irstead – A Broadsman

Day 6.

Well, having spent an enjoyable night in the White Horse, today we were forced to make a particularly early run from Upton to Ludham Bridge. I helmed, whilst cowering behind the awning as it pelted with rain. The engineer & first mate were quite sensible, they stayed in bed!! (Swines).

We had big plans for the lunchtime, as after motoring to Irstead we were due to start our illustrious racing career. Alas, it was definitely memorable (!), but for all the wrong reasons!!

First race, we rigged and got onto the Broad in perfect conditions. We ‘jockeyed’ around in the fleet, until we spied the red flag. No life-jackets onboard meant we were forced to abandon, before we’d even started! Heyho…

At this juncture, CD & JW appears on ‘MH’, and things did become slightly ‘hazy’…

There was an equally abortive evening race, which saw ‘Corsair’ start (quite well), and round some of the course when our bowsprit suffered a mischief. The bobstay (stainless steel wire) snapped cleanly at one end (and it was a flat calm, look at the photos!!). Although a temporary stay was rigged, we returned to Gay’s Staithe.

Rigging a new bowsprit was ‘interesting’ – we went for chain. It was rigged using a variety of the crew in various positions, all trying to bend the bowsprit into the right place, and get the chain to stretch! Eventually we used a nearby Tinker Tramp inflatable dinghy. After an hour and a half, it was fitted.

The evening race…
‘Engineering’
It fits!

One BBQ, one bottle of Jägermeister (!), one of vodka, one of gin, eight strongbow and twelve kronenburg later, we’d made friends with most people we saw, several trees and at least one puppy.

Finally, at the midnight hour, whilst roaring drunk, we motored out into Barton Broad, where we set-off the remains of our fireworks. These fitted nicely into the ensign staff of ‘Corsair’, whooshing up into the sky, only inches above the outboard and petrol tank. (!!!)

The effects were quite spectacular. At Barton regatta, all competitors mudweight on the broad, staying on their boats for 72 hours, in a series of large rafted up enclaves. Imagine. It’s midnight. Most are asleep, many of the boats have their families aboard.

BOOOOM! WHIZZZZZZZ! BOOM! BANG! KABOOM!

Judging by the plethora of lights that started coming on in boats, and the shouting that followed, our fellow sailors were just as impressed as us with the fireworks. Navigation lights doused, we fled.

(n.b; We were young, stupid, drunk and stupid. I would not EVER repeat this)

Eventually we retired at 2am, it had been a loud and enjoyable evening.

Goodnight.

Our route.
The bobstay breaks!

Day 7.

Today started reasonably slowly… mostly due to the industrial sized hangovers we suffered from.

A quick motor to Stalham however saw us re-stocked with food, and a general consensus was reached that racing was a very bad idea. Plus it was raining and ‘orrible.

So instead, we ate restorative bacon sandwiches and decided that we would head to Salhouse Broad. Motoring down the Ant, we avoided the melee, and stopped in Horning for the most civilised practice (after last nights behaviour!) for an ice cream.

Horning to Salhouse was covered by sail, as by then most of us had recovered from the night before. Most enjoyable it was too! We gently tacked up the Bure, and drifted onto Salhouse Broad for a quiet sail on the last of the zepher like breeze available to us.