Trimarans & Sailing
Trimaran information from
I am hoping to start giving Magnum 21 trimaran demonstrations soon, now that the weather seems a bit kinder. I shall be going south to London for the Head of the River Race on Saturday 20th March and hope to be able to fit in some demos around then.
Anybody keen to buy this year and wishing to have a demo should contact me by telphone on 0870 770 2728.
Check out the VirusBoats Magnum 21 - assembly instructions to find a new and better picture of how the cunningham should be used to tension the luff of the main sail. There is also a picture of how I used to recommend doing it which is now labeled as the WRONG way. Hope these help you.
I shall be fetching a Magnum 21 trimaran to London with me this coming weekend 19th-21st March 2004. I have four crews from Manchester University Boat Club rowing in the Head of the River Race on the Thames on Saturday afternoon and, as their head coach, I want to watch them perform. If the results are anything, like as good as last week's North of England Head then I shall be delirious.
There will be gaps in my weekend and if you would like to see the boat then contact me on 0870 770 2728 or my mobile 07 985 043 981 and we'll try to arrange to meet up.
VirusBoats have announced a new trolley for manually launching a Magnum 21 trimaran on soft sand. Price yet to be fixed but probably similar to the tractable launching trolley without suspension, brakes or lights.
This trolley is for those intending to keep their trimaran on or close to a beach where vehicles might get stuck on the soft sand or loose gravel.
I have created a new page about trailing the Magnum 21 trimaran. The pictures should be self explanatory and there are some comments that should help you to make the load safe for towing. The most important of these is how to secure the floats so that they do not come loose under heavy braking.
I shall be expanding this page as time permits.
You won't get to see a Magnum 21 from this angle very often. 
The crane driver remarked what lovely lines it has.
The show was a success with 15,000 visitors. But would have been an even greater success had it not uncharacteristically rained all weekend.
I gave a couple of good demonstrations over the weekend and had time to go out single-handed also. Max speed achieved was 11.8 knots in a good force 3.
I'll be at Rhos-on-Sea, Colwyn Bay, early on Sunday 16th for a demonstration of the Magnum 21. If you too would like a demo then get in touch with me on 0870 770 2728.
I never saw Colwyn Bay looking more Mediteranean than on Sunday last. There was no wind but a light haze and the Irish Sea looking like glass. With brilliant sunshine there was the likelyhood of a sea breeze later so we put the Magnum 21 together under the close supervision of some inquisitive local residents. After a short initiation to the boat with main and jib we got the gennaker out for a little more speed and set about the spinnaker. And sure enough as soon as we launched it the wind died away to nothing.
Fortunately the tide was running in the direction we wished to go so we drifted past Llandudno and half way along the Great Orme we could see that there was wind at the end of it. We fired up the motor so that we could catch it for a quick sail before it too died away.
We hurried past the old lighthouse made famous by Two Fat Ladies, caught up with the ripple on the water and sure enough we were able to do 3.5 knots running and eventually 5.6 knots reaching. We practised a few gybes then decided to head back as wives were phoning complaining that a dozen guests were expected in half an hour for a Bar-B-Q, which interestingly comes from French and not Australian. Les Francais would roast their pigs from beard to tail - barbe á queue.
The Gennaker proved a worthy sail for beating back but it was the wind that beat us eventually and we had to use the 6HP engine to give us 7.5 knots or we would never have got back at all.
The demonstration was completed with the successful tripping of the cleats holding the centre board and the rudder down when we strayed too far in land and went over some foul ground. Gave us all quite a fright but no damage was incurred. Very resassuring to have that extra metre of retractable draft so you can still sail away from trouble.
What a fantastic time we had on the Quiberon peninsula! The weather was pretty miserable virtually the whole time except for the day we all sailed from Port Haliguen to the island of Houat. Then it was brilliant sunshine with a good wind. We ran out and beat back, making about 6 knots in each direction. Not much opportunity for reaching but the little we did was exhilarating.
The hospitality was exceptional, as always, with a picnic on Houat and a hearty evening meal in a marquee accompanied by Breton music and followed by Breton dancing.
And yes, this was work. I had to go. I brought a new Magnum 21 demonstrator back with me and I have much to discuss with my French colleagues when I am there. Life is tough sometimes.
I shall be giving a demonstration of the Magnum 21 trimaran day boat this weekend in Porthmadog. The weather is not looking good for sailing on Saturday, light rain and virtually no wind. However, it looks good for Sunday, 10mph westerly wind and sunny. So it seems probable that we will sail to Harlech from Black Rock sands and back.
If you are considering buying a Magnum 21 and would like to join in please call me straight away on 0870 770 2728.
Good company, brilliant sunshine, a good wind and spectacular Welsh scenery: the perfect recipe for a good day sail. We were at Harlech in a jiffy and this seemed not to be nearly ambitious enough for a boat of this speed so we decided to sail past Mochras Point and on to Barmouth. It only took us a couple of hours in each direction with the wind from the WSW 2-3 increasing to 4 by the end of the day.
We had the gennaker out most of the time. Top speed reached was about 8 knots with five adults on board. We were doing about 4 knots just with the jib as we returned to Black Rock sands!
Smiles all round! :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)
I've just uploaded a few more pictures of the Magnum 21. They are in the last two rows at the bottom of the Magnum 21 in Action page.
Lots of spinnakers in evidence and the new striped gennaker.
The VirusBoats order book for March and half of April is already full. If you want a Magnum 21 for the beginning of the season please place your order NOW. It is only going to get busier of the coming months.
All you need to do is send your deposit of £3,000 to Ahoy-Boats and we will get your boat into the production queue. You can firm up on the specification later, though it is better if we know the colour at the outset and best if we know everything that you want on your boat.
You can even make your order subject to a satisfactory demonstration, as we have never lost a sale yet when a customer, who has placed a deposit, has had a retrospective demo.
Demonstrations will start immediately after the Birmingham show, which finishes on Sunday, the 20th Feb. To book a demo just call Ahoy-Boats on 0870 770 2728. As the weather is unpredictable a long way in advance demos can only be booked a few days in advance. Demos are always done by appointment only.
Why not pick up the phone today?
My latest customer has found a good deal at:
John Bannerman Ltd
Peek House
20 East Cheap
London
EC3M 1EB
Tel: 020 7929 3400
The section on trailing & launching within the galleries of the Magnum 21 section of the site has been improved with a few more pictures.
I shall be going to Cornwall for a reunion of my University rowing crew on the weekend of April 9th. If you come from that area and would like a demo of the Magnum 21 then PLEASE CALL ME on 0870 770 2728. I shall be bringing a Magnum 21 down with me from Chester and I can either arrive a bit early and demo on Friday or stay a bit longer and demo on Monday or even Tuesday if there are sufficient takers.
The tides being springs that weekend are not conducive to sailing from Padstow, near where I shall be staying, so I propose to sail from Falmouth using the town slip to launch the boat.
Driving along the A55 with dark grey clouds overhead after last night's electrical storm I was pleasantly surprised to discover sunshine and blue sky on arrival at Colwyn Bay. But I was also confronted with white horses and gusts from the south that would have blown the boat off its trailer had I attempted to launch from Rhos on Sea.
My customer arrived from the lake district at 10.30 and we decided that I should show him how to put the Magnum 21.S together and review the situation thereafter. The wind had gone down a notch so we elected to give it a whirl.
The launch went fine and we motored away from the pier and dropped anchor close inshore, where the wind was coming from. This was undoubtedly the easiest circumstance in which to hoist the main sail. We prudently took a reef.
We set sail in a lull and were running at 5 knots. Then with simultaneous shift in direction the first blow arrived and the centreboard started humming at 10 knots. Then the first gust arrived and we were doing 12 knots +. Then the spray obscured the GPS so we concentrated on staying upright.
The water was fairly cold and my customer wished he had done up his jacket properly! I was dry inside but soaking outside. From where I was sitting, at the helm, it was almost impossible to look forward.
We were quickly at the end of the bay and so we tacked and headed back to the pier. She was quite a handful in this force 6 with gusts up to force 7 occasionally. Not what the Magnum 21.S was designed for. This bigger sportier rig was designed to give you much more speed in lighter winds.
West of the pier, as we approached Rhos, the water was clearly more disturbed and the wind much stronger. A gust, probably now force 8, knocked us down. My customer, who fortunately was not a lightweight like me, was courageously hanging over the side of the windward float examining the underside of the hull and the centreboard.
I had to climb down into the bottom (side) of the boat to knock off the main sheet, which on reflection, I should not have had cleated in the first place. Not a moment too soon she came upright. We heaved a sigh of relief. This was too much wind for this sporty trimaran. My view is that it can be and definitely will be capsized by somebody, unlike the standard Magnum 21, which is much easier to control and has yet to be capsized. But then there are people who like sailing on the edge like this and it is for these people that the new version has been created.
Meanwhile on the shore, Nick, the harbourmaster's man, who had been watching us with envy, had his hand on his mobile phone ready to call for assistance. He was also eager to lay his hands on the bottle of Champagne that I had said I would buy him if we capsized this boat.
We had really been enjoying ourselves but decided to call it a day. We dropped anchor in the same place to lower the main without fuss. And motored back to the slipway. Just as I was about to go astern a gentle wave picked us up and we surfed onto the slipway.
It turned out that our maximum speed was just over 15 knots! Not surprising really.
With the 21.S out of commission we took the standard boat to Conway for an afternoon sail with a couple we had met the night before and their younger daughter, aged 6.
We had almost completed the rigging when the heavens opened. When the thunder started I cancelled the trip. Then the sky cleared and we changed out minds.
The tide was out and the Beacon slipway at Conway stops short of the water at low tide (even at neaps) but this was not a problem for the RAV4, especially as the Magnum 21 is so light.
We had a great sail out to beyond the Fairway buoy in light winds and on the way back when the wind had picked up sufficiently to create breaking crests and even white horses we found ourselves, all five of us, lying flat back on the trampoline whilst I read off the speed on the GPS, 10 knots, 11, 11.5, 12, 12.3, 12.5, 12.7 knots! In just a force 4 in the standard boat. What an inspriational design.
On Friday we drove along the North wales coast past our usual launch site in Colwyn Bay, past Caernarfon and onto the beautiful little fishing village of Porth Dinllaen on the Lleyn Peninsula. The cottage we were staying in with friends was right on the beach and vehicular access was not possible at high spring tides.
However, when we arrived with the Magnum 21 trimaran the tide was half way in and we were able to negotiate our way onto it. Not something I would have tried with a two wheel drive car.
Unfortunately, as forecast, the wind blew up from the NW on the Saturday. Whilst we have sailed in the Magnum 21 in conditions like this and had an exciting time, the prospect of taking a novice crew including a 10 year old boy on his first trip filled me with forboding so we went for a walk instead.
What a spectacular place.
On Sunday the wind was the same, again, as forecast, so we took the Magnum 21 to Pwllheli. This is the advantage of a trailer sailer, especially one so light and easy to assemble as the Magnum 21. I intend to keep the CATRI 24 at Pwllheli when it arrives so it was worthwhile going there to view the facilities.
From here we sailed to Abersoch in a good force 5. We took one reef. The water was cold and we got soaked. It was like having buckets full of cold water thrown over us. But then we were doing 13 knots at times and it is diffcult to stay dry in any boat at this speed.
At Abersoch we anchored close to the beach, ate our sandwiches and Welsh cakes and nearly dried out or should I say thawed out in the sunshine. Always remember to raise the centreboard and rudder when anchoring like this. I forgot and we had a couple of moments with the anchor warp. No great drama though.
Then we flew back to Pwllheli at speeds between 8 and 12.5 knots where everybody agreed they had had a great time. Smiles all round.
Sue and I disassembled the boat and we were back in Porth Dinllaen for afternoon tea.
I woke up this morning to glorious sunshine but the forecast was full of foreboding! Wind force 4-7 from the west with 5-8 later & rain, of course. Normally I would not go sailing in these conditions, let alone give a demonstration. I want my customers to have a pleasant experience. But today's customer had not only already booked his ferry from Northern Ireland, he and his wife were already here. And besides he was concerned about how the Magnum 21 would fair in these sort of conditions; conditions, which he is very likely to encounter back home in Bangor.
So we chose to go out on Bala lake in North Wales, instead of my usual Rhos-on-Sea. When we arrived the sky was dark grey and the water had white horses all over it, despite the relatively short fetch (the whole length of the lake). In these conditions the CAT club at the western end of the lake is an excellent place to launch from so we drove there in convoy.
We took both of the reefs available in the standard boat (that I had recommended he purchase because of his situation, the S version being too powerful for a retired gentleman, single handing in the Irish Sea!) and the boat behaved impeccably, as I had predicted. Without the GPS on board I knew when she hummed that we were going over 10 knots, though I don't know what maximum speed we reached. We were playing safe in any case, not trying to break any records or the boat or ourselves. There was no drama and we had an enjoyable sail despite being soaked through with the rain.
"That's a serious piece of kit you've got there. You emphasise that it's FUN but I've never sailed such a soft and forgiving boat." Other such compliments were heaped upon the boat, easy to tack, light and responsive tiller, etc. and after soup and tea in a nearby café we attached the trailer to his vehicle and he drove off with his new mistress promising me more orders from his friends in the north.
NEW FOLD AWAY MAGNUM 21
At the Paris Boat Show VirusBoats have anounced some exciting developments in the Magnum 21 trimarans. The main thing is a dramatic improvement in the packing of the boat, which will reduce the time required for assembly by about half. This is in keeping with the VirusBoats philosophy that boating time should be maximised and rigging time minimised. The floats are no longer to be stowed on top of the principle hull and secured with straps. Now, with the new system, the floats are simply pushed along the beams and up against the main hull and the tubes are then removed in seconds. Watch this video clip of the Magnum 21 trimaran being folded.
This folding system will also be used on the 2006 Magnum 21.S trimarans. The old system of strapping the floats on top of the boat for transportation will still be available as a no cost option for those who anticipate problems with narrow access.
Other improvements in the boat are to the hatches, both the forward one and the aft one.
The new racing rudder made from fibreglass has arrived and VirusBoats have at last come up with a way of cleating the spinnaker sheet that is easy to release. Up till now the company has always said that if you cannot hold onto it then you have too much sail up. Whilst this was safe it was frustrating to those who wanted more performance. This new cleat may be retrofitted.
Finally I took a photo of the lazybag to show the correct method of securing it.
The 2006 price list is now available. To gain access to this please contact us. I like to know that you are enquiring about the boats I sell and if possible to have a chat about them with you.
The VirusBoats MAGNUM 21 trimaran was nominated for the IPC Media "Innovative Boat of the Year Award". The results were announced at the 2006 London Boat Show on January 6th and the award went to a motor boat, sadly.
I know its not strictly folding, more a sort of squeezing the trimaran. Perhaps some kind person can offer me a more appropriate term to describe the 2006 method of putting the Magnum 21 away. Anyway here is a better quality, brighter, video clip of the process than the one I uploaded in December.
As you can see it is very simple. All that is required next is to close the clamps onto the float and you can drive away. No lifting, no strapping on, no checking and double checking. This is definitely in line with the VirusBoats philosophy of ease of assembly and ease of use leading to an increase in use of your boat.
Yesterday we took advantage of one of the greatest assets of the Magnum 21 trimaran, its trailerability.
It was 29 degrees in Chester so we decided to go sailing at Colwyn Bay along the North Wales coast, only about an hours drive away, even in the heavy traffic.
When we got there the sky was a threatening grey, the visibility was poor with high humidity and rain over the sea. We could just make out the sun was still shining on the Great Orme. A glance at the outside temp revealed a cold front. It was only 22 degrees. A little further on it was raining and the temperature was only 18 degrees! We kept driving.
We tired to contact some people we knew further away in Wales to get an idea of the weather but coudn't so we rang the Marine Call weather service. What a great service. The forecast for the West Wales Coast was good and we should be on the other side of the Snowdonia mountain range so hopefully out of the rain.
At Porthmadog we missed the turning for Black Rock Sands but then stumbled upon Criccieth. What a lovely little town. An accessible slipway with virtually nobody using it. One yacht moored for lunch in the bay. Calm water. Sunshine. A magnificent view. By the time we had had lunch and assembled and launched the trimaran with the sea mirror flat there was still enough wind to sail out of the bay at 3 knots. Then with the spinnaker we were able to achieve speeds of almost six knots. This in a westerly just force 1 to 2. It was scorching hot in the late afternoon.
We stopped out near the Porthmadog fairway buoy by furling the jib and letting go of the tiller so that she looked after herself and then practiced reefing. Later with a slightly stronger breeze, now from the NNW we were able to beat back to Criccieth at the same speed, about 5.5kn. It was an ideal day for training my novice crew.
On the way home we drove again through Colwyn Bay where they had evidently had torrential downpours and localised flooding. If we had had a boat on a mooring at Conway, say, we would have had a miserable day. as it was, we only had to drive another 3/4 hour further with the Magnum 21 and we had a great day.
I shall be showing a beautiful Red and White Magnum 21S similar to this classic Magnum 21 at the boat show this year. It will have a gennaker like this and a bowsprit ready for a spinnaker, should you want one. You can buy it now or wait till you see it at the show, provided nobody has beaten you to it. It is the latest model with the new quick and easy assembly system.
Show starts on Friday 16th at 10.00 am (for those who prefer to pay more for a quiet day at the show along with the press). Normal prices from Saturday till the show closes on Sunday 24th.
My existing demonstrator is for sale at a good discount. See boats for sale.
Tomorrow I intend to sail around Anglesey in a Magnum 21 trimaran. We'll be launching into the Menai Straits at 0645 and setting off from Beaumaris Pier promptly at 0700 so that we pass through the Swellies between the bridges at HW slack.
We should be squirted out of the Abermenai narrows W of Caernarfon at about 0900 and intend to stop for lunch at Trearddur Bay between 1100 and 1300. Should pass the Stacks around 1400 and Carmel Head at approx 1500.
Then it's Point Lynas about 1615, Puffin Island 1800 and Beaumaris again at 1830 all being well.
This is the tale of an Englishman, an Irishwoman and a Scotswoman sailing around a Welsh Island in a French boat. Strictly speaking a boat built in Britanny, which is Celtic. And of course the Welsh are Celts, the Scots are Celts and the Irish are Celts. So I was the odd one out. But then England is really AngleLand and Anglesey is really Angle's Eye, short for EyeLand or Island as we now spell it. Of course the Welsh call it Ynys Mon and I guess they were there before the Angles.
On Friday evening upon arrival in beautiful Beaumaris, one of my favourite places in the whole world, I scanned the sky at lamp-post height to determine if there were any overhead wires. There were none. So I erected the mast of the Magnum 21 trimaran that I had brought with me from Chester, safe in the knowledge that the short, early-morning drive to the slipway from the carpark would not end in electrocution!
After dinner I spent the night at the, aptly named, Sailor's Return, a local inn. Chef provided me with a packed breakfast, as I was going to be up long before he was.
0615 and Jackie (the Irish one) is already here. 0630 Irene, the Scot, arrives with her husband, David, and we make our final preparations for our adventure.
As we should be passing underneath the Menai suspension bridge at 0730 we needed to depart at 0700 but with one thing and another, including forgetting to mount the rudder, we eventually left at 0715. That was OK. With a knot of tide assisting us we were soon looking backwards at Gallows Point with Irene clutching the "Fearsome Passages" book by David Rainsbury.
Next up was Bangor Pier. Jackie lived just by the pier when she was a student at Bangor. I used to row past it when I was a student at Bangor 10 or more years earlier. It has been lovingly restored since I was there and the café at the end serves great scones but not at 0720. Worth a detour any other time.
The visibility was poor, as forecast, but, as yet, there was no sign of the southerly wind that had tempted me to undertake this excursion.
As we passed the UCNWBC Boat House, where I spent most of my time when I should have been studying electronics at Bangor, a yacht appeared in front of us, heading also for the centre of the famous Telford suspension bridge. Great! We had a guide. And we were arriving at the correct time. My tidal calculations had been right after all!
David was beside the bridge to take a photo as were swept through by the "slack" tide whilst I lay on the foredeck attaching the gennaker furler. There was no need to waste time ashore putting sails up before our departure when we had two hours of motoring at the start of the voyage.
Irene recited the instructions from "Fearsome Passages" for our westward passage through one of the most feared stretches of water in the world, THE SWELLIES! Beneath us was a rugged underwater mountain range that creates the whirlpools referred to in the name of the local village with the longest place name in the UK, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, meaning: St Mary's church in the hollow of the white hazel near the rapid whirlpool of St Tysillio's church, by the red cave.
The heights of the bridges were determined by the Admiralty so that British men o' war might pass through unhindered so it seems appropriate that watching over our progress should be the statue of Lord Horatio Nelson, our greatest Admiral.
On the mainland (left) side of the Britannia bridge you can just discern that the yacht immediately ahead of us is still on the transit provided by two white lattice beacons and is about to turn towards the middle of the arch, as it is alongside the pyramid beacon on the shore. The yacht in the lead has already turned towards the centre of the arch.
Safely through we simply followed the channel towards Port Dinorwic passing the Marquis of Anglesey's palacial residence on the starboard side, and the Plas Menai sailing centre on our port side. It was around this time that Jackie revealed to us that sailing around Anglesey was on her list of things to do before she dies; as she'd nearly died attempting to canoe around Anglesey when she was a young and foolhardy 18 year old student. I knew this story already but it was fun listening to Irene dragging it out of Jackie, morsel by morsel, as we sailed on.
Caernarfon soon hove into view.
I only recently discovered from a new road sign near Abergele that Caer is Welsh for Chester, so the Welsh towns like Caerphilly and Caerwent, equate to the English towns such as Winchester and Gloucester.
At Caernarfon we stopped to put up the mainsail. The sun was now shining brightly and it was suddenly warm so I had to strip down to my base layer. Then with the main sail up yet still no sign of wind but nevertheless with 4 knots of tidal stream we were squirted out through the narrows that separate Newborough Warren from Fort Belan. At this point, Abermenai, the straits change suddenly from treacherous sand banks to a narrow, fast-moving, vertical column of water that is 20 metres deep. It all sounds much worse than it actually was. With no wind there are no waves and on deep water at least one is not going to hit the bottom.
We picked our way though the remaining buoys towards the infamous Caernarfon bar, our second of the fearsome passages written about by David Rainsbury. Fortunately owing to the lack of wind the bar was as smooth as a baby's bottom. Instead of turning to port at the penultimate buoy we headed straight on towards Llanddwyn Island, which is all but connected by an isthmus to Newborough, if I remember correctly from the day that I once sunbathed there as a student.
Now,at last, the wind arrived as we passed Malltraeth Bay and we were able to switch off the engine for the first time. Peace! We unfurled the gennaker and sailed at about 5 knots with two other yachts following behind a little more slowly. We decided that we had enough time to sail into Aberffraw Bay and to have a coffee break before we gybed to run out of the bay. Whilst we were there the two yachts overtook us. But we caught them up again, now with our spinnaker deployed.
We bye-passed Rhosneigr to save time as we were slipping behind schedule and when we got close to Rhoscolyn Head it was clear that we had an opportunity to sail past the narrow entrance to the bay and then between the head and some rocks off shore with a beacon on them. This was great fun and emboldened us for even closer encounters with rocks later on.
Soon we had the spinnaker down because the wind had died altogether and with the engine on again we made quicker progress towards Trearddur Bay but the wind picked up again and with the blue and white gennaker out we made a colourful sight as we approached a canoeist fishing. He told us he had caught loads of pollock but put them all back. He'd nowhere to put them anyway, I thought.
Irene phoned David who was easily able to identify us from the rocky shore and there was much waving. The wind was from the North East! Not the south. So we had to beat into the bay.
We ignored the sailing club entrance on our right, heading instead for the shallow bay on the north side reserved for jetskis and ribs.
But it was very confined, too crowded and too shallow (the centreboard popped up and we just managed to maintain steerage) so we quickly turned tail and made for the main beach, where there was plenty of space. A few tacks later and we were ashore, but not before I had nearly fallen in, demonstrating how one could lean against the jib! Silly me. The slider securing the inboard end of the jib sheet was not fully out. I should have checked first.
Euan and Ailsa were there with David to greet mummy. And Irene's Dad too. We arrived at 1300, which was the time I had set for departure, so after a quick toilet break we sailed off again.
On the beach, ready for departure, as usual, the Magnum 21 generated interest as, still, so few people have ever seen one.
With the gennaker out we were soon being told by Irene that the gap in the cliffs that all the boats and jetskis were coming from led to a lovely beach called Dafarch. It was impossible to see this entrance until we had passed it. Irene lives at Trearddur Bay so everything was that much more interesting to her to see from the sea instead of from the land. She was keen to point out to us a place where a water spout comes up in the middle of a field on stormy days.
On the next corner were some rocks known as The Fangs. You can imagine from the name what these might be like when the tide is running fast and there is a strong wind. One would definitely give them a wide berth. But the wind was light and the tide was flowing slightly but not dangerously. Just enough to show us if there were any rocks beneath. So I switched on the Garmin GPS276C with its intergrated charts and seeing that we had enough water we sailed between The Fangs.
Almost immediately afterwards we looked north to see the famous South Stack lighthouse.
Time for Jackie to expand on the story of how she spent a night in a cave there and wrote out her last will and testament! And how the fact that the lighthouse was manned in those days had saved her life. She had put on her headphones and was playing music to herself to drown out the awful noise of the surf crashing on the rocks around her little sea canoe. The lighthouse keeper saw her plight and directed her towards the gap in between the South Stack and the mainland of Anglesey. She shot through to safety.
I had calculated that if we had been fortunate with the wind and arrived off South Stack at 1100 then there would have been 4 kn of tide against us! But at 1330 it was all but slack. Nevertheless changes in the water were clearly visible at the overfalls and we recalled the time that we had come and looked at a gale here last summer. Thank goodness it was not like that now.
But now the wind was coming from where we wanted to go. Two yachts passed by under power on their way to Holyhead. We tacked and tacked and gingerly made our way towards North Stack but we were losing time and I elected to start the engine and set a direct course for Carmel Head, the third Fearsome Passage! Sightings of the Skerries came and went in the murky air. The fastest car ferry in the world came out of Holyhead and headed off towards Ireland. We motored through her wash and then her wake. The tide was picking up and we were making 10 knots over the ground and, of course, with the wind against the tide we experienced a little chop, the first and last of the day.
Even this close to Carmel Head we could not make out the Skerries through the haze. Then suddenly I spotted a white lighthouse, seemingly in the sky. Jackie was at the helm and Irene was relaxing alternately on the port trampoline and then on the starboard one as we moved around the boat taking photos of each other!
Then when we were almost at the Head we were able to pick out West Mouse, a tiny rock with a beacon on it. At this point the sea usually gets rougher but it was really benign on this occasion and nothing to what I've been through in this capable little trimaran before.
In the nineteenth century the news of the arrival of ships off Carmel Head used to be passed to Liverpool by a semaphore system in just 5 minutes! Nobody seemed to be watching as we passed by.
The next landmark was Wylfa nuclear power station, which, Irene told us, she had been around. However, one would have difficulty getting to see inside it these days! The Aluminium plant at Holyhead, where her husband, David, works, saves a fortune in electricty transmission losses by being sited so close to this power station. When Wylfa closes down, the Aluminium plant will have to source its electricity, at the right price, elsewhere. That it is possible to do this is one of the advantages of the open market system for purchasing electricity, I guess.
Still motoring into the wind. Occasionally we try the jib to see if we can sail in this direction but we can't. The main sail stays up so that we can be seen. Middlemouse is upon us, the biggest of the three mice. I check the chart to see if there are any anchorages but it is just a rock. So much for the southerly wind. We've seen none of it. We are making good progress though with this tide. I was never concerned about being a bit behind schedule because the tidal flow was always going to be increasing and helping us to catch up.
However, I am concerned about fuel. I check the tank. Plenty. If things get critical we can always pull in somewhere and David can meet us with some petrol in a can. He's found that he has got one.
There is some pretty rugged scenery along this exposed coast. These cliffs hid some old industrial works.
Soon we were passing East Mouse off Amlwch.
I used to see buses to Amlwch when I lived in Bangor and wondered what it was like. The rather utilitarian looking harbour (behind Jackie's laughing head) was built because of an oil pipeline that was used to pump oil to Stanlow (Ellesmere Port) in the days of supertankers when the Suez Canal was closed and it was only economical to sail around the Cape of Good Hope with very large ships. These ships were too large get up the Mersey so a pipeline was built from Amlwch and covered over so that you would never know it is there.
Spirits are high as we are now only a mile from Point Lynas, which you can just see looking like a white "castle in the air" behind me. There is a 19th century semaphore station at Point Lynas that would have been visible in good weather from the Great Orme and there is a jetty around the corner that used to be used by the Liverpool Pilots who were stationed in a hostel there for a week at a time during the 20th century. I guess that GPS has largely seen the demise of the pilot profession.
As we draw near we can see the change in the water that implies there is an overfall and as we race around the point I catch sight of our next objective, Ynus Dulas, a small rock with a beacon on it. But as we turn towards it we slip out of the stream and our speed drops from 9 something to 6 something knots. We still have quite a distance to go and cannot afford this loss of speed as we might run out of fuel so I quickly decided to abandon the plan of hugging the coast and opt to sail directly towards Puffin Island and stay in the current. Irene, at the helm, asks for a course to steer but I have not worked one out yet and it is not that important as we can all see from the look of the water where to go. Irene, who is an experienced slalom canoeist understands immediately and gamely picks up the trail of turbulent water.
We make a few simple calculations and set a course of 120 degrees initially. I check the fuel again. OK. And reduce the revs on the engine a little to ease consumption. I set the GPS scale so that Penmon Light is on the screen, Point Lynas gradually fades from view and we settle down to some navigation instead of pilotage.
After a while I took the helm and the girls chatted on either side of the mast. We had found early on that putting one or two people in the bows gave us and extra 1/2 to 3/4 knot. After watching the GPS for about half an hour I adjusted our course to 135 degrees and after an hour we began to see land again on the starboard side.
Eventually we spotted the famous lighthouse that marks the NW entrance to the Menai Strait. The green bouy was easy to see but it took the eagle-eyed Irene to spot the red pillar buoy that marked the port side of the entrance.
Not long afterwards we could see the water change yet again. And a quick glance at the chart revealed sudden changes in depth from 14m to 5m and then back to 17m again.
Irene had never seen Puffin Island before, even though she lives in Anglesey. So I took this photo of it and her.
Sadly there are no longer any Puffins on the Island, rats having eaten all the eggs some considerable time ago, so I believe. Nevertheless it is a bird sanctuary and special permission is required to visit it.
The red beacon sitting on Perch Rock on our port bow indicates the limit of safe water, that to the left of it drying out up to 4.7m above chart datum. So we are swept though the channel and it is just possible to hear the bell on the lighthouse above the sound of the engine. It would be quite eery in fog.
Just at this point Jackie spots a dolphin's fin breaking the surface. I saw and tried in vain (as usual) to photograph it and Irene missed it. In the excitement I had to remind Jackie, who was helming, to keep an eye on where we were going!
Now we're in the pool and on the home run, picking up every buoy along the way like professionals. We pass the radio masts that are conveniently in transit with Penmaen Swatch, a short cut to Penmaenmawr, and in no time at all we are phoning David to get him out of the fish and chip shop to record the moment of our arrival, 1930, only an hour after our original ETA. Not bad.
And there is still enough light for dismantling our trusty vessel the Magnum 21 trimaran.
Conclusion
What a great day out! The only disappointment being the wind and the visibilty or rather the lack of both. Normally when sailing anywhere on Anglesey there is wind and normally there are spectacular views of the mountains of Snowdonia to the south, of the Lleyn Peninsula in the west and Great Ormes Head in the east. None of these were visible today.
On the plus side, the weather was pleasantly warm even though the sea was cold and we were able to establish just how economical the Tohatsu engine is. We still had a quarter of a tank left at the end so I reckon we could have got right the way round without touching the sails, though I would not like to have cut it that fine. The boat performed impeccably and sailed with good speed in the light airs yet it is built for much sterner conditions and it would have been fun to have sailed faster. In these conditions it was certainly not stressful and it was a good opportunity to discover Anglesey and the oft treacherous waters around it. And of course we enjoyed each others company tremendously. Day sailing at its best in the ultimate day boat, the Magnum 21 trimaran.
Statistics
Planned route: 68.6 nm
Actual distance covered: 70.67 nm
Max Speed: 11kn
Moving Average Speed: 6kn
Moving time: 11hrs 48min
Total time: 12hrs 30mins
Fuel consumed: 9.6 litres
Equipment
Magnum 21 trimaran
14m2 Main sail
6m2 Jib
16m2 Gennaker
24m2 Sppinnaker
5HP Tohatsu 4 stroke outboard motor
Tools for outboard motor (not used)
Anchor with rode (not used)
Spare rope for painter (not used)
Flares in cannister in stern locker (not used)
Hand pump (not used)
Handheld VHF Radio (ICOM IC-M21) in stern locker (not used)
Spare battery pack for radio (in dry bag in forelocker) (not used)
Garmin GPS 72 (used throughout, mainly as a log to display speed but also to record track). This runs on 2 AA batteries.
Garmin GPS276C including charts. This has its own battery pack that was fully charged before departure but for which we had no on-board means of recharge so this was only used occasionally during the trip to conserve the battery.
Paper charts
Portland Course Plotter (not used)
2 pencils with rubbers
Reeds Nautical Almanac (used only in planning)
FEARSOME PASSAGES by David Rainsbury
Plastimo compass mounted in the boat (could be demounted for taking bearings but it never was)
VION AXIUM 2 Handbearing compass (not used)
7x50 binoculars with built in compass and rangefinder (not used)
8x21 compact binoculars (not used)
Clockwork Torch (not used)
SILVA M4 Head Torch including red light (not used)
Pair of pliers
Rechargeable air horn including pump (not used)
Skymaster digital barometer/anomometer (not used)
Spare AA batteries (2 used only)
Digital Camera
Mobile phone in waterproof case (not used)
2 other mobiles
Plastimo life jackets
Hats and gloves all round
Lots of layers of clothing and waterproofs
Lots of sandwiches and snack bars, water and hot coffee in flasks
Toilet paper (not used)
35mm camera (not used)
Irene's sunblock (much used!)
I'm going to be sailing around Caridgan Bay on Saturday from top to bottom in the Magnum 21 trimaran. We will be leaving Black Rock Sands around 10am and staying overnight in New Quay, Ceredigion, before returning on Sunday.
The weather is perfect for doing this, with a fresh easterly breeze. We shall be staying fairly close in shore to take in the spectacular scenery and may stop briefly at Barmouth, Aberdyfi, Aberystwyth and/or Aberaeron, depending upon our progress and how the mood takes us.
We learned a lot about the effect of the local topography upon wind last weekend. I'd looked at the forecast thinking, "How great, an east wind. That means, as the wind will be coming from the shore and the fetch will therefore be relatively short, the waves will be slight and we'll be able to go really fast all the way." How wrong I was!
The day started inauspiciously enough with a quick and easy assembly of the Magnum 21 trimaran.
Pretty soon we were sailing past Harlech.
So far so good. Warm sunny day. Clear air. Good breeze and the spectacular backdrop of the Welsh mountains of Snowdonia. What could be better?
We intend to drop into Barmouth and within an hour we are sailing past Mochras Point according to plan. We've the gennaker out as we are broad reaching with the wind from the NE. But as we sail along Morfa Dyffryn the wind heads us so, down comes the gennaker and we sail with just the main and jib. The nearer we get to Barmouth the stronger the wind becomes. It is a katabatic wind coming out of the estuary, which is behaving like a giant megaphone for the air that has cooled at the top of the mountains and rushed down the hills and followed the river Mawddach as though it were rain! There are white horses everywhere now and it is clear that we are going to lose a lot of time on our journey to New Quay if we insist on dropping into Barmouth so I elect to abandon that idea and we bear away. Speed is soon above 10 knots. In fact we hit 12.6 knots somewhere along the way.
We have a clearing line to keep our eye on that involves keeping a backward eye on Barmouth. Whilst I helm and keep the boat under control Sue combines the task of observing the Barmouth Churches astern with the avoidance of splashes of water in her face. Just as we're coming to the rocks that we have to clear, we are going so fast that the rudder pops up. No problem. Quick adjustment and we're off again. But it's clear that the conditions have become more severe and we need to take a reef.
So we furl the jib and take our first reef.
We clear Pen Bwch point and quickly realise that instead of the wind abating, it is getting stronger. The sea is alive with white horses so we take another reef. Needless to say I am not taking photos at this point.
The waves are getting bigger, about 1m from peak to trough. They are coming from the side, directly out of Aberdovey (Aberdyfi). Things are a bit scary as, in a trimaran, we are not used to heeling. But with a freeboard of about a metre and the righting moment only coming from the leeward float, which is at the bottom of a wave, and the danger of a gust getting under the windward trampoline I decide to take the sails down altogether and take stock.
First we have to furl the jib and Sue is having undue difficulty with this (which turns out later to be due to the thimble at the foot of the forestay having cut through the line tieing the tack of the jib down but we don't know this yet) so I run down wind until we can furl it together.
We take down the main and try the engine. It starts OK. Japanese. But there is so much cavitation that we are not going to be able to make any useful way with it. We try heading against the waves directly in towards Aberdyfi but it is hopeless. We cannot keep her under any meaningful level of control with the engine repeatedly coming out of the water. It is low tide anyway so crossing the bar would be difficult if we ever got anywhere near it.
I consider a MayDay but we are not in grave and imminent danger. Just a bit uncomfortable. So we try sailing with just the jib. It is a sailing boat we are in, after all, and I've done eleven knots on just the jib previously.
It works OK and Sue asks where to aim for. The most obvious landmark is the TV mast just south of Aberystwyth so we head for that. We have a cereal bar each to help keep energy levels up. The luff of the jib is somewhat curved because now we do not have the mainsail behind the mast pulling the mast backwards. So the get a better shape in the jib I remove the mainsheet from the mainsail and tie it to the main halyard and pull the mast backwards with the mainsheet. This is much better.
We change places and Sue sets about tidying up the main sail whilst I see how high we can point. It seems that the further we travel past Borth the higher we can point and there is a good chance we can make Aberystwyth just on the jib.
I'm scanning the horizon to seaward and think I can see a sail. I look again but - nothing. Then it's there again. It's grey. Then it's gone again. What is it? It is not on the horizon; it is above the horizon. It's a flying fish. "It's a dolphin!", I exclaim. "Look." "There's a dolphin swimming towards us and it's jumping into the air every now and then to check that it is coming in the right direction."
"Where?", says Sue, all excited.
"Over there." I nod. But it doesn't reappear.
Under the strain of the waves and wind our boat is creaking and groaning and clicking much like a dolphin would. It must have heard us though the water.
Then all of a sudden there are three dolphins swimming and jumping and diving all around us. It's amazing how they seem to know when you need your spirits uplifting.
For twenty minutes they play with us and entertain us then they quietly slip away.
We are definitely going to make Aberystwyth on this tack. No need to change anything. We just need to check the charts for dangerous rocks and get the binoculars out to see where the best place to land will be. We elect for the middle of the beach. As we get nearer and nearer the wind becomes calmer and calmer so that by the time we arrive we have all but stopped and one would have wondered why we were rigged as we were.
We're ready for a cup of tea and a toilet break and it is now after 4. We've been out there a long time.
People are sunbathing on the beach and we look distinctly over dressed. After holding the Magnum 21 in the surf for a while we eventually let her go out a little with the anchor on the beach. But although the waves are slight and no indication of the roughness of the sea further out the boat is wallowing in rather gritty sand and, when we get back in to depart, my fears of a seized centreboard are realised. We have seen this happen once before, at Carnac in France, where the sand is also gritty. Not the end of the world. A minor inconvenience.
I've brought no tools with me, as we need none for assembly and rigging, and the only tool one needs to access the centreboard is a Philips-head screwdriver but I have left it in the car at Black Rock Sands. But hey, we are going to be sailing downwind from here to New Quay so we don't need the centre board! After a sandwich we sail on.
We pass by the TV mast we've been heading towards and find ourselves running downwind, not particularly fast and as the evening progresses we feel the need to start the engine so that we can arrive at New Quay before dark. I phone Angela at our bed and breakfast, "Summat Else", to tell her we are still on our way and she kindly agrees to book us into a local restaurant overlooking the harbour.
Now we are surfing waves that are going in the same direction as we are and going pretty fast, 8-10 knots, with just the main up and the engine on. We check the charts to discover the flash sequence of any lights we might see emanating from Aberaeron or New Quay before it becomes so dark that we cannot read the charts (although I have head lamps if we need them). But it is not that dark yet and through the binoculars we can see a day boat ahead with brown sails approaching the harbour and showing us the way.
There is enough light to take a tour of the bay before plumping for a bit of beach adjacent to the lifeboat station and Angela is there to greet us. How kind. Her husband, Kit, has been watching us approach with his binoculars from his bedroom window.
We're whisked off to the Hungry Trout where we have the most excellent fish for supper and then walk on our shaky sea legs to our 4 star B&B, where we crash out after a welcome shower and are asleep in seconds.
After a great breakfast at Summat Else we were taken by Kit in his car to the harbour at New Quay where our Magnum 21 trimaran was moored in the morning sunlight.
We'd turned up at the same state of tide that we'd left the boat the night before so that I could wade out to it before the tide went out and fix the centreboard with the aid of a screwdriver that Kit lent me. Sue (left) and Kit (right) chatted meanwhile with a lifeboatman from the adjacent lifeboat station.
With some care we extracted ourselves from amongst the web of mooring ropes lying round about and I realised the value of the oarlock at the stern. Shame we had no oar with us!
We anchored just a little way out to hoist the main sail and I took a series of shots that I later combined into this panorama of New Quay.
Kit photographed our departure into the haze that had engulfed Cardigan Bay.
A lone dolphin saw us off from New Quay and we quickly left behind the other two yachts that were leaving at the same time as we were, even though we were pointing more upwind than they were. We headed for the furthest point of land that we could see. This was our strategy all along the coast, so each time we could see make out a new point we turned towards it. This meant that we were never more than 3 miles from land.
When we were alongside the TV mast that had been a major landmark for us the day before we stopped for something to eat.
A little further on was Aberystwyth. This time we passed it by.
Next after Aberystwyth we could see Borth, then Aberdovey and Tywyn.
But it was very diffcult to make out what we were looking at. This is how it looked through binoculars. Click on it.
The red building on the top of the hill on the extreme right is the Aberystwyth cliff railway. The valley is that of Afon Clarach. To the left of the land that is in the foreground, just on the horizon, are some white houses. This is Borth. Aberdovey is not really visible at this stage and neither is Tywyn. But the farthest point of land visible, where the mountains slip imperceptibly into the sea, must be Pen Bwch Point.
When we got to Pen Bwch Point the wind was fresh and we had 20 minutes of excellent sailing at about 12 knots in fairly calm water. Then when we came alongside Barmouth the wind dropped suddenly and almost completely.
So we started the engine and motor-sailed to St Patrick's causeway before abandoning the sails altogether in complete calm. Somebody was anchoring a yacht on the glassy water in full view of Harlech castle. We left the main sail up to keep ourselves conspicuous and took the jib sheet off in preparation for our final arrival at Black Rock Sands. But blow me if the wind didn't get up again as we passed the Porthmadog estuary. Another Katabatic wind. So with the engine and the main sail we made our final approach at 10 knots.
The sun finally set over Criccieth as we dismantled our great little French trimaran, the Magnum 21. What a great weekend we'd had.
Made famous by the 1967 TV series, "The Prisoner", created by, written by, produced by and starring Patrick McGoohan, the village of Portmeirion, may be reached by sea. I've been looking for the right tidal conditions to sail there and they occurred yesterday. So I phoned a friend, Ray, who'd already expressed an interest in sailing there with me and we made a plan to sail there from Criccieth on the Lleyn Peninsula.
We launched the Magnum 21 trimaran at low tide and I taught Ray the basics of sailing as we passed Black Rock Sands on our way to the entrance to Porthmadog harbour in fine conditions.
I've passed the fairway buoy several times but never entered the buoyed channel before. Using my new Garmin GPSmap76Cx we could see that we were sailing exactly along the chart datum line. When we passed the theoretical entrance to the channel I ventured to enter it. But we quickly found the centreboard hit the bottom so we beat a hasty retreat and started to read the water instead.
To be fair, the chart indicated that the channel was subject to continual change but that it was freshly buoyed each season. The buoys were some way off to the south and close to the Harlech side. We could easily see where the waves (which were coming from the SW) increased in amplitude and started to break, indicating shallow water, so we steered clear of them. In the far distance was Harlech with it's famous castle, once supplied directly from the sea, which was then at its foot.
We observed a green buoy on the beach, which was surprising! Maybe it had been placed there at low tide and would mark the edge of the channel when the tide came in.
As we got closer we also noticed jetskis zipping along the beach! "Ah ha!", I explained to Ray, "A mirage!" At sea the mirage (normally associated with the apparent appearance of water in deserts) is upside down. The refraction of the light caused by cold air over the sea and warm air above means that objects on the sea appear to be above it. So the green buoy was not on the beach after all.
We made the channel safely.
We turned left onto a very broad reach and had to watch out continually for the impending gybe, which inevitably came. Fortunately we'd practised this already and there was no great drama. The shore was very close and we could see the colour of the water change from slate blue to pale brown when we got too close to it. There were holidaymakers all along. Following the red and green buoys we were surprised by the sharpness of some of the turns we had to make and how close to the rocks we had to go to follow this channel. It was fun, discovering a new place and using the buoys in the manner that was intended, to lead a stranger into a port safely.
As we drew near to Porthmadog we arrived at the point where we would have to leave the channel and head for uncharted water. Well, there is a chart but it's not much use as it is based upon aerial photography and is dated 2002.
First we tried following the more obvious route between the sandbanks but quickly found the centreboard popping up and then the rudder also. We could see the bottom was only about a foot deep and we could easily step out and manhandle the boat if required. But it was about 1400 and we were hungry so we stopped for lunch instead, furling the jib and lifting the board and rudder so that no harm would come to them.
I had taken the precaution of bringing along a GoogleEarth aerial photograph of the Afon (River) Dywryd, which now served us well as we set off after our short break.
The channel took us on a semicircular sweep a considerable distance from the Portmeirion peninsula. The first sign of Portmeirion was the miniature lighthouse on the SE corner of this peninsula.
We were repeatedly touching the bottom with the centreboard. The bottom must have been undulating. Ray developed a technique with the centreboard control lines that enabled us to make progress whilst measuring the depth with the board. The rudder only popped up once or twice. The wind was slight and so fortunately we were only doing about 4 knots with the tide at this time.
Then all of a sudden we could see our destination, Portmeirion, opened by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis in 1926 to demonstrate how a naturally beautiful site could be developed without spoiling it.
We drove right up on the beach and Ray leapt ashore with the anchor whilst I took the sails down.
Then we climbed into the village for afternoon tea passing, on our way, another architectural masterpiece, the ketch that is actually part of the fabric of the village and yet looks quite realistic from the sea.
There are plenty of places to eat in Portmeirion and all kept immaculately clean and free of crumbs by the extremely tame wild life. The birds sweep in for their afternoon tea as soon as you stand up. In fact a one or two birds stood expectantly on our table whilst we were eating. There was, a robin, a chaffinch, a sparrow, a blackbird, a blue tit and more.
But we couldn't hang around admiring the architectural masterpieces that comprise this exquisite village because the incoming tide had already covered the anchor and we needed to get back into our trimaran whilst we could still paddle out to her.
It was this view of the estuary filled with sea water that had led me to want to sail here in the first place. Why? Because I could do it with the shallow draft of the Magnum 21. And, it was an adventure getting here. But now we had to get back before the tide ran out and, perhaps, left us high and dry.
Once in the boat, as there was still a bit of water left to come in, we had time for Ray to indulge his passion for bird watching. He was particularly keen to catch sight of the Osprey that is known to be hereabouts so, first of all, he set about cleaning my binoculars.
Leaving Portmeirion the wind was against us and the channel of indeterminate depth and width so I elected to use the engine. Ray kept an eye on the breadcrumb trail that we had made on our way in on the GPS chart and I kept an eye on the water for any clues about depth.
Sometimes it was the colour of the water but mostly it was a ripples, or rather the lack of them, that gave away the position of the deepest water. The tide was in the final stages of the flood and the wind was from the sea so the ripples were greatest where the water was slowest, over the shallow water. But there seemed to be another factor. There was a slight oilyness on the surface that seemed to be spreading out from the occasional gloopy bubble that emerged from the depths. There must have been some sort of animal life down there that had chosen to live where it would be covered with water for the maximum amount of time. And this thin layer of fish oil led to a calming of the ripples on the surface. We'd been motoring slowly at about 3 knots but as we emerged unscathed from the Dwyryd we started sailing and put the engine away as we were safely able to do 5 knots.
As we headed into Porthmadog for a quick look, we could see the narrow gauge Ffestiniog Mountain Railway train steaming along the causeway that separates the Afon (River) Glaslyn from the sea.
This is one of the great pleasures of sailing, seeing something or somewhere familiar from a completely different perspective. I have been in this train and I have driven along the road that is on the other side of the railway here but I had never seen it from the sea.
After Borth-y-Gest, a suburb of Porthmadog, we came upon the Porthmadog & Transfynydd Sailing Club slipway. In the right of the picture you can also see an island named Cei Ballast, which, of course, means ballast quay. In the days before railways all the trade was done around the coast and when a ship unloaded its cargo it needed to take on ballast before it was safe to sail away again. Otherwise the wind could have simply blown it over.
We decided to sail downwind between the two lines of moored yachts but mindful of the difficulty of tacking back out against the wind I turned around to test our ability to achieve this and discovered quickly that there was insufficient room for manoeuvre. Not because of the width of our trimaran but because the boats were tied nose to tail with virtually no gaps. This would have meant coming out on the engine and some dicey sail dropping in the confined harbour at the end. We changed our plan and headed altogether out of the harbour with the sails still up.
We did plenty of tacking. The channel was wide enough but perilously close to the rocks. Everybody else was coming back into the harbour under engine but we managed to avoid hitting anybody or anything.
Soon we out in the sea again. Once the beating to windward was over we were able to reach towards Criccieth at 8 knots where my car and the boat trailer were waiting above the high wat