Homeward bound
The day was finally here; time to take Maximus, our Maxi 84, from Chichester Marina to her new home in Poole.
After many sleepless nights, last-minute trips to Force 4 chandlery, and a practice run through the lock, I was ready. My notebook was full of pilotage sketches and memos to watch out for ships turning and tidal races. I had Navionics on my tablet, Lighthouse charts on the plotter, and a full set of beautiful Imray paper charts – so new, I was sorry to have to spoil them with my ugly pencil marks!
The batteries were charged and the tank refuelled. With the help of PBO contributor Gilbert Park, my uncle Steve and husband James, we’d have plenty of capable hands on deck for the two-day voyage.
There was just one thing I hadn’t managed to do, and that was to unfurl the genoa. Leaving it to the last-minute, I’d tried briefly on the dock, but it had jammed a metre out, and no riggers were available to help. Ah well.. we’d have to work that one out underway. Besides, there was little wind and we had a decent engine. What could possibly go wrong?
Time to go
Gilbert entered the details of our trip into his RYA Safetrx app on his phone. This free app alerts a nominated emergency contact – in this case, his wife Maire – should we not arrive on time. If Maire were then to call the Coastguard, they’d have our location data to hand.
Lifejackets on, lines slipped, we were away! Our maiden voyage (excluding the short trip from Dell Quay to the marina) had begun. I couldn’t contain my excitement as we went through the lock and out into Chichester harbour.
It was a grey but mild November morning, and I felt sad to leave the marina where we’d had so many fun weekends. However, winter was closing in, our weather windows were diminishing, and I was looking forward to having Maximus closer to home. A four-hour return trip every time we needed to work on the boat was just not feasible.
It took about an hour to reach the harbour entrance. I watched the expanse of pretty creeks and oak-fringed shores retreat, wishing I’d had more time to explore.
Though the water was dead still and glimmering in the occasional burst of low sun, Chichester bar was eerily choppy. The waves seemed to appear from nowhere – so big you could surf them – then died almost immediately. We held on tight, and rattled and rolled as we motored over them before
