I love sailing with my mate but today she had a full day visiting a couple of ‘girl’ friends as well as prepare some bits ready to entertain a friend to supper (I’ve just done my bit of that too…). So I went all alone…
I wasn’t completely alone: the water was coated in places with Brent geese and in the saltings the first flit of swirling winter birds were seen dancing above the saltings as the tide poured into their roosting spots. I saw a poor little gull too. It wasn’t well: it was swimming haphazardly in my creek, well down on the usual marks for such a bird. Mr Fox will get it, I’m sure. Below the kettle was about to sing.
Creeping out of Smallgains under jib, watching the antics of Mr & Mrs Brent…
The forecaster spoke of a south westerly of around 3-5. Hoisting the main inside Canvey Point marshes it was clear that a little more south was held within the wind’s bossom, so without hesitation the boat continued on her tack round as the hoist was coiled away and off we went, scarpering up towards Benfleet as I contentedly sipped my hot drink…
At this time of the year the creek is a bird paradise. Often ‘twitchers’ can be spotted gazing intently into a magnifier… Passing the hides, it was clear that a few lenses poked, provocatively, out of the open portals. I try to view the goings on amongst a flock through my ‘bins’ but one can’t spend too long gazing: I’ve once bumped the marshes during a high tide and have no wish to repeat it!
Passing Bird Island where I’m expecting to see cord grass growing perhaps next spring.
Tide height was 4.7 m Southend. Deep water channel is beyond mud … ‘my’ side is a lovely swatch to sail, even tack, through.
It was covered in Brents arguing over a morsel of eel grass…
I was feeling elated. It was my first sail aboard the little sloop for nearly two weeks. I have, however, had three days on a Westerley Discus (34′) on a trip down from Woodbridge – helping an old pal bring his boat home for lay-up. It was a grand trip, but written about elsewhere (Facebook). Being on ones own craft is different. It feels comfortable. You know where things are … reach out and that ‘something’ is where you last left it. I’d go again though! But I still missed my mate…
Pinching up through the remaining Benfleet club’s boats moored up in their patch I was able to ease the sheets a little as the creek bent in its shallow banana curve down towards the club and barrier. I’d made the passage without the need to put in a tack. Great feeling that – though I’m not against tacking: in the cooler months it helps to keep the body temperature up.
Within this rill sit two Finesse 24s – both seemingly laid up.
It seemed as if the boat shivered as we passed an inlet to a ‘dock’ area where a number of the Benfleet crowd keep their shallow draft craft, I twitched too. Then it struck me that in amongst the masts were two that belonged to two Finesse 24s … both not seen out sailing for a considerable period of time. I’ve met one of the chaps … his boat seemed to be in middle of a long refit, yet also seemingly rigged and ready to sail – shame… There are two other 24s up here. I believe one is out of the water at Dauntless and the other is still sitting in the old ferry rill above the bridge – she’s been painted up, after a fashion, but still not sold as far as I am aware … perhaps I should check!
Coming up towards the Benfleet YC.
All too soon the club house of the Benfleet reared up ahead – time to turn about. Holding the jib aback as it pulled the boat round through 360 degrees, I looked up at the club house and waved: I have a fan who loves to sit and watch… The jib snapped over at my command and we were away, moving a little slower against the tide. I edged into the shallows and wriggled along a 1m line out of the main flood current.
I’ve not been this way much since the spring. Over by the Benfleet Motor Boat Club’s moorings a bit of dredging appeared to be taking place … in the ‘centre’ patch the long run of cord grass and sea asters seems to have thickened somewhat. This is not good news. As I said to the PLA chaps last week, it won’t be long before there isn’t a creek that’s worthwhile using, and that goes for my Smallgains too…
Towards the ‘open sea’ homeward bound…
The broad reach homewards was pure tranquility. A spanking sail, no stress as I supped a mug of something whilst watching the world pass by … and down towards the ‘open sea’ I spied another sail … shortly after I berthed the boat came motoring in too. It was ‘old’ Jack, a long time member of my club and the Benfleet – he used to help pole spritsail barges into the creek as a youngster just before WW2 … he’s still enjoying the water though. Bless him…