Our departure from La Rochelle could not have been more different - drifting conditions on a glassy calm sea; not the 12 knots then. We have come to view weather forecasting as more guesswork than science, since it rarely seems to concur with what we see around us much of the time. We mostly engined for the first day and night then, until the promised wind eventually appeared, and in the predicted direction (a point to the weather forecasters eventually). Engining downwind created a few issues, filling the cabin spaces with fumes which set off all the gas alarms - we were able to fully vent the boat once sailing and cancel the alarms.

With sails now set for downwind reaching, we picked up speed and mostly in the right direction. Setting our fishing lines, we came upon a shoal of tuna fish and rapidly pulled six in on the hand fishing line, before deciding we had sufficient for several days (10+ kg). The Hydrovane steering system was rigged and ran for some hours. During this time, we experimented with the settings with mixed results. There’s definitely an art to it which we will have to learn more about as we go, as there are so many little variations to try.

The ship’s log recorded that the barometer air pressure was beginning to fall around lunchtime on day two, and fell 10mb over the 10 hours as the wind increased from a steady 15 knots to 20+ in the early evening, backing into the predicted east direction (another point to the forecasters). We reefed the main sail in stages from one to eventually three reefs, and rolled away all three reefs in the headsail. Far from steadying out at 25 knots, and with the air pressure still falling, the wind increased steadily to 30 knots and more (nil points to forecasters). The seas at this stage began to really pile up, with a mix of wave direction from east and north, already several meters high, making steering a handful as night fell. The Hydrovane, at least our ability to adjust it, could not keep up. 

At 9 o’clock, Nigel and I set about steering in one hour shifts for what would be the next nine hours, resting in the leeward saloon seat when not steering (and being occaisionally soaked by one of those big waves rearing up over the windward side of the boat as we powered along at around eight knots). 

Overnight, conditions deteriorated further, as the wind increased to about 40 knots in the gusts (forecasters, you are having a laugh!) and regularly in the mid-thirties in between. These were testing times for boat and crew. Sally and Catherine stayed below and proffered hot drinks and snacks while we tried to keep Cassini flying toward Gijon. Safe to say it was a long night. 

Quite suddenly though, at about 5am, the wind dropped and for the last couple of miles we motored on in to Gijon. Arriving at 6am and totally exhausted by now, we got tied up alongside and slept for the next several hours. 

The boat held up very well. The only damage in the overnight storm conditions was a broken tie-wrap from one of the shackles, and the securing bar from the book case in the saloon which broke in one wild roll down a wave face and spilled the contents onto Catherine. 

The crew recovered sufficiently from their ordeal to enjoy an exploration of old Gijon in the afternoon, purchasing a new and very sharp filleting knife (justified to the finance committee by our now demonstrated fishing prowess!). We sampled a glass of wine and beer or two, and tucked into some of the tuna we’d caught, sharing several steaks with the two boats around us in the harbour - good to share when we had plenty. 

A good end to a very challenging crossing of Biscay.

Catching and filleting one of the tuna; and another yacht arriving in Gijon that were not so lucky (main sail shredded in background)!