IAN STEPHEN’S BRITTANY WEBLOG
Everyone needs a shower sometime...
11 September 2008
In out of the Irish Sea in near calm, eyes hunting for the black bulges of creel-markers. Racing-marks. And a group of 3 flashes that will indicate an East Cardinal mark which is the sign to swing in to the channel into Howth harbour. This is the north end of Dublin Bay and I’ve been here before, over a year ago, coming in for respite from 30 knot headwinds.
This has been an easier passage – a smaller boat but favourable wind. Michel is still grinning because we read the tide and wind well and made good time. We have to weave through the inner channel markers with the tide low but we’re tied up in time to get up the road for a single Sunday night pint.
Jean and Edith join us before too long but they don’t want a drink. They hugged the Mull of Kintyre in Delphinea and had a bumpier ride to start with. Nobody plans to move on tomorrow.
It blew hard as promised though Monday and Tuesday. We plot and plan, looking for the right relationship of current and wind-changes. We consider a short hop to Arklow, a longer one round the corner to Kilmore, rather than the track into Milford Haven. We want to be west to take advantage of a forecast wind shift.
You can only plan so far. It’s certain we’re going nowhere for 2 days. We eat cassoulet chez Jean and Edith. The burgundy is out and political discussion is permitted. Michel is passionate on the Tibetan cause and the principal that every small thing you can do to keep the issue under discussion is worthwhile. Jean is more sceptical.
But it’s going to blow up again soon. Tragic, we’ll just have to go into the city. Michel plays the part of the hard skipper. We’re going to take advantage of a short lull in the wind to crane the boat out. After lying for some time in Stornoway and Vagur, Faroes, there are signs of enough weed and growth to slow us down. It’s also a chance to check all is well below – the out-drive of the diesel engine, the rudder and the engine cooling water intake. If we’re good boys, and get the job done fast, we might get out to play.
It’’s as efficient as it gets. The hoist is booked. Michel drives her over and the crew pull string and chat to the workers of Howth sailing club. Kevin is wiry as Guy and myself and swings on the hoist like an acrobat. We have to be careful the lifting straps don’t foul the sail-drive (business end of the propulsion). An error here and our transit south could be seriously delayed.
I realise that Bonnie is spelled with the i and e when I gaze at her name as she hangs in mid air. There’s a gasp as Michel sees the amount of mussels, barnacles and weed growth that must be causing friction as she moves through the water. We’ve done well to get her moving so fast on the way down. We’re going to notice a difference.
I connect to the internet, here on board and get some advice from mates who know Dublin. Lawrence Tulloch, a Shetland storyteller and lover of fiddle tunes, names Slattery’s, Capel St. I find it, and it’s off the main tourist route, a band are tuning up.
But I eat borscht along the road. Rather than Irish stew. I’ve earned this deviation because I’ve been an efficient tourist so far. I saw the Jack B Yeats paintings in the 20th century Irish Section of the National Gallery and I’ve been to the fabled world of Trinity College Library. It wasn’t only the Book of Kells. The associated books were equally interesting though the magnificence was toned down a shade. Upstairs, botanical drawings are displayed in cases under racks and racks of leather volumes . The wooden ladders to the higher shelves are worn by the toes of centuries of scholars.
Jitke joins me there. We have a Polish beer and the Czech girl pronounces it not bad. She is one of a gang of scholars and translators and lovers of language and literature I met in the city of Olomouc. She lives with an Irishman. What does she miss? I expect to hear of bread and beer and pork done in a particular way but Jitke misses her friends and family. I think of all the Dublin people settling in different European cities. The Lewis men and women missing the chat of home. Though, yes, Jitke says, Irish wit and banter is pretty similar in tone to Czech. The widespread passion for books.
She takes me further off the track. This used to be her local. The Guiness is as smooth as I’ve tasted, cheaper too and the music in the corner is not strained. It’s not a performance. It’s just part of the pub. I look around, a few pints in and conversations are happening in all directions. Jitke guides me to the station.
It’s not over yet. There’s another yarn on the train home to Howth. A Scots guy and his Dublin mate. The Scot’s a traveller. He homed in to a Mexican girlfriend, lives a few blocks away. But Nepal was good. Mountains. That was a place you could go back to.
I get home to find the boys still up. They didn’t find music in Howth. We have a small one of 15 year old Islay. Possible that we’ll be at sea this time tomorrow.
© Ian Stephen, 2008
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