Rewind to the previous morning and we had headed to Lyme Regis on the 4 a.m. ferry on a forecast that suggested a 35-knot sou’wester and sunny skies, but, instead, we had been on the receiving end of a 15-20 knot gusty mess with 100% cloud cover and misty rain. Well they say you can’t win them all, but this one was an absolutely miserable day, not to mention a 100 quid’s worth of fuel down the pan and a wasted journey. We did manage to squeeze in a bit of Christmas shopping in the quaint town of Lyme Regis, but that was hardly a reason for six hours in the van and zero action on the water. To make matters worse, I had to be home that evening to look after the kids, so we travelled all the way back to the Isle of Wight before setting out just after midnight on a concerted quest to recover from this wasted road trip. But now, here we are on the coast of the Gower Peninsula, another 4-hr. drive away, minus another tank of fuel, looking out at a thumping shore dump and a Welsh crew that all seem to have a screw loose as they rig up in the car park.