Between coming home from our summer cruising and the beginning of September, I took my oldest brother (‘home’ from Canada for a few weeks) and my sister away for a flying trip up to Pin Mill and back – but that’s another story.
So, after we had seen ‘big bro’ off to the airport, my wife and I went away for a few days together – we often do this at this time of the year – the ‘going back to school’ period – and it is a great to be away, especially for the Mate: she was a school teacher, in her past life! We departed from our moorings on Canvey Island with a light easterly breeze and soon found we needed some assistance from our diesel out in the Thames fairway to ‘crack’ the last of the flood. Once heading in a southerly direction round and across the Grain flats, Whimbrel’s sails were spread and we wafted over the young ebb on a gathering sea breeze.
Running into the Medway over a rippled sparkling surface…
Christobel, having had a trick at the helm, left me to it, feeding me tea as and when, reading and completing the Times ‘junior’ crossword. Her forte is the word square!
Relaxed sailing…
With such a nice breeze on a sunny afternoon I thought about running on up to Upnor, but we decided to continue to plan and anchor somewhere in Stangate. Ultimately we dropped the hook in Funton Creek – a nice little spot.
During the latter part of the afternoon I pottered off in the dinghy for a walk along the tidal shore of Chetney Island. I’d spotted bricks and some crumbling brickwork from the boat, albeit seen before, and wanted an updated look. The island was briefly used as a quarantine station in the late 1800s, however, it proved to be as uneffective as ‘marooning people aboard ships: it was damp and the air was alive with mosquitoes! The expensive buildings were abandoned within a year. Whether or not these remains are part of the hospital, I currently do not know.
Loose bricks and masonry chunks on Chetney’s beach.
I have heard through a contact that a survey of the island was due to be carried out to record what was left behind after the debacle … it’ll filter my way at some point, surely! Whilst walking the tide line I came across a chunk of ‘barge’. It had clearly come from the aft end of the spritsail barge Westmoreland which has resided in a lighter up Lower Halstow Creek for a few years. The lighter sank last year and the barge’s aft end ‘floated away’ leaving a trail of debris scattered around the neighbourhood. Her transom and stern frame are out there somewhere…
Section of covering board and transom knee from starboard quarter of the Westmoreland.
It was a glorious evening in the creek. The mud flats and shell ‘humps’ that fill over half of the creek at low water were alive with waders and serenaded our pre-supper tipples … later serenading us to sleep.
The sunset seemed to mark a weather change…
We awoke to a grey day with little in the way of a breeze. It wasn’t cold, but a decided chill was apparent for the first time for many weeks. Various little jobs were attended to as well as periods of reading. I also had a sail up into Bedlams Bottom until I ran out of water. It is surprising how far one can get even towards low water.
Another boat had been in the anchorage when we’d arrived and she quietly left during the morning. At the foot of Stangate a flotilla of craft arrived one by one and all moored to one anchored yacht. It was a group from the Gillingham Cruising Club. It was some raft up … but after lunch time, as the tide began to seriously make, all departed … a ‘boys’ day out!
Whimbrel from the dinghy on that grey day…
Later in the afternoon it brightened and as we’d planned to move anchorage to Sharfleet, we did this via a sail up into Lower Halstow. After grounding on the last leg towards the dock we turned and sailed away … fetching up along the mud edge under the southern shore of Burntwick Island- in the bay. A big yacht followed us in. The helm seemingly glared as ‘he’ passed, did a couple of circuits, before motoring away. ‘What was that all about?’ I said to my Mate. I was left wondering if we’d just anchored in ‘their’ charted spot…
On the way into Lower Halstow, I took a few pictures of the Westmoreland, now dried out again after around six months of twice daily soakings. Her hull is now mud coloured… What’s to happen to her: perhaps it is time to lay her to rest as no funding has been found to support a rebuild – the last of the specifically built brickies…
The sad looking Westmoreland in her floating dock…
And into Lower Halstow…
We ‘enjoyed’ a dose of rain overnight and it was still drizzling when we needed to set off for home. So, for only the second time this ‘summer’ we donned oilies, however it soon brightened into a reasonably pleasant day.
Christobel mans the helm whilst I make coffee…
Whilst waiting for the tide and clearing the boat up, a sailing canoe came wafting up the Ray in the stiffish breeze manned by two chaps. One was sitting out and moving to the gusts … and they reminded me of the joys of mid-week sailing as a member of the retired community. We had seen several dozed craft over our few days – it was great. So many people say, ‘Oh the weather was bad … we’ve had bags of wind this year…’ (have we??) or, ‘… I couldn’t be bothered…’ I wonder sometimes…
A sailing canoe reveling in the conditions…
Our next sail was to be a group sail of three Finesse 24’s from the Island Yacht Club. Unfortunately, one skipper got himself a very nasty chest infection resulting in a course of antibiotics, so the group was reduced to two boat – no matter we were intent on a good time, weather permitting. It had been windy leading up to the weekend and another period showed late on the Sunday … we had to be home for Sunday as Christobel was due for a visit to our local eye hospital for a cataract to be removed, so all plans revolved round that need.
Being able to break clear of our moorings earlier than the other boat, we waited awhile and departed virtually together. There was a bit of a breeze, probably more than stated, but Whimbrel reveled under working sail. The other Finesse 24 was Calluna of Dorset. The cutter rigged Calluna only set her staysail forward too and we roped across the Thames more or less keeping station. For some reason, after hardening to sail directly across the Grain flats inside the Grain Tower, Calluna fell astern … even though we as usual had out dinghy, Twitch, pacifically trundling along astern.
Calluna sets sail astern of Whimbrel…
Over ‘The Grain’ towards Queenborough with a bone in her teeth…
It was a grand sail and had we left when first afloat we’d have arrived on high water, however the tide was still flowing south as we moored to an arranged mooring buoy. No sooner had we got our fenders out and Calluna slipped alongside … just in time to share our pot of tea. Calluna’s mate quickly dished out some delightful tea bread, homemade of course!
Tea finished, drinks were served aboard Whimbrel, and with offerings from our friends we had a happy 3/4 of an hour … the boatman came twice for us. I think it had something to do with my mate: she’d dished him up a scone stuffed with berry jam when dealing with fees … he said he’d only come to check and natter and sit against too ladies. Hmmmmmm!
Finesse…
Eventually we went ashore … with me looking fondly back… Picture – Rob Hardy
Now, some while ago Christobel and I had a dire meal at the Flying Dutchman, however, it was decided amongst us that we would try again for their fish and chips have been good. In the event only one of us had the fried variety – we had skate – another had a ‘burger’ disk. All was good, but I remain unconvinced.
P.S. I have to say (Paul, out in New Zealand) I did ‘force’ (it was no effort) all and sundry into the Admiral’s Arm where a good pint was enjoyed, well two actually. Yes, and a pickled egg dropped into a bag of crisps…
Following our relatively early return to the boats, we all sat around Whimbrel’s cockpit drinking coffee and sipping some sloe gin which had a lovely bouquet, courtesy of Calluna’s crew.
Sunrise on Saturday…
The forecast for Sunday had had winds of force 6+, but initially the strong stuff was for Sunday evening, nicely placed for our trip, however the period moved into Sunday morning so it was decided to head home whilst it remained good. Shame: Conyer had been the plan… I think my companion sailors were a little disappointing, as I was … but a hospital appointment can’t be missed!
On the Saturday morning while Whimbrel was being tidied after breakfast, I slipped away for a turn around the harbour in Twitch. It provided an enjoyable interlude before preparing for our departures. The wind direction across the boats dictated that we slipped first. We dropped off and I soon had the mainsail hoisted, then Genoa – we were away. Calluna soon followed.
Two fair ladies resting in Queenborough…
The breeze was quite light initially, but soon began to increase – again beyond the stated forecast – and Whimbrel had about as much sail pressure as was needed. We hit 7 knots closing Southend Pier…
The buoy known as ‘Leigh’ at the entrance to the Ray Channel was moved about 200 metres to the east recently – this has caused a few boats to run aground when they thought their ‘normal’ approach was still good. We had to slip in a couple of tacks (before tacking all way up to Smallgains Creek) to get through the narrow bit. This, incidentally is by a non-existent buoy marked on my GPS! The channel is out exactly the width of the blue shown, being to the north. There is a hump of sand which has a sharp rise from several metres and can be clearly seen if sailing close … ah the joys eh!
Tacking up the Ray Channel, on a good fetch at the point photographed … beyond seal
We anchored off our creek and had a light snack for a good breakfast had been enjoyed that morning. Soon after berthing Calluna came in too, nosing into her berth … a short but lovely little outing. It was good to get out with fellow Finesse owners. Thanks Rob & Barbara, from us both. We missed you Gypsy! Next June we will have another go at getting two owners who have never been to Conyer.
A view looking into ‘wooden boat corner’ from the edge of what was named as ‘Canvey Heights’ some years ago when a ‘tip’ was made into a park space.
The two jaunts were full of contrast and it is that recipe which makes up the magical joys of estuary sailing…