After motoring all day yesterday, enjoying the sunshine and calm seas (though not the noise of the engines), today has been quite different.  A front came through; we rounded Start :Point in a lumpy sea; and my illusions about catamarans being stable platforms were shattered, as everything which could come loose and fall off, or force a locker door open and fall out, did so.  Our attempts to sail were not exactly successful; we motor-sailed.  But even there, we were thwarted by the fact that the port engine’s gearbox had yielded all its oil to gravity.  Tomorrow it is to be retrieved and filtered and re-used.  But for now we are moored in a very small marina called Southdown Marina in the Tamar River, Plymouth, instead of in Falmouth, our intended destination.  But how lovely it is to be in sheltered waters!  Why would anyone ever want to go to sea, when there are rivers.!

To be serious, tomorrow we need to attend to the engine, or find someone who can deal with it.  It’s an hydraulic V-drive gearbox and has given me plenty of trouble before this, but I believed it had been fixed.  At least, I had already paid plenty to have it fixed.  I’ll let you know the progress of repair …. but we are ever mindful of the fact we have an arrival date at our final destination: Lanzarote in the Canaries, a week before Christmas.  And yes!  I do know that fixed dates and boats are dangerous bed-fellows.

Our meal is ready.  Bill has cooked Bangers and Mash (with assistance from Mike) for us, while Davy is checking out the local pub, which turns out to be so un-local that he’s going to have to get a cab back to bring us some bottles of cider.  On which cheering note, I leave you.

“50:21.23N 004:11.71W”