What is the most hairy harbour / marina entry you have ever faced??

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paul salliss

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We went to Camber Sands to meet friends for lunch today and went for a long lovely walk along the sands, and ended up beside the entrance to Rye Harbour, WOW, the tide was screaming in, and the fishing boats were coming around the port hand marker, and ferry gliding all the way down to the harbour entrance, before a strong burst of power gave them the oomph to get into the river, looked interesting, very little margin for error clearly, loads of local knowledge on hand
 
I had to do the same going into Brighton marina with a large cross entrance wave pattern, let the waves push me sideways as I lined up , then went in entrance full power, followed by total power off then turn before you hit the wall, interesting day that was.
 
Hi Julie, funny you should say that, our first boat was an Antares 30 , she was launched in Brighton and we had only had her a week when we went out for the day and had to face a hairy ride back in, we were advised with Brighton to ignore the speed limits and just go for it to get clear of the wall
 
Port Patrick, SW Scotland with a big sea astern. Keep to the leading line but it looks as if you are heading towards the rocks, sharp turn to port at the last moment and enter the calm of the inner harbour. Then crew (SWMBO) had to climb the harbour wall in a thunder storm. Perhaps not my most popular landfall!
 
paul salliss said:
We went to Camber Sands to meet friends for lunch today and went for a long lovely walk along the sands, and ended up beside the entrance to Rye Harbour, WOW, the tide was screaming in, and the fishing boats were coming around the port hand marker, and ferry gliding all the way down to the harbour entrance, before a strong burst of power gave them the oomph to get into the river, looked interesting, very little margin for error clearly, loads of local knowledge on hand
Click to expand...

As a Rye resident I'd agree with you,the pilotage does suggest that in strong winds it can be interesting.

For me Portpatrick and Strangford remain etched in my memory as serious 'puckering' moments
 
Cobbs Quay Marina on this berth in a force 6/7 crosswind... I think the reception misheard the size of the boat!
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Secretly quite proud of that one though :)

Getting out of the Marina in Windsor was a bit of a nightmare as there was not enough room to turn in the fairway so I had to back out. For all the jokes people make about boating on the river, it doesn't half sharpen up your handling skills with locks etc.
 
Many years ago we used to own a Fairline Turbo 36. It was only our 2nd season of boating and to say we were inexperienced and green was an understatement. I should add that this was before the days of GPS and chart plotters and we only had paper charts and a Decca navigator, which I didn't really know how to use properly, by way of navigational aids. Not knowing any better, we decided to visit the N Brittany coast for our summer hols. Miraculously we had survived the best part of 2 weeks without hitting a rock and found ourselves holed up in the locked harbour of Morlaix sitting out a SW gale. By the late afternoon of the third day of waiting, we were getting fed up and when the wind seemed to drop a notch and the sun made an appearance, we decided to make a bolt for it and caught the last lock out of the harbour. We soon realised our mistake when we got out into the river estuary and found that the wind was still howling but it was too late to head back to Morlaix as, of course, we'd taken the last lock to get out so we turned east out of the estuary and rode the huge eastgoing swell with the intention of going to Perros-Guirec. Despite the fact that the tops of the waves were higher than the flybridge, we were going with the waves and tide and the boat was romping along nicely, in fact so nicely that I decided to give Perros-Guirec a miss and keep on going to Lezardrieux despite the fact that I hadn't plotted any courses on a chart or entered any waypoints in the Decca or even consulted a pilot book. Anyway by mentally ticking off the buoys and lighthouses on the chart, we found ourselves off Lezardrieux and then turned SW to get into the river. Of course by turning SW we were now heading into the teeth of the gale and to add to our woes, it started to rain but at the same time there was the setting sun under the clouds just off the starboard bow so not only were we bashing into a head sea into the estuary but we couldn't see anything anyway because of the rain and being blinded by the sun. I should add that we were still driving from the flybridge so we were getting soaked as well. After a few minutes, disaster struck; I had been steering with one hand and holding the paper chart with the other. A gust of wind blew the chart out of my hand and clean overboard so now all we had was the pilot book. The SWMBO bravely went below to get the pilot book but it took us quite a long time to find the right page and the chartlet didn't really help us getting into the river. How hard can it be I thought so we just kept ploughing on into the river not really knowing what was under us. Anyway somehow we made it into the river but our travails were not finished. By the time we reached the marina it was dark and it was still raining; we hung around outside the marina hoping that somebody would hail us but nobody came and worse, the marina looked to be completely full. Reluctantly we then started mooching around outside the marina looking for spare buoy mooring. By this time I'd given up on the pilot book because it was too dark to read it so I merrily motored around with the only thought in my head being to find something solid to tie up to. Eventually we found what looked like an old tug boat and rafted up against it. We cooked a steak and downed it with a bottle of red wine or 2 and a steak never tasted so good. We slept the sleep of the just and the righteous that night. In the morning, I staggered out onto the deck and nearly had a heart attack. All around us were sharp jagged rocks about which we had been blissfully unaware the previous night. Of course what had happened was that by leaving the locked harbour at Morlaix and heading east, we had been following the flood tide and by blind luck had managed to blunder into the Lezardrieux river right at the top of the tide so all of the rocks which I was now seeing were covered over. How we didn't strike one, I don't know to this day.
A couple of days later we pitched up in Guernsey and were moored up in St Peter Port against a large French yacht with an obviously experienced skipper on board. I happened to mention casually that we'd been out at sea a couple of days previously and he was aghast that I'd been so stupid so as to put myself and my SWMBO at risk in such conditions especially in a 'little' motor boat. I didn't dare mention that we'd also managed somehow to navigate into the Lezardrieux estuary without a chart, without plotting any courses and without really consulting a pilot book:eek: Ooops
 
Limehoue marina on the tidal Thames when on the ebb , marina had advised us that no one comes in on the ebb, but as there are no moorings ,to hang on we decided to give it a go, they advised us to keep hard over to starboard side, but as the tide was pushing us down that way,Decided that I new best, when we entered the lock entrance the water that was rebounding of the the starboard wall pushed the bow of the boat hard over to the port side wall, luckley we managed hit reverse and just miss it,the wall bares the scrapes of plenty that did,t make it in,
Found out that this is a much favoured source of amusement for the pub that's by the lock :)
 
That's a great post, loved reading that, years ago my Dad had a Moonraker 36, no radar, we went to St Peter Port and got caught in dense fog, he was crawling along at 3/5 knots trying to look for the harbour entrance with us all listening to the harbour fog siren, we got a bit lost and there were screams when one of us kids spotted a big rock a few feet away, somehow we made it , don't know how, I was probably about 14, previous day we had been in a storm, my mum had a fall and gashed her head, what must we have looked like on arrival in st Peter Port knackered and a bashed Up Mum with a bandaged head
 
This is the story of my hairiest harbour entry...

The next day dawned misty again, and we set off down the coast towards Figueira da Foz. Periodically the fog banks rolled over us, and Wild Rose would disappear and re-appear like a ghost ship beside us. While motoring through the fog, a small bird, evidently exhausted and disoriented, landed on board, then hopped down below where we fed it and made it an improvised nest. It flew off a little while later, apparently to visit Wild Rose. After a few hours, as we were approaching Figueira da Foz, the fog seemed to clear a bit, and we could catch the occasional glimpse of the low, featureless coastline. We could also hear, very clearly, the sound of the huge waves crashing ashore. Occasionally we would catch glimpses of local fishing boats.

We had to get in fairly close before we could pick out the harbour entrance and, as we got closer, the waves got steeper. There are two large breakwaters sticking out some way into the sea. Well inside them is a central mole; to the left of this is the entrance to the port. To the right are some rocks, and a beach. Wild Rose was heading in perhaps 100 yards ahead of us; ahead of him was a large steel trawler, maybe 80 feet long. As we got closer, we could see that some of the waves were breaking right across the harbour entrance. I turned to Sarah and said "I don't think I like this very much". We got out safety harnesses and clipped on, then closed up the main hatch. It was getting to be hard work keeping the stern on to the waves, while steering to port between waves so that we'd make the channel entrance and not the mole. By this time, turning back out to sea didn't seem like a good option. If one of those waves caught us broadside on.....

Suddenly, a wave started breaking just in front of Wild Rose. The trawler was caught like a toy and carried in broadside on for some way. Then, belching black diesel smoke, it managed to get back under control. This was seriously worrying. There was no turning back now. Looking astern, we waited for what looked like a relatively calm spell, then headed in under full throttle. Whichever guardian angel looks after foolish yachties must have been on duty that day; we made it. When we got into the marina (no anchoring or buoys in Figueira da Foz), we went to the office to complete the interminable Portuguese formalities. The harbour master seemed surprised to see us, and asked us how the entrance had been. We told him. He nodded sagely. In retrospect, after the trip, we both agreed that this had been the scariest point of the whole voyage.

We later learned that the daymarks were up, indicating that entry was unsafe. Of course, they had been quite invisible from the sea in the fog. Later, we walked down the breakwater and watched the sea. It had calmed a bit, as the tide had risen, but it still looked nasty. We also learned that they were going to be holding a surfing championship there in three days time. We thought it an excellent choice.

Figueira da Foz is a seaside resort, quite large, and quite a pleasant place really. It had the somnolent air of most such places outside the holiday season. We had to stay for three days before the daymarks came down to announce that it was safe to leave. It was the day of the surfing championship. Needless to say, the sea was as calm as a millpond.
 
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Coming out of Arcachon on the french atlantic coast.

I had read the book about when to leave but just miscalculated. Bugger me.

The waves as we went over the bar were simply terrifying. We were in a 10m boat and I would swear on my kids lives that the waves were the same height as the boat - but they were probably smaller!

There was me, the wife and our 2 year old daughter. The boat went up, up and up and then DOWN. Fortunately I did drive up the waves. My wife suggested turning round but I was certain this was a bad idea as we would simply have rolled over.

Our 2 year old was saying "wif way daddy" which was her version of this way daddy. I had no better ideas and followed her suggestions a few times!

It lasted maybe 2-3 minutes and was the worst thing i have ever had happen in a boat by a factor of 10. The boat survived, but most of the crockery did not.

If you visit Archachon, do read the instructions in the pilot guide, and then do your calculations again just to be sure!
 
Our scariest was probably Dover - just after this photo was taken
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Spring tides westerly entrance - wondering if we could turn into the harbour without smashing against the southern breakwater.
Compounded by one stuck windscreen wiper - instructions being shouted from someone looking out of another window.
 
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