Dunkirk to Guernsey

More concrete in Dunkirk. An exhibit at the modern art museum's sculpture garden.

Evidence of two world wars was more obvious in Dunkirk by what wasn’t there than what was. What wasn’t there: any building pre-dating 1950(ish). A short walk around the town center made it glaringly obvious that the whole town was bombed heavily over the course of two wars. No charming old stone buildings, no winding cobblestone streets, but rather block after block of mid 20th century concrete buildings. The modern architecture painted a much more vivid picture of the recent history of the town than any plaque, cemetery, or memorial could.

No classic French architecture perhaps, but at least they still sell baguettes in Dunkirk.

The day we arrived in Dunkirk we tapped into the cruiser/boater brain trust and secured legitimate French covid passes—proof of vaccination and exceedingly important because France requires them for entry into restaurants. Why go to France if you can’t eat the food?! When we checked into the marina, the very friendly and helpful harbour master pointed out an American boat in the harbor that had worked with a local pharmacist to input their American vaccine information into the French system in order to spit out a French covid pass. It also helped that the pharmacist kept his boat at the same marina where we were staying and boaters always like to help fellow boaters. Together with another American boat that arrived the same day, we hopped on the (free) city bus and rode across town to the pharmacy where the boater/pharmacist worked. We handed over our passports, he went into a back room for 20 minutes and returned with the documentation we needed. Cheers to that!

A valid covid pass is necessary for eating in restaurants in France.
Thank goodness we were able to secure ours!

Hans left the next morning bright and early to catch a train to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris and then flights to his job in Texas. The kids and I were on our own in Dunkirk for a week. Perfect opportunity to knock out a bunch of schoolwork. (Loud groans could be heard across the marina.) After morning schoolwork, we set out to explore the town. There was some shopping, mainly for food, two modern art museums (one industrial and the other more traditional), a big weekly market, and some geocaching. Matilda found her first geocache and she was understandably ecstatic. Overall, it was a pretty boring week and we were excited to have Hans back and continue south.

Classic. Within hours after Hans leaving, we have a medical issue on board. If you know me at all, you know that I am not good with blood. I took a deep breath and closed up the wound with steri-strips and Freja stopped hyperventilating after about two hours. I had a stiff drink.

One of the modern art museums in Dunkirk. Massive, industrial style modern art.

This artist wanted to create a universal language, similar to hieroglyphs.

And this exhibit is an ode to the common practice that transcends borders and time: hanging your laundry out to dry.

Gorgeous view of the north sea tho!

The costumes...

and the costumes used in a short video...

After we had our fill of totally random and incomprehensible modern art, we hit the beach!

Hans returned after a week or so and thankfully his emergency medicine training taught him not only how to save lives, but also to sleep on command, run on fumes, and be awake for hours, regardless of the time of day or night. We sailed out of Dunkirk the morning after he arrived back to PW, less than 12 hours after we met him at the train station. After plowing through a very sloppy harbour entrance, we pointed the bow SW with the goal of Guernsey. (Annual cheap diesel stop!)

Classic sloppy seas of the English Channel. Puke.

After a wave drenched the cockpit, I gave up and kept watch in the doghouse.

The sail was all downwind and fast. The current in the English Channel is notoriously strong, and the resulting waves have an even worse reputation. We were exceedingly lucky and had the current with us almost the whole time, but the seas were still sloppy with steep waves, random breakers, and quite a bit of surfing. Sometimes Freja writes in the log book:

19.15, Freja: We’re doomed! No land in sight (well, I can’t see any) and the waves are super big but we’re going down wind so as far as I can tell no one’s seasick (at least not me.)

You’ll be glad to know that we weren’t actually “doomed,” but the waves were indeed super big and I was seasick the whole time. At 20.32 we crossed over into the western hemisphere. Maybe not as exciting as crossing the equator, but I thought it was pretty cool when the GPS read: N50°11’200, W0°00’000.

We pulled up to the quarantine dock in Guernsey Harbour at 12.30 the next day, 29.5 hours total, 210 nautical miles, average speed 7.1 knots, approximately 10 hours motoring, 19.5 sailing

The covid protocol wasn't as extreme as last summer when they wouldn't let us be on the dock at the same time as anyone else. This year we just got to feel like lepers with a physical barrier separating us from the staff.