We giggled with relief after making it through the 30-minute shallow gauntlet that Texel harbor master Willem Oosterhaven had recommended.
Had we flung off our dock lines 15 minutes later, we could easily have run aground.
With two hours to go, we each wolfed down a hard-boiled egg and prepared our sails for the remaining stretch to Terschelling, a UNESCO World Heritage Site renowned for its tides, dunes, and bird life. Dark, heavy clouds crept up at our stern, but the 10-12 knot breeze was perfect for a close reach, and we enjoyed the gentle swell through which Star Mist gracefully sliced. It reminded me of gliding over baby moguls on a powdery white ski slope. “This is ‘gentlemen’s sailing,’”Gero remarked. In other words, the easy kind. Actually, a joy!
Our final challenge this morning would be to navigate into Terschelling harbor. “Don’t go directly straight in,” Willem had warned. In the ebbing tide, we had to sail past the marina about a mile to enter the serpentine, narrow channel.
As raindrops started to hit our jackets in a gentle shower, the wind strengthened in the open passage to the North Sea. Suddenly, heavy rain pelted us, sending water in streams down the boom and into the cockpit. Good news: we could see red and green markers in the fog. Bad news: the markers looked like a red and green forest! Where to enter? I was at the helm as Gero furled the genoa and dropped the mainsail as we powered up the engine.
“3.1 meters, 2.9!,” I called. We were once again in treacherous shallows. Worse, our plotter was showing the channel 500 meters to the west, and stating we were 180 degrees off course! Ugh.
“Follow the markers, hon!” Gero called as he wrestled the mainsail to the boom. “Forget the plotter! We have to trust our eyes!” I decided to cut over to the nearest green and red bouys, despite the scary depth readings.
“OK, we’re in!” I called, throttling up the Volvo as the 20-knot wind and rain slapped our faces. The channel snaked to port and starboard, like a slalom course. Star Mist heeled. I throttled back. Right, left.
“Watch the ferry!” We were in the narrow channel, which was busy with traffic.
“Just stay to the right, hon, we’ll be fine,” Gero reassured.
“All good!” I pretended. The shower turned into a drenching downpour. But we made it into the harbor channel, leaving the waves at our stern.
There is nothing like feeling the relief of the calm waters of a marina after the churn of rougher seas. Gero parked us smoothly into an empty berth as I jumped to the dock and tied the dripping spring line, then the stern. We checked in with the harbor master, leaving a puddle in the friendly common area. Peeling off our wet clothes back in our deck salon, we sipped lemon ginger tea and treated ourselves to big bowls of British yogurt. We laughed with relief. Seven hours after we threw off our bowlines in Texel, we were safely in Terschelling. The sun peaked out as if to welcome us. We were in the perfect spot to wait out the coming gale…🇳🇱🥂🍾❤️
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