The Second Day Sailing Around Britain
Book Extract
I always think it’s important to establish routine when away from home but listening to the 05:20 shipping forecast is not one of my favourite rituals. This day the forecast suggested light winds with a strong westerly arriving ‘later’. If we truly had 12 hours before the south westerly gale, then we had a ‘weather window’ to reach Burnham-on-Crouch, approximately 50 nautical miles to the east. Neither the town of Erith nor Gravesend appeared to offer us a favourable place to await better weather so, after a brief ‘conference’ over a mug of breakfast tea, Phil and I decided to accept the less-than-ideal prospect of perhaps motor sailing for a significant portion of our passage. If the gale arrived earlier than forecast, we still had the possibility of diverting south to the safety of the Medway Estuary. However, at sea, seldom are things quite that simple. The entrance of the Medway at Sheerness has a tidal gate for small sailing yachts in that entry is only really possible at slack water or on the in-going flood. If Hobo were to ‘bolt’ for the safety of the Medway, our entry couldn’t be achieved until the afternoon.
From Erith out to the sea one passes under the QE II bridge and past Tilbury Docks and the quays of gloomily named Gravesend. The lower River Thames at this point east is grubby, lacking any of the niceties found west of London on the upper reaches above Chelsea. Soon the shoreline was all oil refineries and power stations. The long dead generations of valiant sailors, who had used the Thames to reach London, wouldn’t recognise this ancient waterway. So it was with little regret I left my home river and headed out into the greater Thames Estuary. The green channel buoy mysteriously named Ovens, on Gravesend Reach, marked the furthest point I had previously sailed. Prior to this day I had never sailed anywhere east or north of this point on the river. Consequently every port from Gravesend and north to Inverness and from there south to Plymouth was to be a new experience. Every harbour entry and every exit was to be a first time event. All my previous sailing experience in Britain was on the south coast between Plymouth and Brighton. So, as the greater estuary opened before me, it all appeared ‘a brave new world’.
Unfortunately, along with the new horizon came an old problem. An engine fault that had, a week before, shown itself outside Limehouse Marina recurred with greater effect. Off Southend-on-Sea, while benefiting from the last of the ebb tide, the engine revolutions began to fluctuate and fall. The boatspeed dropped from 6 knots to 3.2 knots and then to 2.7. Knowing we were only about half way to Burnham, this was worrying, but the brightening sky and still favourable tide led us to conclude that, as the wind freshened from the west, if worst came to the worst, we could sail before the breeze and still arrive at our destination. So, with the variable light breeze, we continued and, in time, headed northeast to seaward of the Maplin Sands. Soon a new problem materialised when all the yacht’s electrical instruments suddenly failed. A quick check below suggested to me that the main switch panel, complete with circuit breakers, was without power. After struggling to check the domestic battery – we carried two batteries, one for starting the engine and one for all the domestic electrical systems – buried far aft under the cockpit and cramped double berth, I realised the problem must be between the battery and switch panel. More investigation work revealed that there was a single primary fuse fitted before the breakers. This badly fitted item had slipped from its holder thereby causing all navigational instruments to fail. Clearly, this was something I needed to improve when, and if, we reached Burnham.
Burnham, while a fabled yachting town, is difficult to reach from all points lying to the south. First Maplin Sands merge into Foulness Sands, and a long sandbank spit serves as a further obstacle to craft. Approaching Burnham-on-Crouch from the Thames, sailors on passage are able to see the entrance, but they still have to sail on a further 8 nautical miles northeast to round Whitaker Beacon, before doubling back the 8 nautical miles to the southwest. Naturally, the normal tidal activity of the river adds to the challenge. During my passage planning I had failed to recognise just how much this would increase the time needed to reach Burnham. By 15:37 Hobo was bowling along before a freshening southwesterly wind and nearing Whitaker Beacon. Of course, wind that was fun to sail before was a challenge to beat against. On rounding the sand spit, we then spent the next three hours beating up the narrow channel against both wind and tide. As the strong winds for ‘later’ mentioned in the early morning shipping forecast arrived, we battled up the Crouch, facing rain squalls and rapidly failing light. It was a hard three hours and the town of Burnham was to welcome our arrival with their combined yacht club’s racing fleet charging at us through the mass of mooring buoys. What, to them, was an exhilarating couple of hours evening racing, for us, represented one last challenge after an eventful day. However, we still had one last drama to deal with. After battling the spring ebb and dodging the racing fleet, the problem engine again began to lose power. I was forced to ferry glide Hobo toward the entrance to Burnham Yacht Harbour, while wondering how quickly we might launch the anchor, if the engine failed before we got safely out of the tide. Luckily, and with a certain amount of skill, I glided Hobo through the entrance and straight into the first available pontoon berth. Once the boat was tidied, with sails flaked and under cover, I said a silent and private prayer of thanksgiving. The wind howled and the rain beat down hard. The ugly thought of not having achieved Burnham and having being blown back out into the north sea, with its sand banks, to spend a night facing the gale, was not something likely to help me sleep.
It had taken 13½ hours to complete the 54 nautical miles from Erith. During this passage I learned that I needed to spend more time on passage planning; the engine problem meant we could not safely enter a river against wind and tide; there were several aspects of the boat I needed to improve. None of this would surprise an experienced sailor but, for me, I was still very much learning about cruising. But then to be fair, this was only day two.
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Sailing Around Britain is written by Kim Sturgess. Kim Sturgess describes himself as a conservative ‘weekend’ sailor. He learned to sail at 24, had an RYA Day Skipper qualification and, before this trip, had logged about 5,800 nautical miles cruising, mostly in the sight of the coast. He had never before attempted a substantial voyage.