My first guest has just stumped off into the rain (this is Milford Haven) to catch the rather slow but mildly scenic train home, so it’s time for some updates.
Choice of first guest was quite easy: Andrew Penman and I managed to occupy a 14 foot boat for some years without falling out, so in 33 feet we’re always going to be fine, even when he uses half a tank of water washing up one cafetiere. And thank goodness he was here or things could have been very nasty indeed, and rats could have been involved.
I really wanted to explore Carmathen Bay and the rivers Towy and Tafy, not just because of their names but because the slow train to Milford Haven (which I caught many times while buying both my cruising boats) bursts out of the hills here and you get sweeping views across sandbanks to The Gower and Tenby. Dylan Thomas lived here, and I once listened to one of those odd programmes on Radio 4 all about a place called Ferryside where there was no ferry. And best of all there was Burry Port, with good pubs and a marina and a train station and those views. So we made this our first port of call. And, on closer inspection of the weather forecast and the out of date pilot guide, our last, given that these pesky easterlies made Tenby untenbyable (try harder – Ed) and the pilot gave us waypoints for Ferryside that were out of date in 2008. But Andy and I both grew up sailing in mud so Burry Port and its unmarked, meandering, shallow entrance held few fears.
Now many readers will know Andrew, and the pleasure he gets from consulting the internet on any matter, especially to do with sailing, especially while sailing, so will not be surprised to learn that while I supped my beer and looked at the urban marinascape of Swansea he had his head down checking out Burry Port’s digital footprint. First indications were slightly daunting – the harbourmaster was at complete odds with the pilot as to which muddy channel you went up, and had all kinds of dire warnings about not being responsible for any navigational stuff whatsoever, so we’d decided a call first thing would be sensible.
Then Andrew’s tone changed, and many will recognise and easily picture the slow “oh dear” and the shake of the head, in spite of the huge plate of chips now before him. “This does not sound good”. The word ‘mud’ was beginning to clog up his browser’s algorithms. Apparently the place was silting up. I was still keen though, this is why I bought a boat with a lifting keel. And I’m from the Medway. Mud? Bring it on!
But Penman was not yet done with the gloom. Now he had found Burry Port’s Facebook page. They were apologising for the lack of dredging but insisted it would all be in hand by 1st May. Today was the 2nd: a touch fine. I was beginning to waver. Things got worse: by the time the puddings arrived he’d unearthed some chat group for the unlucky bertholders, from which we learned that the marina gate had come off, the place had silted up and the dredger had either broken or not turned up. He even had a drone picture of a totally empty marina.
Then he delivered the coup de grace:: complaints now from the townspeople of Burry Port that boats were stuck in the mud, all the infrastructure had disappeared and – the final word for me – the pontoons were infested with rats. Rats! Rats and boats do not go together. Sarah and I once had a nasty moment on a boat in Greece with some rats as big as goats (they turned out to be goats, luckily) so I wasn’t going to risk this again. Even on the Medway we don’t have rats actually in the mud, not since Charles Dickens and the hulks anyway.
So Penman saves the day, three cheers.. We would have arrived to find a rat-ridden muddy swamp, and nowhere else to go safely. Instead, we ended up with a rather longer sail to Milford Haven and peered at Tenby and Laugharne and Ferryside and Burry Port in the murky distance. We tried to get closer to the shore to look at the beautiful scenery but the man on the military range called us up and made it clear that we could become a target for some Ukrainians in their new Challengers so we kept the land out of sight.
But at least we ended up in a rat- and mud-free marina drinking prosecco, but that feels like another post. Possibly shorter and more interesting, you’ll be pleased to hear.
Having saved us from the rats, Penman settled down to his core skill: sailing as close as possible to Very Large Tankers. This was the one that didn’t make the Haven Pilot come and glare at us; I thought it best to put my phone away and try to look professional at that point.
Blue Moon's trip around the UK 
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