I've made my mind up that I'm going to be doing some sailing this year, having spent most of the last year trying to remember what it's like. But I've probably said that every year....
Anyway, the weather looked OK, so I made a decision (I do that now and again!) and threw as much gear into the car as I thought I'd need and headed for Saltfleet. I'd sleep on the boat, then finish off connecting up the outboard cables in the morning (I'd dropped the engine back into the boat on a previous visit) before heading into the North Sea for the day.
It was dark before I reached the moorings, so most of the gear was left in the car, just took the food and sleeping bag with me onboard - there was enough junk lying around in the cabin from previous visits anyway.
Too early to sleep yet, I settled down with a book for an hour or so before turning in early, I wanted an early start as the plan was to be off the mooring by 7am.
I dropped off pretty quickly as I usually do, but not for long.....
At midnight I was jumping up, banging my head on things and generally trying to work out where the hell I was and what the **** that noise was! I remembered wasn't at home, so gave up trying to turn the bedside lamp on.
I eventually worked out I was on the boat, and that the noise was an alarm clock. But I hadn't set one. And it was pitch black outside!
I found the clock and fumbled with the buttons until the shrieking stopped.
It was the clock which lives permanently onboard, and had been set for midnight - obviously by accident. The thing is, it must have been going off at midnight every night for months! Good job it's very rare anyone else sleeps onboard at Saltfleet... I could have been public enemy No1 by now.
It took me a while in half-asleep mode to work out how to switch the alarm off completely, but having done so I settled back down to sleep. At least I tried to.
Dozing and waking for the next couple of hours wasn't what I'd planned. It even got chilly enough that I had to find some extra clothes and wriggle into them before eventually dropping off until daylight disturbed the already disturbed slumber.
At least it was over !
The outboard cables connected, the gear from the car collected (almost poetry there!), I was ready to go.
I set up the netbook, and plugged in the GPS mouse. I wanted to get a track of the channel on the way out. By the time I'd set it up the "Low Battery" signal was flashing at me, 10 minutes power remaining. So that got put away...... New battery on the shopping list.
I'd seen Commodore Billy getting the inflatable out and had a quick word, he was going to be putting some channel markers out. With a bit of luck I'd be able to find my way back in...
With the mooring lines let go, the boat turned around easily in the channel with a gentle push (unlike the last epic adventure!), but as I put the engine in gear it gave a "Swoosh" and a cloud of steam surrounded it! It cleared as quickly as it appeared, and after checking the tell-tale was OK all seemed well and I was off. Probably a bit of crap in the system causing a temporary blockage, I nervously checked the stream of water coming out of the engine every few seconds.
The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze from the N/W and I pulled the sail up for the first time this year. Due to an unforseen meeting with the beach last year, I didn't dare try to sail out and the engine was left running until I was well out over the bar...
A quick word with Billy, still busy with an inflatable full of marker buoys, and I realised I'd have to make up my mind which direction to head in.
Directly to the north of the Saltfleet channel is Donna Nook bombing range, this is a good place not to be. The RAF and the USA forces use real bombs and bullets there. I decided to skirt the range, hoping for some close-up (but not too close) action. The VHF broke into life a little later and the range was declared "Open" at around 9.30am.
I carried on, mercifully without any need for the engine, towards the far corner of the range. The wind had picked up enough for me to reef the sail a little, just enough to stop the gusts from causing my chart to slide off the cockpit seat...
I reached No4, the buoy marking the corner of the range, but hadn't seen any military hardware, the only pic I got was this one!
From here I headed a little further south and away from land, I thought I'd pay a visit to another Buoy - "Protector" which marks the Protector overfalls, something like 7 miles offshore and less than 3 metres deep at low water.
It was a leg of a little over 4 miles, and during the hour I'd expected to take, the wind dropped, then dropped some more. By the time I'd reached the buoy it was down to a gentle breeze, it had taken almost 2 hours, partly because the tide was starting to ebb northwards.
As it was the second highlight of the trip, I took another pic....
From here I set course back towards the coast, now barely visible. I set a waypoint on the fixed GPS to take me to Theddlethorpe, south of Saltfleet, and set course.
The wind had dropped even more now, with barely enough to sail. The sloppy sea was rolling the boat as it was coming beam-on, and the sail swung about and the boom regularly hit the mast harder than I liked. I dug out a spare line and rigged a preventer which ran from the end of the boom, forward around the pulpit stanchion, then back to the cockpit. It did the job and held the sail square to the line of the boat, meaning I didn't have to keep ducking to save myself from strangulation from the sheet as it kept crossing the cockpit!
As I gently eased towards the coast I noticed that the compass heading and the GPS track didn't quite agree, they differed by around 90 degrees! I was making about 1 knot forwards, but the tide was taking me sideways at a faster rate than that. It soon became clear that I'd be visiting Theddlethorpe another day.
After a couple of hours, trying to sail as far south as possible, I was heading for the bombing range to the north of Saltfleet! As I'd heard them close the range earlier on the VHF I wasn't too worried. However far north I ended up, I'd be pushed back south once the tide turned - all I had to do was to keep heading for the beach.
As I entered the bombing range there was a splash behind the boat, not a bomb, but probably a seal I thought. A little later I saw a small black shape break the surface for a second, but not quite seal-like. As I watched it did it again, and this time I could see a fin on it's back - it was a Porpoise! Half an hour later I had the same sight again, this time in front of the boat, could have been the same one, could have been another, but great to see either way.
After getting as close to the beach as I felt comfortable with, I tacked and headed back out to sea. The wind had picked up bit by now, and the preventer had been removed.
I could make out the wreck which marked the entrance to the Saltfleet channel, and with the binoculars could pick out a couple of "Billy's buoys".
I'd planned to head back in around 7pm, it was still only 5.30 as I reached the channel entrance after tacking again. As the conditions were fairly benign, I decided to "feel" my way in, after all, I was only going to find out the limits of the channel by pushing them!
As I neared the wreck I felt the "bump, bump, bump" then came to a halt....
I dropped the anchor to hold my position until the rising tide did it's work, and dropped the sail. Within a few minutes the bumping had stopped. A few minutes later I started the engine and pulled the anchor up.
I headed back out a little in order to line up properly with the channel markers before gently edging in past the wreck, not getting much further before the "bump, bump, bump, stop"!
I spent the next hour "bumping and stopping" my way up the channel, taking the chance to do a bit of cleaning and tidying around the boat.
Eventually the bumping stopped altogether and I started the engine, gently cruising up the channel to the moorings, tying up with an unusual lack of drama at around 7pm - the time I'd planned in the first place!
At least I now know the height of tide I need to get into the river....
