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.

Season’s greetings to all…

A friend up the road in Daws Heath sent me a young fir tree to haul aloft. Chap, John, used to grow trees but has long since ceased, but his land is ‘loaded’ with various trees and saplings. He likes the idea of a tree going afloat.

Whimbrel taken by a fellow Finesse 24 owner, Rob Hardy. Thanks Rob!

And, here is the young tree from the cockpit – many thanks John.

Whimbrel’s festive cheer.

Whatever your interests, may we wish you all a gloriously happy Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year. God Bless.

The autumn hasn’t been the best for getting out. When the weather has been ‘fit’ the tide has been out, but after a cold period with snow and ice on the run up to the Christmas period all has been calm…

My good Mate has been busy sitting round cosy fires and hot jugs of coffee getting round her myriad of friends for a last chat before the family festivities begin. P.S. We’re having a quiet one to ourselves, and, I hope, a bit of sailing!

Yesterday dawned bright and sunny with a little frost to remind one of the season, so after a customary ‘hike’ around our local woods – good for the soul and waist! – I high-tailed it down to the boat. The colours across the saltings were wonderful after many dull wintery days of drabness. The tide was rushing in so delay wasn’t an option. Covers were hauled off, folded and stowed. The jib (I felt best) was shoved out of the fore hatch.

It wasn’t long before I was ready. Whimbrel shivered as she rose from her muddy mould and floated clear of the putty. A burst of power and we were gliding clear, Brents barking and skittering close under the saltings.

Gliding out of Smallgains Creek…

Where to I thought, discussing the options in my mind. I’d not been up to the Benfleet Barrier for sometime, so that was the route decided upon, especially as there appeared to be a slant in the north-westerly coming off the downs. So in brilliant sunshine and an all-around blue, silvering as the sky met the distant horizons, I sat back to enjoy a leisurely sail westwards with the tide. Clearing the creek a little grebe popped up close by. They’re quick little critters and it was soon madly flapping its wings as it beat a retreat, before diving for elevenses, again…

Reaching through the moorings in Hadleigh Ray.

Far away in the distance the low sun lit up the myriad of ‘silver’ masts as if a many candled Christmas cake, blotting the dark heights many miles beyond. Around the boat the sun coloured the winter saltings grasses golden. Away, on the downs, all was dark for autumnal leaves had lost the will to hang on with frozen snow encrusting them… Walkers, cyclists and runners passed by, in both directions, upon the sea wall top. Whilst below, the whine of electric trains ran by out of sight.

The Island’s other yacht club, ‘The Benfleet’, in the distance.

I enjoyed several long fetches and needed but three tacks to reach the other yacht club’s moorings. The wind here can be ‘funny’ and a spot of deliberate tide drift helped reduce the tacks needed to work through.

I went forward to take this shot, leaving the ‘old girl’ to fend for herself…

I spied two of the Benfleet Finesse 24s. One was out of the water and the other was still afloat, but looking lonely … there are two others, the whereabouts of one, I’m lacking knowledge. It would be great to see them move… Reaching the floating pontoon belonging to the Dauntless Yard, I turned the boat, spinning as if on a sixpence, pinning the headsail back until round. All was quiet ashore – I only saw one human being moving slowly along the shore.

Leaving ‘The Benfleet’ astern…

The cold was beginning to seep a little as I sailed lazily over the still incoming flood. A mug of soup and my lunch of Ryvita crackers, cheese & tomatoes helped stem that push! It wasn’t long before I was aware of thoughts of stowing sail and preparing fenders. The mains’l was stowed and with fenders ready to push over-board, the boat stemmed the fresh ebb into Smallgains. I was going to sail in, but the low sun made for difficult visibility. Off my berth I downed the jib and started the diesel…

Into Smallgains…

I should have persisted with the jib: standing on the jetty, down the sun, was my mooring neighbour and owner of the Finesse 24, Gypsy. This kind fellow held the boat as I moored and we chatted…

It was great!

Then there was today! Last night’s forecast talked of thick freezing fog and a deep frost. Wonderful. But, my trusty xcweather indicated otherwise. There was hope.

I awoke to a sparkling day, prodded the Mate who was going to be otherwise engaged, and said, ‘I’ll be sailing later…’ As if she couldn’t work that one out!

During our morning walk we met a friend – the one who gives me chunks of Christmas tree – and he has promised a length shortly… Wonderful: I do love a traditional look to the boat.

Later, after sorting my lunch tucker, I hi-tailed to the creek. Ah, it looked glorious.

A festive goose across to the Southend shore…

It was a bit nippy even though the sun shone. The weather girl had said, ‘…and temperature, between 0 and 6 degrees…’ Well there was a covering of frost upon the foredeck as I’d prepared the boat. So, it being time for a coffee, I realised the walking flask was in my coat pocket – a little libation found its way into the mug. Mmmmm, delicious, especially with a mince pie…

In went a noggin…

Having reached across to around the Crowstone along the Westcliffe shore, I turned and began tacking towards Leigh (Bell Wharf area). The sea front was busy with dog walkers exercising their pooches where in kinder months parents similarly treat their offspring. The Essex YC was passed by and I eventually reached close by ‘The Leigh’. Here I felt it time to head back across to Canvey Point…

‘The Essex’.

The Leigh-on-Sea shore from the Leigh-on-Sea SC past the billet, cockle sheds, Beltonway Boat Club and Lower Thames Marine.

I enjoyed a flask of hot homemade soup as I jostled across the Leigh Flats toward Canvey Point. I’d left some in a pan upon the stove at home for the Mate to enjoy too … and as if to reinforce that, my phone buzzed … Christobel, arriving home from one appointment with a pal, wanted to say ‘thank you…’ How sweet!

The sun glistened water was thick with Brents along the edges of Two Tree Island. It won’t be long before they’ll have scavenged the eel grass from the flats and then they’ll crop the sprouting winter wheat tops – apparently causing no harm to the crops.

All sail set on the final approach to Smallgains … between the posts!

Reaching the point, sail was stowed, the trusty diesel started and in we went. On the approach to my mooring some Brents lifted off whilst others just watched from the security of the purslane edge. Beyond, there were whistles of some small duck which I couldn’t see. Peewits called and a lone curlew loosed off its familiar cry…

My face glowed. My heart has been gladdened and my soul enriched. Yes, it has been a fabulous couple of days.

A little packet dropped through my letter box yesterday, during a day trip up to Greenwich to see the special exhibition about Franklin’s North-west Passage debacle 170 years ago… Anyway, it was a nice gesture of the BBC.

Good picture eh!

The Mate and I have watched the programme through again – rather good overall. I was a little ‘narked’ about one little thing – a lack of credit. I thought this was to be placed at end. Hey ho – must insist next time!

The programme can still be found on iplayer. When I next see my ‘foreign’ family and friends, Graham A & Paul M, I’ll lend or screen as desired…

I do not have any sailing exploits to report on for the weather has essentially been base. I am hopeful of a couple of tide sails this coming week – I’m beginning to twitch!

Bye for now.

For some while now the May Flower’s bob stick has been hanging on an old boot lace lashed to a central heating pipe in the corner of my study (cum put-me-up), gathering dust… It occurred to me that it could have a better use.

May Flower’s bob stick, with topmast ring and acorn…

So, to release my good Mate Christobel from needless dusting (Her duty: I’ hoover’…) I dropped the Sea-change Sailing Trust a line and offered them these relics, which in all probability were the fittings on the May Flower’s  topmast when she was crossing tacks with the Blue Mermaid near the West Hook Middle (Before buoy was moved recently) on 9th July 1941. The Blue Mermaid being a steel barge set off a magnetic mine. Apparently the vessel was lifted clear of the water and when she came down, there was nothing to see… The May Flower sailed back over to the spot to find only flotsam. Her crew perished.

The upshot is that the SCST now have these bits and Jim Dines is certain that the ring and acorn will adorn the new barge’s topmast…

While delivering the item, I met the Economic Development Officer for Maldon Town Council, Heidi Turnbull, who was enjoying a talk with Richard Titchener about the trust’s work and how the new vessel would be integrated into their core work.

Outside was the barge’s bowsprit and windlass which has been retrieved from the sailing barge Ena at her last berth within the Hoo barge graveyard.

Windlass carcass being de-rusted in preparation for a fresh use…

Close by was the bowsprit heel pivot assembly…

I then went aboard the Blue Mermaid which is sitting in Heritage Marine’s floating dock where all sorts of works are ongoing.

Heidi Turnbull with Richard in the cargo hold…

Mizzen sprit and mainsail setting boom…

View looking aft – new leeboard crab winches offered into place.

Windlass bitts in place…

Main mast case ready for finishing…

It was a pleasing visit to this very worthwhile cause: when the barge is completed the charity will be able to continue working all year round, afloat…

Check out the trust at: http://www.seachangesailingtrust.org.uk

Christobel is currently knitting a further batch of wooly hats for people on trips who forget theirs!

My Mate Christobel knitting hats – anyone can help…

Essex Book Festival 2018

Some while ago I was asked by the chair of the Essex Book Festival to participate in the 2018 programme – silly to say no!

Nick Ardley is honoured to be participating in the 2018 Essex Book Festival.

This event is probably the most prestigious of any in the eastern part of England, attracting quality, serious writers.

I will be talking about Rochester to Richmond: A Thames Estuary Sailor’s View, read some extracts and answer questions.

Venue: Canvey Island Library

Tuesday 20^th March 2018 @ 1930

Price: currently unknown (c. £5 to £10)

Tickets: Mercury Theatre, Colchester, Tel: 01206 573948

www.mercurytheatre.co.uk

Canvey Island Library from January 4^th 2018 

What the publisher said:

• A book for lovers of sailing amongst salt, marsh and mud.
• A passage not made within the pages of a book since the 1920s.
• Beautifully illustrated with modern images from the water interspersed with old prints.
• Rochester to Richmond is of love and enthusiasm for an unknown side of the River Thames.

Blurb:

People say that Nick Ardley is an eccentric, an anachronism from a simpler age, for the way he sails his clinker sloop around the Thames estuary, wending amongst the tide-riddled marshes to drop anchor where the fancy takes him. In Rochester to Richmond: A Thames Estuary Sailor’s View, Ardley has a clear plan: a reflective journey between Rochester and London, a path once of commerce, but now pleasure. Rochester was of immense importance to Britain’s past trading richness too. The belching chimneys pouring acrid fumes and cement dust have evaporated. Oil refineries have slipped away, but wharves lining the banks remain alive. As a distraction, he wanders a little above Rochester and then again, a little above the Pool of London towards Richmond. Between, he lands amongst the marsh and mud, finding graves and farmsteads enveloped in purslane and lavender. Many towns sailed past were part of this heritage, supplying building materials and food carried by the tan-sailed barge to London. Ardley dips and dabbles into these communities and explores how they have transformed.

Books will be available at the event.

https://essexbookfestival.org.uk/booking-details/

www.nickardley.com

For information I shall be at the Salty Dogs Gallery in Maldon on the evening of Thursday 30th November to message and sign copies of my latest book, Rochester to Richmond: A Thames Estuary Sailor’s View.

Salty Dogs Christmas Show (Gallery) is located at No. 11 Market Hill, Maldon, Essex. CM9 4PZ.

It would be great to see you…