Keeping those Sea-legs.

Sorry the posts have got erratic. That's what one gets for going to sea, but, not having done so for a year now, I badly needed to do it, so I am helping boatbuilder Alec to deliver a boat from Nazaré to Devon. 

Alec on the wheel approaching Finisterre.

     The Calypso is a heavy old steel ketch. She has a strong hull, two fine diesel engines, good steering with a dodgy autopilot. Alec is pressing on, motor-sailing, a somewhat tedious business, but it is very good to be on the Gannetsway  again.

Leaving the Islas Cies.

In the Canal de Sagres off Pta Falcoeiro.

With me, it's not just a matter of making sure that I still have those sea-legs. The sea has always been my therapy for the confusion that so often surrounds us. To know what is true and false, right and wrong in the elemental way that is vital at sea, despite being thrown around, blinded by fog and all the rest of it, keeping one's sense of direction nonetheless; all this is the great gift that the sea imparts to her lovers! It is surprising how neatly it fits the moral sphere, and will carry through to it if you let it!
     When we reached the harbour at Finisterre, we were delighted to find a new pontoon inside the entrance, providing berths for visitors and shelter for the boats inside. Here is the Calypso tied up to it:-

The engineering is superb; exactly what's needed at Baltimore. If there is any doubt that these lads know what they are doing, how about this for a champion mooring set-up? 

And this for a grand wee netter?


That grey cloud and mist has been with us a lot, though the passage of Biscay was calm. It takes the two photos below, of one of the Arklow ships heading for Ireland, to show that lazy old swell.

We arrived at Camaret, just south of Brest in Brittany, on Saturday afternoon. I wandered over to the church to see what time Mass was to be; it turned out to be the day when they headed out to the Pointe de Penhir, to celebrate Mass for the veterans of the Force de France Libre at the monument to them there.

It is a spectacular site, overlooking theTas de Pois:

The fact that the grey mist turned to rain half-way through Mass did not seem to matter, though I felt sorry for the priest who got a right wetting. General de Gaulle's simple proclamation and call to arms from London in 1940 was read out, and a very old man evoked the young men who had responded from these parts. I could only make out parts of his speech, but gathered he was talking about them heading for England in small boats, leaving all they held dear for a very uncertain future indeed. As St Paul had it in the reading: 'Frères, nous gardons toujours confiance, tout en sachant que nous demeurons loin du Seigneur, tant que nous demeurons dans ce corps; en effet, nous cheminons dans la foi, non dans la claire vision.' It was a moving ceremony, and for me the combination of patriotism and catholicism worked, for once. 

     General de Gaulle's appeal was all the more effective for its reference to universal values, rather than merely national pride. Of course most politicians try that card; then what do they base such appeal on? Anyway, what was the alternative for those young men? I have sometimes asked myself whether, with time, we would not perhaps have arrived eventually more or less where we are now, had the Nazis been left unfought; but even if so, and it is a big 'even', how many would have died in concentration camps in the meantime?
     It's a pity some appear not to have learned, or to have forgotten, the lesson. The price of true liberty and human flourishing is continuous spiritual and moral struggle. Our Irish Taoseach thinks he can force Catholic institutions to provide abortions. He has clearly indicated that he expects that to be on similar terms to the ones available in that sad (dis)United Kingdom. I suggest he might be better advised, or at least  more honest, to set up Leo Varadkar Clinics for the Elimination of Unwanted Lives, rather than assault the moral integrity of those who have devoted themselves to the preservation of human life.
     Old stones on the road to the Pointe de Penhir indicate the age-old struggle of mankind to get things straight!

The Megaliths of LagatJar.