Waveney – A Broadsman

Storm surges & layup

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.

The water was HIGH all over the river network.

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.

2012/2013 – downhill.

The remainder of the 2012 season passed without too many notable incidents, we manage a short cruise to Geldeston in the company of 2 other registered RCC yachts, but increasingly signs were apparent that ‘Corsair’ was showing her age, and I was showing my naivety / lack of funds to manage & maintain her properly.

What was fantastic though, was sailing in a fleet of 3 such different yachts. We represented the oldest, pre-war design – & were accompanied by 2 RCC’s which showed how the concept had been modernised. S/N 275 ‘Breeze’ was a Derby-built boat, with an incredibly impressive racing career to her name, she’s owned by the family of a lifelong friend, and as photographed below – she’s come a long way from the hirefleet.

Her mainsail is from an international star one-design, giving her a powerful performance. Upwind in heavy-weather especially, she just takes off, and points, and points… A far cry from our own performance, sadly.

Whilst enjoyable, the predominant memory of the 2012 cruise is that as we were tacking into Beccles in light airs, our 1951 boom decided to snap directly above the mainsheet blocks. This swiftly became a fairly stark lesson in how the mainsail on a Broads yacht can (and will) become uncontrollable – and how quickly a jib that’s sheeted in can push you into the bank, HARD.

Without the funds to do anything else, I recall the frustration & resignation of the hot/dusty walk upto Jewsons in Beccles, where some cheap laths, a fence post & some galvanised grip-fast nails were purchased. A fairly brutal repair then followed – with my hammering the fence post inside the two broken segments of boom, and then applying the laths/grip-fast nails to stop everything sliding apart again. Ugly, yes. Cheap, yes. Long-lasting, no. Satisfying? Definitely not!!

At the time, although I knew I wasn’t keeping ‘Corsair’ as I should have, I also knew how powerless I was to do anything else. I just had to pray we’d somehow keep going. Which, without sounding like a complete idiot, is extremely hard, and simultaneously incredibly stupid. Wooden boats require an extremely high standard of maintenance, you cannot just ‘hope’ – and in my heart of hearts, I knew I was failing her.

There followed a litany of events for the remainder of the season which followed in the same vein, that torrential downpour at Breydon regatta, highlighting all the deck leaks / windows needing to be rebuilt, and ultimately the collision at our mooring which further broke our awning spreaders, tore the awning beyond repair & snapped our boom crutches (late August). All in all, it was a pretty horrid experience, spread out against the back-drop of knowing I needed to do more, if I was to keep ‘Corsair’ safe.

Some bastard simply motored off from here, having caused the damage.

I may have only been 5 years into owning her, but already I found she was a significant part of my life, something which echoed the feedback from previously owners I’d spoken with, they all fondly remembered her & talked at length about how she was centre to many fond memories & friendships for them. However hard it may be, I was determined to keep hold of her, and in truth – I knew I needed her.

By December – we’d taken the unusual step of de-rigging ‘Corsair’ & having her ready to be craned out. Despite having endured a litany of criticism from the red-tape brigade last year, it appeared we’d be able to use the riverside pub as a winter storage / impromptu boatyard again. With that in mind, ‘Corsair’ suffered the ignominy of being towed upstream, derigged & deposited on the moorings the night before the Turkey Race.

‘Corsair’ – dumped on the moorings as I sail past in a borrowed boat.

The race itself proved to be worth of the pages of J.D. Sleightholme… Firstly I stayed aboard a strange boat, in December, with no knowledge of how to work the heating (mistake no. 1) – then, I realised I couldn’t work the cooker… (mistake no. 2) – which lead to me being sub par on the morning of the race itself! I was half bloody frozen to death, starving hungry & for some idiotic reason I’d volunteered to run the race, including laying the course.

Unfolding a sail-cover & awning is no fun in the winter, when its wet you get soaked. What’s even less fun, is karete chopping the folds in, because the bugger is complete frozen solid! Ooopf. My finger’s turned blue, then white & numb. In fact every rope was frozen solid. I’d been promised that rigging a bermudian yacht was mere child’s play, it’d only take seconds… Pah!

We set off to lay the course, and naturally the cock up fairy wasn’t done with us yet. Thundering upstream (well, 6mph with a diesel clattering away) there was a sudden BANG… And the engine stopped. Bollocks. Wuuuuhhh, wuh, whuh wuhhhhhh groaned the starter, nothing, nada, zilch.

BOLLOCKS. I’d only dropped the lower mark, and there was no club boat to help, no vhf & no mobile signal. BOLLOCKS. Return to basic principles… ALWAYS keep the mainsail ready to hoist, tied down in crutches is no bloody good, same goes for the jib. Have it ready to unfurl. Somehow we managed to not hit anything, and I cut (always have a knife) some sail ties, BUT we got the main up & kept some way on… Now. A breather.

Oh no, oh NO! Can’t have that, a gust came down & with a mocking thump/gurgle – the weight & chain for the racing mark (stowed on the foredeck) rattled down to the lee-side & overboard. Oh bollocking bollocks.

Now, I want to you imagine that you’re walking briskly, and without warning I grab your left hand, refusing to let go, whilst you keep walking… that’s the sort of inertia we had, expect it was a 3 ton 28ft ex-hire boat fandango. We lunged to port, we involuntarily gybed, luffed, everything shook/banged like hell, we payed off, we gybed…., we swore, we tangled the ‘effin buoy it’s tackle under the keel, into the jib sheets & generally everyfuckingwhere…

Eventually, some order restored, I threw that buoy into the river with a rage normally associated with a family game of Monopoly.

It really wasn’t our year no matter whose boat we were on! We did manage to extricate ourselves, and get back to start the race on time. Eventually we finished a full 90 minutes behind everyone else (the wind dropped, and with no engine to use, there wasn’t any point in retiring, so forced to sail the course) – and definitely had developed mild hyperthermia as a result of rescuing that bloody buoy.

Post fandango – making our slow, slow way home…

Heyho.

2012 season; – we go to the seaside

The remainder of 2011 passed without much incident, although ‘Corsair’ did over-winter somewhere quite unusual…. Inside a pub carpark! Yes, really. A group of us formed a collective where a good idea sadly failed to flourish. We experimented to see if you could use spare land to keep boats on, and subsequently boost the takings in the pub over the quiet months.

Sadly, as ever with good ideas – the red tape brigade came marching in VERY quickly, and after 1 winter, we learnt it wasn’t to be repeated, we were all very naughty & that whoever thought of keeping boats next to a river anyway. Tsk, tsk & go sit in corner…

Some things do stand out that winter – firstly the cold. Jeepers Creepers it was a hard winter – planks were cut, hollowed & fitted, often in sub-zero temperatures & at least one day saw me roving up in the snow! Not ideal, but it got us ashore & ready for the season ahead.

For 2012, we had definitely found our ‘rhythm’ – we partook in the YSC May Day cruise, which included a tricksy little tack up through the trees from Brundall Gardens to Bramerton Common… where upon we (as a fleet) occupied the pub moorings, must to the consternation of a few Gin Palaces – unable to stomach the short walk from the common itself. Poor darlings.

‘Corsair’ & her pals at Bramerton… prior to GP upset.

Strange what sticks in your mind, my only defining memory of that weekend is that tricky tacking, and hearing (upon reaching Bramerton) that I’d made “not too bad a job of that” from another skipper on a much lighter, faster boat. Praise indeed!

Equally, we completed the Ray Perryman without a hitch, in uncharacteristic sunshine. Obviously the atrocious weather from the early May BH had been shamed into a ‘U’ turn! I didn’t know it, but we were establishing a pattern for the events which suited us, and eventually became our ‘season’.

The RP memorial race is run with a ‘gate’ start (you can start between 10-10:45am for example & you are timed from the moment you cross the line, rather than when the gate / start signal is made). This adds a little twist to your tactics… you juggle the vagaries of when the swing bridge will let you through to the start line – and also make a judgement of how much favourable tide you’ll need. My personal preference is always to get through (less rude letters to B.R.) then get going to maximise the flood tide helping you to Beccles.

This year, the photographic gods were also kind to us, if you don’t know our eventual position (7th)… you’ll see us momentarily leading the fleet! I think also, to keep the excitement going, at the post-race curry I ended up accidently eating some peanuts, and mid-way through allergic reaction, I looked up to see a close-friend sharpening a knife/dismantling a biro (for the emergency tractotomy – thankfully not needed!).

For those Ransome fans – Beccles is always a delight to visit, with the new bridge it’s hard to imagine the scene in AR’s day, but the thought of a Thames barge weaving it’s way up the Waveney, through the same trees as us always makes me wonder, just how did they do it? I know in the pool of London, they’d employ ‘hufflers’ to move them along. I suspect ‘Come Along’ had a say in moving them.

But yes, sorry. Without question the highlight of the 2012 season was our foray to the seaside. To my knowledge ‘Corsair’ had never been salt-side of Mutford Lock ever, and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. We left ‘Corsair’ safely tucked up at Geldeston for the week before, and ventured carefully down to Mutford Lock…

Succinctly – what a BRILLIANT weekend. Sadly unlikely to ever be repeated, with the building of the 3rd crossing in Lowestoft harbour – our racing area has been cut in half. Heyho. Going to the seaside though is something I highly recommend for any Broads yacht. Go, dress overall (the boat!), make sandcastles, play mini-golf & generally have a break from all that nasty yachting (!)

‘Corsair’ spent the 1st night in the basin, learning that a southerly inexplicably causes alot of ‘surging’ / banging & crashing for moored boats. Particularly when you’re the 4th boat inboard of a raft up of many…

Poor sleep aside, going out into the outer harbour and pitching/diving up around in the swell (rather than join the log jam in the bridge channel) proved excellent fun. Our borrowed 2hp outboard screamed like an egg-whisk, we dunked our bowsprit into waves, rocked/rolled, felt abit scared but generally very courageous. ‘Corsair’ might be little, but at times she’s got a great big heart. We got to the point where the RNSYC rescue boats discretely came to ask if we were okay (!).

The racing itself was definitely memorable, the wind got GUSTY, the rains came & those bloody grain silo things caused huge wind shadows… But it was brilliant fun. All those Broads yachts, terrorising the harbour. There were many broaches, our bilge pump rattled throughout each time we got laid onto our beam ends & the waterproofs proved themselves not waterproof (it’s always the way!)

As an aside, if you want to see true fear… Gather together a load of old Broads sailors, all of whom start on a 10, 5, GO system. Then casually announce you’re going to use 5, 4, 1, GO. The air became thick with panic & mutterings of ‘how do you reset this stopwatch?!”

Eventually, the rain/cold got to us, and we rigged the 2hp egg-whisk before then dipping the mast & scuttling back to the safety of the yacht basin. Despite it now being a f7, with torrential rain, we were hooked!

The rest of the weekend followed similar lines, lots of laughter, careening around in a small boat where maybe we shouldn’tve. All too soon, the weather cleared & we returned to the Broads, towing a friends yacht – who’d sadly been rushed to A&E. The only comparison it gave me was how rinky-dinky ‘Corsair’ is, when you compare her to even moderately larger Broads yachts…

So yes, ‘Corsair’ & the day we didn’t go to sea, but very nearly…

60th birthday party

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.

Cruise 2009 – Day 3

Day 3 started with rain. Lots of it. It drummed on the awning and slowly but persistently it revealed all of the deak-leaks. Annoyingly most are above our bunks!

It’s pointless staying in a damp bunk – so over breakfast various damp people from the fleet discussed our destination. No longer was it Geldeston, we’d motor down the Waveney and head for Cantley.

All of this was discussed over a nutritious meal of bacon rolls, and ‘hair of the dog’ Strongbow… design specifications had been exceeded last night. (!)

Following this decision, there was a flurry of activity as tents were folded, masts lowered and every inch of space used to stow gear. ‘Corsair’s’ forepeak was crammed, to the point we’d not get the mast back up ever again…

The outboard decided to break its fuel system at this point – thanks to Chief Engineer Jalil for sorting this (note promotion from Petty Officer!). As we left, we were definitely at the back of the fleet, and all of us soaked.

As ‘Corsair’ towed ‘Nulsec’ downriver a lucrative card-school was hosted in the cabin, the stakes were 2p a bet. All was well until some fool (James) lost his winnings.

Periodically these gambling, drinking swines would come to inquire as to the skippers well-being…

(It took years to find all the 2p coins in the bilges!!!)

As we motored downriver – those swines drank ALL the booze!

In the New Cut – bizarrely we realised that on our tail was ‘Herbie’ we weren’t last! Simon & Sarah were hustling along. Herbie was a 12ft Fibrocell dinghy, but was sporting an Evinrude 20hp on the back! There was nothing but a flurry of spray, a bow-wave and two soggy looking people!!

‘Corsair’ and ‘Nulsec’ moored at Reedham Street (to replenish the booze!), and we kept an eye to see if ‘Nulsec’ would sink again. She didn’t, and we managed to get all the sails up, to head upriver for Cantley.

Even the repaired rudder behaved itself!! Both craft enjoyed some champagne sailing up the Yare, to the extent that ‘Corsair’ carried on up with the last of the flood to the Beauchamp Arms…

We moored to a fishing platform – tiptoed ashore as the water swelled the banks and had a well-earnt pint.

Returning to Cantley kept us on our toes, but we’d drifted off (literally). Flush with success we poured ourselves some room temperature Gins and drifted back in the early evening sun.

The weather hadn’t finished with us, a ‘roger’ belted into us just upstream of Langley – shitshitshitSHIT, helm down, let go sheets, no good the booms in, HOLD ON!

Somehow – Robert in his role as official reporter coolly held his nerve (and his drink) and photographed how far we were over;

Suitably chastened – with split Gins and frayed nerved we returne to Cantley

Quick phone call sorted extra beds. So 4 lucky souls will sleep aboard on ‘The Only Girl’ (S/N137) for the night.

In the meantime though, the morning’s hangovers we discarded, who cares! the pub, the pub!!

Goodnight.

Day 2 – 2009 cruise

Sorry. As ever my ambitions to write regularly get thrown aside. However – a lot of the distraction has been sailing the boat, which is no bad thing.

‘Corsair’ had her topsail set recently. It’s the only sail remaining from the 1978 suit. To be honest I’ve never set a topsail on her before. In the true spirit of all ‘well thought’ out decisions, I dug the topsail out of my loft on the Thursday evening, rigging it Friday evening (on the quant pole in lieu of a proper spar) – and then raced with it on the Saturday morning.

It’s important to spend time on well founded (funded) development… (!)

The only down-side, was that the new mainsail doesn’t set quite ‘right’ with the old topsail. I’m considering narrowing the topsail by about 3 inches, which should allow the peak to sit better.

Also – using the quant as a topsail spar – it worked, kind of… Ultimately the sail needs its own spar, as the quant did bend. In fact I’m curious to see if a better spar will allow me to peak up the required amount.

Oh, and having put the boat in the reeds to get the rig up, you know what I needed to get out? The sodding quant…

She didn’t look too bad though;

The regatta in question, is the Autumn Open at Cantley – some excellent photographs were captured by my friend Sue, here if you’re interested. https://www.flickr.com/photos/ladylouise2/albums/72157710884428228

And, Editor’s privilege, here’s a gratuitous photograph of us – powering to the finish line. 2nd to last place. Champions.

So. Yes. Back to Day 2 of the 2009 cruise. To recap what had happened, please see here; https://broadssailing.blog/2019/08/14/summer-storms-submarines/

In short – James had sunk, we’d got pissed, and then some dubious sailing had occurred. Situation normal really!

Day 2 – Cruise 2009.

There was a strange sense of de ja vu about the early morning at Somerleyton… The skipper shuffled through the cockpit, en-route to get the kettle going. A cursory glance astern. BOLLOCKS!

‘Nulsec’ had caught up on the quay, and as the tide fell, she had reached an unnatural angle of heel. The bugger would capsize any moment. A flurry of hungover people came busting out of various craft up and down the bank – and pyjama-clad, we proceeded to put ‘Nulsec’ back into the water.

Later, post breakfast and caffeine (plus some ‘feedback’ to James) us saily-types decided that we would sail from Somerleyton staithe, up the Waveney with the ultimate destination of Beccles. ‘Corsair’ and ‘Nulsec’ were first to depart, taking advantage of an early opening bridge to saunter in the direction of Beccles.

‘Corsair’ took a brief pit-spot at the Waveney River Centre, providing a glimpse at Sailing Barge GM. A vessel I had skippered on a delivery trip from London to the Waveney River Centre earlier in 2009. Anyway, ‘Dragonfly’ swept by majestically, being lead by ‘Seabird’, we needed to stop dawdling!

Dragonfly – S/N 6. Largest Broads yacht on the rivers.

Having set off again, ‘Corsair’ tacked her way up the Waveney. A very short interlude later, ‘Nulsec’ was sighted, firmly stuffed up the lee bank. ‘Corsair’ brought up on the weather bank, and after some encouragement – ‘Nulsec’ paddled across, enabling us to make a temporary repair to the rudder. (more of this later).

‘Nulsec’ then set off, and we took bets on how long before we’d see them again…

Inevitably – the rudder had suffered a terminal failure. Thankfully it was in eyesight! Wow. ‘Nulsec’ stormed across the river, the rudder and tiller parted ways. The adjacent hire boat stopped abruptly in an indignant cloud of diesel smoke.

They shouted. We cringed. James flinched and Alison screamed.

‘Nulsec’ however, she was still going! In a series of beautiful violent and uncontrolled gybes, twists, loops and spins she seemed reluctantly to go out quietly. (!) She did inevitably, cannon into the lee-shore with a final thumping gybe.

HB was despatched to act as salvage craft to tow ‘Nulsec’ to Beccles.

‘Corsair’ continued her gentle tack up the Waveney, now being in the tree-lined upper reaches. I manned the foredeck (read my book), or at least I tried. The skipper would like the record to state that Chris B tried to garotte me with the jib-sheets!

(I’ve never liked him).

Eventually Beccles was reached, with some weapons-grades Pimms, and a BBQ restoring everyone’s spirits. Simon was a sterling figure of ingenuity – he first fixed ‘Nulsec’s’ rudder – and then identified the cause of the leaks / sinking!