Setting Sail for Dover

Setting Sail for Dover - Sunshine, Sea Surfing, and a Few Pre-Port Jitters!

The day dawned bright and breezy, a picture-perfect start to our passage to Dover. Tracey and Pepper embarked on their usual morning stroll, the rhythmic pounding of paws on the promenade perhaps mirroring the nervous energy Tracey was walking off. Meanwhile, Nick was a hive of activity aboard Halcyon Sea, meticulously prepping everything for our departure. By 10 am, our planned time to slip the lines, a palpable sense of anticipation filled the air.

We eased away from our berth and waited our turn at the fuel pontoon, topping up our tanks before heading for the lock gates and the open sea. Our little Pepper, usually a breakfast enthusiast, seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. Her appetite had vanished, a clear indication that she knew a journey was imminent. We're still working on the elusive art of boat-based potty breaks for her; her current strategy seems to involve a strategic refusal of food and water! To help her relax, we administered her calming treats, which usually lull her into a peaceful slumber for most of the voyage.

And then, it was time. We exited the lock and motored out into the English Channel. Once safely past the safe water mark and after a careful scan to ensure no pesky lobster pots lay in wait, Tracey turned Halcyon Sea 180 degrees, pointing her into the gentle breeze. Up went the sails, catching the wind with a satisfying whoosh, and there we were, finally sailing towards the iconic white cliffs of Dover!

The familiar coastline of Pevensey Bay, Bexhill, and Hastings slid past, each a marker of our eastward progress. The rolling green hills gradually gave way to a more rugged outline. Rounding the headland at Hastings, a glance astern revealed Beachy Head as a distant speck on the horizon, while ahead, the hazy form of Dungeness began to emerge. Halcyon Sea handled beautifully, and despite sailing slightly off our intended track due to the wind's playful nudges, we were making excellent time. The sun shone down, and we even enjoyed a bit of wave surfing, the boat gliding smoothly over the swells. Our initial worries began to ebb away with the miles.

In the distance, the unmistakable silhouette of Dungeness Power Station loomed, a stark contrast to the natural beauty of the coastline. The steady stream of ships in the shipping channel served as a reminder of the busy waterway we were now sharing. Soon, the inevitable moment arrived: a gybe! We prepared for the maneuver, and thankfully, it went smoothly. However, with the boat now more beam-on to the sea, the ride became noticeably bumpier. The water swirled around us, giving us a rather corkscrew-like motion from the stern quarter. It was a swift reminder that our stowage skills still needed some refinement as a few rogue items took flight across the saloon – a mental note for future voyages! Pepper, a little concerned by the sudden change in motion, came seeking a reassuring cuddle before settling back down. A distant cluster of lobster pots prompted us to heighten our vigilance, both pairs of eyes scanning the water ahead. Nick's steady hand on the helm soon had Halcyon Sea, and consequently us, settling into the rhythm of the new sea state.

Folkestone harbour and the outer breakwater of Dover gradually appeared on the distant horizon. With around four hours still to go until we reached our destination, our minds began to race with the logistics of entering a busy port. The wind had picked up, and with the late afternoon chill setting in (still April!), we wrapped up warmer and put on some upbeat tunes to keep our spirits high.

Two miles from Dover Harbour, protocol dictates a call to Dover VTS to announce our intentions. Ours was to enter the harbour, not just pass by. Nick made the call, his voice calm and clear. Tracey, who had been surprisingly composed throughout the journey thus far, suddenly felt a wave of nervousness wash over her. Despite her complete trust in Nick's meticulous planning, she felt like a complete novice. We were still sailing, and the moment to drop the sails was fast approaching. With the wind now behind us and the sea a little more erratic, Tracey's mind was a whirlwind of forgotten procedures. We ran through the harbour entrance plan, the theory clear, but the unpredictable nature of the sea amplified Tracey's self-doubt. The advice was to call Dover VTS again when 200 meters from the harbour entrance to request permission to enter. As if to underscore the maritime activity, the Dover lifeboat was just outside the breakwater on a practice exercise – a reassuring sight, Tracey thought, should anything go awry.

The time came to turn Halcyon Sea head to wind to drop the sails. While the sea state wasn't particularly rough, to Tracey, it felt like we were being thoroughly stirred, a decidedly uncomfortable sensation. Sails stowed and permission granted to enter the harbour, we made our way through the breakwater. The water within the confines looked deceptively calmer. Once inside, the final call to Dover VTS was permission to enter the yacht marina. Once granted, a sharp turn to the left and a call to the marina for our berth assignment was made. We were so close!

The marina staff directed us to berth F147, port side to, meaning fenders and ropes needed to be on the left. Tired from the journey and the emotional rollercoaster, Tracey struggled with the weight of the fenders and ropes, failing to secure the spring line properly. The wind was pushing us away from the pontoon, and Tracey couldn't quite make the jump. After two unsuccessful attempts, Nick made the wise decision to call the marina and request the vacant berth on the other side of the pontoon. What followed was a less-than-graceful reverse into our new spot. Successful, yes, but certainly not our smoothest docking.

In that moment, Tracey jokingly (but with a hint of seriousness) declared her readiness to trade the seafaring life for a motorhome. Tears welled up as she took a very relieved Pepper for a much-needed walk ashore. Tracey then visited the marina office to pay our dues and collect the essential access key cards and marina guide. Finally, at 8:45 pm, the siren call of fish and chips was answered. Exhausted, exhilarated, and profoundly relieved, we devoured our supper before collapsing into bed. The journey was complete. We had travelled for 10 hours and 20 minutes and 9 of those hours had been under sail, that felt like an achievement itself. Dover had been conquered.Read more