We couldn’t come to Dartmouth without visiting Dittisham (or “Ditsum” as locals fondly refer to it). Just two miles upstream, this tiny village on the banks of the River Dart couldn’t be in greater contrast to the hustle and bustle of tourist hotspots Dartmouth and Kingswear, so if it’s peace and tranquility you’re after, take a leaf out of Agatha Christie’s book and make for Dittisham. The canny crime writer snapped up the stunning Greenway estate in the 1930s, and it’s now run by the National Trust for all to enjoy. We’d last visited this idyllic spot in October 2022 and ended up staying several days while we waited for a weather window to cross Lyme Bay; it hadn’t been a hardship.

After gathering a few kew provisions from Dartmouth’s excellent emporiums, we headed up the river in search of a vacant mooring. Happily, we were in luck and were soon secured to a visitor’s mooring buoy midway between the FBI pub (a key Dittisham attraction!) and Greenway. Visitor moorings are marked with a V, and cannot be booked in advance; there are only 18 swinging moorings, but the Harbour Master does allow rafting for up to two boats per buoy (check size restrictions). You’ll need to pay harbour dues as well as mooring fees of roughly £0.95/metre/day each (at the time of writing).

Much to our chagrin, we mistimed our visit completely, as the Ferry Boat Inn doesn’t serve food on a Monday or Tuesday night. Their stoneground pizzas alone are worth the trip to Dittisham (I like the Poirot, although the Miss Marple pizza is a good option for veggie diners), and I would urge you to also sample their skinny fries with Parmesan, truffle oil and homemade aioli. But it didn’t feel too much of a compromise to eat on board Exeat when the views all around are this good.

As dusk fell, we nipped over to Greenway (deserted this late in the evening, though they normally charge a nominal landing fee) and walked through its leafy grounds before returning to Exeat as a glorious sunset lit up the already beautiful surroundings with a rose-gold filter.

Rounding the Bill – the narrow promontory on Dorset’s southernmost tip that “is notably dangerous because of its shallow reefs and ledges, such as the Portland Ledge, the Shambles sandbank to the south-east, and the Portland Race, a tidal race caused by the clashing of tides, and further exacerbated by the reduced depth over the Portland Ledge*” always gives sailors pause for thought. One never quite knows what sea state “Bill” will oversee – however carefully you plan your passage. As it was Springs, we were especially apprehensive since tides would be bigger than usual and this already treacherous tidal race could well be in thoroughly feisty mode. We set off from Weymouth with a few other boats, all hoping to have timed our journey right. Safety in numbers and all that…

In the end, we needn’t have fretted, and sailed past Portland Bill in the calmest of conditions (having taken the inner passage). If I didn’t know better I’d wonder what all the fuss was about. But I can still vividly remember our passage last May when the sea state was far more dramatic, wholly illustrating the respect that this shoreline commands (and why so many boats ended up shipwrecked on these rocks before the lighthouse was built in 1906).

Once we’d rounded the Bill and begun our sail across Lyme Bay, what wind there had been dropped to the lightest of breaths so we ended up motor-sailing for more of the 40 mile distance than we’d have liked. On the plus side, we had uninterrupted blue skies and sunshine, so it wasn’t too hard to endure. In the late afternoon, just as our spirits were starting to flag, a trio of dolphins swung by to show off their skilful aquabatics, diving through the waves Exeat made ploughing through the water.

Eventually Dartmouth shimmered on the horizon…although it always seems to take an age to actually reach land after first sighting it from the Bay. Two hours later, we were passing Dartmouth Castle, the handsome landmark guarding the entrance to the harbour, and fortuitously slipped into a vacant berth at a walk-ashore pontoon. While I took our patient yorkiepoo Buddy for a run in the nearby park, Skipper turned chef and fired up the barbecue for some much-needed sustenance – and a toast to reaching Devon!

*quoted from The Encyclopaedia of Portland

Finally, we were sailing out of the Solent and on our way west! The sun shone radiantly for most of the trip to Weymouth, but the wind conditions were not quite so kind. Even with the spinnaker up as we crossed Christchurch Bay, the wind was too light to cover any real distance, and we were forced to motorsail for a spell. Once we’d rounded St Alban’s Head, the wind filled in and we flew into Weymouth (where it had been blowing a hoolie most of the day apparently!)

Weymouth itself was remarkably busy and we were all rafted three abreast in the outer harbour. I don’t remember Weymouth ever being so packed on previous visits (although admittedly the last time we’d stopped was in October, so not exactly prime cruising time, and prior to that was just after Covid when rafting was not allowed). The town itself was just as busy as the harbour, with visitors thronging the sunlit streets. As we looked around we saw one possible reason: a vast piratical-looking Spanish galleon was docked just ahead of us, attracting crowds on board to explore this authentic replica of a 17th Century Spanish trading ship.

We chose to dodge the crowds and spent the evening on board our own galleon, cooking up some crab linguine with fresh Portland crab from the harbourside fishmongers Weyfish. Rockfish owner Mitch Tonks’ recipe from his seafood bible Fresh is a flavoursome combo of crab meat, cherry tomatoes, shallots, pine nuts, garlic and lemon juice stirred into a tangle of pasta. If you’re tempted to try it out check his online variation here

Documented ~2500 nm in total. Will sent uppon request

Leaving Cowes a few weeks later than planned (after various delays to the boat upgrades), our eventual exit on Friday was somewhat tame. With the wind and tide both stacked against our journey west, there seemed little point in trying to get too far that evening, so we accepted the dismal sailing conditions and motored along the coastline to nearby Newtown Creek. We may not have gone far, but we were at last on our way!

And it’s always a delight to visit Newtown, whatever the conditions. This National Trust nature reserve is a haven to sailors, sea birds and seals, and as we entered the shelter of Clamerkin Lake, we were welcomed with a golden sunset, chorus of birdsong, and aura of tranquility.

Happy to have begun our summer adventures afloat, we toasted the moment with a refreshing Dark & Stormy, grateful that the dark and stormy rainclouds from earlier that day had now dispersed to grant us a stunning evening at anchor.