Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows.

I've recently been reading through the printed copies I have of the blogs I wrote to cover our 2015, 2016 and 2017 sailing adventures.

Having done so, it dawned on me that I'd never had our 2019 blog printed (Yes. Still sharp as a knife me!). 

Thinking it was about time I did, I started work on getting it into a suitable format. It was only then that I realised I'd never actually finished writing the blog (See information in parenthesis above...).

Oops!!

So, in the highly unlikely event that you've been waiting with bated breath for my next missive since Friday 24 May 2019, please accept my apologies. You must be a rather unhealthy shade of purple by now...

Well I'm happy to report that we made it safely back to the Solent, stopping in the Beaulieu River for the night of 27 May and reaching Chichester Marina the following day. 

Cyclone was based there until, on 3 August, we took her to Thornham Marina for a lift out and a bit of maintenance (You know; decks cleaned and painted, antifoul applied, engine serviced, new anodes etc.). 

Looks smart, doesn't she?

Oh yes!

Nice clean prop too. 

Then, on 22 September 2019, after another short stay in Chichester Marina, Cyclone sailed the short distance to Gosport Marina. This was to be her new home for the winter while we decided what to do the following year.

And there she stayed. 

Without moving.

Slowly cultivating her own eco system below her waterline...

...and growing steadily greener on deck...

...until January 2022.

Yes, you read that right. January 2022!! 

And even then she only left her berth a couple of times for a quick potter, returning the same night. She's only done about 30 miles since.

"Why?" I hear you ask.

And that's where we come to the title of this post. 

Before I go any further, I'd like to include a quotation from Seneca's “On the Shortness of Life”, written circa 49 AD (that is Lucius Annaeus Seneca the Younger of course. Nah, I'd never heard of him either! Isn't Google a wonderful thing?):

“Yet the greatest waste of life lies in postponement: it robs us of each day in turn, and snatches away the present by promising the future. The greatest impediment to living is expectancy, which relies on tomorrow and wastes today. You map out what is in fortune’s hand but let slip what’s in your own hand. What are you aiming at? What’s your goal? All that’s to come lies in uncertainty: live right now.”

So what, you may reasonably ask, am I going on about now? And this, sadly, is where it gets serious.

We didn't know it at first, but all the time I've been covering our sailing adventures in this blog, my lovely wife Jo has been living with dementia. A particularly nasty and rare form of dementia, as it turned out, known as Posterior Cortical Atrophy (PCA). 

PCA typically affects younger people, more often women, and progresses quickly. It affects vision, spatial awareness, balance and speech, as well as the usual things associated with Alzheimer's disease, such as short term memory.

There were a few things Jo had said or done that concerned me as far back as 2014. I remember discussing them with a colleague during our lunchtime walks (the days before enlightenment, when I used to work for a living!). But there was nothing of great significance and I dismissed them as probably just side effects of the menopause.

As time went on, however, these little things started to add up. Jo had difficulty compiling a shopping list and struggled with her handwriting. She forgot which rope on the boat was which and had difficulty carrying out simple tasks like steering with the tiller. 

Then on 20 July 2017 in Klintholm, Denmark, Jo went to the marina shower block and failed to return. I found her more than 2 hours later. Instead of walking back to Cyclone after her shower she'd walked inland, away from the sea, and got lost. I don't know how, but somehow she'd found her way back to the marina and I was able to lead her back to the boat.

Two further significant events convinced me that we could no longer bury our heads in the sand. We needed to find out what was going on and decided that any plans to sail in 2018 would have to be put on hold until we'd got to the bottom of what was wrong.

To cut a long story short, in October 2018, just 3 weeks after her 53rd birthday, Jo received her formal diagnosis. In the consultant's opinion, from a combination of her test results, MRI and PET scans, she had been living with dementia for about 4 years - an estimate consistent with the timing of my early  concerns.

Sailing in 2019 was possible as Jo was still completely mobile and we could work around the things she found difficult, such as finding her way back to Cyclone after a shower and, indeed, recognising her on her return. As if she didn't have enough to contend with, she had to get used to my cooking too as, sadly, following a recipe had been beyond her abilities since June 2018.

2020 saw the Covid pandemic which confined us to base like everybody else. A sad waste of the little time Jo had left in which to live a "normal" life. 

April 2021 was the first time I noticed Jo having any issues with balance and mobility. She started to lean to one side as we came towards the end of a 7 mile walk and needed help to make it the last half mile or so.

And now?

On 11 August 2022, aged 56, Jo moved into a nursing home. She has no meaningful vision, rarely speaks, can't feed, wash or dress herself and is unable to stand (let alone walk). She suffers from hallucinations which cause anxiety, agitation and distress. Fortunately antipsychotic medication helps reduce these episodes to a minimum.

I visit her every day (except Thursdays, when a good friend of hers visits) and I think she still knows who I am. I hug her, kiss her, read to her, reassure her and feed her Maltesers. I also tell her I love her at least once a day. Being a typical bloke, I probably only told her that once a year until recently - unless, of course, I'd done something really bad! 

But hang on a minute. This is supposed to be a sailing blog isn't it? What's with all this sentimental, sob story carp?

Look again at the title of this post and the quotation from Seneca. Like most people, Jo and I had plenty of reasons to put off leaving work and following our dreams. Working longer would have earned us larger pensions, potentially making our retirements more comfortable. If we'd saved for longer we'd have had more money to spend on things like marinas and eating out. Maybe we should have waited until our parents were no longer around?

If we'd done those things, we'd never have enjoyed our sailing adventures together.

So, if you've read this far and are dithering about whether to go on your own sailing adventure (or any other type of adventure for that matter) this year, next year, or maybe in 5 years time, hopefully I've helped you decide what to do. 

If you are in a position to do it now, go for it!!

I'm so glad we did. 

It's not the end for Cyclone and me. I still have her and one day I hope to do some serious sailing once more. 

One thing's for sure though. It'll never be the same again.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

'ow much?!!!

£45.64? Really?

I only want to stay the one night yer know!

Yes, that's Poole Quay Boat Haven for you. It probably explains why the residents are predominantly big motor boats.

But I'm getting ahead of myself (as usual).

Our last post finished with us tied up on a mid river pontoon (or, more specifically, Cyclone tied up on a mid river pontoon) on the River Dart. We stayed there for 4 nights before moving up to Dittisham, during which time we did an enormous quantity of washing at the Dartmouth Launderette - 3 machines and over 20 quid's worth; stocked up on groceries; read a bit and did some sightseeing.

The lower car ferries. Weird things these, with a tug pushing the separate platform along

The lower ferry again. on its way to Kingswear with the entrance to the river in the background

Warfleet Creek - near the entrance to the River Dart

Britannia Royal Naval College

St. Petrox Church...

... with its gun tower out the back!

Kingswear Castle (on the opposite bank). They strung a chain between that and Dartmouth Castle to keep the baddies out

Dartmouth Castle and St Petrox Church

The oldest pub in Dartmouth - from medieval times I believe

Like lots of Devon and Cornwall, not a place for the elderly or disabled!

Small harbour the other side of the road from the river. Unusual!

Shopping Mall

So, after 4 nights near Dartmouth, we made the voyage to Dittisham. We've made longer voyages. This one was about 1.5 miles!

Opposite Dittisham stands Greenway, the summer residence of Agatha Christie. We passed her "boathouse" - how you'd get a boat in there I've no idea - on the way up the river. It was the scene of a Poirot murder!

Greenway's "boathouse"

There's not a lot at Dittisham but, like most places around these parts, it's very pretty.

Dittisham waterfront

From our mooring in the river (£17.84 by the way, Poole Quay Boat Haven!) we had the above view of Dittisham and the view below of Greenway Quay. A ferry takes National Trust visitors between the two - quite a lucrative business I imagine at £2 per person each way for a one minute boat ride! It also picked us up from our boat and took us to Greenway. My suggestion that we should only pay half as we were half way across the river already was politely ignored!

Greenway Quay

Looking downriver from our mooring

If you look really carefully you may be able to make out a seal on the small rock next to the Anchor Stone (the big one!)

Greenway. Agatha Christie's summer and Christmas pad

An exotic flower in the greenhouse...

... and some weird ones outside!

The Pet Cemetary

Cyclone on her mooring with Dittisham in the background

Oh how true!

A Dittisham street. It was very steep!

On Thursday 23rd May, after a couple of nights at Dittisham, we set off to cross Lyme Bay. We had a fast crossing, the highlight of which was very definitely these guys (below).

I saw them approach from our port side and they just turned to run with us and put on a display! It's fantastic when this happens and they had us whooping with delight (a rare sight!) as they leapt from the water.

Dolphins swimming with our bow wave

This fella kept launching himself into the air and landing on his side. I'm sure he was trying to splash me!

What a showman he was!

We arrived at Swanage a little after sunset and lay to our anchor for the night. Very peaceful (and free) but we needed to get supplies and fuel so moved on to Poole harbour the following day. Jo was getting a bit whiffy too, having been sans douche for 3 nights!

Views from our anchorage. Swanage Pier

Swanage front

Swanage front again

Between Swanage and Poole are Old Harry and his wife - pictured below (Old Harry is the larger column). I think I read somewhere that these used to connect with the Needles on the Isle of Wight. Before my time...

Old Harry, his wife, a few miscellaneous arches and a hole (look carefully) 

Sandbanks car ferry crossing the entrance to Poole Harbour

Sandbanks car ferry

Big house on Brownsea Island. Baden Powell. Dib dib dob and all that!

Our next trip will return us to the Solent. Then we'll have some decisions to make.

Put Cyclone ashore?

Or carry on eastwards and maybe head up the Thames?

Who knows.

Maybe a London Marina will be even dearer than Poole Quay Boat Haven!!

Grrr!!

What on earth's been going on?

It's over 3 weeks since the last update!

There's a reason for that. Well, a couple actually.

It all started with a phone call from Jo's father, Keith.

From hospital...

A few months ago Beryl, Jo's mum, had fallen in the night breaking her femur in 2 places. Well Keith clearly wasn't prepared to be outdone and so, on 23rd April, he fell in the night breaking his femur in 2 places!

Naturally this put him in hospital where, from his hospital bed, he assured us everything was OK. Unfortunately, after a few days in hospital, Keith caught an infection and it reached the point where Laura, Jo's sister, suggested that we really should return home.

By this time we were in Newlyn so, before going any further, let's backtrack to Falmouth where we left off.

Our plan was to set sail after meeting up with Belinda and Martyn (see the last bit of the last blog) from Falmouth to the Helford River - just around the corner. However, Storm something or other was just around the corner and so we decided to wait until that had passed through before slipping our lines. That meant we had a few days to kill, so we went for a bit more sightseeing - starting by getting the ferry to Flushing (snigger). From there we walked around the coast to Mylor, cutting back via an inland route.

A Flushing street (downpipe?)

Well it's different! Look at all those gnomes mum! 

Flushing waterfront

A view over the River Fal from our walk. I wonder what they use to anchor the ship mooring buoys?!!

Mylor has a church.

St Mylor Church

Within the grounds of this church we came across a memorial to HMS Ganges. We were intrigued by this because the early part of my dad's Naval career was spent at a Naval base in Shotley called HMS Ganges.

It turned out that this memorial was to 53 boys who'd lost their lives between 1866 and 1899 whilst training on HMS Ganges for a career in the Royal Navy. The ship was moored a short distance from Falmouth's small Naval dockyard and had the distinction of being the last sailing battleship to round Cape Horn without the aid of steam.

The boys mostly dies of scarletina, influenza and measles, but a few were killed in accidents on board or by drowning. 14,000 boys were trained on board HMS Ganges during those 33 years, so I suppose losing 53 wasn't so careless...

The ship was removed from Mylor to Harwich on 27th August 1899. There it continued to train boys until 1905 when a shore training establishment bearing its name was opened.

Ganges was renowned for its strict discipline and the excellence of its instruction. Apparently much was expected of a 'Ganges' boy when he took his place as part of a ship's company. About 120,000 were trained in the shore base with most becoming senior rates. A few, including my dear old dad, reached commissioned ranks.

Didn't he do well!

The HMS Ganges Memorial

After listening to 50mph winds whistle around the marina for a night or 2, we finally set sail from Falmouth on Sunday 28th April. We'd decided to skip the Helford River as we wanted to make a bit of progress so headed directly for Newlyn. This meant rounding the Lizard - the most southerly point of England (yes, I thought Lands End stuck out further too but, look at the map, it doesn't!).

The Lizard is another headland that needs to be treated with respect because of the potential for rough seas. It wasn't angry when we passed - perhaps just a little miffed - but we were nevertheless pleased to leave it behind for the better natured seas of Mount's Bay.

The Lizard

Looking back towards the Lizard

We knew we wouldn't get to Newlyn much before 2000 (8pm, not 19 years ago!) so decided to anchor off the beach to save a few quid. It was a little bit rolly, but not too bad most of the time.

A view of Penzance from our anchorage...

... and one of Newlyn

Before heading into Newlyn Harbour, we decided to go and have a butchers at St. Michael's Mount. I've no idea who St. Michael was, but he apparently had a thing for Mounts. France has a Mont St. Michael too. They're both rather special...

St. Michael's Mount

And again. Not a bad pad, is it?

Now Newlyn isn't a marina. Well, I suppose it is a bit, but for fishing boats and not yachts. A few passing yachts are tolerated, but they definitely play second fiddle to the fishing boats. Fair enough I suppose. The fishing fleet actually do something useful after all!

Our neighbours at Newlyn Harbour

Having said that, the charming Harbour staff made us feel very welcome (although a few of the fisherman seemed to go out of their way to ignore us!).

Newlyn is a proper working port and has its own appeal which I hope the pictures below capture.

This river ran through the town before meeting the sea at the harbour

A rather good memorial to lost fishermen

Newlyn town from the harbour

A Newlyn Street

Newlyn Harbour with Cyclone right in the middle of the picture

Must have been going some to end up there!

And so back to the beginning.

It was in Newlyn that we got the call from Jo's sister, Laura.

Laura had been doing a grand job of supporting Jo's mum and visiting her dad in our absence. She gave us daily updates on Keith's condition and we'd asked her to let us know if she had any concerns about his health deteriorating.

So when the call came, we knew we had to return home pronto.

To cut a long story short, we made our case to the Harbourmaster for leaving Cyclone for a week (he readily agreed in the circumstances); hired a car; returned home; visited Keith a number of times (he was thankfully already bouncing back to 'good' health); called in to see my mum (another 140 miles further on); and returned to Newlyn. About 900 miles in a week!

We picked up the hire car from Penzance, so here's a picture of their harbour:

Penzance Harbour

On our return to Cyclone we faced a dilemma.

Should we continue with our circumnavigation or return slowly home?

After a lot of thought we decided on the latter. Hopefully it wouldn't happen, but we dreaded receiving a similar call later on when we were somewhere more remote.

And then the first miracle happened (bear with me here!). We weren't going to make it to Scotland to see Nessie (the Loch Ness monster) and so Nessie came to Newlyn to see us! Yes, really!! Look at the photo!!!

Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. In Newlyn.

And miracle number 2 (those of a nervous disposition should look away now...). Jo's had a gammy finger for ages - maybe a year or more? Every now and then it erupts, spewing pus in all directions (I did say look away now and, OK, I'm exaggerating - but it's not been very nice!).

The miracle? After all this time, a splinter appeared from her finger! Well, more of a plank actually - see picture!

Jo says it's much more comfortable without it!!

Gammy finger and offending plank!

Ok, nervous types can look again now.

On 9th May we started to retrace our steps. Our plan was to visit the places we'd left out on our way west, with our first destination being the Helford River.

Leaving Newlyn Harbour with St. Michael's Mount in the distance

Approaching the Lizard for the second time. Rolling, rolling, rolling..... Raw Hide (I must learn the words!)

We anchored in the entrance to the Helford River for 2 nights. Very attractive and we had it to ourselves.

The view from our anchorage

Looking up river from our anchorage. Those rocks cover as the tide rises

Helford Passage on the north bank of the Helford River

Helford on the south bank

From Helford it was 40 odd miles to the River Yealm which is just east of Plymouth. You'd think it'd be hard to find somewhere more beautiful than Salcombe, but I reckon the River Yealm is.

A little way up the river Newton Creek separates Newton Ferrers on the north bank from Noss Mayo on the south. At low water it's possible to cross between them on a walkway known as a Voss. Look at the pictures and tell me it's not gorgeous! We stayed for 6 nights and did several walks, so I'm afraid there's a lot of them!

View from Cyclone on our mooring. Newton Ferrers with Newton Creek in the foreground

The dinghy park. Finding a space wasn't easy! 

Another view...

... and another...

... and another...

... and another. These properties had gardens opposite that bordered Newton Creek

Looking towards the entrance to the River Yealm from inside

Looking out to sea from the River Yealm. That's the Mew Stone (the big lump). Apparently a local thief was once marooned there to stop him nicking stuff. A forerunner to deportation perhaps?!!

Yet another view of the entrance. Well you try deciding which to leave out!

A woodland view (for a change)

Looking east along the coast

Noss Mayo at high water

Newton Ferrers from Noss Mayo

St Werburgh's Church, Wembury

The National Trust Cafe near the above church

Yet another view of the River Yealm

It was while enjoying our time on the River Yealm that we received the sad news of my Aunt Molly's passing. Molly was an enthusiastic follower of our adventures. Rest in peace Molly. Our condolences go to my cousins Gavin, Roderick and Merryl.


After 6 enjoyable nights we really did feel it was time to move on so, on Friday 17th May, we set sail for Dartmouth. It was a slow old sail as I'd decided to fight the tide rather than go with it so that we'd arrive at a sociable time. It wasn't too bad, but it got a bit wearing seeing speed over the ground of less than 3 knots at times. Yes, you could walk faster!

Start Point

The entrance to Dartmouth Harbour

Is that Cyclone? No, but similar... It had just taken on 8000 litres of fuel (must be worth a few days off school "protesting", eh kids?!) and its next stop was Norway!

And Dartmouth is where I'm writing this. On a mid river pontoon with the laptop powered by the ship's batteries and internet accessed courtesy of my phone and the 4G network. Ah the wonders of technology!

But for balance - one for you cousin Tim? - a steam train photographed from Cyclone!

The Kingswear to Paignton express

A close up of the train. Apparently it'll be a while before this rail is electrified...

The Floating Bridge that "spans" the Dart - just upstream from our mooring

Dartmouth from our mooring

Our plan now is to visit Dittisham (upriver) and maybe Greenacre (Agatha Christie's pad) before heading to the River Exe.

Thanks for reading!