Wednesday was forecast to be a much better day with a F4/5 westerly to push us along towards Dartmouth, which would be a long sail of about 60 miles. We timed our departure after breakfast to ensure as far as we could that we would be rounding Start Point , just before Dartmouth as the tide turned east, so that we would have wind and tide together as we skirted the headland a few miles offshore, to miss the rough water closer in. In addition , we set a course which took us in near the Eddystone Light House, which would minimise the effect of contrary tide, and leave our options open to head for Plymouth as an alternative if we wished.

 

As we left Falmouth, the sun was actually shining, and stayed so doing for the almost the whole day, with clouds slowly clearing until we had a blue sky, which was a welcome change. It came at a price though. The F5 coming from the WSW was almost dead astern, and this is never particularly comfortable. After a few hours the swell steadily increased and the roll became more pronounced. This, coupled with the fact that Alan was feeling the effects, led to the fairly easy decision to make for Plymouth, and so shorten the trip. The wind was also staying at a good F5 and we were conscious of the gales forecast 'Later' in shipping forecast terms. Whilst this means 12 hours after the time the forecast was prepared, you never feel very good when several hours offshore hearing a forecast saying ' severe gale F9 later, high seas ( ie worse than very rough) and poor visibility.

 

We passed time listening to all the radio chatter on Ch 16. We were close to various firing range exercise areas, and began to wonder whether we should have listened to the news before we set off. First, a broadcast from some unpronounceable Russian warship that it was engaged in firing exercises, then the same from a very fearsome sounding lady RT operator on the German warship Carlsberg ( or so it sounded), who gave her position and stated that it would start live firing with a 10 mile range shortly...very much in the spirit of 'you have been warned, and I will repeat this only once'. We appeared to be outside the relevant area, and since we assumed the guns and radar were built very precisely by Germans we felt safe. Quite what we would have done if it had been the Italian warship Pizza Calabrese I am not sure.

 

We then heard much commotion relating to a surfaced submarine, and a mysterious vessel called Morgar, which we assumed was some form of range control patrol vessel, but it sounded like something out of Lord of the Rings. Whatever it was, it spent the afternoon hassling all and sundry as its friend the submarine kept going up and down. A typical broadcast would hail 'yacht at position xxxxx, this is Morgar, please respond'. Silence. Repeat several times with increasing agitation. Silence. Then ' white yacht Miranda, sail number 1234 at position xxxx, this is Morgar half a mile on your bow..respond' . This always seemed to wake up the said yacht and they then got told off on another channel.

 

Morgar took on almost mystical powers ...and clearly was terrifying some yachtsmen. One poor chap radioed that he was alongside a surfaced submarine and had not yet been contacted by Morgar.....had he been seen? Perhaps he feared the wrath of Morgar would soon engulf him.....

 

Then the rather more sobering lifeboat chat as a yacht got into trouble, but everybody was ok...then down with the sails as we approached Plymouth Sound, surfing in at some points on breaking waves. We then met the weirdest looking warship I have ever seen ( see pics) going back and forth in the entrance to Plymouth Sound, just to add to the fun of getting in. Perhaps it was one of Morgar's friends ?

 

We were then soon in the calm of the Sound behind the breakwater, and not long after tied up in Plymouth Yacht Haven Marina, where Moondog was going to be spending a few days as the crazy gales tore through the S Coast.

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