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Old 20 July 2006, 01:07   #11
Country: Other
Length: 6m +
Engine: 200
Join Date: Apr 2004
Posts: 344
Feck me that was an interesting leg of the trip

Surprised ya dad the energy to type it up.

Roll on the next


Joint Ribtickler 2005
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Old 20 July 2006, 04:35   #12
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Country: UK - England
Town: Fareham
Length: 6m +
Join Date: Sep 2003
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Very enjoyable read Brian. I look, ever so much to your continuing adventures and wish you good luck for the remaining legs of your voyage. Wish I had the time to come to Brittany for Grandes Vacances, next year perhaps .


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Old 20 July 2006, 06:53   #13
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Country: UK - England
Town: Gosport
Boat name: April Lass
Make: Moody 31
Length: 9m +
Join Date: Aug 2001
Posts: 4,837
Brian, excellent adventure and great write up, keep it coming and see you at the weekend,

Ribnet is best viewed on a computer of some sort
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Old 20 July 2006, 07:02   #14
Country: UK - Isle of Man
Town: Douglas Isle of Man
Make: Osprey
Length: 5m +
Engine: Suzuki 70hp 4 stroke
MMSI: 235035776
Join Date: Dec 2002
Posts: 288
Great write up

Leave some beer in Brittany for us, we arrive 10 August!

Good luck

The Whitings
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Old 20 July 2006, 12:58   #15
Country: UK - England
Town: Poole
Length: no boat
Join Date: Jul 2001
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Here is Raz de Sein on a very calm day. It wasn't the same on the way south.

Good luck Brian
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Old 20 July 2006, 13:41   #16
Country: UK - Wales
Town: swansea
Boat name: Too Blue
Length: 8m +
Engine: Suzuki DT225
Join Date: Mar 2004
Posts: 12,791
Originally Posted by Whiteshoes
St Peter Port - Camaret Monday 17th July

Log 134.1 Cumulative 239.9

Fuel Used 167-0 286.9

We were slightly disconcerted when he didn’t know the code to get into his own annex and needed to ask somebody to let him in, but never mind..

They were extremely apologetic and good natured about it and it wasn’t a problem for us, but every time the kitchen door swung open 3 expectant faces would look over, only to be disappointed as plates of food were taken to other tables. The restaurant didn’t seem that busy either. It was really weird. The main course took another 45 minutes to be served and when it finally came to dessert, we were the only table left in the entire restaurant and they were laying up for the following morning and it still took 25 minutes to show up. Made me wonder what on earth was going on in their kitchen. I blamed the vegetarian !
Fawlty Towers strikes again!!!

Obviously he didn't know the code - he was prob just the waiter pocketing the cash while the owner was away.

No doubt the chef was also away so they had to go to another resturaent to get the food - then the car broke down - it was the wrong food - car broke down again etc etc!!!
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Old 21 July 2006, 06:24   #17
Country: UK - England
Town: Portchester, Hants.
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Hi Brian,

Great write up, enjoy the rest of your "Excellent Adventure". Say hi to all.

Best wishes
Aging Youth
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Old 14 August 2006, 07:27   #18
Country: Other
Make: Ribtec
Length: 7m +
Engine: Yamaha F225
Join Date: May 2002
Posts: 411
Camerert - Morgat - Camaret Tuesday 18th July

Log 47 miles Cumulative 286.9 miles

Fuel Used 60.5 litres 347.4 litres

After checking with Florence, that she had not booked a hotel for us that evening in Concarneau, we decided to have a lazy day in Cameret. By missing out L’Aber Wrach we were ahead of schedule and were pretty tired from the previous day’s exertions, so we extended the tenure of our fine apartment for another night.

We were too late for any kind of breakfast, so we wandered along the harbour in search of a creperie. There were 3 reasonable looking establishments within a stone’s throw but I insisted that we walk to the end to explore all the possibilities. Having gone the extra mile in the fierce heat, we found ourselves outside what was undoubtedly Camaret’s worst creperie by a distance but we were too hot to go back without sustenance. The crepes were so insubstantial that we were forced to visit the patisserie on the return journey.

We decided that Morgat would be a gentle cruise for the afternoon but chose not to leave ‘til after 3 to avoid the midday sun and we were cooled by the 30 knot apparent breeze on the way around. A couple of miles short of Morgat we were hit by the stifling heat again. I had already let some air out of the tubes and was reluctant to repeat this process, but they were drum tight. We moored up and made our way lethargically into town and absorbed a couple of beers along the way. We were too late for lunch and too early for dinner and the only thing that anyone would sell us were more bloody crepes. Eventually we found an establishment that would serve us moules and frites.and Sophie had to settle for the frites on their own.

There’s something about moules that doesn’t agree with me and I am reluctant to order them, but on this occasion the choice was moules, crepes or nothing and the moules won by a short head. Michael didn’t finish his and I duly obliged.

There had been a temporary stage set up opposite the beach and for a few minutes after the meal we watched a band warming up for their performance that night. They were giving it plenty but the alto sax was excruciating, so we sauntered back towards the harbour. At the top of the gangway down to the pontoon, I realised that I had a pressing engagement elsewhere and hastened to the marina facilities. Unfortunately I was without the crucial accessory that every yottie takes ashore with his spongebag in the morning. No matter, a check of my wallet revealed a veritable host of credit card receipts and these were pressed into unorthodox service. As luck would have it, I had stuck quite a lot on my card in the preceding days and there were just enough chits to see the job through. Otherwise I was down to 6 single pound notes, the currency of the Baileywick, which were my fall back position. Fortunately I didn’t need to use them as I’m sure I would have been committing an offence !

It was very low water on the trip back from Morgat and inshore ledges and rocks revealed themselves. We were a couple of miles offshore when I got really spooked by the appearance of a rock 70 metres ahead and fine on the starboard bow, where I was not expecting anything to be. So spooked was I, that we took a 4 mile detour out to the 10metre line, and came back into the bay in a massive arc. Upon subsequent inspection of the chart, there was a * sign with a dotted circumference and this rock even had it’s own name. Somehow through laziness, fatigue, ineptitude or my failing eyesight or possibly a combination of all 4, I had overlooked this. There was no cardinal mark attached to this rock and, looking for excuses, I wondered if there was not a clearer way of highlighting isolated offshore dangers on the charts. Fluorescent yellow or orange would certainly get your attention and would tell you “This is a f***ing rock. This will do untold damage to your pride and joy” In truth, I was happy to have escaped with the boat in tact and only my competence holed below the waterline.

Michael was feeling ill that night and I didn’t know if he was suffering from sunstroke or the mussels. He wasn’t hungry and just wanted to go back to the apartment, so I downed a large bottle of the excellent cider and ordered two pizzas a emporter for Soph and I. Michael’s condition turned out to be the mussels as he was fine next morning and ravenous, as usual.
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Old 14 August 2006, 07:31   #19
Country: Other
Make: Ribtec
Length: 7m +
Engine: Yamaha F225
Join Date: May 2002
Posts: 411
Camerert – Concarneau Wednesday 19th July

Log 69.5 miles Cumulative 356.4 miles

Fuel Used 78.3 litres 426.7 litres

As I looked out through the skylight of the apartment at 6 a.m., I thought that I’d done a wrong ‘un as the wind was gusting across the water and there were ominous dark clouds.The wind eased slightly but the rain set in. I wanted us to leave at 9.45 to give us an hour to knock off the 20 miles down to the Raz du Seine, to be there for slack water at 10.45, but it wasn’t going to happen. It was persisting it down. We ordered breakfast at one of the three hotels and teased it out, hoping that the rain would stop. A baguette cut up into six pieces, 3 small glasses of orange juice, 4 cups of chocolat chaud and 2 teas came to Euros 24.50. Bloody expensive I thought and why can’t the French manage something a little bit more substantial and a bit more exciting, like an egg for example. Still, the weather was brightening.

We plodded down the catwalk and donned drysuits. It was 11.15 as we left Cameret and the raz would be 90 minutes into the southgoing flow. We gave Trepied a half mile berth before turning south and passed the Basses du Liss. The lighthouse on Tevennec is described thus in the pilot “from afar vaguely resembling a ship with a high superstructure and funnel”. It didn’t strike me that way at all, but I was happy to make the landmark. We passed within a half mile of La Plate and could see all the disturbed water inshore, with several fishing boats working the periphery. The swirls and eddies extended a mile to the south and I knew that we had got her at her gentle best. It was as though we had been graciously granted safe passage as there was awesome power lurking here, ready to be vented on another occasion. I silently thanked the Raz for her benevolence as we turned the corner and sped South east.

It’s almost 20 miles across the Baie D’Audierne and we stopped about a third of the way for a bit of lunch. Our supplies were now 4 days old and after the extreme heat of the previous day, items emerging from the food locker needed to be carefully inspected for mould prior to consumption. The sausage rolls would not feature any further in our diet as they were showing spectacular results at both ends (as possibly we might also) and were duly jettisoned into the well. This worked in the kids favour as they were able to convert an even higher proportion of their calorie intake to chocolate but for a savoury old git like myself, the choices were diminishing.

After my navigational shortcomings had been cruelly exposed the previous day, I had made a detailed passage plan and was happy to cross off the anticipated lighthouse at Eckmuhl and the subsequent cardinals.. Experienced locals would have taken a more northerly approach, but I was content to head for the landmark of Les Moutons, with it’s main channel and then up towards Le Cochon, the distinctive starboard hand mark for Concarneau. There is a starboard mark called Le Vache 3 miles north of Les Moutons and it seemed that Old MacDonald had been put in charge of cartography for a day.

Florence had texted me with a berth number which was brilliant and she had booked us into a hotel in town, bless her. It was delightful to see them all on the pontoon and I quickly showed Philippe, who is an electrician by trade, the bodge that was our battery box. He is an extremely practical bloke, having fitted out his own Ribtec 6.5 and he went home to fashion an appropriate new lead and renew the fittings. Everything then had to come out of the consol locker; the tent, the sleeping bags, the kites, our overnight bags and other assorted paraphernalia so that he could stick his head inside this claustrophobic space to give him room to work. He came up sweating profusely and I owed him a large beer !
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Old 14 August 2006, 07:33   #20
Country: Other
Make: Ribtec
Length: 7m +
Engine: Yamaha F225
Join Date: May 2002
Posts: 411
Concarneau – Glenan Islands - Concarneau Wednesday 19th July

Log 21.7 miles Cumulative 378.1 miles

Fuel Used 28.6 litres 455.3 litres

Florence had been to buy a Brittany flag to dress Caprisante and we were grateful to wear it with pride. She had booked dinner at a seafood restaurant on St Nicolas, one of the Glenan Islands and after a couple of beers we set off with Valerie, one of her work colleagues, Florence, Philippe, their son Nicolas and daughter Delphine. It is only 8 miles out to the Glenans and I made sure that Nicolas and Delphine had a short drive while it was still light. I then gave the helm to Philippe for the final approach and this is when I became seriously anxious as we were headed straight for a string of four rocks and the GPS blinked our impending disaster.

“Are we absolutely sure about this ?” I enquired trying not to sound as nervous as I really was. “Don’t worry. We do this all the time” he explained. “if we pass this rock 4 feet to port, there is enough water”

I have immense respect for Philippe and his seamanship and whilst I did not believe for a minute that he would imperil my vessel with his family aboard, I have to confess that I felt distinctly uneasy. And of course, he was right and I was just worrying like an old tart. It was however, the kind of manoeuvre that I would have preferred to have done half a dozen times in somebody else’s boat before I risked my own.

They had built a massive seawater pen that was fed by the tides at the restaurant and you could see their lobsters roaming across the bottom, with their claws taped together. I had not seen lobsters of this size before. Of course, Sophie was horrified and I haven’t eaten lobster myself for many years.

Sophie had melon and Florence went off to order a steak and chips from the only other restaurant on the tiny island for Michael. She duly returned with it on the other restaurants crockery and plonked it in front of him, whilst everybody else had fish. Furthermore, she sneaked off at the end of the meal to pay the bill and whilst I caught her in time, neither she nor the restaurant would accept my money.

The tide had come in significantly during the evening and Philippe skilfully piloted us out but it was only after we had passed within touching distance of his rock that I was able to finally unclench my buttocks. They dropped us back at our hotel and we arranged to go to their house for lunch the following day.

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