The other day we pottered down with the last of the ebb and anchored off Higham Flats … I promptly abandoned the mate, to an anchor watch, while I went ‘ashore’ for an amble across the mud flats – hard clay mostly – to look at two old spritties that have lurked here for a half century or so… These are the Marianna and the Coombdale. The latter was a big boomie barge – that is she had a gaff main and mizzen.
The Marianna and the Coombdale on Higham Flats.
The lettering on the Coomdale’s transom was still evident for the last part of her name … tar was still attached to planking, especially at mud level where it appeared recent scouring has taken place…
Returning to base we sailed further back down river and poked into Cliffe Creek. We have walked the area and know it is essentially dished and free of debris. The tide was below the ‘flats’ making life decidedly easier … that was until we reached a point where I said, “enough…” much to my mate’s relief. Turning took some time: grounding the bow to use tide to do the work in the confined width then resulted in a short wait …
Sailing up Cliffe Creek early on the tide…
On the way in we’d passed the remains of a little barge resting sleepily in the cord grass along the western edge of the creek near the old brick and cement workings. Only one side was in view and what looked like one of her horses still crossed her deck… I haven’t my Sailing Barge Compendium with me, so a friend confirmed the vessel as an unregistered river barge, the Little George, abandoned to her long lingering death many moons ago.
Leaving the creek we sailed up to Grays and borrowed a mooring of the Thurrock Yacht Club. The next day, wet and dreary, was voted to be a rest day – we stayed put, apart from fetching water from the club!
Departing Grays, we sailed, under jib, across the river to fetch up in the shallows outside a little creek that wends its way a short distance into Swanscombe marshes – a place that is due to be an amusement park if the planners get their way… I then pottered off in the dinghy to investigate … the mate chose not to accompany me: it was by then drizzling somewhat!
Entering the creek…
Inside the creek…
The inside of the creek is shallow and muddy – in fact it appears to be a creek that is on the verge of death. Many craft are completely enveloped in reeds. A ‘Dutchman’ rests as if awaiting a refit, yet is clearly in a waterlogged state. Old fishing vessels are seeing out the last of there days. Amongst them I found several vessels in a sailing state … aboard one, a man called out, “You alright mate…?” He seemed a bit nonplussed about my pottering and thought I was in trouble having seen us sail up and anchor earlier!
Clearing out I returned. I’d only been away around forty minutes, short by my standards, an caught the mate out: I was almost aboard before she realised!
It didn’t take long to raise anchor and set sail … wafting past Greenhithe, a place to stop off at on the way back next week. Soon the Queen Elizabeth II bridge was looming above us and Crayfordness beyond loomed in the murk.
The QE2 bridge…
The mate had been on the helm since up anchoring so I heated soup on the stove and we munched on olive bread and sipped the hot brew as the bridge passed by … our passage ended at Erith, on a borrowed mooring off the club. This club, unlike the one we stopped by the previous day, was a hive of activity with many youngsters enjoying cadet week, we assumed. The thrills and spills that ensued was greeted by much mirth: it carried on the breeze as I watched, enjoying a pot of tea and a hunk of cake…
Two shots of Erith’s cadets enjoying the conditions…
My last comment: after two dreary days, some sunshine would be great, but as we stood wearing our oilies today the mate said, “… only the second time this summer…”
Clearly been spoilt by the weather during July and earlier this month… Ah well!