The Spray is Flying....

The spray is flying, the sea is heaped and blattered every which way at the mouth of Horseshoe Bay. The Anna M is heaving at her lines and I am in her cabin, a little haven of relative tranquillity. I came aboard this morning and now it would be rather difficult to get ashore with the wash that’s on the rocks. So now for a blog, while from time to time I cast an anxious eye upon the lines.

The critical bits attached to the rocks are heavy braided warps which washed in here over the years, gifts from Old Man Sea who must have robbed them off some storm-tossed deck. The set-up is fine so long as they stay looped around their rocks when the swells are trying to lift them off. One has to anticipate the weak points and do something about them in good time, and always have a second string to fall back on! Life being full of weaknesses, it is a fine balance to remain alert without getting neurotic.

The blessed relief of summer is coming to an abrupt end; that brief respite when one can stand back a little and relax! I hope that many of you readers have been able to do this, like me, since my last blog, and won’t have missed it. Actually it was probably all the visitors round these parts that took the internet down, which was what actually made me take a break from writing - along with the building and sailing to Clare for a family get-together (and a sniff of the West coast).

A poor summer there again, it seems. The high pressure has been hanging out to the south-west, and we have just scraped a reasonable share of it here in Sherkin, though it has stayed cool. People say, what’s that about global warming? The answer seems to be that all the melting ice has kept the North Atlantic cool, blocking the circulation of warm water, forcing the Gulf Stream further south.

You always get the wee fine spells though, and Fiona and I had a good sail up to Clare, for a lovely family get-together at our John’s house near Carrigaholt. What with insulation and modern windows and imagination, he has made a fantastic job of what was another rather cold and damp stone cottage, having managed to enhance the cottagey atmosphere while making it comfortable.

Fiona went off grandmothering then, and Con Minihan (who lost his ‘e’ above in Clare) sailed back down with me. His grandfather came from Sherkin, but his father ended up in Clare, having found work sailing a trading smack around the Shannon Estuary. Con finished up with a farm on its shore near Kilrush. What fun to find another link between the two places!

We had a cushy sail with mainly SSE wind as far as the Blaskets, complete with mackerel for lunch and a fine pollack for supper; however once there we faced a stiff beat across to Valentia. It seemed a good idea to tack on down to the west of the Great Blasket, but we unexpectedly found ferocious squalls in its lee; still, having rounded it, we could nearly lay Valentia on the other tack. Those Blaskets once again proved a spectacular but very dodgy place!

We found good shelter for the night in Glanleam Bay, Valentia Harbour, and next morning it was warm and sunny. I swam, and our Fionnuala and Anto and his family, holidaying nearby, showed up. The afternoon brought a typical Irish contrast, with mist on the strong SE wind; still a gang of them came aboard and sailed for Port Magee, on the other side of the island. Then they got a taste of the real North Atlantic, though we were in the lee of the land. There was a heave in the sea, the surf and spume were gnawing away at the haggard rocks, while gannets floated like snowflakes against the tall dark cliffs above. A great way to get to enjoy fish and chips and a pint in a snug bar!

Next morning the wind hauled round NW, even as Con and I faced out into the still heaving and misty sea. It got better all the way, and once past the Mizen was positively peachy. Anna M loved it, and we made Horseshoe Bay in less than twelve hours. Here the flowers reproached me for not bringing Fiona back, for their all to brief glory is under threat of a sudden end, as the first storm of autumn sweeps in.

I spare a thought for Mrs May-or-May-Not, because I should think her bit of respite will come to a similar kind of end shortly. However, the EU could do itself and her a favour, and possibly even keep Britain aboard, if it took the opportunity to consider what has gone wrong, and how to reconnect with its citizens. It must overcome the Napoleonic tendency, of which I shall mention three examples, and make a renewed effort to apply the essential twin principles of solidarity and subsidiarity.

My three examples are Greece, the way in which the Irish taxpayers were virtually forced to meet the massive liabilities of the banks, and the Common Fisheries Policy; but let’s just briefly talk of the latter, since it is the only one of which I have much knowledge. The only effective way to establish effective conservation is with the full engagement of the fishermen and other stakeholders. A sense of ownership is necessary, but not the kind of a few big capitalists in cahoots with the banks. Neither does such ownership have to be on a national basis. Let the relevant stocks of fish be our guide! More regional institutions are needed, and more regional consciousness to go with them, which is the kind of thing I’m trying to foster on the Gannetsway!

So now, with the wind pulling round to the West, things are beginning to settle again in Horseshoe Bay; but with the equinox on the way, I shall not chance to face another bad forecast on a spring tide here. Time to head south again shortly, to find that winter berth on the sweet Guadiana again, well away from this most unruly North Atlantic! Tony Whelan has signed up for the trip, but that still leaves room for more. Anyone out there like to sail for Spain around September 10th?

Photos by Fiona. I've mislaid my camera!

Fiona at the wheel.