This post is dedicated to John, who after some thought, has booked a PSA blood test – well done John…
Having had a spot of inclement weather and being away visiting family for a weekend the level of autumn sailing was beginning to trail away with the season, so, with two days of good forecasts I made sure they were grabbed with open arms. I was itching to get afloat!
Christobel was other-wise engaged meeting pals and nattering over coffee … but she had enjoyed a sail out the week before.
Outside the creek, well, before reaching that point, the gentle yet harsh ‘craarks’ of Brent were heard, and in amongst the stands of cord grass a host of them were paddling about looking for grub. I’m always pleased to see these little geese feeding healthily on the areas abundant autumn gift – eel grass. When that has all been ‘scoffed’ they’ll be away inside the sea walls along under Hadleigh’s downs cropping the succulent tops of winter cereals. As if to taunt me, two grebe popped up over the shallows – I grabbed the camera … but before I could focus in, they’d gone under to search for food. Lovely little things … and their larger cousins will be around too, surely.
Upon leaving Smallgains Creek, I set a path towards Benfleet with intentions to turn at some undetermined point … it being set by the light levels.
So, whilst reaching towards Two Tree Island’s hard I came across a group of Essex Fire Brigade personnel carrying out an exercise – all very interesting. Leaving them behind and turning to head ‘westwards’ up Hadleigh Ray towards Benfleet, it was apparent that long and short tacks were needed.
Essex Fire Brigade in training…
Oh, it was such a glorious afternoon. The tide was a neap (5.3 m) but as I float at around 4.4 m, I had plenty of time and tide. Darkness would be my barrier (although for a passage, obviously not!). Above there were a few ‘puff-ball’ clouds like handfuls of cotton wool and some aircraft trails, but a blueness filled the rest. I was wearing a coat, but it was unzipped over late summer early autumn garb.
Bird Island
Passing Bird Island, the scene of several escapades by boats heading upstream to lay up, I watched open mouthed as a huge flock of brent, duck (Widgeon??) and waders took off. many just circled and came back, realising the red sailed apparition coasting by wasn’t a threat! I stood, feet apart, tiller held by my bottom and sent my good Mate a text … Christobel has always appreciated this, especially if over a lunch period when still teaching…
The mud level of Bird Island is rising. Passing recently, I realised it wasn’t properly covering until almost 5 m tide at Southend (as given by VTS). Surely, it can’t be long before the first sprouts of cord grass and glasswort appear after the spring neaps – the seeds of these plants need around 72 hours out of the tide to germinate and take root. The tide is well into the base of the cord grass in the marshes close by on Marks Marsh Island, and Two Tree Island further to the north.
Benfleet Creek’s wreck…
I was fairly clipping along, but after passing the gnarled posts of the abandoned Salvation Army wharf I felt the boat’s speed drop. The wind was fading. Some weeks ago the abandoned yacht sitting up on the mainland sea wall saltings ‘lost’ its mast – well it has come down, probably due to bits being taken, or vandalism. I have been somewhat surprised that the thing has been left. The higher tides move her around a bit and being GRP, she will not quietly fade in time. Responsibility: owner – unlikely for it would surely have been removed; PLA – possibly, but not a hazard; it is more likely to be Castle Point for it sits on ‘their’ land!
A shadow upon the land…
A long shadow was being cast along the bank of the seawall as I ghosted close to before tacking every now and then. The sun was rapidly falling … ‘how far should I go,’ I mused… It was more the dying breeze that made the decision. In amongst the buoys of Benfleet Yacht Club’s lower moorings, I turned and began to reach away eastward. In this direction the true blueness that pervaded above was accentuated by the setting sun.
A welcome mug of tea after making my turn…
Passing Two Tree Island, I took two photographs – towards the sun and away from it.
Towards the setting sun…
Away over Two Tree Island…
All around me flocks of birds were airborne. Several large gatherings of little egret sailed past high over the mast top, heading west up the creek towards rich pickings amongst the wide swath of saltings along the Canvey island side. A dark waft weaved around too – waders, dunlin and knot surely – dancing across the sky. A flight of small duck (wigeon?) flew fast and straight past the boat’s stern…
I watched enthralled by it all…
A waft of waders…
All too soon, I realised, I was nearing the entrance to Smallgains Creek. Time to set the fenders … a test reach showed that there was insufficient slant to reach home under sail … I dropped the sails and motor in astern of another intrepid sailor ‘Old Jack’ who has sailed these waters since a young boy in the late 1930s.
The sun was setting … it was time to head in.
Approaching the mooring…
Once moored, the boat was ‘stabled’ for the night: tomorrow, I promised her, She’d enjoy another little jaunt…
The moon reflected amongst stands of cord grass…
The next afternoon …
Christobel was otherwise engaged again, so, I beetled back down to Whimbrel in good time to get all set before the boat floated. Before that though I offered a hand to a small group looking at a bit of jetty damage caused by the club’s new work boat settling into her berth … she’s somewhat larger than the previous model and has let everyone know – breaking a post! They were okay and weren’t planning to do anything until the boat had floated, so I left them to it…
My view as I sat, mug of tea in hand, awaiting the tide…
While i waited for the tide I sanded a couple of bits of varnish that were looking for attention – a coat over with the finger tip would keep it good until the spring – and listed a couple of items for 2019’s work list…
Ah, the tide slowly rose. It was due to be a 5.0 m (Southend). I got away, all sail set, as soon as Whimbrel picked up, churning the water around in a muddy froth. The sails bit and we were away, the engine silenced…
I nipped forward to take this gorgeous shot…
This second sail was going to be shorter (But I still had nearly an and a half out) than the previous day, so I went ‘east’. If anything the sky was even more brilliant – why? Don’t know – atmospherics? Out in the open the only sound that pervaded apart from the occasional slating of a sail was ‘gulls’. The water had flocks of them resting, squawking at one another and others in an apparent snooze state.
Looking aft … I thought of all those seafarers of WW1 (especially) and since, who had perished in last centuries tragic carnage’s.
In memory of lost sailors…
I was on a reach. Far away I could see Chalkwell Station and the beach running to the Crowstone off Westcliff. Away over on the Leigh-on-Sea shore the sun kept reflecting on window after window as my and the sun’s position moved across the globe – small as my part was, it was fascinating.
Bright ‘eyes’ in Leigh…
The setting sun…
I turned before the sun actually hit the distant horizon and when I did I was captivated by the intensiveness of the colours that began to emanate around me. Astern, eastward, wafts of high cloud and jet vapours were going ‘purple’…
The estuary sky…
Entering the outer creek it was clear that the wind had stayed favourable … I continued onward, allowing the boat to sail herself whilst fenders were tied off …
Inside, the wind was faltering, as it does, but I had enough. It was just after high tide with no run as such. Every now and then the sails slatted, the jib especially as the land blanketed us … she had way enough…
Across the saltings curlews called now and then. Oyster catchers cried at one another and settled. Night was falling steadily. A chill too had grown, ‘surely the balmy days of this autumn will come crashing down soon,’ I thought … it has been a fantastic year for sailing (boating) in this corner of England.
Well inside…
Closing Whimbrel’s mooring…
… slipping in…
Boy I enjoyed that and was in a ‘singing’ state as I bagged up the jib and covered over the mainsail. As I left, I patted the ‘old’ girl and said, ‘… thank you…’ taking a wistful look back as I left her alone… When will the next sail be – with my mate Christobel, hopefully!
The two late afternoon sails were a piece of supreme autumn bliss, years down the line, I will remember them with a deep fondness.
A dead calm amongst the Island Yacht Club’s moorings…
Apparently, I arrived home with a BIG grin on my face – I wonder why!