Alderney to Hamble
Sunday 9 August 2015
We awoke to a clear sky and a gentle , warm-hued sunrise. Several other boats were preparing to leave as we quietly slipped out of Braye Harbour.
I was at first puzzled by an insistent throbbing sound in the distance, but then David explained that it was the bass from the Alderney Week quarry party that was clearly still going strong, after the fireworks of the previous night.
Departing from Alderney was straightforward: we just lined up the leading lights, and headed out to sea past the breakwater and the submerged rubble off its end.
The route back to the UK was also simple – we headed 020 degrees on the compass for most of the day. There was a weather window as the last ridge of high pressure created light north-westerlies while a nasty depression approached England.
Our original plan had been to go to Poole for an overnight stop, going on to Hamble the next day, but we had calculated that if we could reach the Needles fairway buoy by 1800, we could slip up the Needles Channel with a fair tide and get all the way back to Hamble the same day, even if the last section might be in the dark. So we were keen to keep up our speed across the Channel.
It was small neaps, but still we would be swept west then east by the tides, so we came up with the idea of measuring our progress north by minutes of latitude, setting a target for each hour – basically if we managed more than 5 minutes of latitude an hour, we were on track to get all the way in one day.
The winds were still light, so to keep on schedule we had the engine on, furling the jib but keeping the main up for a little added drive. This worked well, our speed through the water was over 5 knots, and we started slightly ahead of our target speed.
We took turns helming, an hour each, on a rota, and it was not until we had all had a turn, about 1000, that Alderney finally slipped below the horizon. The high land of Normandy’s Cap de la Hague, however, remained visible for another hour, topped by the distinctive outline of the Jobourg nuclear power plant.
While David was helming, we crossed the first section of the shipping traffic zone, with a series of large vessels approaching from the west and heading for Cherbourg or Rotterdam. They all looked like they were on a collision course, but the AIS below reported that they would pass a mile or two ahead of us, and so they did. David only had to duck the last of the series, and then we entered the no man’s land of the central reservation.
The sun was now high and hot, and there were few clouds in the sky. We listened to the weather report on the VHF, which confirmed another sunny day in the Channel Isles, but approaching cloud, wind and rain in the South West of England. Jersey, Dinard and Guernsey airports had reported their current weather conditions, but there was no data from Alderney, possibly because everyone on the island had been busy partying all night!
Anticipating a long day, it made sense for those who were not helming or keeping watch to rest below, and catch up on some sleep. I’m slightly prone to seasickness and can’t read on a boat, so on my second rest period when I really didn’t feel tired I listened to an audiobook on my phone – a much better idea!
We were making good progress across the chart, and hitting our target speed, so we switched the engine off and were able to sail for several hours, dodging the shipping traffic from the opposite direction. It’s surprisingly hard to spot a vessel on the horizon, especially into the sun, and work out which aspect it is showing and whether it is likely to be on a collision course. That is where the AIS is really valuable, and it also provides interesting additional information like the name, length and destination of the ship to while away the time.
The first land we spotted was the Purbeck Hills, which rise 198m above St Alban’s head. They gradually grew larger, and then we could see the white cliffs of the Jurassic Coast. An hour or so later, we could see the Isle of Wight.
The approaching depression did us a favour, and the wind picked up, so we were soon confident of getting to the Needles fairway in time to head straight for Hamble.
Adrian got it into his head that we would do better with the cruising chute. This involved a good half-hour of foredeck fiddling for three people while I helmed, and a couple of hoists, before the vast blue and white striped sail was up. It did perhaps add a knot of speed for about 45 minutes, but then it acquired a twist, and he decided to drop it and chuck the tangled mass down below.
As we approached the Needles fairway buoy the tide was still pushing us strongly east, so we put the engine on for extra power. Once past the jagged white cliffs of the Needles themselves, the tide was right behind us.
Even though the conditions were very benign – 8-10 knots of wind, neap tides – the shallow waters on either side were disturbed, and we had to stay within a narrow corridor, dodging the inevitable container ship coming in the opposite direction.
We made our way up the Needles channel, ticking off the marker buoys and marvelling at the angular coastline in the low sun. We sped past Hurst Castle and Yarmouth at 7 or 8 knots over the ground as the skies clouded up and the wind rose. We had a preventer on the main which provided me with a sense of security on the helm as we were now sailing dead downwind.
Adrian and David dipped below to make some hot pasta, as it was after 1900 and we still had 10 miles to go. It made a welcome meal as we put George on the helm. The wind had picked up, so we were able to sail the last section towards Southampton Water, which was busy with vast craft as it was now high water.
The tide was just turning against us, but we had enough speed to get all the way to Hamble Point under sail.
Tying up at 2030, we had covered 80 miles in just over 14 hours, and averaged 5.7 knots – a pretty speedy crossing. My first thought was to head for the showers; emerging half an hour later as a different person. After a quick drink in the Waterside Bar, which seemed to be bobbing around in a slightly disturbing manner, we crashed about 2200, delighted to have made the final journey in just one day.












