go through the Crinan Canal. 

The next morning at 8:30 am we were waiting at the lock...and thus began our day in the Crinan Canal - what an experience. 

It's a beautiful waterway - so serene and cozy. At times also a little mind-bending as we glimpsed cars, houses, and even the sea below us. The narrow green corridors were periodically interrupted by the hard work of negotiating the locks. 

Mentally it's challenging to repeatedly dock, throw/secure lines, and manage the turbulence as the locks fill and empty. 

Physically the kids thrived on the work of cranking open and closed the locks, and running from one lock to the next. Murray and I stayed on the boat, so didn't get the workout they did, but I was still tired at the end of the day.

We went through the 15 locks in a convoy of 3 boats and developed a sense of camaraderie over the course of the 7 hrs. The kids, especially Sam, enjoyed being part of a larger team and he was thrilled to be invited to join their crews...But we wouldn't agree to give him up.

The hero of the day was another wonderful connection: weeks ago, a friend from Pomfret had emailed us that he had a friend who lived near the Crinan Canal. He mentioned, but we missed/forgot, that his friend was a pilot on the canal. The canal recommends private pilots to take people through, and we naturally thought after reading the literature available that we could probably do without. But the morning of, as we were arriving at the canal and thinking a pilot would actually be quite nice, Murray re-read the email and saw that George's friend was a pilot.

So we emailed him, just to introduce ourselves and ask if he had any advice...not only did he reply, but he came right down! And really made the day wonderful. I don't know what we would've done without him - I mean, obviously, we would have made it (I think), but the crews of the other boats (who had done the canal before) both raved about how smoothly and well this transit went all due to him.

We were all knackered when we got to the final basin, where we rested a day, explored, kayaked and ate at the lovely hotel/pub. We also met Mike's wife and got to see their amazing farm, overlooking the canal. A highlight of the trip.

Liverpool

We made it to Holyhead, Wales by the appointed date to pick up Ry from the Glasgow airport. Murray was excited about visiting Liverpool, so, with the Young Larry set on a secure mooring, we boarded a train to Liverpool, planning to stay 2 nights with a day trip by Natalie and I to Glasgow in the middle to get our newest crew member.

I'd never had a yearning to see Liverpool - I knew very little about it aside from the soccer team, Beatles, and industrial past but was up for the experience.

After checking in to our room with a view

we set off to explore.



Sam noticed that an ornate building we passed was the Liverpool Central Public Library, and insisted that we stop in...and we were so glad he did. We were blown away! It blends old and new design in a public space that is so welcoming and invigorating.

After spending quite a bit of time in the library, we walked to the waterfront for dinner and messing about.

The next morning Natty and I took the train up through the Lakes District and southern Scotland to Glasgow...such a nice relaxing ride. There is a soothing quality to staring out the train window at the landscape whizzing by on a train.
We smoothly caught our connections and were there in time to greet Ry as he came out of security!

The way back was hampered by connections missed by mere minutes that snowballed into more and more time, but as the public transportation is so good, it really wasn't a terrible thing. However, I watched myself get tightly wound as the bus from the airport to the train station fell the crucial 5 minutes behind schedule but talked myself down...repeatedly.
And it was fine.
And we got dinner at the train station.
And even though the next train was packed with commuters for the first hour, we couldn't find seats together (or even good seats at all) and I embarrassingly crushed some people with a near fall on a turn, we still arrived in good time and in one piece to Liverpool.

Travel tip: VirginRail (who we took on the way up) is the rail company to ride if you have the choice.

We spent one more night in Liverpool and then took the train back to Holyhead.

Wooden ships, iron people

Tuesday June 24th.

This is Murray taking a spin at the blog helm.   It has been a great trip so far, for more of the highs read on below, but I want to start with the last 24 hours.  We were coming off a 30 hour day.  That morning we had left our beautiful tranquil anchorage way up the Helford River at a place called Tremayne Quay.  We had spent 2 nights there due to weather and it was shocking how tiny the river got on each of the low tides.  Fortunately we were anchored in a small pool in the remaining channel.  When we went to get the anchor up on Friday morning the chain pulled up a huge waterlogged branch.  The branch and the chain were intertwined and it looked like a bad situation.  Fortunately we were able to get in the dingy and cut through the branch with a hacksaw and that allowed the chain to shake free.  Phew!

Only slightly delayed we headed out around the Lizard and Land’s End.  Yet more spectacular coastline - the whole thing has been so far: cliffs, dramatic headlands, wave dashed rocks.  All very wild, in some ways similar to Unalaska (seriously), but Unalaska if it were scattered with occasional villages, castles, and green fields full of sheep and cattle!  Jen has turned in to our navigator - I love navigation, but hate planning.  She likes (and needs) to plan.  Which in fortunate, because these British Isles are completely surrounded by powerful currents due to the huge tides.  In New England, where I grew up sailing, the tides were mostly less than 10 feet.  Here they are much bigger.  Almost Bay of Fundy-sized in places.  Alaska has big tides, but most of the places we sailed there were very deep, so the currents were usually slower than they are here.  It is critical to understand the tides and the currents and look ahead, which fortunately is one of the many things that Jen is great at.    

Jen timed our trips around the Lizard and Land’s End perfectly and we rounded them both easily and then started the longest “open sea” passage of the trip: 110 miles across the Celtic Sea/ Bristol Channel to Milford Haven.  We began with motoring, but around 1 a.m. we were able to get the sails up.  Which is when the dolphins showed up!  I had just gotten Natalie up to experience sailing at night under the stars.  Suddenly we were surrounded by about 10-20 dolphins.  They stayed with us for 20 minutes.  I don’t recall ever having them stick around that long in Alaska.  We got Sam up and both kids went up to the bow to watch them play all around our the boat.  The sailing got better through the night and the next morning the dolphins were back for another 20 minutes play session.  We particularly enjoyed - or should I say they particularly enjoyed? - swimming behind us tickling (scratching themselves?) on the bottom of our dingy (the Portland Pudgy, who we have given the name Iliuliuk which is one of the bays in Dutch Harbor and means Harmony).  The kids sat on the seat on the afterdeck (which the Brits call the push pit, a term I had never heard back home) and watched them play.  We arrived in Milford Haven in the early afternoon.   The Haven is an incredible deep water harbor, open in all weather and all tides - which is a rarity on this coast.  It has been a strategic spot for centuries.  The Vikings were here.  Oliver Cromwell’s fleet left from here to subdue Ireland during the 17th century Civil War.  The Royal Navy had a dockyard here through the First World War.  It is a stunningly beautiful place.  It is also a major petrochemical port in the UK with LNG and petroleum terminals and the largest refinery in the UK.  If you do a panorama head swivel it is a remarkable contrast.  Beautiful bays, cliffs and headlands interrupted by massive smokestacks, docks, tankers and shore tanks.   We anchored in a lovely bay that was 300 degrees postcard gorgeous and 60 degrees Newark, NJ.  Jen and the kids rowed to shore.  Jen went on a hike and Sam and Natalie played on a beach and played beach soccer with some kids.

The next morning we got up early and started our push around St. David’s Head and Cardigan Bay.  It was going to be another long passage ~ 80 miles.  It started gloriously.  Lots of wind and current in our favor.  We had the sails up and were doing 9-10 knots as we rounded St. David’s Head……and then the tide turned.  The wind was from the East, and flukey, so we didn’t have the dreaded wind over tide situation which can set up nasty waves (we saw plenty of that in the fjords of SE Alaska).  But against the current and hard on the wind - which was flukey as I said - we were going nowhere.  We spent about 4 hours going about 9 miles.  Our ETA up at Porth Dinllaen on the Lleyn Peninsula kept getting pushed back further and further.  

And did I mention it was raining all day?  

And that both kids were seasick?  

Morale was low.  

And then the wind clocked ahead and the current got a little stronger and we threw in the towel and turned around and sailed down to Fishguard, to which we arrived at 3 in the morning in the fog.  (Luckily the huge fast ferries that run to Ireland were done for the night.)  We were so relieved to be there.  And then when we went to put the anchor down it wouldn’t budge.  The windless only wanted to go up, it had no interest in releasing the chain and the anchor.  So we scrambled and put out the 2nd anchor and went down to get some much needed sleep.

I am so proud of my crew.  I say my crew because I am the one who cooked up this whole adventure and Shanghaied them into signing on.

Sam has been a trooper.  He hasn’t lost his passion for playing on his iPad or voraciously reading books, but he is contributing more and more in the running of the boat.  He is our helmsman when we need the 3 of us to get the mainsail down.  He (reluctantly) is becoming the next great Buttner male dishwasher.  Most importantly, his perky energy and humor seem to kick in when the rest of us are flagging.

Natalie has been a super trooper.  Positive, brave, up for anything.  She is our designated mast climber and part of our foredeck duo (me and her).  She has been playing guitar, painting, writing, and learning about how everything works.  Yesterday she got really low during the long slog to Fishguard (if we had set out to go there from Milford Haven directly we would have gotten in 8 hours sooner [sad face emoji here].  And so she taught herself how to tie a monkey’s fist knot and practiced guitar.  And when we finally threw in the towel and turned the boat south she rallied and helped us anchor the boat at 3 am.  

And Jen.  What can I say.  She is incredible - anyone reading this blog already knows that.  But except for the crew of the the Amber J out in Bristol Bay (you know who you are) you haven’t seen Jen at her strongest until you have seen her on a boat.  She has such reserves of strength and willpower.  Like yesterday when she spent 40 minutes fighting the diesel heater that wouldn’t stay lit.  She won - thank goodness because we needed to warm up and dry out the cabin.  I have already mentioned her planning skills in regards to her methodical approach to the charts and tide tables.  But her organizational skills go much deeper than that.  As some famous military figure once said, amateurs study tactics, professionals study logistics.  Logistics: 1) the detailed coordination of a complex operation involving many people, facilities, or supplies. 2) the organization of moving, housing, and supplying troops and equipment.  That's Jen!  She is our logistician supreme.   

So yesterday was hard.  Our first “bad day”.  The previous 30 hour passage had been long, but the sailing was as good as it gets and dolphins!!  And there is nothing more ethereal than sailing at night under a clear sky.  But yesterday was type 2 fun, maybe type 3 (we have a divergence of views on how fun is typed).  It could have been so so much worse.  The wind and seas were uncomfortable, but totally non-threatening.  Kids were seasick, but no one was throwing up or incapacitated.   When I had cooked up this whole scheme I knew that there were going to be some tough days and that they were going to be one of the best reasons for doing what we are doing.  Our modern world doesn’t often offer the challenges that our ancestors experienced regularly.  Sadly we are hermetically separated from this amazing world by our screens, windows and windshields.  We get upset by traffic congestion, slow internet speeds and poor cell reception.   I have thought a lot about what it must have been like sailing to America in the 1600s.  Even my grandparents who travelled by steamer pre-commercial jet travel lived in a very different world.  We are reading a really fun book called "Topsails and Battle-axes" by Tom Cunliffe.  It is about the Vikings who sailed to the Iceland, Greenland and North America centuries before Columbus.  

There is a saying about the past: the boats were made of wood and the people were made of iron!  Hopefully this trip will give us all more appreciation of our past and our present and so many other things.

The River Fal

6/14-21 We pulled into the surprisingly bustling harbor of Falmouth mid morning on Thursday, June 13. We managed to snag a mooring buoy - only catching it by the aid of a fisherman who saw our plight and rowed over from his boat to help us transfer our rope through the fixed loop on the top of the buoy - I like being moored, and catching them is not usually a problem, but some of them are very hard to get a line attached to! We found out it was a Classic Boat Regatta and a Sea Chanty Festival that weekend - hence the full and busy harbor! 

 Although Falmouth is a significant port, lots of commercial traffic and a long maritime history so it would have been the busiest harbor we’d called at yet no matter what festivals were going on.

The tides were impressive, and the stone wharfs even more so...

Feeding the birds...

 Our mooring was a significant distance to row from the marina or any docks where we could leave a dingy so we generally called a water taxi to get to and from shore. 

Murray rowing us home through the boats

A huge jelly, hanging out near the wharf

We did lots of wandering through the town, sightseeing, shopping, eating,

 looking at the beautiful classic boats - both at dock and out sailing - and enjoying the singing. 

Not all of us appreciated the singing equally

However, the best part of our time in Falmouth was connecting with people - Murray had corresponded with a professional sailor and writer. He surveyed the Young Larry during our purchase process and has been a wealth of information and help. The morning after we arrived, he texted that he could see the Young Larry from the window of his house! He lives in Falmouth and recognized her at her mooring in the harbor. It was great to meet him in person: Murray picked his brain about a rigging issue, and he had invaluable advice about route planning.

Sunday as the hoopla from the festival died down we sailed/motored up the Truro River as far as we could go - and the wind followed us up! It was impressive to be away from the sea, up a river and have the wind whirling us about. It was Father's Day so Murray spent it on an adventure with his kids - hiked around, found the Old Kea Church and caught one of their twice monthly services.  

After 1 night there we came back down to have work done on the rigging at Mylor Harbor, just around the corner from Falmouth. And another amazing connection: the man who owned the original Larry and built the Young Larry (in Malta) was in the area as well, having work done on his newest boat (still an old boat). He came over and we spent a fabulous hour or 2 talking to him. How amazing to meet him! And he confirmed that the Larry was in Falmouth Harbor as well on a mooring - we found her the next day. 

There wasn’t anything except the marina and 2 little restaurants at Mylor, so the next few days while the rigging was being worked on we came and went. We got a bus pass and took the bus to see Truro and the cathedral there, Natty and I went into Falmouth and got her a wetsuit (which we’d been talking about for months) and loaded up on more groceries. We had hilarious bus connections but made it home in 1 piece to leave Mylor Wednesday evening for a picture-perfect sail down to Helford River  again - up through the kajillion boats on moorings and into a little hole further up the river that Murray spotted on the chart. 

The kids slept out on the deck and we planned to spend some time exploring the next day. Which started out well - Natalie got to use her wetsuit and jump into the river from the bowsprit, rigging, etc. But the wind really kicked up and we spent the rest of the day holed up in the boat watching the shore circle by. I got some much needed trip planning done - timings set, way points plotted and a sense of how we need to make the big push around Land’s End to Milford Haven. In the evening the wind died down and Murray took each kid out sailing in our PP. They all needed some fresh air and energy released by then! (we did take pictures, but I can't get them to load just now)

We start tomorrow and plan to round Lizard Point at 11:30 and be rounding Land’s End between 1430-1530 to keep the current on our side. Then an overnight push to get up to Wales by the next day. We anticipate it’ll take 18-24 hrs to make the passage. And we will keep pushing to get closer to Glasgow for our first visitor pick-up on June 27th. These last 3 weeks have flown by!

Salcombe to Falmouth

View back to Salcombe

6/10-6/12 - Our 2 nights in Salcombe were very fun - we were moored in the river, with many other boats riding out the windy weather for a day, and took a water taxi into town. My 2 favorite things about Salcombe: the fancy and friendly yacht club and our amazing hike. We went on a fantastic walk around the headlands we’d come in past. Very craggy and intimidatingly steep. The South Coast Trail would be fun to do if you were on land, and we’ve joined it for little walks at different ports. This was our favorite part yet. Salcombe is built on steep hills that drop precipitously to hidden beaches between rocky crags. We walked up and down through town to Overbecks, a National Trust Garden and from there up to the top of the cliffs.

From the top, we walked along the top until the next valley, and descended into it where it’s possible to take a lower trail back to the town. Natalie and I weren’t satisfied and so continued on walking, cutting across sheep fields to meet up with the South Coast Trail again, and then we following it back along the bluffs to the Y. Murray and Sam headed directly back from the Y to one of the beaches we’d passed in order to catch a little ferry back to town. The tides here are Alaskan large so at that point of the tide, the ferry couldn’t get in close to the beach and their solution is to bring passengers out to the ferry on a specially outfitted tractor!

Anyhow, both parties got to enjoy the impressive walk along the precipitous cliffs. The trail zigs and zags through the sharp rocks cascading down to the jade green water below - beautiful and fun to negotiate.  

Pretty little Salcombe

The next morning, Wednesday, June 12 we set sail for Falmouth/Helford River area. On our way we passed the isolated Eddystone Rocks Lighthouse - a solitary sentinel rising from the sea like magic. The lighthouse we passed was the 4th lighthouse on the rocks and was built in 1882. 

We ultimately deciding on Helford River for our first stop and arrived just as the sun was setting. Helford River is a popular yachting area and lots of boats were moored among the tiny clusters of stone houses, green fields, and rocky headlands. We rested overnight then motored for Falmouth on Thursday where we were expecting a navigation chip for our charting system and Murray wanted to get some other things worked on. 

Attitude

Wed, June 12

I realize that this is an amazing opportunity, adventure, holiday, etc. that we’re lucky to be on. But it’s not all strawberries and Cornish clotted cream - adventures do include some misery and this is no exception.What we anticipated would be one of the best/most challenging aspects to this trip has proven to be true: constant, intimate, proximity to each other. All day, everyday, in a space less than 44 feet long. It’s brutiful. 

View forwards from the galley

I believe that these types of situations tax introverts’ mental health more than extroverts’ - that's my bias. Overall we’re all doing a pretty good job being kind and respectful - with great allowances taken for fits of temper. We’re constantly hitting our heads and “swears” are flying freely. This is what sailors do. (Sailors drink rum too, but the rum rations thus far have been slim).

The kids are finding ways to have fun together instead of fighting/ignoring each other as they can with our home schedule. Working together to get the sails up/down and all the other boating responsibilities are what corporate team building exercises are modeled on. So we’re basically on a crash course in personal and familial growth. Which, as you can imagine, requires many bars of chocolate and bottles of wine for me. (Murray has his pubs and pints).  

The honest truth is that the first 1-2 weeks I was in a foul mood - I really wasn’t excited about buying a boat. I already fulfilled my “live aboard a sailboat” dream with the Katalla and I’ve not had any nostalgic thoughts about doing it again. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize until it was too late that this Young Larry idea was one of Murray’s enthusiasms that he would runaway with. So with my grudging consent - for the higher purpose of a family holiday - here we are. 

But upon our arrival at the Young Larry, the reality was a tough pill to swallow. How did I find myself back on a boat, hitting my head repeatedly, in a perpetual stoop from low ceilings, wearing the same clothes daily because it’s so damn hard to change lying down in a shoe box or standing in a postage stamp-sized floor space where the head clearance is offset from the foot space so you have to stand at a slant, all of it moving, and without any solitude to process? .…and add to it the docking drama, a hand pump toilet and no easy shower…it was a bit much.

My process to wrap my head around being in a situation that I didn’t choose, don’t want, can’t get out of, and have to make the best of for my kids is: Internally - loud and confusing, dark and consuming/Externally - Real. Quiet. And I lose my sense of humor. We’ve all been there, and we all know; this is not pretty. 

It took until Weymouth - and a talk with my good friend Dot to get my attitude adjusted.

It also helped that we found a wine and cheese bar at the harbor, steps from where we were tied up, and Murray and I tucked in there 2 of the 3 Weymouth nights. 

All of which means that, right now, in this quiet moment, sailing nicely with both kids occupied and a cup of tea in hand, I’m congratulating myself that resiliency is one of my character traits…and I am bouncing back to enjoy the adventures we’re having. Tomorrow is another day to manage...

Tidal racing - Studland Bay to Dartmouth via Weymouth

We left Studland Bay aiming to catch current all the way to Dartmouth (60 nm) - but we had a lesson in tidal races/Channel currents. Ultimately, we didn’t pull out far enough to catch the main current, got caught down the side of the bay, and nearly into a tidal race off St Albans headland which was very exciting! The race is where 2 tidal currents meet and the white caps were impressive. This particular race extends up to 3 miles off the headland and we slid down the side of it to stay on the outside of Weymouth Bay. We then tried to push past the Shambles off the Portland Bill (which is the other headland of the same bay), but realized we were going to be in for a very long sail indeed, and weren't in a good position to make best use of the current.
We were being carried along sideways faster than we could sail in our intended direction. Finally, at the last minute we safely could without being sucked into dangerous waters, we decided that wisdom was the better part of valor, cut our losses and headed cross-current into the bay. We then got to "ooo and aahhh" at the very cool rock formations of the Jurassic Coast all the way to Weymouth, at the head of the bay.

Weymouth was a little beach town - past it’s prime perhaps, but plenty to entertain us in the ways of shops and walks. It was the venue for sailing in the 2014 Olympics - there is good viewing of a wide bay and I imagine it was spectacular…seeing the setting makes me want to watch footage of the races.
After obsessing from the water over how to get around the tidal races at The Portland Bill, we took a bus up to see the lighthouse from land-side, which was a eye-openingly windy excursion.

We also got lunch at a true local’s pub and were regaled with stories from a sailor who was in both Her Majesty’s Navy and the Merchant Navy - he had been all over the world. Favorite place? The Caribbean (I think we should take advice from an expert).
Portland is also the site of many quarries (St. Pauls Cathedral is made of Portland granite) and there is one abandoned quarry that sculptors have used as a playground. You can wander through it to find all manner of sculptures carved out of granite in the now-overgrown hills and ravines of the quarry. That was my favorite part of the day.

Another highlight was the Nothe Fort and especially an exhibit of nearly 1,000 military ships/planes/etc made entirely out of wooden matches and matchboxes (to scale, with moving parts). Sam and Murray went first and Sam was so enthralled he brought me to see it another day - when to our delight, the man who made them was there! He was very chatty and appreciated Sam’s fascination with his collection.

He reminded me of my Congdon side - technical, detailed, full of engineering knowledge, and very, very persistent. Really shocking what people can accomplish when they spend their lives doing it.

The next day we had to start late in the day to juggle the tides/currents - we left Weymouth at 1 pm for a lovely sail, ghosting out of the harbor, past the massive Portland harbor (major embarkation point for the Allied troops on D Day), and around the infamous Portland Bill - our timing was perfect and no tidal races or whirlpools in sight.

In order to get to Dartmouth (still about 50 nm away), we decided eventually to start the engine - and it was a long day motoring, our longest day yet. Cream tea then dinner on the water, and we tucked the kids into bed with the engine vibrations for a lullaby. I slept a few hours but Murray refused to lay down until we were safely into Dartmouth and anchored in the heart of the town at 4 am - our first night navigation. Scary but successful!
We woke up in the midst of a busy town that straddles the Dart River with multiple water taxis and ferries. After getting some words of navigational wisdom from the harbor master launch, we motored up the river to explore. We enjoying the quiet pastoral bends until the turn of the tide, when we eased back downriver, through the dance with the ferries, and out past the double castles at the mouth of the river.

And sailed past another picturesque lighthouse on another breathtaking headland…they never cease to amaze.

Our first few hours we made good time but as we rounded the point we were heading directly into the wind - which was picking up and due to increase through night. Wisdom being the better part of valor, instead of pushing on we ducked into Salcombe Harbor, a historic river harbor now filled with posh summer homes elegantly cascading down the steep hillsides. It’s undoubtably nicer to come into these narrow, winding harbors in the daylight rather than 3 am.