Through the snow to London.

There is an article to go with these photographs but I haven’t got it with me so it will have to be added later. Dinner was very simple spaghetti on Compromis in Hindelopeen and the computer is plugged into my inverter-don’t tell Jerry.

Now for the test-will it publish? If it does then a celebratory pint in the Sailor’s Inn may be called for.

It has worked so a pint it is.

Here is the promised account.

Easter 2008Thursday 20^th March. 

Pushing the trolley from Tim’s car to his boat, Filao, was akin to walking back in time. Another degree colder and the rain would have been snow, a 25kt northerly wind was whipping up waves in the
Ipswich dock and it was dark. It’s a decade since I last went Easter sailing in
England and in that time rarely had to put on oilies sailing in the
Mediterranean. 

Steve, Tony and David were already on board and soon the famous five sat down to dinner. The sight of Steve’s steaming stew being ladled out took me back to freezing nights in long forgotten Dutch ports aboard my previous boat-Brandy Bottle. Deja vu was complete when, sitting in a warm bar just 20 yards from the pontoon and being served by a pretty Polish girl, Steve insisted we walk miles in the howling wind and pouring rain to a proper pub.  

Friday 21^st March. 

Equinoxal gales may not be statistically significant but lying in my bunk on Friday 21^st March listening to the wind whistling through the rigging made them sound very significant.  

Easter is fixed as the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox. Today is the equinox, tomorrow is a full moon so Sunday is Easter Sunday. Easter hasn’t been this early for almost 100 years and 40kt of wind and snow are forecast for the next couple of days. Nobody wants to come out and state the obvious which is to leave the mooring lines alone until Sunday and enjoy life aboard Tim’s centrally heated boat full of good company, fine wine and plenty of food. Slowly a seamanlike compromise emerges which is to sail in the river today, stay in a marina for the worst of the weather on Saturday and strike out across the Thames Estuary on Sunday when thing are forecast to moderate. 

With the wind well aft, the tide under us and a reef in the genoa we creamed down the River Orwell. The gentle green banks are heavily wooded and dotted with fine looking houses and it gives me joy to see how beautiful it is. On the starboard bank are Woolverston and Pin Mill soon followed by Levington on the northern shore where my offshore sailing was based for many years. Nostalgia. Nostalgia. 

We turned up the River Stour and then between the posts marking the start of the approach channel to

Shotley
Point
Marina. On the lock is a large orange rectangle with vertical black lines. If they are vertical you are on track but stray either way and the lines turn into arrows pointing the way back into the channel rather like the chevrons on roundabouts.  The lock is straightforward and when we were safely tied up, Tony invited us to dinner. His fish pie had been prepared at home using smoked fish and various shellfish from the
North Norfolk coast and while it was reheating we had a couple of glasses of wine in anticipation. 

As the washboards were lifted out on Saturday morning our decision to stay was justified. There were 50kt gusts blowing into the cockpit driving snow down below.  Long walks and showers were the order of the day and come the evening another walk to the pub for dinner which was fine though the onboard fare was somewhat better. 

05 00 Sunday 23^rd March and the forecast is not good. Frost, snow, northerly going south westerly 25/30kt.  The lock gates open to reveal nothing. It is well before dawn and the mouth of the
Stour seems bereft of lights. 

“Go to port!” Steve and I tell Tim after looking at the chevrons on the lock gates. 

He points out the mudbank as we turn and the keel dug in to confirm his observation. A burst of revs and Filao breaks free. 

“Hard to starboard!” shout the chevrons and we find the mud on that side but another burst of revs and we are free again. Now I can see the marks at the end of the channel but the mud to port grabs us again and despite all Tim’s efforts it was not going to let go.  

“Shall we throw the anchor out to starboard?” was one of the ideas put forward.  “What about blowing up the dinghy up and rowing it out?” was a better idea but it was already too late and would certainly be so by the time the dinghy was blown up. The flood should lift us back into deeper water and with very little wind there was nothing to do but wait. Low water was predicted for 07 30 so it would be 09 30 before we were off. 

Tim, Steve and David retired to their bunks leaving Tony and me on watch. We tried to name the birds that were coming to feed on the mud that was slowly encircling the boat but after a while Tony went below as well. 

Frost was 2mm thick on the teak and showing no signs of melting, weed was appearing only metres to port and a pair of gulls standing up to their ankles in water were squabbling over some morsel 10 yards forward of the bow. 

Off to port were the lights of Felixstowe container port and in the middle distance Shotley Point southerly cardinal flashed incessantly. Ahead were the dark outlines of two light vessels on mooring buoys in the mouth of the
Stour and all the time the birds were screaming and shouting about the bits of cold, wet something or other they were pulling out of the mud. 

With an hour or so before low water there was the possibility that Filao might fall over on to her port side and who knows what bits of rock, steelwork or shopping trolleys lurked down there. With the sky lightening in the east I made out four small rocks sticking out of the water marking out a perfect square. Slowly, very slowly, they were disappearing back into the water but it was only a little after 06 00. Now the water was creeping over a patch of mud that had been dry. By 06 20 it was clear that the tide was on the make and I shouted the fact down to Tim who was on deck in a flash glad that Filao wasn’t going to fall over. Low water was a good hour before expected and with a big spring tide there was no way we would have got out at 05 00 but soon we were on our way. 

Last week at the Petit Bateau Solo Sailing Festival held at the Royal Southampton Yacht Club I listened to a harrowing account by a crew member who ending up in the water after his yacht had capsized at night and this was followed by a talk by Professor Tipton on the effect of cold water immersion on human physiology. 

Now I am at the helm of a 35ft yacht sailing out to North East Gunfleet at the start of a 45nM crossing of the Thames Estuary to the River Medway. Through the snow the brown water looked threatening; I was starting to feel cold despite being well off the wind. At NE Gunfleet we would harden up for the beat down Barrow Deep and it was clear that my borrowed coastal oilies and other layers were not going to be up to the job. That, coupled with the fact that I had had a pacemaker fitted only six weeks ago, made me decide to go below so as not to become a potential casualty. Even so I slowly cooled throughout the trip and when I came up for the last half an hour into the Medway my large muscle blocks were shivering violently. My thanks to Tim, Steve, Tony and David for sailing me across the estuary and the Espacher Space heater for warming me up after we had tied up to a mooring buoy in the Swale. 

Some final words on bits of kit.  The waypoints were entered in the cockpit mounted chart plotter while we were sitting in Shotley Marina so nobody got sick going to the chart table– and if you are worried about gear failure buy a couple of cheap handheld GPS’s as backups. Life doesn’t have to be made  more difficult. 

Tim’s outfit started with Musto thermals under Musto’s shelled mid layer jacket and salopettes plus Musto’s Ocean trousers and MPX Offshore jacket. The other two pluses were the thick fleece and modern leather boots. My feet were freezing in rubber wellies. All these layers didn’t stop them feeling cold with an air temperature approaching zero and snow blowing in their faces but it did mean they could keep functioning.  

After the talks at
Southampton I wore a lifejacket all the time and for the first time used the crotch straps. And finally let’s hear it again for the Espacher Space heater without which the six nights aboard would have been miserable but instead dinners aboard with a few bottles of wine and entertaining company made for a superb trip to St Katharine.  

Monday morning was breezy, cold but bright so the sail from Queenborough to
Chatham was a pleasure compared to the day before. The wind had a lot of westerly in it so in good cruising fashion we motor sailed with only the main. So sensible in the conditions. Chatham Marina is very sheltered and the facilities are first class but the nearest pub and restaurants are new and poor. 

Tuesday morning there was a split; the other four went to the

Chatham
Docks
Museum while I went for a walk a round the three basins of the docks. The most westerly has the marina, the middle basin has dinghy sailing training and the third is a commercial port and I couldn’t get round it. 

We decided to take the afternoon ebb tide down river as far as Queenborough ready to take the early morning flood up the
Thames next morning. Downwind gentle sailing just as it should be. It was just getting dark as we picked up a mooring buoy but on came the heater and Tim cooked his chicken curry. This was so much better than staying another night in
Chatham. 

Wednesday morning we motored out of the Swale into the
Thames in a flat calm and it stayed gentle all day but the sky became very threatening as we came into
London. Outside
St. Katherine Dock there are mooring buoys and we picked up one to wait for the 14 20 opening. After the lockkeeper’s initial reluctance to let us in gentle persuasion won the day despite his protestations that they don’t open the lock on Wednesday in the winter.

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