Aleria's Adventures

Lessons in Optis start on dry land.  What's wrong with how sailing is taught?  For some reason, the teaching of sailing skills in many countries where sailing is an active pursuit has over the years changed from learning the ropes on a local body of water from an experienced friend to a rigorously structured multi-year racing-based certification process. How did it evolve this way, and who says racing is the only way to acquire the necessary fundamentals?  I say bring back the fun and watch the numbers grow.

Sailing around the cliffs of Achill Remote and Wild  by Daria Blackwell s/v  Aleria Co-author of  Happy Hooking The Art of Anchoring . We emerged from the shelter of the inner islands only to find a furious chop in the bay. It was supposed to be fairly benign conditions today, but the wind was howling in from the West whipping up the seas against the outgoing tide.  There was a huge swell coming in from the Atlantic, which we had expected behind the retreating gale from the day before, but we had not expected this maelstrom given the  Met Eireann  forecast early this morning. But that's the west coast of Ireland. Unpredictable. Majestic. And many days formidable.

To Clare Island and into the Wild Atlantic Waters The race action around Clare Island on the Sunday of the June bank holiday weekend had all the intrigue of a world class sailing race. Wind out of the SE holding steady at 20 knots at the start but gusting over 40 knots on the North side of the island. Fog, mist, rain.  An MOB (man overboard) successfully recovered in textbook style within about 3 minutes attesting to the fine seamanship of the skipper and crew. Gear failure. Seasickness. The makings of many stories.  Two boats retired.  Six over the finish line with the faces of experience on board. Awards won by sailors sporting broad smiles knowing they had lived up to the challenges.  Characters from every walk of life, both young and old, had set their sails against one another for the prestige of winning the Kay O’Grady Memorial Trophy.

I noticed a note in my inbox in Facebook. Then I noticed the inbox next to it that says "Other". I remembered that this is the box where Facebook stows stuff it thinks you don't want to see. I wish Facebook would just stopping trying to think for me. They always get it wrong. In it were multiple messages from friends and one astonishing one.

Morning brings dense fog yet again Bumper boats and and crystal waters Onyx watching the action  We decided it was so beautiful, we’d stay an extra day in Tinker’s Hole. Besides, overnight a fog settled in so we used that as an excuse – we wanted to be able to actually see Iona! We’d been moving about every day and sometimes twice a day, and we just needed to chill. That’s what cruising is supposed to be. Drop anchor and stay awhile. So we were permitting ourselves an extra day. It was a beautiful sultry morning, people postponed departure until the fog lifted, but all the boats eventually left except one other.  

GPS anomalies and tricky unmarked routes Aleria and Vagrant sailing toward Loch Tarbert. Photo by Vicki aboard Nokomis All night and for days after, we imagined there were creepy little things crawling up our necks, down our legs and burrowing into our skin.  And in fact, Alex did have two ticks that burrowed.  A great remedy is to smeer them with Vaseline and wait about 15 minutes. They suffocate and release their jaws. Then you can pick them out with tweezers and they just let go without leaving any parts behind that can cause infection. Of course ticks can cause all kinds of infections anyway, including Lyme Disease.  Fortunately, Alex and I were both vaccinated when the Lyme disease vaccine was available for a short time in the States. So good to be sailing again! Paps of Jura in the distance We had a lovely breakfast, the rain stopped, and we followed the fleet out of Pig Bay.  There was a nice breeze building. We hoisted sails alongside Vagrant and Nokom

Fog in Donegal and PRMMMC*  *(personal remote maritime mobile mechanical consultation) Glen Head just as fog rolled in and the engine alarm went off. Today was to be the day of diminishing winds. We got up early and motored out of Killala, set our sails and sailed across Donegal Bay keeping a watch out for fishing vessels out of Killybegs. We now have an aversion for fishing trawlers, as could be expected. Unfortunately, none of those we saw had AIS.  Just as we rounded the northwesternmost tip of Ireland where weather always seems to make headlines, the wind died. Big swell was still crashing on the rocky headland.  So we fired up the engine and started motor sailing toward Arranmore about 6 miles away.  Within minutes, the overheating alarm came on the engine.  We had seen that a couple of days ago, so Alex had then topped up the antifreeze and it had stopped.  Now, it was on again and alarming.  We had to shut down the engine. With the wind dying, our only choices were

A glorious sail around Erris Head and under Downpatrick Head to Killala in North Mayo, Ireland Downpatrick Head The Stags  The seas were much less ferocious as we left Black Sod Bay than they had been the day before, which was encouraging, and Onyx was feeling much better. It's funny when you're sailing how one day can be stressful and terrifying and the next day you can't remember what the fuss was all about. It's just beautiful and awe inspiring.  As we passed the Black Sod Coast Guard station, we hailed them to do a radio check.  They heard us loud and clear and confirmed seeing us on AIS. How encouraging!  Two more of Alex’s projects were a success – the VHF antenna and the AIS which shows you which ships are in your vicinity, as well as their heading, speed, and distance.  What an amazing device. The stack

Happy Independence Day America!  Huge swell combined with cross waves to create a confused sea. Pounding around Achill and into Black Sod Bay, County Mayo, Ireland Well at least it wasn't a red sky at morning. The concert before we left had ended with a fireworks display reminiscent of American Independence Day.  We’d had our fix of oooohs and aahhs and ohwwwsss! All we could do now was celebrate our independence by setting off and hoping for the best. In the morning, despite a threatening looking sunrise, heavy swell and confused seas, we left Clew Bay and sailed around Achill Island to Black Sod Bay.  It was like being in a washing machine, tumbling every which way off the crests of waves that squared off against a huge 20 foot ocean swell.  Despite 25 knots of wind out of the WNW, we were so closely hauled that we had to power with the engine on full to make way through the pounding surf around the imposing headland.  The cliffs off Achill are the highest in