Saturday 30 July
Off they went without me again this morning on those clever folding bikes, and they were soon back with panniers laden with goodies from Suffolk Food Hall, a sort of indoor farmers market meets posh deli, apparently. At least my crew are willing to try out regional specialities, and they certainly know how to support local economies on their travels. They packed the bikes away and the Mate was given special permission (as there was no wind) to take me off the pontoon and out through the lock. She didn’t do a bad job, but lots more practice needed is my verdict on that operation – she needs to learn to trust me more; I will look after her. We paused to pick up more cooking gas at Woolverstone Marina, where two nice boys came to admire me – or were they looking for invitations to crew?
I was pleased to see 
Terry the Tug heaving one of those huge container vessels off Felixstowe Docks – oooh, the muscles on those boys.
We turned to starboard towards Harwich and into the River Stour (I heard the Mate say the locals pronounce this ‘Stoower’). This river forms the border between Essex and Suffolk. It looks much wider than the Orwell, and is shallower, but it still has a relatively narrow central channel with drying mud flats stretching away either side, so we anchored in what feels at high water like the middle of a lake, but I can see why they chose this spot when the tide drains away.