Historically Eyemouth was a fishing village, although in recent years it has grown into a pleasant holiday destination with that typically Scottish new-town style developments on the outskirts swelling it to a small town.

On the 14th October 1881 a severe storm hit the coast and 189 fishermen were lost, 129 of them from Eyemouth; most were wrecked within sight of the shore. We visited the ‘Widows and Bairns’ memorial on the sea wall and tried to understand the impact of losing 129 men from a small fishing village. There is a detailed account of the disaster on the National Maritime Museum’s website, link here.

The area around the harbour still has the feel of a small village and everybody connected with the harbour seems to have three jobs, so it’s safe to say that there really aren’t any secrets.

The first of so many lovely supportive people that we meet is Wendy, the RNLI’s photographer, she would like us to sign photo release forms so that she can use the photos and videos on the RNLI’s social media pages. Obviously we are a little concerned about how we will be portrayed in the photos, but it would be churlish to refuse. As it turns out we are treated kindly on Eyemouth RNLI Facebook page.

Next we head off for a walk around the quayside just to get off the boat and clear our heads. They seem to have a strange local custom around here, as rather than greeting visitors with ‘hi, how are yooz?’ or ‘lovely afternoon’, pretty much everybody says ‘hi, how’s your engine?’.

En route to the Harbour Office to register, we call in at the RNLI Office to drop off Wendy’s photo forms. Several of the crew who rescued us are there but they relentlessly deflect our thanks and praise which is a little frustrating. This becomes a theme over the next three days as we enlist the help of a lot of people to try to investigate, diagnose and resolve our overheating issue.

One of the RNLI crew tells us about his time at Whitby, when they had a Trent class lifeboat. He said that in a north easterly winter’s gale a big wave would pick the boat up and it would surf until the wave broke over the back of the boat, pushing it underwater! He then showed us with a fluttering hand motion how the boat shuddered as it made its way back to the surface. He said that at this point he always thought the same thing; why am I here and why am I doing this?

On a more fun note we were told about Jock & Jenny by the Harbour staff. Jock & Jenny are the harbours resident swans, we had spotted them with a clutch of cute cygnets. Swans usually mate for life, but this pair had not produced a single cygnet in years; this was because Jock was sterile (who checked, how and why they checked we never found out). Jock sadly died, and in line with the inexorable decline in moral standards overseen by the outgoing government, Jenny soon found a new partner, and within a year Jock II & Jenny, much to the delight of everyone in Eyemouth now have a clutch of cygnets.

Flamingo’s saloon is bijou at best, and we can no longer ignore the fact that we have not one, but two elephants in the room.

Following the first overheat I stripped and checked the whole cooling system from the seacock, up to and including the water pump; now it seems that I have to look further. I have a chat with Dan at North Norfolk Boatyard to agree a plan and I’m soon underway with the tools again. Throughout this process, whenever I have doubted what I am doing (which is often), it is the encouragement and support that I have received from caring people that has kept me going.

It doesn’t take long to remove the external water pipes from the engine, the thermostat with its housing and the anti siphon loop, with its pipework. Each one I am hoping will be blocked, or split or malfunctioning but no. Poking about in the water jacket reveals no silting there either, not that there should be in a three year old engine that is properly winterised each season. So I have found nothing obviously wrong with the cooling system.

The second elephant in the room is the fact that at some point we will need to take this boat out to sea again, and my hearts desire is to not have to speak to Aberdeen Coast Guard ever again, or be involved with the RNLI again. The question that I have to ask myself, and there are lots of people helping me with the answer, is at what stage have I done all that can be done. I choose to get a professional engineer aboard for a second opinion, and fortunately Eyemouth Marine are at the top of the harbour. Their engineer can’t come until tomorrow but I feel much happier that we will have a second, professional opinion.

While we are waiting we head up to the chandlery to see what kind of stock they have to help us out. It is mainly a fishing industry chandlery, and all the better for it, no ‘welcome aboard’ doormats or floating key fobs, but plenty of bolts, clips and rope. Flamingo was in need of a new genoa halyard, but when I saw the price we bought a whole set. One of which I spliced and fitted in the afternoon.

While I was working on the halyard, the crew’s eyes poked over the top of Good Housekeeping magazine for a moment to inform me that tonight was going to be very good for viewing the northern lights. So it was that after a very agreeable evening in the Contented Sole, including incredible locally caught and actually cooked in the kitchen scampi, for £6.99, we found ourselves freezing on the quayside at 0100hrs with the camera and tripod.

The following night, back in the Contented Sole the friendly waitress looked at our photos, ‘they’re just funny clouds we get here’. We later discovered that they are (very rare) noctilucent clouds formed from ice crystals high in the atmosphere, they glow because the sun is only just below the horizon.

It pains me to write this next bit because we have been treated royally in this beautiful country, but what is it with Scotland, pubs and beer? Before the Contented Sole we visited a pub described as a hidden gem, we quickly found out why it was hidden. First impressions on entering were reminiscent of the Slaughtered Lamb from An American Werewolf in London. We were however greeted by a cheery barmaid who asked what we would like; the options were between a two foot tall illuminated pump dispensing Tennents lager, a second dingy pump selling Bellhaven bitter, and a third, also selling Tennants. The problem here is that Tennents isn’t drinking beer, and neither is Bellhaven. So I ended up drinking from a bottle of effete lager in a pub full of people who pull the heads off cod for fun. Our beloved Contented Sole (‘best beer in Eyemouth’) had a Green King IPA pump, and a Bellhaven pump, the IPA was off though.

Marine engineer Paul arrived the following day to check out Flamingo’s cooling system, and to be honest couldn’t find anything much wrong with it. We discussed whether the pump could be sucking in air somewhere, and with that in mind he set off to get a new raw water filter that he had in his garage, while I set about completing the rest of the jobs that he recommended.

I decided that all new hoses would be a good idea so I set off back to the chandlery with the old pipe as reference, in the certain knowledge that they would have exactly this sort of thing in stock by the kilometre. ‘No mate, we don’t have that, you need to be at Hose World of Eyemouth’. Of course I do!

If you ever find yourself in need of hose and are in the vicinity of Eyemouth then Hose World of Eyemouth is the place for you. It’s a tough cycle ride uphill into a full F8 gale but they are friendly, efficient and two metres of hose and four new clips came to £12. Plus, freewheeling back to the harbour is a breeze, certainly easier than cycling round North Shields with 6ft lengths of fender board over your shoulder.

In less than an hour I have completed the repairs that Paul has recommended, we have all new: hoses & clips; raw water filter; pump impeller & wear plate. The thermostat has been checked and refitted and the engine has been run for an hour, in drive, pushing against its lines. Everybody agrees (and a lot of knowledgeable people have had their two penn’orth) that there is no more that we can do, but that nagging doubt won’t go away, I’d love to have found a fault.

You’ll know from the banana thing that we are a superstitious boat, and there is a very real danger here of tempting fate, in writing, and then having it bite us in the transom. But if I’m going to write this blog I can’t just keep talking around things. So I agree that there is probably nothing more that we can do (for now), and tomorrow we go back to sea.

It’s not all been worry and repairs in Eyemouth, we have enjoyed some lovely cliff walks past the site of a French Fort at Dual Cannons to the beach at Killedraught Bay.

Next episode, actual sailing.

Tucked up in bed at 0730 with a cup of tea, anchored in the Lindisfarne anchorage we are discussing our plans. We will spend today Wednesday, exploring the island and then make a bolt for Eyemouth early on Thursday because the weather is forecast to turn nasty on Friday.

As any diligent crew will do though, we check the inshore waters forecast. The wind is going to be worse than previously predicted, and will arrive 36 hours early. A new plan is required, immediately.

Many years ago, on a Dinghy S.I. course the instructors impressed on us the need to avoid having a ‘Baywatch moment’, this is where you act before thinking and start a chain of events that cannot be reversed. The worst thing that we can do right now is have a “Baywatch moment”

We are up, dressed and breakfast is underway as I poke my head out of the hatch to check that we are still where we anchored, but it’s anybodies guess, fog.

As I prepare a new plan, there are brief moments of improved visibility that allow us to establish that the anchor has held. There is pressure to act quickly but we resist, taking time to share a full run through of the plan, and double check the new waypoints that we will use to pilot us into Eyemouth.

By 0850 we are underway with a new plan in place, we will reverse the pilotage to get out of the anchorage, then sail/motor the 15NM to the start of our new pilotage plan which will guide us safely between the Hinkar and Buss Hard rocks and into Eyemouth.

We need a big shout-out (sorry, I know I’m not 12) to Charlie at Eyemouth HM office. We have phoned early to check availability but there was no reply, ten minutes later a super cheerful Charlie rings us back, assures us that there will be a berth and all will be fine. He then WhatsApps us a port guide and berthing plan. When you are on your own, a long way from home and facing a challenge, a friendly, reassuring voice means a lot; Charlie, at Eyemouth is looking after us.

By the time we depart visibility is 50 to 100m and we are working our way from waypoint to waypoint, using Cross Track Error to keep us on the line. The flooding tide is playing havoc with our course, but with Belinda managing the navigation side from the companionway, and me helming we are clear of the island and its associated hazards in under an hour, waypointed buoys looming into view at well under a cable distance.

Our next big shock, and we have been warned about this, is that despite there having been no worthwhile breeze for five days there is a rather steep and confused one metre swell. And no breeze, zero!

We are now firmly in the Ratray Head to Berwick on Tweed weather forecast area and we have been speculating about when we will move out of Humber Coast Guard’s area of influence. The Maritime Safety Information Broadcast gives us a hint as we receive broadcasts from Humber, followed by Aberdeen, although at what point we cross over is still unclear.

Before long we are settled on track, motoring once again with the autohelm doing its thing. Reviewing the plan as we plunge into the fog we are pretty happy, we have made the right decision to move, we have a good plan in place and the assurance of a safe berth at the end.

Regular sweeps with the AIS and the old-school analogue radar confirm that there is nobody out there to hit and we are happy with our little lot until…….

A pilot whale surfaces and crosses right under our bow, this is an absolute ‘wow’ moment for us and we are both utterly thrilled, so exciting. This is looking like being one of those challenging days at Sea where you get to use your skills and knowledge to deliver a well planned and executed passage, until……

The engine burble turns to a bark once again, the overheat alarm sounds seconds later and we shut down the engine. We are now bobbing about in a half to one metre swell with no engine and no wind. For anyone not familiar with the system, Flamingo has a ‘wet’ exhaust which absolutely relies on cooling water to prevent the hot exhaust gasses from melting the rubber and plastic exhaust system. Running the engine while overheated is not an option.

Our analysis of the situation is remarkably calm, rapid and conclusive. There is no wind, sailing is not an option. I carry out the basic waterflow checks to no avail, the engine is not an option. Our current set and drift will result in us being on the rocks, in a 1m swell in about an hour, this will result in the loss of the boat and possibly the crew. It is quite possible that the engine could be left to cool for about 30 minutes, and may then resume normal service,but then again it may not and we would then be 30 minutes from the rocks.

The only option is to make that call, the one that all sailors have run-through in their heads, but who to call, Humber or Aberdeen? We are north of Berwick, in Scottish water so it’s ‘Aberdeen Coastguard, Aberdeen Coastguard, Aberdeen Coastguard, Yacht Flamingo, over’

It’s not a Mayday, and to be honest I bottle the decision on a Pan Pan, allowing the CG to make the decision. The questioning is professional but relentless, position, set & drift, callsign, weather & seastate, safety equipment, can we anchor (in 36m)?the list goes on and on.

After a brief pause Aberdeen comes back to us to say that they are getting us some help. Then the phone goes, it’s Charlie, ‘what time do you think you’ll be in?’, I explain the situation and he says ‘I know, the lifeboat has just left’. As it turns out, it’s not just Charlie, everybody in Eyemouth knows.

While we are waiting we start to prepare Flamingo for her second tow during our time with her. Very quickly the Eyemouth Lifeboat appears on the AIS, and I’m thinking please let it be the Atlantic RIB, maybe we could sneak into Eyemouth unnoticed under cover of fog. It is obvious from their course that they know where we are from the position we gave, and their radar but because of the poor visibility they approach on a parallel course.

How do we feel when the latest Shannon class lifeboat reveals herself about 100m away? Talking it over later we agree that there was very little emotion, we knew they were there and we knew that we now had to deal with the tow, so we got on with it.

The first task is to catch and attach the tow lines that they throw, which we achieve first time. The tow line is a double bridle, in what looks like 30mm Dyneema, its a bit over the top and only just goes under our cleats; I think to myself that you could tow a tanker with this, but I guess they do. We then have to give formal permission to be towed, I wonder what has gone wrong with the world that these people need permission to help us!

During this time the sea is an absolute maelstrom and the water almost white with the air entrained by the boats water jet propulsion. What I know for sure is that while I deal with my tasks, the crew are focussed and calm, no Baywatch moments. Belinda helms throughout while I busy myself faffing about tidying lines and anything else that might get sucked into an engine or otherwise compromise the rescue.

Towing at 6.5kts we arrive at Eyemouth Harbour entrance in about 15 minutes, the log book is short on detail during this time but looking at it now I see that I finished talking to Aberdeen CG at 1220 and we were in the Harbour by 1320. Throughout the tow the lifeboat crew exchange regular thumbs-up with Belinda as she helms. As we approach the harbour entrance the fog draws back like a pair of curtains and any chance of a seruptitios arrival evaporates like the fog. Who doesn’t want to see real-life rescue?

In the small bay outside the harbour we transfer to an alongside tow ready for berthing.

There is only one hour of the new flood tide in the harbour so we dock in the deep water outer harbour while the lifeboat refuels. The coxswain seems impressed that at the push of a button we can reduce our draft to 0.5m, especially as it means that they can drop us off as soon as they have refuelled. In fact he said that if we had a fixed Keel they would have left us on the wall to sort out our own tow later.

The crew of the RNLB Helen Hastings are the model of professionalism and kindness, assuring us that we have done the right thing. They talk mainly to Belinda, assuming by now I think that she is the skipper. One of the crew, having watched us raise the keel takes a walk along the side deck of the lifeboat, giving Flamingo the once over, as he reaches our cockpit he nods and says ‘tidy boat’. That’ll do us.

With the Lifeboat fueled we are moved round to the visitor berths where Charlie is ready to greet us. We are rafted outside a beautiful 32ft Sparkman & Stephens, which is similar to parking next to a 1960’s Bentley.  Within an hour the harbour team decide to move us to the inside, on the grounds that we’re going to be here for a while, and will be having engineers on and off the boat.

Obviously, on a British registered ship there can be only one response to any crisis, kettle on, tea. There will be time to reflect and analyse what has gone on later. As soon as the Helen Hastings disappears from sight, the whole episode (ordeal isn’t the right word) seems a little surreal, almost as if it had happened to someone else and we had watched it. The only evidence of our rescue is our filthy fenders and topsides, that big rubbing strip on the Shannon Class doesn’t half make a mess.

Whitby certainly didn’t disappoint, we have visited so many times over the years by land, but being here with Flamingo adds a whole other dimension.

We indulge ourselves for a couple of days with some significant highlights. Following a recomendation we trudge up the 199 steps to the Abbey and from there have a pleasant walk along the cliff path towards Robin Hood’s Bay, calling at the excellent Whitby Brewery Tap on our way back. Despite me having been allowed to cultivate the beard a little, I’m not sure that we quite fit the demographic for this ultra hipster bar, but we sit quietly in the corner and enjoy a pint and a half of excellent Whitby Pale, all for £6.

The absolute highlight of the trip however was a supper of kippers from Fortune’s, surely this is the inspiration for the Ambrosia of myth.

Remarkably, because they are proper smoked kippers, rather than being chemically flavoured and coloured, the smell in the boat diminishes after only a few weeks.

Sat aboard in the evening with a nice glass of Ghost Ship we notice increasing numbers of bubbles rising from the seabed, and by low water the harbour is almost boiling. The harbour office offers the explanation that it is leaves rotting on the bed of the river and producing methane. The weight of the water holds it in the seabed at high water, but as the tide ebbs, the pressure is released and the bubbles escape. We speculate over the wisdom of striking a match and chucking it in. It’s interesting how the leaves only gather under the rows of boats with sea toilets………

At 0630hrs on the 26th June we slip our lines to catch the last bridge out of Whitby, heading for Royal Quays marina on the Tyne. We are now both beginning to feel a long way from home which brings some feelings of apprehension, our inshore waters forecast area is now Berwick on Tweed to Whitby. We are no further away from Brancaster than we would be if we had headed south to Ramsgate, but this is all new to us.

Planning for the trip to the Tyne is quite simple in principle, turn left out of Whitby steer 315° towards my waypoint at Tynemouth, then two miles up the river to the lock, which with luck will be on freeflow. We will get the benefit of six hours of fair tide starting at 0700hrs, but even at springs the tidal flows up here don’t amount to too much. It is a release to be on passage without tide constraints at the end, and no schedule to keep.

Although the forecast of S or SE 3-5 veering SW 2-4 looks ideal for a leisurely passage the feeling aboard is that the winds will be lighter, and that the diesel and autohelm will have a big part to play in our day out.

On a beautiful sunny morning we are greeted outside the breakwater by a mirror flat sea and no wind as we suspected, we are becoming increasingly enamoured with PassageWeather.com which has predicted this.

By 0900hrs the wind picks up, from WSW and we are able to just lay the course and are making 5.8kts towards our destination.

By 1000hrs we are passing Hartlepool and there is a commercial ship ahead that I will need to watch as it looks to be crossing my track. This is where the technology really helps out with stress free, enjoyable passage making. With the autohelm on I am able to head below without the need to wake the sleeping crew, and the AIS quickly tells me that the Marfaam is at anchor in the Echo Anchorage. All of this can be achieved without the technology but it takes time, requires waking the crew, and causes stress.

By 1100hrs the wind has all but deserted us and we are motorsailing to keep the speed above 2kts.

As we approach the Souter Lighthouse, three miles south of the Tyne the VHF crackles into life, a small angling boat has lost engine power, is unsure of their position and requires help. The coastguard issues a Pan Pan requesting any vessels in the area to assist. Because we can hear the vessel in distress we know they must be close by, and fairly quickly another power vessel offers them a tow.

It would be very easy at this point to assume that all is well and sail on, conditions are benign, the coastguard is coordinating and help is on its way. But you simply cannot do that, it’s wrong.

The vessel in distress has given a visual description of their position, we can see a vessel in that approximate position but with the binoculars we can clearly see that it is moving. About a mile ahead of us and off to port are two vessels, one of which matches the desctiption so we head over to them. As we approach we suspect that we have the wrong boat as the occupants are all actively fishing, but shouted enquiries reveal that we have found the missing vessel; their engine was in bits but the crew certainly weren’t in any state of distress. We relayed their position to Humber Coast Guard, stood by until the tow arrived and were then merrily on our way.

We declined to take the boat in tow, it was probably a bit big for us to tow; help was on its way, we were mindful of our overheating problem and they clearly weren’t in distress. In different circumstances we would have done everything possible, we certainly didn’t leave until they were safe.

As we resumed our passage towards Tyneside we passed a second anchored angling vessel only 300m from the first, we assumed that they had their VHF switched off, we’ve certainly done that at anchor, but I think we need to reconsider in future.

This was a bumper passage for wildlife with dolphins and a pilot whale spotted in the distance again, and endless amusing Puffins everywhere.

Our brief delay worked out well for us as we arrived at Royal Quays Marina at the start of freeflow, we were met by the super friendly and helpful docking team who managed to hex our usual and well rehearsed berthing plan, leaving us temporarily adrift and embarrassed in a berth. Order was soon restored and no damage resulted.

Prior to this trip the furthest north that we have ever taken Flamingo is Skegvegas, and here we are now, sat in the cockpit in sunny Tyneside. I have cunningly stowed away another pair of Fortune’s kippers, so we dine like God’s for a second consecutive evening. Next stop is the anchorage at Linsidfarne, it looks fabulous but will require some careful inshore pilotage. It also appears to be dotted somewhere in the North Sea, open to all sorts of swell and wind.

I was determined to not like Scarborough because I had wanted to go straight to Whitby, but we loved it. The fact that the summer finally poked its head above the parapet may have helped, and at 11.7°C the sea was tolerable for a swim.

On the morning after our arrival we set off to explore the town, a local chap in a battered 4×4 pulled up to park where I was stood, wound down his window and told us to rush up to the sea wall as there was a pod of dolphins swimming down the coast. Now dolphins have been a talisman for us throughout the planning of this trip, and the idea that we might see them at our first stop was beyond belief. Up on the harbour wall, and there they were, leaping clear of the water as they travelled down the coast. After Gannets and Puffins this was too good to be true, a proper hairs on the back of the neck moment.

The people who run Scarborough deserve a deal of credit, there are beautiful parks everywhere, including the lovely Peasoholme Park with its legendary naval battle re-enactments on the lake. So many impressive buildings from its victoriana heyday have been preserved and re-purposed, especially on the South Cliff.

We also discovered an old market hall with a brick vaulted basement, cast iron roof and mezanine level that had been restored and revived as………..a new market hall, with food and drinks alongside traditional green grocers and bakers. While we were there it really struck home that we had turned left out of Brancaster not right, when a lady in one of the smart cafés in the market hall ordered ‘beans on toast please love’, you don’t get that so much in Suffolk; Essex maybe.

The sea front is much like any English seaside town with fish & chip restaurants, sea food stalls and penny arcades interspersed with some decent (and some less decent) pubs. A stroll along the prom left us both feeling quite slim and attractive, much like a trip to Asda. Scarborough has the feeling of a town that is secure in its Yorkshire identity.

Scarborough to Whitby is an interesting sailing challenge, at less than 14NM it is a short passage but there are tidal constraints at each end, much like Wells to Brancaster. As soon after low water as Scarborough Harbour Master will allow it you need to be out and on your way, picking up the fair tide immediately. At the Whitby end you need to arrive in time to catch the last bridge opening to access the marina two hours after high water.

As we slipped out of Scarborough harbour at 1000hrs we both said that we wished that we could have stayed longer. The wind, as forecast was dead on the nose and even with a fair tide behind us we were forced to motor to keep on schedule for the bridge at Whitby. The wildlife didn’t disappoint as we spotted more dolphins in the distance, plus what turned out to be a pilot whale about a hundred metres off our port side.

To keep moving on a trip of this magnitude it is sometimes necessary to make passages under engine, historically it has irritated me because I like to sail, but I am beginning to embrace it. About four miles north of Scarborough the burble of the exhaust turned to a bark and seconds later the overheat alarm sounded. A quick peek over the transom showed exhaust gases but no water emerging from the exhaust pipe.

Under these circumstances the engine has to be shut down immediately to avoid permanent damage to the engine or exhaust system. Belinda takes care of helming and planning, sailing us back to Scarborough, as Whitby is unattainable against this northerly wind. I speak to Scarborough who agree our plan to sail back and anchor to attempt repairs in the bay, with a view to motoring in or getting a tow at high water. We are anchored off the RNLI Lifeboat Station so we should be OK.

As Belinda takes charge above decks I strip and examine the cooling system, seacock, pipework, raw water filter and impellor all seem to be working faultlessly, a complete mystery. On restarting the engine an hour later the cooling system seems to be working fine and we motor back to our berth to enjoy the extra day in Scarborough that we craved. We have to assume that we have picked up a plastic bag, or a jellyfish over the water inlet and that it has now dislodged itself.

Two days later we motorsail up to Whitby in company with our new friends Paul and Mark who are circumnavigating Britain anticlockwise in a 23ft Swallow Bay Cruiser, Grace. I find that there is a lot to learn from them, they seem to cherish every moment in the boat, for them a motor sail is a joyful day on the water, not a compromise. I (we) need to learn from this.

Grace leaving Whitby

Off Robin Hood’s Bay Grace call us up to suggest that we go further off shore as they have just become entangled in a fishing net.

Entry into Whitby is not difficult in the benign conditions, but you must take great care to stay on the leading line to avoid the rocks and shoals immediately to the east of the entrance. We are developing a system using waypoints, and the Cross Track Error (CTE) feature on the GPS to keep us dead on track. We need to perfect this technique if we are to avoid the rocks in Scotland, should we ever get there.

By 1430 we are at the Whitby NCM, and by 1510 we have squeezed the boat into a tight spot, rafted alongside a boat in an advanced state of decreptitude.

We now have a day and a half to enjoy Whitby, and it now looks like it will have its work cut out to rival sunny Scarborough.

After the previous post I got a few technical sailing questions.

Watch System

Firstly some detail on watches. With two people aboard, on a passage up to 12 hours duration we wouldn’t have a formal watch plan, each of us will grab some sleep when it is convenient. Belinda can sleep anywhere and through anything so she gets really valuable rest. In testing conditions Belinda prefers me to be in the cockpit, even if I’m not helming. I will often nap on the lee side of the cockpit so I’m available.

I find it harder to sleep on passage so I tend to rest during more settled conditions, even being below decks, out of the wind and noise is a big help. I would aim to rest perhaps one hour in five.

One thing that does really help to reduce fatigue is to use the autohelm when the conditions allow, and the auotohelm can cope.

On an extended solo night sail last year I used the autohelm to facilitate a seven minute micro-nap each hour, which worked quite well.

With three aboard we have used our dream watch system, one hour off, one hour available to assist and one hour helming. Twenty four hours, Southwold to Ijmuiden, no problem.

Reefing

We have conventional slab reefing, with eyes at the tack, and reefing lines led back to the cockpit. This does mean than someone (me, since Belinda’s ACL disaster) does have to go to the mast to attach the reefing eyes to the horn at the gooseneck. We have an ingenious shock cord loop at the gooseneck, which holds the eye onto the horn so it can’t slip off as I am returning to the cockpit.

We can tie a reef in very easily, it takes no more than sixty seconds, shaking a reef out perhaps two minutes. Normal procedure is for me to decide the number of reefs required (n), Belinda then suggests n+1 and invariably turns out to be right.

I have never used a single line reefing system, I read and hear a lot of stories about them being hampered by friction. I know sailors who use them very effectively.

Navigation

Flamingo does not have a chart plotter, the bulk of our navigation is done on paper charts with a pencil. We have a rudimentary GPS receiver in the cabin, with a repeater in the cockpit which displays a rolling road to next waypoint, distance to go, SOG etc. We do generally sail from WPT to WPT, using the rolling road in the cockpit for guidance.

Having said that there is no chart plotter, we rely heavily on the Navionics app, running on a cheap Android tablet, this has proved to be invaluable and reliable; and a bargain at £39 a year.

Our VHF radio includes an AIS receiver which overlays its information onto Navionics. This works really well but if I were starting again I’d install a transmitter too, to move some of the onus onto the other vessel.

By the time that we are ready to leave Brancaster, heading north on our 2024 adventure it is 16th June, and Flamingo has been in the water for the grand total of five days. I think we need more time to shake out the inevitable problems that always follow the winter break. The crew think that I should chill out and worry less. I have a lovely book at home with definitions of sailing terms; in the book the skipper is defined as “The chap that does the worrying, usually dad”.

There are a number of ways to break this passage into smaller chunks, but we have opted to go for it, and get some miles under our belts. I favour heading direct for Whitby, the crew favours Scarborough; after  a short meeting we agree on a compromise and head for Scarborough.

Our plan is to pass outside the wind farm, then outside the Donna Nook firing range. We will then head up the Humber to cross at the recommended crossing point, from there we will give Flamborough head a two mile offing to avoid the overalls and finally head straight for Scarborough, taking in the wildlife along Bempton Cliffs.

The forecast couldn’t be better, westerly F3-5 backing to southerly and easing. We should be able to reach all the way on port tack, and make really good pace, it sounds too good to be true. It also means that the Starboard cabin berth will be available for off watch crew to rest and sleep. We have chatted with Scarborough Port Control, and despite some ambiguity in the pilot book, they assure us that they will get us into the harbour on our arrival.

Our alarms sound at 0200hrs and we are underway by 0230hrs with a cup of warming tea inside us. Belinda spots us out of the harbour with the big torch on the bow, and by 0330 we are broad reaching under full white sail in 14 to 18kts of breeze. It is cold, ski base layers, fleece lined trousers plus oilies.

Food is key to maintaining morale on a passage like this and we feast on pre-made marmalade sandwiches, forged from a wholemeal loaf from Howell’s in Wells, and marmalade made by a friend, washed down with fresh coffee. The day’s food is all prepared and stowed safely in the fridge. Flamingo’s favourite sandwiches, egg and cress; lamb samosas, scotch egg and vegan sausage rolls (actually they’re quite good), all from Howell’s.

Also key is ensuring that the crew is rested, so sticking to a watch  system is important, with this in mind Belinda retires to the leeward berth to sleep while I tackle the first leg.

Steering 135° to 145° with full sail and the westerly wind rising we are soon making 5.8 to 6.4kts as the eastern sky gradually lightens. This is fantastic pace, and will stand us in good stead later in the passage, but we are pretty much out of control much of the time. As we leave the protection of the Norfolk coast the waves rolling out of the Wash further add to the discomfort/excitement. Sets of three or four waves are rolling under Flamingo’s quarter, heeling her way over to leeward, as she rights herself the sails power up and she careens out of control down the next wave.  Belinda is asleep and I am having a ball helming but this is not sustainable, we need to reef.

Despite the plan to pass outside the wind farm I do cut the corner inside the last turbine, I can feel the Humber calling. We are already spotting Gannets which are right up there with Oyster Catchers as some of my favourite coastal birds. An exciting part of this trip is the anticipation of seeing cliff birds and hopefully some aquatic wildlife, in place of the waders and porpoises that we usually see in the south east.

After a call of ‘all hands’ at 0430hrs we tie in one reef, followed an hour later by a second, while progressively rolling the genoa. Obviously this heralds a drop in the wind (but a start of the rain) and we are soon back under full sail as we contact VTS Humber on entering their sphere of influence at the Donna Nook firing range DZ3 buoy.

We have prepared very carefully because VTS Humber have a reputation of being workmanlike at best, I have to report that their operators were the model of professionalism and couldn’t have been more helpful. As result we are north of the Humber without incident and the sun is making an appearance by 1030hrs. Crossing the Humber was aided massively by some expert plotting and AIS interpretation by the crew.

We now had a 30 mile broad reach to Flamborough Head which was characterised by infuriatingly fickle winds from 8kts to 22kts. This made it very difficult to keep sufficient sail on, and maintain a good pace. On the plus side, the sun was now shining and I managed  two good periods of sleep. Interestingly, while I slept the wind blew solidly and Belinda made fantastic progress, while Belinda slept the wind was infuriatingly fickle.

As we approached Flamborough Head, one of those grotty grey squalls started to head our way, just like the ones that seem to roll off the land between Wells and Brancaster. It looked nasty so we took in a second reef, and rolled two thirds of the genoa.

With hindsight three reefs and no genoa might have been a better sail plan. In seconds the wind rose from 8kts to 35kts and for 15 minutes, in driving rain we were in survival mode. Being a squall we knew that it wouldn’t last long and by 1745hrs we were off Flamborough Head in lovely sunshine and 15kts of breeze.

Once round Flamborough Head the plan was to sail close in to have a look at the recommended anchorage at North Landing, and then the wildlife along Bempton Cliffs. Sadly the wind hadn’t backed or eased as forecast, so what should have been a leisurely birdwatching end to the day turned into a three hour fetch towards Scarborough. We couldn’t quite lay the port so despite growing tiredness I sailed 20° above the desired course in winds of 18 to 27kts, not the relaxing end to the passage we had hoped for. During one gust I looked down into the cabin to see the crew asleep with the window above her under water!

Great excitement on this leg as we spotted Puffins for the first time. Beautiful and iconic British sea birds, but willfully crap at flying, landing and taking off.

By 2000hrs we had sailed to within three miles of the harbour entrance, so with the engine driving us and the sails furled we bashed head to wind up to our destination. At 2030 Belinda called up Scarborough LPS on the VHF radio to announce our triumphant arrival, only to be told that we would have to wait 40 minutes due to a stubborn sand bank in the harbour. Exactly what makes a sand bank ‘stubborn’ I have no idea, but there it was.

At 2110 we finally entered the port, expertly guided by the duty watch keeper who had walked down to the pontoon to ensure that we got in safely.

After 89 miles, and 19 hours sailing we are safely tucked up in Scarborough with our first objective achieved. We have managed the watch system and the food rather better than in previous years, and although tired we are in pretty good shape. Now for some well earned sleep ready to explore Scarborough tomorrow, then off to Whitby on Tuesday.

Given the very short time that Flamingo has been afloat this year I feel like the crew have got up to speed very quickly. There have been some teething troubles with the boat that would have been ironed out during a normal spring time, but we are here and our 2024 adventure is underway.

A great deal of water has flowed under a number of bridges since we left Flamingo with a broken wing at Fosydyke Yacht Haven in 2020. We have managed to have trips away to Suffolk, Essex and increasingly Kent each summer but no big adventure.

This year however we have a plan. Having been defeated three times in our efforts to sail anticlockwise around the UK, we have adopted a new ambition, which is to sail up the east coast, through the Caledonian Canal and into the Western Isles of Scotland.

As I write this aboard Flamingo in Scarborough harbour the boat has been in the water for only six days. We returned from an extended trip abroad just two weeks before the launch, and the transition from 30° heat to the English summer of 2024 has been something of a shock.

Watching hail bounce around Flamingo’s cockpit at Brancaster on the evening before our departure was worrying, because the first leg of our trip, Brancaster to Scarborough is an ambitious one and will require the weather to cooperate.

Flaming June, 2024 style

So, after a pleasant Saturday evening in the BSSC clubhouse we retire early to our berths, ready for 0200hrs alarms, and the beginings of our adventure.

I feel like it’s going to take a while to get back into the groove of writing and photographing this blog, but here we go.

With a two day, one night passage from Pin Mill to Brancaster ahead of us we are having to make plans that are constrained by a growing list of equipment failures aboard. The engine cannot be relied upon and we are going to treat it as absolute emergency use only. We are also going to try to not take the boat anywhere that we can’t reliably sail out of.

With half of the house battery bank now dead we have limited electrical power, and unable to visit marinas for shorepower, or run the engine, battery charging is now entrusted completely to our two solar panels. Electricity now has to be severely rationed, at times we can use the navigation instruments or the VHF radio!

We also now have an intermittent fault on the LED masthead navigation light; the deck level nav lights that we can use as an alternative consume too much current. So no night sailing.

It feels like the scene from the Apollo 13 movie where they are trying to work out how to power up the LEM ready to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere. Mind you they got three guys back from a quarter of a million miles away in a space ship that had partly exploded; and they didn’t even have mobile phones.

I have often thought that we are over-reliant on the boats engine and hanker after the simpler days of engineless Wayfarer sailing at Morston. The boat still sails fine so with good planning and a bit of luck it should be entirely possible to sail home. I feel that this is as much an intellectual challenge as a physical one, if we are patient and make good decisions there is no reason that we can’t complete this passage.

Day 1. Pin Mill to Winterton-on-Sea

At 0550 we slip the lines on our buoy on the Orwell to take the last of the ebb down river and out through the container port to sea. There is a beautiful sunrise as we say farewell to the river that has been our home for most of the last month. This first section up to Aldeburgh will be sailed against the tide so we keep to the shallow water right in against the coast. The forecast SW F3 to F4 is tending to be slightly less than we would like, especially so close to the coast. We make good progress up the coast using Woodbridge Haven and Orford Haven as waypoints; difficult to sail past these places when we would so love to visit, but Flamingo needs and deserves some TLC.

We further hug the coast through Hollesley Bay past the former MOD site on Orford Ness where I belive they undertook research into increasing chrysanthemum yields or something similar. It must have been important because all these years after WWII has ended visits by the public are severely restricted to certain areas.

Only a mile or so further along the coast we come across the remains of Orford lighthouse, now sadly demolished. The lighthouse, which was a traditional stumpy red and white pepper pot building always felt like a turning point on this journey. What I don’t understand is how you can demolish a red and white lighthouse and not end up with any red or white rubble.

By now, creeping along right next to the beach and taking photos with my long lens had attracted the attention of the MOD, and they sent a chap with binoculars in a landrover to look at me as I looked at him through my binoculars. He didn’t wave.

At this stage we were ahead of schedule so we opted for the route inside Aldeburgh Ridge, rather than heading offshore into the last of the foul tide. This requires some careful pilotage as depths around the ridge have been changing rapidly over recent years, this is where the winter evenings correcting charts pays off.

From here the tide began to fill in behind us and our speed over the ground began increasing, peaking at an unprecedented 9.2kts as we passed Lowestoft. Fortunately we were going fast enough to stop the crew jumping ship as we passed the cruise ship Aurora anchored off Southwold; apparently there has been a mysterious drop in demand for cruise holidays this year.

As we reached late afternoon the weather forecast was developing with more stronger westerly winds predicted. This did not suit phase two of our passage and we looked longingly at the green, white, green lights inviting us into Lowestoft. Shore power, buy a new battery and wait for better weather? Fortunately (very fortunately as it turns out) our resolve held and we used the remainder of the fair tide to sail up to the very pretty Winterton-on-Sea where we anchored at 1800hrs for a pleasant if slightly rolly night.

Electrical power is now critical and we are having to ration water (electric pump) and cooking (electric gas solenoid). On the plus side the old paraffin lamp that I bought is proving invaluable.

Would the engine have changed this passage measurably, the answer I think is yes. We would probably have motored down the Orwell in the very light winds, and pushed on the extra seven NM to Sea Palling at the end of the day.

Day 2. Winterton-on-Sea to Brancaster Staithe

The dilema with this next part of the trip is that your course at the start of the day is northerly but bends throughout the day until you reach Blakeney when you are sailing due west. Ideally a westerly breeze which backs to south is perfect but you could wait a long time for that to happen; and we can’t wait anchored here.

Our forecast is for WSW winds, veering westerly F4-F5, occasionally F6. This is less than ideal but WSW at the start of the day is good, we can work our way through the early foul tide. Once we turn west, if the wind turns out to be at the lower end of the forecast strength, and with the tide behind us we might be able to make progress. There is a danger however that if the wind is nearer F6, blowing against the spring tide the sea will build up horribly.

Another 0550 start to a beautiful sunrise and perfect WSW winds. We make great progress until about 1100hrs when slowly but surely our world begins to unravel. The wind veers to westerly and now blows solidly at F6, double reefed and with a scrap of genoa we are now beating into a tide that is intent on pushing us back to the east. The waves are getting steeper and taller, each one knocking us back with a shudder, or dropping us into the trough with a bang. The wind is now shrieking constantly which saps our energy, but all of the time we know that if we can keep it together for another hour the fair tide will kick in and we might just make it.

But over a period of 15 minutes it becomes clear that we are not going to make it. We are heading towards Brancaster at a rate of 0.2kts, and we still have 30 miles to go. I have been watching the rig and the leeward shrouds are completely slack in the gusts. This is especially worrying as the shrouds on Flamingo are set up using the Parkinson-Fosdyke method; tighten the cap shrouds until the heads door won’t open, then back them off two turns. Tight!

Looking at the crew it is clear that she has had enough and so have I. If we continue we will make a mistake, or somebody will get hurt, or we will break the boat.

With an engine this would be a boring, uncomfortable but effective delivery trip, motoring along the coast out of trouble, but we don’t have that option. To prove it we see two boats plugging their way north under engine, each making heavy weather of it even before they turn west.

Almost without words we agree that we have had enough, and after eight hours of battling to the west we turn and run east, giving away those hard won miles so, so easily. This is such a relief but also so difficult to deal with, we have fought so hard together for eight hours to get this far west. With the wind now behind us, and its apparent strength reduced our afternoon settles into an exciting ‘downhill’ sleighride as we surf down the following breakers. Each wave threatens to poop us but they haven’t reckoned with the mighty Flamingo who rises majestically over each one.

With Belinda now helming I settle in the corner of the cockpit to consider our next move, but I can’t even think. I am so utterly exhausted both mentally and physically that I can do nothing! Belinda spots this and won’t even allow me to helm.

After a couple of hours rest, some food and a cup of tea we are able to start looking at what to do next. The absence of an engine is debilitating. We can get to Lowestoft by dark, but can’t go in safely. We could run all the way back to the Orwell by breakfast, but have no nav lights for night sailing. Our decision is to follow the curve of the coast to somewhere near Great Yarmouth where we should get some protection in the lee of the shore, there we will anchor overnight. It may be a bit rough but it will be safe and we can then get some sleep and formulate a new plan; probably back to the Orwell to wait for better weather on Thursday.

As we follow the coast we are pushed out to sea by a shoal patch extending half a mile out, marked by people exercising horses ankle deep in water. Once past this and back into the coast we find relatively flat water and anchor back in our old spot at Winterton-on-Sea. Fifty five miles sailed in 14 hours, total progress zero, it takes some effort to square this in our minds. We tried without an engine and we failed, can we do it at all?

Tomorrow’s forecast looks even worse for a second attempt on Brancaster, WSW veering all the way round to NE, ideal for heading south back to the Orwell though.

Day 3. Winterton-on-Sea to Brancaster Staithe

Such was my tiredness from the previous day that overnight I convinced myself that our daughter Paige had sailed with us yesterday. Now, three days later I am still clear that that is what happened. Strange what tiredness and stress can do to the mind.

In this befuddled state however I had formulated a cunning plan, a plan so cunning that a fox with a yachtmaster ocean qualification would have struggled to devise it.

From the Met Office charts I had plotted out the likely wind direction hour by hour throughout the day. All that was required for success was for the Met Office to be 100% correct; I told you I was not thinking straight!

We would fetch along the coast in the WSW winds to Trimmingham, using the last of the morning’s fair tide. Then, as the wind began to veer and the tide turned against we would anchor through the worst of the foul tide while the wind veered to NNW. With the wind in the NNW, and a new fair tide running we would reach along to Brancaster Staithe arriving at 2000hrs in time to sail into the harbour to the heroes welcome that must surely await. There we can wait, recharge our batteries literally and figuratively, and wait for a perfect forecast to sail up to Fosdyke.

After what feels like a lie in we are away at 0700hrs and the plan is working. We are fetching up the coast close in to the beach making good progress. As we pass Mundsley we spot their inshore lifeboat heading our way. After a pleasant chat they ask if they can practice coming alongside exercises because they don’t often see yachts sailing close enough to the shore. Well, you’d be a fool to say no to the lifeboat, it’d be like taking bananas or a vicar aboard and then not expecting bad luck.

With the wind forecast to veer towards the north later we allow ourselves to be pushed out to sea north of Cromer. This is where the single greatest tack in our sailing history began. Tacking onto starboard about four miles off Cromer we were making a course of due south, when we should be heading west. However if the tide behaves as expected (if it doesn’t something very bad has happened to the moon) and the wind veers as forecast our heading should gradually improve to the point where we can comfortably sail west. And this is exactly what happened, the Met Office were true to their word as our course slowly but steadily turned from south to west. We didn’t quite clear Blakeney Point but tacked out once at Cley and then reached, in diminishing winds towards Brancaster, home, safety and rest.

With the wind falling and the last of the fair tide behind us our speed slowed and our e.t.a. dropped  back to 2100. Off Scolt Head Island, with the wind again increasing we began to prepare for our entry to the harbour. The plan is to run the engine in neutral to give us some extra amps  to help raise the keel, we have cunningly kept the engine starting battery isolated and about 3/4 full. Sadly over the last few days the engine has lost its battle with salt water corrosion and makes no effort to fire, this is a psychological blow. We knew that the engine was not to be relied on but in the back of our minds we knew that last time we tried it it ran OK. Never mind, we now have breeze, we can sail in. Belinda suggests testing the keel which hasn’t been raised for a month, so I hit the up button, nothing!

It appears that there are insufficient amps to raise the keel, this makes Brancaster’s drying harbour untennable. At this point I really felt that I wanted to give up, I felt defeated; it seemed that whatever we did, however hard we worked and how many good decisions we made the next setback was just round the corner. The crew however seemed undaunted so again Belinda effectively took charge and we set to it again.

After 14 hours sailing, and in the growing darkness we need another new plan. Sailing on into the SW corner of the wash is not realistic, it is too far and we have no nav lights. Sailing into Wells in the dark with no engine woukd be reckless so we settle on anchoring in Holkham Bay, which we passed an hour and a half ago! With the wind having veered to NE as promised we now have a beat back to Holkham Bay where we anchor at 2240.

A hasty crew meeting is convened and our options are mulled over. It is four days until a NW wind is forecast that will allow us to sail all the way up the river to Fosdyke. We could sail to Wells fairway and get towed into Wells, there we could wait, recharge and restock; then get towed out again. This is quite an attractive option. The second is to sail up into the corner of The Wash where we should get some shelter while we await a tow the six or seven miles up the Welland to Fosdyke. This is less appealing but would get us in sooner, and our resilience, while holding up admirably is waning.

Before we set off tomorrow I am going to check, there must be a bloody vicar or a banana somewhere on this boat; or did we set off in a Friday?

Would the engine have made a significant difference today; absolutely. We would have motored with the autohelm through the light winds at Mundsley and at Blakeney allowing us to arrive rested and on time. The keel would have lifted and we would have been tucked up in bed, refreshed and relaxed by now. I suspect though that we would also have motored past Cromer and missed out on the greatest tack in the history of sailing!

Day 4. Holkham to Freiston

After another luxury lie in I pop my head out of the hatch at 0730 to see fog! Seriously if I can find that vicar or banana they are going over the side.

Off by 0800 fetching along the coast towards the Bays channel off Hunstanton we are passed by Richard and Rosie aboard Tonic, headed for Wells. Out of respect for our electrical situation they send a cheery text rather than use the current hungry VHF. The fog soon clears and the rain eases.

To get into the corner of the Wash where it meets the Welland we have to beat into the wind against a foul tide yet again. There are no dramas but again it blows hard and we are fighting for every mile under double reefed main and handkerchief sizes genoa.

Progress is slow for a start with the five miles to the Roaring Mid light buoy taking three hours. After that we struggle a little as we tack towards the start of the Freeman channel, the westbound tack is more favourable but progress is blocked by the Long Sand, southbound we are pushed too far east, but before long we are able to ease sheets and reach across to our planned anchorage in Clay Hole, off Freiston Shore.

On the opposite side of the channel to us is the odd site of the Boston cockle fleet all aground on the sandbank, awaiting the tide to take them and their already loaded catch back up the river Witham to Boston.

Tucked up as we are in the corner of the wash we have a relatively calm and restful night. Confirmation comes that the yard will be able to tow us in tomorrow which is reassuring.

Day 5. Freiston Shore to Fosdyke.

Tuesday dawned bright and breezy and we had a pleasant enough morning preparing for our tow. It is roughly six miles from our anchorage to the boat yard and we are interested to see what boat arrives, and what it will be like being towed.

By mid morning we get a message and 20 minutes later Moonshine appears to our rescue. If ever you needed a tow, Moonshine looks like the boat to do it; purposeful and powerful. My only concern, having read about these things is that they will try to tow us too fast and pull our cleats out of the deck.

Skillfully handled (by Richard I believe) Moonshine is soon alongside at a safe distance in the swell. Greg appears and throws over the line which I attach to the port side bow cleat and Moonshine takes the strain while I retrieve the anchor. I add one of our lines over the top of the towline and lead it back to a cockpit winch where I winch it up tight. This will prevent the tow line tripping off our cleat in the swell and transfer some if the towing force away from our vulnerable cleat.

Any fears that we had about being towed were soon dispelled, this is the right boat with a skilled and considerate crew. Regular thumbs up signals and smiles from Greg reassure us that all is well.

Belinda helms most of the way and I assume control (accountability) as we approach the pontoon. Such is our confidence in Moonshine’s crew that there is little anxiety as we approach the yard. With the speed of the tow eased I am able to easily edge Flamingo over to the pontoon where Belinda passes the bow line ashore before smartly releasing the towline, and it’s done! We have sailed in excess of two hundred miles over five days and four nights and we are shattered beyond all imagining. There are tears of relief as we offer heartfelt thanks to Greg and Richard and it is clear that as sailors they understand.

It is not 1969, and we haven’t just circumnavigated the globe single handed, it’s not 1970 and we haven’t just nursed a broken spaceship back from the moon, we haven’t even completed the citcumnavigation of Britain that we had planned. For us though, and our little boat it has been a monumental challenge, we have stuck together, made good decisions and succeeded.

So does Flamingo need an engine? Yes! No one part of this trip has been horrific but the relentless battlIn fact browsing through my photos I notice that one boat appears over and over again. It was moored next to us for many days, it is a pretty boat and the light on it was amazing. But maybe somebody was sending me a message, maybe we need a motor-sailer!

As a final note. Flamingo was lifted out the following day and the keel was found to be jammed, so no amount of battery charge would have made any difference. The keel was freed with a stout kick from Greg and she was lowered onto her trolly. As the tractor began to move her to her winter quarters it broke down, so we left her, stranded, about 40 metres from home!

One of the joys of our trips has been listening to some of the excellent podcast series that are now so easily available. One of our favourites last year was the BBC World Service’s series 13 Minutes to the moon, detailing the Apollo moon landings. It is still available and comes highly recommended by the crew of Flamingo.

Imagine our delight then to find that this year there is a second series detailing the trials and tribulations of the troubled Apollo 13 mission. I’m sure that you are familiar with the story but to recap, following a catastrophic mechanical failure they find themselves adrift days away from home and safety. Unsure of it’s status they are unable to use their main engine and are constantly plagued by alarms and failures of their systems. Imagine that!

As we ended the Bank Holiday with a top grade Pad Thai in the cabin we started to outline how we thought we would be able to get Flamingo back to Brancaster, and then directly to Fosdyke for a lift out. A stop at Lowestoft we agreed was out of the question as we are not sure of the engine’s status and a failure there would be very dangerous. We outlined three plans involving completing the trip in one, two or three legs with nights anchored off  the beach during the worst of the foul tides.

So after being further inspired by Episode 6 of 13 Minutes to the moon we dived into our berths and slept the sleep of the righteous until at 0200; gas alarm! For the third consecutive night. This is disturbing in many ways.

Without going into too much detail there is no smell (so not butane) the alarm is quickly cleared by opening the overhead hatch so the offending gas is lighter than air so is most likely hydrogen from the batteries, but how?

Having ventilated the boat and checking that both alarms have reset to zero we retire to fitful sleep, both of us considering what the problem could be.

Tuesday dawned bright, sunny, warm and calm! We grabbed the calendar quickly and yes, it is still summer 2020! So with a perfect lunchtime tide we rowed up to the hard at Pin Mill past a row of little east coast barges.

We discovered a lovely new walk along the river bank to the Royal Harwich Yacht Club. From there it heads inland past the lovely looking Wolverston School (no more public school beating I promise) and back through some proper wild flower meadows.

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Arriving back at the Butt and Oyster reveals yet another tide height calculation failure. Clearly we are going to find a way to fill an hour and a half before we can retrieve the dinghy.

A brief note here, I have been accused of adopting heirs and graces by referring to the tender as the Avon. So from now on it will be referred to as the tender; it was made by Avon though!

After a couple of ciders and a full price lunch Belinda rowed us back to the boat. I’ve tried to explain repeatedly that there is no need to tack into the wind while rowing the tender but to no avail. Leave it!

Our walk has been fruitful and plans have been put in place to attempt to resolve the gas alarm issue. The most likely situation seems to be that one of the house batteries has failed and at night, when the solar charger shuts down the good battery is charging the bad battery, causing it to gas.

The first part if our theory proved to be correct, one of the batteries has failed and has been bypassed, so fingers crossed for an alarm free night.

Regards getting the engineless Flamingo home we plan to stay here until we have a suitable weather window, and we will then sail her home in one, two or three hops.

We awake on Wednesday after a night’s undisturbed sleep, it looks like we may have solved the gas problem; fingers crossed. We also speak to French Marine Motors at Levington who are able to fit us a new engine at what seems to be a very reasonable price. The bad news is that it will be the first week in October at the earliest.

So I have a chat with Greg at Fosdyke to check that we can get the boat up to the yard and he confirms that it will be fine, he will have the launch ready should the engine fail as we approach. He also seems to think that they can do rather better than the price that I have already got for the engine.

Tonight we eat our sweet chilli garlic stir fry to the sound of rain pattering on the coach-roof, listening, as I write, to Kraftwerk on the radio. Tomorrow we will sit out a windy day here and if the weather holds we will depart at 0600 on Friday for a two day, one stop trip to Brancaster, overnighting at Winteringham.

A combination of weather and circumstance have led us to a situation where we both agree that we would like to do a little more actual sailing. Even better, sailing in the absence of gales, fog or electrical storms. It seems that our wishes may just come true, certainly regarding the quantity, if not quality of the sailing.

Having been woken early by the insistent tapping of the mooring buoy at Felixtowe Ferry we rise and have a smart breakfast while we ready the ship for the sail back to Pin Mill.

On a lovely warm sunny morning we set out sailing into a F3 headwind which is being ably assisted by a foul running tide. The sailing however is lovely, Flamingo is at her best sailing close hauled and feels as though she is loving it. We have decided to sail the whole trip if possible, partly because we want to enjoy an extended sail with no deadlines and partly due to some concerns over the engine’s possible longevity.

Flamingo’s single cylinder diesel engine has always threatened to do something dreadful, while continually plugging on regardless, almost to the point of being contrary. It is reluctant to start, but has always started; once running it bumps, bangs and leaps about in the engine bay while it settles, yet once running is as smooth as you could hope and it always goes on running, 30hrs continuous back from Holland being it’s best effort.

Now however the reluctant diesel is showing symptoms that suggest that all is not as it should be. At higher revs she is beginning to produce characteristic blue smoke as if she is burning engine oil, checking the district confirms that for the first time she is indeed burning oil. So we have decided to ration the use of the engine, Flamingo is after all a sailing boat with auxiliary engine. I have also accepted some teaching work over the winter to finance what looks inevitably like an engine replacement during the closed season.

Anecdotally we appear to be making limited progress as we enjoy beating down the coast but we are sailing and the sun is shining. A bit of careful plotting however reveals that a one hour tack has gained us 0.2NM towards the turning point at the mouth of the Orwell, so we treat ourselves to 50 minutes of motoring. Soon we are able bear away, silence the engine and reach up through the container terminal and into the river, finally sailing onto our preferred buoy in time to prepare an evening meal as the wind again dies to nothing.

We were not to get away lightly again because just as we were planning to retire to bed the wind whistled up to an unforecast F7, straight up the river and against the ebbing tide. This raised a horrible and remarkably large chop which has us bucking around on our mooring in the now pouring rain. We spent an anxious 45 minutes watching the boat anchored immediately to windward of us but to their credit their anchor held. Almost as quickly as it started the wind dropped back to nothing, the rain ceased and we were able to retire, sleep soundly and wake to a lovely calm and sunny Friday; the start of the bank holiday with it’s attendant gale forecast.

So off we motored in the flat calm trailing our own little hydrocarbon mist up through the lock to the protected sanctuary of Ipswich Haven marina. A hearty thanks goes out to the crew of the enormous motorised tupperware tub who beckoned us to raft alongside them in the absence of a safe space for us. To the crew of the 55ft wooden ketch who stuck their hands in their pockets and whistled while staring at something important on the lock side, shame.

Ipswich Haven marina has a lot to recommend it, easy access to good shops for provisioning, nice bars and restaurants and it is very picuresque. Three streets back from the waterfront, as in many ports it is less salubrious. It has to be said that the friendly and helpful staff are a little disorganised. It took them two hours to find us a space as they were ‘very busy, it’s the Bank Holiday’, and the space that we were allocated was only suitable for a ‘slim yacht’. Why we couldn’t have used one of the eight adjacent berths which remaimed empty all weekend is a mystery. I suspect that having paid for two nights we could have remained until the end of the season unnoticed.

Ipswich is great, along the waterfront it has pretensions of being San Tropez, which it isn’t. Over the weekend we saw a lot of white trousers that probably fitted when bought, and a lot of those white jackets with sail numbers stitched to them. We finally got to eat in Isaaks on the quay, which is legendary with local sailors. They coped well with the current predicament creating a friendly atmosphere, as did The Nelson, and The Steamboat.

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Spirit Yachts did not disappoint with three of their incredible boats being afloat and in the final stages of production. Commendably they were tied up to the public pontoons and unattended. I can confirm that the heads on the larger of the three is beautifully fitted out and functions perfectly. A little research revealed that the Spirit Yacht used in Casino Royale with Daniel Craig had it’s mast craned out at each of the ten bridges in Venice to give the appearance of her sailing up the Grand Canal!

Tucked up amongst the high rise buildings we hardly noticed the gale but the messages from friends suggested that it was bad elsewhere. Bank Holiday Monday dawned sunny and warm with a light northerly breeze so we headed back into the river. Having monitored the lock on the VHF it was becoming clear that the tide was only just going to be high enough to allow free-flow, and if it did it wouldn’t be for long. Fearing a scramble we motored round ten minutes early to be third in what was becoming a very big queue; all administered with humour and an air of drama by the lock keeper.

Once out in the river the engine began to give real concern, a local forecast of visibility poor was issues for areas immediately astern of Flamingo. We shut down the engine and had a delightful sail once again to Pin Mill to assess the state of play.

The engine still starts and runs, but for how long? A chat with Dan, who knows about these things suggests a hole in the cylinder head! So we now have to consider the engine as being utterly unreliable, we also feel that whatever hours (or minutes) it has remaining need to be saved for essential docking. We also have to ensure that we don’t get into a situation that we can’t manage under sail alone.

So with the sky and the Bank Holiday boats clearing we will sit tonight to plot out what the remainder of the trip will look like. Marooned at Pin Mill in the sunshine, what an earth will we do?