May 9 Eddystone Lighthouse and Black Rock

The Working Boats of Newlyn

It really is pretty in Newlyn

What motivates people to sail small boats on cold challenging water? We are a nation of seafares, in the past it was a means to linking one place to another and the sea was the easiest route, then came trade and all that entailed. As a result our coastline lined with markers and lighthouses which keep those that ride her waters safe from the multitude of hazards that surround our wonderful coast. Every time I pass a nasty headland or rock which has a lighthouse I say thank you. It is a pity that these sentinals are under threat by the false security that GPS navigation now provides.
Today on our as plied towards Falmouth we sailed past Eddystone Lighthouse which marks the notorious rocks outside Plymouth. Many lives have been lost on these rocks and it was by the motivation of a merchant in the 17th Century, Henry Whitstanley, that a light house was erected. He lost his life in the very place that he built to protect the ships coming in and out of Plymouth harbour. But the need was recognised and the light was reerected several times and still stands as an exclamation mark of our history as a country molded by the sea.

The Chain Anchor nautically decorated

Bye Chubbster

Rumline arrived safely into Falmouth Hartbour later that afternoon. Chubbs was going to step off and he will be missed, but not before a dinner and pint of the long awaited for Doom Bar at the sailors haunt called the Chain Locker.
Following morning with aching heads, Falmouth is a place that knows how to spend a Friday night, we cast off our lines to make for Newlyn. Everyone we spoke to mentioned how rough a harbour this is, housing the largest commercial fishing fleet on the south coast. With sun shining and a gentle breeze we sailed past the manacles out toward the Lizard and it's notorious tidal gate. We catapulted around on a fair tide and into Mounts Bay. St Michaels Mount with its famous causeway lie to starboard as we made our entry into Newlyn Harbour. It is a spit a sawdust sort of place, full of working boats and the rusting hulks of boats crippled by this country's fishing policies. Calling the harbourmaster with humility due when entering a working harbour with a pleasure vessel, we were greeted and directed to tie up alongside a solid looking and well maintained fishingboat. Contray to expectation I love Newlyn Harbour for its honesty and purpose. The fisherman were kind and accomodating in a no nonsense way which I respect. These are men who work the sea in all sorts of conditions and for not huge profit. They are brave and heroes in my mind. The town of Newlyn has its cultural side which I imagine is overlooked by those that enter its harbour it was the home of the Newlyn art movement and a museum is available to visit. Dave the frindly harbourmaster suggested  a wonderful restaurant for dinner, The Meadery.
Minutes walk from the nets and fishy smells of the port standing on a daffodil lined stream is a place which can only be described as a modern day 16th century watering hole. It specialises in meade, fruit wine and the freshest most delicious fish fry I have tasted. Full of laughing families, visitors and people who have been loyal to this establishment over the decades the atmosphere is lively and fun. Needless to say we stumbled back to boat after a small detour to Mousehole and the Ship Inn. Tomorrow around Lands End and the rollers of the Atlantic.