Escape to Clare Island

Cloud bank while we were departing.

Alex has finally created scheduling around his mum's care so that we can take two consecutive days off. We looked at the weather forecast and the tides, and they conspired to enable our escape to Clare Island. Just one night. Out in the afternoon on the outgoing high tide. Back in the afternoon on the incoming high tide. We were to have mixed cloud and sun and benign conditions for a whole week. 

Wednesday morning I packed and provisioned. Wednesday afternoon, we took off. We had a consistent 15 knots of breeze from the WSW, enabling tacking out to the Clare. We raised the main and mizzen, then Alex unfurled the yankee and sure enough, the sheets were run incorrectly. One of those things you forget from year to year. This time it had been two years since we hanked on and hoisted sails. Same thing with the staysail. So he furled the sail and re-ran all four sheets.

Then he unfurled the yankee and it was fine. Then he raised the hanked on staysail. When I tried to secure the sheet, I couldn't get it into the winch track. The metal lead was in the wrong position. He had serviced all the winches during the pandemic and forgot how they had been aligned. Of course, I didn't remember either. Most other things worked, so it was a good shakedown cruise. Except it was cold, frigid cold. I had on a T-shirt, jeans, a sweatshirt and foul weather jacket, a hat and gloves and I started shivering uncontrollably. Alex took the helm and I recovered somewhat out of the chill wind. 

Several hours later (it's about 15 miles), we were about to drop anchor in Clare when we noticed that all the visitor moorings except one were unoccupied. That meant we'd have plenty of room on the outside to swing freely. As the wind was to clock variable and end up in the East at <5 knots overnight, we didn't have a problem reaching the conclusion that this was an easy decision. 

The other boat funnily enough was a Bowman or Rival of about 35 feet in length. Most likely British but not displaying any flags. It is rude to not display a flag, especially when visiting a foreign country. There were 5 onboard, parents with three teen children. The small dinghy had to make three trips to get everyone ashore and three trips back. 

We debated going ashore, but both decided we just wanted to hang out at anchor. So I cooked dinner - pulled pork with baby potatoes and fresh beans from our garden. We both needed to chill. Alex had been managing his mother's affairs for months after a stroke, and I had lost my brother to cancer this past week. We also had friends who lost a child the week before. So much sadness and loss. So much stress and anxiety, all melted away with the changing views as we swung at anchor with the variable wind and the wonderful light emerging between clouds. 

Sleep came readily, not even a chance to read. The rocking of the boat made us both really tired. The sleep of infants overcame us both. 

Breakfast of corned beef hash and eggs had us contemplating going ashore again. Again we decided we'd like to just stay aboard. I pulled out my new boating adventures diary and documented the last two years since we returned from three summers in Spain. Then I delved into Sinead O'Connor's autobiography. I love how she writes and the telling of the story is very well done. 

Soon enough, after the comings and goings of many ferries laden with visitors, it was time for lunch, a tasty mix of Mediterranean style deli meats, Alex's bread, and fresh tomatoes, accompanied by a shared beer which we rarely ever drink at lunch. The gentle breeze from the morning dissipated completely by the end of lunch. We slipped the mooring and made a beeline for home.

En route, all around us again were showers while we had sunshine overhead. It was, in stark contrast to yesterday, hot. The water surface was glassy. 

Look, dolphins jumping high in the air. Two of them -- common dolphins with big white patches on the side. Didn't manage a picture. 

Look, mackeral rising right next to the boat. Wow, a pod of bottlenose dolphins gliding languidly through the water chasing after the mackeral. 

We passed Inishoo still with the incoming tide giving us a push just two hours after leaving Clare. We picked up our mooring and cleaned up before the rain arrived. 

It was a successful first overnight cruise in two years. And, oh, it felt so very good.