Thursday 5th June 2008Between our mooring at Peter Leonard Marine and the open sea was the swing bridge, which restricts its openings to just before and after high tide, so we were only able to get under way at 1pm - we left surrounded by a fleet of little yachts, but we quickly parted ways as we sailed past Newhaven Marina and made our way down the coast.The wind was blowing a gentle 3 from the West, and the sun was shining - perfect conditions for Jacob in open water. We spent a glorious day, rounding Beachy Head at 3pm, and then staring at Dungeness as it approached us painstakingly slowly for the next 7 hours. Eventually, at 10pm, we put it behind us, and put on a few extra layers of clothing for the night watch.
The twinkling lights of Folkestone, Dover and Deal floated eerily past in the black, the wind got up a bit and there was some mild fog. East Sussex and Kent radio cheered us up with some jazz for a while, but we were starting to get thoroughly cold and damp at 4am daybreak, so Ramsgate seemed a good place to head into and get some shut-eye.
Sunday 8th June 2008
And Ramsgate was where we stayed for the next 3 days. It rained solidly, and the fog was horrendous, which is unpleasant for travelling and dangerous for crossing the Thames estuary - instead we explored Ramsgate. The consensus was that it was a lovely seaside town (even in the drizzle), although could do with a bit more TLC: the harbour wall was impressive, and we had a very enjoyable drink in the Royal Temple Yacht Club, from the window of which we could sit and admire Jacob, and look out at weather raging at sea.
Finally, on Sunday, we were able to push on. We moved over to the fuel barge to refill our tank at 1pm, and had an exciting moment getting off it as we reversed backwards and our stern was caught by the current and swung round towards some very expensive-looking powerboats. The trick in these kind of situations is to pretend to the rest of the world like you're intentionally following a carefully executed plan: a large burst in forwards and some heavy-handedness with the rudder, and we swung round in a perfect circle, missing the boats to port and the fuel barge to starboard, and chugged off in forwards out of the marina. The crowd watching us in the cafe nearby must have been very impressed.
Visibility was still a little on the poor side, but with a force 3 northeasterly and not a cloud in the sky, we left Ramsgate at 1.40pm to cross the Thames estuary, hoping upon hope that we weren't mown down by an enormous tanker looming out of the mist. In fact, we came across three tankers, all very close together, and, after having slowed down, changed course and strained our eyes looking through the binoculars for half an hour, we discovered that they were anchored. We carried on past, taking advantage of their stationary position to have a good look at these beasts of vessels.
The wind dropped to practically nothing at 3pm and the sea became dead calm, so in order to relieve the boredom our GPS decided to entertain us by stopping. Not to panic, we had a spare, but we fiddled with it for an hour anyway before replacing it entirely. The mist worsened, despite the sun, and Jacob pushed his way through the mirrored surface of the water as we ticked off the buoys on our path: Elbow, Outer Tongue, Long Sand Inner, Black Deep 2, Sunk Head Tower, NE Gunfleet, Medusa. They sounded as if we'd sailed into a Pirates of the Caribbean sequel - Johnny Depp was sure to turn up at any moment. We reached Harwich and the Port of Felixstowe as the sun was going down at 9.30pm, the giant crane monsters silhouetted dramatically against the red of the sky.
Monday 9th June 2008
We left our berth at the Halfpenny Pier at 11.30am, waving goodbye to the gentlemen with the traditional sailing yacht, who we learned had made the same journey as us from Shoreham to Ramsgate to Harwich, in the same time frame. With some trepidation we crept through busy Felixstowe port, and slipped down the East Anglian coastline in yet more sunshine.
At 1.30pm we reached the bar at Felixstowe Ferry. Unfortunately this was not the kind of bar we could sip a pint in, but was instead an infamous bank of very solid shingle, the bane of the Suffolk dinghy-racing community, and was feared by two of our crew who knew only to well what could happen in these rough waters to the inexperienced mariner who crossed the bar at the wrong time, in the wrong place, or in the wrong weather. Our final crewmember remained blissfully ignorant as Jacob's rudder pulled in the swell of the current and we were buffeted to and fro just a couple of metres above the ridge of the bar. Years of practice in boats a fifth of Jacob's size served us well, though, and we entered the Felixstowe Ferry moorings, passed the Horse buoy, commenting on the games of cricket played on the Horse Sand in the middle of the river, and, despite this being Jacob's first trip up the Deben, it felt very much like a homecoming.
A mere hop, skip and a jump down the river we anchored at the Rocks for an hour or so, as we had to wait for the tide to have enough water to enter our berth at Woodbridge. One crewmember went out in a tiny inflatable dinghy to clean up some rusty patches, the others sunned themselves on deck. At 4pm we upped anchor, passed through the moorings at Waldringfield, wound our way round the channel buoys at Troublesome Reach, treaded softly through the moorings at Woodbridge, and rounded the corner at Robertsons boatyard at 5.30pm. We berthed at Robertsons quay, secured the lines, and went off in hunt of supper.
Finally, on Sunday, we were able to push on. We moved over to the fuel barge to refill our tank at 1pm, and had an exciting moment getting off it as we reversed backwards and our stern was caught by the current and swung round towards some very expensive-looking powerboats. The trick in these kind of situations is to pretend to the rest of the world like you're intentionally following a carefully executed plan: a large burst in forwards and some heavy-handedness with the rudder, and we swung round in a perfect circle, missing the boats to port and the fuel barge to starboard, and chugged off in forwards out of the marina. The crowd watching us in the cafe nearby must have been very impressed.
 |
| Crossing the Thames estuary. Keep a good lookout! |
The wind dropped to practically nothing at 3pm and the sea became dead calm, so in order to relieve the boredom our GPS decided to entertain us by stopping. Not to panic, we had a spare, but we fiddled with it for an hour anyway before replacing it entirely. The mist worsened, despite the sun, and Jacob pushed his way through the mirrored surface of the water as we ticked off the buoys on our path: Elbow, Outer Tongue, Long Sand Inner, Black Deep 2, Sunk Head Tower, NE Gunfleet, Medusa. They sounded as if we'd sailed into a Pirates of the Caribbean sequel - Johnny Depp was sure to turn up at any moment. We reached Harwich and the Port of Felixstowe as the sun was going down at 9.30pm, the giant crane monsters silhouetted dramatically against the red of the sky.
Monday 9th June 2008
We left our berth at the Halfpenny Pier at 11.30am, waving goodbye to the gentlemen with the traditional sailing yacht, who we learned had made the same journey as us from Shoreham to Ramsgate to Harwich, in the same time frame. With some trepidation we crept through busy Felixstowe port, and slipped down the East Anglian coastline in yet more sunshine.At 1.30pm we reached the bar at Felixstowe Ferry. Unfortunately this was not the kind of bar we could sip a pint in, but was instead an infamous bank of very solid shingle, the bane of the Suffolk dinghy-racing community, and was feared by two of our crew who knew only to well what could happen in these rough waters to the inexperienced mariner who crossed the bar at the wrong time, in the wrong place, or in the wrong weather. Our final crewmember remained blissfully ignorant as Jacob's rudder pulled in the swell of the current and we were buffeted to and fro just a couple of metres above the ridge of the bar. Years of practice in boats a fifth of Jacob's size served us well, though, and we entered the Felixstowe Ferry moorings, passed the Horse buoy, commenting on the games of cricket played on the Horse Sand in the middle of the river, and, despite this being Jacob's first trip up the Deben, it felt very much like a homecoming.
A mere hop, skip and a jump down the river we anchored at the Rocks for an hour or so, as we had to wait for the tide to have enough water to enter our berth at Woodbridge. One crewmember went out in a tiny inflatable dinghy to clean up some rusty patches, the others sunned themselves on deck. At 4pm we upped anchor, passed through the moorings at Waldringfield, wound our way round the channel buoys at Troublesome Reach, treaded softly through the moorings at Woodbridge, and rounded the corner at Robertsons boatyard at 5.30pm. We berthed at Robertsons quay, secured the lines, and went off in hunt of supper.
