We'll be in Cardiff by 10:00

That was what we thought. When the alarm went off at 01:45 we were both so tired, it was just a case of get back and rest. Louise made a pot of coffee whilst I pulled up the anchor. By the time I was drinking it, we were underway. Louise on the bows with a torch. This time we definitely would have hit a lobster pot head on, at low tide, with floating line, if she had not been there.

We inched out of Oxwich. No moon, and the lights of Swansea not helping our night vision. I set a course for the West Scarweather buoy and we were on our way, motoring in the last hour of the ebb, awaiting the flood, and the biggest tide of the year to take us to Cardiff.

When the engine cut out at 04:30 I could not believe it. I removed the companionway steps and just stared in disbelief. Why us?

I unscrewed the secondary fuel filter. Empty. Had to be the diesel bug again. I managed to suck some diesel through, and got her running again. When she stopped a second time I took off the primary fuel filter and could see the tell tale black slime. I was heartbroken.

For the next hour, whilst Louise sailed us, I tried a new filter, bypassing the primary filter by connecting the two hoses with a copper pipe, and eventually settled on running the engine from our emergency 5l fuel container.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Emergency tank"][/caption]

 

We had 5 litres in there. Ishtar's Beta 20HP uses around a litre an hour, so we'd be fine. There was plenty in there to get us back to Cardiff. Except that it drained it less than an hour. I could watch the level drop. Louise clmbed into the cockpit locker and began sucking diesel from the main tank through blocked pipes, using an engine oil sump pump.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Pump it"][/caption]

The diesel we managed to suck through was clearly contaminated, so I filtered it through a tea towel.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Bug"][/caption]

 

We managed to keep the engine running for a couple of hours like this, but it became clear we were fighting a losing battle trying to get diesel from the main tank. Even when I realised that most of the diesel was being sent back to that tank via the fuel return pipe, and redirected that, it was clear we wouldn't make it.

Louise phoned our friend Vince, who, luckily, was already on his boat, Volition, and had a full Jerry can. He set off immediately. We are so lucky to have such good friends.

When I saw Volition coming towards us, I cut the engine and tried sailing. It was one of those days in the Bristol channel where you sail forwards, but travel backwards. We'd missed the flood, and the tide was ebbing at over 4 knots. Even once we'd had the Jerry can from Vince, it was clear that we'd be better off at anchor.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Vince's diesel"][/caption]

 

We motored over to a small bay in front of Atlantic College. As the anchor hit the bottom and took hold, it violently pulled Ishtar to a stop - the paddle wheel log showed that even in the bay, there was a 3 knot current at anchor.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Volition, Atlantic College"][/caption]

 

We made a cup of tea and got some rest. 4 hours later, we hauled in the anchor and set off under sail, Volition looking lovely in the Autumn sunshine:

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Autumn"][/caption]

 

Louise and I were both overtired, and eager to get back to Cardiff, so we left Vince to enjoy the sailing, and motored back. joining other yachts making the most of the Indian summer.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Steepholm"][/caption]

 

As the evening fell, we were fortunate to witness a glorious sunset

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Sunset over Sully Island"][/caption]

 

We locked in at 19:15, and by 20:00 we'd left Ishtar - we could clean the mess and sort the diesel bug issue another day. We called in the bar to buy Vince a pint (a minimum, for now) but both knew we needed to get home and an early night. We were home by 10, but it was 10pm, not 10am........

Eventful, but we got home safe and sound.

Dale to Oxwich

Thursday evening had ended calm and sunny. The wind picked up during the night, which made it an unrestful one. It had calmed again by dawn, but was replaced with a thick mist, although that burned off quite quickly.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dawn"][/caption]

 

I'd been trying to contact Castlemartin Firing Range all week. All I could get was a recorded message which gave the firing details on that particular day. On the way down last year, we'd been directed 12 miles offshore. Vince told me last week that they'd told him 4 miles. When passage planning, using the Bristol Channel tides to best advantage, it's really important to know where you'll be at each hour of the tide.

When we eventually got through to the range (they told us to wait at first as the guy with the information was 'in the shower'), they told us we'd have to stay just 1.5 miles away from the coast between Linney head and St Govan's head. This was no problem, and would allow us to leave a couple of hours later than if we had to go 12 miles out.

I can only assume that the differing distances offshore are determined by the type of ammunition being used. Anyway, we made our plan, and decided to leave at 11:00 hours.

It can get lumpy in Southerly winds as the ebb lets the water out of the Haven, and today was to be no different. Waves crashed onto Sheep Island as we headed out towards the Turbot Bank

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Sheep Island"][/caption]

The sea soon calmed, and was a pleasant slight-moderate as we headed SouthEast, straight into the wind. We contacted the range, confirmed our plan with them over the VHF and they were happy. We then settled into our long motor towards Oxwich, with 2 hour watches, both of us taking turns to rest after a sleepless night before.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Off watch"][/caption]

 

As we headed across Carmarthen Bay (no dolphins) and then past the Helwick bank, I realised we'd be later than I'd planned reaching Oxwich. That would mean anchoring in the dark, which was no problem, but, with no moon, picking our way between the lobster pots near Oxwich point and in the bay would be difficult. Still, too late to do anything about it now.

I was joined by some strange birds. The behaved like normal herring gulls, but had odd grey patches near the bill. Not sure what they were, but they looked lovely against the autumnal skies.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Birds"][/caption]

 

We got to Oxwich around 20:15, totally dark, apart from the bright lights of the Oxwich Bay Hotel, which made spotting lobster pots in the dark even harder. Louise stood in the bows with a torch and we avoided incident. We dropped the anchor and had a bite to eat. With the alarm set for 01:45, it was to be a short night. For the second neight in a row, neither of us slept well, so it was two very tired members of Ishtar's crew who climbed from out bunks in the wee small hours. Still, we'd be back in Cardiff by 09:30, and could rest all day!

Heading back

The weather looked reasonable, although the wind, SE, was in the wrong direction for a trip from Dale to Cardiff. Still, having a boat on a swinging mooring 90 niles away as October starts leads to some apprehension, so we made the plan to bring Ishtar back.

Our friend Sheila kindly offered to give us a lift to Dale, obviating the need for another trip down to pick up outr own car. Sheila and Vince really are a lovely couple, and have been very kind to us in the 4 years we've known them.

When we got to Dale, the tide was way out, 7.7m high was the biggest spring tide of the year at Dale. From the beach, it looked like Ishtar was aground (arrowed)

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Low water"][/caption]

 

We had a lovely lunch in the Griffin, and took Sheila to Martin's Haven for a short walk. When we returned, it was time to get the tender and head out to Ishtar, leaving Sheila to drive back.

We quickly dismantled our mooring, and then did the same with Sheila and Vince's

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Removing moorings"][/caption]

 

All that was left was to take Ishtar ashore and tie up our fixed dinghy - we'd have to return next week with a trailer to pick that up. The sun was setting a lovely Golden red as we tied up on the pontoon in front of the Griffin, 20 odd feet of water now lying over the mud we'd seen just a few hours ago.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dale pontoon"][/caption]

We returned to the floating pontoon and retired for the night.

Out with a whimper, not a bang.

And so we are in the last days of September. We had so many plans for the summer, Ireland again, and this year's target was the Scilly isles. In the end, we barely managed a few trips from Dale, although Fishguard was memorable.

We'll be bringing Ishtar back to Cardiff Bay soon, for the winter, but a few friends were going to be in Dale for the weekend, so we left the strains of fitting a new bathroom and long work hours behind and headed West.

Sheila and Vince were at Dale, aboard their new Moody 31 'Volition', and very nice it was too. Vince assured me he was delighted with her sailing capabilities, and she was a good boat for a few friends to enjoy a few glasses of wine aboard too.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Volition"][/caption]

 

Saturday dawned with drizzle and little wind. Louise and Sheila decided to take Tigger ashore and go for a walk on the coast path. Ishtar's leisure batteries were low, so I said I'd take her for a spin. It would be worth ensuring all was well before the two day trip back to Cardiff.

As I passed Monk Haven, they took a picture of me.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Ishtar"][/caption]

 

20 years of diving aboard Ribs, and I'd been on boats with the engine running enough times. After about 25 minutes, I switched the engine off and raised the sails. A leisurely sail up to Sandy Haven and I was soon 'chilled out' after the recent strains of work, and doing up the house.

I returned to the pontoon and fell asleep, waiting for Sheila and Vince, Louise, and friends Allan, Ian and Jackie to gather - we'd booked a table at Dale yacht club that evening.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Pontoon"][/caption]

 

The food was lovely. I had field mushroom stuffed with leek and goat's cheese, followed by fisherman's pie.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="225" caption="Dale yacht club"][/caption]

 

A few more beers and some wine aboard Volition out on the floating pontoon later, and a great evening was had by all. I'd intended to move Ishtar back to our mooring afterwards, to avoid squeaking ropes and fenders on the pontoon, but convinced myself (helped by maybe a glass too many of wine) that it was calm enough for a peaceful night.

It was, until about 03:00, when the wind picked up. I couldn't take it and Louise and I hurriedly dressed, much to the chagrin of a sleepy Tigger, and moved across to our mooring.

We left early on Sunday as Vince on Volition, and Allan aboard Chausey set off back for Cardiff.

It won't be long before we do the same.

So frustrating......

It always seems to be the same at this time of year. The British summer takes so long to get started, then before you know it, the blackberries are out, we're into August, the days are getting shorter again and Autumn seemingly can't wait to charge in with a 'right then, that's your lot for this year'.

Add to this a few depressions, bringing wind and rain, and when you do, finally get a chance to get out of the boat, the social side of your life seems to throw its own hat into the ring to stop even that.

We were away for three days this weekend, and sailed for a grand total of around 40 minutes. Work that out...........

So, anyway. As part of some future plans, we had both, some years back, tried kayaking. It was something I'd enjoyed but Louise less so. After a brief paddle on the Neath canal a week or so back, however, she decided she wanted to give it another try, and bought a cheap plastic boat from the Freeads. So we had to try that out.

Friday was spent paddling about in the salt marshes, near Dale, in the pouring rain. Tigger seemed to enjoy it, bounding around, swimming out to us and back ashore again. Louise even tried her hand at some white water stuff, well, sort of, as the ebbing tide rushed over some stepping stones used to cross the marsh:

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Kayak"][/caption]

One consolation. As we loaded the kayaks back onto the top of the car, I thought I saw a small dinghy fall over on the beach. As I rushed to its rescue, I bumped into its owner

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Martin"][/caption]

 

We got chatting and he turned out to be a very interesting gentleman indeed. Hailing from the South Coast, he'd towed his little craft up and sailed it from Dale every day. He also cycled, all over Pembrokeshire, and has done so for many years it seems. He told me one story of heading along the coast towards Tenby and becoming becalmed, managing to get ashore and sleep in the boat overnight until there was enough wind to get him back - a real character. We spoke of many things, including wildlife and archeology, before it was time for us to leave. I hope we bump into him again - I won't forget him. His name was Martin, too!

So, out to Ishtar. A bit of maintenence on the mooring, and then a quick sail before I'd drop the anchor and listen to the Wales v England rugby game on the radio. I'd then planned a longer run, out towards St Govan's head. I didn't mind if we got back after dark - I was itching to get out on the boat.

Even those plans were scuppered. The mooring took far longer than I'd anticipated to change a chain and rope tail. I did enjoy the rugby at least. Just after the final whistle, which saw Wales win 19-9, I upped the main and sailed off the mooring.

And bumped into some friends from Cardiff, John and Margot, a couple of musicians, on their aptly named sloop, Alegria.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Alegria"][/caption]

A quick chat on the VHF and it turned out that they, and a few other friends, were down for the night and heading to Dale yacht club for a meal and a few drinks and would we join them. Ah well, we could sail tomorrow.......

I did go out for a short sail, only as far as West Angle bay and back, but even then I had to run the engine on the way back - one of the battery contacts on our solar panel had become disconnected, and the auxilliary batteries were down.

Having said all that, we had a great time over a few beers later, and I truly can't remember what I was explaining to Dave (Caswyn) in this picture.....

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dale yacht club"][/caption]

 

I think I remember getting back to Ishtar, and vaguely recall grumbling  from my bunk to Louise to please fish more quietly  - she had no luck with the bass, either way.

Sunday morning. Overcast, but with all the signs of brightening up. Westerly wind, force 4. Perfect for sailing. John and Margot on Alegria, and Viv and Richard aboard Rhiannon had left just after 07:00, to catch slack water in Jack Sound. The way my head felt, I was glad we'd not decided to join them. I make a point, on diving trips, not to have a drink if the diving looks to be good. I've never been able to drink, although I do love a beer. I was in no fit state to go for a sail, and really didn't fancy it either, so, with just 40 minutes with the sails up all weekend, we headed home.

Surely there must be some fun to be had before Autumn comes in properly?

I'm shaking

After a few nice weekends sailing, real life has been getting in the way over the last few weeks, and, indeed, this weekend was going to be a short one due to other commitments. Still, we'd get a quick sail in.

When we'd fitted the new engine to Ishtar last winter, I'd run in new heavy duty electrical cables from the starter battery to the engine. Last time out, we noticed that the blocks of plyboard I'd stuck to the engine room roof with a sikaflex clone to hold up these wires had dropped, leaving the battery cables hanging down close to the engine.

The first job was to rehang the wires, which Louise did expertly, me being unable to work due to an arm injury. Maintenence over, we decided that a quick sail up the Haven to Milford would be nice.

When we started sailing three years ago, we agreed that I'd do the bulk of the learning, figuring that it would be better to have one person with a larger amount of experience than both of us with a small amount. This has meant that I am probably more able to sail Ishtar than is Louise, although she is undoubtedly better at handling the boat under power.

As Louise now attempts to 'catch up', experience-wise, we find that the best way to simulate the true learning experience is if I stay well clear, preferably down below, and offer no help or guidance at all. Louise enjoys this, and often tells me to 'shut up' and let her do it herself at such times.

So, she set the Genoa, Tigger and I were confined to the cable tier and Ishtar with her 'single handed' female crew slowly crept up the haven, her sail caressed by a very light Westerly and her hull by the clear warm Pembrokeshire waters.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Single handed"][/caption]

 The single handed simulation performed well - Louise was suitably stressed, listening to the movement of ferries Pilots, tugs and tankers on VHF channel 12, avoiding vessels at berth, and the vagaries of the light winds around these huge hulks. By the time we reached the Milford shelf, she realised we were at low tide. She called the pierhead and, out of courtesy, asked if we could tie alongside the Mackerel Stage to provision.

'Provision' being the best verb I can think of to describe a dash to Tesco for Tiramisu - Louise had forgotten to bring a dessert, a fact which nearly resulted in the first ever single handed mutiny.

Then came the only slight mistake of the day. A slight navigational error on the way in to the Mackerel stage resulted in us running aground. This was no earth shattering collision though, no splinters of wood, no great grinding of fibreglass against rock. In fact, I didn't feel a thing, and if it were not for Louise saying 'We're not moving any more' I would have missed the event entirely.

We were quickly off and moving again and Louise set us against the Mackerel stage perfectly, and tied us off. It was only then that she admitted 'I'm shaking'. To me, this showed the effectiveness of our simulated single handed passage - Louise really felt the pressure of doing the whole thing on her own, and this, hopefully will stand her in good stead should I become incapacitated or fall overboard and she has to do it for real.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="I'm shaking"][/caption]

 

The tiramisu run was successful, and the cake itself very much enjoyed later, as was the King Prawn Jalferezi and Mushroom korma with chapattis. Louise sailed us back to Dale, beating all the way with full main and genoa and tied us up on the mooring, again, all 'solo'.

We left early the following morning, but it was a very successful exercise.

Up the river and down a rope.

The weather on Friday was not fantastic, 25 knots of Westerly and some hefty showers. Saturday and Sunday were better though, sunshine and F3-4, still from the West. We had a bit of unfinished business to do on Friday anyway.......

Two years ago, we had borrowed a mooring up the river at Llangwm. Shortly after leaving we had removed our chain. A much larger yacht was due to use the mooring, and her owner was laying her own, thicker chain. When I dived to remove our chain, I found that the mooring block was upside down. Ishtar, it seemed, must have bounced the 1.5 tonne concrete block in some freak swells when we were not there. I had to leave part of our chain, but promised the new occupant that I'd help him attach his chain, and right the concrete block when we did it. I left a 16mm thick nylon rope as marker.

The new occupant was John, and Chelone. As things turned out, he went off travelling to the Caribbean, and has only just returned, so the mooring never got sorted. Now was the time!

Louise and I set off from Dale around 14:00 on Friday. Against the ebb, but with genoa alone, in the 25 knot Westerlies, we made very good time. Saw this vessel playing about with one of the channel marker bouys.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Galatea"][/caption]

 

She's Galatea, a Trinity House maintenence vessel, and, if I recall correctly, the vessel that took the stars to the Scilly isles in one of the 'Three men in a boat' episodes.

It was quite refreshing to hear one of her crew struggle to control the giggles when a Castlemartin range control boat referred to her as 'sir'.

A peaceful sail up the river was followed by a quick dive to survey the mooring.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Llangwm dive"][/caption]

The visibility in the ebbing tide was dreadful. A complete blackout just 50cm below the surface. It's hard to describe the claustrophobic conditions. The water moving silently past, the only other sensory input apart from the feel of the rope in your hand as you descend what feels like hundreds of metres into the blackness. It's only 5m to the river bed.

I felt the block, and some other nasty things as well, what felt like rope and something long and cylindrical. Surely not a conger, this far upstream? I switched the torch on. Useless. The limit of it's very bright beam petered out about 12-13 inches from its bulb. I supposed it must have been the remains of an old hawser used to moor a previous boat.

The block was still upside down. I had no hope of attaching a new chain unless I could right this 3ft x 3ft x 2ft block of concrete.

I returned to the surface, and to the air, so glad to be out of the cold darkness. As it was now slack water, I had an idea. I pulled the line until Ishtar was directly over the block, and then cleated it off. I set a waypoint on the GPS and then waited. Over the next three hours, I watched the tide rise, inch by inch until over 2 metres more water lay between us and the block. Suddenly, from being 2, 3, 4 metres away from the point I had entered, we were 13m away.

Something had happened. I released the line. Louise warmed up an excellent curry, followed by lemon cheesecake and a glass of wine, and we retired.

She was up at 07:00, dragging Tigger out of his slumbers, his dreams of roasting joints of beef and sunkissed beaches, warm waters and a plentful supply of sticks. Off they both paddled in the tender, watched bemusedly by a pair of early morning visitors.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Misty morning"][/caption]

 

When they returned, I downed a quick coffee and dived in. The visibility was better with the flood bringing in clearer saltwater, mixing with the muddy river water from the Cleddau basin. As I reached the bottom I could see, to my delight and great satisfaction, the block was now sitting upright on the river bed. Removing the old chain and adding the new would now be a formality, once John arrived with the new mooring chain around mid morning. Ishtar had lifted the block back to the way it was laid.

I set off in the dinghy and met John ashore about 10:00. We loaded the new mooring into the dinghy as John set off to fetch Chelone up from Neyland, some 5 miles downstream.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="New mooring"][/caption]

 

I quickly slid the mooring down the old line, shackle first, then dived. Disconnected the old line, which Louise pulled up. I attached the new mooring to the block, did the shackle up tight with spanner and crowbar, seized it and surfaced for another coffee. By the time John brough Shelone around the corner, 15 minutes later, his new mooring was waiting for her.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Chelone"][/caption]

Louise and I went aboard Chelone for tea and biscuits and then Louise took some other guests ashore.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Guests"][/caption]

I'm afraid I don't know who these people are, but they were kind enough not to sink our dinghy!

We soon took John ashore and set off downstream, leaving Chelone comfortable and looking pretty in her temporary new home.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Chelone"][/caption]

 

Louise sailed us down the river, then handled Ishtar expertly as we beat, tack after tack against the Westerly wind towards Dale. We saw this strange vessel on the way down the river, a kayak trimaran. her owner seemed cheerful enough, but would have preferred a larger sail. That's what he told us, anyway.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Kayak Trimaran"][/caption]

 

Another marvellous sunset at Dale on Saturday evening:

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dale Sunset"][/caption]

 

We spent Sunday removing excess junk from Ishtar. Multiple hanks of rope and old haliards. assorted bouys, a rope ladder, and other junk, too boring to describe, or to photograph. Left the boat around 15:00 after a quick cuppa with our friend Dave, from Mar-y-Sol, and home.

Caswyn, Vince and Dave

We set off from North Haven, Skomer early on Saturday morning, motoring around the West side of the Island rather than waiting for slack water at Jack Sound. with less than three knots of wind, we didn't even try to sail against the last of the North going tide. A couple of hours later we were rounding St Anne's head and, shortly after that, Louise and Tigger went ashore in the dinghy, and then off to Milford by car, for provisions.

Caswyn was due in around lunchtime, having left Oxwich, where they spent the night just after 06:00. They duly pulled in at Dale around 13:00, and shortly after that, Louise and I went over to see them.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Caswyn"][/caption]

I'd promised to dive on Caswyn's mooring for Dave, but had not yet managed it. Instead, we pulled up the riser and attached the mooring buoy. I did try and snorkel the chain, to check it, buu couldn't manage the full length, so I'd have to dive it when I bring back my dive gear to Ishtar after the Lundy trip.

That sorted, we ate some lunch and then all went ashore for showers and a visit to The Griffin.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Martin, Vince, Dave at the Griffin"][/caption]

 

I picked up some weed in the tender outboard on the way back to Ishtar, which caused it to overheat, but it seemed fine once I cleared the blockage. Louise cooked a loved chinese meal of sweet and sours prawns or chicken with duck in plum sauce, followed by Banoffee pie with cream. With Dave and Vince tired after their passage, Louise and I then headed back to Ishtar and our bunks.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dale sunset"][/caption]

 

Sunday dawned hot and windless. There seemed no chance of sailing. Dave wanted to do some work aboard Caswyn, so Vince joined Louise and I aboard Ishtar as we headed around to Castlebeach Bay. Louise would do some fishing, and Vince and I would take Tigger ashore.

We soon lay at anchor and I quickly rowed Vince and Tigger ashore at Castlebeach.

After throwing a stick into the sea for Tigger for a short while, we meandered up the coast path to Dale point, looking down on Ishtar on one side of the headland

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Ishtar, centre"][/caption]

and then down on Caswyn, near the pontoon on the other side

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dale"][/caption]

After returning to the boat, we motored out to St Anne's head where Louise and Vince did a bit of fishing. With just one mackerel to show for an hour's effort, though, I suggested we try over the wreck of the Dakotian.

This was far more fruitfull, and Louise was soon well ahead in the race

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Mackerel"][/caption]

Vince soon joined in with a small pollack, before sealing the matter quite categorically a few moments later with a lovely cod.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Vince, with cod"][/caption]

Tired, sunburned but very happy indeed, we returned to Dave aboard Caswyn. Pretty soon we were ferrying our belongings ashore, Vince and Dave enjoying a pint and Louise and I an ice cream before we squeezed into Louise's tiny Citroen and returned to civilization, all of us wishing we could stay in Pembrokeshire for a few more days.

I'm sure we'll be back soon.

Skomer

Friday dawned hot and sunny. The day aboard Ishtar started early. Coffee and crumpets at 07:00, before Louise set off once again for the harbour, with Tigger in the dinghy. If anyone knows how to teach a dog to row himself ashore for his ablutions, I'd be very grateful of some advice.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Taking Tigger ashore"][/caption]

 

There wasn't a breath of wind in the harbour, so we fired up the engine on their return and set out past the breakwater, the Fishguard-Rosslare Catamaran ferry growling away at her berth, but not, it seemed, ready to fly off across the Irish Sea just yet.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Leaving Fishguard"][/caption]

 

Our plans were fairly fluid. We wanted to get back down through Ramsey Sound, and then perhaps anchor for the night at Porthllysgi, or maybe the pool in Solva. Spend Saturday pottering about in St Brides bay, sailing past Newgale, Nolton and Little Haven before returning to Dale on Sunday.

That plan soon changed when we received news that our friend Vince was crewing aboard 'Caswyn', another Cardiff boat, owned by another friend, Dave. They would be arriving at Dale on Saturday. We decided to head South sooned than we'd planned, and meet them at lunchtime on Saturday.

There was still no real rush, and, despite several other yachts motoring Southwards past us, we wanted to sail. In particular, Louise wanted to hoist our cruising chute alone, which she quickly did, and did well.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Crusing chute"][/caption]

 

This was one of those times when things kept getting better and better, however, as a pod of common dolphins joined us, just as the crusing chute filled and started driving Ishtar forwards.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dolphins"][/caption]

 

Tigger was fascinated. As a latecomer to the art of swimming, he marvelled at the speed, grace and skill of these advanced swimmers.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Look at those guys!"][/caption]

 

The dolphins stayed with us for half an hour or so. I was surprised that they stayed with us, as we sailed - there seemed to be no action aboard the motoring yachts in front of us to suggest they had dolphons too.

 

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="More dolphins"][/caption]

 As we rounded St Davids head and turned Southwards towards Ramsey Sound, our speed picked up. Louise dropped the Cruising chute, dipping it in the sea in the process. She was determined to try again and get it right, and she did so just a few hours later, much to her delight.

I switched on the engine for this passage through the Sound. About a mile North of the Sound, a cross current suddenly sent us 4o degrees off course, threatening to take us down the West side of the Island. We corrected and were soon hurtling through the Sound at over 10 knots speed over ground.

We saw a couple of smaller fins as we neared the exit of the Sound at Shoe rock. I steered towards them, to try and get a better view, then quickly wished I hadn't as a vicious back eddy set us twoards Shoe rock. I quickly corrected and made another mental note. Years of  'doing what we like'  when aboard dive ribs in Ramsey Sound needed to be forgotten when aboard a sailing yacht. Keep on track and get through the place is the order of the day from now on.

After exiting Ramsey Sound we headed East to the nearby bay of Porthllysgi, for lunch. Tigger and Louise fancied a swim, though ultimately only one of them got wet, the other letting out a series of loud screeching noises as they dipped a toe into the coolish waters of the bay.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Porthllysgi"][/caption]

Tigger was initially a reluctant sailor, but he's gradually learned to enjoy it, walking about on deck and observing the wildlife. He absolutely loves shore leave, of course.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Tigger"][/caption]

 

An hour later we raised the anchor and set off for Skomer. Louise raised and lowered the crusing chute perfectly, but by 17:00 what little wind was left sighed and died as the high pressure built over the UK. We switched to engine power, the noise spoiling the peace of the day as we motored into North Haven Skomer and picked up a mooring buoy.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="North Haven, Skomer"][/caption]

The last of the day tripper boats made their way past us, admiring the puffins and shearwaters, gannets and guillemots, their numbers clouding the skies and their calls filling the air as the sun sank lower, leading to a beautiful West Wales sunset.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Sunset"][/caption]

We opened a bottle of wine, and Louise started warming food. That was then delayed for over an hour, as the sound of Tigger barking on deck led us upwards to see a young seal playing around Ishtar.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Seal"][/caption]

Unbelievably, things were still getting better, as the seal played with our dinghy

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Seal and dinghy"][/caption]

 

and seemed so fascinated by Tigger that Louise could surely have stroked it, if she'd wanted to.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Louise, Seal, Tigger."][/caption]

This was turning into one of those weekends you remember for a long time.