Sixteen year UK Circumnavigation comes to an end and then it blew!

Rested and refreshed after the walk ashore we set off to sort out the Lizard with its light.

Of course the Easterly had arrived which made it nice and popply for us. We took the lesser option of rounding the most southern bit and heading into Falmouth, in particular, St Mawes. Hang a right as soon as the waves calm down and you've passed the lighthouse.

When it gets flat, drop the 'ook. What pleasant surroundings, wooded shores backed by green hills.

The Steward managed to sort something out for dinner. I think he said it was "Toad in the Hole". Top man!

Brekky wasn't that bad either.

The next leg was to end in the river Yealm. Sixteen years ago that was where I purchased Tutak II from a lovely gentleman by the name of Mike Carruthers. So it was with damp eyes that we tied up to the pontoon in the middle of the river under the banks at Noss Mayo. Stunning place with a lifetime wait for moorings probably.

We stopped there for a day or three and inbibed ale and stuff. A great time was had by all but in the end it was time to go.

Hazy day led us past Prawle point and Start point, in which order I can't remember.

Again the Steward rustled up something for our evening meal. Something to sustain our nightly endeavour as we headed east for the Race of Portland and safe harbour beyond. We were racing the gale that was soon to be upon us.

We did very well and the tide served us until the bitter end and the rounding of the bank beyond the race, when a concerned voice broke through the darkness. "Solent Coastguard we are having some engine issues." "Yes Maam. How many persons on board." The reply came with two adults, to which I thought "they'll be alright". Two children which brought me closer to a descision. And ended with " and a dog", well that was it the helm was hard over in a second and we backtracked a couple of miles and called up the yacht to see if they required a tow. The answer was no as they were now sailing but would we stand by as their progress was only half a knot over the stiff tide. Should the wind die they would surely have been taken back into the race. Many hours later, and a dawn, saw us make the entrance to Portland Harbour, what joy.

The wind did indeed blow, blow indeed it did but we were tucked up in the old Olympic marina.