L'escale

Friday 22 July

It was lovely to have the Second Mate with us again, as it gave us an excuse to sail off and explore the Blackwater on another warm and sunny day.  I caught the glow of Bradwell Nuclear Power Station and had a lovely sail in the company of a huge Essex barge – I won’t dignify it by calling it a ‘race’ as there wasn’t enough wind for either of us to do the word justice.  Second Mate was happy to spot my friendly dolphins, and we cruised past the Radio Carolinebroadcasting vessel, not obviously transmitting but you never know.  The water looked wide from my viewpoint, but what do I know?  The crew seemed determined to keep me in the middle of the channel, and I heard the Mate offering information over the radio to the Dover Coastguard in response to their message about a sailboard abandoned in the area we were sailing through.  It was good to feel myself in the competent hands of the Second Mate, allowing the Mate to go forward to learn some anchoring technique when we came back into the Pyefleet Channel once again.

Thursday 21 July

Today we made landfall on the ‘heritage pontoon’ in Brightlingsea Harbour, along with a pretty selection of East Coast smacks and barges – I think I only got to meet them because I’m big.   A water taxi brought the Second Mate back on board for a second visit – I think she likes me.  After lunch on another hot day the taxi took them all over to shore, where they made the usual mistake of panic shopping in the first store they found (not that they need to be supermarket snobs but there you are), and then carrying heavy shopping around the rest of the town centre, where they found a good selection of local independent food suppliers.  I think they’ve realised that they need to shop earlier if that’s the day’s priority.  The Mate brought back “delicious” fresh fish and chips for supper; the smell almost made my mouth water.

Wednesday 20 July

As I said, the crew were up and about with the first light of dawn to put out all my fenders to prevent a rude introduction to my nearest neighbour, whose skipper had warned them that boats here don’t all swing the same way at the same time, and it took my people two more attempts to find a bit of mud that would hold us firmly in a breeze that built all morning.  It feels like the people have reorganised my galley store; something about an inventory of stock to be kept?  And emptying that gave Skipper a chance to run some cabling deep in my hull as part of his Radar Installation Project.  Needless to say, after all the nocturnal shenanigans not much got done today, but the Mate decided that my back step is definitely a more upmarket hair salon than the shower in the heads (bathroom), and seems happier for feeling clean and fresh.  Maybe someday soon they’ll do the same for me?  I’m really not keen on all that sticky salt lying on my decks and windows for too long.

Tuesday 19 July

I knew I was carrying those two big purple plastic buckets for a purpose – it’s the twintub washing machine the Mate finally worked out today needs to be installed on the back step (yes, you’ve realised, this is one of my most used spaces).  Really, MORE washing??

Anyway, eventually the chores were done and we had a lovely sail, no engine, actually sailing, North out of the River Roach and then weaving a path once again between sandbanks and wind farms.  The sky was cerulean blue, that sets off my beautiful white sails and red trim almost patriotically, but a smoggy heat haze hid our destination until we were almost there.  Never mind, the Mate had a lovely time flying my sails goosewinged until we turned for the final approach up the channel towards Brightlingsea, at the mouth of the River Colne.  It wasn’t the easiest anchoring in the Pyefleet Channel on the North Shore of Mersea Island, in low water springs and a headwind, and an early avoidance manoeuvre would become necessary in the morning.

Monday 18 July

The crew decided on a change of scene today, so we motored up the River Crouch, popping in to Essex Marina to swap two bags of waste for fresh gas and water.  However, they didn’t see anywhere they wanted to stay overnight, so we headed back to the seals on another hot and sticky afternoon.  Mate felt better after supper of sticky (!) sausage casserole with brown rice, and a cool shower.

Sunday 17 July

Skipper set up his mobile workshop on my back step to fit the new parts to my baby sister’s outboard engine, much to the surprise of the local boys, who were surprised my owners seemed to be “having work done – on a Sunday”.  Frustratingly it turned out to be only a partial repair, but he also sorted out my bow navigation lights, so I’ll be visible on night passages again.  Mate was also busy in the galley, baking bread and cake as well as washing…again.  Smoked salmon and beans salad for supper by candlelight in the cockpit, as the saloon temperature was a sticky 29˚C.  We basked in a stunning sunset before the crew showered on the back step under an almost full moon.

Saturday 16 July

An early start was necessary this morning to use the tides to help us navigate Northeast across the obstacle course of sandbanks, making the Mate think of Erskine Childers’ Riddle of the Sands, and wind farms that have sprouted like patches of forest throughout the Thames Estuary.  Once again the chart plotter came into its own, allowing the crew to steer safe courses in deeper waters.  For once the wind cooperated and we all enjoyed eleven hours’ wonderful sailing.  The sun shone and dolphins dropped by twice more.  Skipper found me a sheltered anchorage in a secluded creek, thanks again to my lifting centreboard, which means I can explore much shallower water than most boats of my size.  I found myself making new friends with a bob of seal mothers and their pups, who are alternately curious and swim near me for a better look, and lazily sunbathing half caked in mud from their scramble out of the water.

 

Friday 15 July

Well, mes amis, here I am, finally on the East Coast of England, new waters entirely for me and my crew.  Skipper spent the morning upside down in one of my water tanks, which have gradually silted up with aluminium dust and debris that clogs the plumbing and blocks my filters – not pleasant, believe me.  The tank was emptied, dried and vacuumed out – quite a tickle in my innards, you might say.  The Mate gave my decks a good spray down to wash off the salt the breaking waves leave behind, and then filled my tanks with 550 litres of lovely clean fresh water.  That should keep them going for a few days.

I heard talk of a bike ride to Broadstairs, which my charts tell me is just up the coast, but they chickened out when the wind increased (they’re not built for it like I am) and pulled out Bertha the shopping trolley (because you can berth-a-lot in ‘er) instead for a stroll into town for provisions.  In still warm and sunny weather they found the last of market day…and Waitrose.  There was also a lesson learnt: liveaboards needing to order spares have them sent ahead to a port they’ll reach in a few days’ time; it’s always courteous to phone the harbour office to check they’re happy to receive deliveries, and while on the phone remember to ask for the postal address, and what hours the office is open for collection of the parcel!

Thursday 14 July

The crew made an early start, and we set
off into the early morning sunshine, skirting the active firing range to round Dungeness Point with a clear view of the nuclear power station and its pair of solemn lighthouses.  The day was warm and sunny, and again dolphins swam close past us on their own journey to an unknown destination.  It must have been fairly gentle sailing, as the Mate came down to the galley to prepare lunch, and tidied up below.  She must be feeling stronger in outward muscles as well, as she hauled up my big mainsail this morning.

The crew was surprised by the lack of shipping in the vicinity of Folkestone and Dover, reputedly the busiest sea lanes in the world.  The only vessels I was aware of were a few cross-Channel ferries, but for an experienced Solent yacht like me, it was all an easy anti-climax.  Around the next headland of South Foreland the afternoon breeze almost died away, and as we were still several miles away from our destination, the Mate decided it was time to swap the genoa for the engine; yet another jump start and so a rude awakening for a dozing Skipper.  I was able to motorsail quite close into shore so my crew enjoyed good views of Deal pier and Sandwich.  We pulled into Ramsgate Marina, that was busy with boats from the Continent, the closest crew of which kindly helped my tired crew bring me safely into a finger berth with an unexpectedly short pontoon – will the Mate’s short legs allow her to step ashore?

Wednesday 13 July

Leaving Brighton at last, Skipper got me to execute a perfect ‘bump and run’ so Mate could return the Marina’s security key fobs to a member of staff by handing them over on the end of the new boat hook.  I didn’t even touch the pontoon.  Oh it feels good to stretch my legs and feel the sea tickling my sides again.  Up the sails went in the sunshine, and on along the coastline we cruised, clouds making shadows on the white cliffs in an ever-changing dance of dazzling white and soft grey.  I counted past each of the Seven Sisters and there was the red and white stripe of the Beachy Head lighthouse; another landmark ticked off.  Dolphins waved a quick hello on their way past.  As the wind started to play games with us the crew started looking for somewhere to rest overnight, and eventually dropped my anchor in what looked a promising spot in Rye Bay, just in the shelter of some cliffs.  Unfortunately for them it was also in the main path of the incoming swell, so it was a bit of a rolly sleep, punctuated by one cupboard after another shaking its contents around until padding was wedged in and relative peace restored.