During the early summer a film was released about ‘Wind, Tide and Oar’ by a film maker and ‘ardent’ supporters of the non use of propulsive power in the boat’s belly.

The mate and I attended one of numerous showings of the film aboard the Sea-change Sailing Trust’s barge, Blue Mermaid, which had received a grant to take the film to a host of east coast ports for public screening. The ports ranged from Lowestoft to Ramsgate, the allowable trading limits of the Blue Mermaid.

The Blue Mermaid is a new spritsail barge which has gained a 110 tonne cargo carriage certificate. Unfortunately, finding such loads has proved difficult but numerous smaller cargoes gave been carried, using wind and tide alone.

Now, as many will know, the diesel under Whimbrel’s cockpit floor is used as little as possible. If a passage can be safely made under sail alone, that is way it is done. During the summer period, we covered 700 nautical miles and I purchased a mere 30 litres of fuel. We traversed the Thames to St Katharine Docks twice, sailing most of those miles. Unfortunately, there were a couple of long passage trips where the engine was called into use.

It is the same too for departures. From an anchorage and mooring buoys especially, and a marina berth too if it is feasible without causing a hazard to others. The same is true for arrivals.

During last year a meet took place between vessels and people who followed the principle of engine-less sailing. The event was based around Pin Mill with sailing at the heart. Among a group of traditional yachts and one in particular more modern, two spritsail barges took part, EDME and Blue Mermaid. The film has footage of the goings on.

The film discusses the pros and cons of engine-less sailing, but something is missing, I thought, because the basics of the process of getting under way from say a buoy/anchor wasn’t covered, neither was a Marina entry/departure – the be all mooring for many ‘normal’ sailors.

Larger craft are more likely to anchor off than a ‘family boat’ but film did cover a chap with a ‘forty-footer’ moored in Ipswich where apparently sailing is not allowed in the dock. Really: I have twice in recent times sailed towards the lock!

The film had far too much time aboard a West Country Lugger to my mind – there were some good moments, nice, but what was the film time for?

The Co-producers are a half brother and sister and I wondered as it progressed if this was ‘their’ film?

There seemed to be a lot of ‘cosy cabin talk’ about environment and achievements. The lady removed an engine from her boat, yet is filmed getting away from her Maldon berth with aid of motor boat … not really in the spirit!

Christobel wanted to ask her whether or not she would sail with a young baby aboard without back up propulsion – would she feel different?

Over the forty plus years of owning Whimbrel, the mate and I have developed well honed routines, well practiced and regularly accomplished: reliance on one’s engine with a sailing vessel is unsatisfactory seamanship.

Knowing you have learnt how to get your boat to do what you want strangles the ‘fear’ of having to carry out such manoeuvres when a need comes along, as it surely will with a mechanical device tucked away under the floorboards…

It is fun too to achieve what you want – Whimbrel tracks far better under sail or momentum than under power. A gentle touch of helm is instantly answered. Note below: she is gliding towards the mooring pontoon, speed slowing allowing time to step over, pick up the forward spring, drop it onto cleat to arrest her.

I do it alone too, using a short line onto the outer pontoon cleat. Sometimes a boat hook is called for, but no one has been hit or any damage done to ourselves.

Back to the film – cargo sail is discussed. As a retired Marine Engineer Officer, I am fully aware that the maritime world is working on ‘sail’ assist, but a general reversion to sail is not credible.

Yes, there are cargoes very suited to sail transit, but these are limited in scale. There are sail cargo operations in various areas of the world – to take on containerisation, not a very likely prospect!

I thought the film was somewhat naive in this respect, as was forcibly put by the ‘chap on sitting on my left’ – Michael Everard. Michael is a member of the British Shipping Council, and ex director/owner of Everard Shipping. (Interestingly, but outwith this post, we had a bit of a chat about ‘history’ back to the last trading matches and the destruction of the Everard vessels… I also talked about my RFA life and ships in general.)

Afterwards, talking to the ‘story teller’ at the event we attended aboard the Blue Mermaid in St Katharine Docks – we travelled up from Faversham by train – I suggested, tongue in cheek, that she read my books about the changing coast and environment: there are others like me out here who espouse similar feelings and have been at it for a long time… Not a new fad to fit the climate change warnings.

The film was worthwhile viewing and it contained food for thought. The total reliance on wind, tide and oar is a pipe dream though: as Richard Titchener of the Sea-change Sailing Trust said, even the Blue Mermaid needs a pluck by a motty boat at times, and, they and other engine-less spritsail barges use the barge’s boat with an outboard in windless conditions when the need arises…

For me, the film is far too long – forty minutes could be cut to deliver same message, I thought. I hope some radical editing takes place if it goes further.

The book: https://www.waterstones.com/book/wind-tide-and-oar/huw-wahl/artur-jaschke/9789083384122?sv1=affiliate&sv_campaign_id=626889&awc=3787_1726593924_014433b8788178fa393cc2f988760242&utm_source=626889&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_campaign=Preisvergleich

The film web site: https://www.windtideandoar.com/

The mate had expressly asked for a visit into Tollesbury – it would only be an overnighter: tomorrow will be our penultimate day.

Besides, I wanted to ‘raid’ the local butcher’s shop for a proper pork chop, cut to order!m. Our ‘last supper’ tomorrow night.

We were only moored in West Mersea, so it was not a long passage!

We left under sail and crept away down Thornfleet against the flood before crossing towards the Nass Spit. It was then a run towards Tollesbury Fleet.

Entering the Fleet in mid channel close to line of moored vessels, a ‘day fisher’ roared directly at us, the mate made a course adjustment, he kept coming. After a swing to starboard by us, he swept past at full chat – he had acres of water and depth to his starboard side. But he was a day trip fisher – an absolute buffoon!

It didn’t spoil our magic for long though as we crept along nicely with the last of the flood.

Coming to Woodrolfe Creek I spotted a couple more vessels motoring out, both slowed on approach, waved and went on.

‘Thank you..,’ we both mouthed! What a difference a bit of acceptance makes.

The creek has saltings moorings on both sides, the predominant clusters are to the west, where the HQ of Fellowship Afloat is based on an old light vessel.

I nodded as we passed the two creeks holding the rotting remains of the Saltcote Belle and Memory – spritsail barges long abandoned.

The saltings was lush with growth but I felt it won’t be long before a late summer and autumnal hue pervades for it isn’t long to the change of seasons.

Off the Lightship, our mainsail was stowed and we slowly crept on under jib: the flood was nearly done.

Little did we know that we were being watched: later the Marina manager wanted to know about boat and dinghy!

Finally, on the approach to the marina’s cill, the fickle breeze died. The water had the look of a glassy millpond. It was no good – the iron torps’l was called into action.

We berthed a few minutes past eight, in time for a quiet breakfast!

It was grand, just grand…

We were bound up the River Medway from Queenborough to Upnor. It was a calm start with just enough puff to fill main and Genoa. We crept slowly away from our buoy, gradually slanting across tide towards the shallows.

Soon after beginning to reach up Saltpan, a rapid increase in the wind strength persuaded me to change headsails: short tacking was going to be the order, with my proposed plan.

Entering Stangate Creek, a couple of tacks were needed to reach Sharfleet Creek. On the way I gazed upon two abandoned GRP boats languishing along the east bank of Tailness. One was abandoned after a grounding then sinking after firing off the saltings edge, the other is clearly a ‘break away’.

My belief is that these craft should be removed by the harbour authority before they become a hazard or begin to break up: the GRP content in sea water is something scientists are currently worried about across the world (see my post on the USA solution..).

Entering Sharfleet we got round in the natural tacks allowed by the wind.

We have not been into Sharfleet for two years and I was flabbergasted by the break up of the tounge of saltings running out south that was once part of Burntwick Island. Marsh loss has been huge judging by the remains island’s size – there were many visible tidal cuts into the soft clay.

A cruiser motored through the tide scoured channel that appeared a decade or so ago: perhaps it could become the main run of Sharfleet in time as what is left is rapidly being eaten away!

We tacked round the banana curve of the invisible western end of Sharfleet west of Slayhills Marsh using echo sounder and satnav before crossing the ‘Upchurch Saltings’ (mudflats now) into Half Acre Creek.

Upon Slayhills Marsh, a large vessel has been washed up. I know nothing about it, but will endeavour to find out! She sits at an angle of early forty-five degrees and is so far in she is very likely to be in her final berth.

The breeze was too strong to allow any saline scented wafts from the sea drenched saltings to reach us and boat speed was varying between 3.5 to 5 knots. My memory placed those senses for me though…

Way out in the main river, several largish yachts were motoring upstream (Why?) with the tide. One of these was astern of us as we later swept into the juncture of Pinup and Gillingham reaches!

It was a rapid beat southward to the Otterham Creek buoy which also marks the juncture with Bartley Creek and the South Yantlet. Our course was along the former towards Horrid Hill, on an isthmus running north out of the shore – all now a designated country park.

Passing Motney Hill first, I looked into the old dock on the end of this tail of land to the west of Otterham Creek. It’s an old brick and cement dock, still in a remarkably good condition. Motney is home to a huge sewage treatment works and it’s ping wafted over us!

As we reached up Bartlett, I gazed back at the spire of Upchurch Church, where my mother designed a millennium window. The building’s body was shrouded by trees.

Over to the north of us we were passing by the tide soaked saltings of Nor Marsh Island which once boasted a farmstead and hundreds of sheep. More GRP craft could be seen washed ashore…

A short tack was needed into Rainham Creek which runs to a boatyard at Marina’s Farm, a place used for winter layup locally. Horrid Hill was passed with its strategically placed ‘lovers’ benches shielded from each other by natural scrub.

Horrid Hill for many years was home to a cement making complex, it’s old wharves and building debris remain.

The scrub wilderness seems to suit Horrid Hill – a horrid name, for sure for it is a habitat for bird life etc.

Our inside route passage rapidly came to an end as we shot past a red buoy marking the channel across an old causeway, across the mud flats bordering the south side of Pinup Reach.

And, we left the beacon close to port for a clear reach past Hoo Ness at the western end of Hoo Island. We caught up with and overtook one of the ‘dawdling’ yachts motoring home. Another remained astern of us, not pass until we’d picked up a buoy under Upnor Castle.

Wind over tide choppiness was avoided and, yes, it was fun for sure.

It is not likely that I’ll have the opportunity to do it again for a while, or, as I wryly said to the mate, ‘if ever…’

P.S. this passage has been written about in various of my books – ‘Salt Marsh & Mud…’ is one.

It has been a very long time since we last had a night’s stop-over in Lower Halstow Dock, back to before Edith May’s days.

I’d contacted Geoffrey Gransden to clear our visit: the Edith May was away sailing up the East Ciast.

As we came abreast of the chosen mooring position astern if the TSBs Ardwina and Tollesbury, I rounded to fall back onto the wall – a touch of engine was needed, unfortunately…

After mooring, stowing sail and a coffee we were off on a gentle walk around the boundaries of L. Halstow and Upchurch. This is the land of my youth – from 1966.

We traversed the well worn path around the top of Glass Bottle Beach where rocks have been placed along the top to waylay coastal erosion – the problem is that the land is made from landfill and is ‘soft’ – easy pickings for the sea!

We passed by the stem and stern posts of the brickie barge Surrey poking above the tide. She was abandoned on the beach in late 1930s. Along from her sits the remains of Nile Wharf – used in bygone days by a farmer in the main.

Along the outside of the sea wall golden banks of samphire and it’s edible cousin glasswort, lower down closer to the mud line, grew in profusion.

On the inside of the wall immediately after leaving the old brickwork boundary is low land, wet with reeds growing thickly. This is the dammed off grad of Twinney Creek and marks the parish boundary here. Closer to Lower Halstow’s Dock than many appreciate.

The dock served a brickworks on the seaward edge of Upchurch and a myriad of tramlines interconnected, Dock, works and brick earth sites…

Across the saltings, belonging to Twinney, sits Twinney Dock. This was the home for the May Flower chosen by my parents chose after Whitewall Creek was left behind.

The family with the owners of the Henry resurrected the dock. The dock and land was bought over the heads of my parents by our joint tenants, thus we became, unknowingly the Henry’s tenant. My father ‘went ballistic’ on getting the quarterly rent demand…

Allotment style gardens were situated in a top corner above the ‘salt line’ – it is just grass now. The dock was purchased by current owner from those (that) owner and much gas been done to maintain a flush system, although cord grass threatens to choke the creek’s passage.

Apparently, a wedding venue is being established … stabling is already well bedded in.

My parents took a lease on Callows Wharf – long defunct but bits were still visible – where the barge was better able to come and go. A huge amount of work was needed, all family done, to make it ‘home’. That wharf too remains in use in amongst banks of cord grass towards the head of Milfordhope Creek.

The ordnance survey map showed a path running close to the dock access lane – we used the lane! It took us to Susan’s Lane where a short walk took us to a farm house (now not a farm house) and a row of cottages – Susan’s Cottages.

Turning into a field we were soon ‘lost’ for no way ahead seemed possible. Banks if nettle and thistle seemed to block the way until an oblique sort of passage was seen. It lead to a buried kissing gate (we had a kiss!).

After the kissing fate, the Lower Halstow road should have been easily accessible, however, barbed wire enclosures for ponies lay in front of us like a chequerboard.

We made our own way out, meeting a loud speaking (into a phone) young chap who wanted to know what we were about!

Trying to follow the path, we both said…

Barbed wire everywhere – Ah, sorry, he said, adding, I’ll fix that.

Yeh, sure you will!

We made it to the road by the old Methodist Chapel…

Up on the low hill sits Lower Halstow old village where hundreds and thousands of bricks were made, fired and sailed to London to be used in the late Victorian building boom.

On the green, and along the manicured roads within the old brick field, sits a clinkered clump of overcooked bricks.

Following the stream leading to the dock I was again wandering down memory lane…

Reaching the creek we found the tide had gone. Whimbrel was leaning nicely against the wall, so thoughtfully renovated by the parish council. Twenty years ago it was far from comfortable: posts were old spars and shuttering bits of barge planking, leeboards and rudders!

Back aboard Whimbrel I looked overboard and a weed infested sight net my eyes!

Once in the creek bed, a goodly crop of barnacles met my eyes too.

I set too, scraping and scrubbing.

The better part of Whimbrel’s starboard side was reached as well as the port side aft quarter and fore end – the Mate can do the rest another day!

After our evening meal, a glass at the Three Tubs beckoned…

Yes, it was a very pleasant interlude in our touring around. So interesting to see the changes at close hand, and too, to enjoy the rather lovely peaceful countryside around the watery edges of these two parishes…

The next morning, with just a favourable slant we sailed off the wharf and beat away from the dock…

Due to our move to a new mooring area, we did not sail into Faversham last year. Future visits are highly likely to be less frequent than we have enjoyed in the past.

So, it was with seemingly fresh eyes that we entered the creek a couple of days ago, managing to largely lazily sail up with the tide.

We were struck by the additional craft that have been abandoned on the banks with a sunken yacht just below Oare Creek. And too, by the renewed beauty of the saltings we sailed past: our eyes were just above the heavily sea lavender scented sight-line…

On the approach to Iron Wharf, the town’s high steepled church proudly mimics the lofty top masts and cocky sprits of the cluster of sailing barges berthed there.

We (I) had fitted a new galley pump the week before: it leaked out of its bottom seal and pump spindle. Great.
After removal and inspection, I decided to seal the base gasket with sealant. The leaking spindle was sorted by hardening up the o-seal gland. Probably, it is now overtightened!

I had called Mark the proprietor at Faversham Chandlery and to my delight he had a pump in stock – a Whale Flipper. So at least I have a spare: a ‘bodge’ is unlikely to last.

And yes, I shall be writing to the manufacturers…

When preparing to set off from our home berth two weeks ago, I spotted a tare in the leach of our Genoa. I gave it a fix using a bit of sail bag label … Cindy – Wilkinsons Sails in Faversham offered to give it a proper repair if we visited, which was in our plans.

I got the sail into sailmaker post lunch hour and it was returned to the boat after work by Alan Johnson.

So, a heartfelt thank you to both Faversham businesses!

We had come into Faversham for a booked prolonged visit because a day was set aside for an event in London at St Katharine Docks with the Sea-change Sailing Trust. But that is another story…

The stay also coincided with need of a washing machine – two of which are billeted in the Iron Wharf’s revamped shower and toilet facilities.

Some old friends have departed the yard or met their maker during past two seasons. Other craft have moved position – whether in line for breaking, I don’t know.

We had been tipped off after our arrival about a new waterside cafe at the outer corner of Iron Wharf by the old brick dock entrance.

However, I had spotted it as we came in – yes, we’ve visited and enjoyed decent coffee and cake! The building of the defunct Iron Wharf club has also been removed from where it forlornly sat for years, close by.

The place is called, Quints Retreat Cafe Diner. It has a quirkiness with interesting menu boards…

Enjoy!

Familiar or what!

The problem of unwanted craft around our UK moorings and boatyards along with discarded and abandoned vessels along creeks and riverbanks has been an increasingly sticky problem.

It is something our European cousins have cottoned onto too. A figure placed on such craft sits at around a million vessels. Of what minimum size, I can’t recall.

So, when I spotted in a Marine Industry News article a couple of weeks back that there was just such a problem around the waterways and lakes of the USA, I smiled. Let’s face it, why should it be anything different?

Apparently the problem has rocketed with numbers of craft being left to fend for themselves until they founder or break moorings and settle into a river bank.

The problem has reached such proportions that it has become noticeable. A solution is being sought. The American Boat Owners Association have received central funding for grant applications to make a start on dealing with the problem. A systematic removal is planned.

See: https://marineindustrynews.co.uk/boatus-foundation-opens-7-5m-funding-to-remove-derelict-vessels/

Now, in the UK we have the British Marine Federation – a builder/yard/marina ‘set’ looking after their interests. We also have the ‘use-less’ Royal Yachting Association, which seems interested in racing and gold medals than the interest of cruising and casual sailors.

As many will know, I cancelled my forty-five year membership over the RYA’s ‘disconnect’ from the Calor Gas problem.

However, they represent, in theory, the user group – US! What have they done? As far as I know, Nothing.

It is a subject I have harped on about for a very long time, long before I saw anything else in the media. See:

Ditch-crawler applauds action to find homes for old boats…

Wherever one walks along the shores of Essex and Kent the saltings rim is often the graveyard for an old thing that has drifted up on the tide.

In the past it was generally acceptable to let an old wooden vessel die on a river bank or patch of saltings where it would eventually rejoin the environment from which it came. Now it is not.

Since moving to The Blackwater Marina, which is a traditional yard as well, I have noted a number of vessels being broken up. During the spring an old MFV-type’ was placed in a floating dock and dismantled. Much was burnt, but some had to go to landfill. Other bits – outfit materials – were dismantled and went away somewhere…

Another similar vessel in a parlous state which was towed round from the West Mersea houseboat moorings awaits cutting up. Sadly, much of the hull timber was in a relatively good condition, however, talking to one of the dismantling crew, he pointed out where poor maintenance led up to its fate – a far too common story!

Currently an old steel tank barge briefly a failed houseboat project is being cut up.

In the yard there are craft fit only for disposal, in the moorings too … however, as yard managers have aft told me, ‘if the bills are being paid…’

It is a problem.

It is a problem that has to be dealt with!

In that, the ‘solution’ being worked in the USA may lead to government funding to assist in disposal for it is not cheap. It is that or local authorities and yards need the legal teeth to go after an owner, or if one cannot be found to apply for a grant to legally dismantle such vessels.

At the end of the day, an end of life plan must evolve: plastic (GRP) cannot rot or be burnt as wood can or steel recycled.

Food for thought.

Whilst in Scotland during May and early June, Christobel bought me a book she found in Fort Augusta about Scottish boat types. I wasn’t too sure, but looked interesting with a cursory flick through – ‘I am glad I said yes please…’

The author Ian Stephen has had a long association with Scottish craft, being brought up with them and has continued to sail them, as well as his own family cruiser based in the Western Isles.

Ian weaves into the boat types stories behind them and associated folk lore. It reminded me, in a way, to ‘The Salty Shore by John Leather.’ However, it is rather different!

The book covers all types of craft up to the size of the Scottish Light Tenders (with their associated work boats) and the Clyde Puffers – of which two examples currently live on the River Medway.

In a section about the craft from the likes of Watson, Mylne and Fife, there is a passage that rang in my heart: I have said the same thing!

About the King’s Britannia he talks of the revival of the big class yachts, J’s and such and says: ‘What if Britannia had been handed to a charitable trust instead of being stripped and deliberately sunk? What is committed teachers had worked with young people of deprived parts of cities, say Plymouth, Swansea, Belfast and Glasgow? He continues by asking the what if about these youngsters racing against the millionaires’s rebuilt boats…

Yes, well.

The same could be asked of Everard when they deliberately broke up two good sailing barges in 1963.

Thank goodness we now have organisations like the Sea Change Sailing Trust with their new spritsail barge Blue Mermaid…

While staying in Tarbert, Aygyll, I spotted a traditional open fishing skiff. She’s a Loch Fyne Skiff built during the last decade by a local boat builder, A & R Way, who involved local students in her build. Her hull and rig, a raked single mast with a standing lug, defines her type.

The author also discusses repurposing designs for a modern use – largely in rowing. All round the UK and many places abroad, the rowing of skiffs and traditional west country gigs has become hugely popular.

Many of the Scottish small beach launched craft used pebbles as ballast, however, in the modern rowing usage, the ballast is the people. and I am sure a ‘rower’will tell you that weight distribution makes a huge difference.

Some types have been recreated, and the author questions why. He says in chapter 3: ‘The purpose of Wee Hector, built by Mark Stockl (then with Ullapool Boatbuilders) was not clear. A role in the encouragement of tourism was one of the funding criteria. But there seemed no practical plan for fulfilling this.’

I was reminded of the Leigh-on-Sea Endeavour project – the rebuild of a typical mid 20th century cockle boat. She does very little apart from attending ‘flag’ events. Her rebuild funding criteria included taking youngsters afloat. Little if any of this is done for varying reasons – safety limitations, as far as I know, is one.

Another type covered was the Plockton racing dinghies. I’d come across these at Plockton while sailing aboard the Gaff Ketch Eda Fransden some eight years ago now. Several were listed over on the shore and their lines were interesting along with a deepish keel shallowing like working craft towards the bow. The rigs are tall, nothing at lal similar to a working boat where sail area was kept deliberately low aspect to help with sailing in often far from perfect conditions.

Many a Scots builder’s outputs can be found in our east coast waters – the Miller’s, the Zulu’s and east coast two masted lug rigged boats. Sometimes, the mouldering remains can be seen too.

My one gripe: the author often discusses at length a certain type with its rig set up but doesn’t include a picture… the book is scattered with little line drawings and sketches of craft, but I was often left wondering…

That said, I found the book very interesting and full of knowledge. I enjoyed it immensely and feel I have been educated into the bargain…

The book: Boatlines, Scottish Craft of Sea, Coast and Canal, by Ian Stephen, published by Birlinn, Edinburgh, 2023. £16.99.

The Mate and I have been on a two week heist to the West Coast of Scotland with a Northumbrian stop-over on our way home.

We have had two sessions in the western isles waters aboard the fifty-foot gaff cutter Eda Fransden (One is told about in my recent book: Sailing through life…)

After a distance break in Carlisle, Glasgow was visited for the opportunity to visit the Burrell Collection. Brilliant! From there we were booked to stay with my cousin and his wife in Tarbert, Argyll.

Onwards to Tarbert…

In Tarbert harbour was a small local traditional fishing skiff, rigged with a lug sail – whether dipping or not I couldn’t tell. According to my cousin, the boat does get used and isn’t just for show!

Although the marina looked to be stuffed full of plastic, it wasn’t, and some, as it turned out was classic!

Our visit coincided with the Clyde Series Whitsun Bank Holiday Weekend Regatta. Wow, I was suitably impressed by the time we departed…

Driving up towards our weekend abode, I spotted this 8 m tacking slowly home after the first day’s racing (Friday). It was clear she had a wooden hull.

Later during our stay, I spotted a modern ‘8’ with a Swiss sail number.

There was another wow too: we spotted what looked like miniature yachts heading into the harbour. It turned out that they were self propelled marker buoys and have been in use in ‘international’ regattas for some time.

They are battery powered with two motor driven propellers. They are capable of keeping station and, in the need, to be ‘motored’ to a new position by a controller.

The insertion of a gps position, they will head for home. See one type found online:

https://www.autoevolution.com/news/robotic-self-propelling-buoy-aims-to-simplify-sailboat-race-management-it-s-gps-powered-185832.html

I had been ‘promised’ a sail aboard my cousin’s boat – a big Beneteau of some 35′ in length. Sunday was the day deemed best (it wasn’t in the end, but a good choice!). A walk and a visit to Crinan at the northern entrance to the Crinan Canal was made.

In the canal basin was another Clyde Puffer, VIC 32, dating from 1943. It is privately owned and operated. Close by a sleek motor boat sat with drooping ensign and burgee. Passing it, Christobel spotted that the burgee was familiar. The West Mersea YC!

We had a bit of a chat. The boat had been trucked up to the Clyde and the couple were on a complete summer cruising around. My cousin gave some advice about anchorages…

In a neat cafe sitting beside the basin I spotted a range of engines on display – all ready to go…

They were all in fact agricultural engines made by Lister, so could have been used afloat!

So, to the brilliant bit. We went sailing on the Clyde!

Clearing the marina we set off down course to meet the craft as they returned. At a point near an island with the Sgat Mor Lighthouse we turned for home. It wasn’t long before the rain really set in – my mate was bravely keeping her chin up, or well covered!

Apart from some winch work when tacking there wasn’t a lot of cockpit activity…

Closing the finish line, the sun tried to reappear as the rain ceased and with it a calm, which was bewitching to the tail-enders struggling to finish.

A wooden Mc Gruer 28, of which only eight were built, owned by offspring of my cousin’s neighbours (they having passed her on) was one of these. She’d been timed out in a previous race and had felt aggrieved! They did finish in time…

As we went ashore after tidying and stowing gear, as one does, the race markers were collecting at a pontoon. Fascinating, but effective.

For details of a similar type:

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/YPMnx19jXkN1vWEz/?mibextid=UalRPS

Sadly we had to leave Tarbert to continue our excursions around the coast. Next stop was Ardfern, a lovely little place with a delightful friendly marina. Littered along the loch were patches of swinging moorings.

At the marina, I was hoping to spot a Finesse 21 motorised open boat, called Stravaig. This boat had come from Milfordhaven in Wales after having been sailed as an open boat. Why, is not known. Then, she was called Arab – told about in my book, The Jottings of a Thames Estuary Ditch-crawler.

The boat was exceedingly well fitted out. I was though very surprised that a cover wasn’t fitted.

While continuing my travels, my cousin sent me a post seen locally of a Corish lugger sailing into Tarbert’s harbour. The boat was built in 1881…

See post picture for details. Amazing.

Nearing the end of our journeyings and in Northumbria, we ended up in Amble. Driving towards the town, I spotted masts and was reminded of a little sailing club – The Coquet SC – where a Finesse 24 used to be based.

Contact had been lost. I wondered, indicated and pulled in!

The sight that I spotted as we parked up nearly brought tears to my eyes for a boat that a previous owner had cherished and cossetted was a mess.

The boat was originally called Emma & Kate. She has teak laid decks and has a fit out above spec. She was built as a gaff cutter and her spars with loose peeling varnish sat beneath the boat.

The cockpit has been left uncovered and most of the varnish had failed…

I obtained some details but said would try and contact the club’s secretary again. I left with a feeling of sadness.

It was a fascinating tour with oh so many boats on a ‘No Boats’ holiday!

Some while ago now I serviced the four lifejackets carried aboard Whimbrel and renewed our lifebelt. These jobs are just part of the well trodden list of ‘must do’ things all boaters enjoy!

Ditch-crawler preparing for the new season…

But, do all boaters do these ‘simple’ checks?
When the RNLI is called out so often to people crewing vessels with shortcomings, one has to wonder.

We can all end up needing assistance for one reason or another but…

Some while back I had carried out my biannual servicing of the engine oil and fuel system filters. The fuel system has never showed water in it and I went to a two yearly cycle many years ago. The engine is not overly used but it is operated regularly throughout the year, never sitting static for too long.

Recently, after washing the lifelines, I spotted that the ‘D’ ring turn over stitching’s had degraded, being degraded completely in part. All four ends were completely restitched.

I have been checking the Imray web site chart correction pages for a while, awaiting the correction lists fired out each spring. Been slow in coming this year, I thought.

So, today, I was pleased to find them available. It has been muted that the age of the paper chart is closing out – oh heck. Everyone has a chart plotter or similar, it is said. Do they? I have a GOS Map, but I wouldn’t call it my main means to navigate.

The boat’s charts have now been updated…

A change that has popped up is the movement east of the Raysand Swatch buoys. Now, the last time I crossed two season’s ago, I marked up the chart with where I could see there was more water: I had arrived early on the northern side having come from West Mersea and watched the tide come over. The flow was well to the east of the buoys – probably only around 300-400mm, but that can make all the difference!

Nothing to do with safety, really, but the jib and main halyards were run out at the weekend and given several runs around the inside of our washing machine. Does them the world of good, dissolving salt and releasing airborne verdigris.

I shall probably run out the topping lift and spinnaker lines too…

Not to be outdone, the dinghy which was given a good refit in the autumn, had her bottom rubbed down and freshly antifouled. I use a soft ablating paint for one doesn’t want unnecessary build up.

Apart from completing our build up of general stores loaded aboard for the summer, we are ready for the off!

Good summer sailing to all my friends and others…

‘So…’ my good mate began to say, adding, ‘what are you going to do when I’m in London on Wednesday?’

And without pausing, grinning wickedly, added, ‘why don’t you have a night down river with your mistress…’

Having recovered from a blush: I’ve never ever had ‘the enjoyment of a mistress’ I wasn’t sure the mate was serious!

She has, however, amongst her many girl friends, oft referred to Whimbrel as my mistress, so perhaps that was her tack…

The boat has many similar virtues, for sure, others it couldn’t provide, but one thing a boat can’t do is argue!

So, on the Tuesday of this last week, I gathered up all I needed and hightailed to the boat at Maylandsea’s finely situated marina. A few jobs were done before the tide neared and it was time to get the sails and such ready.

As the tide comes up Lawling Creek – although there is always a little water in the rill – duck, geese and a myriad of waders begin a frenetic gleaning, sieving the mud before it covers.

In Lawling Creek there has been a myriad of bird life all winter and into the spring. There are still numerous over-wintering Brent geese, but I haven’t yet seen any terns – late?

It was an easy sail down river and I just about reached the Nass before the turn of the tide. I stowed the main in clear water and sailed under the working jib towards the quarters channels, looking for the entrance to Mersea Fleet.

I spotted the line of buoys, then the perches marking the outer channel came into view. These withies have been marking the entrance here for around three years now: the channel has been threatening to close off – a result, I believe, of the beach recharge/regeneration of both Cobmarsh Island and Packing Marsh island.

Still no terns, I noticed. Normally by this time of the year they will be seen sitting atop various buoys, withies or anything else suitable.

Once inside, I chose a clear patch to amble forward and douse the jib before puttering to one of the many vacant moorings.

Looking closely at Packing Marsh Island, it is hard to believe that its time with us is that great. The beach recharge appears to have been attacked since done and it seems as if it is as it was a few years before hand.

I enjoyed a fine supper of fresh cheese topped bread, sausage with a onions with baby tomatoes… I washed it down with a bottle of ale!

Not long after sunset, the forward bunk was calling, so after washing up, a coffee and some chocolate found in my stores (stowed by my dear mate), I hit the hay!

The night was punctuated by what sounded like a raucous party on Packing Marsh Island. It wasn’t a bunch of ravers but a cacophony of gulls – the big variety – deciding that from time to time they would let humans know about them!

I awoke to a calm. Well, almost: there was a gentle east-southeasterly which barely ruffled the reflective surface of the ebbing tide.

The peaceful slightly high cloud morning soon developed into a glorious day.

Not needing the jib, I stowed it before setting about stitching up the ends to our deck lifelines. The stitching was degraded … I got one done and fitted before leaving. The other is being done back home!

In the glorious conditions I sailed off the mooring, gybjng round to head out, serenaded by the squawks of the hull population. I grinned for I’d had to clean the cabin top after a full decided to land earlier and use Whimbrel as a latrine…

Clearing Mersea Fleet I tacked out of the Quarters to round the Nass – a rite of passage and for a New Zealand friend – before heading for Sales Point on the Bradwell shore.

Closing the shore a ‘school’ boat crowded with outward bounders tacked across Whimbrel’s bow, forcing me to come round too – the person in charge, forward, lifted a hand saying something to the helm. Bad teaching was my view! Still they were out on the water enjoying themselves!

Shortly after, the ‘men in black’ roared alongside … the marine police! The conversation ran along these lines…

‘Where have you come from?’

‘Where are you going?’

Answering both, ‘West Mersea to Lawling Creek…’

‘Then…’

‘Home’ I said!

‘Oh, last of ebb out and flood in…’ the speaker said.

I looked at him and just said, ‘Yes…’

They left after saying ‘enjoy…’

Sorry, but neither I or the Mate have one iota of respect for our constabulary after the way they treated us during the Covid pandemic after we were threatened by an Essex sailor who touted the law. It was poorly dealt with. They are a waste of space…

Outside Bradwell Creek the Curran Trust’s Queen Galadriel was sitting serenely to her anchor. She did look a picture.

The tide was on the turn and Whimbrel’s speed increased accordingly and the distance to Stansgate Point was eaten away.

Passing the Marconi Sailing Club there were two yachts in launching trollers ready to go in. Ashore there were dozens awaiting a turn!

Sailing into Lawling Creek, I dumped the Genoa and reached inwards. As the boat scuffed the bottom, I rounded to stow sail and felt my way to a vacant mooring to await sufficient tide.

There were the usual seals basking in the mud with others in search of food in the water, crested grebe, duck, Brent’s and a myriad of waders to look at as I sat in the sunshine with my lunch.

The wait didn’t last long. We soon learnt at weary stage tge tide was sufficient to gain our berth. I slipped in after a momentary stoppage all ready to depart home to my mate upon mooring up: I’d missed her…

This was my first overnight sail of the year away from our new base – a new experience, but one I enjoyed very much. The ‘missing’ mate was a downer, but, hey, I’d had my mistress…