With a new central heating boiler taking up time last week, never mind the tides being down towards neaps, I took the opportinty to fetch our cockpit floor boards home for dishing up. They’re back on the boat now (more on this later…) So, sailing wasn’t on the agenda at all, however we fully intended to go on Saturday, but the wind blew old boots… I wasn’t that desperate!

“Can we go on Monday?” my mate asked as we were sitting in the car to go home, tired and aching a little from a ‘slog’ down on a Saturday work party fatigue. I nodded my head lots…

Monday came round … forecast good. House chores done and a 4 mile walk trotted off too, we packed a sandwich and headed to the boat. The tide was creeping up to the rudder – plenty of time to get ready and munch our lunch. I watched as a number of brent geese  paddled along the mud edge across from us, not minding our presence.

As soon as the tide lifted the boat we slid out into the tidal stream … swinging round to head up with the flow, against a steady westerly of mainly force 3, I left the helm with the mate. Sails were quickly hoisted: space to manoeuvre is limited. The mate tending the helm, kept her going – something it does alone when I’m on my own at that point – then, as I called, she put the helm down and the boat forged round with jib held aback to pull the bow round sharply. “Ease the main more” I called, to keep wind out of the sail.

We were off…

Heading out of the creek…

A gaggle of geese…

” Where to?” I said to the mate… She shrugged, telling me that it was just good to get out!

Clearing the first part of our creek’s buoys, I set the boat over the shallows and we headed up into Hadleigh Ray. It’s great going that way because, if tacking is needed then a run back over the tide is easy! There are a few more craft out on the moorings again, just a sprinkling – the ‘open’ water will soon be less so.

The wind came at us a little harder at times, heeling the boat, but not uncomfortably. Several sets of eyes were upon us as we cut quickly on the tide past Two Tree Island. I saw a couple of bird watchers in their hide too, equipment scanning the world beyond… We were able to fetch right past the old Salvation Army barge wharf before a tack was needed – grand.

Following that we had to put a series of shorts and longs in, the wind being bent by the closeness of the downs. The boat was worked up to the Benfleet YC and a little past … a friend was spotted. We watched him amble down to a perch atop a post at the foot of the club’s slip… A quick “Hi…” was all we managed, as we slipped past on the fast running flood.

“I’m coming round shortly…” I said to the mate, letting the boat fall off to give room for our tack round of 180 degrees… All went well, initially. The main was all slack, slatting slightly in  light breeze. Our jib was pulling the boat’s head nicely round.

Without any warning a blast of wind hit us. The boat heeled until the deck dipped, she picked herself up and shot off … the BYC floating pontoon in her sights! Down helm: back where we’d come was the only safe option …. and as soon as it had happened, the wind had gone on its way … round we came again.

The look on my mate’s face was a picture!

A lady walking past had stopped to gape, calling, “You didn’t see that coming…” Clearly not! My friend just seemed to look on nonchalantly – he hasn’t reported back yet. Above us, in the club’s busy lunch time bar, I could see many eyes gazing down at us … I waved and grinned…

We soon settled down on a slow at first run away from the ‘top’ end of the creek. As soon as the outer mooring trots are reached the wind strengthened and we rustled over the last of the flood.

Clear of the BYC moorings a Seaking 29 came up, motoring, she’d gone past earlier, cutting close past us! “She’s called Mister Pegotty…” I said to the mate.

The tide had reached that point loved by many, sailors and walkers alike: it had filled the saltings. Only the dead stalks of the previous year’s growth stood proud – the seed heads of sea asters mainly. A myriad of sea birds could be seen, black dots peppering the tufts and the water too. The early afternoon sun was tempered by a cloud or two, changing the light patterns. It was a picture of pure delight.

Pure delight…

On our approach to Two Tree Island the tide had slackened and was on the turn. Away, sea wards, fishing craft had already swung. Handing over to the mate I pulled out our fenders and grabbed the mainsail lashings. Surreptitiously I slipped my camera into my coat pocket … I wanted to catch the mate: she hates having her picture taken!

I caught her… The look says it all!

As I set about dropping, first the jib, and then the main, the mate guided us into the creek’s run and the engine was set in motion. I ruminated, quietly, up forward, on how lucky we were to be out on the water in such fine conditions in mid March. It really does make one appreciate life…

A little over two hours after we’d set off we slid alongside our berth, two happy and contented souls…