After much thought we have at last made the break with the Island Yacht Club, Canvey Island.
An incident over the Bank Holiday weekend in August 2019 is at the root of this decision, which I will publicly discuss further down, but has been further driven by other more recent events.
The final straw came after we submitted a complaint about the way club members/visitors treated ‘us’ whilst Whimbrel was under going her fortieth anniversary refit.
Vehicles were being driven fast past boat by around 25% of drivers with no regard for the dust and debris being showered over varnish or paint being applied. Cones and a sign were routinely ignored…
See recent blog:
We jointly made a complaint about this with a few specific cases and the club’s response was to call just me in to a session in front of the flag officers to explain ourselves.
Just what needed to be explained?
No where was there an apology and let’s talk about this. Just a straight in and be whipped demand.
Now, the leaders of this club are the very same people who assaulted’ us back in 2019 and since the end of that affair, they have been looking for a way to get revenge.
So, we decided enough was enough and have departed.
Some while ago I wrote about life in a marsh-land yacht club and how ‘we’ looked after our moorings and club infra-structure.
There pervades at the club I have departed from, like many organisations oft heard in the news media, a problem with institutional bullying. It is led by people who still ‘live in the school playground’ and if one is not ‘in the set’ life can be precarious. These people have broken the club and made it a toxic and an uncomfortable place to be part of.
In that respect, both Christobel and I have, since the infamous RIB incident, been circumspect with lodging any official complaint about anything, which in itself has been a travesty: the bully won.
The slipway was later widened – I drew up the drawing (later digitised) for retrospective planning.
The RIB incident if 30 August 2019 will be documented in the files of the Port of London Authority. These are probably available if one wanted access – freedom of information.
It was over the bank holiday and an open cat event was being hosted by the Island YC.
So, the incident which has lived with me, in particular:
Christobel and I were making Whimbrel ready to depart our mooring to represent the Finesse class and club at Queenborough’s classic festival.
A club RIB (Furtherwick) came up the creek leaving a giant wash crashing through the moorings. I was on our fore deck clearing mooring lines. Although still aground, the boat lifted and surfed against her springs.
Meanwhile Christobel had called out, ‘Slow down.’
She was responded to with a single finger salute, which as most know, means: tickle your c—t or up your c—t. She was extremely upset.
We called the club’s commodore who said he was on way to club and would deal with.
We departed.
Nearing the outer creek, we rounded into the breeze (sw3) clear of the buoyed channel to hoist the mainsail. The boom was loosened ready. I was about to hoist when I spotted the same RIB exiting the club’s moorings.
It left the buoyed channel and came straight at us across the shallows increasing to a ‘displacement speed’ resulting in a huge wash. Christobel held her course with engine on tick-over.
I shouted ‘watch out’ and flung my arms around the slating boom as the RIB roared down our port side done 2-4 m off.
The boat dropped and then went ballistic with violent rolls back and forth. I felt the boat hit bottom.
I held on. I do not remember how I stayed aboard, but wished afterwards I’d gone overboard: it would have made what followed, easier…
Christobel was thrown across the cockpit, all but incapacitated in the corner. She eventually picked herself up and got the boat back under control.
I received wrenched leg and arm joints and Christobel a raft of bruises.
The RIB sped away rounding Canvey Point where a few cats were tuning up, then off east where others were doing the same… no one seemed to be in trouble.
Once under sail we made a further call to the club’s commodore – he fully understood the situation for I was shaking badly as I talked. Again, we got, I’ll sort it. That was the last I heard from him.
In the end after around two weeks, I filled in a Port of London incident report.
The proverbial hit the fan.
The upshot was that the perpetrators manufactured a defence (they got times wrong) and forced all discussion out of club minutes.
The outcome from the Port of London was that the club was reprimanded and reminded of how they operated etc, etc, and the driver was given a written warning. (All of this is held on file)
Whilst this sage was ongoing, I was coping with a huge lack of energy after completing radio therapy a couple months earlier and was on a programme of tablet chemo medication for prostate cancer.
The ‘three’ and cohorts didn’t give a stuff about that…
Early in the saga’s follow up, I had a call on my mobile from the chief perpetrator at around 2000 one evening. I asked where number had been obtained – commodore was the reply. I terminated the call.
On file with all paperwork of case, is an email from club’s vice commodore of time, stating that the phone incident broke club rules and national law regarding passing information.
I said it would be reported to authorities unless an apology was received. Time went by – nil response.
Towards the end of the year, a committee meeting was due and I had a call from our son relaying a message from a fellow committee member that ‘the three’ were engineering an ‘instant dismissal’ from club action against us both … unless we withdrew … because we were threatening a member…
After some thought, and with my energy problems, we wrote, saying due to my lack of energy and my mental ability coping with cancer that we weren’t able to continue … it was apparently accepted.
But, as we later found out, blood was wanting to be spilled.
For us though it wasn’t the end: whenever anything untoward occurred, I suffered from night-time ‘reliving’ of events returned with them cycling round and round with growing anxiety.
So, as said, over last few years we kept our heads low…
The pictures within the blog show a flash of our forty-years as Island YC members.
We raced with success for a decade or so. I was a work party member for thirty-three years and Christobel for a decade since retiring from teaching.
The projects, personal and joint/team, have been numerous. I looked after the creek buoys for twelve years or so. There was walling and concreting the edges of slipway, doubling its width.
During Covid, as we were a ‘bubble couple’ we replaced hundreds of walkway boards.
During the early 1990s the club’s compound was extended over rough infilled land, with layers of crushed building refuse and street asphalt scrapings. We were both part of a small team doing this midweek.
Laying of water and electricity around the extended yard…
Water services round the walkways was laid on…
Not forgetting, years and years of mooring and walkway repairs/renewals.
The rig was originally fitted with chain blocks, needing four bodies. It was converted to hydraulic lifting which was initially messed up. I took on the project and had it all stripped by contractor, cleaned, reassembled and tested to statutory requirements. The only time I ever received a formal thank you…
Sometimes it was very a very muddy experience enjoying ourselves in this marsh-land yacht club…
There were good moments afloat too. Early morning winter sails. Later winter afternoon arrivals back after a gentle potter.
Taking a cue from an ‘old boy’ now long departed, did I need one after being brought up afloat, I made visits to the boat’s mooring to check during high tides – checking and saving many another boat too at the same time.
During the last few years following the RIB incident, the mood within the club changed for the worse. Actions of the club’s hierarchy was causing angst – certainly among the club’s do-ers of the working parties – and the atmosphere was becoming toxic.
It was becoming ‘not a nice place to be’ and I silently began looking for alternatives, should that day dawn.
So, following the lodging of our complaint while away for a week at the end of June we decided to throw in the towel and make the final break.
Once our resignation letter had been sent, my anxiety cycles began to wain and a resemblance of a normal sleep pattern returned. Praise be.
Now we are gone!
Our open letter to the club’s members is unlikely to be honoured, but it is gradually making its way around via various routes from people who have supported us.
So, below is our letter. We don’t care who reads it: the hierarchy of the Island Yacht Club do not deserve any reserve…
A third page was directly to the Island Yacht Club committee and remains private.
So, farewell friends.
Some of you we will see afloat from time to time, others, well, we will both miss you. You gave us so much whilst members of a job, project, or just nattering over a piece of cake at tea time…
Thank you to all who we have been honoured to work with.