As we got to the boat, something didn't look right. We moor Ishtar with a chain, and with a rope, if one fails the other holds, hopefully. The rope 'tail' was hanging limply in the water. When we got aboard, we could see why:
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Oops"]
[/caption]I can only assume it must have tangled with the chain, and gradually sawn its way through as the boat rotated with each tide. Ho Hum. Another job to do. Later.
We unloaded, tied off the tender and headed across to our friend's mooring (Hi Phil and Gail). I'd promised to dive on it and check it over. I suited up and entered the water with a splash.
The mooring was fine, little more work than renewing the cable ties on a few of the shackles. Job done. The water is warm enough with a dry suit, but threading a cable tie through the eye of a shackle you can feel, but not see, in the mud, with cold hands, was tricky.With high tide approching, we took Ishtar in to the main pontoon on the beach. Louise filled the water and we took some unneeded junk to the car. Met Adam on the beach and we chatted as we threw sticks into the sea for Tigger on a cool spring evening.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Adam"]
[/caption]We had a curry aboard Ishtar and watched another wonderful Dale sunset with a glass of Montana Sauvingnon Blanc.
Louise fancied a trip up the river on Saturday. A 10:30 low tide meant the trip up and back could be leisurely, but with the tide turning at 16:30, running West agaist the increasing wind, it might cut up. Louise set the Genoa and sailed off downwind and upstream. 'It will be a nice sail up, horrible sail back' I said.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Leaving Dale"]
[/caption]It was lovely. Easy sailing, the wind pushing Ishtar along at 5.7 knots through the water, with another knot of current as the flood began. Usual thing for Milford, radio on, listening for ship movements, avoiding tugs and speed boats, then under the Cleddau bridge and into another world, with ancient oaks, herons hunting under their eaves in the silence. I love the river.
All too soon, we were at Llangwm, our 'home' of a couple of years back. By this time, Tigger had had quite enough of boats, his head full of seaweed and thick gloopy mud. Louise's head was full of tales of seabass, caught in inches of water, just of the banks, according to fishermen's tales she'd been reading on the Internet. They set off for the shore.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Going ashore"]
[/caption]In fairness, Tigger was far more successful in his search for mud than was Louise in hers for bass, but they both returned happy. I waited on the boat, watching a beautiful Westerly, Swn Y Mor of Dale glide between the moorings. We exchanged pleasantries.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Westerly"]
[/caption]With 28 knots forecast for the evening, we reefed the main and Louise sailed us off the mooring and off down the river. Still a lovely sail at this point, sun and broken clouds, the steep wooded valley sides of the Cleddau protecting us from the wind.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Cleddau"]
[/caption]As we passed under the Cleddau bridge and left Neyland in our wake, however, the tide turned, and began to flow against the strengthening wind. Heading due West against a Westerly wind, we switched to engine power as the sea picked up and the clouds darkened, glowering down on us and threatening rain.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Worsening weather"]
[/caption]Then it got unpleasant. Boat slamming into the waves, great big raindrops and winds of 28 knots. We were held up for half an hour as two tankers, one leaving, one entering, traded tugs in the narrow channel. It was a pleasure to tie up Ishtar on her mooring. I took Tigger ashore in the tender, another soaking, and an early night was to follow. By 22:00 we were seeing 30 knots on the instruments, but there was no further rain.
Sunday morning was far more benign. I sailed us the mile or so around to Castlebeach bay and we set the anchor without fuss. I rowed Tigger ashore - Louise wanted to do a stock check and oil some of the teak, so she remained aboard Ishtar as we set off in the dinghy.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Ishtar at anchor"]
[/caption]The recent strong Easterly winds had been kind to Castlebeach, from a dogs point of view. Tigger had a huge choice of sticks - he settled on one that was tied to another piece of wood, so I untangled it for him.
The 'throne' that someone had built last summer was looking good:
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Throne"]
[/caption]Someone had thoughtfully added some suntan cream, and toys for the kids
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Accessories"]
[/caption]Several varieties of lager
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lager"]
[/caption]And, out the back, a small wood store had been added, for those cold spring evenings
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Wood store"]
[/caption]All in all, a well thought out, planned and executed project.
Tigger and I set off up the path Westwards. Met a small group of people arguing over a ketch anchored in the bay below.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Castlebeach anchorage"]
[/caption]They seemingly couldn't agree on whether the ketch was one they knew or not. We had a brief chat about things nautical, and the Haven, before I left them and headed back to the beach.
All too soon we were upping anchor and packing. A couple of hours later we were in the car once more, heading East, and back to the real world.
