An English Summer 2

 

With a mighty rush of her wake and a thrumming of her canvas, Colchester smack Puritan barrels past. . . .

. . . .and disappears, rapidly seaward, along the Swale.

Stargazer lies at anchor. Tucked in the shallows, behind the spit, at Harty Ferry. Sheltered from the north east breeze. A suitably tranquil spot in which to eat a birthday lunch; and from which to begin our summer cruise.

A little further upstream, off Bell's Creek, a clinker built Finesse has used her lifting centreboard to advantage and crept in closer still, to the shore.

This morning, in a misty first light, we left Chatham and beat our way down to Grain Fort. Where the Medway meets the Thames estuary.

The sun burns through the murk, as we tack downriver. Casting an eerie glow over a tanker offloading at the Isle of Grain gas terminal. 

The wind pipes up to twenty knots as we clear the river mouth. I tuck in two reefs.

Stargazer tramps into the dawn. Scattering spray. Shouldering her way down Four Fathoms Channel. Making, a tide assisted, seven knots over the ground. Whitstable already visible, as a smudge on the horizon, off our starboard bow. 

We ease sheets, off the submerged and unseen Columbine spit; and run into the Swale. Its sandy shores clambering up out of the sea to either side of us.

We have made good time. Arrived more than an hour before I expected to. The last of the ebb is still flowing out of the Swale, against us. Our progress slows. But, provided we take the current head on, we are still making four and a half knots over the ground . I furl the jib so that we can run dead downwind, straight into the tide.

From Harty, if the wind is fair, we can make Dover on a single tide. 

An English Summer

 

In a majestic silence, the Thames sailing barge, Edith May, glides away from the bank. No word is exchanged between her crew, of two. Her engine is not started. Instead they cast off, at the bow, with the last of the flood still making. Once the tide has eased her head out, from the jetty, the jib is hoisted and the stern line let go. 

She slips, noiselessly, out into the deep water channel. There she spreads her tan mainsail, to the following breeze. Her speed builds, as the tide turns fair beneath her. Upnor Castle dwindles astern.

Soon it will be Stargazer's turn to set sail. She has her provisions and water aboard. My dental repairs are complete and, this evening, I receive my second vaccination. Our ticket to wander the summer seas.

May's stormy weather seem to have subsided. The forecast for June promises a week, or more, of unseasonable, but moderate, easterly and north easterly winds. Fair winds in which to sail south and west, once any post jab side effects have abated.

European, including Irish, borders are once more closed, to UK citizens. Even if this were not so, France, the Netherlands and Belgium are not on the UK government's green travel list. So it will be an English summer. Beyond that, the shape of our cruise has yet to reveal itself. We will discover it as we go, guided by wind, tide and serendipity. That is the magic of cruising under sail.

Pit Stop

Stargazer reels to the first gusts of an Atlantic storm . Its arrival has been foretold by the relentless and rapid drop in the barometer. We are in for a wild three or four days.

Glad to be in port, for our pit stop, between cruises. The timing of my second Covid jab, which brought us in, has fallen well.

Stargazer needs no attention, beyond re-victualing, after her shakedown cruise. 

Greta, my (new, over the winter) electric car, too, coped well with our month away. The battery was at, the optimum for storage, fifty percent, on our return. A successful test run for my programming, of the charging station.

The only weak link, in the chain, turned out to be me. Not my back, on this occasion . Investment in a nine inch orthopedic combination - foam mattress, for the forward berth (immediately on return from our summer 2020 cruise, but untested due to lockdown restrictions) seems to have had the desired, transformational, effect .  Instead, my cavalier approach to dental care caught up with me. Remedial work has now begun, ashore.

I am also using this pit stop to plan ahead, for this autumn. By then Stargazer's rigging will be twelve seasons old. The rule of thumb is to change it at ten. So we are overdue. Her mainsail will also need replacement. The question is: who should do the work, and where? The answer will have a bearing on our cruise plan, because it will determine where we need to be in September.

Whilst in Levington, on the Orwell, I visited OneSails for a discussion . Richard, the rigger who helped us out last year, is based there ( see Learning Curve 1  Learning Curve 2 for that story). . . . .

. . . . as is Brian, sailmaker to Pip Hare's Vendee Globe Challenge**. 

I am exploring a Kent based option, next week, with Wilkinson Sails. Based in Faversham, they are my local sailmaker and already look after our winter sail repairs and valeting. They may also be able to carry out the rigging work.

Still another option, is a late summer pit stop on the Hamble, home to a number of riggers and sailmakers, with an autumn return to the Medway, once work is complete.

Meanwhile, Patience, a sixty foot Oyster, based in Chatham, sailed from Falmouth, on the day Stargazer got in. She is now anchored off Islay, after a three day, non stop, passage. The west coast of Scotland is a cruising ground which we would dearly love to explore. It is within Stargazer's reach too, if we started early in the season and hopped our way up the scenic west coast of Ireland . Its not for us this season though, with our, jab dictated, late start and our, rigging pit stop dictated, early finish.

Dream Catcher is beguiled by the English Riviera. Still in Brixham, but considering moving round to the Dart. Perhaps upriver, to the idyllic hamlet of Dittisham. Pictured here, from the comfort of the Ferry Boat Inn, with my old Goblin (with the beige canvas work, just astern of the yellow boat) in the background.

Where will we head, when we leave, at the end of next week (or thereabouts, according to weather and jab after effects)? The plan is to head down Channel, along the UK shore - due to the current amber travel rating for France. We will keep an eye out for any changes to the Channel Islands entry restrictions, as we sail. If the winds are south westerly, a long tack out, from, say Poole and into Guernsey; followed by a tack back into, say Plymouth, can be an enjoyable way to make progress west.

** If you would like to know more about the Vendee Globe, this is the story of the 2020 to 2021 race:

 

Out of Lockdown 28

 

From my bunk, I can hear the gentle rattle, of the flag halyards against the spreaders. The wind is from aft, this morning. We have our west wind!

Stargazer sweeps out of the Crouch, over a silver sea. Broad reaching, with the ebb under her. Making eight knots over the ground . Full main and genoa drawing powerfully. 

We catch the turn of the tide, at the Whitaker, and close reach south. Double reefed now, in our favourite passage making, eighteen to twenty knots of breeze. Down to the historic Nore anchorage. A favourite naval mustering point, to wait for crew, a fair wind or the turn of the tide, in the era of sail. The Heyday of the Chatham dockyards. Still used today, by coasters, waiting to unload their wares on the London wharves.

It is midday now. The sun busily burning off the haze. Ships churn industriously in and out of the London River, along the deep water channel. We pick a gap, and cross.

Astern, Searcher, the Border Force cutter appears, suddenly, out of the mist. Travelling at speed, on a mission.

The low cliffs of the Kent shore are visible ahead of us now.

 Stargazer slips into the Medway. I shake the reefs out, as the wind drops. . . . .

. . . . . stilled by the rolling countryside, which surrounds us.

Stargazer locks into the familiar marina and secures to her berth.

 We have made good time, with the help of the west wind and two fair tides. Forty seven miles in seven hours. An average of six point seven knots.

Out of Lockdown 27

 

The Dragon fleet are away, on a reaching start. It is the only one possible, with today's southerly breeze. Their spinnakers are ablaze in the sunlight, cracking like gunfire, as they fill. Bow waves foam and sparkle.

They line up, on the Royal Corinthian Yacht Club line, in a black squall. Passing the site of the Petticrows yard, in which they were built . Now the Petticrows Court maisonette complex . With the historic boat builders relocated to Cascais, in the Portuguese sun.

Pencil slim, low freeboard and long graceful overhangs . A timeless hull form, on which today's Spirit yachts (which we saw under construction in Ipswich) are modelled

The Dragon fleet dice and jockey for position, as gusts roll off the river banks. One of the Blaze fleet is already out (bottom left). Every inch the modern racing skiff: monofilm sails, blunt ends and hiking racks. The lone helm sheets in, heads up a touch, leans back in the toe straps, climbs onto the plane and effortlessly overtakes the Dragons, to leeward . Ancient and modern . Compare and contrast.

Ashore, the main Blaze fleet prepare for their start . Rigging up. Checking the course . Pre race banter ricochets back and forth . Nervous laughter. The tension mounts, as the first warning gun sounds.

Some prefer to chill. Confident in their boat preparation . . . .and of reaching the start in time.

Some prowl the line . Searching for wind bias. Watching for race signals. Monitoring the countdown by wrist-worn stopwatch.

One by one, the fleet assembles for the Sunday race.

Back at the marina, a different type of Sunday atmosphere pervades. Folk are down for the weekend. The sunshine encourages lingering pontoon conversations : plans for the season, "I like your boat," the best local anchorages, tidal timing tricks, "I remember once when. . . . ." Boat talk, anywhere . Acquaintances made or renewed.

The forecast tells of a week of westerly winds, starting tomorrow.

Out of Lockdown 26

 

On a soft (in the Irish vernacular) Saturday morning, a gig crew gathers, on the Royal Burnham Yacht Club Jetty. Dressed for a day at the oars.

The flood tide is sluicing by. (See the rip, past the mooring buoy). They hang, for a precarious moment, suspended between success and ignominy, as they slip their lines. Whilst the crew seek to find a rowing rhythm, the tide seizes the bow of the gig and propels them, diagonally, stern on, down the jetty. "Pull together, on the count," calmly intones the cox. The gig gathers way, enough for the rudder to bite, and turns - travelling easily now, with the stream, parallel to the shore.

They shoot along, inside the rows of moored Royal Burnham One Designs. Seeking a gap. Then spin, cross current, bend to their sweeps and ferry glide out, into the river. Working the power of the tide.

Stargazer (marked by the fifty pence piece) too must work the tides, for the homebound leg of our shakedown cruise. Our plan is to ride the Crouch ebb, out to the Whitaker beacon (twenty pence piece). It marks the end of the sandbanks (green), which extend ten nautical miles beyond the visible shoreline (yellow), of the river channel. There to pick up the first of the southbound tide, the Sheerness flood. That will carry us southwest, between the Maplin and Barrow sands; across the Thames shipping channels; into the Medway and on home, up to Chatham (marked by the one pound coin).

Because we will be sailing first north east and then southwest, we would prefer the wind to be out of a direction other than the southwest, which it was on arrival, or the northeast, which it has been since. To enable our tidal strategy to work, we also need to average better than five, preferably closer to six, knots. A breeze of between twelve to eighteen knots, out of the east or west, would therefore suit our purpose to perfection. Such a breeze is forecast to fill in, either tomorrow or on Monday.