There can be no doubt that we are both seriously conflicted about this next leg of the trip from Hull to Brancaster. Home.

On one level it will be great to get back to sea after a week in port, but once we get back to Norfolk our trip will be over, and we will have to return to our land locked winter lives. The inevitable change of the seasons help, at the moment the weather is fine but as each week goes by the days will get shorter, the seas will get steeper, the wind will blow harder and the temperatures will get colder. Whenever each of us comments about what we will do when we get back it is seen as a betrayal by the other.

The Met Office however has granted us a 48 hour window in the relentless northerlies so the time has come for Flamingo to fly south. We are determined to enjoy this last bit of sailing so have broken the trip down into two sections. Firstly we will sail 20nm down the Humber to Tetney Haven, then tomorrow morning we will have an early start for the remaining 40nm back to Brancaster.

There is no value in sailing against the tide in the Humber, where the water goes, you go. My plan is to be in the lock by 1400hrs so that we can be out by high water at 1430hrs, catching the ebb all the way to Tetney Haven. Tetney Haven is a drying area of sand south of Cleethorpes, administered by Humber Mouth Yacht Club, where we hope to pick up a drying  mooring so that we can get a quiet night’s zsleep.

We have an elaborate pilotage plan for this passage, including light phases for the buoys, plus waypoints all the way around the Donna Nook bombing range and back to Brancaster. This is in case our anchorage is untennable and we have to sail through the night back to Brancaster. The overnight contingency back to Brancaster has been discussed and is a very real part of this plan.

At 1330hrs a very odd thing occurs, the crew announces that she will not be ready to slip our lines at the planned 1345hrs. This really is odd, we are always ready on time. We have had such a lovely time provisioning in Hull this morning that we have not got back into sailing mode at all.

At 1410hrs our radio operator calls to request a lock out, only to be told that HMS Something is in the lock and we will have to wait. Once in the lock, waiting for the levels to even out we chat to a couple of old boys watching the boats come and go, we tell them where we are headed and then one of them enquires if it is it a good idea to set off on Friday 13th?. This is a massive oversight on a vessel where bananas and members of the clergy are banned, and where the crew will only leave a pub by the same door that they came in. Trouble will find you on a boat at sea, you don’t need to go looking for it.

By the time that we are out through the lock we are already 30 minutes behind schedule, but it is of no concern, we have no way of knowing when we can get into Tetney Haven so we can’t be late for an unknown deadline.

In south-westerly F3 winds we sail under full main but keep the genoa partly rolled simply to aid visibility, Flamingo will stand full sail but we really need to be able to see what is going on around us in “one of the world’s most difficult rivers”.

We have all of our ducks lined up when Belinda calls VTS Humber on Ch12 but they don’t seem to be that interested, even in our plan to cross the river opposite Grimsby.

With a fair wind and plenty of sail we are soon making good boat speed but something is clearly amiss. It appears that east Yorkshire is heading in the same direction as us, because despite making over four knots through the water, the Humber Tavern is disappearing astern very slowly. There is a lot of river above Hull and this is obviously still filling, robbing us of our expected fair tide.

For a while we discuss our options but in the end settle on a plan, we will sail as fast or slow as wind and tide allow, and when we arrive at Tetney we will decide what to do next.

The poor old Humber feels like the chubby bridesmaid at a wedding; under clear sunny skies, with a fair wind and benign sea state it is still never going to be the Deben, or the Forth, or even the Thames. The water swirls like diluted mud, the refineries are grim rather than grand and the buoyage is numbered 19a, 19, 17….. not poetic names like Fagbury, Mucking Flats or Inchcolme.

Despite the lack of poetry it is a lovely serene sail, we are slow, we know we are slow, but in the absence of a deadline who cares. Lovely relaxed sailing. As we approach our proposed crossing point between the Sunk Spit Cardinal, and the No.8 Port Hand Buoy the commercial shipping parts like the red-sea and we are able to cross without a care. Even VTS Humber seem to have lost interest in our plans.

Past Grimsby and approaching Clee Ness Sands we are pushed north into the river to avoid the shoals and overfalls as the river approaches the open sea, where it has been blowing hard from the north for a week. By the time that we reach Haile Sand Fort at the entrance to Tetney Haven it has become quite choppy, but after a brief committee meeting we decide that we’d prefer a rolly night at anchor than a night sail. All the way down the river we have been speculating about how late we could get into Tetney and on to a drying mooring. By the time we arrive it is low water and our chance has passed, a lumpy night at anchor it is. I know at this point that one of our readers is shouting ‘Grimsby’ at his screen but I’m just too tight to spend £20 on the lock getting in, £25 on the marina and another £20 getting out through the lock. And I know that the crew agrees.

By 1850hrs we have the anchor firmly dug in with Haile Sand Fort two cables to the north-west and a dangerous wreck two cables to the south-east.

Haile Sand Fort, and its companion Bull Sand Fort were commissioned to defend the Humber at the start of WWI. Haile Sand Fort was finished just before the war ended. Both forts were recommissioned at the start of WWII, each housed anti aircraft artillery and an anti submarine net was stretched between them.

After a dinner of leftover quiche from Trinity Market we settled down to a rolly night with our anchor securely embedded in Lincolnshire sand.

Mercifully, and unexpectedly the sea state settles and we manage to get some good quality sleep, aided by the fact that I have discovered an anchor alarm on the GPS set that will alert us if the anchor drags. Anchored where we are, close to a wreck and Haile Sand Fort this is doubly important.

Once again we are up at 0530hrs ready for a 0600 hrs start. Like many estranged couples sharing a house, I get the outside and Belinda gets the inside. First thing to check on deck is that Haile Sand Fort is exactly where we left it, the wreck is skulking just below the waves so I can’t check that. Initially I refuse to photograph the sunrise because in the era of digital photo editing nobody is going to believe that it is an honest photo, but it is, honest.

Having anchored just inshore of the Bull Anchorage we are hemmed in by the bright lights of a number of anchored vessels awaiting their turn to head up the Humber to dock.

The anchor comes up so easily that we needn’t have started the engine, and by 0600 we are underway, sailing under full white sails towards the DZ No.3 buoy at the corner of Donna Nook bombing range.

Below I have included a plot of this passage to illustrate the seesawing procession of diligent seamanship interspersed with amateur hour cockups that characterise today’s passage.

The forecast is for SW winds F3-4, this promises us a workmanlike close reach outside Donna Nook and the windfarm off Skegness and on to Brancaster. Navigationally very simple, three waypoints. Going outside Donna Nook is probably not necessary as it will be closed over the weekend but it doesn’t add much to our passage distance.

As soon as we are clear of the protection of the river we know that we are in home waters, the sea adopts its usual shallow water chop, almost completely free from swell, just like Norfolk. By 0630hrs we realise that the wind is blowing from the south, or south-of-south-west at best. There is a hint of this in this morning’s forecast but it spells problems for us, we will struggle to lay the course on this wind, and there isn’t time to beat 40nm to Brancaster. Good sense at this point suggests that we should stay as far to the west as we can and with luck the wind will veer later in the day.

Our first good decision is to cut through the bombing range, this will save us going four miles offshore which would take a lot of clawing back. It’s at this point that Belinda accidentally calls Humber Coastguard’s bluff.

We know that the range should be closed because we have checked their website, the next step is to call them on Ch16, there is no reply because they are closed. The final step is to call Humber CG on Ch16, we know that they will be non committal, just saying that they have not heard from Donna Nook; to be fair to them they can’t say its closed, they only know that it hasn’t opened (semantics I know).

With this non-answer from the Coastguard Belinda thanks them and calls “Flamingo out”. Two minutes later they call back to check our plans and suggest that we “proceed with caution”. This seems like good advice in a bombing range littered with targets and shoals.

Once settled on our course we find that we can about make 170°, now with one reef in and some genoa rolled. This will allow us to pass between the wind farm and Skegness, and once round the bottom of the windfarm we can bear away to have more power, and easier sailing through the big waves that will no doubt be rolling out of the Wash. The passage plan that I wrote a couple of days ago shows HW Brancaster as 1426hrs, with an optimal arrival time of 1400hrs and a latest arrival of 1600hrs. 

Sailing closer to the wind than planned our boatspeed is a bit slow, plus we are not getting the expected benefit from the south-going tide this close to the shore. The inshore route also takes us through Theddlethorpe and Trussthorpe Overfalls, they are not dramatic but it slows us further and it’s tiring. Despite the forecast the wind blows F5 gusting to F6 all day and we can feel ourselves slipping behind schedule. The sea is now quite lumpy and we don’t fancy another night at anchor, there is a danger that we are going to miss our tide gate at Brancaster.

By 1215hrs we realise that we are now badly behind, our only option is to change course to 150° and sail straight through the windfarm, direct for Brancaster. Sailing through the windfarm shouldn’t be an issue, we are allowed to pass through any completed windfarm and the turbines are 500m apart so it shouldn’t be difficult to avoid a collision.

As soon as we ease sheets onto a close reach our boat speed increases to over 5kts, plus we are suddenly gaining much more from the tide. All of a sudden the  numbers make sense, we can easily make our tide gate at Brancaster. We are now pretty consistently over powered and could really do with another reef, but I’m reluctant to tie one in while we are constrained by the turbines. Working through the turbines requires a lot of concentration, we are not sailing straight down one of the 500m wide ‘lanes’ but jigging diagonally from lane to lane. In open water the set and drift of the tide virtually go unnoticed, but here they push you towards a collision that would undermine your reputation in the club bar and with your insurers.

In under an hour we are through the windfarm and into open water, the waves rolling out of the Wash are one and a half metres at times but it all makes for an exhilarating sail, more so for the skipper than the crew I suspect. The waves are hitting Flamingo beam on and lifting her ready to surge down into the next valley; occasionally a breaking wave lifts us and then fizzes away to leeward.

We can now see Brancaster, journeys end, we will be on time. I’m having so much fun that it dawns on me far too slowly that something is amiss. We should be being set to the east quite a lot by the tide but we’re not. Also its a lovely sunny Saturday with perfect sailing conditions, but where are the sails, surely someone must be out? There is supposed to be dinghy racing, plus a couple of cruisers have said that they will be out to meet us.

Far far too slowly realisation hits, “can you check the tide time please?”. High Water at Brancaster is 1626hrs, not 1426hrs! It’s all there in the passage plan, written two days ago, we just haven’t checked it, neither of us. There is no blame (beyond the fact that the skipper is always accountable), its just a mistake to learn from.  We have been over-canvassed and over-powered for most of the day because we were chasing an incorrect deadline; schoolboy error. We have even ripped out one of the spray dodgers by sailing with it underwater!

It is a  emotional landfall and as we finally creep into the outer harbour the sails begin to appear. Aurora give us a lovely cheery wave as they pass but a shout of “welcome home” from Kerygma nearly tips us over the edge. We’ve done it, we’re not sure what we have done, but whatever it is we have done it, it’s over, we’re home.

Our plan for the evening was to walk ashore for the ticker-tape and bunting reception being held in our honour at the club, but with high water two hours later than expected we elect to retire early where we sleep the sleep of the righteous.

On Sunday morning we head up to the club for showers and to fulfil an appointment; we have been invited out for lunch. The ticker-tape from last night appears to have been cleared away very quickly, or maybe there wasn’t any, maybe nobody cares except us, it was after all our little adventure.

We eat lunch on the terrace in lovely warm sunshine, banished outdoors by the Brancaster Sea Shanty Festival indoors. Sadly we didn’t get the memo about blue and white hoopy tops and red neckerchiefs so we look a bit underdressed in our civvies. Over lunch we discover that our host, (who still hasn’t let Grimsby go) along with a great many other people do care about our trip. I am not at all comfortable with praise, deflecting it like Geoffrey Boycott at his best, but it isn’t praise, it feels like pride. It feels like the club that has mentored us to this point where we are able to tackle this kind of challenge is proud of what we have done.

Nobody seems interested in my protestations that “its just a load of day-sails….”

Hull, much like Spain, will be nice when it’s finished. At the current rate of progress it looks like being a photo finish sometime in the early 2050s.

Visitors are best advised to stick to the bit of the city that is finished, the bit that was finished between one and three hundred years ago. This is the old town and Museum Quarter on the banks of the river Hull. It retains its ancient street layout, complete with cobbles along with many outstanding pubs, buildings and museums.

Many of the streets however have gaps amongst the historic buildings, each containing incongruous modern buildings or worse, little car parks. These pulled teeth, in Hulls otherwise dishevelled English smile were extracted by Herman Göering’s Luftwaffe. Hull took a battering in WWII and the evidence is everywhere to be seen even now.

After the old town comes the current town centre, complete with the usual dismal shopping arcades and ubiquitous shops that characterise every modern English high street. Dotted about in this depressing wasteland however are many architectural gems, including the soon to be re-opened maritime museum.

Beyond these two areas lies ‘bandit country’ an area best visited on Google.

Strong northerly winds trap us in Hull for a week, but lying twenty miles inland we don’t feel the effects which is pleasant but frustrating. Although perhaps geographically less interesting, Hull matches Newcastle-Upon-Tyne for history, architecture, culture and food; it’s great place to get stuck, if you’re going to get stuck anywhere.

Trinity House opens on four or five Mondays each year, and fortunately we hit one of those Mondays. A charity dating back to 1369, based in a Grade 1 listed building, the two hour tour was fascinating and conducted by genuine knowledgeable Humber mariners. Sadly we weren’t allowed to take photographs but it is well worth a visit to their website, or even better to visit in person. Regrettably, due to my secondary-modern education and subsequent failure to grow up, the highlight for me was the stained glass window in the Chapel showing a very camp looking Jesus mincing his way into heaven.

On the way up the river I spotted a tiny lighthouse, linked to what looked like a row of Coastguard cottages, along with an interesting looking pub. These turned out to be in a tiny village called Paull, nestled between power stations, chemical works and jetties on the north bank of the river. This all looked like it might be worth a visit, so armed with Google Maps and the Bromptons we set off. This really wasn’t one of our better decisions, we got lost repeatedly, the scenery was dismal, as was the weather, and when we finally got there the Humber Tavern was indeed ‘interesting’. Another Slaughtered Lamb moment.

Back at the boat I wondered aloud how an American lady ended up running the Humber Tavern in Paull,  “no,” Belinda replied “she was Welsh; or Irish”. We really do need to start paying attention. To be fair to the Humber Tavern the welcome was warm, the beer was local, good and cheap, and the food was home cooked; we folded the bikes up and got the bus back to the boat.

Between the marina and Hull Old Town there is a pedestrian bridge that crosses the perpetual roadworks on the A63, Clive Sullivan Way. From the boat we often heard the honking of horns, especially the deep tone of a big truck horn. The cause of the noise was families gathering on the bridge to wave at the traffic. We couldn’t believe that we had been missing out on this free entertainment, when we drive up to Hull we usually pay to see a show or an opera at Hull New Theatre.

Central to the Old Town is Trinity Market, similar to the market that we visited in Scarborough. Alongside the traditional green grocers, butchers, bakers and cobblers there are lots of little businesses such as a seamstress and electrical repairs. The southern edge of the market, which looks out over Hull Minster and the historic Trinity Square is given over to an area of seating and tables. This is surrounded by hawker style street food bars providing fantastic street food from around the world. Finally there is a stage which hosts local musicians and performers. We shop for provisions and eat here regularly, and consistent with our experience this summer, the best food that we eat comes from the little pop-up restaurants. Trinity Market is a proper community hub that typifies Hull’s ambition.

In Lincoln we used to live near the Cathedral, but now we live in the Cathedral Quarter, it makes it sound more historical I guess. We managed to take in two of the museums in Hull’s Museum Quarter, our favourite was the Streetlife Museum which exhibited trams and trains and cars from past eras. Best of all was the fact that you could sit in the trams, and visit the signal box and play the games in the fairground. The upper floor was devoted to a display of ancient bicycles, it was boring, even for us keen cyclists. A demonstration of Hull’s former wealth was an exhibit showing how many of the streets were paved with wood, to reduce the noise of the horses hooves and stop them slipping and sparking.

We saved the William Wilberforce Museum for last and set aside a full morning for it, but for us it was a bit of a disappointment. It seems to be aimed fairly and squarely at school parties, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It all felt a bit ‘John Craven’s News Round’. It did afford me an opportunity to send some photos to my son in Bristol, where they are busy pulling their statues down, trying to re-write history. Hull made it’s money far more honourably, whaling.

It’s hard to believe that we haven’t sailed to Hull before now, it’s a fantastic city and it is clear that the City Council, and the people of Hull believe in their city and have ambition for it. We will be back, next month in the car to see Shed 7, and next year with Flamingo.

True to it’s claim Hull also turned out to be Britain’s Cheapest Port at £160 for eight nights.

Now we need to find our way out of here.

At 0555hrs on Tuesday 3rd of September we slip our lines in Scarborough harbour, for the last leg of our trip back to Norfolk via Spurn Point. Before sunrise but with a brightening sky the harbour looks beautiful with the boats and lights of the town reflected in the mirror flat water. I commented that it is hard to leave with it looking like this, we have had a great time. The crew enquires whether we could ‘just stay’ and for a second I’m tempted, but no, it’s time to move on.

By 0630hrs we are broad reaching in 8kts of breeze, making the required 4kts of boat speed. The wind forecast however suggests that we are going to need the engine intermintently throughout the passage if we are to make Spurn Point at all. If intermittently means on and off, then the description is apt because by 0640hrs the engine goes on and runs consistently  until 1715hrs when it goes off again.

By 0800hrs the pattern for the day is set, we are motoring in mirror flat seas with the tillerpilot steering. We hand steer through more challenging areas where there are lots of pots, or where the residual swell becomes too much for the electronic steering to cope.

The first of these hand steering areas is off Filey, where lots of local crab boats are out tending their pots. In the early sunshine the scene beneath the cliffs is beautiful, so I share a thought that has been running through my head all morning. ‘Have we given up on our trip too soon?’ ‘Yes’ is the crew’s emphatic answer ‘I didn’t want to go back to Norfolk yet’.

Following an outline planning meeting we agree that after Spurn Point we will head up the Humber to Hull for the first time. The detail of how we will achieve this will be filled in later. At this point it is clear that if we get to Spurn Point by about 1700hrs, we could go up to Hull tonight, but it would make this a 75nm passage, and our pilotage up the Humber will need to be very precise and take some planning; not ideal at the end of a very long day.

But for now we need to enjoy today’s passage. One of the things that I learned on the way up here from Paul and Mark, in their Swallow Bay Cruiser Grace, is that a day motoring is a beautiful day on the water, not a missed sailing opportunity. Gradually the weight of our decision to head home early is lifted, I think that it has dawned on both of us that despite the many difficulties of living on a small boat, we love this lifestyle.

Our first practical obstacle is Flamborough Head, we have had half a knot of fair tide pushing us along up to this point, but it is set to turn foul around 0900hrs as we pass the headland. We have to manoeuvre to avoid a beautiful wooden Yorkshire Cobble laying pots (I regret not getting a photo). His movements are unpredictable and at times like this it is easy to make the assumption that they are being deliberately difficult, but once he drops his pots he gives us a cheery wave. It is interesting to compare these boats with Norfolk crabbing boats, both are designed for the same job in very similar environments but despite  both designs being double ended they couldn’t be more different.

The pilot book recommends giving the headland a two mile offing to avoid any overfalls, but we can easily deduce from the fishing boats inshore that there are no overfalls in this slack tide and no wind, so we take the shortcut.

Wrong! Over the space of five minutes the tide turns against us up to a rate of over 2.5kts! The crab pot buoys have all disappeared, dragged underwater by the tide, we spot some of them three or four feet under the water as we pass them. This is all quite alarming but we know what to do, we know that it will pass so we plug on and are soon clear of the waves, but the tide remains stubbornly against at around two knots for two hours.

Mindful of the fact that this will be a 12 hour passage, and that we may extend it to a 15 hour passage we take it in turns to sleep, or at least go off watch. During Belinda’s first off watch period a coastguard helicopter carries out a search pattern from Flamborough Head southwards. There has been nothing from the Coastguard on Ch16 so our help or cooperation is clearly not needed.

After the helicopter departs the autohelm steers 160°, and the motor chugs out 5kts of boat speed for five hours as the tide slowly turns in our favour and our ‘speed over the ground’ increases, peaking at 7.8kts. The surface of the sea is like a distorting mirror in the ‘fun house’ on the pier, with the reflections broken and distorted by a very long one foot high swell. Very occasionally we press the ‘dodge’ buttons on the tillerpilot to avoid a  crab pot, but basically we spend a very pleasant afternoon in the late summer sun, with the occasional fishing boat to enhance the view.

It turns into one of those hazy afternoons where the sky and sea merge into one blue grey mass. One thing that we notice is that the echo sounder shows the depth to be 20 or 21 metres all the way from Flamborough Head, almost to Spurn Point. There are crab pots all along this coast but they are isolated, I speculate as to what the sea bed looks like; sand I imagine, but there must be rocks too.

Two windfarms give a good visual reference point as we approach Spurn Point, where we will enter the jurisdiction of the notorious VTS Humber. I have already heard them in action, an inbound vessel is calling them on Ch16 (they will be monitoring Ch16) and they have completely blanked him; they are on Ch14.

By now there are tiny ripples indicating that we may get some breeze but mostly the sea remains glassy, creating some curious reflections on the surface of the water.

Leisure craft are advised to contact VTS Humber but it is not mandatory. However we feel that it is best that they know who we are, where we are and what our intentions are. With about three miles to run to Spurn Head our radio operator contacts them, we have prepared. VTS Humber are professional, brief and thorough; Belinda enjoys the exchanges because they use very correct language, “Question: how may persons aboard?”, ” Question: are you the vessel 1.5nm north of N E Checker?”. We are given very precise instructions as to what course to follow, and when to call back for our next set of instructions.

The tidal flows in the Humber are the stuff of legend and even before we reach Spurn Head the sea state is very aggitated and the current relentless. I am having  to steer 180° to make my course of 150°. As we approach the point we get permission to continue to the anchorage and given instructions to maintain a watch on Ch14, at all times. We have very clear instructions not to stray into the Traffic Separation Scheme, which runs close to the point so we squeeze through perilously close to the beach and breaking waves.

Once into the anchorage proper the sea state calms a little but it’s not what we expected. It is a huge area and offers little protection from the wind, which is suddenly blowing F4 from the north west. How we could have used that wind earlier. There is reputed to be one visiting yacht bouy and one RNLI buoy. We can only find one and it’s huge, metal and clearly not intended for leisure craft. So after some quick tide height calculations we anchor in 5.5m of water, calculating that this will keep us afloat at the next low water, which it does. But not the following low water, which we have failed to consider. Still, that’s the joy of having a lift keel.

From here we have three options to get to Hull: carry on this evening; an early start 0500hrs in the morning or head up tomorrow evening. Carrying on now looks attractive, the anchorage has chopped up in the freshening northerly breeze, but we are tired and I am not sure that I can manage the complex pilotage plan without quite a lot of reading. I favour an early start tomorrow, we will be in the marina not long after breakfast but we would have to be up early again and set off in the dark. The final option  favoured by the crew is to head up tomorrow evening, it will be getting dark by the time that we have arrived but it will be well lit in the city centre, this is the option that we choose.

So now we have 24hrs at anchor to enjoy Spurn Point, which with its sandy spit and two lighthouses is certainly picturesque as sun sets.

Bizarrely, looking south across the estuary we can see the Lincolnshire coast, this reminds us both that we have made the right decision to continue our adventure, we are not ready to go back just yet. One of the great joys of sailing is planning and delivering a great passage together, and we have done that today. We also have to deal with the elephant in the room, is this redemption for the overheating engine? It has run for eleven hours continuously today, surely that’s enough? But tomorrow it has to tackle 20nm up the very congested and closely monitored river Humber. VTS Humber now have a radar target labelled Flamingo, currently anchored just off their control centre on the point, if we mess up, they will know, and let us know.

As instructed we maintain a watch on VHF Ch14 which is the working channel for the outer estuary; this is where boats wait for permission to enter, it is also where pilots embark and disembark. It is fascinating to listen in, the exchanges on the radio are relentless as is the traffic. There is a constant flow of big commercial vessels, pilot boats, tugs and leisure craft in and out of the river. At one point there are five big vessels, three inbound and two outbound passing right in front of us. Gradually we begin to understand why VTS are so strident, this makes Fekixstowe look like the boating pond in the park.

A night at anchor can be a very fine thing, but not this night, and not here. Despite the forecast, the wind blows at 15 to 20kts straight down the river so the rig moans in the wind and Flamingo rolls about miserably. It’s not dangerous, it’s just not much fun. Spurn Point only offers decent protection from the wind if its from the north east, and this is no place to be in north  easterlies.

We manage to get some reasonable sleep, interspersed with checks to see that the anchor has held. By the morning conditions are miserable, wind and tide are holding us beam on to the waves which are slashing into the port bow, so we stay in bed for a two cup-of-tea lie in. Matters have improved by the time we get up and I manage to prepare a top end all- day-breakfast, although there is panic for a moment when it appears that there are no baked beans in the larder.

With the breakfast pots cleared away I read the ‘Leisure Craft Guide to the Humber’ and prepare a 22 point pilotage plan. We are going to buoy hop up the river, I’m not entering 22 new waypoints! We will weigh anchor at 1630hrs with a view to arriving off Hull Marina Lock at 1930hrs, 45 minutes before high water. Tidal flows in the river will be between 2.5kts and 3.5kts all the way up and the wind is forecast northerly F3-4 so we could encounter the nasty wind against tide conditions that the Humber is notorious for. In flat water we can make this passage in two hours, but I’m allowing three hours because of the potential for it to be rough.

It is warm enough to sit in the cockpit and enjoy the view, with this, some lunch and a spell reading it is soon time to be underway. What looked like being a very long day has flown by, although I have noted that the crew looks weary but in good spirits.

At 1630hrs we start the engine and begin the process of recovering the anchor. I have taken to buoying the anchor, and although it adds a tier of complication to the process it proves to be a boon. With a visual guide to where the anchor is, Belinda is better able to use the engine to edge the boat toward it as I retrieve the chain. This takes sometime as I have laid our 25m of chain, giving us a 1:5 scope at high water. Now we need to take care that the bouy and its rope don’t end up under the boat or worse, wrapped round the propeller.

With the anchor stowed Belinda speaks to VTS Humber and in the excitement makes a complete hash of it, calling them Hull VTS, Humber VTS and finally, correctly VTS Humber. They seem to be OK about it and maybe its good not build up their expectations of your competency, this is our first time in the Humber. Our instructions are clear, and they match our plan, ‘stay north of the channel at all times’.

It feels like a passage from the 1960s as everything except Belinda’s bright pink oilies is grey, or brown at best. By 1700hrs we have the nav lights on. The sky is grey, the water is so muddy brown that looking at our wake gives the impression that the propeller is stirring up the river bed. Pilotage is simple, at each buoy we check its name, the plan then gives us a bearing to the next buoy which we follow. At the No.5a bouy we switch from Ch14 to Ch12 which is the working channel for this mid section of the river.

On some sections the river chops up with 12kts of wind blowing against 3.5kts of tide, here our speed through the water drops below 3kts. The tides, as expected are fierce but unless you look at the instruments, or a passing buoy there is little evidence that you are being swept up river.

Twice the river divides into to two channels then rejoins, but our plan serves us well and we remain north of the channel. Passing the petrochemical refineries at Immingham with their flare stacks blazing in the gloom reminds me of a similar passage that we made on the Hollands Diep near Rotterdam. The commercial shipping is relentless, big ships flying  up and down the river, this is by far the busiest river that we have ever been on.

As we approach our destination the north edge of the  channel merges with the quays so we now have to motor in the channel, close, but not too close to the jetties and moored ships. With 2.5nm to go in the growing gloom I decide that we can cut the corner, but soon notice that the red building ahead is getting bigger at a faster rate than the others, and it has a bow wave. A quick course correction has us back where we belong and there is no word from VTS.

Our radio call in point to book a lock coincides with the Siemens wind turbine factory where row upon row of turbine blades are laid out ready to be loaded onto barges and shipped offshore. As we approach the nearest half of the jetty lights up, because it is now getting very dark we assume. The lit section however follows us along the jetty, controlled by motion sensors perhaps.

We arrive at the lock in Hull two minutes late, on a three hour schedule, not bad.  The GPS shows the trip to be 20.2nm over the ground, yet we have covered only 12nm through the water, such is the strength of the tide.

The lock at Hull looks daunting from ashore, especially at low water, but arriving as we have at high water it is all rather civilised. Made even more so by the super cheery lock keeper who brings our berthing instructions, and asks how our day has been.  When we tell him about our night at Spurn Point he asks ‘why do people anchor there, its always bumpy’.

Much like Royal Quays Marina on Tyneside the lock here has quadrant gates but the water levels are equal so we are through in no time without drama.

By 2010hrs we are very neatly moored on the visitor pontoon and sat with a little glass of red. We are physically shattered, it is 36 hours since we last rested properly, but unlike at Scarborough we are mentally much stronger. We let the difficulties of the trip obscure the joy of living this nomadic maritime life. I think that a peek over the edge reminded us that we are not yet ready to go back to a life of straight lines and right angles in a house. That life rarely brings the sense of achievement that we feel tonight having navigated ‘one of the world’s most difficult rivers’.

Although at first glance Whitby has the edge over Scarborough (Scarbados as it is known locally) as a destination we feel that we have about exhausted Whitby. It is extremely picturesque, a photographer’s dream location, and the light in the morning and evening are beautiful. There is however only so much  to do here. We can’t complain about the crowds, we are part of that problem, but crowds bring the inevitable shops selling seaside rock, fish & chips, overpriced seafood and tat. It is lovely, it is pretty and there is about a day’s worth here.

Our next destination is Scarborough, and this trip is making me anxious, because there doesn’t seem to be anything to be anxious about. High Water at Whitby is 1335hrs so we can transit the bridge any time between 1135 and 1525hrs; the forecast is SW F3-4, a lovely beam reach; and at the Scarborough end we plan to anchor in the bay, so no time or tide constraints there. The passage is only 16nm so we can leave anytime we like, if the wind is light we can sail slowly, if not we’ll reef down knowing that in the lee of the land the sea state will not kick up. If we get to Scarborough and it’s not comfortable to anchor in the bay we will be able to go into the harbour by 2200hrs to get some sleep.

We slip our lines on a lovely sunny morning and head down to wait for the bridge to open at 1135hrs, inbound traffic has priority over outbound unless they open both spans of the bridge,which they rarely seem to do. Once the bridge is open the three inbound vessels are all farting about in the harbour, the yacht that has been relentlessly calling Whitby Bridge on the radio to demand an opening time hasn’t even slipped her lines, and the queue of cars stuck at the open bridge is growing inexorably.

Eventually the bridge keeper beckons us through, making the other three wait, so I fear that we have upset yet more people in Whitby.

By 1200hrs we are clear of the harbour, past my ‘Dracula’ waypoint and round the cardinal buoy that keeps you clear of the ‘nasty bush’ (rocks) to the east of the entrance.

It is blowing a steady 15-20kts so with two reefs tied in, and half of the genoa rolled we have a lovely beam reach down towards Scarborough Bay, in the broken sunshine. We stay outside the 20m depth line to avoid the worst of the crab pots but still have to be vigilant. Shortly after lunch we spot a minke whale heading north, shortly followed by three more, we had hoped to see some wildlife as we head south but this is a big bonus. Shortly after the fourth whale we spot a commotion of birds and what appear to be dolphins ahead, so we harden up and sail over to have a look. It turns out to be about 20 seals but they are going crazy, jumping out of the water and making all manner of fuss. This is turning into a wildlife bonanza day.

The wind has been gusting to 24kts at times, which is F6, not the forecast F3-4, but with two reefs in we are snug. Throughout this east coast adventure we have gratefully noted that with the wind blowing off the land the sea state stubbornly refuses to chop up. We need to keep a close eye on the weather because the wind is forecast to go into the north and east over the next week, and it is clear that an easterly F6 will be a very different beast to the westerly F6s we have been used to.

By 1500hrs we are off Scarborough Bay and it is blowing a steady 20kts, we spend half an hour debating whether to anchor or go into the harbour. As the conditions are it will be a miserable rocky night, but the wind is forecast to drop away to nothing so we decide to chance it.

The charts show the bay be to sand, ideal for anchoring, but there is a big rocky patch at ‘Ramsdale Scar’ that we must avoid. In addition to this there are  crab pots dotted around the bay, crabs don’t live on sand, they like rocks. In the end we select a spot right in front of the Grand Hotel, in what will be about 2.5m of water at low water. I buoy the anchor in case it is amongst rocks, and after two attempts, where I wrap the buoy around the anchor chain we are anchored at the third attempt. We use the engine to back the anchor in hard and it feels very secure.

By the time that we have tidied away and had a cup of tea the wind has died and we are set for a lovely evening. Anchoring has not really been possible on this trip and it is something that we have missed, there is nothing like the tranquility and calm of a night at anchor.

Scarbados, of course, is a bustling seaside resort, on the last weekend of the summer holidays. First out of the harbour is a pirate ship taking holiday makers on 20 minute trips around the bay. It is quiet and the excited guests wave as they pass us by. I have always felt that any kind of boat trip is a treat if you are not fortunate enough to have regular access to a boat.

Next up are a pair of big speedboats which have noisy, but impressive sounding V8 engines, these blast round the bay making waves and a racket, but it’s all part of the fun.

The trips end by 1900hrs and suddenly we have the bay to ourselves, the wind has died completely and we enjoy a lovely calm evening, decorating the bay for the holiday makers on the beach.

We take a swim the following morning and the water is still icy cold, but it does afford me the chance to dive down to inspect the anchor which is nicely dug into the flat sand, not a rock in site.

Warming ourselves on deck with a hot coffee we are suddenly surrounded by dolphins, no more than 30m from the boat, they are clearly having a nosy but soon get bored and head off to have a look at the pirate ship. Another amazing wildlife experience, although I don’t even get my camera out, I’ve missed too many encounters trying to photograph them.

By lunch time we are safely moored up in the harbour ready to tackle the many attractions that Scarborough has to offer.

To our absolute delight we discover that we are in time for the last naval battle re-enactment of the year on the lake in Peasholme Park, so with a picnic, can of beer and high hopes we set off walking along Marine Drive to witness naval history. On the way we are passed by a convoy of VW based beach buggies, these are not normally my thing but maybe in my old age my standards are slipping. I guess that you had to be around in the 1970s to fully appreciate purple metal flake paint.

How to describe the jaw dropping spectacle that is the Peasholme Park Naval Battle? Essentially it is a simplified version of an actual WWII battle, today we have the Battle of the River Plate. To make the carnage more fun though, we have a pantomime style commentary, complete with cheers for the plucky Brits, boos for the unidentified enemy (spoiler alert, it was Germany) and even a big ‘aaah’ when one of the British merchants ships is lost! There is a feeling that someone has attempted, in a half-arsed northern kind of way to make proceedings ‘woke’, but we spend a lovely hour booing foreigners in little boats.

The choreography of the boats, plus the explosions and pyrotechnics make for a really dramatic display.

Fortunately the Brits won out in the end and as in most wars the winners write the history; some key details seem to have been changed slightly to suit the Sunday afternoon on the boating lake setting.

In the actual battle HMS Achilles flew the New Zealand ensign and was crewed by  Kiwis, Allied casualties were twice what the unidentified enemy suffered, and the Graf Spee was scuttled by its crew, not sunk by the Royal Navy.

After the dramatic finale the ships motored serenely past the assembled crowd on a lap of honour, regrettably some of the magic was lost when the superstructure of each ship was opened up to reveal a ginger haired teenager at the helm.

Overall an absolutely superb and eccentric afternoon of entertainment that should be commended for its ambition and the work of the volunteers who care so passionately. British eccentricity at it’s best, long may it continue.

Back at the boat we find that the wind, as forecast has gone into the east, which is a worry, but only at around 10kts. Over the next day and a half it continues to blow gently from the east, but the impact on the sea state is dramatic. It makes for a great little photo expedition in the evening but we are going to need to watch this carefully as we plan our next hop south.

Over the following two days it becomes clear that summer is coming to an end. The decks are wet with condensation in the mornings and we are intermittently inundated with sea fret. On Sunday night we are kept awake by the odd combination of the harbour fog horn, plus thunder.

As I write this it is Monday 2nd September and tomorrow we plan to sail south despite a less than encouraging forecast. I don’t think that either of us has wanted to let the other down, but we have now admitted to ourselves and to each other that we are both exhausted, physically to some extent, but mainly emotionally.

Sailing is not a game, and the penalties for serious failures are severe; the pressures of getting it almost completely right, almost all of the time have taken their toll. November last year was the last time that we lived a normal life, and we both now crave ‘home waters’.

The forecast for the next week is miserable, we are in a horrible slack pattern between a high over Europe which is blocking an Atlantic low. As a result predicting the wind is very difficult. Tomorrow we could have a cracking sail in westerlies or we could burn a lot of diesel, assuming that the engine behaves. There is even talk of using the spinnaker.

The passage plan is probably the most complex that I have ever written. Plan A is to sail 50nm south to anchor behind Spurn Point, if this is not tenable, Plan B will be to cross the Humber to anchor at Tetney Haven, if this is not tenable we will push on through the night back to Norfolk. If Plan A works we may well go on to Hull on Wednesday morning, but this looks unlikely. More likely is that on Wednesday we will continue south to arrive in Norfolk where we will continue our east coast summer cruise in more familiar waters.

The chances of the next two days going to plan are vanishingly close to zero, but the main risks are winds that are too light, and from the wrong direction. 0600hrs start tomorrow, pass the storm jib, let’s go. If it all goes belly up we have Flamingo’s No1. Favourite sandwiches, egg and cress on rye or sourdough for lunch, dinner and tea.

‘No plan survives contact with the enemy’, and of course when you are sailing there are multiple enemies. Our arrival back on Tyneside coincides with Storm Lilian sweeping across the country. The predicted winds are ferocious, it’s rare to see F10 in any summer forecast.

Because she has been unattended for nearly a week Flamingo is already well secured and fendered in her berth, but I double up a couple of lines and add in the last two fenders just to be sure. Lilian diverts south at the last minute and I think Norfolk gets it worse than we do up north, it feels like a storm in a teacup when it finally arrives.

The weather now seems to have settled into a more normal pattern of Atlantic lows, which promises better predictability in the wind, but also stronger winds. Our next two enemies reveal themselves quite quickly, firstly we can sail to Amble on Saturday or Monday, but look likely to be stuck there for a week; secondly our Fleet Captain has agreed to compete in the BSSC Mini Regatta on 21st and 22nd September, so our five weeks has just become four weeks.

Our decision is that we will sail to Whitby on Monday with a view to hopping on to Scarborough on Thursday, where again, we may be stuck for a while. This suits us well, there is a lot to do in both ports, the reports that people have given us suggest that Amble is lovely but it’s attractions can be covered in a couple of days.

Whitby is a 45nm passage and is tide dependent at the Whitby end, as the bridge to the marina opens for two hours either side of high water, which is at 2203hrs. This means that the earliest that we can get into the marina is 2003hrs, although the bridge will continue to open until  open until 0003hrs if we arrive late.

Over Saturday and Sunday the forecast for Monday’s passage is SW F4-5, but with F6 forecast for Sunday evening and Monday evening. With this in mind I plan the passage at 4.5kts, there should be plenty of breeze to maintain this speed or better, and if we are early it is possible to moor on the fish quay in Whitby to wait for the bridge to open.

The 1800hrs forecast on Sunday shows the wind decreasing and the threat of F6 is now firmly before we depart and after our arrival which is a relief. With the wind in the SW the sea state is remaining remarkably calm.

The 0600hrs forecast on the morning of our departure has been modified to F2-F4, and it is raining. The forecast wind poses me (with my capacity for over thinking every problem) a dilemma. So I spend what should be a lovely morning trying to reconcile the various factors that will impact our sail:

• If the wind blows F4 the plan is good
• If the wind blows F2 we will be very slow
• I don’t want to run the engine anymore than necessary
• We can safely arrive early
• We can arrive four hours late
• It is safer to arrive in the light
• It is fun to arrive in the dark
• This could become a very long and tiring sail
• It’s supposed to be fun

In under an hour the rain stops, the sun comes out and a compromise is reached. We will slip our lines one hour early at 0900hrs and tackle the rest of the passage as it unfolds, modulating our boat speed with view to arriving for the first bridge, but not worrying about being late. With this plan in place I am able to relax and enjoy a leisurely breakfast as we prepare for our departure.

It is prudent to allow 40 minutes to transit the lock, especially on a busy Bank Holiday Monday; we manage it in ten minutes, so we are now one and a half hours ahead of schedule. One of the reasons that the lock is so quick is that it uses quadrant gates which I haven’t seen before, there are no paddles, they simply open the gates a little to allow water in and out. It’s certainly quick but you can often hear, lock keeper telling boats to wait for before entering while the turbulence settles. I’d love to see them fill it when the lifeboat is going through on a shout.

The other reason that we transit the lock quickly is that we are are squeezed in at the last minute alongside Chaos, a Laser 28, a type of boat that I have not seen before. Once we are secure alongside Chaos we share the usual pleasantries with their crew. Nice weather, where are you headed, that’s a nice boat.

The reason that they think that Flamingo is nice boat is that it appears to have come out of the same mould as Chaos I suspect some plagiarism here.

Chaos is headed south like us, obviously it’s not a race, but I’m looking at their hank-on foresails and their racing laminate sail fabric and thinking maybe, just for a bit.

Once clear of the river Tyne breakwaters we are settled with full white sails, on a beam reach and we are just about matching Chaos and their full grey sails, the wind is blowing F3-F4. The sun is shining between broken clouds, the sea state is benign and we are making nearly 7kts over the ground, happy days. Until, somebody on the crew points out that we have planned at 4.5kts, and are already 90 minutes ahead of schedule, so 4kts would suit us rather better.

As we pass the site of the kittiwake arial attack at Marston Grotto, Chaos head further inshore for Hartlepool, so we bear away to sail our own passage.

Freed from the need-for-speed we tie in one reef, but because we were already overpowered it has no  impact on our boat speed, a second reef is equally ineffective. It’s not until we start rolling the genoa away that we are able to reduce our boat speed in any meaningful way.

Up ahead there is a big rainstorm rolling out of Hartlepool that looks like it might get squally, so we roll more genoa and prepare to get wet. Usually in this situation my optimism gets the better of me and I don a showerproof coat. This looks messy though so we both go for full oilies, plus sea boots.

A storm like this can kill the wind, or it can briefly blow at gale force so we prepare carefully. The story of the Bayesian sinking in Sicily has been the talk of the pontoons this last week and I think it has focused us all on the power of squalls. By rolling the genoa we further reduce our boat speed to 3kts and the squall rolls out to sea ahead of us without a drop of rain falling on deck. Just like carrying a brolly on a long walk, our oilies have kept the rain away.

By the time the storm has passed we are only 30 minutes ahead of schedule and I manage to relax about our boat-speed. Far too often on these longer passages I allow myself to become obsessed with self imposed and meaningless deadlines, constantly calculating and re-calculating speeds and times, when I should be enjoying the sail.

We have a new regional treat aboard for lunch today  Stotties. Much like Arbroath Smokies I am aware that Stotties exist but have no idea what they are. They are  very much like an enormous oven bottom muffin, slightly dense with a proper, almost burnt very hot oven flavour. Combined with Flamingo’s second favourite filling, egg mayonnaise we have a treat for lunch.

Mindful of the fact that we will need to be alert at the end of the passage we take it in turns to sleep for part of the afternoon. Everytime I sleep it blows F4 and Belinda wrestles with Flamingo, every time Belinda sleeps it blows F3 and I steer with one finger while sipping champagne and eating strawberries.

By 1800hrs we are both fully alert and on deck, preparing for our arrival which has a few tiers of complication for which we need to be prepared.  Approaching Whitby from the north holds none of the complications associated with the southerly approach, no rocks, no overfalls and no buoyage to follow, we can simply sail a straight line to the pier head. There are however VHF radio communications that need to be completed correctly and in the right order.

With the bridge opening every 30 minutes from 2000hrs onwards we ideally want to arrive just in time for a bridge opening. As we approach the sun is getting low in the sky and the wind is beginning to fail us, by 1910hrs we have two miles to go and no breeze at all so on goes the engine. We dial in 4kts of speed and stow the sails ready for a tidy entrance to the harbour. By 1940hrs we are at the harbour mouth with the nav lights on for the first time in months.

Now for the Kafkaesque exchanges. Call Whitby Watchkeeper on Ch11 to get permission to enter the port, then call Whitby Bridge also on Ch11 for your bridge timings. Whitby Marina (Ch11) have told us that Whitby Bridge will have our berthing instructions , but no, we need to call Whitby Watchkeeper on you guessed it, Ch11 for those.

Motoring up into the harbour in the twilight is such a treat, it’s always exciting to enter a new port, but one as historic and picturesque as Whitby is doubly enjoyable. The quayside is lined with holidaymakers crabbing, drinking and eating fish & chips. Many of the kids and some of the adults wave. It reminds me of being a kid and watching people on yachts, knowing that it was something that I desperately wanted to do, but also being certain that it would never be possible.

The timing of our arrival is about right, we have about 15 minutes to jill about waiting for the bridge. There are two local boats rafted together on the waiting pontoon and we pass them to wait right up by the bridge. Three long trips to the Netherlands has honed our skills in holding the boat still waiting for bridges, plus we have learned that the bridge keepers want you to pass quickly to avoid holding the traffic and pedestrians up for too long.

As the bridge opens we are right there waiting and first through, ahead of all the other boats that have been waiting. Many of the adults whose evening strolls to the pub have been interrupted wave enthiastically from the quayside, some suggesting that we have one, and others two minutes to get through the bridge. I suspect that the waiting boats may have been equally frustrated by our direct approach, but as we agreed before ‘you snooze you loose’.

By 2010hrs we are moored securely on an actual pontoon, not rafted. It is not a big marina and Whitby have a reputation for finding you a spot, however busy they are. As a result it is not uncommon to be rafted, but a treat to be on the pontoon anyway. The shorepower socket next to us also has some credit on it so we are all powered up.

We had both expected to be tired after an eleven hour sail but the benign conditions and our more structured watch system have left us feeling quite energised. After some thought though we shut up the boat; close the curtains; light the oil lamp; pour a little whiskey and put some music on.

After a great night’s sleep the Harbour Master comes down to see us and moves us onto the outside of a raft, ‘in case a big boat comes in’. From our new position on the raft we can no longer reach our shore power socket, so we’re off grid again.

The following day we have another cliff top walk along to Whitby lighthouse where we find mysterious fields of what look like wild flowers. We spend quite some time fruitlessly speculating on their purpose. I conclude that they are nitrogen fixing and will be ploughed back in to enrich the soil; Belinda concludes that their purpose is to look and smell nice. Maybe if there are any farmers reading…..

The return journey is punctuated by two very important stop-offs: Whitby Abbey Brewery for a sneaky IPA and obviously Fortune’s for kippers.

Back at the marina we find that our raft has disappeared and someone has very kindly moored us very carefully and plugged our shore power into a socket with some credit.

Having dodged Amble we find ourselves on Tyneside rather earlier than expected, in fact we have six days to fill. This turns out to be considerably easier than expected. On the whole the weather cooperates which enables us to get out and about, enjoying the city, river and coast.

We use the bikes to visit some lovely sandy beaches at Tynemouth and South Shields. Spurred on by the number of locals in the water we even have a swim in the sea at Tynemouth. I’m a big fan of sea swimming, even taking ritual dips in the North Sea at Skegness during the winter, but the sea at Tynemouth is a whole new level of cold, worse than Scotland.

One day we take the bikes across the river on the North/South Shields ferry so that we can ride down the coast to Marsden Grotto. There is still a little magic about a little foot ferry and it makes the journey special.

For anyone who is unfamiliar with the area Marsden Grotto has a lift built into the cliff which deposits you in a cafe on the beach. It used to deposit you in a pub but this is now sadly defunct. My father in law Bill told us how as a child in 1945 they were allowed to use the lift and play on the pub terrace, but not go on the beach on account of the mines. We had a similar experience sat on the beach watching the kittiwake colony, where we were spattered with weapons grade guano.

Royal Quays marina is handily placed to access the Tyneside Metro, although our local station, Meadow Well is in need of a little spit and polish. On reflection just polish.

There is no substitute for a few trips on an urban transport system to help you get a feel for a city, and we certainly got a feel for Tyneside.

We did discover a really cool Sunday Market in the old station at Tynemouth, it even had the trains running through the middle of it, just like you see on the TV documentaries about Asia.

Newcastle city centre is a real treat, packed with great architecture, pubs and bridges; in fact you really can’t get away from the bridges.

Two afternoons are taken up with sessions sampling some of the many pubs that have been recommended to us, every one is a gem but the Free Trade at Ouseburn wins out for us. It’s here that we meet Alfie who resolutely refuses to pose for photos when his owner tries take them but  poses like a supermodel for me.

August 17th is Indonesian Independence Day, which we mark in honour of our Indonesian friends. When I dig out our depleted flag roll I notice that alongside the red and white of Indonesia 🇮🇩 , there is a very smart sewn Saltaire. Throughout our time in Scotland we have been wearing a kiddies sandcastle courtesy flag while this beauty languished in a locker. I have vague recollections of making this and other flags when we first bought Flamingo, dreaming of the countries that we might visit one day. I must have had some insight at the time because I also made a yellow free pratique flag, which was redundant at the time, but is now required in post-Brexit Europe.

A feature of this trip has been our journeys back to Lincoln by rail for family birthdays. This time, on the same day that Flamingo is 30 years old, I am 60 years old and my aunt has a zero birthday too, but good manners prevents any further disclosure.

I have never had to use the railways to commute to work, so for me a train journey almost always means adventure, an almost old fashioned sense of romance. Newcastle railway station has that fantastic buzz of energy, all of the people coming and going tell little stories. Football fans wearing black and white shirts, hen parties wearing less, little kids with parents or grandparents visiting the city, it all adds up to an intriguing little sketch.

Gradually we dismantle the romance of the journey, firstly we board with our traditional Greggs train picnic, and once seated we look around at our fellow travellers; why is it that the people travelling on the trains are so much less glamerous and appealinjg than the ones getting off the trains? And are they thinking the same about us?

Railway photography is like shooting fish in a barrel and I have a field day amongst the Victorian glass and arches.

On arrival at home we find both of our children and their partners there to meet us, and a fault on the mains electricity which leaves us with no fridge, freezer, music, phone charging……. It is lovely to see everyone but it is chaos, rather more chaos than we are used to. On my birthday the electrian arrives, identifies and isolates the fault, then backs his van through the front wall!

On the train back to Tyneside we agree that we don’t want to simply pick up Flamingo and sail south, there are five weeks until we would like to be back in Norfolk. Five weeks is almost a third of our trip and it needs to be a continuation of our journey. To that end we agree an outline plan, Flamingo will fly north again to Amble and on to Holy Island for a third attempt to visit and get ashore. I harbour a secret ambition to continue north to Eyemouth for one night so that I can run up my Saltaire, just once.

We have enjoyed Tyneside a great deal, it is gritty, grubby and in places downright dirty, but we definitely prefer it to the polish of Edinburgh, or her little sister St Andrews. Incredible architecture and engineering, great pubs (each of which has better beer than the whole of Scotland) and probably more than anything a great river. A river gives a city focus, as a visitor a river gives you a sense of direction and place. Name me a great city that isn’t centred on a river.

If tomorrow’s plan works out, this will be our last evening in Scotland. We elect to have an evening stroll around the harbour and onto the beach in order to clear our heads, and to add to my collection of sea glass (treasure).

The accuracy of the forecast, especially the wind forecast is going to be key to our decision to stay or go tomorrow, and to the success of our passage if we decide to go. The crew generally favours champagne sailing, I favour a sporty sail, nobody wants a sea survival course which is what we may get if I misjudge the forecast.

Although the inshore waters forecast still contains some alarming numbers, I have looked over and over again at how this weather pattern is developing on the surface pressure charts and the grib charts. The isobars are dead straight running east to west and are predicted to open out overnight. I am pretty convinced that this wind will drop overnight and am absolutely convinced that it won’t go into the south, which would create problems for us. If the inshore waters forecast doesn’t agree with my assessment in the morning we will face a dilema.

That dilema will be eased a little by the fact that we can run back to Eyemouth if the wind does go into the south. After that, apart from Berwick upon Tweed, we are short of options for ports of refuge. Some readers may be shouting ‘what about Beadnell’, the answer is no, I’ll cover why in later blog.

Before bed I work up our passage plan, opting to add a pilotage plan to cover our transit past the Farne Islands. Without the pilotage plan the whole document can become very wordy; the visual pilotage plan keeps it simple and intuitive.

In this instance the passage plan covers tides and timings, whereas the pilotage plan gives us the extra detail such as bearings and distances that we will need to safely pass outside Holy Island but inside Goldstone Rocks, then inside Inner Farne and it’s associated rocks. Finally a couple of waypoints will keep us off the rocks at North Sunderland and Newton.

It is very likely that we will be fully engaged in managing the boat in strong winds as we pass the Farne Islands so our plans need to be clear and unambiguous.

Norfolk sailors will note that our Longitudes are all West, and read right-to-left, it has taken us some time to get used to this. The only time that Flamingo normally crosses the Greenwich Meridian is in the autumn because her winter berth at Fosdyke Yacht Harbour lies at 0°02.4W.

When our 0700hrs alarm sounds we have both slept the sleep of the righteous, although I am aware that the 0100hrs forecast showed promising progress. The 0600hrs forecast however completely justifies my faith in the weather charts. South, veering south-west then west; F3-F4, occasionally F5; smooth or slight, occasionally rough in north. I discard the bit about south.

We are well drilled at getting up and underway in 30 minutes, but today we have allowed an hour so we are able to prepare at our leisure. In flat calm sunny conditions we eat breakfast on deck and are soon ready to slip our lines and leave Scotland. I have miserably failed to find a proper Scottish Saltaire courtesy flag whilst here, so my kiddies sandcastle Saltaire droops weakly from the Starboard spreader for the last time, while my Brancaster Staithe Sailing Club, and Parker and Seal Sailing Association burgees have been correctly relegated to the inferior Port spreader.

By the time that we slip our lines, ably assisted by the ubiquitous liveaboard shipwright Sam, there are hints of some breeze on the surface of the water. Eyemouth HM fails to respond on the VHF so we warn other vessels of our intentions and head off down the canyon for the last time, we hope.

Once clear of the harbour and rocks it is blowing 10kts from the south, as forecast. We hoist full white sails and are soon fetching at over 5kts, tracking 135° towards Castle Head Rock. The fact that the wind is southerly is a slight worry, it will suffice for the first three hours to Holy Island though.

I’m sure that as the morning progresses the wind will increase and veer round towards the west, and it does. By 0900hrs we have one reef tied in, by 0930hrs two, with just a third of the genoa unfurled. After a slight lull at 1000hrs the wind settles at wsw and blows between 14kts and 23kts for the remainder of the passage.

This is the kind of sporty sailing that I love, by managing the sail plan, trim and shape we have more than enough power to drive Flamingo at passage making speeds. Our speed through the water is over 5kts most of the time, and regularly over 6kts, peaking at 6.9kts! In the lee of the land the sea state remains relatively subdued, despite the wind hovering around 20kts much of the time, plus with this much power we can punch through the seas rather than have them stall our progress.

Regrettably the automatic tiller pilot won’t cope in these conditions so we hand steer all day, with the crew doing the bulk of the work early in the day.

By 1100hrs we are passing Holy Island with some sadness, we really wanted to visit here properly and have been thwarted by the weather. We decide that if possible we will sail back up here later in the month when we collect Flamingo from Newcastle, or wherever we leave her. Adding to our navigational worries we have many crab pots to avoid which takes some concentration, and also requires sailing with the spray hood folded away which further adds to our fatigue.

While completing the 1100hrs log book entry I make a slight change to the plan, rather than pass west of Plough Rock we will pass between it and Goldstone. The buoys that we need to pass between are clearly visible and our Swedman waypoint is still relevant so this will be fine.

Back in the cockpit Belinda has a stowaway, a very tired looking bumble bee has hitched ride, this is not uncommon, they usually rest for a few hours then continue on their impossible flight. Having completed my changes to the plan I climb back up the companionway into the cockpit, and stand on the bee, whose flight has now become impossible. He, or she is buried at sea, off Holy Island without ceremony, but with some sadness.

I have mentioned before that the tidal flows on this north-east coast don’t amount to much, often half a knot, rarely much more than one knot. In the passage between the Farne Islands and the mainland however we have been battling in excess of two knots for well over an hour. The wind is now consistently over 20kts and we are hard pressed with our current sail plan, but we persist to punch through this tide. Flamingo is broadly under control; this is exhilarating but tiring sailing.

South of Bamburgh Castle the wind eases a little and we are now back in the sweet spot, powering along.

The very observant reader may have noticed that the VHF channel for Tyne VTS and Royal Quays marina are recorded in the passage plan. Right back when we were walking to St Abbs I had made the suggestion that if this passage was going well we could extent it and sail on to the Tyne and complete our passage. We did this once before on a passage home from Harwich and it turned into an absolute shit-storm, by the time we reached Brancaster we were so tired that we couldn’t agree which was the pointy end of the boat!

We discusses this plan at St Abbs and finally agreed that I thought it was a good idea and Belinda didn’t. Based on this discussion, and bearing in mind the old Asian saying ‘happy wife, happy life’, I’ve decided to not mention it further and head for Amble. It is quite a surprise then that as we are passing Dunstaburgh Castle that the crew announces that we need to decide if we are going to stick to the plan and go into Amble or press on to Newcastle, from where we have train tickets booked.

It’s a very complex decision, we could be stormbound in Amble; there is however a bus from Amble to Newcastle; we are tired; the wind may drop or increase and we still have the questionable motor to consider. I favour Newcastle, Belinda favours Amble and we both understand the others position. If we decide to press on rest will be key, so Belinda hits the port cabin berth for a sleep, where she sleeps until well past Amble. You snooze you loose.

Navigation from off Coquet Island at Amble, to my waypoint in the mouth of the Tyne couldn’t be simpler, just sail a straight line on a bearing of 167° for 20nm. The tide has now turned in our favour and we cover the distance in well under four hours, still in sunshine under clear skies.

Fatigue is now the enemy so I have a couple of off watch breaks where I doze in the saloon, each time however I’m required back on deck before too long as the wind increases and Flamingo becomes a handful.

It’s during one of these spells that Belinda spots our burgees floating past, unimpressed with their new position on the inferior Port spreader they have jumped ship. We initiate the man overboard drill but despite snaring them once with the boathook we fail to retrieve them. I’m quite upset about this, I like my burgees and what they represent; I also like the ritual and tradition involved in their positioning, hoisting and retrieval. I’m even more upset when I find out the cost of replacements.

Remarkably the wind remains constant right up to 1920hrs when we arrive at the mouth of the Tyne. We soon roll the genoa, start the engine and begin motoring up river to the marina lock. Our radio officer speaks to Tyne VTS  who inform us that there is no (comercial) traffic on the river.

It feels good to be back in the familiar Tyne, almost like being home, almost like the trip is complete. When we first arrived here over a month ago we felt like we had sailed to the edge of the map and conquered the world.

The lights are green at the lock so we motor straight in and tie up to starboard as directed, to recieve our berthing instructions. By 1950hrs we are snug in the berth that will be ours four nearly two weeks.

Other than the burgee debacle this has been a model passage. We have planned meticulously, monitored the weather carefully and interpreted the forecasts correctly, sailed the boat hard but within it’s limits and ours, and finally managed our fatigue levels.

We have sailed 62nm in under 12 hours today, hand steering all the way. We have averaged over 5kts, making 5kts takes some doing, sustaining it over 12 hours is quite an achievement.

More than that though we have completed leg two of our summer adventure, we are back in Newcastle as planned in plenty of time to catch our train.

‘At least it won’t blow up overnight’ were Belinda’s words at sunset, but as we retire to our berths it is beginning to blow. The forecast for tomorrow is variable F2-4  becoming south or southwest F4-5; this is proper passage making weather and should serve us well. Our plan is to sail 28 miles southeast, round St Abbs Head and into Eyemouth, so we should have some cracking sailing with the possibility of a fetch or a beat for the last four miles.

Some nagging doubt however has got into my mind and I can’t sleep, I have so many doubts and fears about this passage. There is always some anxiety about an impending passage, but this is beyond all reason. The wind has picked up and is moaning in the rigging, this further increases my doubts. Maybe we won’t be able to sail tomorrow, maybe we won’t make Newcastle at all, should I get dressed and walk to look at the sea state (it’s 0330hrs). Maybe I should have put my ear plugs in, slept and re-assesed in the morning. At about 0500hrs it dawns on me that the wind is no longer moaning, the boat is calm and I have wasted the night fretting over nothing.

We have a 0630hrs alarm and after a leisurely breakfast we slip our lines at 0720hrs and are underway, broad reaching in the early morning sunshine towards the Isle of May that we were looking at just last evening. This is proper champagne sailing. With the second half of the ebb pushing us east we are steering 170° towards Bass Rock to make our course of 130°.

Bass Rock is a 100 metre tall volcanic plug that has been a fort and a prison in it’s time; it is now home to the world’s largest colony of gannets. The rock itself is a very dark colour, almost black, but over the years the gannets have decorated it in a colour that is more to their liking. The sailing directions suggest not approaching it any closer than three miles downwind!

By 1100hrs the wind has died to absolutely nothing and we are motoring on a glassy sea, this is probably expected as the ‘variable’ gives way to the forecast south or south-westerly. Just before 1200hrs we see another minke whale surfacing just as a few catspaws on the surface of the water indicate the arrival of the wind, from the northeast! Before long it is blowing 10kts from exactly the opposite direction to the one that was forecast; still, it’s a beam reach, we are sailing and having fun, and we are in no rush.

We spend the bulk of the afternoon like this, it is pleasant sailing, certainly not challenging. Looking round, it seems likely that it is a sea breeze, there is a line of convection clouds over the south bank of the Firth and the gradient wind is offshore.

As we round St Abbs Head the wind does an abrupt 180° about face and begins blowing F5 from the southwest, we take in two reefs and roll half of the genoa and are soon fetching towards Eyemouth cardinal buoy at 5.8kts in clear blue sunny skies, a real sporty sail and a lot of fun.

With the sails stowed I motor towards Eyemouth entry channel but I am a little disorientated and wanting to stay too close to the cardinal buoy, it is very easy to go on the rocks here. From the companionway the navigator instructs me to go over to the west, nearer to the visible rocks. It soon makes sense, which is more than we can say for our berthing instructions from the Harbour Master. Don’t go on the pontoon, there are two big yachts coming in, don’t (or maybe do) raft alongside Nightshift.

Once inside the choice is obvious, Sudana is about 32ft and her friendly crew beckon us across to raft along side them, even better they are leaving in an hour so we can go on the pontoon. As they are preparing to leave we slip our lines and motor up to jill about at the head of the basin when into the harbour comes a floating spaceship. It’s a huge catamaran called Scorpio Rising that is about as wide as it is long, it looks preposterous. As Sudana departs the Harbour Master directs the catamaran into our space, to be fair to the skipper he handles his craft very skillfully without, we discover later, bow or stern thrusters.

So now poor old Flamingo needs a new nest, we decide to go alongside Nightshift, she is owned by a very amiable Irishman that we have met before, it should be fun. As soon as we have our lines secure on raft number two of the evening we are told that a 45 footer (Oculus Storm) is coming in, can we move alongside the catamaran. Of course we can, to be honest it’s a lot like mooring to a pontoon anyway.

Once we have tidied Flamingo away, completed the log book and enjoyed a cup of tea we take a lovely evening stroll to the pontoon and back. Our boat and the Scorpio Rising could not be more different but what we and her crew have in common is sailing. They are friendly and accommodating. Scorpio Rising has everything they need, including four double cabins, with en-suite!

While we were in Anstruther I found online instructions and spliced loops into the new mooring lines. It is the kind of job that I love, learning a new skill and putting it to good use. Oddly, part of the process is to add many tiny blue marker pen dots to help identify the correct strands for splicing. Mooring alongside Scorpio Rising will be the first deployment for these new lines.

Overnight it rains but by morning it has developed into a rather blustery but sunny day. The great news is that overnight our new mooring lines have been silent. The catamaran is leaving so we prepare to move yet again. They have opted to leave at low water and although there is enough depth of water where we are, we will soon go aground if we move further out into the harbour. While I’m developing my plan I notice to my horror that the rain has caused the myriad small marker pen dots to run, my splices, resting on their white decks are pale blue; Daz white I later decide to call it.

My plan for moving has two main strands to it: one, don’t run aground; two, swap those lines out quickly while nobody is looking.

We now have eight days until we need to be on a train from Newcastle to Lincoln. The obvious plan is to divide the trip into three sections: Eyemouth to the  Lindisfarne anchorage; then on to Amble and the last leg to Newcastle, to succeed in this we need weather for three good sailing days, plus at least one night at anchor. We very quickly discard the Lindisfarne stopover, the winds are forecast strong every day, this is not the weather to get caught in an exposed anchorage. So we need one good day to sail the 40NM to Amble, and a shorter day to knock off the final 20NM to Newcastle.

Although it is warm and sunny on Friday the wind is delivering the forecast F6-F7, everybody on the pontoon and in the Harbour Master’s office is of the same mind, not a sailing day. Saturday however has potential so we are developing an outline plan to sail to Amble in the morning.

I am absolutely determined that I will not work myself into a whirl of worry this time, I need to be rested and thinking clearly, it’s a long and quite complex passage. To this end we plan to walk along the cliff tops to St Abbs village; Flamingo is snug in her berth and we need to get away from the harbour and wind moaning in the rigging. The new mooring lines are a revelation, I spend far too long watching them stretch like rubber bands as Flamingo pulls against them in the wind.

The walk to St Abbs is a cracker with each new headland revealing a new view. This is an ideal way to relax and take my mind off the passage planning and weather.

There are a couple of freshwater streams that have cut gullies about a mile inland, so the path zig-zags alpine style down to the beach where it continues before climbing back to the cliff top. Some of the beaches are sandy, some rocky and some pebbly.

Once we arrive St Abbs proves to be a quintessentially picturesque Scottish fishing village, this is just what I need to help me be calm and focused.

Note in the photos how St Abbs Head has protected the bay, preventing the sea state getting up, I suggest to the crew that with the proper sail plan it would be possible to make a passage in this weather so long as you weren’t sailing to windward.

The crew disagrees quite strongly with my assertation about sailing in this weather, so she has another Princess Dianna moment on a bench while I wander around the village making these photographs. I’ve always liked the idea of making rather than taking photographs, it hints at the thought and work that goes into the process. When I return we agree that today’s weather is not suitable for sailing.

While we are sitting on one of the beaches on the way back, a big ketch rounds St Abbs Head and starts to reach across in front of us towards Eyemouth, she is having a tough time of it.  With full main and a jib on she is rounding up, out of control every few minutes; she is also pitching wildly in the apparently flat sea.

I have to take care here, we are a judgemental lot sailors, I’m sure that we have all said ‘I wouldn’t have done it that way’ on many occasions. But I definitely wouldn’t have done it that way, far too much sail, plus I wouldn’t have gone out today.  At least it won’t impact on our plans if he does go into Eyemouth, they’re not going to raft a 40ft ketch outside Flamingo.

Approaching the last headland before Eyemouth we can see the tops of his masts and the judging begins in earnest. He is turning back and forth right in amongst the rocks, what’s he up to? Its a very odd place to be turning.

As we walk further he disappears from view completely, we have had a lovely calming day, we have discussed our options at length and are ready to stay or go tomorrow as the weather dictates. Calm.

At times like this when we are planning a marginal passage and I’m getting over confident I like to think of Edwin Lanseers painting Man Proposes, God Disposes, it shows an imagined scene from Franklin’s Erebus expedition; it didn’t end well.

Rounding the last headland the cause of the ketch’s erratic maneuvering is revealed, he’s under tow behind the Helen Hastings, at least our name will get scrubbed off the ‘last rescue’ board at Eyemouth RNLI station.

When we get back to the pontoon it’s bloody chaos! The pontoon rumour mill is running riot, they have had a reshuffle to fit the 40ft casualty in and we now have a 38 footer rafted outside us. The quayside is packed with RNLI crew, Coastguard personnel and gawpers. The wind is howling and our new neighbour is bouncing around, snubbing on his inferior, three strand mooring ropes and jerking Flamingo about mercilessly.

Although this situation does not suit us one little bit, I feel like it’s important to be a team player, we have been looked after royally throughout our time in Scotland, now it’s our turn to repay a bit. The guy moored alongside us is from Chichester, he has been here for 12 days trying to sort out engine problems; like us he’s a long way from home and chatting to him later he reveals that he has been suffering the same emotions as us while trying to fix his engine. He is also big enough to confess that his problems have been caused by a basic error that he made during winter maintenance.

The pontoon tittle-tattle is disappointing: third rescue this week; refused a tow from a fishing boat; lost his anchor then hit the rocks. The fact is that he has just been towed in, he’s had a tough and traumatic time, its all rumours. I dispatch one of Flamingo’s crew to pay the Harbour Master who will no doubt spill the beans. It is all true!

I wonder how many people went to pay the Harbour Master on the morning that we were towed in?

Rafting a 38 footer outside a 27 footer is not a satisfactory setup, especially when it is blowing F6 to F7, but what to do? We could easily sustain damage and there is no possibility of sleep with our boat being buffeted and dragged about. All of my Zen like calm, cultivated during our walk has been blasted out of the water.

I decide (and I’m not proud of this) to gradually drip feed him thoughts that might make him want to move, and I have a clear strategy of escalation, I just don’t want to be obvious about it. I tell him that we are planning to leave at 0800hrs (which is true) and that I will take his mobile number so that I can message him if we change our minds (and decide not to go) when the 0100hrs or 0600hrs Inshore Waters Forecasts come out. He sees sense straight away and negotiates a new spot, next to the dented ketch and ten minutes later relative calm is restored.

The 1800hrs forecast shows southerly winds veering westerly F4-F5, occasionally F6, sea state smooth or slight, rough for a time at first. If it veers early and there isn’t too much F6 we should cope, if not it could get messy, very messy. As we retire to our berths I propose that we sail for Amble at 0800hrs tomorrow, subject to the forecast improving; I’ve looked at the grib charts on PassageWeather.com and am convinced that it will be fine.

The trip home has done us both the world of good. We’ve had a wonderful time with friends and family celebrating Bill’s 90th birthday, ninety is quite a milestone and to make it worthy of the occasion it became a three day celebration.

We extended our stay in Lincoln to attend the funeral of our friend Nick, it is a sad time but the stories of his love for life inspire us to get back out there and squeeze as much joy as we can from every second. Marvellous.

It is definitely beneficial to get away from the boat because despite the fact that we are in the middle of an amazing adventure, it is challenging living on a 27ft boat. Space is very limited, showers are often cold and the joy of cooking is sometimes lost in the tiny galley. The cabin, with its teak paneling, oil lamp, books, music and whisky is a lovely retreat from the world and it’s weather. It can however become a cage if you are stuck there for too long with the wind howling through the rigging and Flamingo snubbing noisily against her lines.

In an attempt to reduce the noisy snubbing I have had some new rope delivered to Lincoln, which should mitigate the problem. I could write about rope at great length, but like people playing the bagpipes, I probably shouldn’t. Under normal circumstances a boat should be secured with four lines, and we now have this number of 14mm octoplait lines that are made from nylon. Octoplait is an odd looking rope that is ideal for mooring and anchoring (it is sometimes called anchorplait) because the structure of the rope allows it to stretch, which cushions the snubbing. A further advantage of anchorplait is that it is quiet, normal three strand rope creaks miserably when it snubs. I have chosen nylon, because it also stretches a lot, this will further reduce the snubbing; nylon rope is also very strong. I have chosen 14mm for its extra strength (compromised by reduced stretch), 12mm would have been OK, but we can leave Flamingo on 14mm knowing that she is secure. All I have to do now is learn to splice loops in one end of each line; I know I could have bought them pre spliced, but where’s the fun in that?

Despite enjoying being ashore we discover that terrestrial life has its drawbacks too, none of the jobs that need completing on the house have been done in our absence, the lawn needs mowing and pigeons have moved in uninvited under the solar panels.

Worse though is the absence of rocks, shells, sea and big skies; for all of the extra space home seems a little claustrophobic.

While we have been away from the boat I have been reflecting on the trip so far. I feel that my capacity to anticipate and plan for every eventuality is holding us back from visiting some interesting places. We (I) need to be a bit more adventurous without becoming reckless.

As expected Flamingo has been well cared for in our absence and is ready to go when we arrive at RFYC on Thursday afternoon. We have a supermarket delivery booked for Friday morning between 8.30 and 9.30, however because this is outside normal licensing hours we are not allowed alcohol. This seems like madness, it’s 2024 not the dark ages; I know plenty of people who like a little gin with (or on) their breakfast.

As soon as we are back aboard we dig out the Bromptons and I cycle up to Asda in Leith to pick up essential supplies.

While the bikes are out we opt to pedal up to a lovely riverside area called ‘the water of Leith’ which has a sophisticated European feel to it. It is rather busier than we expected but we find a sunny window seat in a restaurant called Toast where we enjoy a very agreeable meal. I should note here that we are making a very serious effort to avoid the usual boring bar meals wherever possible and Toast doesn’t disappoint.

Once the dry delivery van from Morrisons has departed, and the victualling is complete we prepare for today’s passage. In line with my new adventurous spirit we are headed straight across the Forth to the very pretty looking stone harbour of Aberdour. We are going to have another go at mooring on a stone wall. Belinda has spoken to the harbour master who assures us that we will be fine, he and his wife seem to be quite excited about our visit. He sounds like a rather well spoken Englishman, maybe he’s looking forward to some sophisticated English company, dissapointment may be his portion.

I start the engine to give it chance to warm up, while it is doing so I monitor the water flow from the exhaust, there is worrying little. This may be OK, she hasn’t run for a week but before long the familiar alarm sounds, we’ve overheated, again. When I disconnected the seacock and open it very muddy water comes pouring in. This is a drying pontoon, Flamingo has been sat in the mud, maybe the inlet has been blocked with mud. On restarting the engine however she overheats again. This is devastating, it is six weeks since the Eyemouth Lifeboat incident and we were beginning to dare to believe that the problem may have been resolved.

So I strip the whole cooling system again, at least I know the drill and what tools I need. The culprit is easily found this time, the brand new, genuine Yanmar pump impellor has destroyed itself.

I carry out an immediate post mortem and fortunately the impellor is all there, if a bit has broken off and gone walkabout inside the cooling system we will have a new and serious problem.

Presumptuous as it seems, I don’t think this is related to our previous overheating problems. I can see two possible explanations: one, the inlet seacock was blocked with mud and the impellor has destroyed itself trying in vane (sorry)  to pump water that was never going to move; two, it’s a faulty impellor, I’ve had this once before.

In our new spirit of adventure we are not going to let this stop us, and thirty minutes later the cooling system has been reassembled with another new impellor and we are underway for Aberdour, shaken but not stirred.

Once out on the river we unroll most of the genoa, with a south-westerly F4-5  wind we are on a broad reach and should be able to complete the passage under genoa only. This is a mistake, to be honest I’m not a fan of genoa only sailing it limits your options should you need to manoeuvre upwind. We soon realise the error of our ways, there is an oil tanker slowing to take on board a pilot right at the junction of the North Channel and Mortimmers Deep, which is exactly where we need to cross. After an aborted attempt to hoist the main under sail we start the engine, motor head to wind and sort out a proper sail plan; double reefed main plus a third of the genoa. Now under control we carefully make our way up Mortimers Deep and approach Aberdour harbour through the moorings.

By now the wind is blowing above 25kts straight into the harbour entrance, and in wind against tide conditions the seas a piling up alarmingly. We start the motor to hold her head to wind while we take in sail but neither of us can keep her under control. This is madness, we are going to motor into a tiny unknown stone harbour, on a lee shore with an engine that was in bits 90 minutes ago, so we abort. It is definitely the right decision, there was potential to do a lot of damage. 

Not wanting to run the engine too much we beat our way back to within 200 metres of Granton entrance and only then start the engine to take us back to the pontoons.

That was a shabby sail with some poor decision making,  and failures to correct mistakes quickly enough. However, at key points we made good decisions and at the end of the day nobody drowned and we can use the boat again.

We depart at 1120hrs on the following morning, bound for Anstruther for what will hopefully be the last time this year. It is an easy sail, broad reaching down the Leith channel in lovely sunny conditions. We are sailing across the tide so it is important that we arrive in Anstruther while there is still enough water remaining in the harbour.

My passage plan has targets for progress towards our destinaton each hour, and if we keep up with this schedule we will arrive at Anstruther by 1730hrs, we can comfortably get in at this time. Looking at my tide height observations from the last time that we were in Anstruther, I think that we should be able to sneak into our berth at 1830hrs, this means that we can be ten minutes over schedule for each hour of the passage.

This all sounds a bit complicated, but what it means is that on a day like today, when the wind is bit light, we can enjoy sailing rather than motoring, knowing that we can get into our destination harbour. The plan works perfectly and by 1715hrs we are in our usual berth, having only motored for 1hr 30minutes. Watching the depth sounder as the tide ebbs away we would have got in at 1830hrs, just.

This has been a lovely day’s sailing in beautiful weather, with the benefit of a very benign sea state in the protected river area. At times our rate of progress was below three knots, but the security of the time plan allowed us to enjoy the sailing rather than worrying. Our next passage will take us back to sea and it feels a bit daunting, have we become soft river sailors?

I may have mentioned before that we love Anstruther and we are very happy here, we enjoy repeating our favourite coastal walks, the best of which is to St Monan via Pittenweem. We have new friends here in the harbour who make us feel really welcome, we are even offered a bed in someone’s home if it’s too rough aboard!

While we are here we have booked railway tickets from Newcastle to Lincoln for more big birthdays, so we need to start looking at a plan to sail down to Royal Quays marina at Tynemouth ready to catch the train in less than two weeks.

Walking back to the boat after a swim in Cellardyke Harbour we spot this beautiful sunset view of the Isle of May. Sadly I only had my phone with me so the photo is a bit crude.

It will be tough to leave here tomorrow, but we have to go, the forecast is good and the schedule demands progress. It has been windy today, but as you will see from the photo the sea state is quite benign, I comment on this and Belinda adds, ‘and it won’t blow up overnight’.

Our last, short passage on this first part of the trip is to move Flamingo back to the RFYC at Granton. Although some local  boats are passing through the south span of the railway bridge, I opt to use the  more popular north span. In fact, I can’t find anything in the sailing instructions to suggest that we are allowed to use the south span. This will be a slightly longer route but means that we will not have to navigate through the shoals and rocks between the Hound Point oil terminal and the south bank of the river.

Once again we will buoy hop along the Starboard (south) side of the channel, although as we are now outbound this involves us following the red, port hand buoys.

We plough our way out of Port Edgar an hour after low water and take great delight in bringing Flamingo head to wind in between the road and rail bridges in order to raise sail. Then, with a following ssw wind of 15kts we are soon broad reaching under the Rail Bridge and  into the main DWC.

Sailing our correct course along the south side of the channel will bring us uncomfortably close the C.Spirit tanker which is still moored on the Hound Point oil jetty, so in the absence of any other traffic we proudly sail straight up the middle of the channel. By the time that we reach the No.16 port hand mark we have passed the oil jetty and are able to move over to our correct course, buoy hopping along the south side of  the channel.

Once we have passed Oxcar Island with its distinctive lighthouse we can consider making a turn to starboard, out of the channel and across to the now visible Granton entrace. When we make this turn the wind, which is now up to 20kts will come on to the beam, overpowering us, so we tie one reef into the main sail and roll a third of the genoa away.

The decision as to where to make the turn is complicated by the many small rocks the lie to the east of the Oxcar lighthouse. If we turn too early we will be amongst the rocks, it looks like we can turn  safely at the No.12 buoy, we can definitely turn safely at the No.10 buoy but it’s a mile past Granton.

We compromise by turning shortly after No.12, we’ve both checked the chart and are happy that there is sufficient water on our course, the smallest depth that we should see is four metres. Once on course I can see masts between the Granton breakwaters about two miles away, and directly above it is Edinburgh Castle, it makes sense to use it as a transit.

So here we are, sailing Flamingo on a beam reach, powered up in the Firth of Forth, using Edinburgh Castle as a transit, happy days. The depths seem to be holding up when our dream sailing afternoon is rudely interrupted by a loud crash, followed by a second bang. Shit, we’re aground, on rocks, but it can’t be, the echo sounder is showing nine metres depth and we are still forging ahead. The culprit soon reveals itself astern, we’ve hit a log, not hard enough to do damage, especially to the propeller I hope.

Entry into Granton is much easier than last time because there is plenty of water in the harbour. We have been asked to leave Flamingo on the inside of the pontoon, in the gap between the old wooden piles and the pontoon. This involves reversing through a small gap between the pontoon end and the moored pilot boats then along a relatively narrow passage to our berth. I’ve always bragged about Flamingo’s ability to go astern so now is the time to show what she can do. As we approach the gap one of the pilot boats enters the harbour and moors up, halving the size of the gap. We jill about, backwards, while he sorts his lines. Finally, we make our approach, I have every right to be proud of Flamingo’s reversing ability, she behaves impeccably, giving the distinct impression that I know what I’m doing.

In brilliant sunshine we are soon tied up, with lines and fenders doubled so she should be safe on her own for a week.

Once she is secure we walk the mile and a half to see how Rishi and his new curry restaurant are getting on, despite the forecast of heavy rain.

Rishi does us proud (I never thought I’d say that) with another first class south indian meal, but it is difficult to describe just how wet we got on the walk home, despite using Flamingo’s No.1 umbrella. Tomorrow we journey home with LNER on the East Coast Main Line from Edinburgh Waverley.

We will have a welcome break from some of the challenges associated with living on a small boat, and have a chance to catch up with friends and family; returning refreshed and ready for the next part of our adventure.