Out of Lockdown 25

 

A snowy white Egret, breeding season head plumes trailing, keeps pace with me, wading in the river, as I walk along the top of the dyke . A flash of brightness on a day of muted tones.

A perfect walking day. Cool and dry. Below me, to my right, a drainage channel winds off inland, across low-set fields . Bordered by luxuriantly thicketed banks.

To my left, runs the Crouch. On it a boat works her way upriver, riding the flood tide. Sniffing out the scant breeze, between serpentine banks.

I cut across the fields at Creeksea. Diverted inland, behind, what looks like, the preparations for a rural river front housing development.

The Saltmarsh Coast Trail winds on, along the top of the dyke, until it reaches the melting pot of Althorne Creek . This combines a branch line station for London; desirable modern houses, built in an Elizabethan, half timbered style; Off grid cabin homes, haloed with the scented smoke of their wood burning stoves; a DIY boat yard, for the more mature leisure craft; and the diminutive Bridgemarsh Marina, nestling amid the high mud banks of the creek.

The wheelhouse, of a long decommissioned coaster, serves as a characterful Harbour Office. Whilst the Welsh Dragon flies proudly from the forestay of a, formerly ocean going, yacht, now beached in a mud berth and serving duty as a houseboat.

Shallow draft boats line the pontoons, suggesting a restricted depth . I spot bilge keeled Hunters, of both the American and UK varieties. (The UK type were originally built very close to here, in Rochford, at the head of the River Roach, which feeds into the Crouch just below Burnham). There is a lift keel Southerly too and, of course, plenty of, inherently shallow draft, power craft. These are the border lands to the notorious Dengie marsh. The gats and swatchways, after which, the Essex inshore cruising pioneer, Charles Stock, named his home built, sixteen foot, gaff rigged cutter  Shoal Waters

Out of Lockdown 24

 

I am glad to have gone ashore for a recce, on arrival, yesterday afternoon. A stroll into Burnham, to see the lie of the land, in the evening sunshine.

Today drizzle intensifies to rain. Large drops splash softly down, around Stargazer, raising whorls and transient liquid craters. I count myself fortunate, to have timed my provisioning sortie for the drizzle phase. I am back aboard by the time the continual rain sets in.

Dream Catcher (sister ship pictured) text from Brixham. They are fellow Chatham berth holders and set out two weeks after Stargazer. I tell them that I have heard, from Tanya on the Orwell, that the Channel Islands are relaxing entry restrictions, to UK residents, at the end of May. Excitement builds for a St Peter Port rendezvous. 

We start checking websites for official verification, of a change in entry requirements. It turns out that I was half right . Jersey is opening up, subject only to a clear PCR test, for Brits . Guernsey, however, is not. Even Jersey dwellers, wishing to visit, must still serve out a quarantine. An evolving picture.

As is the weather for the next few days. Rain, we can take or leave, that is what foul weather gear is for. Wind, preferably in a favourable direction and of a suitable strength, Stargazer does need. We will be heading south west, once we leave the Crouch. One elusive day of westerly wind (which would give us a reach) shows in most forecasts. But the day, on which it falls, is the subject of disagreement.

Out of Lockdown 23

 

Dawn casts its golden glow over the Harwich skyline, as Stargazer puts to sea.

Despite the early hour (05.00), the skipper of the Trident Voyager 30 'Tanya' (pictured above - earlier), helps us on our way. Yesterday we had discussed techniques, for safely exiting our berths solo, given the beam wind, a lack of  midship cleats and the large powerboat astern. We could not identify one. Instead, this kind offer of help was generously made and gratefully accepted.

Incident free exit achieved, I drop two reefs into Stargazer's main and settle down to watch the sunrise. In the shelter of the river we make stately progress in fourteen knots of breeze. The low sun paints the water a rich deep blue, as we sight the cranes of Felixstowe.

Clear of Landguard Point, the breeze pipes up to twenty knots . Stargazer puts her shoulder down and goes, ploughing a straight white furrow across the cobalt waves.

It is low water springs, as we beat through the Medusa Channel, toward Walton on the Naze . Least depth under our keel, one point four metres. Speed over the ground, seven knots. The frisson, which that combination brings, is the price we pay for carrying a fair tide out of the Orwell and picking up six hours of southbound tide at the Naze.

Our fair tide propels us on our way, down the Wallet and through the Spitway. Raising our speed over the ground and the apparent wind with it. On Stargazer beats, through the morning. In twenty two knots of breeze now. Truly glorious sailing.

We ride the flood up the river Crouch. Still beating. The funneling effect, of the river, bending the breeze, allowing us to follow the twists in the channel without tacking. Up past the red brick frontage of Burnham on Crouch, Stargazer sails.

Into the shelter of the harbour. To rest awhile beneath its high grassy banks.

Out of Lockdown 22

 

 A Shrimper slips off her berth, her reflected doppelganger following obediently beneath. The water surface is mercury smooth.

 On a carefree, 'Wind in the Willows,' summer's day, they are heeding the Water Rat's advice to Mole: "There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." 

The wind has fallen silent, exhausted by the extremes of its exertions, over the past few days. What zephyrs there are, carry the heat of the southern latitudes, from whence they came.

A Great Crested Grebe suns itself, between cooling dives for food.

The shoreline is still. Silent, save for the scrunch of shingle beneath my sandals, and birdsong in the trees.

A passage making force four or five, from the southwest, is forecast for tomorrow. And the tides are fair for the Essex shore. . . .

Out of Lockdown 21

 

As Oystercatcher perches, motionless, on a weathered post, in Levington Creek . Watching the tide rise, with red gimlet eyes.

Black billed Brent Geese cruise the margins of the submerging sedge.

A pair of Shellduck are on patrol too. One by land. One by water.

Speckled, long limbed and lithe, a Redshank stands in the shallows . Staring into the sediment rich waters, in search of a snack.

A stout Greylag Goose wades ashore, after a swim.

Beyond the shelter of the creek, a spirited southerly wind blows. Twenty five to thirty knots. It sends white horses leaping over the sheltering spit, at the entrance.

Out in the river, windsurfers sport . Scything their boards through fully planing carve gybes, in a welter of spray. 'Shredding.'

I shelter in a leafy lane, shared with a songsmith Blackbird. (Bottom right)

It leads me up to Levington Village. . . .

. . . .and on to the Ship Inn. Its, neatly thatched, roof casting shadows on its, freshly painted, walls, in the lunchtime sun.

Out of Lockdown 20

 

It would be hard to say which of us is the more surprised, the goose, or I. We both stand stock still, startled, heads raised, staring at one another. I have come on the family, of Canada Geese, as I round a bend on the sea wall. Behind their mother, a brood of yellow and grey downed goslings feed, oblivious to the potential for danger, which I represent.

Mother knows better. Together with her mate, which has suddenly appeared from the foot of the slope, she swiftly shepherds her family away from the path. Putting a safe distance between themselves and the shore.

Once out in the tidal lagoon, their pace slackens. The goslings fan out, jink right and left in play. The parents strain their long necks, to keep one eye on the goslings and one on me. I tiptoe past, as slowly and unobtrusively as I can.

The lagoons have been created by breaching a section of the sea wall and adding sluices, to control water levels. The result is a sheltered area which contains a mixture of salt marsh and open water. An ideal habitat for breeding birds and Sunday anglers alike.

A bridle path leads up from the dyke.

Through well tilled and tended arable farmland.

And out onto the main street of Trimley St Martin.

I top up Stargazer's stores in the village shop.

Meanwhile, back by the river, the weather is settling. Sunday racing is in full swing. The forecasts, for the week ahead, are looking promising and the tides are coming fair.

Out of Lockdown 19

 

I scan the news feeds eagerly. Tune in to the BBC. Grant Shapps, Transport Secretary, has called a news conference. What hand will he deal us, for our summer cruise? Which countries will be on the UK Green List, of permitted leisure travel destinations, this summer?

Evocative island destinations abound: St Helena, Tristan de Cunha, Ascension, The Falklands, South Georgia. The list goes on. All distant mid ocean stopovers, beyond Stargazer's reach.

I search in vain for our favourite landfalls: France and Ireland. Portugal is included (although it is not currently admitting leisure travellers, either to the mainland or to the Azores) as is Gibraltar. Both are within reach, of a concerted summer-long cruise, but with an over-winter stay required, before returning the following season. That option now complicated by the, post-Brexit, Schengen stay limit (ninety days in any rolling one hundred and eighty days) and by the difficulty in reaching either, with French ports pronounced off limits.

,

A visit to The Cruising Association website lifts my spirits. As things stood, sailors were required to enter, or leave, France only via one of the ferry ports; and by seeking out the Police aux Frontieres, in town or in the ferry terminal, during working hours, to manually present documents and fill forms. In practice, highly restrictive to a boat on passage. An on line process, permitting access or egress through any French port is now being rolled out, with a pilot scheme already started in Le Havre . Welcome news. . . . . .for the future.

For now, yesterday's bucolic tranquility has been banished. It is a day to sit below, contemplating. With that special snug and secure feeling, brought by being warm and dry whilst, outside, rain drums on Stargazer's deck and the wind whistles in her rigging. I consider our options, for this summer's cruise. At the end of the month I will received my second vaccination. We will be free to set sail.

 The wind, warmer now, from the south, is due to drop over the next couple of days. The sun to return. Bringing the opportunity to explore the enticing paths, winding away into the countryside. Whilst we wait for the tides to come fair, for the next leg of this shakedown cruise. South to the Essex shore.