Light rain (seeing a pattern here?) removed the chance of a decent view at the top of the capanile , although this didn’t deter us all from climbing the stairs to ‘admire’ the dank, grey landscape (24th August!).
An old hand had joined us, & was found to remark that somehow I always managed to get people on holiday, in the rain. (the clever b&^%ard). After breaking down the tents, we swiftly tidied up after ourselves & thought no more of it, as we set off in the blazing sun heading back toward St Benet’s.
Leaving Ranworth.
(how wrong we were!)
Just upriver from Horning Hall, we were lured into thinking that 2 fenders idly floating by were discarded… RIVER TREASURE! We wasted no time, performed an all-standing gybe & lurched into the reeds gleefully.
Firstly, they were balloons. Secondly, we’d also gone hard aground. (Bugger). Thankfully both ‘Polly’ & ‘F’ were very supportive.
By 2pm, we were safely moored in Potter Heigham alongside the famous H.W yacht ‘Ladybird’, and were preparing to navigate through the bridges, without being attacked by any hire craft (!)
HW Ladybird – c.1930’s looking magnificent.
‘Ladybird’ is quite special, being built as a double-ended racing yacht, and subsequently then being modified & put into hire… (!) She was ‘transformed’ into this;
Cut-down rig & enlarged cabin… urgh!
What followed, was absolute champagne sailing, we headed up the Thurne & onto Horsey Mere, where the sea-breeze kicked in, and we all got to charge around the Mere just messing about in boats.
With thoughts of the evening’s BBQ, we motored back out of Meadow Dyke, navigation being punctuated by;
Tea (good)
Jeremy the dog walking off the stern of ‘Polly’ (less good)
Sadly, we’d managed to burn the only non-burning disposable BBQ in the world, so we set about to get quite pissed… However the day was not over!
9.30pm… it’s pitch black, and we’re quietly winding down… A motor boat is heard, heading up Heigham Sounds towards us… with a searchlight scanning the moorings (!)
Our campsite.
A VERY surreal experience followed… We were questioned (at length) by 2 river inspectors who refused to show ID, or approach us. It would appear that morning at Ranworth our tents were reported (by some morally righteous twerp) – which had precipitated a largescale ‘boat hunt’ with every BA launch mobilised for several hours, just to pursue us!
Despite the ridiculous nature of being told that we shouldn’t have done what we’d done quietly, without damage – we reached a stalemate & had a nightcap to digest it all…
Rain. Lots of it. A brief, but dense shower woke us all & peppered us throughout breakfast. There was a fierce competition as to how many people could fit inside ‘Corsair’, under cover. Eventually we realised it was futile, broke camp & set off to Wroxham.
This week, it seemed every S.o.B & his wife was out on the river – it was mayhem. As we approached Wroxham bridge, we were VERY glad to have stopped & left ‘F’ on a mudweight on Salhouse Broad.
As a side-note, ‘Corsair’ has an ingenious folding bracket which holds the outboard motor. Sadly this also means that it folds itself when you go hard astern… so in confined manoeuvres we go VERY slowly & hope nothing pulls out in front of us.
Teaching the tourists some anglo-saxon – we made a swift stern mooring, and were safely tucked up outside the coffee shop (oh no, of all the spots to pick!)
Fun fun fun on the way to Wroxham…
Hot showers suitably revived us, and special attire (lord knows what that means – Ed.) was donned in advance of ‘PollyWog’ joining us.
One brief & quite shouty evasive manoeuvre later, both ‘Corsair’ & ‘PollyWog’ escaped un-scathed despite the best efforts of ‘Queen of the Broads’ (!)
On the way to Horning – ‘F’ was recovered, whilst ‘Corsair’ went on, and moored outside the sailing club again – to allow us to raise sail, before leisurely heading to Ranworth. Almost immediately the wind fell to a flat calm. (bugger).
30 mins of quanting later, we’re huffing/puffing past the Ferry Inn, when Billy (in search of baccy) discovers he’s left his jacket at Horning Sailing Club. (Groan!).
Ten minutes of full-chat outboard later, we’re back at the sailing club, thankfully someone has kept the jacket safe having spotted it. (phew!) We’d left ‘Polly’ & ‘F’ to complete their slow drift to Malthouse Broad. We, on the grounds of likely mutiny chose to motor…
The drift to Ranworth…
As the evening drew in, with a choc-a-block staithe, we simply waited until the ferry stopped running before putting all 3 craft in the dayboat dyke. (simple!), before scarpering to the Maltsters.
Mostly uneventful, we went to bed, gratified by the sound of a tourist falling in…
With sun pouring in through the cabin windows (expertly cleaned by Nina & Billy) at 4:30am, E & myself made a resolve to prepare some curtains before tomorrow…
Another stunning morning! Brilliant sunshine & a fair, but light breeze we slipped down the Broad, with ‘Corsair’ chuckling to herself as Nina helmed.
Hickling; the photoshoot!
Several photographs later, we exited the Broad & headed up the upper Thurne toward Somerton to inspect Martham ferry, whilst ‘F’ caught us up.
Shortly after passing ‘Clipper 1’, we moored both craft upstream of the bridges before motoring through. Our entertainment for this bridge-transit was hearing the strident advice ‘C’ gave some tourists regarding their mooring technique…
Such amusements aside, once again we slipped off on a broad reach with Bill helming, whilst I busily prepared lunch (beef/mustard sandwiches).
Heading to PH.
At the confluence of the Bure & Thurne – ‘Corsair’ spent a minute or two before ‘F’ joined us. There followed an idyllic sail up river to Horning, following wind, sunshine, bliss!
Nina & Billy were both v.impressed with St Benet’s abbey, we delighted in all the ghost stories (some just for their benefit) as we passed.
Until Horning, things were peaceful, then the usual melee of day boats, tour boats, hire boats, swans, fisherman & miscellaneous craft provided a hair-raising sail for both boats!
(Scenes of ‘The art of coarse sailing’ – aiming for a point 4ft ahead of the stem of a tour boat raises the pulse!!!)
Once moored outside HSC – we returned to the mainland for a restorative ice-cream. Honestly, we looked like a bloody postcard scene! After some more posing, it was a short, if challenging sail downwind to Salhouse Broad. This section is pretty, but very tricky to sail with such heavily wooded banks.
Exhausted by our impressive mileage today, not one of us ventured upto the ‘Fur & Feathers’ in the evening (we’re all ‘kin knackered) Instead, the playground, woods & 3-hour walk to the toilets occupied us until our respective sleeping pits were found.
We woke slowly (for some reason), with mist lazily rising from the water. I set to the duties of tea-making for the crew. Some of them were more ‘perky’ than others the Skipper notes… (!)
A brief quant later, both vessels were moving quite nicely onto the Thurne, with ‘F’ sporting her new, oversize Cornish ensign. Several infuriating windshifts later, we had tacked our way into Potter, and temporarily moored alongside a Richardson’s bathtub.
This gave us a brief refuge to catch our breath, before we all piled into ‘F’ through the bridges, Haiwaii 5-0 style!
War canoe.
Unfortunately, during this manuevre ‘Corsair’ was struck (hard) by an incredibly unpleasant, brain-dead knuckle dragging dickhead who piloted a hire cruiser with about as much aplomb as a wrecking ball. Fruitless discussion with them left negoiations in the hands of the hire yard & myself. Even now, as I write this I remember what a complete & utter person of questionable parentage he was…
However, ice creams, quiche & a quick cuppa soon removed such issues from our minds, and we set off on our voyage to Hickling. Unusually, with no sea breeze, light airs continued, allowing Nina to helm, with Mr B & Billy crewing.
Why let a glorious day with friends get in the way of a petty tacking duel though?! Once on Heigham Sounds we set about with a sweet-looking ‘F’, swapping tacks & exchanging insults as we progressed up past Deep-go-Dyke.
‘F’ – in our duel (speed 1Kn)
Once on the broad itself, the sea breeze did appear (finally!) & allowed us some decent long tacks with Mr B helping the jib over. Keeping pace with ‘Corsair’ though was a very sprightly dinghy – known as a bugle – it looked nippy!
We moored on the staithe (expertly helmed by Billy) – and all set about cleaning/smartening ‘Corsair’ in advance of ‘E’ arriving.
Hickling – perfect evening.
So, finishing early – I can only note that I am sat in the blazing sunshine, listening again to a live-band, feeling totally content.
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.
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 Broadsman 