A restless night, but at 5.15 a ray of sunshine wakes me up - for the first time on this trip - through the rear window. It's just over the horizon, in the gap between the pier of Braye Harbour and Alderney itself, the last of the Channel Islands. The other boats lie like silhouettes on their moorings in front of the slowly rising sun. Our summer cruise from Saint-Malo to Portsmouth is coming to an end. The weather has been a pain in the arse over the past ten days, but now it's time for the last leg across the English Channel to the north, towards England.
The crossing should be bearable. Up to the Needles at the western entrance to the Solent, about 60 nautical miles to the north-east, the rising current from the Atlantic will push, as will the weak wind from the south-west. This is the first time on this trip that the external influences are really on our side. The cloud cover: increasing, but only as altostratus. At 8 a.m. sharp, we slip the two fore lines on the mooring ring; in around eight hours we want to be in Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight, the last harbour on the route.
Across the English Channel
I sail for four hours. As we are immediately to the east of the "Off Casquets" traffic separation scheme, our NE course is OK, but the large ships are already travelling on one-way routes. First we cross the traffic coming from the west (a tanker passes well ahead of us, we have to correct course slightly for the following bulker to allow it to pass).
All about the Gulf of Saint-Malo:
Then the same thing in reverse an hour later, when the traffic comes from the east. This time we pass at a safe distance from another tanker and a feeder with 300 additional revolutions. Sailing yachts keep coming towards us as fast as the light wind allows. At 12 o'clock I am relieved by the skipper, the high coast of Dorset is already visible as a pale outline on the port side ahead. I eat a sandwich and then lie down in my bunk, try to sleep, but only nod off once or twice at most. When I come back up, we can already see the white cliffs of Wight ahead, including the striking lighthouse at the seaward end of the Needles.
A little journey through time in Yarmouth
With the current now back from the front, tugging at the large buoys and ringing the archaic bells, the Trader stomps the last few miles up the Solent from the English Channel. Then, right on schedule, Yarmouth comes into view to starboard, a harbour the skipper knows well. The sun is back and makes the white ferry from Wight Link shine so brightly that for the first time on this trip I long for my sunglasses, which I first have to look for below deck. The church tower, the waterfront with its restaurants, and for us an allocated, rather tight berth alongside: "They squished us in," is the good-humoured greeting from the skipper of the Hallberg-Rassy in front of us.
In the evening, we choose the Bugle Coaching Inn, in front of which a group of men in traditional costumes wearing bells dances. Time seems to have stood still here; if sailors with pipes and tarred hats were actually strolling through the streets instead of yachties in docksides, the setting would fit in with Nelson's time. However, the Inn is not a classic pub, but a mainstream pub. And so the fish and chips are only marginally better than at the Lifeboat Café in Saint Helier - just twice as expensive.
The last stretch lies ahead of the "Rolling Swiss 2". And it would be a different trip if the sky wasn't overcast again today. Start at 9 o'clock. This time the wind is against the current and the foredeck is wet in no time. It's seventeen nautical miles to Portsmouth.
The last leg to Portsmouth
We cross a regatta field, pass Cowes and then, when there is enough water, cross the middle ground of Ryde Middle and the Spithead to shorten the entrance to Portsmouth Harbour under the forts and the sea wall of Haslar. On the right, almost tone on tone with the sky: the Spinnaker Tower. Further back, the broad, flat stern of one of the Royal Navy's two new aircraft carriers. We leave Gunwharf Quay to starboard as we stay on the Gosport side, where we go alongside at the petrol station.
Then we head back a little and into Haslar Marina, past the green lightship and a Border Force patrol boat. But "Searcher" doesn't seem to be interested in us. This means that the expected control measures have completely failed to materialise. Both in England itself (zero interest in Yarmouth) and on the islands. You could have told us anything. The on-board visit of the douanes in Granville remained the only one. Nice, actually!
Haslar Marina: End of cruise in Gosport
When we dock bow-first at the floating dock, the wind has almost died, of course, and the clouds are clearing. It warms up immediately. The last evening is approaching and the programme has already been decided: we want to take the passenger ferry across to Portsmouth. There we follow the Millennium Walkway to Camber Quay. The water is oily and green, you don't want to swim here, even at the highest water level. Up the stairs to the Round Tower, then down Broad Street and at its end a magnificent table on the first floor of Spice Island, one last time at the window with a view of the Spinnaker Tower. The sun comes out and a ferry ploughs past us as it comes in. It has crossed the English Channel and is coming from Saint-Malo, just like us.
