Anglesey lurked, hidden over the horizon like a feral animal waiting for prey. There was white water around the many sharp fangs of granite on the coast, and in their turn they were waiting for any mariner stupid enough to go near them. As always, someone would turn up.
Far to the East a boat put out from the Marina in Liverpool. It was barely dawn, & she was watched by a few hardy fishermen on the ‘knuckle’ by the lock. She turned slowly upwind, hovering against the new ebb while her mainsail was hoisted. A dramatic black sail against a very fine tall black mast. The knowledgeable one nodded to his friends.
“They’re putting a reef in.” He paused to light a cigarette.
“Lot of wind out there!”
The sail did not go all the way up the mast, but stopped a little bit short. The fisherman was right, the first reef was tied in, the extra cloth near the boom was tidied up, & the boat turned her bows to the sea. Her crew of three could be seen going back to the cockpit, where the lone helmsman worked the wheel. Like the sail, the mast & the boom it was black again. Against the sleek white hull she looked very smart. And fast.
With the wind now behind her, and the extra push from the tide she disappeared rapidly downriver.
“Quick boat that” The knowledgeable one again said around his fag.
“Racing boat, I guess.”
I took the engine out of gear as Max Too gathered way, put it into reverse for a few seconds to fold the propeller, then back into neutral. A quick pull on the plastic “T” of the fuel cut off, & silence descended as the engine died. Happy Days.
“Should I go on to Battery 2, Neil?” Nicola, barely visible in the entrance to the saloon called up. “Then the brew is on!” There were whoops from the other two
“Go, girl, go!” and
“Does she know how the galley works?” Were the least of them.
“Yes Please, Nic.” I called back. “We’ll be gybing by the Pier Head, but we’ll take it slow.”
That, I thought might be a tad optimistic.. The breeze was building, 18 knots at present, with 8 knots of boat speed through the water. At that point Max picked up a wave and planed for perhaps fifty metres.. 10 knots!
After nearly two years of Covid restrictions, we were on our way to our first big regatta, and this was the delivery. We had a perfect neap tide with HW Liverpool at 05.00 & a Southerly wind to take us down to Puffin Island. The plan was then to go through the Menai Strait Swellies at slack HW & wait at Caernarfon overnight.
There were four of us on board to start with, with the possibility of picking up a fifth in Caernarfon. Rob, Nicci, & me from LYC, plus Ian from Wallasey YC. We were in phone contact with Adrian, our fifth, who was working in Manchester.
A watery sun broke through the grey overcast hanging over the city as we headed on a Starboard Gybe towards the Liver Building. There was no warmth in it at all, & Ian shivered.
“Going to be a fast passage, Neil. Even with a reef in!”
“Certainly is.” I replied. “I’m just sorry we haven’t managed to get in touch with the Harbour Master at Caernarfon. Covid seems to have messed almost everything up.” I was keeping an eye on the huge liner which had just berthed opposite the Three Graces. She had a beautiful deep blue hull, red boot topping, & finished with brilliant white topsides. The very obvious red funnel with two fine black lines gave her away instantly.
“The Cunarder is impressive.” I nodded towards the fast approaching Cruise ship. “Just having Breakfast!” Rob leant over to the companionway & shouted down to Nicci below.
“Hey Nic, if you get on the radio, maybe the QM2 will send across some bacon!” Nicci poked her tousled blonde head out of the hatch.
“Wow!” She said. “That is REALLY big!” Then she called out over the grey chop “Full English please, Purser!” We all laughed. This was going to be a really nice delivery. I said so.
“Isn’t it great to get out on the water again? I feel as if we have been cooped up in the Marina for ever.” Were the wind & sea Gods listening? Laughing too?
“Stand by to Gybe. Start winding her in, Ian.” The winch handle was already in place, & it was a matter of seconds for Ian to start grinding the Starboard mainsheet Winch. The sheet on a Prima is double ended, so you can winch in or out from both sides of the boat. The trimmer normally sits on the weather side, just in front of the helmsman on the opposite side to the boom.
“Bring her to about half way?” He panted after about 20 seconds.
“Sorry, mate. Let’s bring her in to about one third.”
“Bloody Hell!” He continued to winch until the boom was almost over the quarter.
“OK, that’ll do.” He whipped the handle out, & moved quickly over to the port winch. He removed the locking turns & held the rope in a loose grip. …
“Ready” From Ian.
“Ready!” From Rob crouched low down. I waited for a bit of a gust to pass, the boat speeded up. Time to go time..
“Here we go. Gybing!” With the wheel put sharply up, the stern swung through the wind. As soon as the boom started to come across the wheel was reversed, & Ian let the sheet flow through his gloved hands. The bang as the boom crashed across was nicely muffled by the sheet release, & Max barely heeled.
“No problem.” Said Rob… “Can we do it next with the Kite?”
It was tea time now, & Nicci’s favourite brew made its welcome appearance as we ran across the river towards New Brighton. Tower East Cardinal mark passed close down our port side, & Ian was checking his boat was still OK on her mooring.
The Half-Raters were in sparkling condition as we passed; their varnish work gleaming in the watery sun, their bow waves showing white around their forefoot… Beautiful.
We were reminded of the time we spent, many years ago, surveying the Rock Channel. The booklet that was produced was in the cockpit with us today.. Ready for action!
It was soon time to make the turn into the Rock Channel; past the lighthouse, the fort, and the green topped perch. There is often a chop of white water here where the two channels meet.. This is the deepest part of the Rock, but unfortunately the part where the swirls upset your Echo Sounder the most!
As the guide says.. “Take a deep breath & go through it…”. Easy to say…
As we bombed past the perch, perhaps 2 lengths to port, & doing 10 knots over the ground, sure enough the Shallow Depth alarm went off. The read out suddenly jumping between 20 metres & zero… Forewarned was certainly forearmed, & we ignored it. Later the crew reckoned I still went a bit pale!
“Did you know.” Said Ian. “That the Rock Channel was the original entrance to the Mersey?”
Sensing that our friend from Wallasey Yacht Club might be a mine of information, there was a unanimous shaking of heads.
“Go on!” From Rob. “Tell all.”
Ian settled back onto the quarter, head on the life raft lashed there.
“What do you know about the Hoyle Lake?”
“It’s a town” Nic & I replied almost simultaneously…. “Isn’t it?.” We had spotted Ian’s smile.
“Gotcha! Hoylake is named after The Hoyle Lake which existed back in the 15, & 16 hundreds.” He smiled at our collective blank stares.
“The Hoyle lake was a really big, and deep patch of water at the far end of the Wirral. Ships could anchor there safely whilst their cargoes were unloaded & transferred to lighters then taken to Liverpool. The lighters would come along this part of the coast, the Rock Channel. It was the ONLY route into the Mersey. There was no Crosby channel until the late 1800’s” He looked smug.
“Ta-daaaa!”
“You mean the lake was sheltered?”
“Yes.” Ian was really getting into the history. “The sandbanks were so high around it they were dry at high water neaps…. It really was a lake!”
I managed to find a copy of an old chart which shows this odd patch of water dating from the mid 1700’s… (Shown above) Ian was absolutely correct! It also explains the reason for the strange unused lighthouses at Leasowe, & Hoylake. They were “Daymarks” or leading lights for getting into the lake.
Ian’s description of the old Rock Channel took us through the new one in fine style, & within an hour we were passing HE2 cardinal mark making a steady 8-9 knots with the one reef.
The passage was now settling down. Every hour we would write up the log, taking it in turns, & using the hand bearing compass to get regular fixes on the paper chart.
“Have you ever had the GPS signal go down.” Asked Nicci, as she wrote down the coordinates in the log.
“Not the GPS, but the old Decca had a dreadful habit of dying just at the wrong time. The first time was with daughter Sarah, when she was 10, coming back from Cornwall. I nearly had a fit.. It was 3am & pitch black as well!”
There was much laughter, and comments about “Which war was that, Daddy?” But the cold sinking feeling of that solitary red light on the Decca set in the middle of the Bristol Channel stayed with me for an hour or so. Long live GPS!
The course from HE2 depends on whether you are going to the South towards the Menai Straits, or North towards Holyhead. Dead in front, right in the way, is a mass of wind turbines stretching from Point of Air to the Great Orme. You can, of course go through the windfarm, but if the visibility suddenly drops the thought of getting too close to those pylons was not a good one! We hung left, to the south; putting a waypoint in towards Colwyn Bay, then turning back North for the Orme.
All this time, I was, as usual asleep. I have a habit of getting my head down during the middle of a passage but trying to be bright at the ends, when things tend to go wrong!
So it was I woke to hear heavy rain drumming on the deck above my berth. A peep out of the companionway confirmed it.. Rain lashing down, the sea a uniform grey mass, & the Great Orme a vague greyer mass behind & to windward. I struggled into heavy weather gear & reappeared in the cockpit with a few cups of rum loaded cocoa which made up in part for my absence in the rain.
“Bloody Hell, Skip!”
“Wet or what?”
“Was that lightning?”
The downpour was relentless, & made worse by sudden lulls then gusts in the wind. Still from the South, but definitely colder.. A classic front, no less. It was going to be fun getting the Main down… I thought.
“Guys, got an idea!”
A quarter of an hour later we were really close in to Puffin Island, completely in its lee, with the engine ticking over & holding us into what was left of the wind. Don’t you just love an Autohelm! With four of us it was dead easy to drop the sail & get it flaked onto the boom. Though the rain was a pain, it had the advantage of flattening the sea to absolutely nothing. You would have thought we were on an inland lake.
“Glad we did that!” Said Nic. “Time for another brew?”
We trundled up the Straits fairly easily. The buoys were clearly seen even through the viz, but if anything the rain got heavier, right up to Menai Bridge pier & a berth on the Prinz Madog.
We squelched up to the Liverpool Arms in full foul weather gear… When it stopped. Dead. Just like that!
The good news is, The Liverpool Arms has heaters in its outside patio area. Perfect for Drowned Rats!
“Hiya, all!”
“Bloody Hell, Aide. What happened to Manchester?”
It’s dead easy to forget about AIS once it’s fitted… Aide had been following our progress on his mobile, & had worked out where we would be.. So much for a Stealth Approach…
“I watched you with the binoculars come through Puffin Sound…Getting petrol.. Got here ¼ of an hour ago… Beer anyone?”
“Oh Yes!”
Those outdoor heaters were absolutely amazing… Steam came rapidly off the foulies, & we happily existed in a gentle fug of water vapour, beer, and white wine. Plus Moules Mariniere with crusty bread all round.
“We know how to live!” Ian toasted the Liverpool Arms with a second beer, to general agreement, then it was back to the boat for a tiny kip before the transit through the Swellies.
At ½ hr before HW Liverpool we were all set up hovering by the first bridge… It all looked good & we gently motored under Telford’s 200 yr old Suspension bridge on the mainland side. The tide was definitely slack, but the odd powerful swirls, just now & then, made us realise just how dreadful it might be if we had got it wrong. NB If you haven’t seen it from below, the bridge is fantastic!
Reading the Almanac, no sailor in his or her right mind would go near the place, but with some forethought & a lot of planning… Piece of Cake!
Travelling from Menai Bridge towards Caernarfon you basically keep over to the mainland side.. (The Left!) looking out for, & passing clear of “Swelly Rock”. Once past that its straight down the left hand span of the second & final bridge, (Stephenson’s) keeping dead in the middle of the arch.
The last part of the Straits from the Swellies to Caernarfon is pretty straightforward, provided you keep a good lookout for the buoys. There is a bit of a ‘dogleg’ just past the moorings at Plas Menai, where we moved across to the island side for a while. Otherwise it’s OK.
Remember the direction of buoyage changes at Caernarfon, but by then you have locked into Caernarfon Marina itself, AND Tomorrow is another day!
Words by Neil Thomas
