Our 2013 ‘season’, if you can call it that came to a dramatic conclusion in that December.
On the evening of 5th December, with shades of the 1953 floods, the weather turned nasty. Strong winds, high tides, & a large volume of rain water in the rivers could mean only one thing. We were in for a trying time – and it’d be bloody damp.
If you’re interested – you can read here about the metrological conditions which caused the surge; https://www.metoffice.gov.uk/binaries/content/assets/metofficegovuk/pdf/weather/learn-about/uk-past-events/interesting/2013/winter-storms-december-2013-to-january-2014—met-office.pdf
To give you a clue of why this storm surge was significant, like many other river cruiser owners, my year is dictated by the various events/fixtures which we attend. Now, for reasons to numerous to mention – my sailing club runs a race in December, where you race for a Christmas Turkey. Something which is more fun than it sounds. (although as I write this, I’m less than a fortnight away from the Turkey Race, and it’s 3 degrees outside / pouring with rain… I do wonder about my choices sometime!)
Anyway, 2013. Through the week, with the weather looking so atrocious – with each updated forecast, the commitee of the club devised alternative plans. Ultimately though we agreed (reluctantly) that we’d be bringing at least 3 boats to race – no matter what the weather. (gulp).
So on the Friday afternoon, I’d packed a bag – and sat at my desk looking at the frozen rain thundering against the office window. Yet again I could see an ‘interesting’ time ahead. By 6pm – it was pitch black, and the river was already 2ft higher than it ought to be. Oh & it was blowing a genuine f8 by this time. Deepest joy.
Slowly, we crept down the road to our mooring – at times having an old Land Rover is a real bonus! The water sloshed around inside, meaning we were now wading in at least 3ft of water. In driving rain, we carefully found the edge of the jetty, untied our mooring lines & crept out into the main river.
River, what river? Thank goodness for a roof-mounted search light. We motored gingerly up the Yare, all our usual landmarks gone. You couldn’t see the edges, there was no real boundary between land & water – all we could do was follow our noses & try not to get frostbite. Sadly, as our searchlight featured a genuinely antique, battery-flattening bulb – all we could do was use it sparingly when we thought we’d hit something.
Eventually, ‘Corsair’ reached Surlingham Ferry – we had to find the edge of the moorings using the quant as a depth sounder (falling in would have been a bad idea!) – and again, we tied up on underwater mooring posts, stuck our quant in to stop her over-riding the bank, and waded to the pub.
It was closed!! Thankfully we managed to persuade S the landlady we were thirsty & hungry – and very kindly she openedup – providing us with warming food & beer. I’d never seen the river this high – it was upto the front door!
Typically, being in a warm pub helps change your perspective on any situation, I can’t say I’d forgotten the freezing rain or the savage gusts. Ultimately though the boat was safe, as was I… and we’d see what tomorrow would bring.
Elsewhere – the high water levels had played havoc with the yachts who’d wanted to attend. Bridges were un-navigable, as were large sections of road. We counted our blessings & went sailing for a short, but cold race.
Sadly – ‘Corsair’ suffered a gear failure whilst sailing – another sign of her increasing issues / lack of care I was able to show.
Being as objective as I can, every year I lay up the boat. Each season starts/finishes with the same rituals, it’s methodical. You de-rig, sails are folded, lofts are crammed with gear & eventually the vessel is tucked up under her cover & you get some respite for a few weekends at least…
In 2013 however, it all had a knell of finality about it. I’d gained a whalloping overdraft – ‘Corsair’ was sailed to her winter storage on a blowly, cold day (December 28th) – and I was genuinely sad. I didn’t see a way I could commission her for the following year. With that over-arching thought, once de-rigged & left ready for the crane, I slammed the L/R door & drove home.
It was 4 years before she sailed again.
A Broadsman 