To sleep, perchance to dream…
A leisurely Monday morning routine involved a prolonged campsite breakfast, striking camp and a forced march to the harbour. This time ‘Baby Spice’ was pressed into action as Pete inflated his onboard tender and competed with the Harbour Taxi!
Baby Spice does her bit! (shot later in Guernsey)
photo : Paul
We left at the optimum time for the Race (1.00) but managed to catch the tail-end of the wrath of the Swinge as the waves boiled up outside the Harbour. They were mountainous!!! and the drops were cavernous!!! We all hung in there grimly until we rounded the Island cheering up as we realised The Race was exactly as predicted…running nice and smooth. We bid farewell to our friend the lighthouse
as we rounded the point.
An hour of hard work lay ahead however as the seas were still full of the energy of the previous nights’ storms. On one occasion Pete’s two ton Pacific launched straight into the air, Baby Spice still strapped on the back.
After an excellent landing (no faults) Pete soldiered on regardless. We kept a lookout for each other as we disappeared in the troughs and were all mightily relieved to spy the rocky coastlines of Sark and Guernsey ahead.
A welcome landmark...heralding our arrival at Sark and Guernsey
The tide was dropping as we toured around Sark and we reluctantly decided against the undoubtedly remote and beautifully situated campsite simply because of the downpours of the previous two nights and our wish to be nearer amenities in case of inclement weather once again.
Anto at Sark
photo : Paul
We headed for St Peter Port and were immediately struck by the distictively French ambience.
Guernsey (as far as we recall!)
photo : Paul
First stop refuelling! and celebrating the significantly smaller dent in our wallets! We were guided to raft alongside each other on a pontoon and Baby Spice ferried us ashore. This time we chose a campsite outside of town and Anto organised car hire (luxury). Anto ably took the helm of the hire car and patiently taxied us and luggage to the campsite where we set up the evening BBQ, downing a few flagons in happy anticipation of a night’s sleep. For we were in the middle of the Island, far from the town, far from foghorns and lighthouses...
It could only have been the influence of the blue moon however..as from four o’clock in the morning we were all awakened not by the nightly rain (we were used to that by then) but by the farmer’s precious peacocks. JW would have enjoyed that ! They shrieked all morning to scare away foxes, greet the dawn or whatever it is peacocks do…and in the process ensured another sleepless night for us weary campers!