Be careful what you wish for.

The original plan was to hop around the coastal harbours of Picardie and Haute Normandie but with a weather front approaching we decided to make a short final stop in Calals before an overnight passage straight to Cherbourg where we could sit out the blow in familiar surroundings. But I was impatient for my first bowl of Moules so rather than hold out for a favourite Norman hostelry “La Commerce” in Cherbourge we set off in search of a steaming bowl.

Calais is really just a ferry port, few people stop of there being on the way from or to somewhere else, it’s a pleasant enough little marina but restaurant choices are limited. Nonetheless we found a little bistro and tucked in to the long awaited moules marinière a decision I was soon to regret.

Any passage of any length in the English Channel (La Manche to our French friends) is dominated by the separation zones designed to stop the huge number of ships (over 500 a day) from bumping into each other. They show up on the chart as broad magenta swathes and we are not allowed in. If we have to cross it’s at our own risk and must be done at 90 degrees but under no circumstances can we sail along them even in the right direction. So the 150NM (165 statute miles) passage has an additional 25NM detour with regular course and sail changes. It can’t be done in a single tide so for parts of the trip you will have anything up to 2kn of tide pushing you the wrong way.. Add to that the cross channel ferry traffic to avoid and its a passage that needs respect and attention but nothing we haven’t done a gazillion times before..

Tides meant we couldn’t get out of Calais until mid afternoon and as the sun dropped two things happened. First it got cold, the wind was good for sailing but had a real bite - the Irish call it a lazy wind - can’t be bothered going round you so it goes straight thru. The second was deep rumblings from my stomach followed by cramps, uncontrollable shivering and the inevitable explosions to follow. It only takes one bad crustacian to take you out big time and it seems I got it. Things got worse as the night went on and it was all I could do to keep up with the Navigation. Normally on a short overnight I would stay on watch and catnap but by 2.00am I could barely stand. As always Terry was a rock and stayed in the cockpit for most of the night keeping watch, making course and sail changes. By dawn I could just about take over for a couple of hours before crashing out again.

Berthing the boat in Cherbourg was an act of will, for from the joyous homecoming we planned and for the next several days I could not face food or raise the enthusiasm to go off and rediscover. The winds from the low pressure front rattled the lines and rocked the boat but I spent most of it in my bunk feeling sorry for myself.

We spent a week in Cherbourg and went off exploring as my digestive system slowly got untwisted and, whilst I will eat Moules again it will be in places I know I can trust.