Bangor and the Isle of Man.

We had eaten most of the fresh supplies so a raid was planned and the unfortunate town of Bangor was the victim of our pillage.  We managed to sail through the breakwaters without being spotted but the the Royal Ulster Yacht Club had spies abroad and we were spotted and coralled to the far corner where it is half a mile of pontoons to reach the facilities.  I confess the facilities were very good and probably up to the 20 or so golden anchor awards and only a few percent more than the lesser places.  There were more than a few fine boats there.  We were moored bow to bow with a big daddy Fisher 46.  I reckon you could fit five Tutaks in her hull and still have room.

 

Yes, through the lingering haze the block housing the facilities can just be seen in centre picture.

The Steward rustled up some brekky for us and the day was off to a good start.
 

And continued apace once the harbour walls had been left behind as we raced eastwards.
 

 Rounding the corner of Belfast lough we headed sarf wing a wing.



Many miles later we passed the old lighthouse on the South rock even though the North ones seemed worse to me!



Cold, tired and hungry, (the line from a song by....) we rounded up to drop the hook in Knockinelder Bay.

That evening I was subjected to this!  The sacrifices I make for sailing.
 


We were overlooked by this rather pretty castle.




 I bet they can't see the barn from their front window mind.

The morning had us up happy as the wind was light and blowing us across the Irish sea.  So with every scrap of cloth hanging off the rig we scampered offshore only to lose the wind completely after an hour.  All that work had to be undone and acres of nylon had to be repacked.  Another hour of motoring had us heading into a stiff breeze, and yes, it was on the nose!

Sometime later that day we reached Calf Sound.  It separates the little island of the Calf of Man to the south west from the main island and the tide runs well. 



Whether it is a spectator sport, watching boats run the sound, or whether there was something else going on I know not but the car park was full to overflowing.

Safely through, and it was a piece of cake really, we took the coast round to the north and east for a mile or two to look for Port St Mary. 
 

There we picked up a visitor mooring and settled down for the evening.
 
 
The weather was due to blow from the south so we were going to be around for a day or two.  We decided to become tourists for the duration and armed with bus timetables and a list of what to do and see we set forth just before lunch.  The hotel was next to the bus stop and we had just missed one so we stopped for a pint.
 

That evening we staggered out of the bar and headed back to the boat!

We didn't miss the bus the next day and ended up in Douglas to see the castle in the bay.
 

Before heading on to the electric railway to do Snae Fell, sadly topped with cloud and blasted by a gale.
 

 Our descent was timed to conincide with a conection to take us to visit Issabella.
 
  
Issabella is still in fine fettle and will continue to turn for many more years.  Our entrance fee has seen to that!



After such a shock we took to sugar and partook a portion of cake.






Another day had us back in Douglas where we ventured to look at the marina.  One locks in over a drop cill and lift bridge.
 


Many euros have been spent here with a good mix of harbour wall and pontoons.
 


Sadly spoilt by the upper reaches being used for the storage of abandoned or unloved boats.  Even the swans look down beat.
 

We had moved Tutak to the inner harbour as it was getting boisterous on the mooring.  Leg out she settled nicely on the sandy bottom.
 

 They thoughtfully reserve placed for visitors in the inner harbour as the visitor buoy are a little exposed in some winds.
 

The inner harbour with the tide out probably taken from the Albert Hotel window.
 

 We took the opportunity to pack the inflatable away once the wildlife had been encouraged to vacate.


Still at peace with the tide in although a surge can work its way in as we found out.

 
The Steward takes his role seriously you know.
 

And later on prepared some fresh vegatable savoury rice with frikadellen accompanied by a couple of tropical screwdrivers.  What joy.
 

Enough is enough, one can only do so much and we had reached that point.