Wherever you go around our coast you will find traditional local vessels, designed to give them the best chance of success in the conditions that prevail locally, and to be manufactured using the available materials and skills. The Norfolk Crab Boats and the Cobbles found on the Yorkshire coast are a case in point. Both strongly built to take the pounding experienced when beaching on these mainly harbour free coasts, and each double ended to part the breakers that inevierably follow them up the beach. We witnessed a 21st Century version of this at our next brief stop, Felixstowe Ferry.

Wishing to get away early the following day we dropped down to Felixstowe Ferry to pick up a buoy that we had arranged to use with the ever helpful Harbour Master. Felixstowe Ferry is an interesting spot situated at the mouth of the River Deben. On the north bank is the beautiful old country manor house at Bawdsey; during WWII it played a pivotal role in the development of radar. It is now a public school where a chap can get himself a first class education, assuming that his parents can afford the fees. If not, it is possible to sit on the very picturesque shingle beach and dream of what might have been.

On the south bank is the rather more ramshackle collection of stilted wooden huts, Martello towers and occasional masonry built structures that make up Felixstowe Ferry itself. Between the two, constrained by it’s banks is the River Deben with it’s deadly shingle banks and fierce tidal flows.

Arriving shortly before sunset and about 20 minutes into the ebbing tide we were looking for a ‘sky blue buoy, just off the jetty’ as described by the Harbour Master. As we passed through the hundreds of moorings we began to wonder if somebody else had picked it up, there were lots of boats on sky blue buoys. At the last minute we spotted it, the very last buoy in the mouth of the river; above us river, behind us the sea. By this time the ebbing tide was running past us at about 4kts, within minutes it must have been 6kts, it is doubtful that our ageing engine would have stemmed a 6kt tide (more on the engine later).

As we secured to the buoy there was the sound of a hooter signifying the start of the Laser class racing from FFSC, and we were moored (on the HM’s instructions) about 10 metres up from the start. Within minutes the second and final fleet started, catamarans. Boats beat up either side of us against the now raging tide.

It struck me as odd that the fleet consisted of only two types of boats, Lasers (fast) and catamarans (very fast), but it was obvious, to race here you needed to be able to stem the extreme tides. Local boats for local conditions.

Our main reason for picking up a bouy right down here was to have a look first hand at the sea state that was still being described as moderate to rough in the inshore waters forecast. Fortunately this close to the coast it was quite benign.

As the sun set we settled to our evening meal of shell on prawns, there was a palpable feeling that we were right in the mouth of the river and at the heart of the action, with just the violently flooding tide keeping the ocean and it’s swells at bay.

As we ate, the last of the winds associated with the overnight storm blew themselves out and the FFSC fleet, deprived of their driving force began to be swept out to sea, and the destructive shingle banks. As the first catamaran was swept past us, it’s skipper clearly in an agitated state, it became clear that a rescue was now essential and we were right in the middle of it!

What a dilemma, shell on prawns are a special treat and chilled Aspall cyder needs to be respected. But equally every seafarer knows that a mariner in distress must receive assistance. Fortunately I managed to reach the VHF handset without spilling a drop and was able to inform FFSC’s safety boats that their fleet was heading out to sea backwards. Their response was swift, professional and efficient, they even motored over to thank us for our ‘help’. Duty bound.

After an exciting and fun evening we turned in ready for an early start. Sadly, with the ebb tide no longer keeping the sea swells at bay we were woken indecently early by the bouy tap, tap, tapping on the stbd bow, right next to my ear!

We were however treated to the sun rising over Bawdsey, the best of the trip so far. I bet it looked great from the dorms!

A working understanding of the Met Office’s surface pressure chart is all that is required to understand why this weather is happening. What is harder to understand is why it’s happening to me!

After two nights and three days in the Marina at Levington our return to the river was most welcome. The forecast however was already warning of the next low pressure arriving. With fresh provisions running low we really wanted to get into the Deben and up to Tide Mill marina to do some shopping. Careful study of the various weather forecasts suggested that there was a possibility of getting out of the Orwell and into the Deben on Monday. It would then require an early start on Tuesday to get into Tide Mill before the coming storm.

Having just come through one gale we suspected that the sea state could be interesting on the short trip up the coast and especially in the notorious Deben entrance. So with F5 still in the forecast Belinda made the boat ready for a rough passage. Meanwhile while I prepared a conservative passage plan which would allow us options to sail slowly, with a small sail-plan.

We slipped our mooring at 1215 and under double reefed main had a lovely broad reach down river against the newly flooding tide. We seemed to be the slowest boat on the river as again and again we were overtaken by boats sporting full sail. The crew were delighted that I was prepared to allow this and not pile on sail, but of course I knew what to expect once we were out past the container port.

Once out past the container port we discovered that the light and variable winds forecast for later had arrived sooner than expected, and that we needed rather more sail.

An inbound container ship blocking our path gave us opportunity to shake out our reefs and unroll the mighty wind catching genoa. Immediately that the container ship passed us a second headed out of the port, closely followed by a dredger, this put us slightly behind schedule but not enough to be a problem. It was during these manoevres that I looked up to check the sail trim for my trusty Raybans to slip off my hat and plunge to the murky depths.

With the wind settled around F3 from the west we had a lovely beam reach up the coast and even managed the Deben entrance without having to use the engine.

Being back in the lovely Deben is always a treat and with time to spare we beat our way up to Ramsholt where we picked up a buoy. While we drank a well earned cup of tea Belinda phoned Tide Mill to arrange a berth for the morning as we would be arriving well before the office opened. A quick check however revealed that to be sure of getting into Tide Mill, two hours up the river, we would need to be there by 0630!

So having just got settled we set off again with a view to getting much closer to Woodbridge before we turned in, this would allow us a much more civilised start time in the morning, and less time motoring in the forecast heavy rain.

We have never anchored or picked up a bouy really close to Woodbridge but decided that we would give it a try, and finally settled on a vacant buoy just north of Methersgate Quay. Tide calculations showed that even this high up the river we should still float at LW, so we didn’t even need to lift the keel. The skipper/chef managed a passable Thai curry from half a sweet potato and a found onion. Suffolk skies didn’t let us down again and we spent a lovely evening watching the sunset (and the lady swimmer who stripped on the quay oblivious of our presence) and speculating on what the scene would look like in the morning.

Even before we rose at 0545 it was clear that it was indeed raining, but mercifully not the forecast downpour. Even more helpful was the fact that although the wind had risen it was still only F4; mooring in the sheltered marina shouldn’t present too many problems. When Belinda booked the berth on the phone the Harbour Master had hinted that he had allocated us a spot that would keep us sheltered from the approaching severe gale. Berth 149 was perfect, tucked in the corner formed by the big boat repair shed, and the railway trackside trees we were as well protected as we could have hoped for.

Having evicted one tender from our berth, and squidged another into the corner we rigged normal lines and fenders and retreated to the cabin for breakfast. A breezy and damp shopping expedition began to replenish our food stocks. Miraculously by the afternoon despite the wind the sun emerged and we took our favourite walk up to Meltham Bridge.

We were pleased to be able to ‘help out by eating out’ at the Kings Head as the wind was now becoming fierce. Before we set off I doubled all of the lines, then rigged two extra lines to take the strain caused as the wind now attempted to rip Flamingo from her berth.

After a blustery but dry walk up to the pub the wind in the Kings Head was F0, and we had a lovely calm meal watching the torrential rain being blasted around the market square. Miraculously the rain stopped in time for the to walk back to the boat but by this time the wind was so strong along the quay that we were literally picked up and had to run with the wind to stay on our feet.

Although the boat couldn’t have been more secure we endured a bumpy and noisy night getting some sleep which we compensated by having a two cup of tea lie-in. Unbelievably it looks like we may be able to get back into the Orwell to meet friends before Friday’s forecast gale arrives!

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Following a breakfast that was prepared to Lloyd’s 100A1 standard the remainder of Wednesday was spent further topping up the supplies and wandering around Woodbridge. It is rumoured that the crew went Christmas shopping! Although I wasn’t allowed to inspect the haul so maybe its all for me.

We were touched to receive messages from friends and family checking that we were OK. Now to plan our trip back to the Orwell.

Finally an end to the NE winds, fog and thunderstorms. A mysterious orange disk has appeared in the sky and the wind arrives, pre-warmed, over the top of the trees on the cliff at Pin Mill.

We are now fully occupied in holiday mode. Regular swims with our gelatinous friends in the river, the Compass jellyfish that we swam with in Blakeney have been replaced by Moon jellyfish that we are more familiar with. Both are harmless but it requires some resolution to put this aside and rely on breastroke arm movements to brush them out of the way. The crew has taken to swimming in gloves right behind me (it’s like the kraken breathing in your ear) so that I displace most of them. This must appear amusing to anyone watching but not as funny as when I get my 112ft Herschoff schooner with 15 strong crew in matching navy shorts and cream polo tops. Swimming conga?

Afternoons often involve rowing the dinghy up to Pin Mill for a walk in the woods or along the shore followed by a pint or a bit of lunch at the ubiquitous Butt & Oyster. Pin Mill is so picturesque, there is always something to see and it seems to be one of those places where the light is special. Where else can you see Thames barges and a chap launching a little clinker dinghy off the back of a Citroen 2CV?

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We have also discovered that from Monday to Wednesday, try as you might it is near impossible to spend money on food from the pub. Lockdown dividend?

Many a happy hour can be spent boat spotting on the Orwell. Not the horrible wandering around brokers or marinas dreaming about that next ‘bigger boat’ which inevitably would be more complex and costly; and probably no more fun than your existing boat. The Orwell is packed with interesting, quirky and plain beautiful boats of all sizes and ages. There is also a very picturesque but rather sad portion of the river bank where a collection of once proud craft have been discarded by their owners to be reclaimed and recycled by nature.

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As the week progressed the wind began to increase with F6, F7 and finally F8 appearing in the inshore waters forecast. One of the joys of the Orwell is its sheltered inland position which often allows sailing in the river when a trip out to sea would be reckless. We had one lovely day sail up under the Orwell Bridge all the way to Ipswich and then down to the container port at Felixsowe. Mind you by the time we were approaching Harwich it really was blowing.

However as the week progressed the forecast worsened; and with water and fresh food supplies diminishing we headed into the ever helpful Suffolk Yacht Harbour. As this coincided with the skippers 34th birthday we booked for a meal at the newly refurbished (following a fire) Ship Inn at Levington. We were treated to more lovely Suffolk skies as we walked along Levington creek up to the pub. The service was excellent, atmosphere as good as can be hoped for and the food satisfactory. The crew barred me from offering to return the following day to show the chef how to make a proper scotch egg!

While we had easy access ashore we took the bikes and rode over the heath to watch the boats going up into the Deben at Felixtowe Ferry. With it’s fierce tidal flows and shingle banks this always makes for a picturesque and entertaining hour. The following day we took a longer walk up river through the woods on the north bank; some shelter from the still howling wind was most welcome. After a long walk, made longer by forgetting the O.S. map, we decided to give The Ship Inn a second chance and dipped in for a pint of Adnam’s and a pint of prawns.

Marina life, with its hot showers, chandlers, walk ashore facilities and shelter soon loose their appeal. Force seven winds shrieking through hundreds of sets of rigging become wearing and by Sunday we had had enough. Despite a complex exit from our pontoon berth in still strong winds we completed a manoeuvre that we were rather proud of and headed back up to Pin Mill and into our preferred environment.

Where next? Hopefully the Deben.

This passage quickly became a delivery trip, with too little wind to enable us to sail at anything like a speed that would enable us to complete the arrive at a sensible time.

So with the Autohelm and the diesel engine on Flamingo steered us the 46NM to Pin Mill with occasional inputs from the crew. We dodged the foul tide early in the passage by following the 5m contour to Southwold then headed offshore as the tide became more favourable.

As seems to be normal in 2020 the visibility was poor with us reduced to electronic scans with the AIS and radar every ten minutes at one point. The obligatory thunder storm threatened off the Deben but came to nothing but heavy rain.

And so at 2010hrs we picked up our favourite visitors mooring at Pin Mill and hunkered down to a late meal and attempts to dry our once again dripping oilies.

The forecast for the following morning was for light winds and sunshine but it was no surprise when I popped my head out of the hatch to see more fog.

I rarely remember my dreams but as I woke from my fitful sleep the night before our first big passage of the year the outline of my dream was still vaguely with me. We were on a trip (a passage?) with my good friend Martin, trips with Martin rarely end well. For some reason we were in Talin, Armenia and everything was going wrong. Any sailor who tells you that they don’t worry about a big passage is dillusional at best.

Lying in my berth listening to what sounded like a solid F5 howling through the rigging I popped my head out of the hatch to see fog, well if not fog then certainly a stiff sea fret caused by the continuing easterly winds.

Parts of our passage plan were making me uneasy; the continuing north easterly winds; poor visibility and anchoring on what would effecttively be a lee shore being chief amongst them. Against this the wind was not forecast above F5 and was more likely to be  F2-4; visibility was likely to be limited, not poor and we did have the option to not anchor and press on direct to Lowestoft, or even Harwich if Lowestoft entrance was untenable.

Following a full crew meeting we made the decision to ‘poke our nose out ‘ and have a look, with the option of returning if we didn’t like the sea state or visibility. Although limited the visibility didn’t stop us seeing probably the biggest swell that we had ever seen coming out of Brancaster, still it was no worse than Ijmuiden last year so we pressed on with the promise or decreasing winds as the day progressed. Yet again there are no photos of the worst conditions as we always seem to be too busy to take any.

To keep herself steady the crew gripped my arm for the first hour in a way that reminded me of when the children were being born, but soon the wind and sea state moderated and the circulation returned. Before long we were able to make cracking progress on a beam reach, gradually shaking out mainsail reefs (folds in the sail to reduce it’s size, tied in with ……….. a reef knot) and unrolling more and more genoa.

The Norfolk coast sped by hidden in the sea fret, although we finally closed to within view of the coast at Walcott to sail along the 5m contour to avoid the now foul tide.

Once past the artificial reefs (piles of huge boulders designed to protect the beach) at Sea Palling we began to look around for a safe anchorage, gaining some protection from the most southerly of the nine stone structures. Sadly this last reef has subsided significantly and offered little protection. This combined with poor visibility, growing darkness and a rising NE wind made for a miserable and stressful anchoring process.

Anchored in 2.5m of water, on solid sand and with 25m of chain out we were in no danger but it was a fretful night. As the wind gusted the boat pitched, as the wind subsided she turned and began to roll wildly. We got some sleep but were up before the 0330 alarm ready to catch the next fair tide down to Lowestoft.

Getting 25m of chain and it’s attached anchor aboard in a swell and in the dark takes some planning and extreme care in the execution. Life jacketed (as always) and clipped on I head forward and get organised. Belinda then motors slowly ahead as I retrieve the chain by hand when it is willing, allowing it out again when it rebels, much like playing a big fish. Once the anchor is back aboard Belinda immediately steers the boat onto a safe course which has been pre-programmed to display on the cockpit GPS, it is very easy to pile up on the beach or worse in the self congratulatory euphoria of having ‘recovered the hook’.

Having tidied the foredeck I return to the cockpit and we roll out enough genoa to keep us moving at a respectable speed, there is no need for heroics on deck getting the mains’l up while it is still dark. We can already see the lights of three ships that will need to be dealt with.

The first of these appears to be a fishing vessel, although he does not show on our AIS screen and his deck lights are so bright that there is no possibility of discerning his status or even direction. There is a complex relationship between our two vessels, I am sailing, he is overtaking, he may be fishing; all of these factors will determine who is ‘stand on’ vessel and who is ‘give way vessel’. The situation is simply resolved by him appointing himself ‘stand on vessel’ probably on the grounds that he hasn’t even seen us.

To add to the fun the sky to the east and west begin to fizz and boom with lightening and thunder which becomes persistent with the gaps between the flash and the bang becoming ever shorter.

Our next challenge is to avoid an unscheduled rendezvous with a 364ft long floating crane called Goliath who is carrying half an oil rig. Goliath has been thoughtfully named. Initially this meeting looks like it will be easily dealt with as Goliath appears to be anchored and about a mile off our intended path. The AIS helpfully reveals that he is moving at 3.5kts and headed for Great Yarmouth, this will involve him turning and crossing our path. Once established on his new course the AIS informs us that our closest point of approach will be 0.0NM and will occur in 8 minutes. It also informs us that he is restricted in ability to manoeuvre which makes him very much stand on vessel. Two quick gybes and we pass safely astern of him.

Looking at the photo you will clearly see the vertically array of red-white-red lights indicating that he is restricted ability to manoeuvre.

With that hurdle cleared we were now on the last lap before we arrived at the notorious Lowestoft harbour entrance. Creeping up behind us was a thunder storm with a curtain of rain turning the surface of the water white. This is a potentially very dangerous situation; a lightening strike nearby can disable all of our electronics; the arrival of the storm can bring violent and unpredictable winds and heavy rain leaves decks and pontoons slippery and can distract the crew from already hazardous manoeuvres.

So with half a mile to run Belinda spoke to Lowestoft Port Control who gave us permission to enter. Lines and fenders were rigged and we hunkered down, prepared for the coming storm. As we approached the entrance we had a final check astern; nothing, the storm had evaporated. So it was that we motored into the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club wearing full oilies and sea boots as the sun came out. No doubt the holiday-makers on the harbour wall commented on the fact that we must have had a lovely sail!

So 85 days after the planned start date it looks like our 2020 cruise will start tomorrow. It won’t be the five month circumnavigation of Britain that we had planned but it is not many weeks ago that we thought that it would be impossible to launch the boat at all this year. We need to be grateful for small mercies, I bet there are people out there who don’t even have a boat at all. Mind you looking at the crowds here there can’t be many.

At the moment we are holed up in Brancaster Staithe, penned in by easterly and north easterly winds that are forecast to be too strong for an East Coast passage. While the weather has been hot enough for daily swims and some tide sails the easterly winds keep it feeling constantly damp.

Like most people I think that we are desperate to just get away and visit some of our favourite old haunts. The idea that next week we might be sat outside the Butt & Oyster with a pint of Adnams seems almost too good to be true.

The passage plan for tomorrow is a little left field. Starting at midday we will take the tide down to Sea Palling where we will anchor and have a sleep through most of the foul tide, then off on the next fair tide arriving in Lowestoft in time for breakfast. For those who are familiar with Sea Palling we are planning to anchor to the south of the false reefs, not between them. The NE wind is forecast to finally back a little to NNW and the F6 has disappeared from the forecast.

Anyway, right now we are very excited about going to Lowestoft! What could go wrong? Lots, update soon……

In our berth at Fosdyke the following morning with a cup of tea at 0845 hrs there was a tap on the hull, did we want to be lifted out now or tomorrow? After a quick crew meeting we agreed that tomorrow would be good; yard manager Greg’s eyebrows clearly indicated that this was the wrong answer. So using our well rehearsed plan we were up, dressed and motoring round to the lift out dock in minutes.

Less that ninety minutes after that initial tap on the hull Flamingo was ready to hibernate having been lifted out, pressure washed and very precisely placed on her trolley.

Our first look at her undersides since April revealed that she has fared rather well. The selection of Antifouling paint to deter marine growth is always a difficult decision, what works in one area of the country will be almost totally ineffective in another.

The problem is clearly very bad in the Netherlands as we had seen many boats with great forests of weed growing from their hulls. Apart from possibly 50 barnacles around the skeg Flamingo’s hull was completely free of any fouling, this is quite miraculous and very encouraging.

Marine fouling slows the boat and increases fuel consumption but our choice of antifouling, paint and the constant change from salt to brackish and then to fresh water has kept the hull completely clear. The meadow on the (antifoul-free) rudder demonstrates what would have happened without protection on the hull.

Sailors note, for one year we used Cruiser Uno which seemed to attract barnacles, at the end of that season I scraped off the barnacles and took them away in buckets. Following a recommendation we the moved to Shogun which is slightly cheaper and works brilliantly, even using one coat per year. Financial constraints have compelled us to move over to Jotun over the last two seasons. This has clearly worked extremely well, it is however evil stuff to apply, it even dissolves your rollers.

So our season is complete we have had an amazing adventure but more than that we have proved that we can live aboard for almost indefinite periods during reasonable weather. Now we need to start planning next year’s adventure, the plan is slowly forming but there are many things to consider.

Overall we travelled 1096NM during the season with just over 800NM being our Brancaster to Brancaster cruise. Almost half of that mileage was under motor, a figure that under most circumstances would be considered excessive,but on the Dutch inland waterways this is inevitable. We have also undertaken some ambitious passages in narrow weather windows, this has compelled us to motor to meet tide gates, or dodge approaching strong winds.

The blog will now go quiet over the winter with just occasional posts on the necessary re-fit and updates on how next year’s plan is developing.

Flamingo over winters, along with several other Brancaster boats at Fosdyke Yacht Haven, situated where the River Welland Meets the A17 in Lincolnshire. It is a fantastic workmanlike yard that is superbly equipped and is blessed with knowledgeable, skilled and careful staff.

To get there from Brancaster it is necessary to sail west along the North Norfolk Coast, past Hunstanton and then across the notorious Wash into its western corner to where it meets the River Welland. There are a number of options for routing and management of tides which make this a fascinating sail to plan and execute. The direct route is to pass close in to the coast, through ‘the bays’ (a passage through the many sandbanks off Hunstanton),up the main Wash shipping channel and then into the Freeman Channel which is buoyed to take commercial shipping into Boston. More interesting is to travel northwest from Brancaster via the Woolpack buoy and into the old Boston Deep channel at Gibraltar Point. This channel is no longer maintained or buoyed but with careful navigation makes an interesting challenge. In strong winds however the Woolpack area can become very choppy as the depth changes from less than 3m to over 15m in less than a quarter of a mile.

The passage is tide dependent at both ends, so leaving Brancaster at high water and arriving at Fosdyke on the next high water leaves you with twelve hours to complete a six hour passage; this can be mitigated slightly by leaving Brancaster 90 minutes after HW, but arriving early at Fosdyke is not recommended. Somewhere along the way you are going to have to kill some time by anchoring; unless it is a lovely day (in April or October?) in which case there is some cracking sailing to be had. Strategy number one is to set off at HW Brancaster, giving you a mix of fair and foul tides, you will then be able to anchor in the lee of a sand bank in the Wash while you wait for the flood tide ready to take you up the Welland to Fosdyke. Strategy number two is to depart at HW, anchor off Brancaster and then take a fair tide all the way to Fosdyke, arriving at high water. By factoring in the weather and the available light it is usually clear which option is preferable.

We, Flamingo and Tonic who will be sailing with us opt for the early start and the direct route. Once we have cleared the Freeman Channel we will tuck into the hopefully flat water behind the Roger Sand to await the last of the flood into Fosdyke. We will then re-anchor in the Welland to await HW at Fosdyke. The main downside to this plan is that we will arrive in the dark but at this time of year this is the best that we can do.

The sail to Hunstanton is conducted in light ESE winds with Flamingo opting for The Bays and Tonic going north to Woolpack, very pleasant if slightly slow autumnal sailing. Once into the deep water the wind strengthens and we head west where our courses meet at the Roaring Mid light ship (it’s a very small light ship, more of a light canoe). As we sail together through the Freeman Channel the wind is strengthening further but once anchored under the lee of Roger Sand we have a snug berth where we rest and have lunch.

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By 1700 hrs the rising tide has covered Roger Sand and our berth is less comfortable, it is also raining heavily and the wind really is blowing. Tonic uses her electric windlass to recover her anchor and is soon underway, Flamingo’s anchor however is significantly more difficult to recover by hand but after a significant struggle I mange it and we too are underway.

In these conditions we have an agreed plan that keeps one crew member fresh and ready for any emergency that might arise, I man the cockpit in the rain, wind and spray, Belinda takes care of the cabin, the heater and tea making (and the small matter or navigating in poor visibility).

Despite trying to keep the speed down we are being carried too fast, relentlessly towards Tabs Head where the channel splits into the Witham to starboard up to Boston and the Welland to port. The plan that we have discussed beforehand with Tonic is to re-anchor part way up the river and wait for the flood tide to slacken, then complete the journey. The reason for our reluctance to arrive at Fosdyke on the flood tide is the proximity of the A17 road bridge to the pontoons, if you get it wrong you will find your boat swept under the bridge and headed towards Surfleet Seas End, now minus your mast which will be attached to the bridge. At this point you will finally get your allotted 15 minutes of fame as a feature on BBC Radio Lincolnshire’s traffic news.

The transition from the open sea of The Wash to the carefully managed raised banks of the Witham and the Welland form a fascinating landscape. There is no clear borderline between sea and land, in the now heavy rain and failing light it is even more difficult to make out where the water becomes viscous enough to be considered mud, or the mud becomes wet enough to be considered water. The only features of note are a semi-submerged training wall (a training wall is a man-made construction that directs the flow of a river through an estuary) and some marker posts to keep you in the channel. The wildlife: seals and waders are all beautifully adapted to this landscape but is is utterly inhospitable to man. There must be places out here where nobody has ever set foot.

As we pass the agreed anchoring point Tonic call us up on the VHF to say that they are ‘going in’ despite the tide now pushing us at over 3kts towards the bridge. Once secured they will call us up and wait to take our lines to make mooring easier. This wouldn’t be my first choice but in the dark with heavy rain and a blustery wind the lure of having the boat secure and the heater on two hours early is very tempting. We decide to follow, hang back and if Tonic succeeds we will follow.

My favoured technique for mooring on a slight flood tide at Fosdyke has been to motor between the pontoons, towards the bridge, about 100 metres short of the bridge the port side pontoons end so it is possible to shimmy to port then turn hard a starboard completing a 180⁰ turn, from there it is a simple ferry glide into the tide and onto the pontoon. This suits Flamingo as due to the direction of her propeller rotation she prefers a starboard hand turn, she will turn sharply under power. Fail to make the turn sufficiently tightly though and you are in a mess, and the bridge beckons. I’m happy to do this in 1kt of tide, but 3kts is worrying me.

We hang back watching Tonic’s white stern light in the distance which turns to red, she has turned, then green, too far?, red, green, white? Begining to worry we turn and head back down river to think this through. Tonic has a very powerful engine that reacts well to changes in direction (forward to reverse), Flamingo’s engine takes a long time to change direction meaning that she will not deal well with this situation.

Suddenly Tonic are on the radio, they are in and waiting for us, they have clearly managed a very difficult manoeuvre. We can call back and let them know that we are going to try a different approach, I have decided not to approach with the flood tide still making 2.6kts. I opt to try a technique that I have seen fishing boats use but have never attempted myself. We motor at 1.0kt into the tide, away from the bridge, with the tide now making 2.6kts towards the bridge we now proceed backwards up river, pushed by the tide at 1.6kts. We start this manoeuvre well clear of the pontoons so that I can get the hang of travelling backwards but with the helm responding as if we were going forwards. I face forward, down river, Belinda faces up river, indicating direction changes with silent hand signals, it’s working but it feels like reversing with two trailers on a car. We slip between the pontoons and slowly slowly proceed up river until we are alongside our allotted berth, which appears to be too small (but turns out to be a whole eighteen inches longer than Flamingo). Gently I increase power and edge Flamingo across towards her berth with Belinda stubbornly refusing to throw the lines to our beckoning friends, electing to stick to our self imposed rules to not throw lines until it’s all gone wrong. Quietly and without fuss we are roped into our berth, grateful for our friends standing out in the rain to help us on the very slippy pontoons. Within minutes we are secured against the fierce tide and settled with the tide surging past her hull.

The shore power lead is soon connected, the heating goes on and for the last time this year we are snug in the cabin for the last time. And that effectively is the end of our adventure, Flamingo will be lifted out of the water over the next few days ready for winterising and we will return to shore based life. For now though we are too tired for reflection so we sit with one final Glenlivet and the absolute last of the chocolate.

After a couple of days at Brancaster the weather is beginning to get the better of us, it is now mid October and it continues to be cold, windy and at times wet. We are making the best of the weather by fitting in walks on the beach and along the coastal path. Our first day is taken up with a bus trip to Wells to buy food which is now rather more hearty and comforting rather than the delicate salads that we have been used to, we even treat ourselves to gravy. Our retreats to the boat however are being compromised by a lack of charge in the batteries, this is preventing us from running the heating for sufficient time to keep the boat warm and our gear dry (the diesel powered heater contains a powerful electric fan that requires good levels of battery charge to work). After a couple of days I discover the problem, the older of the two solar panels has failed, not only is it not charging the batteries, it has failed in a short circuit state, this is preventing the second panel doing its job too. The faulty panel is easily disconnected but the second one has no chance of recharging the now very depleted batteries on its own, we need to get access to shore power to make life comfortable again.

On Wednesday 9th we decide that we will take the evening tide down to Well-next-the-Sea where we can hook up to mains electricity and get access to heat, outstanding food-shops and pontoons; this will make the marginal conditions more tolerable. The forecast is for strong force 5 to force 7 Westerly winds, this wind represents a challenge for us but we have a few factors in our favour. The wind has been in the SW for some time so the sea state should be benign, also the wind, the tide and Flamingo will all be travelling in the same direction; this should make for safe and fast sailing. Just as we are preparing to drop our mooring Dan and Lindsey motor past en-route to take Lindsey’s boat Amy out of the water. They both take a look at out at our preparations, and then a look around the harbour and then a look at the sky and finally announce ‘ooh, are you going out tonight? it’s windy, lots of white water out there’. Thanks guys! Undeterred we decide that the lure of luxury cannot be ignored; we will poke our nose out of the harbour and if the conditions are safe we will continue down to Wells. On the way out I mention to Belinda that we are now damned, if we go our (unjustified) reputation for being a bit loco will be reinforced, if we stay we are condemned to be cold.

The sea state turns out to be typical wind over tide conditions with small following waves which give a rolly but fast passage. Under full mainsail with the F6 wind dead astern we manage the 7NM from Brancaster fairway to Wells fairway in one hour, remarkable pace, and despite Belinda swinging from the boom for a bit as she handed the mainsail we are safely and snugly moored in Wells by 1800 hrs. A bit of luxury does wonders to restore morale and we have a fine three days in Wells including a walk to Holkham and a cycle ride to Binham Priory. I also manage to snap an shot of an interesting initiative to reduce the noise in Wells harbour.

Our next priority is the Cruiser laying up lunch on Sunday, this is a date that we have not wanted to miss and to some extent the last two weeks of the cruise have been tailored to meeting this deadline. Having nominally organised the meal (Jana actually organises it, Paul and Pedro actually cook it) I feel responsible for the afternoon being a success and this causes me quite considerable anxiety. With this in mind we hop back to Brancaster on Saturday evening. The return trip from Wells requires more care than the outbound passage. It is possible to leave Wells quay about two hours before HW but this inevitably means that the tide will be against you all the way back along the coast. High water at Wells is also 30 to 40 minutes before Brancaster which further squeezes the time-frame. Checking back through my log-books I find that we seem to complete this passage in three minutes either side of three hours almost every time. We pretty much manage this yet again, sailing the first half of the passage to Overy Staithe in a fantastic F4 Southerly, beam reaching as the last of the light fades. As the moon rises the wind dies and we have to motor to our mooring which we pick up in the dark at 2015, three hours and five minutes from departure.

The weather on Sunday morning is wet and windy again but the boat is cosy with the heater now blowing warm dry air into the snug cabin. This would be fine but one of us has to row the tender ashore, leaving the outboard with Flamingo ready for the sail to Fosdyke that we are trying to schedule for Sunday night and into Monday. One member of the crew has very capably, over many years created the illusion of a lack of capability while rowing. Thus despite issuing orders to the contrary (mutiny?) the skipper has to row in the rain and walk back through the water.

We are both extra apprehensive about the launch lunch because for the last three months we have done exactly as we have pleased, without having to take into consideration anybody else’s needs. Now we have to re-enter the real world where there are other people with expectations. Despite our concerns, and a couple of wobbles as people started to arrive the whole afternoon was a huge success. Our cruising friends are amongst the loveliest people you could ever wish to meet, gracious, knowledgeable and thoughtful, everybody seemed happy to have shared in some way in our little trip. The food and setting were perfect as ever and as the evening approached we had to say our farewells and walk back to Flamingo before the tide arrived, ready for the final leg of the trip, back to Fosdyke and seasons end.

Early in the summer we had agreed that if possible we would complete the whole trip together, all the way back to Fosdyke and thence to Lincoln. In some ways this has complicated the planning of the final passage but it feels symbolic for us. Symbolic for me is the fact that Belinda is now firmly embracing the delivery trip up through The Wash. Always conducted early and late in the season it is a trip that she has understandably dodged on occasions in the past; The Wash can be a cold and brutal place in April and October. Her experience of extended and exposed passages has increased so much that what was once unthinkable is now normal so we turn down offers of lifts home and begin the planning for the final leg of our adventure.

Some of the information that I have shared over recent weeks seems to have caused confusion so I thought it only fair to clarify a few matters. I stated that Flamingo was at one point making 6.2kts and implying that she was not capable of making that speed; she is in fact capable of making over 7kts, just not in the conditions that prevailed at that time. Regarding fatigue, we do have an auto-helm that will steer the boat while we rest, it is however hard on the batteries so we tend to use it only when the engine is running. It also makes a noise like a seagull being strangled every time it moves which is irritating. If we had a modern, quieter and more sophisticated auto-helm I feel that we would use it more but they are expensive and good ones are very expensive. An issue that we do need to address though is our passage management, and especially watches. I tend to stay on deck when the sailing is good because I enjoy it, then I have to stay on deck to help when the going gets tough with the result that I don’t get the rest that I need. We are always learning and now know that for next season we need to set up, and adhere to rather stricter watch patterns.

A little note to the sailors. We met a couple in Dordrecht, the guy on the boat worked at the boatyard in Southwold and was very keen to recommend an autopilot that he was using. He told us the story of meeting the American designer and manufacturer of the autopilot and was fulsome in his praise for it; I don’t think he had any axe to grind. It was called a Pelagic if anybody wanted to have a look.

I despise being woken by the alarm, it seems so brutal and starts the day badly. I am delighted then that when I glance at the clock it is 0350 hrs so I jump out of my berth, no clock is going to make me get up early! The system aboard Flamingo for early departures is pretty slick and having been in bed at 0350 we are underway by 0410, a cup of tea, followed by breakfast soon appears through the companionway as we motor down river away from Pin Mill and towards the sea. There is no moon so Belinda has prepared a meticulous pilotage plan for me to follow down the river in case it is too dark to see, it is all too easy to hit a moored boat or run over a mooring in the dark. As it turns out, despite the absence of any natural light the river is brightly lit by the light from Felixsowe container port (five miles away) bouncing off the clouds.

We emerge from the harbour in the dark, and much like we did at Ijmuiden are ready to check the sea state as it will still be raised from the last few days strong winds. The motion of the boats gives away the fact that there is indeed quite a big swell with a nice North Sea chop laid over the top of it. Three factors influence our decision to continue; one, it is so dark that we can’t see the waves; two, after three months of sailing we both feel braver and three, we really want to get going homeward.

As expected the first leg to Orford Ness is directly into the F4 NNE wind so we are obliged to motor, I have planned the start of the passage to coincide with the North going tide so we absolutely must make progress throughout this period.

As we approach Orford Ness we are treated to a spectacular sunrise, quite a rare occurrence at sea as sunrises so often seem to disappoint. This may have something to do with the fact that they are normally witnessed at the end of a long, cold and scary overnight passage.

We are able to bear away to steer about 20 degrees at Ness, and the wind obligingly veers to the East allowing us to set the mainsail with two reefs and unroll two thirds of the genoa. Under this sail plan we are now making fantastic progress although this is slightly difficult to gauge accurately as the log paddle wheel is again giving us optimistic readings. Flamingo is quite fast for an eight metre boat but I don’t think she’s making 6.3kts through the water.

Over the last two hours a plan has been forming in my head, I know that it is a good plan and I have worked through every aspect of it as I am prone to do. What I need to work out now is how do I introduce this plan to the remainder of the crew without inducing a nervous breakdown or a mutiny, and then getting to a point where the plan might even be implemented. The crew has now reached such a level of expertise that her evaluation of my plan may actually identify shortcomings that I haven’t spotted.

So it is that at about 0800 hrs I drop my bombshell, ‘what about going straight through to Brancaster, high water is about midnight and if we make good progress we could be in by 0200 hrs’.

This plan does make sense, the forecast has hardened for the remainder of the week and we really could be storm-bound in Lowestoft for a week. We are making good progress and will be able to make use of another full North going tide to help us. The total trip will be about 100 NM which we should be able to manage in 22 hours.

Over the next two hours the pros and cons of the plan are batted backwards and forwards until I receive the instruction to head below and work out a detailed passage plan. We both know that this will be a tough passage and that we will need to ‘dig in’ towards the end but it does make sense.

Once I had firmed up the new passage plan we settled to a lovely day’s sailing with the wind gradually veering, and our course becoming more and more Easterly the sailing got better and better.

We saw a little reminder of Flamingo’s early days under ours stewardship as we passed Caistor-on-Sea. When we bought her Flamingo sported a stainless steel pole rising from the cockpit with the solar panel and radar-dome mounted atop. In any kind of seaway this pole would whip about alarmingly like some precarious circus balancing act. I hated it, so the radar and solar panel were re-sited and the pole removed.

I stuck the pole on e-bay but there was very little interest and it sold for pennies. However when the guy phoned to sort out delivery he explained that it was going to support the radar-dome at Caister-on Sea volunteer lifeboat station. And there it stands to this day, doing a rather better job than it ever did for us.

A beautiful sail along the Norfolk coast was just what we needed, we knew that this was a necessary delivery trip that might be tough and include a lot of motoring but the sailing during the afternoon was perfect. As the sun set, silhouetting the lighthouse at Happisburgh the wind began to fail so we rolled away the genoa and resorted to motor sailing almost dead downwind under full mainsail, still making great progress though.

We had hoped to pass through the maze of crab-pots off Cromer and Sheringham with the last of the light from the sunset to help us spot the pots, sadly the light failed exactly as we reached the first of the hazards. Until you have sailed through them it is impossible to imagine just how many little flags on poles on top of little floats there are. If you hit one and it catches on your keel or rudder while sailing it can be dangerous. If you hit one while motoring, and it wraps itself into the propeller the damage can be catastrophic.

Armed with a torch and tethered to the safety lines Belinda sat on the foredeck spotting the tell tale flags and then shouting ‘port, port, port’ or ‘starboard, starboard, starboard’ at which point I would slew the boat in the indicated direction thus avoiding disaster. After about 90 minutes and eight miles we decided that the worst of the danger had past and Belinda returned to the cockpit. Tough, tiring and cold work but absolutely essential but this was the beginning of the fatigue that was gradually setting in.

While helming past Cromer on an earlier trip, I asked crewmate Tony why he was passing so close to the pots, his response made some sense, ‘If I am just missing this pot, I can’t cant accidentally hit another one that I haven’t seen’. Interesting.

After Sheringham there are still odd pots scattered along the coast so the watch cannot be simply abandoned, so for the remaining three hours Belinda watched over the top of the sprayhood, eyes protected from the glare of the instruments, while I helmed from further aft with my night vision compromised by the glow.

By 2230 hrs we were passing Wells-next-the Sea where we had to take avoiding action to pass astern of a local fishing boat, all done quite correctly, he was ‘stand on vessel’ and the responsibility to take action was ours.

During the last seven miles from the Wells fairway buoy to the start of the channel at Brancaster fatigue really took hold, we were both struggling badly with decision making. I simply could not steer the boat straight, there were vague patches of light along the coast to guide me and I was using the GPS rolling road feature but no sooner than I had got us back on track we would be 30 to 40 degrees off course again. Neither of us was able to make the obvious decision for Belinda to helm although I doubted my ability to pick up her pot spotting duties successfully anyway.

Returning to Brancaster after a long trip is always a bitter sweet moment, its is lovely to be home but there is always the sadness of the holiday ending. Throughout this trip I had imagined us, as we have done so many times before motoring imperiously into the beautiful harbour on a calm sunny afternoon. This time, after three months away I had even imagined bunting and balloons to herald our triumphant return.

Sadly this return was not to be glorious in any way. With the night now as dark as a pocket we are down to our last resort navigational strategy. I steer using the Navionics app on the i-pad, following a yellow line which shows the track that we took out of the harbour at the start of the year, this wrecks my night vision, not that there is much to see. Belinda returns to foredeck torch duty, again only calling out if there is a hazard that we are actually going to hit.

We have made such good progress that we have arrived exactly at high water, so depth of water shouldn’t be a problem so long as we stay on track, although it is now close to neap tides so the depth won’t be great. As we motor in at top speed I feel, through my fatigue that something isn’t right, there just isn’t the depth of water that I had expected. Even in this befuddled state I was able to deploy the Parker’s secret weapon, I raised the keel by a foot giving us extra clearance. I also reduced speed considerably. The 20 minute trip to our mooring was bewildering, nothing seemed to be where I expected it and Belinda was kept very busy spotting buoys and our neighbours’ boats. As we finally approached our mooring the water was so shallow that I was sure that we had made some error with our tide times, but I was so tired that I wound up more keel and we picked up Flamingo’s home buoy at 0015 hrs; 20 hours five minutes and 101.1 NM since we left Pin Mill.

We were shattered, a quick tidy to make the boat safe, keel up, rudder us so that we can take the ground as the tide falls and away to our berths, from where we emerged just before lunch on Sunday having slept the sleep of the righteous.

We woke to a grey and cold Brancaster and set about analysing what had happened as we came into the harbour. Our tide times were correct so there should have been more water, we concluded that we must have been so far off track that we were in the shallows.

After a tidy round and a sort out we headed up late in the afternoon to get showers at the clubhouse and then on to one of the end of trip treats that we have planned all summer; pizza at the Jolly Sailors. As we arrived at the club we found Paul, Jana and Pedro finishing up at the end of their shift, these were the first friends that we had seen for many weeks. We could have talked for hours but they had work to do and we had pizzas to eat.

It is not just the weather that is giving away the fact that the season is approaching its close, there are lots of little signs around us. The Scotch that I bought in Dordrecht has one dram remaining, Belinda’s Baileys is gone, the ‘frog tea’ is gone (frog tea is our favourite leaf tea that we drink milk free, this is made in a contraption with a frog atop, hence the name) and the geese are on the move.

Despite these signs we are determined to end the trip in our own time and on our own terms. We will spend a week in Norfolk, possibly with a trip to Wells leading up to the laying up lunch on Sunday. There we will meet up with Tonic and Little Grebe to decide how we will get the boats back to Fosdyke Yacht Haven ready to be lifted out for the winter.

On Monday afternoon we resolved the shallow water mystery, as High Water failed to come even close to its predicted height. Although tide heights are predicted accurately they can be influenced by wind and barometric pressure; we have never seen a tide fail to make its predicted height by this much though.