I spent six days in IJmuiden, waiting on two solar panels I'd ordered. I passed the time rigging a preventer for downwind sailing, visiting the chandlery, eating an unreasonable amount of cheese, walking the beach, and runnig a few errands in Haarlem.
The panels arrived Monday around 12:30. By 1pm I was back on the water.
I made my way south to The Hague, where I was joined by my friend Cami, who lives nearby in Antwerp. We started the next morning with a run through town and out into the beautiful dune grasslands along the coast. By 7:30 we were on the water, sailing for Zeebrugge, a harbour town just outside of Bruges.
The route took us past Rotterdam, Europe's largest shipping port. It was pretty incredible to witness the coordination happening out there. They hailed me.
"Sailing vessel Stani, sailing vessel Stani, this is Pilot Mass on channel zero two."
"This is Stani on channel zero two"
"Change course to South and await further instructions."
Five minutes on a southerly course, and then clearance to cross the shipping lane. Large tankers and cargo ships moved in and out of the harbour, a helicopter was dropping pilots onto passing ships, and the horizon was dotted with vessels queued up to enter the port.
The rest of the day was easy sailing. We snacked on raisin bread buns, strawberries, veggies, hummus, and of course... cheese.
We arrived in Zeebrugge just before 5pm and headed straight for Bruges. We wandered the beautiful historic streets, had a beer and frites in the main square, and finished the evening with a nice dinner at a vegetarian restaurant called Kosmopoliet. Cami headed off for the train station, and I caught an Uber back to the boat.
That night I was joined by another friend, Marc. He flew in from Dublin, caught the train from Brussels, and arrived just after 11pm. We caught up over a glass or two of Red Spot, a very good Irish whiskey he'd brought along.
In the morning, I filed a pleasure craft report with our voyage plan to Border Force and HMRC, and we set off for Dover, across the strait to the southern coast of England.
We passed the time playing ukulele, chatting about nothing in particular, and noticing just how many sunken ships were marked on the chart. The swell was around three metres, which made for a rocky and twisty crossing. We caught a few sprays into the cockpit and hit 10.7 knots at one point.
After 12 hours, we were at the entrance to Dover Harbour. Once we had permission to enter, we navigated along the southern breakwater, readied the fenders and dock lines, hailed the marina, and were assigned a slip. Robert, the friendly harbourmaster, got us checked in. While I filled out a long form with all my details, Marc chatted him up and came away with a pub recommendation.
In the morning: coffee, cheese toasties, a walk to the train station, and farewells.
I'm now sailing toward Brighton, with the white cliffs still in view.
Next up: Guernsey, and then across the Bay of Biscay.
Bonus content
Just as I was approaching Brighton, I had a bit of a situation. The sun was dipping past the horizon, and it was time to furl the large headsail called the Code Zero.
The motor that furls the sail decided, at that moment, to stop working. I tried to figure out how to furl it manually, but came up empty. I briefly considered just continuing to sail forever, which seemed like a reasonable alternative to solving the problem.
After about ten minutes of scrambling around the boat, up to the bow on deck and then below into the bow locker to inspect the motor controller, I concluded that the only option was to drop the sail entirely.
Ten minutes after that, the sail was messily stuffed into the cockpit, the engine was on, and I was motoring back toward the marina, having completely overshot it while dealing with the whole ordeal.
