The Elite Pathfinder Reconnaissance trip to Cherbo

BrendanS

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The Elite Pathfinder Reconnaissance trip to Cherbourg

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Off to a good start on Thursday night, with a meal and a drink or 5,6,7,8 (this sequence of numbers will take on a far greater import later in the tale).

Arriving back at the boat at Port Solent, the planned 4:00 start was overturned by a mutinous crew yelling ‘Now, Now!’, so the Elite Pathfinders set off at midnight instead.

Only 40 minutes later, about to leave Portsmouth, tcm down in the linear galley, starting the 2 day process of preparing chicken fajitas, was heard to call; ‘We’ve been under motor for nearly an hour without refuelling, surely we must be nearly there?’


Meanwhile Zefender filed CG66 passage call with Solent Coastguard, unaware that Ianinge was taking the first of numerous showers, in an excess of personal hygiene, which would result in having to refill one of water tanks with seawater by the time the Nab was reached. Wafting scents were making the crew nauseous, not diesel, not gas, not even holding tank ala Jimi, but yet another barrage of Badidas and extra High Karate, and to spare the crew, Ianinge was sent below to his cabin, after cutting loose the tender with all excess toiletries aboard.

Skipper Zefender and brother Pat demonstrated a genealogy involving an orang-utan, as Zef juggled coffee, tea, and food preparation while underway in the linear gallery, with some of the constituents parts over 14’ apart, while ex-rugby internationalist brother Pat, caught the plates of food falling from the cabin table while still seated at the top of the steps in the cockpit, all in a corkscrewing rough sea. Wind was very slight though, causing most of the trip to be under power.

An interesting discovery was made en-route! There is a raggie version of Soltron available, packaged in nice day-glo high visibility bottles and going by the name of Soltan, and after pouring a bottle in the tank…..

The Elite Pathfinders arrived 14 hours later at Cherbourg, in plenty of time for Ianainge to take another shower, but the Capitainerie was as ever closed, and even Nicho ‘Girly Bladder’ was left clamping his legs outside, awaiting his prostate exam with the doctor on Monday morning. Zefender telephoned Solent coastguard to inform of safe arrival, and after waiting some little while for the telephone to be answered, announced the arrival of ‘About Time’. “I’m sorry Sir, I did answer as soon as I could”, coastie responded.

Setting off for a meal at tcm’s acclaimed ‘best restaurant in Cherbourg’ the crew were disappointed with a meal of Croque Monsieur aka ‘Sheesh on Toast’. A rather higher standard of cuisine had been eagerly anticipated, and things became a little personal. Tcm’s subsequent foray against 15 baton wielding Gendarmerie was regarded as a highlight of Angleterre/ Francais entente cordiale, and his charge towards the harbour , and climbing of the flagstaff to retrieve the Union Jack, tearing it half loose, as he was pulled earthward, and bundled off in a heavily armoured van, was applauded loudly by both nationalities. Later released, he spent the rest of his shore leave on a rather smart green bench , declaring this was more comfortable than a raggie boat.

BrendanS arrived next morning by ferry, rousing the resting crew from a late night of recovering from rough seas, rough wine, and even rougher women, by text and telephone messages asking where the hell they were as he was at the Capitainerie’s and it wasn’t open.

The intrepid explorers spent the day putting together an information pack for the following weekend’s ‘Tailend Charlies’. The following facts have been ascertained. (please see link to photos)

1) Loos and showers are located inside the Capitainerie (Harbour Masters Office) This is never open. |At least not when you want them, ie, morning, lunch, evening.

2)The centre of all entertainment is the upmarket nightclub and the bowling centre next to the ever closed Capitainerie, though there are some interesting looking films on at the cinema in town.

3) There is an understanding that English visitors will need guiding back to the marina after an evening out, and have provided handy red and green streetlight port and starboard markers down the road. This could cause navigational issues to boats entering by sea

4) The ‘Tailend Charlies’ are eating at a lovely restaurant next weekend, and you’ll all enjoy the after effects. We did, though we did run out of Imodium, and toilet paper, and you'll have to bring your own as Cherbourg has now sold out of all such supplies.

5) There are a lot of boats in the harbour, but not a single Twister has made it across.

6) Bacofoil will make an admiral radar reflector and body warmer when wrapped all over, for ships not equipped with radar, or any modern amenities. Twisters come to mind for some reason

7) It’s not true that Stingo never leaves Brighton, and that his boat will turn turtle in the slightest ripple

After reconnoitring, plans were made to escape undetected. This was hampered by sabotage of communications gear, which made it impossible to obtain a weather forecast of any accuracy, and much time was spent talking to informants and contacts at home.

Ignoring the obviously incorrect French forecast which laughingly talked about F7’s, northerlies, and 4 to 6 metres waves, the skipper handed out rations of Stergeron and Prozac. This had the effect of making Nicho hyper active whilst everyone else pretended to sleep with F7 howling around the masts. Called ferry company with bomb threat to postpone out of season infrequent ferries, just in case we needed escape route. Original plan of leaving at midnight put back to 4:30 and everyone in bed by 22:00. After helping berth boats in with woeful tales of heavy seas and unhappy crews. At 4:30 woken by boat returning from earlier foray out. Not a happy crew. Nicho recited a running count of wind force from the cabin display. F7, F7, F7, F7, F6!, F7 , F8*!, F7.

Put back leaving time to 8:00

Nicho recited a running count of wind force from the cabin display. F7, F7, F7, F7, F6!, F7 , F8*!, F7.

Nicho bound to mast.

Tcm sitting in foetal position, and rocking back and forth, having returned from his weekend of abuse at hands of gendarmerie and sleeping on his comfortable bench

At 7:30 having run out of Prozac and Sturgeron, the skipper swallowed a Boots sea sick tablet, and decided we were going for it, as the best forecast that could be found suggested that there might, just possibly, be a little break later in the day, followed by worsening weather for next three days.

At 8:00 we were on our way, only to wave at Stingo arriving. Stingo didn’t seem to want to wave back. We couldn't tell whether or not he was actually vomiting into a bucket at the time.

8:30 with a scrap of sail up inside harbour walls, skipper aimed at wall of water outside entrance, straight into the northerly F7.

8:30 and 10 seconds. Hah! We spit in the face of danger.

8:30 and 15 seconds. Hah! We spit down face of danger

9:00 skipper Zef hands helm over to brother Pat, and falls asleep. Pretty effective these Boots sea sick tablets!

9:30 brother Pat hands helm over to a stinky, declaring he’s off below to see how long he can stay in the forecabin. Guiness book of record now confirmed longest period of weightlessness for anyone not in earth orbit, as Pat spent more time adhered to ceiling than bed.

Stinkie puts on Motor Boat Monthly cap, just in case anyone thinks he’s going over to the dark side, and takes helm … BrendanS shows how it is possible to grip wheel and remaining in position despite thousands of gallons of green water pouring over him. Zef's liberal application of superglue appeared to be doing the trick, ensuring a near permanent helming position for BrendanS who, perversely, announces he is enjoying the whole thing, apart from wishing he'd brought his aqualung.

Other boats remaining in harbour radio us for a report of conditions. Zef glows with pride at thought of Bavaria at phalanx of rough weather scenario.

Nicho quietly whispers, ‘can we take off a little speed’. Tcm cackling madly yells ‘Spinnaker’ ‘Goose wing’. Ianinge is hanging over the back trying to work out how to attach the outboard to the rudder and turn it into an outdrive.

Waves calm, weather improves, and several hours later, with all reefs shaken out and jib out, we’re doing 8 knots in slight sea and cloudless sky, and only 2 tacks to the Nab. Where the promised short gap in the weather was born out by gathering storm clouds to the south west.

After hours of overseeing the autopilot, numerous bottles of Louis Jadot Santeray 99, Nicho expresses concern about next weekends trip on a rudder operated tiller and an unrequited love for a jilted Swan 44 , cruelly dangled in front of him by Twister Kens’s twisted words. In sympathy with our brother forged in the face of near death, we rename ‘Bitter and Twisted Ken’, and laugh at Nicho’s concerns about a sea going ship with no navigation devices, loos, beds or any other amenity, discuss how lack of Twisters in Cherbourg is likely to have resulted in a large number of Twister widows back in blighty.

12 hours after leaving we’re in Port Solent, where we find tcm collapsed on floor of linear galley, where he had finally gone green around the gills, after hours of preparing Chicken Fajitas in linear galley whilst underway

Quite a trip, and we hope the ‘tailend charlies’ have a great time next weekend.


Nicho in particular is looking forward to life on a Twister.


The Elite Pathfinders


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duncan

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excellent - couldn't tell the the truth from fiction in this story at all......../forums/images/icons/smile.gif

shame you didn't have jimi with you as he would clearly have revelled in the conditions - and probably insisted on going round again just for the fun!

regret the account of the coming weekend will be dull in comparison./forums/images/icons/wink.gif

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zefender

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Every word of the above is entirely true. As you might expect, some details have been omitted to protect the innocent. Well done Brendan for managing to remember most of it so clearly(!)

Tell you what, for a quasi-stinkie, he's pretty good on the helm y'know.

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nicho

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Well done Brendan, a great account of the trip, and thanks to Zefender for the invite. Much of it is still very hazy to me for some reason though several things are stuck firmly in my mind:

1) My first night crossing of the Channel, monitoring all the commercial traffic in the shipping lanes on the radar, and keeping out of their way.

2).The return of the Oyster 37 at 04.30 Sunday, three hours after trying to escape the clutches of Cherbourg into the teeth of a Northerly F7/8 and encountering 5 metre waves and 35 knots of wind!! The crew then recalling how they were (seriously) in fear for their lives. One, being relatively inexperienced, openly admitted to weeping in terror. The look on their faces will be with me for some time! Even getting the boat back onto a pontoon was difficult, the skipper, narrowly avoiding being swept onto the rocks of the inner harbour wall!!

3) The brilliant, "full monte" english breakfast served up by Zef in big seas, and all from a linear galley - the best breakfast I've ever tasted. How he did it I don't know, 'cos I really struggled to keep on my feet just doing the washing up aferwards.

4) Ianainge's enthusiasm for the range of Alfa Romeos he was to start selling on the Monday morning in his new job (after several years as sales director in a Renault franchise). After swatting up the Alfa literature for many hours (whilst locked in his cabin on the outward run, to keep him from emptying the second water tank in his eternal quest for cleanliness), he was, when tested, still adament that the Alfa 156 is called the Laguna - doesn't bode too well for him or his future does it?

5) The solid seaworthyness of the Bavaria 40 in heavy weather- a real confidence booster for me after all the crap that is posted on the forum from time to time.

6) The lightening reactions of Zef's brother, Patrick, and his agility (you can see why he played rugby for his country - The Isle of Sheppy) when catching the breakfast plates as they fell off the cockpit table. To have seen the breakfasts all over the cockpit floor would have tipped Zef's sanity, after slaving over a hot linear galley for an hour - he was running up and down like a xylaphone player!!.

7) The raggie boat handling skills of BrendanS, left in charge solely because he was the only one not to have taken the Boots own brand seasick tablets, and the only one able to stay awake. Only afterwards did he confess to Zef that he'd recently broken the hull of his sports boat through over exuberance in rough weather!!

My biggest disappointment ? Well that has to be TCM's inability to finish his famed chicken fajita's before succombing to the green gill syndrome (he's too much of a perfectionist), and the fact the Gendarmarie did not lock him up and throw away the keys after hours of interrogation - it would have been a great picture to add the collection (he did rather add to his chances of incarceration by screaming, "f..k off, you bunch of cheese eating, surrender monkeys, I'll take the lot of you on you bunch of French pansies"). Entant Cordiale at it's finest, though his bribe of an all expenses paid, two week trip on his 25 metre motor yacht, moored in the South of France obviously paid off.

Gentlemen, I had a ball and I thank everyone of you. I'm lucky enough to be doing it all again this weekend - I do however, hope the winds are a little less boisterous!!




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sailbadthesinner

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brilliant brendan
now just tell me what are you doing leading a raggie exped?????
have they brought you over?


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bigmart

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I've said it many a time in the past. That Brendan is a closet raggie. We all know it. the only question is when will Brendan discover it & have the customary coming out party.

The only other question is can he fit a sail on that willy substitute he drives now.

Martin

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nicho

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He's been worked on - it just needs someone to click their fingers, and the hypnosis will kick in, blotting out all stinkie thoughts. He was one of the easier subjects, I think he was edging towards 'tother side already!!

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BrendanS

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The War bit would be tcm presumably? Not sure where the peace bit comes in. We were sussing the place out for this weekends main armada, and there has to be a fair bit of detail in the report or it weren't worth us going!

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BrendanS

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No, No!
I weren't leading nuffin - that was Zefenders job (and I didn't fancy being in his shoes on Sunday morning making go/no go decision) - I was purely scribe, camera operative and hanger on - though I did enjoy the helming bit when it was all roughty toughty, zooming up and down waves. Nearly as enjoyable as motorboating ;)

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BrendanS

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Well, sailing does seem to be quite enjoyable. Certainly nothing wrong with it that a couple of 400hp engines wouldn't solve - and coincidentally reduce that 12/14 hour passage time to something more acceptable

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bigmart

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Ah but, you know as well as I do that its the being out there, not the mad sprint across that counts. Your admission that the trip was ""Quite enjoyable" is what lets you down.

You'll be sporting a Breton Cap, Grey Beard & a Pipe soon. Abandon hope all ye who admit liking sailing.

Martin

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jfm

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U sure that\'s tcm? and wet patch

Great account. Re the very last pic in your album with tcm (well allegedly tcm..... I have doubts) turned green monster, what is the wet patch on the blue sofa and who did it?

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zefender

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Re: U sure that\'s tcm? and wet patch

Who else would attempt chicken fajitas in a F7? All the required evidence is there.

Wet patch doubtless caused by cleaning stains caused by pre-passage nerves. Or maybe the restaurant reconnoitered the night before for the tail-end charlies this weekend. Or maybe, just maybe, a rather wet oily was placed there. I think we should be told however and thank you for pointing it out. Forensic team booked for fact finding mission..

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