Sunday, 19 May 2019
Creek Cruising Life
Sailed into a creek on an ebbing tide (presently big tides) and passed a motor cruiser sitting on marsh. Thought a little strange as it looked to be drying but thought perhaps they are staying there and can walk across marsh: viz rural creek with no-one around but the cackle of duck. Sail up and back down creek and see same boat being pulled off salting by heavy launch, and saw a flush of ramblers had appeared from nowhere, popcorned, nose ointmenting the boater's misfortune in an otherwise sleepy creek...
A few moments later, as I sailed on, the two boats motored off and ramblers, having eaten the last of their popcorn, went on their way. Creek back to silent again. Sailing, I saw someone else on sea wall walking toward that same area none-the-wiser of earlier creeky excitement...
Is there a message for us all in this type of creeky goings on? Well, I think there may be for in life timing is everything. A minute earlier and that person's presumably intended quiet stroll along the the lonely sea wall would have been quite different than planned.
And this simple scenario makes one think of the life that has gone before us along our watery wildernesses, which we can only wonder at, as we come across the old bones of a wreck buried deep in mud with just frames pointing through, as if grasping at life - perhaps a hundred year old barge hulk or a smack. Or soggy timber posts from a former farm quay, or marks of an ancient ford standing sentry; a Red Hill or Decoy... Who owned these things, who were the people using them in their daily lives, what were they like...
Historians give us some of the answers but many we can only guess at. One thing we can be sure of is life moves on and as much as I enjoy contemplating it, it is to live.
Labels:
Creek Cruising Life,
Cruising Notes
Friday, 6 July 2018
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
Sunday, 25 February 2018
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.
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.
Sunday, 5 November 2017
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.
Wednesday, 18 October 2017
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.
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.
Friday, 21 April 2017
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.
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Saltings at Post Beach, Osea Island |
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.
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Two black and red danger marks |
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.
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Author, literally standing on the site of an ancient Red Hill |
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.
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Classic East Coast creek sailing in St Lawrence Creek |
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.
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Small yacht moored at Osea Island |
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
Sunday, 29 January 2017
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?
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?
Thursday, 12 January 2017
Stolen Tarp
Upset to report Shoal Waters' tarp has been stolen.
This picture shows the tarp as it was before being stolen. Looks like a knife was used to cut every rope away from the trailer and probably within the last week or two.
It's light green in colour and approx 16' x 12' of heavy, duck canvas material with brass eyelets, and has the boat name painted in black on both sides. Being many years old the colour had faded a little and as they are very expensive to replace I had it overhauled of small rips and a fresh tin of fabsil applied only 18 months ago.
This picture shows the tarp as it was before being stolen. Looks like a knife was used to cut every rope away from the trailer and probably within the last week or two.
It's light green in colour and approx 16' x 12' of heavy, duck canvas material with brass eyelets, and has the boat name painted in black on both sides. Being many years old the colour had faded a little and as they are very expensive to replace I had it overhauled of small rips and a fresh tin of fabsil applied only 18 months ago.
Saturday, 7 January 2017
Land Yachting
As much as I long for those lazy, warm summer days afloat on board Shoal Waters during the midst of a cold winter, with her tucked away in hibernation, I also quite enjoy the winter time and being free to play around with my other little boats. This winter I've moved a couple of steps forward on a spot of land yachting I had been contemplating for my 12' punt, Winkler.
I didn't think too much about how I was going to go about adapting her other than I wanted to try and see if I could steer her as one does with a tiller. And, for wheels use the trolley wheels I already had and, in fashion with Winkler's initial build, do it at minimal cost... I'm pleased to be able to say I managed all the above with minimal effort and this time no cash outlay.
Initial land trials found life evolving around the rhythm of nature just as much it does with my cruising year in Shoal Waters. Without sail set Winkler rolled surprisingly free on urban tarmac, but it was a different matter altogether on the sticky Shoebury sands where tide tables are scanned in reverse for low water times and a force two fails miserably to move her more than a few inches...
After more trials I came to conclude that for land yachting one wants a very strong wind indeed, and lots of it, and a firmer packed surface... Then I must remember this is a Mk 1 version and things can be adapted or tweaked further... The fun continues!
Photos speak a thousand words so here's a couple of pics of Winkler adapted for land yachting (Mk 1 version). The tiller pivots up and down and, with regards the science of leverage, is probably not ideal, being the shorter lever, but it works well enough when Winkler is moving...
Good sailing, and land yachting, Tony
I didn't think too much about how I was going to go about adapting her other than I wanted to try and see if I could steer her as one does with a tiller. And, for wheels use the trolley wheels I already had and, in fashion with Winkler's initial build, do it at minimal cost... I'm pleased to be able to say I managed all the above with minimal effort and this time no cash outlay.
Initial land trials found life evolving around the rhythm of nature just as much it does with my cruising year in Shoal Waters. Without sail set Winkler rolled surprisingly free on urban tarmac, but it was a different matter altogether on the sticky Shoebury sands where tide tables are scanned in reverse for low water times and a force two fails miserably to move her more than a few inches...
After more trials I came to conclude that for land yachting one wants a very strong wind indeed, and lots of it, and a firmer packed surface... Then I must remember this is a Mk 1 version and things can be adapted or tweaked further... The fun continues!
Photos speak a thousand words so here's a couple of pics of Winkler adapted for land yachting (Mk 1 version). The tiller pivots up and down and, with regards the science of leverage, is probably not ideal, being the shorter lever, but it works well enough when Winkler is moving...
Good sailing, and land yachting, Tony
Wednesday, 21 December 2016
Creeksailor Xmas and New Year.
Wishing
all readers and viewers of the Creeksailor pages a wonderful Xmas and
New Year. Your patronage has been gratifying. May your pulpit be
steady, and full of joyous cheer...
Tony x
Ps. More cruising articles to come in the New Year: I'm coaxed away from the muddy creeks, and my miniature gaffer, to try big boat sailing around the gorgeous, rocky coast of Brittany...
Tony x
Ps. More cruising articles to come in the New Year: I'm coaxed away from the muddy creeks, and my miniature gaffer, to try big boat sailing around the gorgeous, rocky coast of Brittany...
Sunday, 6 November 2016
Yacht Sailing on Canals
Sailing a small yacht on inland canals and canalized rivers in the traditional
manner one would sail unhindered on an open sea isn't really possible due to their
inherently restrictive nature; the numerous low bridges and lock gates one
encounters and, as is the case in many areas, the huge proliferation of
overhanging trees there are to negotiate.
However,
despite the obstacles, these often overlooked waterways can present an interesting challenge to the normal cruising environment of the seafarer who’s
boat has a relatively shallow draft and a mast that can be easily raised and
lowered, and by simply adding a few additional pieces of kit, and obtaining any
relevant licenses to navigate there is a worthy amount of cruising under sail
to be had.
Most of the miles covered by boat inland are
shorter distances of the stop start kind and therefore the sea-sailor
contemplating a journey along a canal never having done so, and whose main
objective while cruising until now has been his yachts performance in
swallowing those oft choppy sea miles beating away at a leg of coastal passage, perhaps, like marmite spread over a favourite piece of toasted bread, he
or she will either love or hate it... I would rather the yachtsman did the
former so with this article my aim is to help him or her be better prepared for
what this type of cruising entails by sharing some of my experiences of canal
sailing undertaken in my own small yacht named Shoal Waters in and around my
own cruising area on England’s East Coast.
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Sailing on the Chelmer and Blackwater Navigation |
Equipment
Cruising sailors can often carry more kit on their
boats than they need so may already have the necessary equipment for inland
work. Now, I no longer use an engine but by all means if you do take yours
along in the knowledge it sits comfortingly in reserve. I promise you by covering the shortest
passage from A to B without it in what can be a challenging environment will be
gratifying.
I
should mention that as canals are a part of Shoal Waters’ cruising ground so
the kit listed below is part of her general cruising inventory used in the day
to day sailing I do and is carried all year round.
List
of useful kit carried on board Shoal Waters for a canal trip:
Bridgesail,
paddle, Norfolk Broads style quant pole, lock key, 60 foot length of rope with
a monkey’s fist knot tide in one end, mud weight, mooring hook, sounding cane,
and bucket with lid.
Oar/Paddle: Although we carry an oar as well I choose a
canoe-type paddle because it has a wider blade than a normal oar and its length
is about 4.5 foot, just right for the seated paddling position on the cockpit
coaming of my boat. The paddle comes into its own when maneuvering in and out
of a deep lock and has been the main form of propulsion on many a length of
cut.
Quant pole: Used from the cockpit or foredeck to
punt around in shallow areas and Shoal Waters has side decks specially built to
enable quanting, which I find is a most pleasant way to travel on any peaceful
stretch of still or slow moving water.
Lock key: Fits two sizes of paddle gates
however there are canals that require special lock keys which can be hired, or
on leaving a deposit can be borrowed.
60’ bow-hauling rope: For when all other options are closed and you still want to make progress, or
simply want to take to the towpath and physically tow the boat. This is done
with a slight lean forward in one's gait and the rope over one shoulder and
with the monkey’s fist comfortably held in hand. I use 8mm braided rope as it
is strong enough for the job and considering its length coils down to next to
nothing for stowing away in a locker. Bow-hauling is surprisingly easy to do and
I’ve hauled Shoal Waters for miles along a towpath.
For a session of
bow-hauling to run smoothly when single-handed I've found the secret is to lash the tiller
enough so the boat will steer away from the towpath while at the same time
remain in balance with the force of your pull. Additionally, I find with the
hauling rope attached further aft (straight to the foot of the mast) she holds
a superior parallel course than when run through the bow fairlead. If you have
the help of crew then it’s even easier and taking turns on the helm every half
hour or so is quite enjoyable way to stretch the legs.
The only snags with
bow-hauling are coming across unmaintained stretches of towpath where trees or
large sections of overgrown thorn bushes and the like come between you and the
water having taken route on the very edge of a path. Now, I’m all for
more green the merrier today but for good reason the towpath would have been
meticulously kept clear of any obstructions in the days of commercial trading.
And there has been an occasion when I politely had to inform a float fisherman
who begrudged moving his rod out of the way to allow me to pass that the
towpath he was sat on was put in place for exactly what I was doing, towing a
boat!
Mud
weight: Used on a canal in the same way they are on the Norfolk Broads, and
is rarely needed being so close to banks on either side. I use a 17lb fisherman type anchor at sea but
have found is to be excessive for the application on still water and once we
hooked into a shopping trolley.
Mooring
hook: For wild mooring alongside a clear towpath and has a sharp point one
end so it can be driven into the ground and a ring to tie up to on the other
end.
Length of garden cane for soundings: The
sounding cane needs no introduction other than to say without one I feel I have
a limb missing…
Bridgesail: perhaps my most important piece of kit for
inland canal sailing. A bridgesail is what its name implies,
a sail that is set to transport a vessel short distances between bridges. Ideally, and worth
one’s prudent consideration is how easy this sail will be to set up as it will
be put to use often in this environment. Any spare sail carried on board could be adapted for this
purpose, and however complicated the science of sailmaking may be, on one
occasion a friend and I had great fun taking turns standing on the bow of Shoal
Waters with our arms spread out holding our rain jackets open catching a
following wind. We covered some useful ground in this way and had a lot of fun
doing it.
However, if you plan on cruising for any real distance on a regular
basis, it may be worth sourcing something dedicated to this purpose like a
small dinghy mast with a sail, or a surfboard mast and sail, and keep it rolled
up on board ready to be put in use. For canal work I have two dual purpose
bridgesails. Shoal Waters’ canvas cockpit cover doubles as one and so does the
topsail which I use most often and when in use has to be tweaked like finely
tuning a violin to get the best out of it, and is kept permanently furled on
its bamboo yard and stored in the cabin.
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Evolution of a bridgesail... Stort Navigation |
On one waterway called the Stort
Navigation, which is 14 miles of canalized River Stort straddling the Essex and
Hertfordshire borders, an old photograph shows bridgesails were used by horse drawn barges and appear to be a simple spritsail, marginally bigger to
something like an optimist dinghy sail, set to ease the burden on a
tired horse. Whether being propelled by bridgesail, or towed by a horse, the pace
of movement along the canals before engines came along was like life back then
in general - slow, and that is just how the canals are enjoyed by leisure
boaters today.
Understanding this concept of a heavy, floating load being moved
by the power of such a meagre sail on still or hardly moving water helps to
settle one’s own expectations, if there are any which can, if need be, be
adjusted to enjoy fully this type of cruising environment and after first
launching your own boat into still water you will discover soon enough how
little effort is in fact needed to maintain movement, and that there are only
two speeds needed for enjoyable canal cruising: one being slow and the other
full stop!
Cruising
For me the relatively shorter start stop
distances encountered on these enamoured waters are the basis of what this type
of inland cruising is all about. As are being at ease in one’s own comfy vessel
absorbing new surroundings as they are slowly revealed on either bank. Memories
of oyster catchers calling ‘phweep-phweep’ as a salt wind thrashes into one’s
eyes soon become distant in urban canal areas and as we move on through rural levels beyond every hill and every new twist now are chirping
robins, sparrows and tits. Dividers and dead reckoning become redundant as the
sea-skipper manually works a way up or down through a succession of lock gates,
with all it entails: crisscrossing from bankside to bankside, opening paddles
and slackening mooring lines as a lock empties, or holding-fast as water rushes
in and one fills; catching a rare glimpses of kingfishers - that colourful
little bird the keen eye can take pleasure in watching dive low to banquet, or
coming alongside to clove hitch around a bollard before unclipping the forestay
by its quick release pelican hook and lowering down the mast until secure in
its crutch. Once again it’s time to cast off and, with a light shove and a hop
on deck, have gentle way and a soft ripple in one’s wake. A brown backed carp
breaks the surface near the overhanging branches on the opposite bank and suddenly there’s an almighty splash immediately followed by a swoosh of water as it
swims powerfully out of sight, and the little green yacht glides with ease
under another delightful, brick built, low-arched and charmingly ornate Victorian bridge…
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About to negotiate another delightful, brick-built, low-arched Victorian bridge |
There are also lengths of canal where quiet water has become home to the occasional shoal of gudgeon after falling into disuse, and a sunny day in the margins shows up the cover of one or two serious looking pike...
Let’s take a look at two of them in this corner of
England that can offer spirited sailing:
The 8.5 mile North Walsham and Dillham
Canal in Norfolk which had six working locks and watermills sited along its
length, two of these were bone mills once served by the iconic Norfolk wherry
with cargoes of offal. Two of its locks have been restored and a longer term
plan of work drawn up. Nevertheless with silted water, lush, green woodland
banks overgrown on the lower reaches where it falls into the River Ant, a hot
summer’s day cruising in such surroundings can resemble something more akin to
an Amazon jungle waterway and be an absolute joy to practice ones boating in…
In one trip on this canal in 2014 and using my garden cane for soundings I was
presented with an average of four feet depth here and being so choked with
overhanging branches found any breeze tended to funnel from either end of the
waterway and thus when a favourable aft wind came in could set Shoal Waters’
bridgesail, which I set from the tabernacle, to drive the boat and effortlessly
penetrate deep into north Norfolk farmland.
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North Walsham and Dilham Canal |
Another disused canal being brought back to life I’ve had the pleasure of sailing my punt Winkler on is The Thames and Medway Canal, a very small cut which quite recently built its own slipway to give access to boats once more, in northwest Kent, which originally went from Gravesend Basin to Strood Lock but now terminates at Higham and is slowly being cleared for use as a leisure waterway. The initial intention of the canal was to offer safer passage to barges carrying ordnance round the Ilse of Grain to Chatham, and later, by the time building began in 1800, to save journey time sailing from the River Thames round to the River Medway.
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Winkler: not quite a yacht, enjoying the great linear sailing to be had on this small canal |
The idea was full of good intention but with boats
having to wait for the tide to use the lock gates there was hardly any saving.
Add to this the coming of the railway in the 1840s and we can see how transport
of goods on the canal would soon fall out of favour. Even so, the service of
towing Thames sailing barges from Gravesend up to Dung wharf at Lower Higham to
offload a hold full of fetid London mixture continued until the 1930s.
While the trailer-sailor owner can take advantage of various launch slips that exist on inland canals there are navigations on the East Coast that not only offer exploratory sailing but are directly accessible from the sea. I keep my boat on the tidal River Blackwater and cruise locally and further afield rivers and creeks that indent this corner of North Sea, and only a couple of nautical miles sail away, at Heybridge, near the head of my local river is a sea lock which gives entrance to the Chelmer and Blackwater Navigation’s 14 miles of fresh inland water. This delightful waterway meanders through some of Essex’s most enchanting rural landscapes to the county town of Chelmsford and has a safe boating idyll feeling typical of many canals. And there are one or two longer lengths between bridges and locks where the yachtsman can raise his yacht's mainmast and sail gloriously through some truly picturesque countryside. The canal has an added bonus for skippers moored in tidal water who can take to their avenues of discovery and adventure for a late season cruise. Fresh water can save on elbow grease later on as it kills off barnacles… Building on the Chelmer began in 1793 and it was fully open by 1797 and would save the slow struggle of horses carting goods over Danbury Hill that had been unloaded from ships in the Blackwater, and transporting of commercial cargo carried on until 1972.
Further south of the estuary more options for inland cruising exist:
On the mighty London River, in Limehouse
Reach, yachts can enter into Limehouse Basin and venture onward into Limehouse
Cut and beyond, or immediately opposite the O2 Arena, in Bugsby’s Reach, take
that muddy and twisting tidal section of the old River Lea, known as Bow Creek,
from where Vikings once sailed 17 miles inland to the small Hertfordshire
malting town of Ware, and where the tidal Bow Locks are gateways to the smooth,
steel waters of the Lea Navigation (also known as Lee) and on pre-arrangement
with the lock keeper open up to give the sea boat access to sojourn deep into
the heart of England’s canal network.
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Near Bow flyover, on the Lea Navigation in East London |
There is one special Thames sailing barge
still to be seen sailing at annual Thames barge meetings. She’s Lady of the
Lea, a slightly smaller version of a spritsail barge that was built in 1931 to
fit under the bridges on this navigation and to carry explosives from gun
powder mills at Waltham Abbey, out through Bow locks and Bow Creek, and down
the Thames to Woolwich Arsenal. Her initial methods of propulsion were her
stumpy sailing rig and, when in the canal, she could be horse-drawn until she
was fitted with an engine in the 1940s.
It goes without saying there is mile after
mile of inland river cruising opportunity the further one ventures west on the
River Thames, past Teddington Lock. However, with our focus further east
there are other navigations worthy of note. In the Lower Thames there is access
to the River Medway Navigation in Kent, that which begins at the head of the
tidal River Medway at Allington Lock and is the doorway to this somewhat slower
pace of cruising through eleven locks, 22 bridges and 17.5 miles of England’s
rural garden county up to Tonbridge. And
further north is the freshwater navigation of the River Stour. Bordering
Suffolk and Essex, it passes through Constable Country and the world renowned
Flatford Mill. The Stour was cut off to boats from the sea by the building of a
dam in Cattawade Creek however, skippered by her former owner; the late Charles Stock,
Shoal Waters was the last known yacht to venture up to Flatford in 1969.
Other
notes and pointers for consideration when on inland waterways:
Check
with the IWA before navigating as licences are required for all vessels on most
inland waterways and can be purchased on a day, week, month or yearly basis.
Overhead electric cables are a real danger to
tall masts and one must maintain a watch for any that may be encountered.
Weils
Disease is a type of bacterial infection caused by contact with some farm
animals and rats urine in water, and can have very serious implications. It can be contracted through the eyes, mouth
and nose, and open cuts and abrasions where it is advisable to minimise contact
with stagnant water and avoid completely on open cuts and abrasions.
Carry an Ordnance Survey map of the area and,
if possible, a guide book or map which shows where cables are sited and the
average depth to the waterway you intend navigating on.
Nature’s course is not something you often read about or hear talked openly about and isn’t really a problem at sea, however inland is a different matter and a plan of action should be in place for when nature calls as public toilets are few. If there’s room on board a portable cassette toilet would be luxury. On the other hand, a bucket with a lid on and a bottle of chemical is a simple solution. Failing that, cross one’s fingers as boatyards with facilities do exist on inland waterways, and those giant supermarkets in or near towns are not just good for restocking supplies as they also have customer toilets…
And, as is the case with any type of inland waterway, after rainfall there will be an increased flow of water and on the Medway Navigation they offer a Strong Stream Advice service warning mariners when it is not safe to attempt to navigate.
All
in all there is ready access to some interesting and varied canalised waters
with rewards enough that await the intrepid sailor prepared to tackle them.
Enjoy your cruising, Tony Smith, gaff cutter Shoal Waters
Labels:
Constable Country,
Pocket Cruising
Friday, 4 November 2016
Creek Focus - Levington Creek
Entrance to the delightful Levington Creek in the River Orwell, Suffolk, lies on the northern bank of Long Reach 4 miles or so upriver from Harwich Harbour and the open coast of the North Sea.
At just under half a mile in overall length it has a mouth of approximately 250' wide which quickly narrows to half that as you meander in a north-westerly direction to follow its broad and subtly snaking contour.
Navigation charts indicate a depth of 2.5 to 3.5 meters above Chart Datum but in all practicality I find it has a small gut of around 5' deep (1.5m) on a high water neap tide which can be picked out with a sounding cane, with shallower margins abutted by mud and saltmarsh and, unlike much of the river, low, grassy seawalls. At high water the creek resembles a mill pond and the holding is as secure as a new baby is snug in a cradle after a bottle of warm milk: ie a sound sleep on good old soft mud is the order of the day.
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The head of Levington Creek resembles a mill pond and is typical of many creeks I visit |
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View of St Peters at night |
Just outside the village, to the west, is Broke Hall, once the home of Rear Admiral Phillip Bowes Vere Broke who commanded the celebrated HMS Shannon in the US-GB war of 1812. And, like many other creeks on this coast, there are one or two worn wooden stumps - likely remains from the days of sail when barges would have typically poked and pulled a way to a small rural farm wharf, like the one near the head of this type of creek, and collect corn and other farm produce to be taken to places like Ipswich six miles upriver or down the coast to London or, on return journeys, deliver horse muck from the city’s streets for use as fertilizer on the surrounding farm fields. Here at Levington it’s possible barges carried another cargo as well for during the early 18th century a local farmer was the first person to dig up coprolite from crag ground and found if spread on poor land the phosphate mineral acted as a kind of super fertilizer thus word spread and many fortunes were made when it became a sort after bulk material near and far.
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The beauty of Suffolk Sea-Country; all yours for the taking |
Friday, 21 October 2016
Sailing Essex Creeks
Stars were out and a lovely half-moon hung low glowing over the creek as I boarded Shoal Waters late on Tuesday night. Being harvest time I could hear tractors on nearby fields as farmers harvested away under headlamps. It's a wonderful sound, and sight - it's life, and its wheel is forever turning…
The cabin was down to 13 degrees when I slipped away under full mainsail on Wednesday morning at 0655 in lovely sunshine, albeit with a bracing chill - my hands felt warmer dipped in the sea! I noticed a couple of new arrivals in the creek; dinghies placed at the oyster layings. The oyster firm hasn't worked the line of trays in the creek for a couple of years now. I’ve seen a dredger work the creek for oysters, and sometimes I see someone gather oysters by hand, like some of the fishermen at Mersea do, uses shallow draft skiffs to reach anywhere in the river and hand pick a few sacksful for a morning's graft. It looks backbreaking work being bent over, and let’s hope they make a fare living as disease and one thing and another has played havoc on the stock in recent years this part of the country.
07.20 - We're charging downriver quite nicely under full main and jib. I swigged the jib and staysail halyards before leaving. With the Wykeham Martin furlers, too tight a halyard can cause the bearings to jam which isn't great if it happens when you want to shorten sail in a hurry!
09.00 - Heading S-g-E. Jibed while sounding over St Peter’s Flats. Pretty smooth out here in the Rays'n, and we're making good progress by keeping tight to the Targets in less than five feet of water while sailing over the remaining two hours of ebb. When the sun is shining and every wave top has a sparkle, going to sea alone and under sail has to be one of the best feelings in the world.
10.15 - Shoal Waters’ after-end wiggled to the set of tide when we anchored beside the Mid Ray buoy, got the kettle on the go and scrubbed boot-line free of last week’s moss. All much to the annoyance of a group of seals already comfortably seated up on the Buxey.
12.55 – Weighed anchor. Wind F3, and veering NE. The clouds have gathered and darkened to look quite menacing but a piercing sun lights the glitter every few moments ahead, as we move slowly south, over the sands.
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Ray Sand Swatchway |
13.35 - In Whitaker Channel, No 1 Outer Crouch - STB Buoy. Looking south, over and above the Maplins, the sky has fused with sea water to the extent it looks ‘other worldly’.
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Foulness Island seawall |
Much work is in progress in both Quay, and Devils Reach, shoring up sea walls on Foulness Island. Cranes are over on Wallasea Island as well. Two or three huts are now permanently on the seawall at Wallasea. Such a crying shame as it now spoils the unique low lying coast of this area, and the feeling one had escaped Man… That's progress, I guess..?
16.05 - Down Yokesfleet Creek and nosed into Shelford Creek to see the drop-dead gorgeous reddish-brown seals and pointed our bowsprit into the abruptly dammed New England Creek, which once exited uninterruptedly straight into the Thames Estuary, lined with gulls as always. Onward into Narrow Cuts where I had to harden up and sail close hauled, up against the sea wall. As if I needed it, I was reminded this creek is a battle every time! Lots of blue sky overhead now and birds are singing on the muds. Wind SE F3-4, with lulls.
Havengore Bridge is in sight now and I have a gut feeling I should abort the thought of a passage through to the Thames… The driving wind has dropped off to SE F2 and Shoal Waters won’t sail over a tide now, and to further thwart our advance any driving wind is on the nose. We’re running short of precious daytime as well.
17.15 - In Havengore Creek. I imagined the Bridgekeeper to be biting his nails for me in anticipation… Is this boat with the sails coming through or isn’t it? Unfortunately, until we reach the bridge we can never be sure which way the wind will be blowing and a number of attempts have had to be aborted due to it being funneled forcefully through the bridge piers onto our nose.
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Oxenham Creek, as viewed from Havengore Creek |
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Causeway road onto Rushley Island |
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Causeway road onto Potton Island in Potton Creek |
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Double reefed in the River Roach |
I jibed round, and doing so the plate sung and rudder creaked going over a mud-horse on the corner of the creek. She slowed to a near stop and not really wanting to stop here for the night I shuffled over a little, to keep in the deep of the fairway, and sailed on down the Roach toward darkness and a slant south, into The Violet, a stretch of water at the top end of Potton Creek where we anchored at 22.00 just above Barlinghall Creek entrance to be well placed for an advance up to Little Wakering in the morning. I set the riding light and sat in the cockpit in silence. Half the banks were lined by silver mud that reflected faintly the sparkle of a half-moon that shone above Barlinghall marshes.
There was stillness in the air tonight. Not like the howling and rattling through the rigging that went on throughout the night before. For now, this was perfect.
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Roach sunset |
The next morning I was up just after the birds and had breakfast and a cuppa. I shuddered when the radio forecaster mentioned westerlies up to Force 6. Any relaxed and pleasant creek-sailing to be had today in a civilized fashion would have to be done early, before the weather came in. Skies were blue and the sun low, just rising over Potton Island. I weighed anchor and shook out one reef in the mains'l as we slid passed the new Barlinghall red can buoy, and entered into the Barlinghall Creek proper.
Barling is such a sweet creek and immediately inside it one catches sight of the hamlet’s quaint church steeple which sits nicely as a bearing to aim for, and lower down is remarkably broad, not unlike part of Norfolk’s inland waterways. But then, unlike Norfolk and its medieval hand dug Broads, beneath the surface is mud deeper than I am tall, as sticky as glue, and formed by Mother Nature, and as much as it is marvelously wide it has deceptively shallow margins that simply revel in snaring an off-guard skipper besotted by the prospect of sailing it. And anyways, if you were to find yourself aground and stuck fast, there is no shame in admitting it, for as is often said, if you haven’t run aground on the East Coast you haven’t been anywhere! So I confess, I've been trapped here more than once, and still make the odd mistake as I have a short memory…
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In the margins at Barlinghall Creek |
Further skill is required of the creek-sailing skipper in the correct timing of when to sheet in on the new tack for while all this dynamic businesses is going on the force of the incoming tide is having an effect on the small yachts handling as well and so one is wise to not tack too late and see his yacht's stern brought round before him.
If you can imagine Barling Creek as a kind of horse shoe shape, or an upside down letter u, then when we come near to the middle of the u there are two lines of fishing boats and other craft to tack through. The wind direction was rather kind on this occasion being west-south-west and I could reach through into Little Wakering Creek. The saltings are sliced through with rills and home to one or two intriguing old boats while the cant face is a busy feeding and stop off place to small birds. I did look in to Fleethead Creek and for my troubles got stuck for a few moments because of it but then we came to the first and only major bend in our main focus, Little Wakering Creek, and began a succession of short tacks up to an old staging. There's a light airplane field behind the bushes here, and there was a house barge on the staging here for a time. It's a wonder to think the old Thames barges made their way up this small creek.
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Just coming into Little Wakering Creek |
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Anchored in strong winds at the mouth of Paglesham Creek |
We rocked and swung to anchor for what remained of the day. It was enough time to cook a filling meal in the ship’s steamer and read a little more, and then sailed gloriously into Paglesham Creek on the next incoming tide. The creek sailing that followed, even if only a few hours of perfectly idyllic sailing, was exceptional and reward enough for everything one does in preparation to belay it. The oyster layings in the creek are worked from an anchored raft in the Pool and the sight of a 6'x8' pitch roof garden shed sitting on it in mid-creek does raise a smile.
I stopped at saltings just inside the creek and stretched the legs and absorbed some of the stunning scenery of one of my favourite areas. I’ve heard people say ‘it’s boring here’, ‘there’s nothing there’, ‘it’s pretty bleak.’ That’s the whole point, thank you, I’ll have it all to myself!
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In smooth water, and the lee of muddy bank in Paglesham Pool. Oyster raft mid-creek and Burnham in the far distance |
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Wharf with pill box at Church Hall |
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Dusk, passing a floating oyster shed in Paglesham Creek |
I picked out the North Star overhead it was such a clear night, and I steered by it from the Whitaker Channel, crossing between the Ray and Buxey Sands.
To a degree I’d took a gamble at crossing the swatchway on a falling tide but I’d done the crossing with success dozens of times before and my reasoning was as long as I stay within 2hrs of high water, and not cut any corners, I should in all instances, get across safely. However, this time I daren’t sound the depth with my trusty stick as I couldn’t bear to confirm what I was already thinking; that we were in less than a few feet of water in wind that wailed deafeningly through the rigging and with threatening short chop crashing loudly against the side of the boat...
We crossed the shallow sands for 15 minutes... Suddenly, the old girl was on her beam end, rocking forward and back, and as the unsettled sea raced by flashes of moonlight that were so dazzling reflected off it and distracted from the urgency of the situation I was in. It dawned on me then we didn’t seem to be moving with it… I checked the sails with haste and could make out they were filled with wind. I realized she must be pivoting on the plate and we were, in fact, being pinned down by the force of the wind acting on the tide. Suddenly I was living my worst nightmare of grounding on the sands alone, in the dark and in a hellish sea-state.
I stabbed anxiously at the sand with the six foot cane only to confirm we were in an average two foot of water, with less on the bottom of troughs, and then almost swallowed my tongue in shock as waves began breaking on the weather side and I pictured the worst scenario of being broken up during the coming moments on the unforgiving, hard sand. Oh dear, maybe we are done for this time, I thought. I was puzzled somewhat as I hadn’t heard the usual warning sound from the centerplate, but then a Force 6 makes some racket and add to that I had a woolly hat on covering my ears, I reasoned. Whatever the case, there was no time for judge and jury so, instinctively, I released the rudder downhaul and hauled the plate fully up in such a hurried fashion five stone in weight of cold steel could have come flying out the casing into my bare hands.
Next, I threw myself into the companion way to grab hold of the paddle and began working it savagely over the lee rail in an attempt to move her along. To cross the sands should take no more than 20 minutes and our time was up. The North Ray buoy should be somewhere in an arc off the bow, to the north, but it was a hopeless case looking for it in this darkness. She stayed pointing north on the compass and I paddled for a good few more minutes and was relieved the cane appeared to be going deeper and deeper. It was only inches more water but sure evidence we were moving again and had cleared the shallowest point of the swatchway.
The short amount of time all this played out in felt like days yet was roughly only a few minutes window. Finally, when I knew we were completely clear of the sands, the relief was overwhelming. Our high adventure on low water wasn’t over yet though. I was starting to feel tired but it wasn’t safe to anchor as the wind was picking up even more, whipping the shallow sea into a cauldron, and I had to press on regardless. There’s a point of no return when one heads out to sea on a running tide and for Shoal Waters and I it was back near Shore Ends - long gone…
She thrashed along the Dengie coast throughout the night over-canvassed, every so often a spray of sea water rained down over the whole boat. I ducked down behind the cabin to avoid the stinging salt water and trimmed the sheets from there to keep us sailing off her one-reefed mainsail’s leach, and small jib set tight, until we reached an area a couple of miles offshore, east of St Peter’s Chaple, I call The Point.
There are times when it is safer to keep a boat moving than it is to anchor her still and this was one of them, and as we met the force of the ebb coming out of the Blackwater and pushed the tiller away for a turn west endured two further hours of arduous sailing against wind, and now a foul tide…
I made Bradwell Creek inside the Blackwater just after low water when, as so often is the case, the harsh wind had all but vanished to a distant memory. We arrived home a few hours later, at 0645. Good sailing adventure to all.
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