In September 2016 the Grain power station chimney tumbled in a huge ball of dust and 2018 was the final year for the chimney upriver at Kingsnorth to come down. The ‘tumbling’ was delayed due to a bout of heavy snow some two weeks ago, but even after another lesser dumping, all was ready…

So, on Wednesday last (21st) I abandoned my good Mate: she decided to enjoy the comforts of an ’empty marital bed’ rather than a snug thick duvet aboard Whimbrel, and sailed over to Queenborough on the afternoon tide.

Kingsnorth’s doomed tower from by the West Leigh Middle in Sea Reach of the London River…

From a sparkling Sea Reach, the chimney stood, erect and proud, dwarfing the skyline against a blue sky. It looked purposeful even though it was essentially a piece of ‘Victorian’ engineering built in a modern age during a burst of electrical generating needs and to ‘prop up’ Britain’s ailing coal industry – other countries went nuclear. We began a programme and then stepped aside allowing other countries to steel a march on our expertise… Hey ho!

There was a sparkling west-nor’ westerly and I made a grand passage over towards Grain, cutting well inside the tower to gain some ‘westing’ to compensate for the tide, which was on the turn.

Queenborough bound across the Grain…

It wasn’t long before the Queenborough Spit buoy was passed by. I called the harbour for mooring instructions – still before four, but nil response. So, resorting to time honoured tradition I picked up the most convenient mooring near to the landing…

Queenborough in my sights…

As soon as I got moored, I sent a text to my Mate for she’d implored me to do so. Bless! With my crew missing, I had to make my own tea! That drunk I prepared my supper, a pasta sauce with added pork sausage and vegetables. This was left to soak while I later went ashore to sample the ‘nectar’ in the Admiral’s Arms…

Whimbrel’s first sunset in Queenborough of 2018.

Kingsnorth chimney’s last hurrah…

Later that evening whilst enjoying a wee libation with my coffee, I gazed upriver, westwards, at the lights of the chimney warning aircraft of its existence. Reflected across the water those lights were ‘saluted’ by a ‘waving’ crescent moon, as if sickle about to cut ‘her’ down, on the gently heaving waters of the West Swale.

On Thursday morning (22nd March) I awoke to grey skies. BBC Essex presenters kept burbling about a nice day ahead so, after enjoying a bacon roll, I set off under engine. Aboard another boat planning to head upriver, no movement was detected. Later, with around 45 minutes to go I heard a call on Medway VTS … I chuckled for I knew there would be a little hiatus aboard!

Rounding Sharpness I set sail and tacked boldly upriver, outstripping a motoring yacht. With around fifteen minutes to go, I was dawdling about off the old coal jetty.

A view never to be seen again…

Getting into a position in clear water I fevered the sails to jog along gently and set the camera ready … I had to make adjustments to avoid a ‘drift’ towards the southern mud … a burst of engine and with distance gained, I returned to jogging along. Just in time!

The first ‘puff’ just below half way up…

I heard a ‘phut’…

Then a ‘bang’…

Going, going, going…

Well, she be gone…

The dust ball rose upwards before setting off downwind towards the east and a few anchored vessels which began to scarper…

Over went the helm and I ran off down river, homebound.

Coming round … keeping the camera on the ‘spot’…

As I sailed away, I lamented, that again in a short space of time the river’s views have been altered in a dramatic way. I felt a tinge of sadness: the Medway is an interesting river with all of its varied views – industries, population centres and open wild wastes – and the views I’ve known since a youngster have gone. But have they: the ‘base’ picture hasn’t greatly altered…

The talk I am giving about my book, Rochester to Richmond: A Thames Estuary Sailor’s View, at Canvey Island Library is fast approaching. Tickets have been selling well this last few weeks but seats are still available…

Library display…

I visited the venue this afternoon and the organiser is extremely happy with numbers so far and is really looking forward to the event. She also said that tickets will be available on the door too.

See: https://essexbookfestival.org.uk/event/nick-Ardley/

Briefly: Tuesday 20th March at 1930. (Do not use Sainsbury’s car park – it closes at 2000) Tickets – see link for box office. Also from Canvey Island and Haleigh libraries.

Display of my output over last decade or so…

Latest book will be available.

It would be great to see you.

Some while ago an invitation to attend the preview day of the annual exhibition of paintings by the Wapping Group of Artists. The date was duly put in the diary. It is amazing how these things race up on you – like the approach of our fortieth wedding anniversary which seemed an age away but is now but a few weeks away!

I shall not burble on, but place a series of pictures for you to enjoy – click on them to get a better picture…

There was a separate exhibition of pastels which we went round first, being a little early!

These pictures of the Exe estuary by Michael Norman caught my eye…

Some of the pastels were stunning. Christobel just loved a deep blue picture of sea and sky – out of our bracket though!

A group by John Walsom – top, Island Gardens; left, Isleworth at low tide; right, St Osyth, high tide.

Now, we have long admired works by artist Alan Runagall, who is a fan of one of the Wapping Greats – Vic Ellis. We missed out on one of his hangings some years ago. Visitors may notice a fresh view when visiting next…

A selection of Alan’s works on display … left to right –  (a moody) Kings Reach, West Mersea, Below Waterloo Bridge, Old Jetty Woolwich, Bell Wharf – Leigh-on-Sea.

Close up of, Thames traffic, Kings Reach, by Alan Runagall…

The Lady Jean at St Osyth by Trevor Chamberlain.

A picture of the Strood foreshore by Derek Daniels.

The picture above resonated through my bones: it was the dark painted line beside the blue boat by jetty. I spoke to the artist … the picture was started some years ago. On a return visit last summer on one of the groups ‘away days’ he took the unfinished work along. Of course, all is now different. Beyond the boat are rows of new housing around the Strood Dock entrance, largely filled in now too. In the foreground the boats have gone, as to has the thin dark line and boat ‘upon’ it.

That thin dark line is the remnant of the spritsail barge May Flower’s broken up hull cut away to the level of her chine keelsons… Those remnants were grubbed up some years ago now. But, out in the mud, I am certain her burnt stern frame knee and rudder foot remain. The artist was fascinated to hear the story!

Canoists at Richmond – John Stillman.

Group by John Bryce…

A view across to Rochester Castle by John Killens.

Hollow Shore by Robin Mackervoy caught my eye.

Hollow Shore is a part of the world known by foot and water. I could see, in my minds eye, Whimbrel creeping up on the fresh flood with a light northerly filling her jib…

These are but a few of what we had the pleasure of viewing. If you are interested, the exhibition is running for a further week until 10 March 2018.

See: www.wappinggroupofartists.co.uk

See also Mall Galleries: https://www.mallgalleries.org.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/wapping-group-artists-london-river

Dick Durham has been around a bit. He learnt the craft of the swatchways in his childhood, dabbled amongst old barges with various friends and even sailed aboard my sailing home, the spritsail barge May Flower, in his early teens.

Dick was the last trading sailing barge mate. After signing off of the spritsail barge Cambria when Bob Roberts sold her to the National Historic Ships Trust, he worked with a sail training organisation until settling down to college life to study journalism. Some years were spent as a Fleet Street ‘Hack’ in the dying days of that street’s many famous news outlets. Dick finally pitched up in the offices of Yachting Monthly where he spent a goodly number of years heading various sections before retiring, in a fashion, a few seasons ago.

Along the way Dick has written biographies about Maurice Griffiths, Bob Roberts and the Royal Sussex Yacht Club (A History). He has also written a ‘follow up’ to Swin, Swale and Swatchway, by H. Lewis Jones, called On & Offshore. There was also a collaborative east coast book with others.

But, Dick has made a departure for a new landfall: a novel.

Dick’s latest literary work is a novel: A Tide for Drowning.

The book is published by Amazon. ISBN 978-1-5207-7962-1

On a Saturday work party down at the Island Yacht Club, Dick mentioned his new book to me … I was intrigued, so I took the plunge – always good to help a fellow sailing author, or any for that matter…

The book is a crime story. It’s not so much a ‘Who done it’ but a ‘Why done it’…

Following in my good wife’s wake I have built up a liking for some types of crime fiction – usually of the older variety – those by people such as, Allingham, Sayers, James et al – and more recently have dipped into Tey… Christobel is an avid reader of all these works and more by other authors, not being afraid to give a stranger a go!

So, after reading the blurb, I dived in. I was hooked.

A woman has been ‘strung up’ on an estuary beacon. The tides are neaps, they’re soon to begin rising. She has six days to contemplate death … out at sea, yet not at sea: at low water all is dry.

I was soon drawn into a web of circumstances weaving a network of people into an interconnected tragedy.

Hervey is the main character, but doesn’t appear until later.

After the initial horror, the tale is set by a racy climatic liaison between two lusting women. One, the ‘bored’ housewife of a rich city cad, the other, a high flying banker’s PR executive. They met at an Alzheimer’s charity dinner at the mansion House … a threesome evolves, hubby wants both. They move onto a club … the wife walking to her car, is kidnapped.

We’re back at her ‘murder’ and meet Hervey. Earlier events are related and we ‘sail’ with him out into the estuary, with a previous victim…

The rich city type is in the same lodge as the ‘Police Chief’. A DI and his ‘side kick’ Dippy Daud, a refugee girl from Somalia who overcame prejudice to breeze through Hendon and become a Detective, are put on the case.

Characters are met and discarded but all have or had a bearing on Hervey’s life. He had a fraught and troubled childhood, an abusive father from a traveller’s background. Hervey inherits a run-down boatyard. His mum is in a home in her own Alzheimer’s fuelled world. Mum believes the ‘Germans’ have invaded … her captors, her carers. She gets hurt. The home, part of a group, is owned by the husband. Son is angry…

I felt some sympathy for Hervey, with childhood memories burning within. But, he is bent on retribution in the form of Calvary. Three have to die … the first was a bullying school teacher he re-met in salacious circumstances.

I’ve a deep love for the Essex ‘bad lands’ and the creek riddled marshes of the Essex Archipelago, which form the heart of this tale, and purred happily for they’re richly described to perfection by a man who knows his stuff. They’re Hervey’s territory too. And, here, Dippy comes into her own, drawing on childhood experiences of fishing the treacherous sand banked peppered Somali coast with her deceased father: she’s a competent boat handler. She understands tides and mud. She leads her ‘dippy’ DI…

For me, I feel that Dick is either Dippy or Hervey, parallels abound-.

The tale approaches a climax.

It’s a race against the tide … has it beaten them? Has its inexorable deed been done…

Wow. A grand read. A sound story and a deadly dose of suspense to set your mind abuzz.

I read late one night. It made me restless … I didn’t do it twice!

My favourite character has to be Dippy, a hero, without a doubt.

Any more Dick?

Dippy and the refugees…

Dippy catches her man…

At the moment I am railing somewhat at the dastardly weather we’re enduring. We’ve not had a huge amount of rain, but there has been enough dampness, surely. What we have had this winter are bucket loads of wind, which have also slotted perfectly into the days when tides have been useful. It has been cold over the estuary too, with ice, frosts and snow. I went down to the boat on a bitterly cold day, my hands froze inside thermal gloves. I looked at the poor girl and abandoned her to the biting wind…

The tide’s are good next week for a spot of sailing, so, with pleasant thoughts in mind I took a peek at the seven day lottery from the met office. Hmmm!

I shouldn’t have got my hopes up: every day for the Thames estuary there are winds in excess of 30 mph forecasted. There is a window … but I’ve yet to check tide times. Wonderful!

During January, a month when I’m usually afloat anything up to half a dozen times, I managed two sails. They were pleasant. One with my dear wife aboard (She likes to be called The Mate, in boating terms…) and another alone. I feel a deep gloom beginning to settle over me.

Returning towards home after a pleasant sail in light winds and glorious sunshine…

I haven’t dropped into thoughts of ‘boat wrapping’ and shutting down for the winter yet, but…

On the odd day I have been able to do a little maintenance around the boat – servicing the toilet for instance. Re-bedding rigging U-bolts (I’ve been troubled by ‘rusting’ from stainless along plate edges. Lift the bolts and they’re ‘clean’ under. Now trying different bedding compounds … they were ‘rust’ free for 30 odd years!) and other odd jobs.

Close by me a chap has beavered away all autumn and winter fixing more to his boat. He’s not a sailor, but fairly new to the game. I detect a little overload of ‘what ifs’ hanging in the air and becoming realities. I subscribe much to what I call the ‘PBO Syndrome’ – PBP being, Practical Boat Owner as espoused by that august publication. Nothing wrong with it, but…

A boat has to be a balance between use and what needs doing to it for sea worthiness. Much can, in all honesty, be neglected waiting for that moment, however there are things that must and should be done. The latter, I will never neglect… People tell me that our little Whimbrel is in fine fettle – they don’t see the things I see. That as it may, she’s kept in a pretty good condition overall and my Mate and I are proud of her.

As I write, I remember that the decks need a sanding and a good paint this coming spring. Ah, ‘Mrs Mate’ will love getting out the course sanding paper and, of course, there’s her most favoured job, antifouling…

Christobel antifouling, her favoured occupation…

There are a number of craft up for sale in our little end of Canvey Island, as there are everywhere one looks. Is it a dearth of boaters? Is it the fact that buying new from the start is what people want? Or, is it the fact that many of us sailors are aging? And here I shall expand: that flush of ‘baby-boomers’ who got into boating as spare funds became available are now selling vessels owned for years. I am sure this is part of what we’re now seeing.

Some of these craft look tired and a little neglected, but, with a pressure wash, polish and a little loving touches are transformed.

Other craft are sitting pristinely awaiting a new owner. The owner has already purchased his or her new love and devotion is split, usually erring towards ‘the fresh one out of the box’. In dribs and drabs a trickle of ‘teasers’ come for a look-see, chatter about plans and go away, never to be seen again.

This fine cutter, owned by Dick Durham, is SERIOUSLY for sale. See earlier blog during 2017.

http://nickardley.com/dick-durhams-wendy-may-comes-up-for-sale-in-ditch-crawlers-patch/

The pictured craft, Wendy May. She is afloat at the Island Yacht Club, ready to go…

Personally, I have only ever sold one vessel, having only ever owned two. The second boat has been enjoyed for 35 years now and long may she and her crew continue that partnership. In fact, she, Whimbrel, has been our joint  ‘second love’ for most of our forty beautiful years of marriage… Bless you darling.

Meanwhile the ‘old love’ gains a patina of forlornness or as sometimes is the case, old craft are left ‘rotting’ on a mooring. This in many respects is worse, on the pocket, than laying up and forgetting. But, sometimes, it can be the cheaper option. Finally, when the owner has passed away to the Elysian Sea, children who are themselves approaching the age of retirement find that ‘dad’ didn’t actually sell when you thought he had and you’re left with a hefty bill and a ‘wreck’ to deal with…

This poor old girl sat for years in a boat yard being weathered into a ruin. Inside her varnish work was good. She’s since been broken up – a tragedy. Parts were sold to reimburse the yard of some of its dues…

Recently, the London Boat Show was held at the EXCEL Centre in London’s old Royal Docks. A news item caught my ear on the run up to the event’s opening. The ‘MD’ of a swish boat building company was extolling his company’s products – good for them – but these were in the upper end of the market. However, overall it was all about new, new, new. The piece left me with a bit of a loathing for this market: yes there are new boats to be had, but surely these are for the experienced boater who has cut his or her teeth on older craft. There was no mention of the burgeoning number of craft in the second hand market…

Remember, if you’re selling, consider the market. Look at it. What are similar boats being tagged at. Be sensible. Consider the costs of keeping a boat, unused. Buyers, be serious. Go in with an offer: soon you’ll both surely agree a figure.

As a rule I don’t attend boat shows: unless you’re after a bargain in respect to equipment, they’re for dreamers. I liken it to the hosts of people who wander around window shopping as a day out … waste of b- time!

Oh yes, that reminds me, time wasters are prevalent around the water-side too…

Although we lived on Canvey Island for some 23 years we had never walked ‘out west’. It was until recent times open farm land – grazing in the main – but a few years ago the RSPB got their hands on a section. A scrape or two has been made to create shallow freshwater pools for birds. Paths have been laid, friendly for wheel chairs and the like, and signs erected etc…

Finding the info for the site, I worked out a round route taking in the reserve, sea wall along East Haven Creek, Holehaven and across the old Occidental site where there is a bug reserve. So, on a rather cold and windy day clearly unfit for sailing, we set off with a picnic and a flask of soup!

A slightly crumpled map of Canvey West RSPB Reserve.

The RSPB car park is free of charge – a good start. Setting off to pass close by where a farm once sat, Pantile Farm, where there is said to be some remnants, we walked quickly along the ‘sweet’ hard and smooth finished surfaces. Reaching the site of the farm, nothing was observed to be ‘remnants’, but a viewing platform sat alongside a ‘scrape’. Not a single bird was using the area! Leaving, we ignored round routes, and reached the sea wall. We had seen one bird, a gull, which squawked a wheeled above a group of walkers with dogs…

Looking back across the RSPB reserve.

The tide was on the ebb. In fact the creek was emptying fast. I gazed upon a stretch of water and mud I’d never before set eyes upon. It struck me as being rather narrow and I wondered, aloud to the Mate, about whether or not that it would, in fact, close off one day  – probably near the sharp turn by the A130 road bridge, away in the distance in the plate below.

Looking north up East Haven Creek.

I wondered too about my father sailing round here in his father’s last boat Lynette, a 24′ (roughly) Bermudian cutter. Christobel asked if this was where the once a year dinghy ‘race’ took place. Well, obviously! It is something run by the Island’s sailing clubs and one can row or sail, or both…

Shortly after beginning to trek southwards a huge flock of lapwings (peewits) took off from the saltings opposite us in a massed cloud of dark lazily flapping wings. Their cries were clearly audible, against the wind in our ears. Along the creek’s banks, other waders were feeding, clearly taking advantage of the freshly tide washed mud.

Stopping briefly where a piece of land sat within two sea walls, indicating a growth in ‘inning’ many years ago, I spotted what looked like refuse type surface on a patch of saltings that clearly sat above the areas around.

Old Wharf remnants?

Wandering over the area, the surface had chalk and broken pottery within it. I could not discern any remnants of post tops or the like, or in which way the wharf ‘ran’ i.e. along the creek’s run or at 90 degrees as found in many places. Northwick farm sat a little further inland and a map produced by the local historical group showed nothing to that farm’s north.

Later, at home, I carried out some research and found old maps showing a wharf, where found, and a farm – Tree Farm. The farm appears to have been disused by the time of WW2.

Section of OS map of West Canvey and Area from 1913 – National Library of Scotland. (Apologies for quality…)

The dock I am discussing is at the top of the plate. It ran in at 90 degrees to the creek’s run – this was common on various maps over the period of around 100 years. Clearly it belonged to Tree Farm. Interestingly there was once a small settlement on the Pitsea side – called East Haven, with a wharf. This will be under the huge pile of rubbish that fills Pitsea Marsh!

We stopped by East Haven barrier for our picnic, using a flat concrete wall for a perch. Sadly, others had too: their rubbish lay strewn about…

Leaving, we moved onwards but by then bordering Holehaven Creek. I looked up towards Pitsea Barrier, a place I’ve a hankering to pass through under sail! The creek is nicely posted by a series of port hand buoys: tugs and compacted waste barges come this way. Out on the water and along the mud edges a menagerie of bird life fed and ‘chattered’, ignoring our distant intrusion. There seemed to be a lot of small duck too … so different to the so called reserve!

A view up over Fobbing Horse (lower), Pitsea barrier and to the rhs, East Haven creek’s juncture with its barrier.

Beyond, in the distance, was what was clearly a derelict wharf. It wasn’t shown on the current OS map, or the historical sheet… The wharf lay upstream of where a farm settlement once sat – Westwick – I later found. It sat west of Northwick Farm (still active), whilst Westwick was to the south-west, level with the northern tip of the Upper Horse. The wharf was marked on the old maps I found and once seemed to have had a tram way linking it to Northwick.

Looking down Holehaven Creek past old wharf with Holehaven upper horse in distance.

Inland of the derelict wharf the land had been infilled to a level far above where the high tide line was on the outside. Something to look into!

A strange landscape wit chunks of concrete protrude from the rough grass and bushes, met our eyes…

It was chilly, but the sun eventually came out giving some pleasant warmth out of the wind. After passing a more recent disused wharf, once part of the Occidental Site (A disused and unbuilt refinery from the 1950s), we made our way inland through the old tank farm layouts and road system of the unbuilt refinery. Here, various forms of bug life have been found. It is home to the Carder Bee too. The land was reclaimed with Thames silt and it is thought that this provided the base for a unique habitat. It has become a SSSI – Canvey Wick Nature reserve. It seemed to be mostly ‘peopled’ by dog walkers with various levels of leavings, bagged or otherwise … something that is so common!

Canvey Wick Reserve notice board.

The car was soon reached … but did we enjoy the walk?

The Mate said, ‘Apart from finding the old wharves and strange infilled land … it was boring and full of nothing…’

I have to agree – although I enjoyed seeing where my father, with his friends, and my grandfather once sailed. many years ago, told about in Mudlarking, I described an occasion my father put his dad’s boat up on the mud some way west of Benfleet Bridge. he and his mates had to dig her out. A picture tells a thousand words!

On the way over the Benfleet bridge, I mused upon my father and grandfather sailing through the old opening bridge … a bridge I have rather vague memories of.

Grandfather’s converted whaler, Goblin, about to pass down through the original lift/rolling bridge in late 1940s.

Such a crying shame a lifting bridge wasn’t built as a replacement…

Last Friday my Mate and I trundled up to London Town to visit the Tate and take in a play (Lady Windermere’s Fan at the Adelphi – good!). We enjoyed a bit of the illuminated art too.

The Tate has, currently, an exhibition about ‘The Impressionists in London’ detailing some of the varied works of art these artists painted whilst exiled from France during and after the Franco-Prussian wars. It should be noted that some of the artists were conscripted and witnessed the horrors of the insurrection that followed France’s defeat. Some paintings from that period were also on display…

Tate Britain on Millbank, London.

The exhibition has a time to run yet.

See: http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/ey-exhibition-impressionists-london

Impressionists in London guide – Courtesy of Tate Britain.

There were two bits that caused me to bridle. Both revolve around incorrect terminology within the maritime environment and pure ignorance, which is unnecessary at this level: the art world curators must have the ability to ask a question of say, the maritime Museum…

One of the impressionists featured was Monet (Surprise, surprise!). Some of his series of the Houses of Parliament in various levels of mist, fog and smog were in one section. These are lovely pictures. Within the mistiness of the art work, the level of detail is awesome. But when reading the information plates, I was staggered: the exhibition curators managed to be so very wrong about the river craft depicted.

The Houses of Parliament in Fog by Monet – one of a series. Courtesy of Wikipedia.org

Now, for anyone who knows what they’re looking at it is easy, yet, surely, other members of the general public viewing these pictures have a right to be given correct information so that they too know… The curators for this exhibition described the two vessels as ‘yawls’.

Drawing from Edgar J. March’s book, ‘Spritsail Barges of the Thames and Medway’, clearly showing what a bridge sail looked like.

The vessels are clearly spritsail barges with gear down and river sails set. The lowered mast, almost to deck, can be seen and were clearly seen by Monet otherwise he wouldn’t have painted them: impressionists painted what they saw, not what they thought they could see, or knew was there… Even the more distant spritsail barge has a discernible lowered mast.

A barge with bridge sails approaching Cannon Street Bridge – 1884 – from Frank Carr’s book, ‘Sailing Barges’.

These two pictures from readily available material or from the national Maritime Museum clearly show what a barge bridge sail looked like. The ‘March’ sketch, in particular, could have been a model for the artist’s work.

Now, I have NEVER heard of a Thames sailing barge being described as a ‘yawl’. She could, in perfection terms, be described as a ‘ketch,. Yawl, never!

The last section of the exhibition looked at the movement’s works as the time flipped into the early years of the 1900s. One of the younger members was Andre Derain. His work has a modernistic bent, with bold colour with scant fine detail which some could describe as ‘child-like’. These were evocative, all the same.

As I stood in front of a painting – Barges on Thames, Cannon Street Bridge, 1906 – I seethed. I was bemused with the description given in the info plate. A man on a what is a Thames lighter, one of two beside a spritsail barge, was stated to be ‘a man on a boat…’

Now, in the maritime world, a boat is a particular vessel. A car ferry is a ferry, a oil tanker is a tanker, a spritsail barge is a barge, and a Thames lighter is a lighter …

I walked out, feeling disgusted by such inadequate knowledge in what is supposedly a knowledgeable and educated sphere…

Obtaining a copy seems to be ‘difficult’, so the actual painting can be seen here:

https://www.reproduction-gallery.com/oil-painting/1177382248/barges-on-the-thames-cannon-steet-bridge-1906-by-andre-derain/

Apart from my ‘little’ gripes, we both thoroughly enjoyed the exhibition … moving on to take in some of the delights within the gallery itself: we’d not visited for quite some time…

Ah yes, it’s been a lousy start to the year around the Thames estuary. We’ve enjoyed bucketful’s of wind and Whimbrel has sat in lonely ‘silence’ awaiting her day. Last year we were out on day one!

Last year (2017) had been one of the best sailing year’s we can remember. The boat was in use on 115 days, not a record by far, but she covered 1070 nautical miles, which is thought to be the most the old girl’s done in a year.

Any way, the Mate and I spent Saturday morning ‘slaving’ with our club’s work party, during which I watched a sluggish tide come and go. It was only a 5m and there wasn’t a lot of wind … but we gained a few ‘brownie’ points.

Sunday dawned grey, but dry with a gentle breeze. On the way to the creek, looking eastwards, the dawn sun was just creeping under the layer of low cloud.

Walking to the boat, Kent was bathed in a golden glow…

Kent glowed ‘gold’…

Reaching Whimbrel, covers were soon stripped off. The genoa bag was heaved through the fore hatch by Christobel before she got our bacon under the grill. It wasn’t long before both bacon and boat were readied.

Boat and breakfast ready…

The tide seemed to take an age to rise. During neaps there is an advantage: the tide takes equally as long to ebb. In the event we had three hours out sailing by the time we returned.

Eventually, with an audible sigh from the centre plate case, Whimbrel rose and was afloat in its gloopy mud hole. A burst astern and she glided into the run of the tide. Whilst the Mate helmed I soon had the mainsail set and we motor-sailed out of the creek. Passing a motor boat, an ex Northern Lights tender, we were hailed and saluted by the boats kindly owner.

I noticed something unusual. It was unusually quiet around the saltings and tide edges. Brent were conspicuous by their absence and the normal cries that generally emanated from the purslane and cord grass were missing. Perhaps it was too early!

Headsail set, Christobel comes aft…

Clearing the inner creek the Mate set the genoa and I began to tack lazily eastwards, drinking the last of my coffee.

After a little while, astern of us, another boat was seen to motor out. She set a head sail and motor-sailed close by – for a short natter – before stowing sail and motoring away to the east towards Southend Pier. Beyond the pier, the sky was perceptibly lightening up.

Tacking eastwards…

Out on the Thames highway there was a steady stream of shipping heading inbound and outbound. There were two motor boats about and a lone paddle boarder, other than those we were essentially alone.

A happy skipper…

Closing the shore east of Chalkwell Station the whines and yaps of dogs could be heard: they have the run of the beaches during the seasons either side of summer… There were an unusual number of people treading the familiar ‘cinder’ path along the front between Leigh and Chalkwell (It isn’t made of cinders any more but the name has stuck…).

Awaking from a reverie, we turned westwards to ‘salute’ the ‘Essex’ and ‘Leigh’ clubs. All appeared quiet…

Christobel having a trick at the helm, calling, ‘don’t take my picture…’.

On the way back out towards the Ray Channel, the thin cloud was finally pieced by the sun. It streaked across the water and its warmth was immediately apparent. The Mate had got chilled … silly girl! Earlier, whilst running a bit of film I’d caught her humming and singing quietly whilst jigging about. ‘It was because I was cold,’ she said, grimacing a little.

The sun pierced the cloud…

The sky all of a sudden became blue above and the line crept rapidly westwards so that we were sailing towards a blued sky. The mate opened her arms and soaked the sunshine … more in hope than the warmth it had, yet it could be felt. I must admit, even I had begun to feel the chilliness…

Astern a blue sky opened up and enveloped us…

The tide was on the ebb and had been for a little while. It was time to organise fenders and stow the mainsail. This activity enlivened my slightly numbed toes. With the sun, the breeze seemed to ebb too, and we crept slowly into the creek.

Astern, all was blue and the sun lit the tan genoa…

Approaching Smallgains Creek’s entrance I spotted a fellow boat owner standing in the well of his ‘fishing sloop’ taking pictures. he saluted us. We returned in a ‘silly’ manner, feeling exceedingly happy. Along the saltings edges there were a few Brent about, but the saltings themselves had a quietness that was strange.

Whimbrel creeping into Smallgains… Picture: Simon Lawrence.

The Mate had gone forward in readiness to drop the genoa. I called, softly, ‘Leave it … we’ll sail in…’ I did start the engine, just in case!

Gliding across tide we slid gently alongside our mooring finger and came to as stop. Grand.

Bagging and covering sails I wondered quietly whether or not there weren’t a just a few other local sailors who’d wished they’d grabbed the opportunity too.

We were glad of it…

The 2018 Essex Book Festival brochure is now out on the streets.

I have been booked for an event at Canvey Island Library for Tuesday 20th March at 1930.

See details on link: https://essexbookfestival.org.uk/event/nick-ardley/

Love to see some of my ‘readers’ at the event…

The New Year is already passing by, but unlike last January when there were more quiet days, we’ve enjoyed a ‘bit of a blow’ across the country. Very heavy further north, but into the 60 mph zone along the Thames. To say the least, any thoughts of a sail on any tide this last week has been out of the question.

Looking back to January 2nd 2017 I find there are some lovely pictures of a quiet sail. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting as I cleared away and made for home…

Here are two from that sail:

Coming back down Hadleigh Ray with marshes along the island’s northern shore to starboard…

A tranquil sunset a year ago…

The weather will return to some normality, surely, but until then memories must suffice!

Happy New Year to all.