To Ireland for dinner

“Would you crew for me? 

Dragonfly is in Cork and I want to sail her back to Portland”.

Adrian and I were old friends. We had shared two years at a training establishment after school and had kept up over the years as our lives bounced around the world. Adrian came from a horsie family but had opted for sailing and cars instead. We played tennis together, we went to Africa together, we were drenched on the Welsh hills together and sun burnt in the Mediterranean. I even managed to get to his wedding!

Dragonfly was a beautiful boat that he had owned for some years. He sold her to an Irishman but missed her so much that when she came up for sale again he had to buy her back. A very good decision.

The trouble was that Dragonfly was now near Cork in Ireland, in the Owenboy River at Crosshaven a hundred and forty-five nautical miles Northwest of Lands End.

Adrian had invited another friend of his to join us. Fredrick was a newly retired pilot who was now training people to fly helicopters. He too was an experienced and keen yachtsman so I was in safe company. We flew from Gatwick to Cork on a beautiful July day. It was cloudless and the British Isles were laid out before us as we flew across the South of England then on to Wales and the Irish Sea. This was going to be a grand adventure.

We were met at Cork airport by the Irishman who was to drive us headlong at breathtaking speed along the narrow road to where he kept his tender. Being my first visit to Ireland south of the boarder, I had been looking forward to seeing a bit of ‘The Emerald Isle’ but I am a very nervous passenger in cars driven unnecessarily fast, so I only saw a blurr of hedgerows and the odd glimpse of other cars narrowly avoiding us. 

Our Irishman was to take two of us out to Dragonfly on a mooring in a three person dinghy and then return for the third person. After that we would all set off down stream to the Marina in Crosshaven where he would then return upstream with one of us in the dinghy so he could collect his car. There are no prizes dear reader if you were to correctly guess who got the short straw. Actually it was quite fun. I enjoy trips in Inflatable tenders if they are sound and with adequate fuel. 

The inflatable was only three quarters inflated so the trips were doable if it stayed that way. He assured us that there was lots of petrol in the outboard so there would be no trouble completing the distances. 

So there I was, in a small tender, loosing air rapidly with little fuel in a foreign country returning the mile up stream with the Irishman. I started to become nervous again. He had forgotten the oars and I had to get back down to the marina. Soon it would be dark. At least it was down stream! 

Amazingly I navigated back to Dragonfly in a now limp inflatable. To my surprise  the petrol did last the course, though with not much to spare. I was allocated the quarter berth in Dragonfly which although close to the engine was very comfortable with plenty of room for my kit. She was wonderfully appointed and comfortable, I was in for a luxurious trip.

We had arrived; dinner was now the top priority.

Dinner

I had spent the whole of six school holidays in France in the early 1960s where my family lived for two years at a very impressionable age. I had learnt to appreciate food, really appreciate food. Crosshaven has a Victorian pub the only eating establishment as far as we could see. It was very busy that first night and the menu was short but what arrived in front of us was a surprise. The subsequent meals over the next three days in this establishment were quite the best food I had tasted outside home for decades. We had not noticed the sign outside stating that they had won a number of awards in previous years for the best pub food in Ireland.

Before paying the Irishman, Adrian did a meticulous inspection of Dragonfly. Everything was checked including the main engine. This proved to have a problem despite being spotlessly clean and shiny. A hair pin hole in the main casing was sending a minute spray of coolant into the bilges. This was surveyed by a local engineer who pronounced that it was safe to use but needed attention on returning to England.

We stocked up on essential provisions for the trip to Portland and set sail early on the fourth day. The weather was ideal, settled with a gentle SW wind. The sea was almost flat as you can see from the photo below as we gradually lost sight of Ireland.