Urgh. It’s 06:30, a prompted by a lack of sleep I’ve left my bunk to immediately begin the urgent task of making coffee, much to the chagrin of Mr B – who was engaged in the vain pursuit of more sleep…
1st mystery of the day – did we imagine that bloody cat or was it real? Also – why do we have a giant plastic chess piece (A queen) in the cockpit? More to the point, what do we bloody do with it?!? After a brief, hungover spat, we agreed a lack of evidence is often the best defence. (It came with).
Mr B & his chess piece.
With a clear sky, & blazing sun we motored downriver whilst in an attempt at reconcilliation with a clearly tired Mr B, I made Bacon Rolls. We passed ‘Pandora III’ at Berney Arms & briefly conversed with them as to their week’s cruising .
Once through Yarmouth (tide nearly right – we had to push abit) I busied myself in cleaning the cabin. My ‘potion’ was to first scrub the cabin floor with meths/bleach (!) then to add a mix of meths/linseed oil to feed the lino. During this hive of activity – Mr B & the chess piece watched solemly.
Isn’t that better (!?)Fed up with cleaning!
Cleaning inside a Broads yacht is always an odd activity – there’s never enough room & I felt like I’d done 10 rounds wrestling! Thankfully we’d reached Acle Bridge – and could take some welcome respite.
We gathered our crew (Nina & Billy), then waited… and waited. One of our group was tacking downriver to meet us, although with the flood now well underway, it was slow-going. Eventually C arrived & after quick introductions we agreed our objective for the night should be ‘Womack Island’.
The light SW provided an easy reach up the Bure, past Oby Mill, with ‘Corsair’ occasionally sweeping round to stay in conversation-distance.
Late afternoon, we ghosted into Womack water, dropping our sails in the shadow of the tress, before briefly quanting onto a deserted island staithe. Idyllic bliss!
Idyllic bliss yes, but after sausage & mash (gravy made with no flour – grump!) en-masse, we approached some unsuspected tourists to rob them of their dinghy. Swiftly installed in said dinghy, we rowed round to the staithe & the King’s Arms…. (just for one!)
Our bewildered & patient neighbours…
n.b; Alas it would appear that the K/A has surrendered itself to a clientele with very different manners / tastes to us, so after 2 (we needed to check the 1st one) – we departed back to ‘Corsair’ for a night-cap. For reference, we had a 12ft dinghy – into which we managed to fit 5 adults!
Having managed to quietly get back with the dinghy & thank the still, frankly bewildered tourists, we had a quick night-cap, considered the day a success & retired.
Throughout 2011, I perfected the art of leaving ‘Corsair’ on a convenient mooring between sailing, rather than necessarily slogging back to Brundall each weekend.
Mostly – this worked well, I did occasionally take a ‘flexible’ view of the Broads Authority 24 hour moorings to facilitate this, but at this point of course I’m duty-bound to point out all fictitious references to that sort of thing should be treated as baseless rumour…
Anyway – the cruise for 2011 was to be a Northern rivers affair, especially as we’d covered a significant portion of the southern rivers in our ‘normal’ sailing having moved to Brundall.
Day 1
With news of the Reedham riverside beer festival ringing in my ears – ‘Corsair’ motored downstream in cool, calm conditions. Typically – we’d be gathering crew / boats today & tomorrow.
Meeting RCC S/N219 ‘Farthing’ moored up en-route – exchanging muted greetings across the river & above the engine noise (!). Maybe they were shouting? Who knows… Anyway. We moored just upstream of the BA hut on Reedham quay, to await the arrival of Binky on the 20:00 train.
Duly aboard – we agreed a quick dinner was the best approach, lets get at the beer!
There was however much consternation from Mr B – he’d not yet had the ‘pleasure’ of being upclose & personal with a primus stove… and I was still learning!
To be fair, the flames did die down… but he’s still twitchy from our last fire onboard. (another story!)
Before we could get ashore however, with shades of Michael Green… we’d found ourselves in possesion of a cat! Quite how the bloody thing got aboard is one mystery we’ll never resolve. The ‘shadow puppet’ theatre for the quay-side as the awning buckled/bulged/swayed to the tune of “bugger off! Come here, whose fucking cat is this anyway!?” Must have been popular.
Order restored, we swiftly walked to the Lord Nelson to calm our nerves…
The music festival – pre the Kazoo solo.
Much later, nerves calmed, we were ‘treated’ to some solo kazoo playing, from ‘The Harvs’ band. Wishing them great fortunes, we retired to the boat.
As I’d mentioned, 2011 saw us moving back onto the southern rivers, which arguably are much better for sailing – albeit maybe not as picturesque in some places as the northern rivers. The move for us really was a huge change in terms of sailing & the mooring.
Corsair – on the Yare 2011 (evidently a breezy day!)
Gone was the ankle soaking trudge through long grass, the tentative step to find the edge of the rond before stepping aboard, the wrist-popping strain of pushing a wheelbarrow to/from ‘Corsair’ at the beginning of each trip. Here, our new mooring was located behind an automated road barrier, we had dedicated rubbish bins, car-parking & all sorts of other modernity! There was however, an abundance of mud – ‘Corsair’ would sit high & dry for +/- 3 of LW.
All very ‘new’ as concepts to us, and it took some adjusting to learn how to manoeuvre the old girl in & out of such a tight spot. Frequently, there was abject fear witnessed at the helm of a gin palace as we snuck past them in the dyke under full sail, or treated them to a display of how quickly we could get the sails down (I’m a firm believer in sailing in/out of a mooring & you learn how to stop the boat quickly enough…)
Honestly, it was quite ridiculous – often we’d find ourselves subject to a water-level view of purpled faces, bristling moustaches & violently flare nostrils – accompanied with a tirade of bad language, and that was just the wifes!
Our mooring was in what’s now a highly developed part of Broadland, with literally 100’s of private vessels moving in/out each week. We were however the only lunatics determined to do that under sail, it upset the natural order of things (perceived) that gin palaces may have to follow the collision regulations, or have to wait for 30 seconds as you pinch out of the entrance trying to get some way on…
The dyke itself is Hobro’s dyke, linked to one of the early dredging contractors – James Hoborough, who utilised many a dead wherry in his work, before abandoning them in the wherry graveyards (more on that later).
An old wherry converted for dredging & the remains of ‘Uranus’ in the graveyard at Surlingham
Anyway – we’re here to talk about ‘Corsair’ not dredging or wherry graveyards… Our sailing had changed significantly too, suddenly we found ourselves with a programme of sailing regattas to attend – very different from gentile outings by ourselves. Not that we raced – usually I found myself running a start line or similar – given ‘Corsair’s’ history as an established YSC boat, it was fantastic to be back in the same waters.
Several things stand out from that particular season;
Firstly, ‘Corsair’ decided to sink herself, which wasn’t entirely helpful. Thankfully we were in a mud-berth so she couldn’t go far (always seek a shallow berth if you’ve a leaky boat!)
Originally built of sapele – an African mahogany ‘Corsair’ started her life varnished fully – and as age / repairs were undertaken like many yachts she’d been painted white. This usually becomes necessary where the planking is replaced partially, or with different timber to the original.
Certainly by the time I owned ‘Corsair’ there were only a handful of the original sapele planks left – new lengths had been scarfed in both above & below the waterline. Shortly after her venture onto the southern rivers – she popped a scarf under the waterline, inside the old toilet compartment.
Honestly, it’s one of those moments where I could barely disguise my anger toward her. I know, I do know its just a boat. However when you stretch yourself & your limited finances to their limits and beyond… something like this felt like a betrayal! I hurried across to discover the floorboards floating and the bilge pump flat. Bugger.
The source of leak turned out to be this scarf joint, which had been cut between two frames (not the best practice) – and my options to fix it were extremely limited. I hadn’t the money to slip ‘Corsair’, so how the hell was I going to fix this?
A few days later, just before we set off on our first weekend’s cruising, I managed to effect a robust but rough repair. I waited until low water, got nto the mud & at arms reach smeared liberal portions of ‘CT 1’ with a flat scraper into the now partially open scarf joint.
I then clambered back up into the cockpit, leaving a fetid black trail of unspeakable filth – where the process was repeated on the inside. Finally, a pre-shaped ‘prayer book’ was screwed into the plank from the inside. The screws actually protruded outside the hull once everything was tightened. Bollocks to tidying that thought, it’d only bother the fish & would wait until the winter.
In the end, the mess I’d made by first wading in the mud then getting aboard took me until about midnight to square everything away. Bucket after bucket of river water was doused around, I stank, the bilges stank, it was miserable.
However, rough, stupid or unskilled, that repair held for the season & enabled me to keep her in commission. I was still in a place where I hadn’t the luxury of anything other than basic maintenance or repairs. Keep the boat sailing was, and still is my mantra.
Secondly, the thunderstorm…‘Corsair’ is fitted with hopper windows, from 1961 when she transitioned into a yacht at Landamores in Wroxham (insert link) – with this type of opening, the glass stands vertically & falls back into a wooden holder, mounted on the inner face of the cabin side. The hoppers need to be well constructed & well drained.
Anyway, in late August 2011 saw the remains of Hurricane Irene displacing some pretty fundamental weather systems across the Atlantic, and quite typically – the YSC were out racing at Breydon regatta. That year we saw the foreboding side of Breydon – leaden skies & limpid water would suddenly whip up into a squall – and of course the rain.
So there we are – snug against the windward bank at Berney when rain of biblical proportions arrive. No build up, no warning just one hell of a BANG with the first thunderclap & then a deluge. It was pandemonium. Inside the cabin – every single window started gushing water onto the bunks.
The thunderstorm…
Receiving the gift of feedback from my then girlfriend – mattresses were flung onto the floors – and a tube of CT1 was recovered from the locker of many things and I threw myself at the task of rebuilding & resealing these poxy hoppers!!
Again – there wasn’t time to really think about doing this carefully, unscrew, slam some sealant round then screw back up – whallop the glass in, nail the final trim back in place and onto the next. If the cabin was damp before I’d started – removing all 8 panes of glass & dismantling the window hoppers made it abit like being inside a washing machine. I think part-way through we also had a row, just for fun.
8 times this was repeated – with the final screw going back into place just as the bloody rain stopped. Marvellous.
Motoring back upstream was mostly a silent affair, with further insult to injury being when another yacht required a tow for the last few miles back to our mooring. Something which we obliged naturally (again – my mantra always help someone as you never know when you’ll need the favour returned).
towing home.
All in all, that Sunday afternoon stands clear of everything else that summer sailing-wise…
Finally however, August B.H. weekend stands out, for all the wrong reasons;
‘Corsair’ had been whalloped by some gormless, feckless twerp in a hireboat, who hadn’t even stopped to leave a note. The bastards.
I’ll not bore you with the details which followed, except to say that they represented a long slog. The argument being that as she was moored up, ‘Corsair’ wasn’t at fault took an age to be accepted by the hire company. What followed was an eventual repair of the awning spreaders & a £100 contribution to my new awning (ultimately this cost me far more than I could afford, but we did eventually have a new awning).
You may think why this wasn’t conducted through the insurance company… well I couldn’t afford it could I? Hence the weeks of back & forth – carefully listening to the hire company explain how maybe I shouldn’t moor there, etc etc.
All the while sitting on the urge to punch the bastard on the nose & ask how I can get in/out of that dyke with no engine without hitting anything, so why couldn’t they with their 40hp engine & bow thrusters?
It was a hard lesson. Never trust people to do the right thing, and not everyone cherished ‘Corsair’ in the same way I did. Little did I know this wouldn’t be the last time I was in this position.
Thinking back – I can’t quantify how lucky I was, in terms of the friendship & support I enjoyed through the sailing fraternity – and there’s no better example than ‘Corsair’s’ 60th birthday weekend. I’m truly lucky in that respect.
As you’re aware, sadly I had started the weekend by leaving ‘TOG’ on Reedham Quay, her impellor was knackered & sadly the parts just wouldn’t arrive in time for her to race. So ‘Corsair’ headed to Somerleyton, complete with her birthday present from Joe & Julia; 36 pints of gorgeous local beer complete with our personalised pump clip!
Conditions weren’t ideal, this race is always a passage race from Somerleyton to Beccles, and sadly this year both wind & tide were set to be ‘foul’, strong SW & a prolonged ebb tide. Undeterred, we set off having prepared a nourishing breakfast of strong cider (just the thing for a crack racing team, all the America’s Cup lads do the same y’know!)
Sadly although our entry to the R.P race itself was stylish – having started stormed upriver in a strong breeze which saw ‘Corsair’ surging along, we had to retire at Burgh St. Peter, due to an increasing amount of water in the bilge – and it became apparent that the bilge pump wasn’t doing its job. Until that point though, she looked fantastic, and was powering upwind;
(later it turned out the battery was a dud. Dull to mention it, but for me it meant another big outlay, I remember the £80 for a new one dug me a little deeper into my overdraft)
Falling on our sword, we instead defaulted to party-mode – by the time we’d reached Beccles we know longer knew or cared that much about the race. The celebratory keg of beer proved a big hit, as the party grew so the waterline dropped lower & lower, eventually spilling people out onto neighbouring boats.
Our party continued upstream to Geldeston, and then for another 24 hours. I’ll admit that the log-book is ‘light’ on detail (!). I do remember an absolute champagne sail downstream from Beccles – that BH Monday. The tide was fair (even if the wind wasn’t). A friend managed some fantastic photographs of us just downstream of Beccles heading toward Aldeby stumps.
By using the quant through the more tree-lined section, you can cover a reasonable amount of distance that way even with just 1 person. Co-incidentally it’s alot less work than lugging the engine onto its bracket for a couple of reaches.
Using the quant, and every last puff of air – progress is certainly not quicker than the outboard, but it’s far more satisfying, giving you time to focus. Not to mention its incredible rewarding!
By late afternoon, we’d convened at Somerlyton again, and I realised what a perfect weekend it’d been. I was just doing what you should, celebrating an old boat in the sunshine with good friends.
Coming back to earth with a bump, the weekend finished with Joe & myself reassembling ‘TOG’s’ engine on Reedham quay, celebrating of course… with more beer!
It looked like the move onto the southern rivers was going to be a great success – ‘Corsair’ certainly seemed at home. Our season stretched ahead of us with a full calendar of regattas to enjoy.
2011 saw us winter at Upton again, with further repairs being made in an attempt to keep the port sidedeck waterproof (largely unsuccessful – in the long run) – but we were tucked up at the Northern end of the yard, in good company.
For this period we were ashore adjacent to a Woodbrige-builtcraft, a Ranzo 4 ½ tonner designed by William Maxwell Blake – built by Robertson’s yard. She was (is) a beautiful yacht, very different to anything local to the Broads, and both us owners could enjoy chatting away – avoiding real work.
However, 2011 was an anniversary year for ‘Corsair’ – I thought I would do all I could to make her look good. Her cabin sides had been stained last year (the eagle eyed amongst you will have spotted no chrome trim last year).
In fact – that wasn’t entirely an aesthetic choice – I was finding the financial implications of owning a wooden boat really tough. This photo from late 2010 shows myself & a girlfriend heading out to St. Benet’s abbey for the day (November, some beautiful sailing can be had in Autumn) – and you’ll spot where I rain out of masking tape applying the boot top that year!
November sailing – 2010 excuse the lack of boot top!
So, for 2011 I was determined to do better – I’m not sure I necessarily succeeded, but ‘Corsair’ did make it into the water fully painted, with a cove-line, and some more varnish on the cabin sides. Our launch caused a certain amount of concern – as ‘Corsair’ did her best to take in as much water as possible in the shortest time…
The night before I brought both boats south – I stayed on ‘TOG’ in the basin at Upton. Whilst during the winter often this is an exposed spot – by spring the trees are in leaf & it becomes a snug little mooring which if I’m honest, gives you the best seat in the house to have your dinner.
Open air dining
It was chilly, but you can’t beat being afloat – or eating in the open air (IMHO). But yes, back to ‘Corsair’
The extra attention that winter wasn’t in vain – I had plans! ‘Corsair’ was moving south to a new mooring on the southern rivers in Brundall, and was to celebrate her 60th birthday in style, competing in the ‘Ray Perryman’ race over the late May B.H.
The journey south wasn’t without ‘incident’ – it has to be said, having completed the winter work on both ‘Corsair’ & ‘TOG’ – I was expressly forbidden to exit the dyke with both vessels at the same time, by the then yard owner. Well… what can I say??!
Bit of a squeeze!
It was genuinely abit tight in a couple of places… we rubbed fenders twice with moored boats & then set off for our tidal window at Great Yarmouth.
Coming to the southern rivers, the ebb tends to run alot longer in the Bure than it will the Yare – so you can come down much later than you’d think & be guaranteed a good flood tide up Breydon. Today was no exception, as I turned at the yellow post, both craft found themselves whisked up the channel nicely, thank you very much…
Except. The exhaust note had changed from its usual tone, to one more redolent of a dirty phone call… ‘huffahuffahuffahuff’. Quick check over my shoulder. No water from the exhaust. Sod it! Shut down the engine pronto.
Leaping from boat to boat, whilst digging an outboard bracket out of the forepeak, putting it on, repeating that process twice for the engine & fueltank. Well I won’t bore you with the details, but needless to say I am confident I’ve set a world record. Both ‘TOG’ & ‘Corsair’ were gently pirouetting their way to the mudbanks – I had to move fast.
Some minutes later, with my 5hp outboard roaring its head off, we began the slog trek up Breydon. Phew. Wooden boats eh?
Phew. Well after a particularly long evening, the skipper can report his safe return to ‘Corsair’. Miss Jalil & I also managed to spend a pleasant night on relatively dry bunks!
I’m not sure of the details now, writing this 11 years later, but I can see that I’ve changed the crew names for today to “Binky, my faithful Binky, Wiggles & Pol-Pot” – no doubt they were testing my otherwise charming nature.
As it’s the last morning (or meal) – we dined on an ENORMOUS breakfast which for the others was on top of their own feast at the pub last night. But yes, last meal – usually ‘lob in’. Despite the sheltered nature of the staithe – we could tell it was bloody windy, another 3 reefs & storm jib job.
We quanted out, raised sail & blasted across Barton just once to feel the breeze. That dealt with we started on a passage which highlighted just how crap a sailing river the Ant can be! Initially we struggled with the tricks & schemes of the trees at Irstead.
Only then, we got clear of that bloody lot & found ourselves in a long tacking sessions whilst dodging a myriad of hire boats, and getting somewhat (ahem) frustrated in the process. Honestly I’ve never met so many retards.
Tacking the Ant…
Just downstream of How Hill, there followed 10 minutes of the most vicious, horrible sailing. We caught a ‘roger’ from the marshes, which ripped the mainsheet out of my hands. It took both hands & all my strength of the tiller to keep ‘Corsair’ from rounding up into the bank.
We spent then 10 long, scary minutes surfing down the Ant, huddled in the cockpit (it wasn’t safe to go forrad with the way the mast was bending) before luffing into a sheltered spot behind some trees.
n.b; trees are your friend on a day like this, I never say a bad word about them!
Sails lowered in record time, we put the outboard on & motored to Ludham Bridge. At which point… WHOOSH. Biblical rain! Everyone hid in the cabin, except me…
Ludham in the rain.
At this point, cold, fed up & being given the gift of feedback from Wiggles & Pol-Pot, we accepted the inevitable and motored back to Oby Dyke. To all our disbelief, the Land Rover started – so we drew our holiday to a close!
Falling gently asleep to multiple sirens from the emergency services was abit bizarre – seems a motorcyclist decided to leave the Stalham bypass at over 100mph last night…
Truth was, we soon found ourselves in a frenzy of activity ‘HB’ was being returned to her owners – both Jalil & Jacob were returning (reluctantly) to ‘Corsair’ & we needed more provisions…
So a high-speed motor to Stalham saw us victualled at Tesco, before we motored straight back to the Punt Club on Barton Broad, to sign in for 2 races.
That done, there was a little matter of a reunion to attend to, & I honestly can’t say absolutely the last time that 3 Chumley & Hawke clippers were rafted up – but it wasn’t an opportunity to be missed! Chronologically, we managed to get Clipper’s 4, 5 & 6 posed – sadly though no time for a photo!
We flurried back to Barton Turf, picked up Clover (another Jalil) – deposited Jacob & headed for the start line…
It’s clear we’re not going to trouble the ‘big boys’ anytime soon! Highlights included not loosing the rig (topping lift on a Nav post) & cutting inside a competitor at the buoy. We came a definitive last, but we also had fun – I mean you can’t get too competitive can you?
Post – race – we deposited crew at Barton Turf (again) – and headed to Gay’s staithe for some lunch. We carried 1st reef & out big jib – so enjoyed another cracking sail across the Broad. We even managed some screams from the feminine contingent (both Jalils).
On-route, we managed to bowl a fresh onion to ‘HB’ to save their dinner plans (this is no mean feat at 6 knots & a good angle of heel!) Also – pictured above are some typical scenes from Barton regatta – it forms a water-borne city for the weekend, through which we threaded (at speed) searching for a motor boat to deliver an onion. Madness.
I’m proud (pissed?) to say that in time-honoured fashion, we then found ourselves in a pub, and is often the way with Broads sailing we subsequently missed out start at 4pm & ended up staggering back to the boat quite ‘merry’…
After a whistlestop lesson in how to operate the Tilley lamp, I left to maintain a dinner engagement leaving them all ‘to it’. Christ knows what I’ll come back to…
A reasonably dry night surprised us all at Coltishall, 4 drips overall we reckon can be considered reasonably dry!
We motored in the rain (surprise!) downstream to Wroxham, taking the shortcut through Bridge Broad. This is a stretch of the navigation which can be overlooked – did you know there’s an Alpine landscape next to the river?
At Wroxham, some replacement waterproof trousers were needed (don’t ask) – an unfortunately due to a stocking issue, the entire crew of ‘Corsair’ can now wear these poxy trousers at the same time!!
Given the now torrential rain, we all clambered aboard ‘HB’ & found ourselves moved quite briskly downriver to Horning, ready to make sail again (after all, this is a sailing boat – Skipper’s grumble).
Maybe it was an omen, but we found ourselves in the sunshine (for the 2nd time that week, AND with a favourable breeze it felt like maybe it could be an actual holiday! This was Jacob’s 1st venture into yachting, so typically we launched ourselves straight into the path of an oncoming wherry (Albion)!
At the mouth of the Ant, we cut short our yachting & joined the procession of jolly sailor types heading from Barton Open Regatta. En-route we passed the film crew of ‘Jam Today’ again – and by How Hill we’d set 1st reef & middle jib for some more yachting.
Out on Barton we were glad of the reef – storming about adjacent to ‘HB’ – causing chaos in the cabin,
Energetic sailing doesn’t pay!
although we did get some spectacular photo’s of the old girl. Our antics were carefully watched by ‘Jenny’ – a fully reefed hire boat from Martham who disapproved.
Eventually, ‘HB’ towed us to Sutton Staithe, where we moored in the rain (how familiar) & spent the evening BBQ’ing… after all we are on holiday!
We survived. A bland & mediocre offering but nonetheless sufficient. Much like rationing.
It is strange to start a day’s log talking about events that happened yesterday however some things are worthy of note… as ‘Vintage Broadsman’ appeared on Salhouse Broad last night, blasting out a cheesy disco soundtrack, it was promptly drowned out by the Mozart from HB’s sound-system. How proper.
We can also report that the ‘Fur & Feathers’ is still a fine establishment serving much tasty ale… In fact the only fly in the ointment is that there was a troupe of Morris dancers outside who asked for requests; apparently ‘piss off’ wasn’t the correct answer. So we left swiftly after clearing that misunderstanding up!
Evening at Salhouse
Besides ensuring that we stayed until we had used all of our £6 mooring fee, there was little available to keep us at Salhouse so we headed for Wroxham amid more rain (lovely!) – in fact it was so unpleasant that we lowered the mast & motored the whole way as quickly as possible.
Wroxham itself had a variety of temptation to offer us, mostly fish & chips, some overly large waterproof trousers and an exceedingly flamboyant umbrella for the skipper. Also, there was a whistle-stop tour of Roy’s food department.
The world’s largest trousers…
And, for no reason at all, its worth nothing that when you throw the mudweight overboard, ALWAYS check if it is on a short line, and whether or not it’s only on a small cleat with short screws… I mention this for no reason.
Post fish & chips, we departed the moorings & motored under Hoveton viaduct toward Belaugh. Despite HB taking a shortcut through bridge broad – ‘Corsair’ maintained the lead.
It was the 1st time ‘Corsair’ had been to Coltishall in my ownership & despite the weather (torrential rain) the navigation was very pretty. I saw a Kingfisher & several shoals of fish in the very clear water.
I might add, those weren’t the only highlights of the trip. ‘HB’ had the sliding roof open going through Wroxham bridge, soaking the Judas aboard… Sadly it was nothing to the sogginess of ‘Corsair’ – the awning was laid over the cabin, the umbrella was up… not a jot of bloody difference it made!
We spotted the ‘Death & Glory’ and ‘Troutbridge’ moored at Belaugh. No loveable Lesley however.
Much later, we found ourselves at Coltishall with the Tilley lamp valiantly drying out the contents of our cabin, with our new crew member languishing aboard ‘HB’ in the saloon. Weakness of character if you ask me!
Today we started lazily if I’m honest, the Skipper began with attempting to steal a TE20 tractor from the boatyard & in a fit of benevolance we offered the crew of a ‘Leander’ to moor alongside us so they could access the freshwater hose.
It was quite strange really to compare the 2, considering that ‘Corsair’ came from the same yard – they really are completely different!
Our C&H ‘sister’; freshly re-watered.
(This was years before I understood the role A.L. Braithwaite had with the clippers – versus the reality of Alfred Yaxley from Belaugh, the postwar foreman of Chumley&Hawke who did however build ‘Corsair’ with Tim Whelpton, albeit with an extra plank)
Anyway, in a strange reversal of our now familiar daily routine, we took all reefs out – bunged the big jib on (!) & set full rig after 4 days!! We soon departed & headed for a wild-mooring opposite St. Benet’s abbey to perform housework. (Binky cleaned the cabin windows)
Enjoying full-rig, we set off again & navigated onto South Walsham Broad where we sailed well into the inner broad, circumnavigated the island & spotted RCC S/N70 ‘Don’ at mudweight. Coming out of Fleet Dyke, we engaged in some informal racing with a Devon yawl, with Mr Jalil proving himself quite competitive (surprising)
S/N70 ‘Don’ & assembled fleet!
HB was spotted on the St Benet’s moorings, where Theo promptly (and quite literally) jumped ship. The prospect of a warm & dry berth proving too tempting for his weak-willed traitorous ways!
Despite this treachery Binky & I enjoyed the gentle tack upto Ranworth, where to be fair ‘HB’ did tow us onto Malthouse broad, where we mudweighted close to the wherry ‘Albion’ where we then all unwisely leapt into a tiny dinghy for the passage to the Maltsers P.H.
The tack to Ranworth.
(At this point, a certain Judas displayed all the grace of a baby rhino on acid to get in/out of the said dinghy, nearly tipping us all in!)
After a reasonably boozy lunch, we motored upriver to the surprisingly expensive Salhouse Broad for the night. D is cooking, only tomorrow will tell if we survive…
A Broadsman 