Well it was all my brothers’ fault.

Brian was obviously determined to introduce me to the art of ‘proper’ sailing, navigation and all the other attributes associated with off shore cruising.

I was sufficiently keen to accompany Brian and Elizabeth on a ‘shake down’ trip starting from Douglas Boatyard.

The fact that we were starting from Douglas boatyard was the one and only definite, from there on everything else was just a complete mystery. What? Where? When? Why? and How? were questions that didn’t seem important to need any answers, we were going sailing and that was it! What else did we need to know?

They were on holiday and I kept putting the spanner in the works with my dedication and loyalty to work commitments, which didn’t help with the planning. The main problems were how long was I prepared to ‘skive’ from work, and how and where I was going to be picked up and dropped off?

The solution was that I would go for a ‘shakedown’ cruise for one day. Tues 6^th Aug.

To ease the transport problem, I decided to cycle to my fathers’ house in Southport (only 20miles) the night before and drive to the boat with B & E in the morning, easy, but not that easy.

In the end I initially planned to cycle direct to the boatyard Tues a.m., the bike would be ‘lashed’ on board somehow (to be decided) a trip in the Irish Sea somewhere (to be decided) and dropped off somewhere close to home hopefully (to be decided) then cycle back the same evening ‘a chez nous’.

Tuesday 05:00 a.m. I set off with lights aglow and a cruise luggage backpack, but with little traffic and wind I would have arrived at the boatyard by about 06:15 a.m. B & E would be still in bed, so I decided to carry on to father’s house adding another 10 miles to the journey for a cup of tea. I arrived just in time to catch Brian who had also changed his plans slightly and shocked to see me accused me/us of being ‘bonkers’ (whatever he meant by that) before he set off with Elizabeth to load the provisions. His revised plan was to drive Elizabeth to the boatyard then return with the van and cycle back in time to greet me. The revised, revised plan was for us both to say farewell to Dad and cycle back to the boatyard together adding another 10 miles cycling.

We sprinted to Douglas boatyard, well Brian did, on his little, foldaway, sit up & beg machine. The tide was just turning giving us plenty of time still to load B & E’s foldaway bikes in the fore cabin and my bike given the proud position of being lashed perfectly to the outside of the pushpit. Last opportunity to shop for a missing burgee and chemicals for the ‘portaloo’ which they had run out of, oh no, bucket & chuck it again! Brian was given some last minute info from a local boat owner describing how best to navigate leaving the Ribble Estuary.

Motoring up the channel required a constant lookout for flotsom, sometimes large trees floating towards us. I saw quite a few memorable sights having lived near the Ribble estuary and worked at British Aerospace which borders the river, I’ve often dreamed of looking from the outside in.

According to the instructions, we had to check the depth of water at the 11.5mile perch in order to ensure a safe passage over the gap in the South Training Wall. Apparently the level was high enough for us to sail over with no danger, phew! It seemed to take ages to get to the Gut Gas buoy and the open sea before we put up sails, I really must slow down, relax and get my mental clock more in tune with the sedate pace of sailing.

I’ve often said that I prefer to give Blackpool a wide berth and it doesn’t get much better than this. Watching the hectic holiday makers from a pleasurable distance we saw bungie jumpers, white knuckle riders, the Fleetwood-Blackpool trams and even sand castle builders. The Blackpool Tower however, does make a popular object for taking bearings.

Our destination was still unknown but after a quick lesson establishing a fix, there was just a possibility of reaching Piel Island before having to return to a port (to be decided) on the next high water. Up till now I had been at the helm and thought that I was a natural born expert but alas, it was my turn to make tea (part of the training) or was it decorating the cabin floor with the ingredients. While below, Elizabeth took the helm, tweaked the trim of the sails and immediately doubled our speed, amazing. Who’s the expert now then?

Soon we were having to negotiate rights of way with the passenger liners, cargo ships and a fishing trawler which seemed determined to get in the way, each time we altered course so did he. Just being sociable I guess. The Green Cross Code is far more straightforward.

By now we had probably been underway for about 5 hours, could still see Blackpool tower and it remained visible for another 2 hours or so. Then the outline of the castle on Piel Island appeared and so did something in the water close by, a basking shark? No, it was a lone seal popping up to say hello.

Progress was slow and we guessed there would be insufficient time to disembark on the island. Elizabeth steered us proficiently to a nearby mooring buoy with Brian retrieving the line and we all sat there staring at the pub, the castle, the pub (through binoculars), a single row of terraced houses then the pub again, drooling over the absent pint while drinking a nice hot cup of tea accompanied with lovely bread and soup. Never mind eh.

After storing this scene in the old grey matter with a view to returning, we seriously needed to set off back in order to catch the next high water. The conditions were ideal to start with but gradually deteriorated until there was practically no wind at all, it started to get hazy and then darkness fell. Re-crossing the shipping lines presented a few problems again, this time a dredger insisted on causing us to change course on several occasions and this continued all the way into Fleetwood harbour.

I tried my best for B&E to drop me on my doorstop at Skippool (just a 7 mile journey home) but with time running out it had to be Fleetwood. I found sailing into the harbour at night using the buoy lights quite entertaining including (dare I say it) we ran aground on the approach to the marina. It was then we saw the two unlit buoys immediately to port, fortunately Brian quickly reversed and steered between them just like a horse really, wanting to take a short cut home and avoiding the last fence.

It was about 23:00 hours by the time we moored and I had a few choices; 1. cycle the 10 mile journey home that evening, 2. phone Tanya to pick me up that evening, 3. sleep on the boat and get Tanya to pick me up first thing in the morning, or 4. sleep on the boat and cycle home in the morning. After the call and a bottle of beer pushed into my hand I chose No 4.

The heavens opened and woke us up early, good job I’m not a fine weather cyclist but no choice really anyway. After a last cup of tea, fond farewells, thanks for the brilliant experience and with no key to get out of the locked marina compound, we found a useful discarded ladder to get the bike and me over the fence and I disappeared into the torrential ‘rainset’. Loyalty prevails and I turned up for work on time, meanwhile B & E prepared for their trip to Ireland via the IOM. Why am I always the only one ‘in step’?

Smokey and I will be in Ireland one day!

GRAHAM PLATTS.