So, the sun went up again and the morning dew was to be drying away fast due to the intense warmth again: It was an unusual warm September this year. Not that we wouldn´t welcome the heat, especially as our two sailing girls used to show their latest Bikinis up on deck. But, if you ask me, I´d rather have worn my foul weather gear in the midst of heavy downpour with strong winds. In short: Weather worth a Pogo 40 racing yacht: The very boat we are currently sailing around the Danish Island of Fyn.
As you may have read in the previous article, Part 1 of our cruise (read it here) we left Germany in Kiel/Laboe and went north to round the island clockwise. Sonderborg, Aerosköbing and finally Middelfart have been our port of calls so far. Today I am waking up by the somewhat annoying clutter of Lena´s smartphone melody, calling somebody up to prepare fresh coffee, somebody else to get up and haul out for fresh bakery. It´s Rieke who is first dressed and hops off the Pogo 40 to get the desired rolls, I am the one who pours boiling water to the filter to produce the coffee.
So far the trip – booked with sailingisland.de – has made fun, although the weather is too good for my taste: It´s so hot that our girls don´t wear anything except their very attractive Bikini-suits, somewhat distracting the helmsman and causing our GPS-track to swirl around a bit. I´d have loved the weather turn foul. No to gale force of course, but foul enough to give us strong winds, some swell and sailing action. Something our Pogo 40 is made for. Instead, we are mostly sailing very modest, only twice – but then with full throttle – have we been able so far to ride this awesome Class 40 yacht as she should be: Fast!
A Day of Misery: Becalmed to Bogense
We are sitting together in the saloon, having our breakfast. Which is always fun to see: I think, by looking at someone´s breakfast-habits one may a little bit determine the character of the very person. Here we have Pauli, our Skipper. He first of all needs two mugs of coffee to really wake up. Then it is usually a huge portion of scrambled eggs and bacon. He eats without talking. That’s why he finishes first, gets himself another mug of coffee by leaning back – and starts talking now. Jens is totally different: He will take on a huge portion scrambled eggs by himself either, but with a constant chattering. Taking in heavily laden spoons of eatery, he has a peeled raw onion in his hand, biting off chunks. “That´s for the vitamins”, he says.
Lena, Rieke and Jan are talking only occasionally because, maybe, that´s too much of a talking going on right after getting up for them. I am a kind of a mixture between Pauli and Jens. No, I am not eating raw onions, but I love chatting, love bacon and liters of coffee. This is how we spend our mornings. “Tomorrow it´s going to be eight-nine-ten”, Pauli had announced yesterday, meaning that we´d get up at 8 o´clock, have breakfast at 9 o´clock and are to be casting off at ten. Which we did.
Leaving Middelfart doesn´t necessarily mean that we´ve left Middelfart. The Marina is situated at the southern side of the town which means that we´d have to steam up the small channel that the Little Belt is forming here between Jylland and Fyn some miles up, crossing two bridges to round the Middelfart Bay for reaching some open water again. “Weather forecast is not very good”, Pauli said while having breakfast: “Danish forecast is contradictory to the German, and both of them are contradictory to what we witness here. I don´t think that we are going to get a nice blow today.” Oh my.
The engine is running and that´s always a depressing and enervating sound. This is a boat made to sail by the power of nature, by the pure force of the wind. But there is none. Not even the smallest puff of air. The constant humming of our Diesel goes on everybody´s nerves. The girls are strolling around on the fore deck in their Bikini-suits to seek for the best possible position for sunbathing, Jan and Jens are reading and Pauli does not talk too much. I am at the helm: At least something to do. Passing Little Belt bridge is a nice moment, but this sensation doesn’t last long enough: After two minutes we´re back in the slow moods of going at 6 knots without any sails up. “Let´s see what is behind that corner!”, says Pauli pointing to the opening of the shoreline where the Middelfart Bay gets wider and wider and resembles open seas.
Is that moving air? Can we call that “wind”? Pauli gets up and looks up in the air. Yeah, really, that´s some wind at last! “Hoist main sail and furl that damn Genoa!”, he announces and with pure joy I pull at the halyard to raise the canvas. As our 116 square meters of sails are up and the engine is killed after some 3 hours of lulling steaming the silence is a treat. More of a treat are the 5 knots our boat is making under sails. Well, better than nothing. Rieke asks to be pulled up the mast, Skipper agrees. After putting on the bosun´s chair she is hauled up to the first spreader, taking some pictures, but refuses to go any further: I now perfectly what it feels like.
Nothing happens. The wind will die away shortly after we sailed past the cape of Middelfart Bay area and have to take in all the sails. Engine is running all day long and our mood is kind of depressing. Pauli sums it up: “There we are: Having the fastest boat under our butts but no winds whatsoever!” My summary as we are landing in Bogense harbor: That day sucked! A day to forget. We´ve made no more than 30 miles today, most of them with engine power. Late September: Normally fould weather guaranteed …
Steaming into Bogense Harbor we originally planned to tie up our yacht in the old commercial fishing harbor – that´s something any sailor should try before entering the marinas because mooring here brings you nearer to the towns you are a guest of. Being tied up in the middle of a town is a lot more attractive, than having an ordinary berth where one is the same as two hundred others. But the small Bogense fishing harbor was occupied upon our arrival and so we had to go for a berth in the marina.
Nevertheless, Bogense marina welcomed us as a small, very nice place to be. Bogense is situated at the northern shore of Fyn and can act as a starting point to go further north for example. The marina´s amenities and bathroom facilities are quite okay, though they can´t match with the perfect sitation we´ve found at Aerosköbing (read the Marina Review here). We´ve had a nice evening aboard the Pogo: We though, if we can´t sail then we must party! A load of beer and wine went down our throats, hours of singing along sailor´s shanties left the latter. At three in the morning I finally found a good night´s sleep … of wind, wind, wind and high waves. My wish for tomorrow.
Under Sails at Last!
And again Lena´s phone calls to the stations. Well, less dramatic, we moan as we stretch ourselves and awake to a truly breathtaking dawn. Outside the gulls are screeching like nothing and I am instantly blinded by the fantastic light the sun creates. Just wow! Today is a special day, as Pauli has announced a “Fivesixseven” for now: That´s no holiday, folks! Why´s that?
Some of us seem to be sleeping as we cast off with just a fresh mug of coffee in our hands, no breakfast for today? “We have to be underway very early”, Pauli said yesterday, “because forecasts for winds are again shitty. I hope we´ll get at least the morning blow as we got it yesterday, but we have to leave early to harvest more of it. If we don´t, I don´t know how to manage round Fyn with this little wind.”
Despite the lack of sleep today spirits are high, which can be due to the marvelous sun that is still beaming a true fireworks over the seas. And, hail to the chief!, we´ve got wind as soon as we leave Bogense harbor. Not much, but it´s enough to raise all canvas and turn off the damned engine. Spirits get even higher. The wind is strong enough to accelerate our ship to 6, later 7 knots. Not that racy, I know, on the other hand, that´s normal cruising speed and even maximum speed of ordinary yachts with good sailing conditions. So we don´t complain. After having been at her helm for an hour or so, I do shout to the somewhat dull crew: “Breakfast, anyone?!”. And a big “Hell, yeah!” is screaming out of every corner of our ship. So I proceed down below deck.
The very second I arrive in the galley, it feels like the boat is further speeding up. Her heeling increases and so is the level of noise generated by the flow of the water streaming along the hull. “Are we getting wind?”, I ask up the companionway. Rieke assumes helm, she has a wide grin in her face, her hair wildly blown apart: “Yeah!”. I nod, a bit disappointed to not having had the fun to steer her now, but I have a mission: 20 minutes later there´s a big bowl of hot spicy scrambled eggs with spring onion and fresh fried tomatoes, a bowl of crispy fried bacon, slices of dark bread and white rolls, fresh cucumber and a selection of sausage, cheese and sweet toppings. And for the taste of it: A big jug of freshly brewed hot coffee. Pauli has tears in his eyes, as he storms the galley down the companionway, driven by a daring hunger.
That´s how I like it: Our Class 40 Pogo is sprinting along the water with a constant heeling of some 30 degrees. We put her close hauled and are beating into the wind. That creates a feeling of going much more rapidly than we actually do, but it also is a sensation that lets us scream of joy and excitement. This is what the yacht is made for: Storming through the waves. As we reach 8.5 knots the boat starts to plane again which is a particularly unique experience when driven with such an intense heeling.
“How does she feel at the helm?”, will Pauli ask from time to time, raising his voice to a near-scream as the sound of wind, waves and our wake is overwhelmingly loud. Rieke will just laugh and nod, meaning: She is beautiful at the rudder, no problem, Skipper. After we have cleaned up the galley (fortunately the ship´s cook is relieved from that job) it´s time for the first tack of the day. No wait: It´s the first tack of the whole trip!
As we are rounding the small Island of Aebeloe, Pauli screams: “Ready to tack!” and we storm to our positions. Seconds later the boat changed to starboard-tack and off we are again to race towards the East. “You see those rocks?”, Pauli asks and points to starboard abeam: “That´s Aebeloe, a very nice Island. I once was there in a beautiful lonely anchorage, we set to land with dinghy and roamed the island. It´s full of deer and you may find huge antlers there. A friend of mine once returned with a particularly big deer´s antler acting as a figurehead on his bow.”
I took a long look onto Aebeloe. Not for the deer´s antlers, although I´d loved to drop anchor there much more than always mooring in marinas. I did it because Aebeloe – despite of the fact that we have to literally fight for each and every mile – marks the northernmost spot of our round Fyn cruise. From now on we will be on our way home, the bow will be pointing southward soon. Feeling a bit of sadness, I swapped away those thoughts and again rejoiced in sailing fast with the Pogo.
We tacked a second and a third time to get some height and come around Fyn in the north as the clock neared noon. I retired for half an hour or so down to the saloon to take a nap, as I awoke by not feeling any heeling nor bumping in the waves anymore. The lovely gurgling noise of the water did die as well and I could now hear all voices of the crew again crystal clear. Oh no – not again!
Rasmus doesn´t like Light Beer.
As I came up on deck the engine began to run. Faces turned grey again, Jens and Lena disappeared, as did Rieke and Jan. Pauli hardly said a word, offered me the helm, which I didn´t refused to take. As I had the tiller in my hands, even Pauli disappeared below deck: “Steer 1-0-0 degrees, round that cape over there on the horizon.”, he said, “That´s Kerteminde Bay, our harbor for today.”
Oh my. That´s when I sat down, arranged a fender in a way to act like a backrest and stretched out at the rudder, bracing for hours of monotonous chugging through the sea. Rieke reappeared and sprawled on the port side, Jan remained reading somewhere on the cabin roof, the rest of the crew went for a sleep. SY BOREDOM sneaked along the shores of Fyn. What a damn situation, I thought: Unbelievable – I took all my foul weather gear with me, the heavy sea boots, Neoprene sailing gloves, even the heavy spray water glasses in hope to be forces to stand my ground in heavy weather. Now it´s sneaking with 6 knots by Diesel.
Jan jumped to his feet and pointed to starboard side: “Porpoises!” And he was right: A school of three or four porpoises came to surface, took a breath to dive down. Graciously swimming by holding some 200 meters distance to our loud boat ever more schools of those little wales were sighted. As I had never seen wales – even those small ones – in my life that was truly an awesome sight. For a short time, laughter and excitement returned to the Pogo. But as the porpoises eventually veered away from our noisy ship, so did the rising tension.
Then the whole scene turned ever more strange, as the wind died down completely and not a single puff moved the air. There wasn´t any movement in the water to be seen, a slight mist hovered over the Baltic Sea and dimmed the sunlight, provided for a somewhat metallic feeling: We began to plough through a sea of lead. Heavy, dense, grey water, strange we didn´t heard a single sound apart from our buzzing engine. Fascinating. And repellant at the same time.
After two, three or more hours of running with engine again I was able to give starboard rudder as we steered into the Bay of Kerteminde, our next port of call. Pauli had originally hope that the wind would drive us further round Fyn, further down south as well, but today again was a very tenacious day: “Less than 30 miles, folks.”, he said, sitting down below at the navigation station: “Tough decisions to be made for the next 2 days.” He was right: In two days we would have to be tied up in Kiel again. More than 80 miles to go.
Kerteminde is a small town at the northern shores of Fyn again. It has a small old fishing harbor, situated at an estuary and again it also has a large marina. We tried the harbor and found it empty, so we took the chance to land our boat alongside the pier. Pauli chose a berth more off from the city center right at the exit of Kerteminde again, right so as he wanted to cast off at any moment again. “There´s a strong current here in the harbor due to the river.”, he explained as we had all lines at the bolards: “It´s less the further you land to the sea.” Now we understood.
What a day again, the two faces of the Baltic Sea: We´ve had fairly strong winds today in the morning, a steady Beaufort 3 with tendencies to the 4. We were able to sail the boat under full canvas, beating to the wind and perform some nice and neat tacks, which was great fun. And right after noon, the wind died completely to nothing, forcing us again to turn on the machine.
As we´ve had our dinner, it was a more quiet evening. Not too much talk, less beer and no music at all. Talking of beer: Jens at once got up, took his bottle and stormed on deck: “Now I now why this all happenes!”, he says and pours a large swig of beer into the waters next to the Pogo: “We forgot to share a drink with Rasmus again!” I raised my eyebrows: “Well, I don´t really think Rasmus likes alcohol-free Beck´s …” And I didn´t know that this was a bad omen.
In the Store Baelt.
The fact that Lena had changed the melody of the smartphone timer that was forcing us out of the bunks again the next morning didn´t really helped much. We simply felt no rush to get up. Why should we? There was no wind expected again, we were a bit in despair over that trip as we all had booked the Pogo 40 to sail fast. But as far as this very cruise is concerned, the Pogo had showed her potentials only in short glimpses due to that steady high pressure system that was providing all of Europe with hot, nice and wind-less weather.
As I poked my head out the companionway the sun was again courting my fondness with an overwhelming dawn, an explosion of yellow, red and orange tones. But again, Rasmus wasn´t present as I feared yesterday, and the fact that we got up at six today to leave early “to catch all wind possible” didn´t really provide for any wind at all. So I dressed up, took the board cash and walked into town where I bought some bread and rolls for breakfast and for during the day, returned to the ship from where the flavor of fresh strong hot coffee was filling half the harbor. Nevertheless, spirit where high as we were casting off again and steamed out to the Bay.
“Get the flat top of the main sail to the mast”, Pauli ordered: “We want to be fast up with all our canvas in case wind appears.” Understood. Anyway, there wasn´t wind at all. “Do you have the SRC-certificate?”, Pauli asked. I confirmed. “Proceed down to notify Great Belt Traffic Radio about our intentions to cross the bridge.” “Aye!” As Jens and I were the only ones with the Short Range Certificate, I switched to the working channel at the VHF and called Great Belt Radio.
All boats approaching that largest suspension bridge in Europe have to register at Great Belt traffic and follow their advice. I didn´t get contact upon three calls and decided to try later again as the bridge was 8 miles away still. On port side an all too familiar look appeared as we have been overtaken by another Pogo. We waved. The other boat – a Pogo 50, the large sister of our boat – was one or two knots faster than we were, shortly after we found ourselves in her wake, steaming towards the bridge.
It took hours to reach the bridge. The whole scene was somewhat obscure as this bridge is that huge, one hasn´t any comparison and will underestimate the distance constantly. I couldn´t grasp her size and thought we´d must reach her within one hour or so, but it took nearly three to get near. Again a fine mist was filling the air which made the whole scene even crazier.
At last Jens was able to establish radio contact. Minutes afterwards we went below the bridge. I began to notice a strong current from the north some hours ago, strengthening over time. “I have to point our bow to the left pylon”, I said to Pauli, “to hold a steady course to the right pylon.” This correction angle was huge! As we passed the bridge the current didn´t slow down so I constantly had to bring her to the east in order to steam south.
Then we were through. Two bigger, empty, commercial steamers had a race going on, the bridge acting as finish line. MS METEORA was far faster than her counterpart, but couldn´t manage to get him before crossing the bridge. The big ships went more to the East as we dropped to the South: “That´s Langeland”, Pauli pointed to a dimly structure at the horizon: “The northern tip of it. We can go left of it, rounding Langeland at the outside, or right to it, between Langeland and Fyn.” Where to go? What´s the best decision?
Under normal circumstances, which is: with winds, that would be a decision of importance. Because, between Langeland and Fyn there´s merely 5 miles of water. Down south are shallows and a complicated fairway to be followed to steer away from Langeland again. On the other hand, there should be great sights to see, nice small harbors and anchorages. Winds can go in crazy ways between islands. But now, with no wind at all? The question seemed odd.
On the other hand, if we should get wind, wouldn´t it be better to have it out on the open seas? Where it had enough fetch to develop some strength? Not harmed nor influenced by land in any way? “We go around Langeland, hold the land to her starboard side”, Pauli decided and I was relieved. Because what I was hoping for was the land- & shorewind circulation.
Again, nobody wanted to be at the helm and so I took her. The crew disappeared for hours, talking reduced to the minimum. Then I saw something right ahead … something strange.
A borderline. Two waters. The region we are currently in was made of short, choppy waters with small ripples. Separated by a band of foamy white water, a new region of calm, even lighter appearing water was clearly visible. Fantastic! I´ve never seen something like this in my life and I was standing on the hull to get a sight on how far that “current band”, as I was naming it, reached: It was running from horizon to horizon. As I took my photograph and the boat was crossing over this line it suddenly tuned her bow to the left – a strong indication that in this new area the constant northern current didn´t had any effect and by having a constant starboard rudder correction angly the boat now was going to starboard ever more. “Wooah!”, I was screaming in excitement, corrected helm and we steamed on.
“Let´s stop and have a refreshing bath here”, Jens was asking the Skipper. He agreed: To provide the crew with some fun, it was a relief to turn off the engine, get out the bathing ladder and jump into the waters of the Baltic Sea. We´ve dropped a safety buoy with a floating line attached to the boat just in case, asking the swimmers to stay within reach. Although we were floating, the boat still had a bow wash, making headway with one knot.
Rasmus has a pity with us.
S we´ve had our crew back on board, the boat cleaned and everybody dressed up for sailing again I took a look onto the chart plotter: We lost one full mile by drift. Starting our engine, putting her back to course we spent another hour or so, as step by step, first hardly noticeable, then ever more, something returned we didn´t expect to ever come back: “Is that wind again?”, we asked the skipper and after another half an hour, he confirmed. “Yepp, that´s wind, ladies. Ready to set main sail!”
What a pleasure!
And that´s what happened: We had our canvas brought up as the boat leaned over a bit to her starboard side, going at a 6 knot rate steady, which was a relief and really a present of heaven: “Let´s hope it won´t die down anytime soon: We have to go 80 miles to Kiel from here.” Pauli said. I assumed helm and began to discuss our options. Pauli shared his forecast information with me: “The Danish say that we can expect a Beaufort 6 tonight. I really can´t believe it. But they say it. Germans forecasting less wind, but again a 4 to 5 tonight from the East. Which would be just perfect. But I can´t believe it. Hardly.”
Swell intensified, so did the wind and after one or two hours, sun was already setting, we´ve had 8.5 knots, wind direction steady east blowing even harder. The crew had to get on long sleeves and trousers for it freshened up. A harbinger of things to come? “What shall we do?”, Pauli asked the crew: “We could try to sail to Kiel in one huge leg tonight. That means we would be running watches and – if winds don´t die down – will arrive at Kiel/Laboe at 2 – 3 o´clock in the morning.” We looked at him: Home? Tonight? “The other option is, if the wind will ease again as it did the last days as well, we can drop anchor at the southern tip of Langeland and try to sail the rest of the leg tomorrow, arriving late that day at Kiel.”
No doubt and no long time to think it over needed: With one voice we said: “Let´s sail!” And that´s what we did. Even more, the wind was further freshening up and heeling increased. Helmsmen did had to work again to hold the boat steady on course as there was a long swell rolling up to the ship from abaft, putting her off course each time a wave would roll beneath our hull. Pauli had an extra lesson in steering with Rieke. I went down and prepared “Pogo Hamburger” for dinner: Rolls, a spicy sauce, fried slices of (the rest of yesterday´s dinner) steaks with melted cheese and fresh cucumber.
XXXXBILD 38, sonne geht unter: der plan
“First watch will be Jens, Jan and Lena,” Pauli decided, “Second watch is Rieke, Lars and me. Two hours one watch. If anything happens, sightings of lights, ships and other stuff – get me up!”. Then he took down Jens to the chart table to give him a briefing of the area we were sailing in and his intended courses. “After sunset, lifebelt in the cockpit is customary!”
Pure Sailing Magic.
As I was second watch, I went down and into the sleeping bag. The boat had a nice heeling angle, from the cockpit I heard we were sailing at a rate of 11.5 knots, which was pretty fast. Swell was awesome and so, after inserting ear plugs, I was able to find some minutes of sleep, had a nice catnap. The boat was jumping from wave to wave, sometimes causing trouble at the helm, resulting in somewhat sudden course corrections. I loved laying down in the bunk. “15 to full!”, came the call for the second watch and I jumped out of my bag. As the sun was already down completely I wasn´t able to shoot pictures anymore, but I guess that´s okay since any picture could not describe the pure magic we´ve found in that night. It was just awesome!
Wind was up to a steady 20 knot blow. Not gale force, but compared to what we´ve received the last days, it was just breathtaking. There wasn´t any light except the full moon, shining pale white and creating a magical atmosphere. I could see Langeland Lights in the dark, on the starboard side Fehmarn Light – that´s a German Island – and some fairway buoys of the Baltic Traffic Lane. The boat was speeding up ever more, 12.5 knots over ground!
We were on a beam reach, veering off to broad reach. “That´s a clear Beaufort 4!”, Pauli was screaming, apparently happy with that situation. I agreed: “The right decision to stay out and sail. Not to drop anchor!” He nodded, having a bright grin in his face. Rieke didn´t wanted to steer the boat as she thought it might be too fast, too dark and too much wind blowing here, so I was happy to be at the helm all the time.
The boat was sprinting down the Baltic Sea. I was to hold a steady 115 degrees course and that wasn´t so easy: Each time another puff would give our sails extra power, the Pogo was luffing and sprinting forward, I had to correct that instantly. The next thing was the waves: Rolling up from abaft starboard, anytime a wave would begin to lift our stern I´d had to correct with a port-rudder, easing off and going to starboard-rudder, as the wave would be arriving at our bow, lifting it to put it to the left. After five or so waves I did check the system and developed instinctively my counter-actions. Which worked perfectly: For long stretches of time there wasn´t any deviation from course.
Anyway, it was tedious, as every new wave had to be anticipated and correction rudder to be laid. I had to co-ordinate steering with occasional check of the compass if my bearing was still right and have an eye on the lighthouses, buoys and lights at the shores. Often I would lose course for a moment, bring her back only to be tackled out of the flow in “riding the waves”. Anyway, it was pure fun and joy, also hard work.
As we raced down Langeland, wind freshened up to occasional 25 knots. “How is she behaving on the helm?”, Pauli screamed through the roar of the waves: “Nice!”, I shouted back. The Pogo was indeed very responsive, every single turn at the rudder resulted in immediate action. Pauli nodded, folded his arms and looked back on the black foamy waves. Spray began to hit my face, cooked up from the bow. The sea showed a temper I wished it had all the time. “First watch takes over!”, Jan came through the companionway. What? Two hours already?
I was exhausted when I climbed into the sleeping bag. Closed my eyes to adjust my body flow to the abrupt movements of the boat. It was stormy outside, ever more, wind was blowing hard, the noise down below wasn´t any less than up on deck. Rocky waves hit the hull, we occasionally plunged down to the water with all our weight, resulting in a big BANG! Yet, I did find some sleep again and I wondered, what a full 4-hour watch system in a real gale force storm would be like in terms of exertion. Nevertheless: I just loved it!
As we found ourselves in the cockpit for the second round, it was blowing hard. Steady 25 knots of wind. When a gust hit, the boat luffed and I was hardly abler to hold her on course. We were planing all the time. But then magic happened: Right on top of a wave, still planing, the Pogo was speeding up and surfed down the front of the wave. We were faster than the swell! I really could feel the boat going down, but had to be extra sensitive and wouldn´t dare to take a look to the speedometer. Surfing down, the rudder blades wouldn´t get no grip in the water flow causing the boat to luff and bear away into the wind – I had to snap the tillers hard port-rudder to prevent the ship from shooting into the wind. First time it did that thing, I was laughing and screaming “Whoooahhh!”, second and third time, no laugh anymore. Fourth time: “Skipper! Let´s put in a reef … I can´t hold her anymore!”
And so we did.
Sailing Round Fyn in a Nutshell
We arrived at Laboe Marina – as promised by Pauli, our Skipper – at 3 o´clock in the morning. It was still dark as nothing and we negotiated just by lights. (Here´s an article on night navigation skills). I was exhausted like nothing as the last two hours of constantly helming the boat in the Beaufort 4-5 winds was extremely exhilarating. Bringing a reef to the main eased the strain a bit, but another one arrived instead: Kiel Bay area has plenty of unlit buoys which we must avoid hitting. We should be glad that the full moon was providing some light in the end.
Upon landing, I cannot really remember how I managed to tie her up at pier side. All I know is that I was awakening some hours later, still exhausted. And dressed in foul weather gear.
As the big ferry was blowing her horn, we´ve had breakfast. All the crew still being excited about the last 80 miles sailing action: “These last 24 hours truly made good for the long hours of windless engine running.”, Rieke said. And indeed, the action of last night was pure adventure!
Sailing around Fyn is great fun. The island offers different faces: Forests, long hills with agricultural domains, small villages and nice marinas. It´s people are friendly, food is nice and every day offers a different sight. But with anything, it´s a nature sport and sailing is dependent on wind. As we haven´t been blessed with it all the time, we look back on the trip as a nice, slow, “sunbathing” trip.
And that means: I´d have to book yet another sailing trip on that marvelous Pogo 40 racing yacht: This time I´d go for the latest available date, probably in the North Sea. Where waves are high, winds are steady and blowing hard and one thing will certainly remain in the rucksacks of the lady-crews: Their Bikinis. Sailing the yacht yesterday night through the rough seas with hard blowing winds was just addictive! The moon, the waves, the night … made up for all the boredom before. I remember, when looking up to the Windex that night, I saw a shooting star – coming exactly down our course, shooting towards Kiel.
Leaving is always a hard moment. Leaving the ship, our Skipper and the crew after having had those 7 intense days compressed on a 40 feet living area is even harder. We cleaned the boat, packed our stuff and gave each other long hugs. We know, we will return here. As Pauli said when we started our trip one week ago: “You either love a Class 40 … or you hate her!”. I can say, we loved her. We truly loved her. And so I touched her bow gently, thankful for those 300 fine, astonishing, sometimes boring, sometimes exciting miles around Fyn. What a great ship she is!
Thanks Lena and Rieke for adding spice to our crew. Thanks Jan for our conversations of warping the space-time and Jens for enhancing my knowledge of dinghy shanties. Thanks Pauli for being a great skipper and friend. With you as Captain, I could would cast off around the world at any time.
You want to sail fast on a Poo Class 40 too? Get your booking on Sailingisland.de
Not too much fast sailing, but a “Half Way Round the World”-project in a King´s Cruiser 33 may be read here