Dolphins, Docks, and a Mini Disaster

Departing Sunderland: Dolphins, Docks, and a Day of Mixed Fortunes

Once our Tesco delivery arrived and all the provisions were stowed, Nick made the decision to continue our journey from Sunderland. The instruments showed a mere 0.3 meters under the keel, giving us about an hour for the tide to rise sufficiently for a comfortable departure. The sky was overcast, but the sea was calm with a gentle breeze. If we motored, the next leg of our journey would be a quick hour and a half. Tracey had put in a special request for dolphins, as they'd been spotted in the harbor the day before.

We slipped out of the marina with ease, heading for the open sea. No sooner had we cleared the end of the piers than Tracey's wish was granted! Nick spotted a splash ahead, and Tracey raced to the bow, camera poised. At first, it seemed she'd missed them, but then a small pod of dolphins began breaching and playing alongside Halcyon Sea. Though they were heading into the harbor and didn't stay long, the mere sight was utterly magical and incredibly uplifting, filling us with renewed enthusiasm for the sea.

Tyne Transit and a Tricky Tie-Up

Grins plastered on our faces, we continued our journey. It would have been easy to motor, but we unfurled the genoa, cut the engine, and glided through the water under sail. Our speed was a leisurely 2-3 knots, but there was no rush; Royal Quays Marina accepts boats at any state of tide. We simply enjoyed the coastal views, navigating only the occasional fishing buoy that snuck up on us.

As we neared the entrance to the Tyne, we dropped sail and restarted the engine, then radioed Tyne VTS to inform them of our intentions to enter the river and proceed to the marina. Permission was swiftly granted. The Tyne is a bustling commercial port, accustomed to large vessels, but we were informed there were no planned movements during our transit. We made our way to Royal Quays Marina, turning to starboard to enter the lock. Here, you tie up on the starboard side, with no lines on the port, and the lock operates quarter to and quarter past the hour. We were the only boat entering, and having arrived at high tide, the marina staff kindly opened the lock for us slightly ahead of schedule.

Once inside and tied up, a marina staff member approached, map in hand, to show us our designated berth and offered to meet us there to help with lines – a thoughtful gesture, we believed! However, as the lock gates opened and we tried to proceed, the wind pressed us firmly against the side of the lock, raising concerns about our solar panel. Nick expertly used the fenders to push off the wall, creating just enough space to move forward out of the lock.

Making our way around the marina we turned up between pontoons E & D where we saw the helpful staff member waiting at our designated spot. We have a well-rehearsed routine for coming alongside; we know our roles and anticipate each other's moves, making even tricky conditions manageable. Unfortunately, the marina had allocated us a berth where the wind was blowing us away from the pontoon – not ideal, especially with plenty of easier spots available. The man asked for our bow line (usually Tracey's job), and she handed it over, but being out of our usual routine, she was momentarily unsure where Nick needed her next. Nick asked her to take the stern line, but by the time she moved, the stern was too far from the pontoon to reach. Unhelpfully, the man then started shouting, "You're going to hit the pontoon!" Nick remained calm, explaining his plan: "Don't worry, I'm going to use the pontoon and put some forward thrust on, which will bring the back end of the boat in." The man, however, seemed to ignore this, pushing the bow away from the pontoon. With the bow line already fixed, the boat began to swing uncontrollably. The bow ultimately nudged into a corner of the pontoon where, instead of wood, there was a metal plate – another contact. The man then suggested taking our spring line, which Tracey handed to him. As this wasn't part of our routine, the spring wasn't tightly secured to the boat, and the man managed to pull the entire rope off. Tracey, tears welling, felt a surge of panic. Eventually, we managed to get Halcyon Sea alongside, and the well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful staff member departed, leaving us to survey the minor damage. We'd "kissed" the pontoon again, and the bow would need a rub down and recoating – nothing major, but the whole scenario significantly dented Tracey's confidence.

We headed to the marina cafe for something to eat. Tracey, still visibly upset, was ready to call it a day. The incident, combined with a touch of homesickness, was truly taking its toll. We discussed the situation, questioning if we could have done anything differently, always aiming to learn from our experiences. Our conclusion was that without the external intervention, the docking would likely have been far less complicated – hindsight, as they say, is 20/20. We've decided that in the future, we'll politely request staff to simply stand by in case of genuine need, but otherwise allow us to handle our own mooring.

We plan to spend at least a couple of days here, as we still have a mountain of washing to conquer. We've also arranged to meet up with Tareena and Darren, and Nick's son, Olly, for Father's Day on Sunday. Looking at the weather, Wednesday seems like a good day for our next move, but we'll keep a close eye on the forecast. If not then, we'll likely stay here until after the weekend.Leia mais