I sit here, in a quaint little pub in L’Aber Wrac’h, France by the sea. This area of France is absolutely beautiful. I could live here, in a little white-washed hut on a stone island perhaps. Tending to the bees or working as a fisherman.

But alas, it will not be so, for I have itchy feet and live on a boat.

The trip from Cherbourg has been mostly good. I sailed through the infamous Race of Alderney. I was hesitant as always about areas people warn me about. I was however somewhat disappointed when I didn’t sink or get washed up on rocks (not really), as the Race was a piece of cake, and I sailed through at 7knots. I was an hour early, being silly and forgetting about the summer time addition (or was it subtraction…?).

I continued on to the island of Guernsey.

I stayed a night in the marina, just to refuel and spend some time in the town. The marina was expensive… 14pounds for my little boat - Luckily I still had some change left over from my stop in Dover. I moved at the next tide to Havelet Bay to anchor. I saw a bunch of private buoys, and seeing no one was using them, I used one for the night, bouncing about all night like mad. I always get nervous using the anchor, my dreams permeated with waking up beached like a whale, local conservation groups standing around and patting me down with wet towels, ushering me back to the sea.

I moved on the morning, deciding to sail to Lezardrieux instead of direct to L’Aber Wrac’h which was the initial plan. There was no wind, and I just didn’t feel like motoring for however many hours it was going to be. I made the decision to change course probably a little late in the tide, so I ended up entering Lezardrieux in the dark. So this is where the bad part of the last week started - My GPS has been playing up - It just turns itself off all the time. I kept smacking it back to life, but it’s the only one I have, and I was pretty nervous about it not coming back online when I needed it. So as the fog decended, what vital piece of equipment decided to fail? The GPS. I’d already taken it apart to look for loose connections, but all I could see was a complicated circuit board. It was stupid only having one GPS onboard, but it was really the last thing I thought would stop working, and I don’t have the money to have spares.

The entrance into Lezardrieux is not really difficult in the day, because you can see all the rocks, and it’s well marked. Remember, this part of France is Brittany - You know, the area where all the lighthouse photos come from - The lighthouses with the giant 1000ft waves crashing over the top, and a quote underneath saying ‘Follow your own lighthouse’ or something equally stupid. Or sometimes you seen these lighthouse posters in the offices of accountants. Anyway, you get the point - It’s dangerous to navigate in, there are many obstacles (rocks) and boats don’t like hard surfaces.

So the GPS turns off, and I hit it to bring it back. Nothing. Then I hit it again, and screamed at it. Nothing. Then I curse it, remove the batteries, replace them with new ones, put it back together, and it still doesn’t work. So I smack it again, hove-to at the entrance (stall the boat) and dismantle it again. Put it back together. Still not working. The fog is still there, and the sun hasn’t come up (9hours to go). Furious, I regretfully (only regretfully because it’s polluting) I hurl the thing into the sea… That GPS was a 21st birthday present from a good friend, and now it is at the bottom of the entrance of Lezardrieux, and I’m still stuck. So I navigate under compass bearings from my last known position. Somehow, I manage to get up the entrance into the river and find a private mooring buoy for the night. I was really angry, but the area was so still and quiet. As soon as I turned the engine off, my worries dissipated, and I wondered what the area was like I had just found myself in. The incessant movement of the ocean can be really grating, and all of a sudden, everything was utterly still.

Waking in the morning, I was still surrounded by fog. I waited for a few hours, and slowly the wind and sun sent it away to another port. I wasn’t disappointed by where I’d landed. Lezardrieux is really nice.

It was a Sunday, and the port capitaine was away, so I moored up for the day and met some incredibly nice French sailors, who gave me their boat food supplies as presents, fed me pizza, wine and Apple liqueur. I was a little wary of the French after being in Calais and Cherbourg, but things have changed dramatically since getting to Brittany. I now only have praise.

I spent the afternoon walking around and eating Oysters. I recommend future sailors to take a bottle of champagne, a knife and a lemon down to the waters edge. I didn’t have the champagne or a lemon, but I was quite content.

When dusk came, I decided to move while there was still light and find another buoy for the night. The tide was ripping, but I really wanted light. I pushed off and put a new scratch in my paintwork along the side of Constellation. Poor boat, having to put up with me. After another quiet night, I woke up to catch the tide, and motored out.

Or, as was my plan. That’s when I found a dead battery. How was it possible, I thought? I have two batteries, so it wasn’t too much of a problem, but it begs some questions. Why was it not charged? Maybe my $5,000 solar array wasn’t functioning (I don’t have one.)? Oh, I know, the alternator is broken! How wonderful! I started up and sailed to Trebeurden without a working alternator or a GPS. I replaced the GPS at some ridiculous local price, and left the alternator for another day.

I moved onto L’Aber Wrac’h, and along the way, there was a great choppy swell. It was the worst leg of my journey so far. Even worse than my North Sea adventures. I was absolutely sick, throwing up over the side, not able to eat the entire day. I don’t quite know why I was so sick (and don’t say it was the Oysters) but I was, and my sea sickness medication was useless. I just sat in the cockpit and let the windvane steer, trying to think happy thoughts. The forecast did not indicate such swell, but there were breaking waves and deep caverns for Constellation to contend with. Weird.

The GPS and alternator were at such great expense, I don’t know how to continue this season, or whether I should right now. The Bay of Biscay scares me, it’s the wrong time of year, and what’s on the other side? Let’s be realistic, there is not going to be a heroic Atlantic crossing this season. It’s just not going to happen, I’ve missed it. I left Holland under the pretense that maybe something would crop up along the way (like, I might win the lottery, even though I don’t buy tickets) or a particular sponsor might see I was ‘for real’ and cough up. Ha!

So I’m just going to hang out here for a few days and think about my options. If I do cross, what are my realistic work opportunities? If any? Maybe I should sail back to Guernsey and get a suit and tie job for the winter? Get cashed up and give Constellation gilded bow? Or maybe I should buy a lottery ticket and continue on anyway? It seems pretty disappointing to ‘winter’ already. But this so called ‘reality’ is catching up with me, fast.

Back to my hut, to tend to the bees,

nick.

I may be leaving a few days late, but I have my French courtesy flag all ready, and we’ll be touching the coast of France sometime on Friday. So far the plan is to sail across, drink a bottle of their cheapest wine, spend the night and sail right back to England. I then have two more weeks of work, and the trip to Hamburg begins. What happens once in Hamburg is still up for debate, however I have my fingers crossed that lady luck will appear, and I can start moving south, singlehanded as planned.

Thanks to you-know-who for the artwork

nick.

P.S Happy Independence Day to the American readers!

I purchased Constellation on August 6th, 2006 - It’s be a long road to get here, but I’ve finally taken her out for the first time. Yesterday was the first full day off I’ve had in sometime, and while the weather wasn’t ideal, it was time to go sailing. I left at around 5pm, with just enough water underneath to get out of my berth. It took 35minutes to motor up the Hamble before I reached the Solent, where I raised the sails and tacked around for the very first time.

It was difficult at first having to handle everything on my own, but after about an hour I was used to how things responded, and we got along quite well. The lack of self-tailing winches is somewhat difficult, an issue I’ll have to deal with, considering new ones go for 200-300pounds a piece. I’ve noticed the sheets keep getting caught in the liferaft, meaning I will need to create some kind of webbing over the raft which still allows you to launch without too much difficulty. It was also interesting working in a harness with jackstays, but it feels much more secure being strapped in, and knowing the boat won’t sail off without you.

Thanks again to everybody who has helped me get this far - I’m now readying charts and borrowing pilot books off of people around the yard, for the trip to France next week. Time is absolutely flying at the moment, and I still have so much to do. I have no idea how I will fund the Windvane at 1400euros, but I’ll just keep plodding along and see where things go. If anyone out there has contacts who might be selling secondhand Windvane equipment, now is the time to pop out of the woodwork, as it could be a real showstopper. At this stage, I need two things desperately, which I have no money to pay for: An EPIRB (300pounds), and a Windvane (1000pounds), both of which I need by August at the latest…

nick.

Very special thanks to Stewart for helping cover launch costs; a true gentlemen! Thanks also to Mezzo Man and David, who also donated funds and both hail from the United States. Without their generous help, I couldn’t have launched yesterday, and I wouldn’t be writing today with the news that not only did Constellation launch after all these months, but she floats.

Thanks to Rob, Karin and Al from the boatyard who assisted enormously, whether by helping paint my topsides, to offering advice and tools, and even refuelling my gas canisters for free.

Thank you also to Jack from DNR-Production who flew over from Germany to film and assist. Jack is the first friend I’ve had come and see whether my boat actually exists after all these months, and it was really nice to see a familar face.

Thank you to Jeremy Rogers yachts for sending over a rudder pintle at the last minute, and letting me pay for it next week because none of my credit cards work. Finally, thank you to John and Kelly at Pantaenius for helping me get Constellation insured - The only people who would go beyond the pale in helping me obtain worldwide 3rd party insurance.

The evening before the launch I was still working on the boat, creeping around the hull with a Tesco’s desk lamp, finishing off the paint, and ensuring the skin fittings and new transom pintle were secure and water tight. I woke up early, and finally had a chance to see if all my rudder construction was succesful, and I must say, I was fairly proud of myself when it all came together. Thanks Dad for being a wood worker, even though I’m not, because I must have picked something up along the way. The paint was still wet on the cheeks when Constellation launched, and needs another coat, which I’ll need to paint on from a tender in the water. If you look carefully at the photos, you can see the waterline on the rudder still has pink panther pink on it.

Its been an enormous journey finally getting in the water, and now things are really set to start moving along. For almost 12months now, this entire project has been just a concept and a website, however now things have been pushed forward to a new level. The only thing that stops me from going for a sail right this second, is a new starter battery. And I must admit, that feeling is quite intense, because now that I carry my house on my shoulders, I have a new feeling of freedom quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I admittedly have some obstacles in my way, such as money issues, and the fact it would probably not be particuarly safe is I started off tomorrow, but it is the potential that is worth mentioning, and for that feeling to arise, a lot has been sacrificed to get here.

Thank you again to everybody; now the hard work really begins.

Two hours before launch, the rudder still wasn’t on.

“Jaaack… Tell me nothing will go wrong!”

Constellation being backed onto the crane sling platform.

I had to finish off some of the antifouling on the hull while in the sling, and as I was underneath, she slipped (note the rope between to the two slings) and I came very close to moving at the speed of light in utter fear of being crushed. Special thanks to the rope that stops the slings from dropping 3.5tons of boat.

‘Round she goes

Eeek!

The photo set now jumps straight to being moored, because as soon as she was in the water, I was onboard checking the seacocks furiously to see whether water was pooring in. Not a drop, the boat is completely watertight from the bottom (I still have window and cockpit leaks, but they’re above the waterline).

I had a small pontoon party.

Which ended at the Jolly Sailor.

nick.