Lowestoft to Whitby

On Wednesday 22 May my lovely friends Alex and David drove me down to Lowestoft so I could leave the car safely at home. I had promised them I would only need a backpack but in the end I had a sailing bag with a few more clothes and various bits of equipment including two new 12v reading lights (thank you Amazon), a fenderboard which was half an 8ft decking plank, two bags of fresh and frozen food, one backpack with laptop, Kindle and 47 charging cables, and my Nordic walking poles.

After a number of Greater Anglia delays my crew Erika arrived via a taxi from Oulton Broad South, and got settled in. We decided to eat at the restaurant in the marina, the Third Crossing, to save sorting out catering on board. I still can't get used to the fact that I can hop off the boat and go to a restaurant so easily. With Sam there had to be a combination of the right tides, enough time, me feeling strong enough to get him off the boat, and checking that the restaurant was accessible. Now I can just go. How lucky I am, and my monkfish was surprisingly delicious.

I dithered a lot about departure on Thursday. The winds looked a bit too strong initially, dying away later, but we might carry the stronger winds northwards. The direction, SW, was perfect with fair winds pretty much all the way, and the wind coming over the land meant smoother seas. Friday looked a lot calmer and Saturday pretty much nothing. In the end we went for it, filling up at the fuel berth thanks to  the ever-helpful and chatty Zak and going through the Gull Wing and then the harbour bridge on the 1115 opening. Then it was out to sea where we were able to turn the motor off and sail almost immediately, with the wind nicely aft of the beam and around 15kt of wind, and the tide just turning to push us northbound. We already had one reef in the main and a few turns in the jib to reduce our sail area.

The first of many windfarms

By the time we were north of Great Yarmouth the wind was annoyingly strengthening, not in the forecast, with gusts up to 25kt. It was time to put in another reef, and Erika went forward to pull down the main. As she did she was smitten by an appalling headache, I think now a combination of seasickness and migraine. (I had taken two Stugeron earlier which may have saved me from a similar fate). Together we dropped the main and started the engine, then she retired below to be ill and miserable for a few hours while I stayed on deck in the very bumpy conditions and wished the wind would moderate just a bit. It did, eventually, by which time we were north of Sheringham and cutting across the Wash in the general direction of Lincolnshire. In the early evening we finally got the main back up with its two reefs in and the engine off, and despite eating almost nothing during the day Erika eventually managed to keep her migraine tablets down and was able to stand a watch from 2200 to 0100 on Friday, crossing the mouth of the Humber in the process, and another from 0400 to 0700.

Red moon rising

We had contemplated anchoring in the mouth of the Humber for a rest, but tidal timing meant that we would have had to turn straight into the wind to enter the estuary and then anchor for the first time for ages at 1am in an anchorage which is open to a lot of wash from passing shipping. On the whole, progressing northwards seemed like a more attractive option.

We were both surprised by the vast number of windfarms between Cromer and Whitby - I lost count, but maybe six or seven? Fortunately the Navionics app had plotted a route between them and I had followed its advice for the route on our chart plotter. Some had the normal red lights atop the turbines, but at least one had jolly clusters of white lights at the base of every mast, so at night it looked like a cosy suburb 30 miles out to sea.

Flamborough Head

Again in the night we had the engine running for a while to stem the tide and charge the batteries. By 0700 we passed Flamborough Head, the wind had dropped to only 10-14kt and we were able to shake out the reefs and sail again along an interestingly craggy Yorkshire coast, with pretty villages and towns nestling in the gaps between cliffs. Much more what we had all signed up for. 

By 1330 we were tied up against the fish quay in Whitby (pontoon removed for servicing) with the help of the Whitby harbour team, and enjoying large bowls of the crossing stew which Erika hadn't been able to face the night before. The bridge opened at 1530 and the very helpful and friendly marina man (whose dream boat is a Westerly Storm) found us a place rafted up to a rather sad and neglected resident boat. Rafting up is another thing we didn't do much of with Sam on board, as there was no way he could climb across another boat to get off. 

View from the fish quay

Whitby Abbey

Marina from above

Mindful of my fundraising promise I went off for a run, which turned out to be a short trot into town, a walk up the 199 steps to the abbey, a jog around the back of the abbey and a trot back down by a different route, with frequent pauses for photos. After a shower, a drink, and two bowlsful of nourishing
stew it was definitely time for bed.

Distance run: 155 miles.