On the Morrow

A special evening in the flooded valley of the Crouch is all one could hope for. Keep breathing and we should do it all again on the morrow. X

Come To England - And Go Creek-Sailing

Creek sailing presentations delivered over the winter period have included two of the most prominent organisations in sailing: the RYA, and the Cruising Association. To book a talk at your group or club please make contact.
I'm also thinking of giving the opportunity of a 'masterclass' in creek-sailing to one or two people this year. I can count on one hand the people I have allowed on board my boat so this one will be special... We'll soon be on the water carving wakes and making lasting memories of adventure under sail power alone. Thank you for your patronage at the Creeksailor pages over the bleak winter months and if we pass on the water do say hi. Good sailing to all in 2018.

River Stour - Constable Country

I boarded my wooden 16ft miniature gaff cutter Shoal Waters three hours before high tide at her mud mooring in Goldhanger Creek. There was no wind to speak of, but I had a couple of jobs to do before setting off – and earlier in the day I’d heard a promising forecast of Force 3 to 4 south-easterly winds to come during the next couple of days. Most people in my area on swinging or drying moorings use a tender dinghy to reach their cruiser, but in certain cases on a drying estuary this is an unnecessary luxury which I avoid by arriving with plenty of time to walk out over the soft mud. 

A new day begins at Lee-Over-Sands

 

Martello Tower

  The incoming flood reaches her approximately three hours before HW and, if I’m late and she’s afloat, by donning chest waders I can still get out to her quite safely on foot up to  two hours before or after high tide. With HW at 1630 I unfurled the jib, raised the mainsail, loosened the outhaul and relaxed the normal diagonal crease in the peak to coax the sail into a driving shape, and was away at 1600. At 2020 I had covered 10NM and anchored inside of Colne Point and the Inner Bench Head buoy in 6ft of water to watch a glorious East Coast sunset over East Mersea and the River Colne. The sailing here was easy, a stolen passage. Fettle Shoal Waters’ lines here and there and sit on the leeward side, as if rubbing a magic genie bottle; she seems to move under her own breath… 

Clacton ahead

Sailors based near Osea Island in the River Blackwater and heading up to Harwich lose 50 minutes to tide time differences, so I generally have to do the passage in two legs. The following morning I left at 0440 with the objective of being north of the Pye End buoy by low water, ready to take the new flood into Harwich harbour. The sun was up, and I slipped close by the shore to round the corner at Lee-Over-Sands to get over the turbulent waters at Colne Bar. I know round-Britain sailors who say there is no other place where the sea state becomes as easily agitated as it does here. The south-easterly breeze had come in and, keeping relatively close inshore, I could admire the numerous Martello towers sited along this stretch that were built to defend against a feared Napoleonic invasion which never happened. They remain a constant source of wonder and intrigue for tourists visiting the area and, combined with other interesting architectural features on the way, brighten up any trip along what is known locally as ‘the Sunshine Coast’. 

Colourful beach huts at Frinton on the ‘Essex Sunshine Coast’

At 0630 we passed Clacton Pier. The wind dropped off again, but we passed the Wailings beach huts at Frinton-on-Sea at 0750. Unlike other huts on this stretch of coast that sit on the seawall, these demand a premium for anyone wanting  a beach lifestyle as they are built upon wooden stilts on the beach, so at high  tide they are surrounded by water. By 1200 the wind was unsettled, Force 2 with gusting lifts from the south-east, and there was warm, hazy sunshine. Sailing engine- less – and especially in light airs – I really have to be careful of being drawn too close inshore at Naze Ledge and Pennyhole Bay as, when the tide turns, instead of being sucked into Harwich with the main flow of water you are pushed back down the coast. This time I was well positioned north-east of the Pye End buoy and Lord Nelson’s Medusa Channel and came into Harwich as planned. I could now let the main out for a glorious broad reach up the River Stour.

Constable country

With a constant stream of international shipping arriving at Harwich harbour, and passenger ferries coming and going at Parkeston Quay – both at the extreme eastern end of the River Stour – you enter what is in essence the gateway into Constable country with extreme caution! However, life moves along at a slower pace elsewhere and at the other end of the river, in England’s smallest town, Manningtree. The river ebbs and flows in a west-east manner, and at just short of 9NM long it is the dividing line of the county of Essex on the south side and Suffolk to the north. Its navigable limit for yachts coming in from the sea was cut short by the building of a dam at the top of Cattawade Creek at Brantham. However, Shoal Waters has been up to Flatford Mill and was the last boat known to do so, taken by her previous owner, the late small-boat adventurer Charles Stock, in 1969. She entered what was at the time the disused and canalised section of the Stour, via the derelict Brantham Lock, to reach the location of arguably that most famous of John Constable paintings, The Hay Wain.

 I hoisted the centreplate and nosed into Essex’s Bramble Creek, absorbing the tree-lined setting for a few moments and leaving the sails gently flapping while the kettle boiled and I made a cup of tea. After a quick scan with the binoculars, I crossed from south to north to reacquaint myself with Johnny All Alone Creek, where on previous visits I had spent some wonderful nights at anchor. 

The Stour, like many rivers on the East Coast, has a historic connection with the Thames sailing barge: the Wrinch farming family on the Shotley Peninsula at Erwarton, on the Suffolk side of the river, owned a fleet of seven, mostly stack barges. ‘Stackies’, as they were known, carried bales of hay piled 8-10ft high above the deck and transported  this to London, and usually returned  with what was known as ‘street mixture’ –  horse muck that local farmers spread on the fields. The hulk of one of the barges, Snowdrop, lies in my home creek, Goldhanger. Another of the Wrinch barges, built in 1881 and amazingly still regularly seen sailing up and down  the East Coast, is the pretty little 16-ton farm barge Cygnet.

house for Essex, designed by modern artist Grayson Perry in collaboration with FAt Architecture, it is living architecture, with beautiful views of the river, and is available to the public as a holiday let

 I was enjoying some memorable shallow-water sailing in what is, in many ways, a river of contrasts. Solitude is around every ness (extension of land/ headland) and in every sweeping bay. There are a few nesses in the Stour, all in close proximity: Erwarton Ness, Stutton Ness and Wrabness. I cruised away from the buoyed deep-water fairway and inside the yacht moorings that lie close to the beach at Wrabness. Many of the desirable beach huts here are organic in appearance, built on stilts, and dinghies are left parked on hairy saltings in a ‘God’s Acre’ kind of place. Up on the headland sits a unique house with a gold roof and green-and white-tiled facades. Designed by modern artist Grayson Perry in collaboration with FAT Architecture as a House for Essex, it  is living architecture with beautiful views of the river, and is available to the public as a holiday let. 

Wrabness as viewed from the Stour

For sailors, placid waters abound in the heart of the Stour, complemented by an air of regality when one cuts a course across Holbrook Bay, overlooked by the landmark Queen Anne-style building of the Royal Hospital School – a school steeped in 300 years of naval history and tradition. I continued up the Stour on a rising tide, crossing all the shallow bays into a rill in the south shore saltings known as Gallister Creek. Most of the Stour’s creeks are only visible at low water, when they appear as streams carved in mud. At 1500 Shoal Waters slid over Landooze Rill where we looked beyond a decaying relic into Millers Reach, passing the bygone-days setting of old Mistley boatyard and, amusingly, getting caught in the lee of Mistley Quay. This area is known for its swans and, more recently, for a controversial fence that was put in place, barring ancient public access to and from the water. Mistley is still very much a working port, with ships landing approximately 300 ton of grains, forest products and general cargoes annually.

Mistley Quay – still very much a working port

 Return passage

 With an hour of flood to go I turned round and began the return passage. The wind suddenly backed east, which meant a beat back downriver. I found I could sail an easy northward course over to one of Suffolk’s little secrets, Newmill Creek – and if I had to pick a favourite creek on this trip, this one with its salmon-pink mill house just edges it. Although there was only an hour before HW, I had to raise the centreplate to come in for a close look. When the mill came up for sale in the 1820s, it was advertised as having a wharf capable of receiving ships up to 100 tons: however, it had ceased operation by the beginning of 1900, and is now a dwelling. 

Newmill Creek in Suffolk

By 1635 Shoal Waters was beside Smiths Shoal, a red-can-topped post, and I was tacking downstream. At 1920 I had dodged another container ship and shaved an exit by Harwich breakwater, and I began the journey back down the open coast, taking advantage of the rising easterly wind to sail over the last of the northerly-flowing ebb tide. Darkness fell completely by 2300 and I sailed through the night, picking out the twinkling navigation lights that one finds so hard to see during daylight hours. By midnight all wind had dropped off and the remainder of the passage was made quite anxiously at barely over a knot-and-a-half plus a knot of tide. I arrived safely back at the mooring at 0530, and I climbed straight to the bunk for a sound sleep.

Trip tally

42 hours on board, eight creeks visited

Distance – 74NM, plus wriggly bits

Passage A, to River Colne – 4 hours

Passage B, to Mistley, River Stour and exploring the environs, followed by night passage return – 25 hours non-stop sailing

Wharf wall near-scrapes –  Mistley and Newmill Creek

Ships dodged – two container vessels and a ferry in Harwich harbour

Three hours spent replacing stern navigation light, and two five-hour bouts of sleep

The centreplate was lifted 14 times for draught adjustment, with the rudder only needing five lifts. Two reefs were shaken out and put in, and I only anchored once.

Always remember if we tie a rope too tight we can always loosen it, and if you're out there things may go in your favour, if you're not you'll never know... Enjoy your cruising dear readers and I look forward to passing wakes on the water. Kind regards, Tony

Creek Sailing Talk at RYA conference

Photo from my creek sailing talk at RYA London & SE region racing and cruising conference in Maidstone, Kent on Sunday 24/02/18. A very enjoyable and informative event where I was able share some of the delights of small boat cruising in and around the Thames Estuary, make some new friends and catch up with old... 
I'm being asked to do more and more of these talks so if you'd like me to come along to your club or group do make contact. Best wishes for this year and good sailing to all, Tony

Winkler's Tales - Yantlet Creek

   Narration of a film taken in 2012 along Yantlet Creek in Kent, in 12' Essex-type punt 'Winkler'. Winkler, was home-built to the owners specification (one being she would be light enough to carry and lift over a farmer's five bar gate!) at a cost under 75 pounds, and some of her forays were documented in the fun little tome Winkler's Tales - Duck Punt Sail & Oar Exploring on Inland & Coastal Waters.

   

Creek Sailing talk at the Cruising Association HQ

It was a delight to share some of the joys creek sailing at, what can be described as a font of knowledge on the subject of boat cruising, Cruising Association House in London. The library alone holds over 10,000 books and charts dealing with the matter (cruising book heaven), and the CA now have over 6000 members who are able to share experiences.

Image: Preparing to speak at C A House. The two hour talk was Illustrated with beautiful photographs and I went on to deliver an overall picture on the subject of East Coast creek sailing: the vital statistics and key features of my miniature gaff cutter Shoal Waters - including a specimen voyage from my 2017 log - a most memorable voyage, and the how-to and practicalities of keeping a boat on a drying mooring along with the nuts and bolts of maintenance and related costs that small boat ownership entails.
  More talks are already in the pipeline and if you would like me to visit your club or group over the coming winter please make contact. Good sailing, Tony

Within Soundings 6 - Seamanship

Within Soundings 5 - Geedon Creek

Within Soundings 4 - St Lawrence Creek

Within Soundings 3 - Fingringhoe

Within Soundings 2 - Shoebury

Within Soundings - Ray Sand

Cruising lesser known haunts on the River Blackwater, Essex

As far as the weather was concerned, I’d seen better Junes than the one we had just experienced – and the longest day had come and gone all too soon for my liking. However, if the weather hadn’t seemed much like summer, the sailing had been pretty good, and I had made some decent trips up the coast to places like Mistley on the River Stour and down to the Thames, and had even circumnavigated one of Essex’s smallest built-upon marsh islands up the River Crouch at Stow Creek, a fair distance inland.
For those of us based on the East Coast, summer eventually arrived in July – and with it the prospect of some balmy days afloat on the River Blackwater in Essex, my home river which holds 64 named creeks (and many more which I have visited). The river has a wide and inviting entrance, and from Sales Point, the line of sunken barges used as a wave-break at the mouth of the river on the south side, over to Mersea Island on its northern edge, is approximately one-and-a-half miles long – and from there up to Maldon is a tad over 10 miles.

Saltings at Post Beach, Osea Island

With such a large expanse of water, the Blackwater provides some fantastic sailing. Anyone based somewhere between the top and bottom of all this water, as I am at my half-tide mud mooring in Goldhanger Creek, has numerous choices of what I call ‘destination areas’ for short cruises inside the river on either flood or ebb tides. If we take a look at low tide in the Blackwater, we find most of the places upriver of Osea Island dry. However, the deeper fleets at Mersea and Tollesbury hold water, and lower down the Goldhanger, Thirslet, Lawling and Bradwell creeks retain a little as well; but it’s the main fairway up to Osea that holds onto the largest body of water, and this is where boats generally head if their skippers want to stay afloat and continue sailing in the river as the tide recedes.
Now, as the crow flies, it takes 12 minutes and 800 footsteps from the roadside to reach my boat Shoal Waters on her mooring in the creek. A trivial fact perhaps, but I only know this as cars are not allowed into our club because we are sited on an organic strawberry farm (which produces the sweet but rare Little Scarlet variety). I use these minutes wisely when walking along the sea wall to get a feel for the conditions, and change or adapt a plan accordingly before I step on board.
One option for a short cruise on a flood tide is to a destination area a couple of miles upriver, west-north-west toward the salty town of Maldon, home to the largest fleet of active Thames sailing barges on the East Coast. If plenty of boats and people are your thing it’s a wonderful place to head for, arriving at Hythe Quay by high water with time for a relaxed sail back on the ebb, waving at a few smiling faces on the promenade and popping into a couple of small, remote creeks on the way – and still having enough water to get back on the mooring.

Another potential flood-tide cruise is the hop across the river (heading south) and into Lawling Creek, then on into Mayland or Mundon creeks – and with the wind anywhere but north, sailing back quite easily to the mooring over the last of the flood tide or the beginning of the ebb. Ebb-tide cruises are in the general direction of east-north-east toward Mersea or Bradwell; and, with prevailing south-westerlies, I’ve found that these invariably involve a lengthy interlude of beating back upriver, returning on the flood when the earliest I can get in the creek to my mooring is three hours before high water. Of course, skippers who sail without an engine must use the tide to their advantage – but that’s not to say we can’t and don’t sail over it when and where conditions allow.

Lovely small beaches
And that is just how I began a short cruise with the aim of visiting a few creeks, beaches and saltings, and circumnavigating Osea Island into the bargain. With a forecast of variable Force 3-4 becoming south-easterly 3-4 – and high water at 1230 – I raised the mainsail. It shook as I clambered forward and let us free from the mooring buoy, and once again we glided off to go cruising under sail. Sheeting in, the sail filled with wind and her nose came round a little more, enough to unfurl the jib
so it too filled. We sailed a straight, close-hauled course over the Stumble to Hulk Beach on Osea Island. ‘HMS Osea’, as it was once named, was used as a naval training base in the First World War and was defended in the Second World War, so it has numerous curiosities from the past lying around on its shores. With its manor house and smaller cottages it was once regarded as a centre for abstinence, but in recent times it has become an island retreat, with people coming to stay from all over the world.
There are some lovely small beaches, and even with the place becoming better known, solitude can still be found in the island’s margins – and Swallows and Amazons-style fun and adventure can be had. I ran Shoal Waters’ nose into the beach and stepped into the water. Beside us, a derelict post leaned wearily to one side. How soothing and cool the water was as the air temperature was 32°, the highest it had yet been all year.

Two black and red danger marks

Osea is a private island so I stayed well below the high water line and, making sure to not pull out the roots, gathered a handful of sea lavender to dress the cockpit of Shoal Waters and celebrate the arrival of summer. I browsed along the shore to reacquaint myself with this delightful little place then set off again, heading north-east. There are two black and red danger buoys in shallower water mid-river below Osea, plus the unlit green Goldhanger Spit buoy: I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried to find the latter coming down the creek at night! These buoys indicate two iron barges that were used as target practice by fighter planes in the Second World War, and most boats take the fairway on the south side of these, clear of the Marconi and Stone SC moorings. However, given enough water I prefer to take the shallower north side into Thirslet Creek to Thirslet Spit – a huge shoal in the middle of the river, marked by a green starboard buoy, that is revealed an hour or so after high tide. It is a trip hazard for yachts, but a playground for boats that can beach beside it for a wander around before entering the main river.

Ancient history 
I had a look in at Bulham Beach on the outside of Gore Saltings and picked some more sea lavender, and after a cuppa sailed over to the north of the two target buoys close to starboard – then I felt the breeze suddenly pick up. I freed off the main and jib, then unfurled the staysail. With the wind now gusting south-easterly Force 4 I turned toward Skinners Wick and one of Essex’s red hills, an interesting stop-off. Broad-reaching with a fair tide, we were there in a few minutes. I furled the headsails, dropped the main and, at 1345, hopped barefoot into 2ft of flowing water.
Mud squelched between my toes, and as I stood and pondered this piece of ancient history the pressing thought occurred to me that the tide was running: I had a job to keep Shoal Waters from grounding and cutting even shorter our short cruise! Red hills are a distinctive feature of the Essex coast and are thought to be up to 2,000 years old – ancient industrial waste sites formed over time by waterside communities that once resided here producing salt, then a very valuable commodity. These communities would have created piles of broken, discarded pottery vessels used for the boiling of seawater – and from this ancient salt-making industry, local creek and place names such as Saltcote and Salcott came about.

Author, literally standing on the site of an ancient Red Hill

The time was now 1400. With centreplate and rudder up I aimed Shoal Waters toward the middle of the river for deeper water, and thought we were off again. However, conditions have a habit of changing rather quickly on the Blackwater: with the afternoon came the sea breeze, and a strong gust pushed us back toward the red hill. I thought quickly and scandalised the main by lowering the gaff. I have a shackled tack so I can’t trice as quickly (this effectively folds the sail in half), and sailed over to deep enough water to get a bite with the keel and rudder. We soon neared Rolls Creek, a mud-filled inlet where we’ve spent many a night tucked away from a blow. As we closed towards its mouth the tide ran east, the wind blew from the south-east and our compass heading to enter it pointed north-east, necessitating a few moments of delicate boat handling as we gingerly entered the creek – and saw that the upper reach was unsurprisingly dry. I pushed down the tiller, swung back round and let the suck and pull of the tide take us out of the creek and downriver, past Old Mill Creek (which runs behind an island of saltings called Mill Point, and which had no water at all) and Mill Creek, also known locally as Mell Creek. On the east side of its entrance, this creek has one of many sandbars (demonic when invisible, treasure islands otherwise) that litter the shallow contour on this side of the river down to the Nass.
Being the largest, this one extends out into the river and is known locally for tripping up visitors unfamiliar with the underwater terrain here. There’s also a Second World War pillbox that was originally on the sea wall, but which has sunk into the sea due to erosion. In addition, there was once a pier where paddle steamers stopped to pick up day-trippers from Tollesbury’s former crab-and-winkle railway line that terminated here. Its remains are revealed at low-water Springs by two rows of cut-down wooden stumps: I like to anchor just below them as the spit gives shelter to a small boat.

Local landmark
Sailing on over the Nass, we proceeded into the deep green water at Mersea Quarters and up to Packing Shed Island, where oysters were once farmed. The whole island is awash with oyster shells, and at low water the large black shed towers above the creeks. This local landmark is maintained by the Packing Shed Trust, but in its late-19th-century heyday up to 60 fishermen worked here, sorting and packing oysters that were sent down to London or across the Channel to Europe. Oysters are still farmed in the surrounding creeks, and more than 1,000 boat owners keep their vessels in this attractive, charming spot.

Moving on, I hardened up again and pointed at the twin towers of the now closed and partially decommissioned Bradwell Nuclear Power Station to find open, shallow and smooth water. (The towers are still used by mariners near and far for navigation.) I anchored at 1640 in a depth of 4ft for dinner in the lee of the sea wall at Weymarks Creek, a small cut in the saltings. Low water was predicted at 1835 and the following high water at 0047 the next day. We were still afloat, just, and with the south-easterly wind becoming a lighter but more consistent Force 3, I was perfectly set up for one of my favourite excursions in the main river: an evening sail at low water with the sun setting and the wind eased, following the south side of the river on the edge of the mudflats at St Lawrence Bay.

Classic East Coast creek sailing in St Lawrence Creek

At 1925 I weighed anchor and began our short journey back upriver. I couldn’t resist sailing through Bradwell Creek which, from the tide pole, cuts inside of Pewet Island, a haven of wild seabirds. We enjoyed a majestic sail through the moorings, past the Bradwell Marina entrance and on, clear of the island, into a sharp turn where the creek becomes St Lawrence Creek – a low-water inlet where if a single shaft of sunlight cracks through an overcast sky, the mudflats revealed at half-tide burn like giant brown ovens. With the mainsail free, Shoal Waters slipped quietly along. Egrets fed on the tide lines, curlews called out in their unmistakable shrilling and a full moon appeared in the sky to the south-east as a big sun sank over to the northwest. This was East Coast creek sailing at its best, and with half the plate down I scraped the bottom two or three times before I gybed round to face north in this low-water idyll, entering the main river again at 2050. We gybed again to hug the shoreline for further blissful shoal-water sailing and made about 4 knots all the way up to reach Osea Island again, albeit on the south side this time, and anchored at 2210 in 5ft of water in a bay to the west of the pier.
With the second high water the following day being at 1313, I chose to dry out for the night in a position 100 yards from the beach in mud where I could get some sound sleep but still be afloat early (four hours before high water, 5.2m). However, as a rule I find soft sand about 60ft offshore here, with steep-to shingle on the shore so a boat can get close in and stay floating nearer high water.
By sticking to the main channel, boats with deeper draught can enjoy much of the low-water sailing on offer in the Blackwater, and many choose to anchor by Osea Pier and await the tide before moving on upriver to Heybridge or Maldon. With another hot, blue-sky day emerging, the wind backed east as I walked the boat inshore with the rising tide so I could have another refreshing swim. The river suddenly seemed to come alive with yachts, and two sailing barges that passed by were filled with passengers enjoying the setting.

Small yacht moored at Osea Island

After a sail over to Coopers Creek (due south of the Southey Creek port buoy), its saltings teeming with the vivid purple hues of wild sea lavender, I sailed round Osea’s West Point and over the causeway, a mile-long tidal road onto the island. I then sailed further along to the picturesque Shipwreck Beach for another dip. There is an underwater power cable here which is marked by a yellow post, but this blends into the background – so if you’re in a small boat without charts, you would do well to keep this in mind when anchoring. I then moved further east along the shoreline to Bawley Creek, Osea Island’s natural harbour, where the delightful if bizarrely-named Death Creek (also known as Deadman’s Creek) cuts through saltings round to East Point. What remains of this creek has 2-5ft depth: legend has it that it acquired its name back in the days of smuggling, after a group of men were found in a boat swinging to anchor with their throats cut. Charming!
With so much to do in a small boat on the Blackwater, I hadn’t noticed how quickly time had passed: and as I took a gentle sail back across the Stumble to my mooring at 1430, I contemplated cruising to many other haunts along the river on another hot and balmy summer day…

About The Author
Tony Smith sails the rivers and creeks of the Thames Estuary in a variety of dinghies, but for the most part can be found cruising in his 16ft 6in miniature wooden gaff cutter Shoal Waters, which he keeps on a drying mud mooring in a picturesque creek in the River Blackwater.


Further reading: learn more about cruising the River Blackwater and its 64 named creeks here


All images and text copyright Tony Smith

Gun Punt

Writings and images from an outing on the Dengie coast in 2012 with a good sailing friend, Mike Newport.

The River Blackwater is full of marshy places where you can get real close to nature, and where a punt comes into its own.
With their small cruisers tucked up on trailers, two Blackwater small boat sailors take to extreme 'rill' crawling in gun punt Marsh Duck.

Photos: Mono images add a certain vintage flavour to punting.

Practicing waterman skills in the punt.

  Photos are from a marvelous day's punting, topped by a sighting of a hen harrier, literally 20 feet away. The owl-like bird took to flight as we edged along Gunners Creek - a glorious sight. Many other ducks were resident in large flocks not seen in these numbers for some time. All were observed from the punt.

The punt is two inches under 16 feet long which makes the tiny ditches great fun poling through the tighter extremes of a bend.
We eventually reached the foot of Linnets little cottage garden.
The photos are quite historic in themselves being likely the first time in many decades a punt has been photographed on these marshes.

Negotiating tiny rills in Gunners Creek, Essex.

My punt in the pictures is named Marsh Duck and she is pretty typical in appearance of many Blackwater punts that were built at waterside locations such as Maldon, Heybridge, Tollesbury and Mersea, being an open punt.

Punts are also inherently part of the lore of our coast and as I couldn't harm animals or wildlife, use her only for shooting photographs and ditch crawling but they would have been used back in another world, now long gone, when the weekly food shop would have had to be pulled in off the marshes.
Some punters or 'sea-gunners' preferred decking with coamings, which gives them a little more protection from shipping water.

However, if you know what to look for punts can still be found... They peep pointed ends from behind wooden sheds. They lay in saltings waiting for a tide, or covered by tarps on edge against walls. Their painted battleship greys give clues to a common trait - stealthiness.

A few of them crowd front gardens or lay abandoned-like in corners of compounds lashed to trollies until the alarm call of high water sees them off down the lanes to the hards of Blackwater creeks where spritsails are often set for small-boat cruising adventure.

Other East Coast rivers produced punts and, to compare, another friend has a fully decked, almost kayak-like punt 22 feet in length which is absolutely huge in comparison to Marsh Duck, that was built in the fifties by a well known punt builder on the River Stour.

Punts were also used prolifically on the Norfolk Broads where today they appear perhaps a slightly lower profile and fuller beam and to be sailed as well as any dinghy.

South of the Thames I would have thought Kent had its punters too, being as there is an abundance of saltmarsh around, but to date I have not read anything about gun punting in the county or of a particular punt. Although it may be because I have not looked for any either...

On the saltings: As part of our homage to Walter Linnet it was only right that we produced a Creeksailor 2012 take on the classic 1939 Douglas Went photograph.

As an appendix, and to encourage further anyone to get out there and enjoy our green and pleasant land, I would add the marshes are a beautiful place to spend some time in solitude, clear the mind and cleanse the spirit, or simply wonder at the complex formation of miniature waterways - home of our varied coastal wildlife. And one doesn't need any form of boat to get there as they are easily accessible on foot.

Good rambling, punting or sailing, Tony



Note. Images 2 and 4 appear in my book, Winkler's Tales - Duck Punt Sail & Oar Exploring On Inland & Coastal Waters.

Seven derrieres of a Thames sailing barge...

  As barge hulls and maintenance go the old iron pots may have fared the ravages of time better than the wooden barges. But that's not to say the enthusiasm for wooden barges has waned. Far from it, the maintenance for both materials is constant and ongoing and a fair few i.e Cambria, Dawn and Thallatta have been completely restored in recent years and are sailing in as good-as-new condition today as they were a hundred or so years ago. However, with around 30 barges still actively sailing today, for the layman a barge can appear to look like every other barge.

 Below is a series of seven photos taken at a barge gathering in London's Docklands last summer.  It's clear to see from simply looking at one part a barge how much in fact barges differ. Everyone has there own preference and I will admit, of the seven in this selection, to being a fan of the broad, hollow and shapely transoms like wooden barge, Edme - built in 1898 by Cann in Harwich.
Edme is another wooden barge to undergo extensive restoration in recent years.

What's your transom?