Out cold in Bridlington

Flamborough Head

Bridlington

With apologies to the excellent movie, after 52 hours straight sailing all Robin and I want to do is sleep solidly for 8 hours on a boat that isn't bouncing up and down. Although we originally planned our first port of call to be Whitby, tiredness and contrary winds brought us to an earlier stop.

We've made it to Bridlington, a holiday town on the Yorkshire coast, curled up in the lee of Flamborough Head.

To get here, we sailed around East Anglia, our usual sailing grounds, across the Wash, up the Lincolnshire coast to what used to be known as the South Riding of Yorkshire. There was a bit of bad weather as we crossed the Wash, so Robin has decided we are definitley commited to this Round Britain thing - he couldn't face the Wash again this year.

Sailing at night is pretty magical, especially once you are out of sight of land. Seeing the sun set and rise over open water, when you can't see another human being, just a few seabirds taking flight. The peace and quiet of sailing along, with just the sounds of the water on your boat and the occasional flap of your sails.

Passing through busy shipping lanes can also be a challenge. There are all sorts of rules about who can go where and who gives way to whom. From overhead it must look like a slow-motion ballet or a chess game.

Just like train spotters, there are whole websites dedicated to those facinated by ships and shipping. The introduction of a new system called AIS, which logs the position and speed of every vessel over a certain size, has fed the boom. Here's a sample.

Signing off for sleep, now.



54 5.340'N 0 9.632'W