With the NW wind threatening to blow strongly straight down the river on Tuesday, causing unpleasant choppy conditions, we decide to have a look at Ipswich Marina. Truth be told the mate decided to look at Ipswich, I really didn’t fancy it for reasons that are hard to pin down. Ipswich is accessed via a lock which until our recent trips to Holland would have worried us but now this presents no impediment to our trip. Above the Orwell Bridge the river is very industrial with little coasters loading and unloading at a variety of mechanised wharves. In the past these commercial vessels manoeuvring in a confined space would have caused us concern but with our growing confidence and a determination to explore we press on.

Ipswich turns out to be a bit of a revelation, everything that Colchester wasn’t. There are some interesting independent shops and lots of bars and restaurants that look to be worth a visit. The marina is lovely with sufficient character to make it interesting, it also has a number of marine industries including Spirit Yachts whose products are worth a look (albeit not in our price bracket just yet). Christchurch park, just to the North of the town centre is also well worth a visit having the feel of an old country house grounds.

While in the marina office we are confronted by one of sailing’s little conundrums. Due to their shape boats are very difficult to measure with any degree of accuracy, and there are also several measures that can be used including: length over all (LoA); waterline length (WLL) or length on deck (LoD). Manufacturers endeavouring to sell boats tend towards emphasising just how much boat the customer is getting for their money; clubhouse braggarts tend towards the same exaggeration. Storage, lift-outs and docking are paid for by the metre so owners tend towards understatement. Flamingo, is a Parker 275 which evolved from the Super Seal 26, via the Parker 27 into the 275 and eventually the (dimensionally identical) Parker 285. It is possible to find several versions of the boats actual length so over the winter we took time to actually measure the hull which comes in at 8.09 metres, mathematicians worldwide will tell you this rounds down to 8.0m (plus transom hung rudder and pulpit). Based on this information we book into marinas quite correctly giving our length as 8 metres.

So as we stood in the first floor marina office waiting to pay for our berth we and the harbour staff can all see Flamingo protruding somewhat from her allocated 8m berth. Nobody is brave enough to mention it!

To be fair to marinas many of them will take it upon themselves to charge you for the shorter length anyway. Whatever you do though you must never understate your beam, it’s rather harder fitting a boat into a berth that is too narrow.

At this stage we need to start making some decisions about how and when we will sail Flamingo back to Brancaster. We have learned over the years that having analysed the weather forecasts to the best of our ability it is important to make and stand by the decision to go, or stay. On a longer passage, with fewer or no alternative ports of refuge an element of conservatism is essential, however the perfect forecast will never occur so this needs to be tempered with an element of realism.

We left Holland early based on our assessment of the weather, and with hindsight we got that decision completely correct, had we not crossed when we did we would still be there now in early October, although we were challenged by the conditions on that crossing.

On Thursday in Ipswich we identify a chance to sail to Lowestoft on Saturday, this is the shorter section of the passage at 35NM. We would then just have the long, 65NM passage back to Brancaster to do, ideally by the following Sunday in time for the laying up lunch at the Sailing Club. The only problem with this plan is that it is difficult to see a day in the following week that is suitable for the trip to Brancaster, this would leave us paying for the marina for an extended period and also stuck in Lowestoft for a wet and windy week. Not an attractive option.

On Thursday night we move the boat back to Pin Mill so that we have access to the sea at all states of the tide, ready to pick up any opportunity to sail North. By Friday we confirm that Saturday is the time to go to Lowestoft so we head ashore for our last afternoon and evening at Pin Mill. After another walk in the splendid woods on the cliff top we retire to the Butt & Oyster for our final visit. Earlier in the summer we have sat outside in glorious sunshine, today we luxuriate inside delighted that they have the fire lit. The season really is coming to a close.

As the tide recedes down the hard we are once again able to get to our Avon tender which now sports it’s Yamaha outboard motor; for most of the summer we have rowed the tender but now the water is rougher, the temperature is colder and the imperative is to get there as quickly as possible.

As we prepare the dinghy to motor past Cambria and away to Flamingo I am overcome with deep feelings of sadness, this really feels like the end, or at least the beginning of the end of our trip. We have had an incredible trip and visited some amazing places, Pin Mill however has become our adopted home, its reputation as the east coast’s most beautiful stops is well deserved. It will be hard to leave tomorrow, especially given that we need to start at 0400 hrs.

We are receiving increasing numbers of communications from concerned friends and relatives regarding the continuing windy weather. For us one of the joys of sailing this area of the East coast is that we know it well and are able to select from any number of snug anchorages and harbours where we can be safe and hopefully not diminish the budget too badly.

Being safe and having fun however are two very different things and with the weather deteriorating we are having to work quite hard at making the best of the ports that we visit, and days aboard at anchor.

A case in point is Brightlingsea; we both have a soft spot for Brightlingsea and look forward to visiting, but once there it is possible to visit both of its attractions in fairly short order. Our two night stay here turned into three as the forecast for gales extended for yet another day.

Brightlingsea does however boast one of the East coast’s very best curry houses so we decided that on arrival we would treat ourselves to a night at the Kovalam, this will be certain to raise moral as we settle into our temporary new home. The Kovalam has closed down! That black cat has finally had the last laugh.

We do manage to fill our days productively and restfully but the relentless wind, noise and rain can wear you down if you don’t take precautions to protect yourselves; going out for a curry for example.

The Monday that preceded our arrival here coincided with the autumnal equinox when the sun passes to the south of the equator for the winter. The spring tides that fall closest to the equinox tend to be the biggest tides of the year which always promises a bit of excitement on the coast.

For the non-sailors reading, tides alternate on a roughly fortnightly cycle; spring tides and neap tides. Spring tides have the greatest range; high water is very high, low water is very low. Neap tides are the opposite, with very small rise and fall of the water level.

There were unusually high spring tides on the day before our departure, and again the next day, this will provide a bit of entertainment and strong currents to help us on our way North. So we established ourselves on a bench outside the ever welcoming Colne Yacht Club to watch the tide rise in the full knowledge that we would be forced to retreat, although I’m pretty certain that if I’d stayed on the bench we might have achieved greater success holding the water back.

Driven back by the water we retreated to the CYC balcony for a quick cider, which turned into a lengthy cider because the club was also cut off with no way out. It was fun to reflect that at Brancaster and ports all along the coast this same scene would be playing out as people watched the entirely predictable spectacle. I think that there is something that draws people to unusual natural phenomena, heavy rain, thunder storms and tides included.

We are having some success in finding the small weather windows that do present themselves, achieving this by using a range of sources including the met office forecasts, surface pressure charts and a couple of specialist sailing web sites. From almost a week back we have been keenly eyeing a potential opportunity on Monday 30th September. This window of opportunity is however increasingly looking like one of those narrow slits in a castle wall used for firing arrows out of; gales forecast the day before and the day after. Without taking undue risks though we do need to start making our way North, there are three passages between us and home now, so we make plans for a passage back through the Wallet and into the River Orwell.

We awake on the Monday morning to calm; flay calm, no wind! We both noticed that for the first time in four days we could hear the birds singing, not the seagulls obviously, they are relentless regardless of the weather.There is some high cloud with big broken areas of sunshine. We take a walk down to the West Promenade to have a look at the sea state and are pleasantly surprised to see a flat sea and a very light SW wind.

We quickly complete our provisioning and passage preparation, continuing to plan and prepare for the worst so that we are less likely to be caught out. The passage plan is extremely detailed and includes extra GPS way-points, this will keep us on track and away from danger as well as boosting crew morale by exaggerating the impression of progress as the way-points whizz by. We also have a second copy to keep in the cockpit, this will reduce the number of risky climbs down the companionway steps; without the second copy there is a tendency to not check the plan as often as perhaps you should. With the wind outside the harbour clearly very light we depart 45 minutes early into very light winds, flat seas and sunshine.

Slowly, slowly we fetch SSW towards Colne Bar where the wind, away from the land, freshens and we bear away to sail on a beam reach along the Wallet. We pass Clacton Pier with the log showing over 5kts and the GPS consistently showing 7kts plus over the ground, these are proper passage making conditions, with the spring tide giving us a real boost. In less than two hours we arrive at Walton-on-the-Naze which marks the NE end of the Wallet and the point to bear away further and head up into Harwich harbour.

It is really looking like our planning has paid off as we are now just an hour from the sheltered waters of the harbour. We do need to take care as we are approaching low water springs, and the water level is predicted to actually drop below chart datum, meaning that depths will be less than the minimum shown on the chart; this is a very unusual situation. The VHF springs into life at 1414hrs instructing us to re-tune to Ch63 for a new gale warning, this is more like it! The F8 SW gale in Wight, Dover and Thames is expected soon, i.e. in six to twelve hours so we will be snug at Pin Mill before it hits.

Immediately the gale warning is issued the wind strength begins to reduce, this feels ominous; when the wind drops it often continues to drop away to nothing, or it blows hard. On a dead run, then a broad reach we make our way under full sail up though Harwich harbour and into the Orwell with the wind strength continuing to decrease. Having planned and delivered a great passage we really try hard to sail right up to Pin Mill, but against the last of the ebb tide our speed drops to 1.5kts with over two NM still to go so we have to reluctantly start the engine.

With the engine running we have unlimited electricity so with half an hour to go before we pick up a buoy we put on the heating and seal the cabin. By the time we have moored to a visitor buoy and secured the boat against the coming gale it has been raining for a quarter of an hour, so we retreat into the now toasty (ridiculously hot) cabin to dry wet oilies and tidy away.

Having had access to a supermarket in the morning, this evening is pizza night, and as we eat we reflect on having planned and delivered another passage that we are very proud of. In the end it was anything but demanding, in fact we had a very pleasant sail.

The overnight gale either didn’t materialise or we slept through it, we woke to another lovely morning and had a nice sail down to the container port and back. This afternoon we have decided not to take the dinghy up to The Butt & Oyster because we are forecast ‘a month’s rain in a day’. It’s going to need to get on with it because there is not much of the day left and we are still waiting. I wonder if it’s not just us that are still on holiday, maybe the met men are too. Checking the excellent Met Office live rain radar site showed the rain that should be hitting us falling simultaneously to the North and the South while we sat in sunshine. At one point the radar showed Ipswich, four miles to the North and Felixtowe five miles to the South both receiving the maximum dosage of 16-32mm/hour while we drank tea on the fore-deck.

After sunset, while we were tucking into creamy garlic mushrooms with white wine and fresh baked ciabatta the heavens finally burst into electrical life; a lovely thunderstorm finally lit up our evening and washed four days worth of Brightlingsea debris from the decks.

I hope that we haven’t used up all of our weather related good fortune, we have less than two weeks to get home and the forecast is relentlessly driven by deep low pressure systems; starting Saturday we have the remains of hurricane Lorenzo to deal with. Our plan so far is to watch it from the Butt & Oyster, or the Ramsholt Arms.

The weather as we approach the end of September has settled into a pattern of rain, or strong winds, or both; with plenty of sunny intervals if you look hard enough for them. Although the Blackwater offers sheltered sailing we still need to pick our time to sail very carefully, most days have F6 and F7 in the forecast and gale force winds accompany many of the storms.

A major advantage of the Parker Lift Keel system is that we can seek out all manner of little backwaters where we can raise the keel and find shelter where other boats can’t venture, Wivenhoe is one such spot.

On our first day at Wivenhoe we take a walk with a flask of coffee down the Colne river to Arlesford creek where we discover all manner of old machinery associated with the many sand and gravel workings found locally. I also found a bike that looked like it would fold up quite easily so that it could be stored aboard; as is so often the case the skipper was overruled by the first mate on this one. Pinned to the wall at home is a copy of the poem Leisure by W.H. Davies, we have been using it as inspiration as we have prepared for our new lives, today I managed to find time to ‘stare like sheep or cows’.

Walking along Wivenhoe waterfront on our first evening there we spotted a small fishing boat sitting very low in the water, surely this couldn’t be the third sinking of our trip. Sadly as we walked back the smooth patches on the water, caused by diesel, and the floating debris confirmed that it had indeed sunk on its mooring. It is so sad to see a boat sunk but a couple of days later she had been re-floated, hopefully the damage won’t be too bad and again nobody was injured. I am consoling myself with the thought that if you sail for long enough you are more likely to see things going wrong, as well as all of the good that we have seen.

We filled a rainy day with a train trip to Colchester, which as an old Roman city has much in common with our home town Lincoln; good and bad. We managed to resist the many shopping temptations placed in front of us and also soaked up some of the local history.

By Tuesday 24th it was time to move on, we were 72 hours into our allowed 48 hour stay and there was a small weather window in the morning that coincided nicely with the time of high water at our destination Bradwell Marina. Reviewing the log book now I discover that a weather window for us now includes F4-6 occasionally F7, unthinkable even at the start of this trip but both skipper and mate are becoming inured to dealing with stronger winds, so long as they are ‘going our way’. Beating into winds of F6 and above still hold very little attraction, ‘a gentleman never sails to windward’ as they say.

As we were preparing to leave Wivenhoe we were involved in a small tragedy at sea. For reasons that remain a mystery to me spiders seem to enjoy living on boats; perhaps it’s because boats are drier than the surrounding sea. We left Brancaster in July with one significant spider but have picked up two more whilst abroad, one of these has set up home under the outboard motor where he weaves his webs that seem to survive all of our voyages intact. With rudder raised in our mud berth the spider had done what any self respecting Dutchman would, reclaimed this new territory as part of the Netherlands, not understanding that I would be return it to the ocean before sailing. The last time he was seen our Dutch stowaway was swimming frantically towards the Wivenhoe tide barrier and we were left with a small tinge of sadness.

So it was that we got Flamingo back into sailing trim and under double reefed mainsail we ran down the Colne and the beat up the Blackwater furling and unfurling the genoa between squalls.

Bradwell is a new destination for us and looks promising as we will be able to explore the Dengie Peninsular by bike, the next two days don’t look like sailing days, even with our expanded weather criteria. Our entry to the marina reminded me of our early cruises on the east coast with Belinda standing in the companionway reading from the East Coat Pilot book, guiding us past the power station and up Bradwell Creek to the Marina. We tie up by 1200 hrs in time for the sun to come out for a while.

An interesting phenomena occurred while we were moored at Bradwell; we moored starboard side to as instructed by the Harbour Master and then secured the boat against the forecast strong winds. When we discovered that our electrical hook-up lead wouldn’t reach the power socket the Harbour Master kindly allowed us to rope her across into the next, port side to berth. Both of us however could not get out of our heads that we were still starboard side to and kept going to starboard when leaving the boat; neither of us actually stepped off into the marina.

The Dengie Peninsula consists of several small villages stretching north from Burnham-on-Crouch, it is picturesque but very remote; think Cotswolds mixed with The Blair Witch Project. Because it is a peninsula there is effectively nowhere to go, as a result there is very little traffic so we were able to enjoy safe and quiet cycling.

On the Thursday we took time to cycle across to the east side of the peninsula to have a look at St Peter’s on the wall, a chapel built by St Cedd in 654 AD. It’s history is fascinating, easily Googled and well worth a read. On a windy but sunny afternoon the simple exterior is impressive but the interior, once the heavy wooden door has been closed against the blustery wind had a very special, tranquil atmosphere.

I felt some slight pangs of guilt as I read the end of St Cedd’s history, amused by it’s almost Pythonesque ending. In 664 he returned to Lastingham in Northumbria where he contracted the plague, 30 of his monks from Essex followed him to Lastingham where they too caught the plague and died, one young boy survived.

On Thursday evening we walked along the sea bank to have a look at Bradwell Nuclear Power Station; built in 1962 it has now been decommissioned and put into a ‘safe state’ where it will remain for 70 years. Walking back along the sea bank as the darkness fell a black cat ostentatiously appeared on the marsh side, looked at us and ran right to left across our path! Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows; not that sailors are superstitious.

• 

• 

Looking at the forecast on Thursday night we found that there is even more rain and wind forecast for the foreseeable future but that there is a small window of opportunity (black cats excepted) for us to move to Brightlingsea on Friday morning. We may even be able to include a little leisure sailing in our day if we rise early and get on with it. We will however need to arrive in Brightlingsea on schedule at around 1200 hrs as the F5-6 westerlies are forecast to increase to yet another gale, with thunder storms in the early afternoon.

So tempting fate we are out early into the river and under much reduced sail beating to the west, against the wind but with the tide. Flamingo is sailing beautifully, even with her reduced sail plan, making 4.5kts plus into the wind. By the time we reach the M.V. Ross Revenge, the old Radio Caroline boat from the days of pirate radio, it is time for us to turn and sail east towards Brightlingsea. On a very broad reach, with the wind almost behind us we have a ripping sail back towards our destination. The wind was by now blowing briskly against the strongly flooding tide causing the sea builds to a really steep, short following sea that is exhilarating to sail. With strengthening winds forecast we opt to drop and stow the mainsail and run under genoa only, this makes the boat easy to manage in ‘front wheel drive’ mode and insures us against sudden squalls because the genoa is easily and quickly rolled away.

• 

• 

With cloud building in the west and the wind increasing we approached Brightlingsea harbour at well over 5 kts while I was working on ‘nav and strategy’ in the cabin. By the time that I emerged we were closer to the harbour entrance than I would have liked, especially given that we were bound for the very tight western arm of the marina and we needed time to prepare for docking. While I rolled the genoa away and started the engine Belinda fitted a full compliment of lines and fenders ready for whatever improvised docking arrangements the Harbour Master saw fit to award us.

The Harbour Master came alongside in his launch with docking instructions as we approached the dock. Into the dock, hard to port, avoid the dredger to port and the balconies of the flats to starboard, then poke the nose of the boat right into the corner where the H.M. will take our bow line, the wind will then push us into our berth. It’s not a plan that I would have come up with but it looked workable.

To make the turn to port in the now howling wind I needed lots of power on, but this left us travelling too fast. The westerly wind should have pushed us towards the flats on the starboard side, so I stayed to port near the dredger. Unfortunately the wind was bouncing off the flats pushing us towards the dredger, now was the time to find out what kind of luck the black cat was going to bring us.

We missed the dredger by the thickness of a coat of paint, I could see the H.M. on the pontoon watching very carefully, not that we were going to damage his dredger. We have a policy on Flamingo of not throwing lines ashore if at all possible, I make it my job to place the boat close enough for the lines to be passed. I approached the pontoon as fast as I dared to maintain steerage, then gunning the engine hard astern as Belinda passed the bow-line to the H.M. As promised the howling wind pushed the boat round into her berth and we were secure. By the time we had tied up with double lines and fenders it was again blowing a full gale with breaking waves in the main harbour. Despite all of our manoeuvring in Holland and our much improved confidence, this has been the most difficult piece of boat handling on our whole trip. Our policy when the going gets tough is: no shouting, no panic, keep calm and concentrate; that way if you pile up you have given the impression that you do know what you are doing and you have simply had a bit of bad luck.

We had stuck to our plan and worked as a team throughout, despite the fact that it was getting messy for the first mate on deck (as skipper I make it policy to not personally go forward of the traveller). Despite all of our work I felt that luck had favoured us today and suggested that perhaps we should get a black cat to keep aboard. That evening Belinda’s Google research was inconclusive regarding black cats and luck but one thing was quite clear; black cats aboard boats are always bad luck, so we’ll stick to the spiders.

• 

• 

After dropping our mooring at Pin Mill and heading down river we were determined that the forecast would not stop us heading out towards the River Blackwater, but also clear that the conditions once through Felixstowe harbour might change our minds. Our resolution however melted away and at the crossroads (the crossroads where you head out to sea or turn hard to port into the luxury of Levington marina) where we did a deal with the devil and booked a berth in Levington marina. The North Sea crossing and a bumpy night on a buoy had taken its toll, we needed a rest.

After a much deserved rest and pampering, we headed out the following morning determined to complete the trip to Wivenhoe on the River Colne (off the Blackwater). For students of East coast sailing, and readers of Charles Stock and Maurice Griffiths in particular, the passage from The Orwell to the Blackwater is a special one, immortalised in Griffiths’ Magic of the Swatchways. Once clear of Felixstowe harbour and past the Naze tower the course turns SW along the coast past Walton, Frinton and Clacton before turning NW into the Blackwater. All the way along the coast the channel, known as the Wallet, is partially protected by the off lying Gunfleet Sands.

Especially important to making a quick, enjoyable and safe passage is to ‘work the tides’, making sure that the tide is pushing you along your course. This is a lovely passage to plan as it is possible to use the last of the ebb to carry your boat down the Orwell, then a full flood to carry you through the Wallet and up into the Blackwater. The Wallet however runs in a South Westerly direction so the prevailing winds usually turn it into a lengthy beat, or a slow dead run. With today’s forecast of F4-5 SE winds, veering to SW and strengthening slightly later it looked like a perfect day, especially if we could get the the Eagle buoy at the Blackwater entrance before the wind veered. Making this passage well is very important to me, we have pragmatically scrapped our way across the North Sea, today is a day for a beautiful passage.

Out of Levington at 1125 hrs we take the very last of the ebb down river to find a ro-ro ferry stationary in Felixstowe harbour; I’ve never seen this before, not that I am a local by any means. With all of the boats slowing and unwilling to pass we followed suit but it didn’t feel right. We were monitoring Harwich VTS on Chanel 71 and had heard nothing, after a few minutes, and seeing that the boat had docklines securing it to the old ro-ro terminal at Halfpenny Pier we decided to pass it, and the waiting boats. As we accelerated the Harwich lifeboat passed us and the ferry giving us confidence that we had made the correct decision.

We were soon out past the Naze Tower at Walton and sailing past Walton Pier. For about 25 years from 1815 steam boats would bring holidaymakers from the East end of London to East coast resorts, most of which built piers of ever increasing length to allow the steamers to discharge their customers, even at low water.

The wind was slightly more southerly than forecast leaving us fetching (sailing close to the wind) along the coast. At the top of F3 the wind was perfect for Flamingo, with full sail set and trimmed perfectly with just enough twist in each sail she was ‘in the groove’ and tanking along. The 150% genoa that Kemp’s made for us five years ago sets perfectly in these conditions and drives the boat powefully. Champagne sailing, and exactly what I had hoped for. For non-sailors reading, the tadpole like ‘telltales’ streaming horizontally on the sail show that it is trimmed nicely.

This was exactly what I had hoped for and I was ecstatic; until the wind began to veer into the south and weaken, with this my mood bombed; how could this happen? Within minutes the reason loomed over the horizon, a wall of black cloud was not unexpected as rain was forecast to accompany the wind veering and strengthening a little.

Sailors sense told us that this was not going to be a slight increase in wind strength so we quickly put two reefs in the mainsail and were in the process of rolling away some of the genoa when the wind went from a nice solid F3 to gale force eight in about two minutes. All hell broke loose as we were still over-pressed so we struggled to roll away more genoa. Even under this tiny sail-plan we were badly overpowered, but the cloud had resolved itself into two distinct squalls and I felt that the wind would moderate within half an hour as they moved away. So we pressed on with the lee rail underwater and water running right along the deck, past the cockpit. This was far worse than anything that we had witnessed on our North Sea crossing but fortunately we wouldn’t have to endure it for 30 hours. To my mind this is a ‘normal’ situation (some of the crew disagree), which is dealt with by adopting sensible and seaman-like strategies, it is certainly well within the capabilities of the boat.

How could we be sure that the wind was gale force eight, given that our wind instrument now lives in a tree in South Holland? While we were fighting our own little battle the VHF sprang into life with a Pan Pan from Felixstowe harbour where a boat had been capsized in 35kts of wind (F8), in the harbour! Fortunately the crew were rescued by the lifeboat that had passed us earlier in the day.

We now had two miles to tack, badly over-pressed, upwind to the Eagle buoy before we could ‘bear away’ and bring the wind aft ready to run up into the river Colne. Although heeling badly and overpowered we were making reasonable progress but the sea state was building rapidly into a short sharp chop that was knocking the boat back repeatedly. A contingency plan was devised in which we would turn back down the Wallet and run back to Harwich with the wind on our starboard quarter, this would be safe and relatively easy sailing.

A quick ‘nav and strategy’ session revealed that we could safely bear away earlier than expected, crossing the shallows fairly close in shore and cutting the corner. This strategy, sailing close to a lee shore, has its hazards because it can become impossible to sail away from the shore with the inevitable result that you are blown ashore and wrecked. I was prepared to pursue this tactic because: we were able to tack comfortably; we weren’t going closer than a mile from the shore; it wasn’t too shallow and most importantly the sea state was blocking our course along the shore, but not away from it. We also had the engine in reserve. So it was that just over an hour after it hit we had cut the corner and were running quietly up the river Colne, past Brightlingsea unfurling more and more genoa as we swept along our way in failing winds to Wivenhoe, still with the flood tide pushing us along.

There is a cruel irony to the fact that whenever you have a rough time at sea it has always settled and the sun has come out by the time that you arrive at your destination; as ever this was the case. As we arrived at Wivenhoe sailing club, not only did we not get the hero’s welcome that we clearly deserved, we got a packed balcony watching for any weakness in technique as we manoeuvred Flamingo into their awkward visitor berth right up against the flood barrier. They had no idea of the ordeal that we had just endured, or that we had just spent a month in Holland practising manoeuvring into tight berths.

Did we get the classic Orwell to Blackwater experience that we had wanted; yes and no. I did, Belinda didn’t. When we review our day it is important that we focus on the whole passage of over six hours, not just the messy squall that lasted an hour.

Whenever we are in the area we try to visit Wivenhoe Sailing Club, it is invariably friendly and the village and surrounding countryside are lovely. There is the added bonus of the Knottage Institute, but more of that later. The moorings here dry out at low water, perfect for the lift keel Parker, so for the fist time in nine weeks we have fully raised the keel and the rudder, which looks like a fenland cabbage field with months of marine growth covering each side.

Finalising this blog just before bedtime we both sense that something feels odd about the boat; these little bits of intuition are always worth investigating. We didn’t have to work too hard to discovering the cause of our unease, for the first time in nine weeks the boat was not moving at all, having settled into her mud berth. Our home has been moving for almost three months and the absence of any motion at all felt distinctly odd.

“He is as brave as a lion and as quick as a cat. I think he cannot drown; but still it was an ugly place and ugly-” Erskine Childers

As we filled the water tanks and made final preparations to leave Amsterdam I found this autumn leaf on deck, a sure sign that we are entering the final stages of the season; time to be heading towards home.

I’ve also been re-reading Erskine Childer’s The Riddle of the Sands where the local skipper Bartels tells Davies that “the North sea is no place for your little boat, Captain”. Looking at the other boats in The Netherlands it is obvious from the gear on deck which are used at sea and which remain in sheltered inland waters. Of the seagoing boats we seem to be about the smallest, although the Parker is eminently seaworthy. This all reinforces the feeling that we should be getting back to our side of the North Sea fairly promptly.

Leaving Aeolus and arriving in the Orwell, 30 hrs later.

We slipped lines at 1025hrs DST (the whole voyage was conducted in British Summer Time) and were soon motoring down the North Sea Canal in Northerly F3 winds and bright sunshine, making sandwiches and preparations for the trip ahead.

The plan was agreed, we would poke our nose out of Ijmuiden harbour and see how we liked the conditions, if we were happy we would press on, if the conditions were beyond us we’d return to Ijmuiden to reconsider. We both knew that the sea state in particular would be at the top end of what we could manage, and that it would be windy; even Belinda said that she was partly looking forward to an adventure. Every analysis of all of the forecasts showed both the sea state and waves diminishing overnight; whatever we saw at Ijmuiden was likely to be the worst of it.

At 1225hrs we motored into our last lock in The Netherlands for this year, I placed the boat next to two bollards and in the increasingly strong winds Belinda secured to the top one; aware that the level in the lock was likely to fall I suggested that she swap to the lower one. As she was swapping the mooring line from the upper bollard to the lower one the boat bounced away from the wall and we were loose in a windy lock, this could end in embarrassment at best or damage at worst. In the seconds that it took me to formulate a plan to regain control of the boat Belinda gathered her mooring line and in a miracle of precision lassoed the bollard from what seemed metres away. Surely the Gods are on our side today.

Waves breaking on the wall at the harbour mouth suggested that in the rising wind the sea state was indeed going to be ‘marginal’. We had to squeeze between two ships that were arriving as we were leaving, this is not normal but one of them was headed for the southerly dock and as a result was on the wrong side of the channel.

As the saying goes “One man’s meat is another man’s poison”. Outside the harbour I was thrilled by the conditions; big waves but long, not like a Norfolk swell that knocks the boat about, and a steady F5 Northerly so that we could make good speed on a beam reach with two reefs and about a third of the genoa unrolled. Belinda on the other hand was not thrilled!

Talking about it later Belinda said that she would have turned around if I had suggested it and it was clear that she was not happy but agreed with my assessment that it was safe and possible to cross. What needs to be said here is that the boat will cope with these conditions and much worse, it is the crew’s capacity that is the limiting factor. Belinda’s main worry was that she would be unable to helm for extended periods in these conditions which would prevent me from getting any rest for around 30 hours. I felt that I could manage fine until around 0200 and that by then we would be away from shipping lanes and the weather would have abated, I would be able to rest then.

Once underway a long passage like this is broken down into a series of enjoyable but basically quite uneventful sections. Over the first two hours Belinda was clearly quite agitated which ended with a huge meltdown over the number of sandwiches that we had made! (Not the first time that she has placed undue importance on a sandwich in Amsterdam!) After a couple of sessions on the helm her confidence grew ( I know a number of sailors who couldn’t, or more wisely wouldn’t helm in those conditions) but her enjoyment was hampered by growing feelings of sea sickness. While Belinda helmed I took ‘micro-naps’ in the cockpit which really helped.

My stints on the helm were amongst the most enjoyable sailing that I have ever done. Beam reaching, with the wind on the side of the boat makes for fast comfortable sailing , the boat surges forward feeling powerful and the tiller is alive in your hand. The approaching waves look huge but the boat rises over them and rushes downhill into the next trough. A passing wave is so dynamic, lifting two and a half tons of boat like a cork then surging, hissing and foaming out under the lee bilge, there is nothing like it. So with Flamingo bucking, surging and accelerating I was enjoying an endless roller coaster ride, there was even a bit of whooping much to the crews chagrin.

By 2200hrs the wind and waves had moderated slightly as we entered the most dangerous and demanding part of the trip, night sailing in the shipping lanes; this really does sap your energy due to the constant concentration required. Spot a light; use binoculars to check the colour; take a bearing; check on the AIS; take a new bearing; make a decision. Are we going to pass ahead? Are we going to pass astern? Then repeat.

It was during the night that I spent some time pondering whether it actually makes sense to be doing this; all things considered though it doesn’t really make sense to drive a car at 70mph on the motorway either.

There are no photos of the whole day or night, we were basically too busy and scared to take any, plus photos of big waves always look like photos of little waves. The log book entries also become more succinct with entries such as: big waves; getting slower; long cold night and moon out covering the period 1800hrs to 0600hrs. By morning the tone of the entries changes, from 0400 to 0600 I had managed a sleep and awoke to find the wind gone, the waves tamed and the sun out; the next log entry simply reads ‘Lovely sunny morning, coffee, stroopwaffel’.

As we had expected, by breakfast time the winds went light (in strength) and variable (in direction) as we passed through the centre of the high pressure system that has controlled the weather. Sailing at 1.8kts on the Veerese Meere is lovely but with sixty miles still to go it was not going to get us to Harwich so we reluctantly but expectedly resorted to the motor.

For 11 hours we motor-sailed south making use of a full south-going tide, gradually closing the east coast of England. The first sight to reveal itself was the reactor dome at Sizewell nuclear power station, followed by the towers and lighthouse on Orford Ness and finally the cranes at Felixstowe. Approaching the familiar Suffolk coast with the Ore and Deben entrances gradually revealing themselves over flat seas, clear blue skies and sunshine we really began to feel at home. We even started to think of changing the plan, we love each of these rivers equally and in the sunshine they all felt so inviting, but the Dutch trip had started at Pin Mill and it would end there with a celebration in the Butt & Oyster.

Once over the shipping lane at Felixstowe there was even enough breeze for a genoa only run up the river at a stately 2.0kts to arrive at Pin Mill by 1700hrs. Having run the engine for so long the fridge was cold, so after packing away and completing the log we treated ourselves; Pertus Aged Red beer for me and Needle Black Forest G&T for Belinda.

Looking back there were elements of the trip that were awful, even more so for Belinda who had to fight sea sickness throughout. The tiredness, the fear and the uncertainty are all debilitating. But the sense of achievement is extraordinary, we have sailed the ‘little English boat’ across the North Sea again and none of our Dutch adventure would have been possible without this.

The effort has taken its toll though, we eat and have a whisky before settling into our berth by 2000hrs and sleep for 11 hours. With the effects of sleep deprivation gone we wake to broken cloud and a rather chillier Pin Mill than the one we left exactly a month ago. After a cup of tea in bed it is into swimmers for a dip in the, now substantially cooler Orwell, including re-acquainting ourselves with our friends the jelly fish. Breakfast is interrupted by a Spitfire flying low up the river and circling Flamingo once (he may have circled Pin Mill) before continuing his journey up towards Ipswich. We are going to blow up the dinghy and row up to the Butt & Oyster for a blow out lunch, then our journey continues. Pyefleet creek and the River Blackwater tomorrow, forecasts of F5 winds and moderate seas are not going to stop us (the actual F5 winds and moderate seas might stop us though, we’ll see).

Any sailors reading might want to miss out this lesson on how to suck eggs.

A passage plan is a legal requirement for any vessel making any sea passage, although the scale and nature of the plan is, at present up to the skipper. There are many parts to a passage plan such as provisioning, condition of craft and crew size and capability, but I’m going to summarise the main parts here.

For a North Sea crossing in a 27ft boat the planning really needs to be pretty meticulous so that we can focus on sailing the boat once we get going.

The order of operations is a bit of a catch 22 situation with weather and tides both potentially deciding your departure time. We appear to have a weather window on Wednesday and Thursday this week so with that in mind I start by looking at the tidal flows.

Our passage is broadly East to West with an average bearing of 255⁰ meaning that we are in fact planning to make about 30NM to the south as we cross from Ijmuiden, 125NM to Harwich. Tides in the North Sea run alternately North for six hours, then South for six hours with the stronger tides being on the UK side. If we plan to arrive in Harwich by 1500 hrs (UT) on Thursday we can use a whole south going tide to help us to make the 30 NM to the south easily and quite quickly, this will be important at the end of a 24 hour plus passage when we are tired. Note, UT (Universal Time) is the same as GMT, tides are all given in UT so it is best to plan in UT then apply local time right at the end.

Route planning is pretty simple, especially on this more northerly route where there are no Traffic Separation Schemes to cross, although we do have one Deep Water Route to cross. Route planning is aided by timely chart corrections as the authorities are prone to placing wind farms in your path which would come as something of a shock had you not added them to your charts. So our old route, using waypoint C25-5 is now redundant and we will try to pass north of the East Anglian wind farm using new waypoint C25-6.

With the route planned and the projected finish time decided it is fairly simple to work back to a start time, and intermediate times to ensure that you are on track. You also need plans for alternative ports should your primary destination become untenable. For us this has to be Lowestoft, 30 miles to the North which would make a good destination should we miss the south going tide, and the wind blows from the south.

Now the weather, I would like it to blow F3 steadily from the SSE for about 30 hours, obviously this isn’t going to happen. West winds are a no starter, East winds are not much use, boats sail slowly with a nasty motion with the wind behind. Southerlies are great but are generally associated with low pressure systems, and the low pressure systems that are hitting us at the moment have been rather deep and fierce. Northerly winds are not ideal because they can blow all of the way down the North Sea raising the sea state, however the northerlies that we have at the moment are associated with a slow moving high pressure. So although the strength is a little above what we would like, and the direction is not perfect we are at present planning to go with northerly winds, slightly stronger than we would like.

So tomorrow at 1130 local time we will leave Aeolus and make our way down the North Sea Canal, through the lock and out to sea by 1530. On the way down we will have a look at the latest forecasts and once we poke our nose out of the harbour we will have a better idea if the passage is going to be possible. All of the forecasts show the weather moderating during the passage, so if it is manageable at the start we plan to press on. If not we will about turn, back into Ijmuiden and start planning all over again.

As we booked into Aeolus in Amsterdam the harbour master raised his eyebrows over our announced intention to sail from there on Friday 13th. There is a maritime tradition that a voyage does not begin on a Friday because it brings bad luck, without adding the complication of it being the 13th! We overruled these objections with the reasoning that the voyage had begun on a Wednesday in July. So after a leisurely croissant and coffee breakfast we were out of Aeolus by 1000 hrs, through the Oranjesluizen and through the lifting section of the the Schellingwouderbrug by 1105 hrs. By 1120 hrs we were beating our way north in a very agreeable NNW F3 wind under sunny skies headed for Marken. It felt quite liberating to be sailing quite some distance, away from canal banks, locks and bridges with just the wind and tiny waves to contend with.

The Markermeer is an inland sea that got its name from the island of Marken, sadly part of the process of creating the Markermeer was the building of a causeway so Marken is an island no more. As we arrived in the late afternoon we were greeted by about 15 local traditional boats at what looked like the start of a very leisurely race. They really were a glorious sight.

• 

• 

• 

Marken harbour is impossibly picturesque and affords amazing sunsets to the west over Monnickendam on the mainland. The village itself is equally beautiful and quite tourist oriented without having become a pastiche of itself. The causeway has allowed an endless succession of coach trips to visit the harbour so you are able to rise and take breakfast in peace before the harbour suddenly becomes extraordinarily busy by mid morning. The assembled crowds then magically vanish at around four in the afternoon leaving the harbour in peace again. Just like Wells-Next-the-Sea.

• 

• 

We wiled away our time cycling and enjoying picnics around the island. The only thing is with the island being 1.7 miles long there isn’t actually anywhere that you could cycle that would really justify the title of bike ride. A pattern emerged on Saturday; after breakfast we cycled the length of the island to the little beach by the lighthouse with a flask of coffee. It was so lovely there that we cycled back to the boat to make a picnic and collect swimmers and returned for an afternoon of swimming and eating. The (fresh) water was beautifully clear, the beach sandy and the weather perfect, but boy was the water cold. No jellyfish though.

A great example of how the island has maintained it’s identity is the ‘Ice Wedding’ festival. Most of what I am reporting here was translated by us so apologies for any inaccuracies. It appears that to celebrate the coming of the winter ice, and the skating season the whole village dresses up in traditional costume and parades around the village before various couples are ‘married’ by the village Burgher.

It was great to see almost everybody in the village, regardless of age joining in the festival. We noticed four local boys who had been diving into the harbour the night before and being typical noisy teenagers, all dressed up and taking part in the village’s traditions.

It is a proven fact that the Dutch are the worlds tallest nation. Not too far into the ceremony we noticed that we didn’t understand a word that was being said, and that trying to see over a crowd of the worlds tallest people is a waste of time; especially for Belinda and I. So we retired to the beach and the lighthouse once again.

On our final afternoon in Marken we discovered a couple of elephants on the boat that needed to be discussed. The plan from here was to go north for three days to Texel the first of the Dutch Frisian islands and from there back to Amsterdam to begin to prepare for our return crossing to England. The synoptic weather chart showed that by then the current spell of high pressure, light winds would be over and a succession of deep low pressures would dominate the weather. If we waited until then we could be into the middle of October before we got another chance, and fog has begun to be mentioned in the shipping forecasts. To add to this the moon is good for a night passage until about the 22nd October but certainly no later. While it was easy sitting in the warmth of the clubhouse talking about a late October crossing, it’s less easy when you are looking at the sharp end of it.

Secondly (kids in bed, cat out time again), one beautiful Dutch town is much like any other and for now we feel that we have ‘done’ cobbles and gables and canals.

And finally, apart from many conversations with Dutch sailors, conducted almost entirely in the present tense, the only English voices that we have heard for a month have been our own, and of course Aggers, dear old Aggers, I don’t know how we’d have coped without him.

So we have decided to head back to Amsterdam from here with the aim of crossing back to Suffolk towards the end of the week if possible. We can then visit the places that we were unable to see in August.

The sail back to Amsterdam was rather more demanding than our more recent sails, and I loved it! This really is a boating trip and I think I have been hankering after some sailing. I really worry that I am tempting fate here with a North Sea crossing in the offing.

It was raining quite heavily when we set off and visibility was poor, motoring north, into the northerly breeze was very cold but once we turned south it was just cold, and wet; proper sailing. Wrapped up in my oilies I felt in my element, although the way that they restrict your vision can be claustrophobic in these busy waters, not a problem in Norfolk obviously.

Back under the Schellingwouderbrug and into the Oranjesluizen we finally tackled the lock like a local. We are usually the timid, over-polite English boat, last into the lock, indecisive and last out. This time I got in amongst the crowd, spotting that they were all going starboard side, we went for the port side, which we prefer. The only other boat going to port was a 35ft steel tjalk (traditional dutch vessel), who promptly stopped at the back of the lock, leaving no wall for me. Quick as a flash I gunned the motor and told Belinda to get ready as I was going up the middle to the front of the lock, except as we tried to pass the tjalk he just kept going! As I darted across the front of him, avoiding his bowsprit he finally slowed and we grabbed the last 27ft of wall at the front of the lock. How we all laughed!

So now we are back in Aeolus with a plan to move to Ijmuiden on the coast tomorrow to prepare and look for a weather window. The mood aboard has lightened, we both know that we have made the correct decision although sat here we both said that we would like to stay here forever, or at least until Brexit is sorted, say ten years?

I read that the Japanese like to see Mount Fuji at least once in their lives, but that often when they visit it is misty and they are unable to see it. They are quite happy with this because Mount Fuji retains its mystery ready for them to visit again sometime. We haven’t seen everything that we wanted in Holland this time, but there will be other times.

The next morning on the Braassemermeer dawned bright with a nice F3 SW wind which gave us a chance to have a chilled sail with no destination, no barges or canals or locks. But first we had urgent business to attend to; bunkering. A quick visit to the bunkering barge resulted in us leaving with a full tank of diesel, plus ten litres in a can. Hopefully this will see us out all of the way back to Brancaster, we’ll see.

Lake sailing is a relaxed and easy going way to spend a sunny morning but it’s hard to get properly into sailing mode, and by lunch time we had been twice round the lake, looking down into the villages and fields that surround the lake.

Not long after lunch we had managed to moor on the bank of the canal in Oode Wettering. Although it is a fairly nondescript village in South Holland it is a great stop off for us; firstly it’s free (free moorings, typically 3×24 hours are provided throughout The Netherlands), secondly we can provision easily and finally we can take the bikes ashore. We had a great bike ride, using one of the many local foot/cycle ferries to help us get to Alphen aan den Rijn where we enjoyed a flask of frog tea.

• 

• 

• 

In the evening I tried to plan the next day’s trip around the back of Schipol Airport up to the Niewe Meer ready to take the night convoy into central Amsterdam. If the previous trip had been hard to plan, this one seemed impossible with so many busy bridges having limited opening schedules, all detailed in Dutch with typical almanac style abbreviations to decipher. What we could just about make out was that the main obstacle was the Schipoldraabrug, and that if we missed the openings between 1230 and 1330 we would be waiting for the next opening at 2000 hrs! Eventually we had a vague plan and by 0825 we were slipping our lines as a sand laden barge chugged by. Spotting an opportunity I gunned the motor to catch up and start our next blue wave. Having caught up she seemed to be progressing very slowly which Belinda explained as she checked the speed limit, 3 kts! Ooops, even Flamingo’s wash was threatening people’s gardens at the 6 kts it had taken to catch up. Progress slowed even further until we were stationary for 20 minutes, we finally worked out that they weren’t waiting to get past the canal bank works ahead, they had a barge load of sand for the canal bank works ahead ! So now we were a blue wave of one.

Once past the barge Belinda took the helm while I worked on ‘nav and strategy’ in the cabin (‘nav and strategy’ is a euphemism for slacking). I noticed the engine revs drop off and our course change, feeling proud that she had clearly negotiated some sort of hazard without the need to consult me. When I emerged she explained that she had had to take shelter under a tree to avoid a barge that emerged around a blind bend, the tree having donated a branch in the process. Later we noticed that the branch wasn’t a gift, we had left half of the wind indicator in the tree.

• 

• 

• 

Along the way we passed through the Westeinder Plassen, a maze of tiny waterways and long thin islands containing thirty yacht havens, houses, boat houses, orchards, fields of crops, boats old and many many lovely views. It was impossible to take your eyes off the passing scenes for fear of missing something, we never really got a photo that did justice to the exquisite waterside houses.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We reached the Schipoldraabrug with 45 minutes to spare and were soon on our way again, mooring in the Niewe Meer by early afternoon with nine hours to kill before the night convoy through Amsterdam.

We spent a pleasant afternoon cycling in the Amsterdam Bos, a huge wooded park ending up back near the Schipoldraabrug where the first mate was made to sit on the naughty chair as punishment for the loss of the wind instrument.

The Amsterdam night convoy is one of Europe’s sailing oddities, at around midnight you are called to muster on the VHF radio and all of the gathered boats set off together. A four lane bridge with four train lines and a motorway open to allow you access to the city, then a further eleven bridges open sequentially to finally give you access to Het Ij, the main river/canal through Amsterdam. A nice trick that we learned a couple of years ago is to tie up in the street as the night convoy ends at around 2am rather than venture out onto the busy Het Ij to search for and pay for a marina.

• 

• 

• 

So it was that we awoke the next morning in a rainy and dull Amsterdam to make our way out through the last bridge and onto the ridiculously busy Het Ij which we achieved with Belinda making the majority of the good decisions, I was feeling gung ho and planned to slalom across the river.

Once we had crossed the main channel and made our way up past the central station we picked up a space in our favourite Amsterdam marina, Aelolus. With friendly staff, easy access to the city centre, two supermarkets and overnight fees of £12 it is hard to imagine anywhere better to stay in Amsterdam, apart from any of the posh hotels! On arrival the Havenmesiter invited us to have coffee with him, and the following morning the guy on the boat next to us made us coffee too. A proper friendly place to stay.

While we were looking at where to visit we had been advised to try Rotterdam rather than Amsterdam on the grounds that Amsterdam is a ‘tourist hellhole’. This may be true but it is a fun and endlessly picturesque hellhole so long as you don’t stay too long.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Sadly we missed Adam because the job he was working on overran.

British maritime tradition has it that a passage plan is made from a vessel’s current location towards its planned destination; to plan a passage to a destination would demonstrate a lack of understanding of the many factors that may prevent you achieving your now stated goal.

On the Dutch inland waterways this method has much to recommend it as the Dutch have devised several fiendish ways to make your progress difficult to predict with any degree of accuracy. You are unlikely to get lost, and your boat speed is predictable as you will be motoring not sailing but beyond that there are difficulties.

Time and tide, they say, wait for no man. The Dutch have however taken control of the tides to a great extent and the pilot books contain phrases like ‘flow rates will vary depending on the sluicing arrangements in the Roompot’. Bridges and locks also impede your progress, guidance is provided, in Dutch, but it is only guidance.

So the passage plan from Dordrecht was nominally towards Oude Wettering, north, with a final destination of Amsterdam where we hope to meet Belinda’s brother Adam later in the week. Major obstacles to progress today will be one lock and nine opening bridges, one of which the Veerkeersbrug Alblasserdam, right at the start of the day opens to a strict timetable, this will effectively determine our start time. We then need to time our arrival at Gouda to coincide with the 1428 opening of the rail bridge there, missing it will involve us in a two hour wait.

Assuming that we make these deadlines we should arrive at the pretty town of Alpen aan den Rijn at around 1800 hours as the bridges end their daily opening routine, leaving us ‘trapped’ between two bridges on one of the many free waiting pontoons. This is a plan that we are quite happy with but if we get further it will be a big bonus.

As mentioned previously, the secret to making rapid progress it to join a ‘blue wave’ because the intermediate bridges will open pretty much on demand. Our blue wave started well as the dutch boat moored next to us slipped his lines with us at 0800 heading north, so now we were two. Two boats who had made the same mistake, we were 50 minutes early for the Veerkeersbrug Alblasserdam! This was mostly because my tide calculations predicted the flow in the vast Noord navigation to be slack, as it was we found that we were gaining two knots.

As we approached Rotterdam, with the favourable tide now diminishing we turned north into the Hollands Ijssel where the tide was again in our favour. This waterway starts out quite wide with well established banks, not dissimilar to the Witham as it winds through fenland Lincolnshire near Tattershall. At this point the weather turned showery and the ship’s brolly had to be deployed.

• 

• 

• 

Heading up the Hollands Ijssel we were overtaken by a large container barge (shown in the photo below); as it would have it we were approaching another bridge which opened promptly for the barge, allowing us to slip through. As we passed Noah’s ark (seriously) another barge passed us, but with the river narrowing the barges were forced to slow for bends and bridges to the extent that we were able to keep up, so now we had a blue wave with invincible pathfinders. With the tide still pushing us and bridges taking three minutes each, not the allowed twenty, we were well ahead of schedule, to the extent that we had the possibility of making the Gouda rail bridge two hours early!

• 

• 

• 

The last obstacle was cleared as the twin locks opened simultaneously at Gouda with us taking the port one and the barges to starboard. We arrived at the bridge at 1220 in time for the 1228 opening a full two hours ahead of schedule.

As they narrow the waterways are lined with houses of all sizes, shapes and styles, but pretty much everyone has a boat of some description with an inventive way of launching or docking it. At Dordrecht we had met the English sailor that we had originally seen in Willemstaad, he was reluctant to go north considering it to be boring, ‘how many back gardens do you want to look into?’ was his question. At this rate, lots!

With two hours in hand we slipped through Alpen aan den Rijn where the properties and boats became more Henley-on-Thames than Pin Mill, we had considered stopping here to explore but it looked a bit too polished. Our plans were almost thwarted when the last bridge before leaving Alpen aan den Rijn was found to have failed in the down position. We felt that it was a sign of our increasing confidence that this did not cause any panic, we simply found a nice bank-side spot and tied up ready to explore the town. Before we could even get the kettle on however the bridge was back in operation. While waiting the Dutch skipper in our blue wave told us about two excellent marinas in the Braassemermeer but our decision was made, after a week in the city we were going ‘off grid’. On arrival the skies cleared again and we were able to find a nice anchorage in 1.6m of water in the Braassemermeer, the Parker lift keel helps a lot here. Our towards destination of Oude Wettering is at the northern end of the Braassemermeer so we have to consider that we have made excellent progress today, placing Amsterdam within easy reach in one more day, bridges permitting.

The Braassemermeer is a beautiful lake about 1.5 miles long and wide that is famed for it’s wildlife. As we settled for our evening meal we agreed that we had loved Dordrecht but here, at anchor in a beautiful spot away from everything was where we are happiest, until the water, electricity or fresh food run out that is.

Ok so, before reading post this you should probably make sure the kids (if any) are in bed; that the cat is out and that you are using your old computer/tablet/phone. I really wouldn’t like anybody to swear at the kids, kick the cat or damage valuable IT hardware as I explain how difficult it is living on a yacht all summer and doing exactly what you want, when you want, in the sunshine.

As any sailors reading this will know, undertaking an unknown passage is nerve wracking. It is dangerous and of course over here there are unfamiliar hazards; you are also a long way from home if something goes wrong. So moving on every couple of days means that you are rarely free of some form of self imposed stress.

Now, measure out a square 2.4m by 2.4m on the floor, insert two small sofas, one table and a camping cooker. Try living in that, with the wife, for seven weeks (and counting)!

So you are living in a very confined space with a constant background anxiety that chips away at morale relentlessly. To counter this you are doing whatever you want, the weather is summery, there is no work to go back to and you are visiting a succession of fascinating and beautiful places.

So far the trip has been a dream, but as we retired to the boat having paid for two nights in one of our favourite places the tension was evident. We had booked one full day here, we needed to plan the next stage of the trip during that time, make some big decisions and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. After a hastily convened crisis meeting we opted to extend our stay to five nights (at 10.40 euro per night, UK marinas take note!) to allow us to slow down and chill out a bit, this turned out to be an astute decision.

I would recommend Dordrecht to anybody as a city break, it’s history is fascinating, the city is beautiful and the people so laid back and friendly.

A visit to the Grote Kerk is essential and a climb up the tower reveals incredible views across the city and the rivers that made the city so wealthy. The tower, which rises directly above the Maargensgat Jachthaven houses Europe’s largest and I would suggest most persistent Carillon, which chimes/plays every 15 minutes. If you are not a fan of the Carillon, don’t stay at Maartensgat.

The history of the city and its art and architecture is well documented on the web and is well worth a read. The city is currently celebrating the Dordrecht Conclave which helped to unify the church in The Netherlands, as part of this celebration they have a robot working in a cell to ‘hand’ write a copy of the first state bible just like the monks did.

• 

• 

• 

During our stay we also found time to see some solar powered boat racing, it was interesting but there was certainly no need to set my camera on ‘sport’ mode to freeze the action. Still, from little acorns mighty oaks grow.

Other highlights included Belinda’s favourite the Villa Augustus, a water tower that had been converted into an hotel, restaurant and gardens; many walks and cycle rides to explore the city where we found a wealthy suburb consisting of beautiful elegant houses clearly inspired by Mackintosh and Frank Lloyd-Wright.

• 

• 

• 

Thursday turned out to be a rather dramatic day, you may recall the photo of Maartensgat from the last blog post.

During the afternoon the boat at the bottom left of the harbour sank on its mooring, due to a portable bilge pump siphoning water back into the unattended boat. Within half an hour a smell of diesel began to spread around the harbour, obviously from the boat’s fuel tank. As the evening progressed however the smell and the film of oil in the harbour grew worse and worse. As it turned out a barge had been bunkering (fuelling) at the diesel barge at the top of the photo and they had ‘spilled’ about three tonnes of diesel into the river, which had promptly blown into the harbours and throughout the city via the canals. We now found ourselves in the middle of a thoroughly well organised environmental clean up, Flamingo was even featured in the background of local news reports, just. Bunkering ourselves a few days later the pump attendant was quite rightly very fussy to see that we didn’t spill a single drop in the canal, so I imagine that having spilled three tonnes somebody was going to be in trouble.

• 

• 

A special treat on Thursday evening was a Carillon concert at the Grote Kerk that we were able to enjoy from the boat. As far as we could find out a famous concert pianist played, via loud speakers in the church tower, accompanied by the carillon. It made quite an odd image with us huddled from the cold inside the boat with the companionway cover open enough to enjoy the music, but not enough to let in too much diesel smell. The sound was incredible however.

For our last night in Dordrecht we decided to have a decadent afternoon and evening. The weather had consisted of heavy showers which we had managed to dodge fairly effectively but they were sapping morale. We decided to secure a table outside a bar that had caught our eye overlooking the Nieuwe Haven.

One of the things that I love about Holland and Belgium is that they always serve beer in the right glass, and in Holland they even make a point of rotating the glass, and the bottle so that they face you correctly. I’m less happy about their tendency to put 8.6% alcohol in the beer, which then blurs the decision making process about ‘just having one’. So one thing led to another and another and before we knew it we were watching England play football in a Vietnamese takeaway and eating excellent fries with mayonnaise. The evening ended with me making two new friends at Dordrecht Pride, while Belinda tried to ‘turn’ a leather clad New York cop!

• 

• 

Still, all good things must come to an end, so after a week of pretending to be smart city centre hipsters we prepared to get back on the road. Stress levels aboard had moderated and we actually felt some level of optimism as we set off towards Amsterdam.