{"id":4124,"date":"2026-09-06T06:30:00","date_gmt":"2026-09-06T05:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/?p=4124"},"modified":"2026-09-05T20:43:14","modified_gmt":"2026-09-05T19:43:14","slug":"the-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/2026\/09\/06\/the-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it\/","title":{"rendered":"The end of the world as we know it"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

And just like that, one year on, it was time to leave Portland and the safety of pontoon life behind. Time to leave faces that had become familiar and people that had grown accustomed to our presence. Albeit in a fleeting kind of way as we’d never exchanged much more than a brief hello with most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There’d be no more nosily inspecting campervans that lined the streets as we passed them on our daily walks. No more local cafe from which wafted the smell of freshly baked bread and sweet goods, nor helicopters flying low overhead to and from their training ground – a disturbance of the peace, but a familiar one. No more aerial views just a 10 minutes drive from our home.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Open sea to the left and Portland Harbour on the right<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

We’d done as much preparation as we could in the final days, including the biggest food shop we’d ever had – stocking up on tins and heavier long-life items. We’d taken our final trip to the nearby cafe for that freshly baked bread.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of my most informative interactions on the area had been during a taxi ride from Weymouth back to Portland. The lady driving me had grown up on Portland, known as the island, though it is technically connected by a tombolo. She regaled tales of the weather in the 80s when she’d been a young girl. Storms would be so bad that the one road in and out of the town would close. As she went to school off the island in Weymouth, that meant she’d be either unable to get to school or excitedly be going to a friend’s for an impromptu sleepover. She mentioned The Cove, a pub we’d had the pleasure of going to, that had boldly been built on a promenade facing west, and how people would occasionally be sitting down for their evening meal when a rowing boat would fly through a nearby window, catapulted in by the ferocious waves!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps because of the island feel, and the hardy conditions they have to face, Portland has a quirky feel about the place. Something that had immediately made us warm to it. <\/p>\n\n\n

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Route planning<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Preparing the pilotage plan for Poole Harbour<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

On our last evening in the marina, Haydn, the friendliest employee we’d had the pleasure of meeting, assisted in our refuelling. He then showed us how to walk Lanita down the pontoon, leap frogging our mooring lines from one cleat to the next. This meant the hardware took the weight of the boat as the wind tried to push her away from the pontoon. We did this until we\u2019d created enough momentum that Lanita glided effortlessly beside us, allowing us to move along the pontoon with ropes loosely in hand, as though taking her for a leisurely walk. We tied Lanita partway down the visitor pontoon, near the exit into the harbour, ready for a quick exit the following morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Haydn imparted more wisdom as we went into the office to pay, a person who seems to thrive in those moments where their knowledge can help others. Before parting ways, we’d also learned that he had spent years in the TV and film industry, and had appeared in more than one German movie! Stories completely unexpected, it was a reminder of the many layers and lives a person has.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We headed to bed later than planned, as often happens the night before a palpable change. Portland, of course, couldn’t let us leave without one more blustery night. Constant wind seemingly a trademark of the exposed marina.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Journeying east<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

We awoke in early dusk, making our preparations as the day began to lighten. Unfortunately, as expected, the downside to our staying on the visitor pontoon was that both the current and the wind were pushing us against the pontoon. Though expected, we were unprepared, having been preoccupied with so many other parts of our journey, and too tired by the time we’d had a spare moment at the end of the previous day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a long, straight pontoon so our ad hoc plan was to go forward and turn once we’d passed the end. It turned into quite a shambles as I was unable to steer us even inches from the platform. Fenders began to be pushed up at angles due to our momentum, meaning now we were at risk of a large gouge being taken out the side of Lanita! Miki leapt down to push the boat off the pontoon leaving me panicked at the helm, fearing that I’d end up leaving without him if I successfully made it away!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then as quickly as the madness had started, it was over. We turned bow out of the marina and into the expansive harbour. Being the only ones out at that early hour let us experience a sense of serenity. The gently rippling waters likely helping in our recovery from the flustered start. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something else we’d planned to test, but had run out of time (or perhaps brain power), was the mechanics of the main sail. The winch attached to the mast, which is key in being able to pull out the sail, had ceased before we’d bought the boat and had needed to be removed and serviced while we’d had the mast down. It had now been about seven months since we’d used it, and we’d reached a point of just hoping that it would be OK\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n

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Leaving Portland Harbour at sunrise<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Of course, hope doesn’t always get you the conclusion you’d like. We tested the system before exiting the safety of the harbour, lo and behold it was stuck again. Disaster. Miki went up to the mast to have an argument at closer quarters, pulling ropes, then the sail, twisting the pulley, swearing\u2026 The sky to the east now a mixture of peach and baby blue, inviting, but ignored as we struggled on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Half an hour or so later the main sail had gone in and out several times, but our confidence in the system was at an all time low. We made the call to continue forward. Heading back into Portland for another day would mean a battering to our morale that in our current, tired states, we would have struggled to overcome. There was barely a light breeze in the air, so we would have to progress initially with the motor anyway. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the morning evolved, we cut corners on the route we’d planned. With the motor running and no wind, we could take a more direct route as wind angle wasn’t a concern. At times, with the tidal stream in our favour, we were reaching 8kts (around 8 miles an hour) – a very good pace where travel by a cruising sailboat is concerned! <\/p>\n\n\n

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No hands! Testing “George”<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

For the first time we had the chance to use “George” the autopilot, now we had battery power to do so. Though we were a little concerned about the amount of power it would use, we needn’t have been. Thanks to our solar panels we arrived with a better charge in our batteries than when we’d left!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Excitement at sea<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Well past halfway, we began to see a large number of something in the water, heading our way. An inspection through the binoculars didn’t do much to help us understand what was ahead – try looking for detail on something small in the distance as you bob up and down! There were so many dark figures moving quickly that my imagination began to fly. Was it a military group, or an armed gang about to attack us?! Surely not here, so close to land?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The small army of boats was zipping about the water, gathering in a group, and then darting off again shortly after. Like a swarm of bees moving from one bush of flowers to the next. Eventually, we determined that they were fishermen, perhaps dropping lobster pots or nets. What other reason could there be for buzzing from place to place as they were?<\/p>\n\n\n

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Keeping a look out<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Our attention was grabbed shortly afterwards when, looking to the stern of the boat we could see Lanita was lower than she’d been before. Water splashing on the securely tied swim ladder, which was much closer to the water level than usual. Were we sinking?! Panic rushed through me. How far are we from shore? We haven’t serviced the lifeboat yet. How long have we got? I rushed down to check under floorboards and near the autopilot mechanics in the aft cabin. All clear. Then I checked through the middle of the boat, still all clear. Meanwhile, Miki had reduced the throttle. Lanita had levelled out. It seems we’d been on our way to planing, but the stern plowed into the water instead. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we neared Poole there was an inkling of wind, so we decided to take out the headsail. We boosted up to 10 kts! Flying along. Having made such good time we turned off the engine, wanting to have sailed at least part of the journey. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is an incredible peace that ripples through the air as the sound of the motor ceases. All that remains is the sound of the vessel coursing through the water, and the wind rushing past your ears.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Rounding Studland Bay, heading into Poole<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

After an hour of bliss, we brought down the sails and headed toward the entrance of Poole Harbour. It would be one of our biggest challenges to date. We knew we had the path of a chain ferry to cross; a large passenger ferry coming from the Channel Islands to avoid; shallow depths to weave our way around; plus many unpredictable pleasure crafts scattered across the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Entering Poole Harbour<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

I’ve never been very confident with traffic on the water. Never very confident with traffic of any kind in situations I’m still getting to grips with. With cars I fear the other driver isn’t paying attention, when I was learning to ski I hated feeling others close behind me on the slope. As I’ve been hit by a car, and also by people on skis, I feel these fears were definitely warranted. All this to say, I wasn’t looking forward to being close quarters with so many other vessels on the water!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We begin to make our way up the channel entrance easily, without much excitement – thankfully. Then there, in the distance, we think we see it coming. The ferry from the Channel Islands. Wait, no, that looks like a smaller boat. But we heard on the radio there’s been a pilot boat sent out to lead it into harbour. Maybe it’s behind us after all? The pilot boat comes zooming out and the boat we suspected was the ferry begins to pass us. It doesn’t take up all of the channel so it’s ok. Oh, but the pilot boat just flew right past that vessel. And, what’s that in the distance? A distinctly huge vessel, its pointy nosed silhouette looming closer every second. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the meantime, the chain ferry is up ahead. It crosses our path every ten minutes. We need to pass to the rear of it, not too close to ensure our propeller doesn’t get caught in the chain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sailboats, motor boats, jet skis flitting here and there. A long, slow, painful journey as we push against the outgoing tide. Misjudged. We’d thought that entering as the tide changed could ensure we weren’t pushed into the chain ferry. Instead, we have to fight our way in, Lanita’s motor pushed to the max, stern lapping the surface of the water. Past the chain ferry, sighs of relief. Now to look for the eastern cardinal marker, then the western cardinal, next the green buoy, and on. Harbour patrol pulls alongside \u201chave you seen the Voyager?\u201d, \u201cyes!\u201d I reply, thankful we’d done our homework and knew the Voyager was that 97m beast of a vessel getting closer by the second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, we see red buoy 18, the marker for our channel. Another pleasure boat passes by, the large ferry not yet here. Miki turns the helm and directs us across the main shipping channel toward a smaller channel that runs along the north side of an island. Grey clouds form overhead, bringing with them gusts and choppier water. Now we just had to spot our buoy, and avoid the too shallow areas either side\u2026 we found it! Me up front with the hooking stick. Still not very skilled in my technique or communication we end up on top of the buoy, Miki has no idea. My shouts had been lost in the wind. Luckily, the tide and wind push us back enough that I’m able to catch the rope, grab our first strop and attach it. We were safe!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We looked around, amazed, taking it all in. The Voyager arriving at the port to dock; the island – Brownsea – a huge splash of pine green right beside our home; Poole Town directly across the water; a flurry of birds in the sky. Heart rates dropped and exhaustion took hold, the adrenaline seeping away.\u00a0The next chapter had officially begun.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Relief… we’d made it!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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View of Brownsea Island from our mooring buoy<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And just like that, one year on, it was time to leave Portland and the safety of pontoon life behind. Time to leave faces that had become familiar and people that had grown accustomed to our presence. Albeit in a fleeting kind of way as we’d never exchanged much more than a brief hello with … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4156,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[338,316],"tags":[333,410,334],"class_list":["post-4124","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-boatlife","category-england","tag-boatlife","tag-portland","tag-sailing","latest_post"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4124","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4124"}],"version-history":[{"count":22,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4124\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4203,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4124\/revisions\/4203"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4156"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4124"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4124"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nickispen.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4124"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}