10:50am, topped up with fuel and water we left the river motoring our way south towards the Isle of Wight then westwards along the South coast to Poole. The wind was westerly throughout the day which prevented any sailing as we powered against the wind but with the tied. The combination of the opposing directions of the wind and tide created huge waves as we left The Solent which we battled the entire journey. What began as blue skys and sunshine soon was swept away by the wind and replaced by the dark and scary gloom of rain clouds. I blame Nick for this sudden change in Weather as he confidently said as we left, ‘We are heading for blue skies’. Within a matter of minutes he was dripping from head to toe at the helm, but still with an enthusiastic smile and determined look on his face.
I was on the helm, aiming 242 degrees West. I allowed my knees to bend with the bounce of the boat .The waves grew as we jetted past ‘The Needles’, eroded rocks, which mark the end point of the Isle of Wight. The named rocks were ironic as we squinted through the stabbing hail that felt needle like against the skin.They stood boldly and jagged in a patch of sunshine, the white chalk rock shone in an almighty manor against the black surrounding skies. I settled into the task of steering closer to our destination.
A cup of soup revived the crew as we reached the tail of the stormy weather… or so we thought. Thunder boomed too our left. It was an immense feeling to be out in the towering waves swooping upwards and downwards whilst the skies spoke around us. It felt powerful. The rain began to plummet again as the falling black cloud darkened over the Wildbird.
As we moved further from Bournemouth and closer to the Jersey that lead into Poole blue skies and sunshine appeared. Classic. It dryed our dripping faces as the water flattened and calmed and before we new it the severn hour trip was over. We arrived in Poole at 18:25, moored up and engine turned off.