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www.Tectona.org.uk
Welcome to the Tectona Trust website
TECTONA off Bolt Head by Gordon Frickers (1978)
Looking beyond… Then seeing it through…
Log of Tectona Delivery.
Chapter 3 – Vigo to Plymouth.
Tuesday 29th April. Vigo.
At 1130 six days and two hours out from Cartagena,
we come alongside a Vigo fuel pontoon to the
usual friendly Spanish welcome.
Vigo’s Marina Bouzas has neither boozers nor to
be honest a completed marina. The showers are
shared with the workers in a large marine hangar
and are both filthy and inadequate. The staff are
charming and charge for everything – but then this
is a marina.
Vigo is a large city with shops and night life, and
Tectona’s crew celebrate in sailorly style.
In between trips ashore I spend some time observing, just looking at Tectona. I am now getting fewer spasms of bitten-off-more-than-you-can-chew-ism but renewed communication with the outside world brings a reminder that jobs remain to be done at home.
Certainly the plans for the days between arrival and taking her to the boatyard at Polruan are sketchy. I can’t quote a day for arrival and yet I’m aware of the differing needs of individual people on board – some to get ashore and away as soon as possible, others needing their bunk (and ideally the ability to come and go easily) for a day or two longer.
I idealise this time as a few days of respite from wind, waves and planning; a party on board with people coming to renew their acquaintance with an old ship. A chance to revive memories of an unforgettable experience in their teenage years when they discovered much about themselves, about relationships with the world and other people. Maybe they discovered, as we have, the unique way a ship can bond different people together as an effective and happy team.
Having completed 1500 miles of her 1950 mile delivery trip, Tectona herself has certainly changed. The dust of Port Napoleon has long since washed off, and though still tatty she looks clean and active. Her sails are stowed neatly on their spars, halyards and sheets at the ready. She has also acquired some of the subtle marks of a long distance sailing boat – rust streaks around the chain plates, loose paint washed off the topsides, everything on deck lashed down, patches of salt crystals on the deckhouse roof.
For 48 hours we relax and restock the ship for the final leg. The weather is now forecast via various sources on-line. A mid-Atlantic depression is prophesied to travel north-west, with pressure building through the English Channel and into Biscay. The resulting moderate / fresh SE breeze would be ideal for us, but how much can we trust this forecast? It predicts that the weather will act in a very unusual way – after all, Atlantic depressions generally travel from left to right… I’m looking at Martin, he’s looking at me and we know what is going on in each other’s head – the classic sailor’s ‘go or stay’ dilemma.
Early on Wednesday and after a late night ashore, the forecasts are the same; we can’t decide. By lunchtime we conclude that the met men know their job, and we’ll go for it. Plans to go ashore to sight-see are rapidly replaced by last minute shopping for spare engine oil and fresh fruit. At 1530 with 550 miles to go across Biscay, we slip from alongside and motor down the ria toward the open sea between the islands of the Canal del Norte.
The conditions outside confirm the tail end of the bad weather is still about. A swell of perhaps 5m gives us a bouncy ride but nothing to compare with the heavy motion of cargo vessels we pass. As night comes on it is still stugeron weather but, now with little wind, we are making good progress under power.
Thursday 1st May
0200 we pass Cape Finisterre 30
miles to starboard.
Even out here the conditions are
bouncy given the light wind.
By dawn we are clearing the land
and are now committed to the
passage – no turning back!
A day at sea passes. I come off
watch at 0800 after my first night
free of the dreaded fishing fleets.
After a slice of wonderful bread
freshly baked by Dave and some
fruit along with a hot cup of tea, I turn
in for a couple of hours. The ‘trainee’
accommodation on Tectona has
proved to be much better than it
looked. The bunk cushions are firm
but adequate, stowage for personal
items is reasonable and the strong
high lee cloth not only gives you
security against being thrown out,
but also creates a real sense of
personal space when the reality is
6 individuals sharing a floor space
about 6ft by 12. I think we all snore
a bit but no-one complains, and my
anxieties about irritating queues for
the single heads were unfounded –
the watch system means there is
rarely more than one person needing
to use it at any one time.
Friday 2nd May
By noon we are half way across the Bay of Biscay. The nearest land is 180M astern, or two miles beneath as we cross the Abyssal Plain.
The forecasters had it right and a force 4-5 breeze is filling in from the SE.
At last Tectona is once more under full sail, the noise of the engine is replaced by the swish of the waves outside the hull and the creaking of the joints within. A sense of peace and satisfaction is palpable. The ship’s speed improves to 7 ½ knots or more during Dave’s watch. His assertion that this is due to his watch’s skill at sail trimming is countered with arguments about luck with the wind and the fact that everyone was sleeping on the windward side…
Watch follows watch in a familiar and comfortable rhythm. During the night a family (or maybe just a bunch of mates) of dolphins stay with the ship for 6 or 7 hours. It is moonless and the phosphorescence makes bright patterns in the water as they cross and re-cross their tracks around the bows. Tectona tramps along under full working canvas and I stand up for’ard and watch the bow wave. Time seems not to exist as I think of all the other dolphins and other sailors who have experienced this magic.
Saturday 3rd May
By late afternoon the wind is falling away and we have to restart the engine. Hands are called on deck to trim the sails for perhaps our final night at sea. By 2200 we are 20M west of Ushant.
Sunday 4th May.
I find myself thinking, “Better finish off the marmalade” as I come off watch on our final morning. Under a grey sky the English Channel is in a gentle mood. We motor onward, main and stays’l to steady her. The fishing boats now behave predictably.
The atmosphere on board is changing.
People’s preoccupation and concern
is shifting from preparing themselves
for their watch, keeping up to date with
the navigation or looking around to see
if anything needs doing.
The present may be on board Tectona
but the future is now ashore.
Mobile phones are watched anxiously
for the first blip of a signal.
At 1300 the Eddystone appears out of
the mist about 2 miles ahead.
By tea-time Plymouth Breakwater
approaches and remains stubbornly
out of sight in the 1 mile visibility.
As we approach two vessels need a
careful watch – the Pont Aven car ferry
sticking to its schedule at 15 knots
through the harbour entrance and a
Westerly Storm surging up on our
starboard side with a crew member
waving a bottle of Champagne.
It’s Barbara with Richard in
Storm Dragon.
Soon Plymouth Sound surrounds us
with its familiar security – but I must
not forget that Tectona draws
10 feet and must be handled like a
big ship and not a yacht.
By 1600 we have picked up the T1 mooring kindly loaned by Tim Charlesworth. Barbara, Richard, Jim and Tom come aboard from Storm Dragon.
Along the other rail another group of unfamiliar faces appears, soon identified as Pete Brown former Bosun on Tectona in 1978. Déjà vu hardly does justice to his expression as he steps on board after a gap of nearly 30 years. He is a goldmine of information.
Glasses are raised – here’s to us!
But perhaps even more well deserved, a toast to Tectona who has really come good and repaid the faith that we had in her during those weeks in Port Napoleon.
What a vessel!
