On this beautiful hazy and sunny autumn day, I took my boat to Le Havre, and this time inside the port and the yacht marina. Once I had finished rigging, the boat could be rolled down a perfectly maintained and shallow-angled ramp to the water. There was just enough wind to sail the boat out of port, and I passed silently and at a stately pace in front of the rows of yachts of different types and sizes. The yacht marina of Le Havre is a very big one, and an owner can take his boat in and out of port at any time, as there is no lock.
From the marina, I sailed along the high port wall and left the port. The outing was quite uneventful, but the light on the cliffs to the north of Le Havre was glorious. The wind blew at a very gentle 10-12 knots, occasionally gusting at a couple more, enough to make me sit on the gunwale to balance the boat. On the way back to port, tacking upwind, there was a large number of school kids having sailing lessons (in France, there is no school on Wednesdays so that children can engage in sporting activities, music, catechism, etc.). It was quite an impressive sight. It was quite moving to see about ten small children in boats called the Optimist, all grouped around the instructor in his motor boat. They reminded me of kittens around the mother cat!
As I approached the port, I had to fight against a nasty current – and I had to watch out for ships. As I tacked to starboard, a very large cargo ship was coming out of port to put to sea. Those things move faster than you think! The Capitainerie boat ordered me to tack to port and keep out of the way. I couldn’t agree with him more. The size of a big ship’s propellers is staggering – and they make mincemeat of anything that gets too close! I tacked to starboard from being hove-to just in time to take the waves of the ship’s wake, even through she was going so slowly. I had to tack several times to get into port and back to the ramp at the marina.
This is the kind of huge container ship that often enters this port. The port entrance looks gigantic, but I found it quite narrow from the point of view of getting big enough tacks to get into port upwind. You have to look both ways to check there are no ships! The yacht marina can be seen to the left, and further to the left – out of the picture – is the dinghy launching ramp.
It’s an interesting experience and different from launching from a beach. The walls and the starboard and port lights look so huge from such a small boat as mine. This is one of the greatest ports of Europe.
The Blue Flower 
Father! Dinghy sailing in France in the middle of November? I thought your season was over. There must have been some factor that made the chill tolerable: a warm day? a wet suit? sheer insanity?!
I remember sailing a dinghy on Lake Suwa when I used to live in the Japan Alps. At approx. 35 degrees north latitude, the Japan Alps are situated further south than Normandy, but Lake Suwa lies at an elevation of 760 meters above sea level and freezes over in the winter. When I was young and foolhardy, I once launched my Yamaha Seahopper II and sailed the lake in November. It was exhilarating, but I don’t think I would do it again.
Probably a combination of all three, but above all a sunny day and a full wet suit. The coldest part was getting changed in my van!
Having read your post and seen the photograph, I have one thing to say: eek!
The only thing I can say about ships like that – keep well away!
But surely even moving very slowly, the draft that such a ship creates must cause difficulty for you at quite some distance.
I remember many years ago being out in a friend’s yach on the Channel. There was a VERY large ship coming straight at us. I rather nervously pointed it out to my friend who said not to worry about it. It kept coming, getting closer and closer, and I was getting more and more worried. Then it turned away. After I had calmed down, my friend pointed to the charts I had not realised that we were in a very shallow section, and the ship was following a deep shipping route. There was no way it could have reached us, but it was very alarming nonetheless.
Yes, they make big waves – you just head up to them and steer off slightly – and make sure you have enough speed (sails or engine) to keep your steerage. Alternatively, you can present your stern to the waves and enjoy a good surf!
One thing we have to remember is that a ship doing its job has right of way over anything else. There is one way to find out if you’re on a collision course with a ship – use a hand bearing compass:
Take two bearings on the ship separated by ten minutes to a half hour (assuming good visibility). If the bearing hasn’t changed, you’re on a collision course. You modify your course the most favourably to your sailing. You can resume your old course when the ship has passed the collision course, and repeated bearing takings are increasingly different.
Of course, in your scenario, I have had the same situation in the Seine Estuary. Shipping channels are always marked off by green starboard and red port buoys, so you know where the big ships can go, even without a chart.
Your comment also points to the fact that a skipper must be transparent and explain things to his crew and passengers, so they don’t think the skipper’s playing chicken!