DAMACLE ROUNDS IRELAND 2026
It’s been three years since my first attempt to sail Damacle around Ireland, which I might yet – that first attempt – blog up. Deciding to go westabout that year, we quickly got as far as Kilrush, but a steady procession of depressions – deprocessions – prevented further progress, and at the end of that summer, Damacle defeated, returned to Cork. Another Cork Week and some personal medical inconveniences kept her harbour-bound in 2024 and 2025, but to quote George Harrison: “All Things must Pass”, “Here Comes the Sun”!
Click a chartlet to get to a particular passage.
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Cork to Bangor - July 2-5, 2026
Damacle by now had done two Cork Weeks of racing, but racy though she is, her purpose to me had always been cruising… under sail, quickly. So, when Cork Week came round again and berth were needed for visitors, and the weather looking good, it seemed the ideal moment to try Round Ireland again, but I had no crew organized. But then, suddenly and unexpectedly, Hagen, who had started the failed attempt back in 2023, found himself at a very loose end, and then, serendipitously, Chris, who had also sailed with us that first attempt, sent a Telegram, no a Signal, no a WhatsApp, that he could do a week, from July 6 onward, if the challenge was on. Well it was now!
So on Wednesday, July 1, Susan dropped me down to Crosshaven via CH Marine, where, pursuant a hint from Chris, I purchased a new 4-man liferaft (the old one that came with the boat in 2018 hadn’t been serviced since then in Malta), and a sharp rope-rigging-cutting knife, collecting Hagen along the way also, and then Hagen and I spent the day fixing a few leaks at bolts through the coach roof, and placing and securing the liferaft.
That evening, two of the Club’s young mairnéalach (translated from the Italian – marinaros) helped us take Damacle out of her temporary berth well inside the pontoons up against the walkway, onto the outside of one of the hammerheads. We went to sleep early and next morning at 06:45 (UTC + 1; ship’s time until further notice) we were away, aiming to get to Bangor by July 6, where we’d pick up Chris, who lives and keeps a boat up there in Coleraine on the Bann. We’d have to keep the pace up, but it was doable – the forecast was very fair; south westerlies, F3 touching 4. Sails were quickly up, engine off, and with the tide under us as we rounded Fort Camden, we were making 6kn over the ground (SOG) in a docile F2.
At 08:15 that had improved to 7.5kn in F3 as we passed Power Head, despite the ebb now being against us. By midday, the wind began to die away, and after a while it was time for diesel propulsion, to keep progress up now at about 5kn. By 15:00, the wind was back and the engine off. Under sail, SOG was now a more sedate 6kn including a bit of current as the tide had changed.
I’d thought to go as far as Kilmore Quay, where there is a small marina, for yachts, but also fishermen. I’d never been there, and it looked tight on the Navionics, so second-thoughts were had and we sailed on, heading now for St Margaret’s, an open bay halfway between Carnsore Point and Rosslare Harbour, leaving Connibeg and Barrels cardinal marks and the Saltees and the other dangers inside them, nicely to port.
It's a long way to Tipperary, but from Cork, Wexford is even further, so that at 19:00 there was still some way to go. Fortunately, but perhaps also worryingly with a view to the night, the wind picked up and soon we were ‘barrelling’ along at 7.5kn again with a bit of help from 1.5kn of tide sluicing us around the corner. Another hour and a half later, and with the wind fading, it was time to drop sails and anchor, and at 21:00 a pot of spaghetti and Ballymaloe Bolognese was served in the cockpit, where the life raft (NO STEP) was proving to be a handy side table. A can of probably the best beer in the world (acc. To Mads Mikkelsen) accompanied the repast and by 22:00 we were both fast asleep.
We’d gone to bed with the boat lolloping at the edge of uncomfortable on the swell refracting around the southern corner of the bay, with the stern slapping gently enough (but still slapping) against the waves, but in the morning all was calm.
After a good and leisurely breakfast, at 08:00 we were underway again, making 5kn at low revs thanks to a favourable tide, which however was going to turn against us later on. By 08:30 there was enough wind to maintain progress at 5kn under sail alone, downwind, at times with jib goose-winged out. By 09:30, speed over ground increased to 6.5kn, helping us to quickly cross and avoid the early morning ferry traffic out of Rosslare.
The sun was out (again), the seas were calm, the current was with us, and the speed was good as we weaved and gybed our way between the Lucifer Bank and the Barham Shoals into the Rush Channel. It’s all well buoyed by Cardinal and Channel Marks; nevertheless, where in the World would we be without satellite navigation and electronic charts – we’d have to consult the stars and The Admiralty, I suppose.
At 13:00, the wind had picked up further, and with a favourable tide under us still, we were now progressing at 8.5kn over the ground. To stay inside (and not cross) the Arklow Bank (easily recognized by the bare pylons of its decommissioned windfarm) we had to change gybe, but sensible sailors that Hagen and I are, we opted to wear Damacle round. Phew, not easy at all, and it’s a lot more wind (F5?) when you go head-to-wind in it. We staggered through it, having some difficulty bearing away. We were going to have to repeat the manoeuvre several more times, hmm.
By the time for our third wear-around, Wicklow Head was abeam of us; the tide had changed and the wind piped up a little further (F5+). Wind over tide and 10m depth under the keel was creating a short, steep, confused following sea, which Damacle was surfing down at 10kn through the water for 7.5kn progress across the ground. ‘Fasht’ as Hagen calls it (borrowing from the O’Donovan brothers’ rowing strategy), but that’s what the wear-around was going to have to be, as well. I spun her hard, and bore off hard, and yep, it was the best turn yet.
And on we surfed, reaching Greystones impressive marina, which, with its very substantial piers and five-story apartment blocks, from a distance gives (me, anyway) the impression of a heavily-barracked Napoleonic garrison port, by 19:00. Fortunately, the wind had backed a bit to the west, and was refracting and attenuating across the mountain barrier behind the harbour, making Hagen’s job of dropping and gathering the mainsail as we aprroached doable, just about.
The previous day we’d covered 81nm in 14 hours for an average VMC (velocity made good to course) of 5.8kn. To this we had now added a further 62nm in 11 hours, which despite the excitement along the Wicklow coast actually gave us a slightly slower 5.6kn VMC. Great progress nevertheless and engine barely used (4 hours maybe). The gauge doesn’t work, so we were concerned and very pleased to find Greystones had a very accessible 24-hour fuelling dock. Ten litres was all she took – guess the tank must have been pressed full on leaving Crosshaven!
Conceived back in early 2008, at the very top of Ireland's money-no-object 'Celtic Tiger' boom, Greystones' breakwaters were built to withstand a 1-in-2,000 year storm, so its website tells us. If I remember rightly, the design of commercial offshore structures are to a 1-in-100 year rule. That same year, the 'Celtic Tiger' collapsed, and, although it took its great champion, Greystones’ councillor and ex-Fireball sailor Derek Mitchell (aside: who kindly lent his Rondar Fireball to Finn Lyden and I for the Europeans in Dun Laoghaire back in 1981), many more years to bring the ambitious development to an acceptable completion, by 2010 the new harbour walls and roundheads stood and in theory with a good chance for 2,000 years!
It's very quiet and sheltered then inside this state-of-the-art marina. Nevertheless, on Friday morning, when we awoke, faint whistling noises through the rigging persuaded us that yesterday’s strong south easterlies were still about and we resolved we’d put in a reef as soon as we were out and still under the shelter of the Wicklow mountains, which proved slightly illusory – strongly gusting downdrafts making working at mast no sinecure for Hagen, notwithstanding the flat water. Hagen, who is truly the ultimate engineer, but doesn’t get to Dublin much, as quite astounded to see there was a railway running along the dividing line between cliffs and sea. Yep, that’s the DART, I said, and yes, you’re right, it’s a bit heavy on maintenance costs, and since there’s only passengers living to one side of it, not really very practical, but on a sunny day, sure you could think you were in Italy or Switzerland, if only the sea wasn’t so grey.
By 10:00 we were thundering across Dublin Bay in a brisk F4 and once again busily avoiding ferries. By 11:45 we were passing inside Lambay Island doing 9kn over the ground. By 12:00, with the wind moderating slightly, we passed Rockabill and started to wonder where our next harbour for the night should be.
We’d dismissed Carlingford, as the marina there really is a very long way in, and the navigation channel narrow. I’d liked the idea of Ardglass, with a little marina tucked in barely a mile from the Co Down coast, halfway between Newcastle and Strangford town, but nobody was picking up the phone, and it did look a bit tight on the chart, which left Portaferry opposite Strangford at the top of the narrows into Strangford Lough. The marina superintendent in Greystones has recommended it, and his counterpart in Portaferry picked up the phone, so we had a berth.
We bore off a bit and shook out the reef. By 15:30, we were flying again doing 8kn. The kicker broke (there’s a purchase missing from the cascade of pulley block, so it’s 16:1 instead of 32:1 and the Dyneema line snapped) but we lashed it up whatever-which-way and it barely slowed us down. By 19:00, we were at the mouth of the narrows into the Lough and were soon trying to stem some very strong currents in very disturbed, breaking intervals. Of course I should have paid more attention to the cruising instructions and checked the tides, and I can’t blame either marina-man in Greystones nor Portaferry for not giving me a ‘wee’ heads-up, but still.
We furled the jib and booted up the engine. Speed dropped to 4kn, but after a while we exited the disturbed patch, where to my consternation, the current against us increased, swirling around in beautiful, calm whirlpools. We rang the man in Portaferry again to say we didn’t think we’d better till 20:00 and where should we berth – it looked tiny on the chart. He said it’ll take ye a ‘wee’ bit longer than that. I’ll try to be there to take a line, but I can’t promise.
So we gunned the engine and tried to stick as close in under the eastern shore as we could. Getting 8kn of speed through the water, at times progress over the ground reduced to 1kn, but every now and then we’d find a little back-eddy and we’d shoot forward. All a bit tense!
Now, a place isn’t called Portaferry if there isn’t a ferry, and at 20:30 it was still crossing regularly to and from Strangford, and although the river (I think I’ll call it) was a little wider here, I sailed well upstream of it, before taking down the main, to then drop down on the current and tight around the outer floating pontoon, avoiding the town beach, and into the very handy berth where my man was waiting for us.
In Greystones we had paid a reasonable €50 for the berth plus an unreasonable €5 for shore power; here it was £32 all-in. I’ll bet though that Greystones has difficulty breaking even, unless of course if much of the financing has been written-off, whereas Portaferry probably earns a few pennies, cash-only, for providing maybe 50 berths on four bottom-chained pontoons, one loo and one shower.
Ah well, such are the contrasts of life, and then I thought perhaps the two harbours do have something in common – the Fireball Class. And sure enough, the layout and fixating of the Portaferry pontoon were by Adrian Bell, Fireball Ieland’s multiple National Champion, and as mentioned already the great champion of the Greystones Harbour development had been his and my contemporary, Derek Mitchell.
Having got the tide all wrong coming up the river (they call it the narrows, I’ve learned, I was determined to not leave into a flooding tide, which meant we’d have to leave around 09:00 which obviously was not a problem.
After breakfast (Hagen: munchies and milk, Me: granola and yoghurt), we quickly checked the engine coolant. The previous evening, Hagen, after its two hours of exertion at 2500 revs, had thought to do the same, as he (excellent engineer that he is) had noticed heavier exhaust smoke than normal, which he thought had to be water vapour. He’d been right! Badly low, we’d dipped it up, and we’d have to watch it constantly. But at least, it hadn’t lost any fluid overnight.
We hoisted main, and with no wind and keeping the engine running lightly, whooshed out to sea on the swirling current at 9kn. We added jib as soon as we were across the overfalls at the mouth of the river/narrows and killed the engine. A light F2 off the land gave us pleasant sailing, but with the tide against us, progress was slow at 4kn.
But the wind picked up, the current changed, and we were back on 8kn as we approached Donaghadee Sound by now close-hauled. It was 14:30 on Sunday, August 5 and we were on the wind for the first time since leaving Crosshaven Thursday 06:00. A few tacks later, sails down, engine on and we were safely berthed deep inside Bangor’s very fine marina. It was 16:30 and we had covered 260nm of the 940nm that were going to take us around Ireland, two-handed in four days. Good job, Hagen!
Bangor to Westport - July 6-11, 2026
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Westport to Cork - July 12-20, 2026
