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Cat’s log 1
Maxx, the municipal cat of Porto Santo
Journey from England to Ireland
Saturday 17 June 2006, 8 a.m.
What a wonderful day to start an adventure! The sky is blue and the birds are singing and the sun has been shining brightly since 7 a.m. My fur is warm and my tummy is full of cornflakes. I am here on my boat leaving Plymouth Sound with Bubby and Lawry the Skipper. My name is Cluff and I am the night skipper.
Oh! I forgot to tell you that my adventures are at sea because I am a sea cat. I was asked by my cousin Fluffy (see next photo) who is a very handsome cat from Somerset to accompany Bubby and Lawry on their journey. After a very pleasant meal of prawns he asked me to make sure that they are safe and to advise them on maritime matters because although they are good sailors they are people and we all know that cats can sense danger more quickly than people.
Fluffy, a very handsome cat from Somerset
I must tell you about my cousin Fluffy. He was living with Aunty Bubby and Lawry in Taunton before they decided to embark on this big sailing adventure. Unfortunately he could only find two of his sea legs, so he was not able to accompany them. His two back legs. His front two sea legs could not be found. He went sailing all around beautiful Devon in England and then over to France but unfortunately poor Fluffy felt very sick without his two front sea legs.
We talked about this one afternoon while having scones and clotted cream and we came to the conclusion that as he was descended from a well-known line of cats in Somerset that he was given excellent land legs for hunting and racing, but not sea legs.
After more scones and clotted cream Fluffy decided to remain at his home in Taunton with Joe, Ely and their old dog Mollie, and he would make sure that the garden is well protected from ruffian cats and sloworms, squirrels and any other intruders. We agreed that I would write a log so that he can keep up to date with my adventures and he agreed to send letters from Somerset. We both agreed that keeping in touch is very important.
Saturday 17 June 2006, 6 p.m.
We have just put down the anchor in the Helford River in Cornwall after a full day at sea. Mr Wind barely said hello today so the sails have been very noisy, yapping and chatting with no work to do. Elephanta our magnificent engine was very happy because she did most of the work and made sure that Bubby and the Skipper reached the river safely. After leftover pasta, and goat’s cheese and smoked ham sandwiches for lunch, I had a wonderful nap. I must go now to eat dinner before I have another nap as I will be on anchor watch all night.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
Bubby at the helm of Light Blue leaving Plymouth Sound
Cat’s log 2
Elephanta, our magnificent engine, does a wobbly
Wednesday 21 June 2006, 7 p.m.
Well, hello again! We are here on the Isles of Scilly having a very relaxing time. Poor Elephanta is not feeling too well. Two of her pulley wheels need to be replaced. When she is working they go round and round, but yesterday the Skipper discovered that they were wobbly so Elephanta felt ill when she was working. We are now waiting for the new pulleys to come from the mainland, because you see we are on an island and everything comes from the mainland except the fish.
I must tell you a very peculiar story that Cedric, one of the Isles of Scilly seagulls told me, but first you will be glad to hear that I have just had some very good lamb chops and potatoes so my tummy is full and I am relaxing on one of Lawry’s new black cockpit cushions.
Cedric, a seagull from the Isles of Scilly
© Jean-michel Leclercq — FOTOLIA
This morning at 4.30 a.m. just as the sun was rising, I noticed a man in his dinghy rowing from the shore. He rowed to a particular spot and then proceeded to row in circles until 5.15 a.m. He rowed and rowed and rowed and then he rowed ashore, got on his bicycle and went home.
Just as he was out of sight I heard a loud SQUAAAAAAWK!!!!!!! I looked around and there was Cedric sitting on the boom without permission. I was just about to tell him politely to move when he SQUAAAAAWKED!!! again and said "silly John Bilgeless rowing in circles". I said pardon me, what did you say? He replied in a shrill voice. "You are an incomer (tourist) so you don’t know. That man is John Bilgeless. I will SQUAWK tell you his story". Well this is the story of John Bilgeless without Cedric’s SQUAAWKS.
John had always wanted his own boat but he had never sailed. When he was a little boy he wanted his own boat, when he was a teenager he wanted his own boat, when he was a young man he wanted his own boat and then one day when he was 49 he had saved enough money to buy his own boat.
She was a beautiful blue boat and her name was “Beauty”. He admired her when he saw her on stilts in the yard. He admired her when he saw her being lifted into the water by the big crane and most of all he admired her when she was in the water. When he was on Beauty he admired her shiny woodwork and her shiny winches and her white sails. That was seven years ago.
Every day after John had bought Beauty, he said that that day was the day that he would sail her out of the bay. It would be a perfect day. He would pack his lunch, ride his bicycle to the pier, get into his dinghy and row towards Beauty, but then he would start to admire her and row in circles admiring her bow (front) admiring her stern (back) admiring her mast (tall pole where the sails fly) and just admiring his beautiful boat. Then he would look at his watch and realise that it was lunchtime, it was too late to sail and it needed to be the morning for John to start his perfect sail so he would row ashore and sit on the pier eating his lunch admiring his beautiful boat.
John Bilgeless, Esquire
John did this every day for six years. Then one morning he got up, made his lunch, rode his bicycle to the pier and rowed his dinghy to the usual place but Beauty was nowhere to be seen. John phoned the coastguard and the guards and the ambulance men and the dentist and the doctor and everyone he could think of and asked them if they knew what had happened to Beauty, but nobody knew where she was.
One day two weeks later, Derek the diver knocked on John Bilgeless’s door. He told John that he has seen Beauty. He said that she was safe and sound at the bottom of the sea in the harbour sitting with the lobsters and lots of seaweed. That afternoon Derek with the help of the coastguard brought Beauty to the surface and all along her waterline she had a thin crack where water was seeping in. That night the coastguard knocked on John Bilgeless’s door.
He told John that he had worn away Beauty’s waterline because of the constant tiny wave (called the wake) from his dinghy circling her for years. John started to cry and said that he never wanted to harm Beauty. He told the nice coastguard that he had always wanted a boat but that he had never sailed and that every day he wanted to sail but was too frightened. The coastguard made John a nice cup of cocoa and said that he and Derek would teach John how to sail when he had repaired Beauty.
So now John Bilgeless gets up in the morning and rows in circles for just 20 minutes, because old habits are hard to change, and then he goes back to the pier and cycles to the marina where Beauty is kept, and goes sailing with Derek and the coastguard.
I thanked Cedrick for telling me the story and then I had a particularly good breakfast of rashers and freshly baked rolls. I must go for a morning snooze as Auntie Bubby and Lawry are now up.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
On the Isles of Scilly
Cat’s log 3
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The placid Celtic Sea
Sunday 2 July 2006, 3 a.m.
It's wonderful to be on watch in the Celtic Sea. There is a crescent moon and the sea is gentle and calm. We left the Isles of Scilly at 7 a.m. on Saturday morning and we are bound for Ireland. As we were leaving the islands, Stanley seal popped his head up and wished us a safe trip. Then he flipped over on his back and swam over to the rocks to join his family for breakfast
I took over watch at 11 p.m. from Lawry. It was very quiet, with only the gently sound of the sea rippling and Lawry snoring. The first gannet patrol checked in at 11.30 p.m. Jackie is the squadron leader and she was accompanied by her daughter Lou Lou. She said that all was clear up ahead and that she would report any changes to me. I must finish my cup of cocoa and sardine sandwich and then I will tell you about the gannets.
3.45 a.m.
Yum Yum, now my tummy is full and the sea is a soft grey colour in the moonlight. Now gannets patrol the coasts of Ireland and England. They are the largest sea birds off the coast and when their wings are spread out they are longer than Lawry. They have black tips at the end of their wings and yellow feathers at the top of their heads. They are very handsome. They like to eat all types of fish, so they don’t eat cornflakes or scones. Speaking of scones we had the most wonderful scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream for elevenses. Oh, back to gannets. They have gannet cities they call breeding colonies in Cork, Kerry, Dublin, Wexford and Mayo. They fly in squadrons over the sea looking for fish and reporting any dangers or floating objects to boat skippers. Jackie told me that she goes for a long holiday to the sun in West Africa with all her family and neighbours between December and February every year.
Jackie, squadron leader of the Gannet Patrol
© Matthew Boggs — FOTOLIA
5.30 a.m.
Jackie and Lou Lou have just handed over to the Irish squadron leader Gearoid. They glided in the air-stream behind the sails and chatted before heading back for the islands. Lou Lou asked me to send her regards to her many cousins on the Blasket Islands if we sail past there. I agreed to do this gladly.
11.30 a.m.
I am just about to curl up for a sleep with my tummy full of clotted cream, scones and jam. Bubby got up early and allowed me to hoist the Irish flag on the right (starboard) side of the boat because we are now in Irish waters and it is very polite and seacat-like to always fly a courtesy flag. I must go to sleep now.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
Stanley seal says "Hello!"
© Toralf Jacob — FOTOLIA
Cat’s log 4
Leaving Kinsale, Ireland, for Spain
Sailing from Ireland to Spain
Thursday 14 September 2006, 9 a.m.
This morning I am very excited. The sky is blue and we are leaving Kinsale and Ireland to sail to Spain, so no more anchor watch for me. I will be on full night-skipper watch at sea for the next five or six days.
Now, you may be wondering where the report for the circumnavigation of Ireland is. After arriving in Ireland from the Scillies, I had eaten so many scones with Cornish clotted cream, that I fell asleep and didn't see anything of the trip. Never mind, Bubby and Lawry tell me it was lovely, that they made many stops on the way around and visited a lot of hostelries (fancy word for pubs).
11 p.m.
I have had a wonderful sleep all day except for my meals of course and now I am on night watch. The night is clear and Ursa Major is starting to appear in the north sky. Ursa Major is a group of stars that is also known as the Great Bear and the Great Bear’s back and tail is made up of seven stars called the Plough. This is Fluffy’s favourite group of stars. If you get a chance be sure to go outside with someone and find the Plough in the night sky. When I see the Plough I know that Fluffy will probably be gazing at it in Somerset.
Now I must go and keep watch for ships while Bubby and Lawry sleep. My cat’s eyes are particularly useful on night watch because it is very easy for me to tell the difference between rising stars on the horizon and lights from passing ships. Sometimes it takes ages for Bubby and Lawry to decide which is which, but I am always there to help if they ask.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
Cat’s log 5
Diego the dolphin keeping us company on our way to Spain
Saturday 16 September 2006, 7 p.m.
Our journey is going very well and has been uneventful except for some fellow travellers we met today. I was snoozing in the cockpit after a lunch of tomato soup with bread and cheese rolls, when I heard the sound of whistles, splashing, clicking and yapping all at the same time.
You guessed it was a school of dolphins. Well, I yawned and stretched and put my head over the side of the boat to be greeted with a big smile from a particularly young dolphin. "Hello," he said "I’m Diego, who are you?" I told him who I was and where we were going. He was very excited and found it difficult to keep quiet until I had finished. Then he darted off shouting "The tuna are coming, the tuna are coming!"
Just as he disappeared an older dolphin swam alongside the boat. He said "I am Diego’s father, please excuse my son’s bad manners. He gets particularly excited at this time of year because we are out to meet the tuna. They always travel up the Atlantic Coast at this time of year and the young ones have such fun.” I introduced myself and then he told me that his name was also Diago and he recounted a very interesting story about his name.
"Many, many years ago the body of a great and holy man named St James was brought to Spain by boat from the Mediterranean sea. At the time the seas were very dangerous and a group of particularly brave dolphins were asked to accompany the boat and ensure that it got to the port of Padron in Northern Spain safely, where the great and holy man was going to be buried.
"Now, the Spanish for the name James is Iago and and of course the letter D stands for dolphin, so all of those brave dolphins were all bestowed with the name of Diago after the great and holy man, and were told that their sons could also use that name. I and my son Diago are descended from one of those brave ones.
"For hundreds of years travellers have gathered at a place not far from Padron called Santiago De Compostela to honour this man."
Now it was my turn to be excited because I knew that this was one of the places that Bubby planned to visit. I told him about our travels and our plans and he wished us well before darting off after his son who was starting to swim dangerously near to the bow of our boat.
I better curl up for another few hours before I am on watch.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
Santiago de Compostela
Cat’s log 6
Cape Finisterre, which means "headland at the end of the earth"
19 September 2006, 7 a.m.
This morning I have just handed over watch to Lawry. It was a busy night because we were just passing north of the shipping lanes off Cape Finisterre and a thick fog came down so it was particularly difficult for Lawry and Bubby to see the lights from the big ships approaching.
Of course, it was not as difficult for me because I was able to rely on my superior hearing, so although I could not see the boats I could judge their distance using my ears. I’m off to have some tea and toast and marmalade before I go down for a nap.
9 a.m.
I just can’t settle down to sleep. There’s something in the air that I just can’t put my paw on. Maybe it’s because we are approaching the Costa da Morte (the coast of death) It is called this because so many sailors have lost their lives and ships have descended into the deep off this treacherous coastline.
I had a chat with Lawry and Bubby over a cup of nice hot tea and some fresh granary bread out of the oven. I told them that I was feeling unsettled, because it is very important when you are sailing on a boat to let people know how you are feeling and if you notice any changes around you. We all decided that we would sail in behind Cape Finisterre and anchor on our first night in Spain. After this I went back to sleep feeling a little better.
1.30 p.m.
How lovely to wake up to the smell of tomato soup and fresh bread. While having lunch Bubby told me that she had been listening to the Spanish weather forecast and that my cat’s sense had been correct that there was something in the air: a hurricane!
Now I have sailed for many years in waters all around the world and have only ever been in two hurricanes and they were in waters much further south of Ireland and England and Spain. A hurricane is when Mr Wind blows and blows and blows and then Roars and Roars and Roars and every cat must take shelter or else they will be blown off their four legs, and every boat must seek shelter. We will have to prepare well before the storm but first time for another snooze.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
Hurricane Gordon is on the way
Cat’s log 7
Light Blue well tied up awaiting Hurricane Gordon
20 September 2006, 2.30 a.m.
What a hectic few hours but now everything has settled down and I am enjoying a cup of cocoa with some ginger biscuits. As planned we anchored behind Cape Finisterre at around 7 p.m.
Very wisely Lawry phoned the Spanish coastguard to let them know that we were in Spanish waters. The kind coastguard told us to move immediately to Finisterre, because he did not know when the hurricane would hit and he said that it would be best if we moved straight away.
Elephanta made sure we got to Portosin safely because we had no wind and of course I was on watch to give guidance on the direction and speed of all of the boats around us as it was dark. We anchored about an hour ago outside the harbour wall and to my delight we were greeted by Alonia, Benito, Carlos, Diego, Fernandez, Gabriel, Hulio, Isabel, Joaquin, Leandro,and their grandmother Margarita the elder cat, all sitting majestically on the harbour wall assisting the local fishermen fishing on the rocks off the wall.
I know that my anchor watch tonight will fly by because I will be in good company.
Cluff, the Night Skipper. Out!
