Last week we took a break from racing - and work - and cruised to Calais. We had an absolutely stunning trip down there in a north easterly. The weather forecast said 4 to 5, occasionally 6.
We didn't know exactly how much wind there was, as our wind instruments are currently back at Raymarine being repaired, but the sail plan was one reef in the main and a few turns in the headsail, so it was probably a good five, and we were off the wind and flying.
So we were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves when we arrived in Calais - to be met by a group of very miserable yachtsmen, British, Dutch and Danish, all waiting for a break in the weather to continue their travels.
Now, I fully accept that heading up the Dutch coast into a north easterly five would be not nearly as much fun as heading south from Harwich had been. But I do feel that people who have the chance to go long term cruising - as all these people were - owe it to the rest of us to be more appreciative of their good fortune!
Getting weather-bound is a fact of cruising life, especially in northern Europe, so you would expect them to have some sort of strategy for keeping themselves amused, even when totally frustrated by the weather.
As it was, they seemed to spend all day gathering in gloomy groups along the pontoon, endlessly discussing the latest forecasts (Calais has just introduced wi-fi, so those with laptops on board could download as many as they liked!), or congregating outside the harbour office, where the latest bulletins from Meteo France were displayed.
It was clear the weather wasn't going to change for a couple of days, until a thundery low had cleared, so why not just accept that they might as well stay there that long - and enjoy France? There are far worse places to be stuck, after all.
Even if you're on a limited budget, as many liveaboards are, and can't afford to sample all those great sea food restaurants, Calais has supermarkets full of excellent, affordable provisions, and lots of interesting places to go and see, by bike or bus.
We had a most enjoyable couple of days, anyway. Was it because we were on a severely restricted time scale, and conscious of the need to make the most of our visit? Is it a problem with long term cruising that it robs you of this mindset?
The storm duly arrived, as predicted, and there was one extremely wet night, when the rain battering on the coachroof and the crashing thunder made sleeping difficult. But it was dry by getting up time, and the wind had dropped at last. Everyone was finally talking about leaving.
The only problem with Calais as a cruising destination is that you can only enter or leave the marina for a couple of hours either side of high tide. We'd already missed the morning bridge openings. We thought of going in the afternoon.
But there was still a question mark about the visibility: not so serious for those heading on up the coast to Holland, but a big issue for us, planning to cross the Dover Straits. We walked out along the pier and watched a couple of cross channel ferries disappearing into the murk.
We decided to stay another night, but set the alarm clock for an early start the next morning - which was forecast to be better. When we woke, the sun was shining and the sky was sparklingly clear - as promised.
“What a lovely day!” I said, to one of liveaboards, who like us was untying ready to leave on the first bridge opening.
“Huh!” he grunted, dismissively. “It might be a lovely day if there was any wind to sail!”
Well, yes, it would have been better with some wind, but at least the damp, drizzly gloom and unseasonably low temperatures he had been moaning about for days had gone.
Shouldn't he have been a bit more grateful? After all, he still had a whole summer of sailing to look forward to, while we were the ones faced with getting back to go to work.
We had to motor all the way to Ramsgate, but when we arrived there it was seriously hot - summer at last! The next day, heading up to North Foreland, we finally ran into one of the fog patches the Shipping Forecast had been threatening ever since we'd left, five days before.
Fog is the one thing I really don't like, but we do have radar, and fortunately the visibility lifted by the time we were crossing the main shipping route into the Thames. It was another long motor, all the way home. But both of us were determined not to moan!
“I think actually it's the variety of weather that makes it so enjoyable when it is good!” said the skipper. And he has a very good point.
We're determined that, when and if we do finally have the opportunity to go off sailing for months at a time, we won't let ourselves get bored and miserable. And we will try to appreciate how lucky we are to have that freedom - whatever the weather!
