Target Isle of Wight Continued.

Sunday was spent in lazy contemplation of my new cruising ground, the Solent. In some ways exploratory sailing of this sort is harder to organise than longer trips with a limited objective. It is not just good enough to get in good day’s sailing; one must end up in a good spot to repeat the performance next day. Over the next three weeks Zephyr found her way into almost every creek and inlet between Chichester and Poole Harbour. The weather remained unsettled but all the trips were short ones with plenty of shelter to hand and once that the sun came out, the rain was soon forgotten. A bunch of heather gathered from one of the islands in Poole Harbour decorated the cabin for the rest of the season.

After watching the first few days of Cowes Week, I returned to Bembridge to carry out my last social calls in the Solent area. The weather brightened up on Friday while I collected some mail, checked the topmast rigging at low water from the old railway jetty in the northwest corner of the harbour and left at noon to carry the spinnaker to the Looe Channel at 1515hrs. In sharp contrast to the trip down to the Solent, visibility was good all the way. At this stage I had not realised that this often means strong winds to come. As the wind increased I shifted to working jib and got a lucky slant to take me over the ebb into Littlehampton at 1845 hrs. This was one of the few spots where I was charged for a mooring, costing I believe one shilling, but it is pleasant spot.

  It was calm enough inside the harbour on Saturday morning but once outside, I decided to reef the jib, which I like to do early before things get too lively. While doing so I decided to close reef the mainsail and eventually got going at 0745 under mainsail only. It was going to blow and there were no wide estuaries for me to run into. The only harbours were Shoreham, Newhaven or Rye. Shoreham wasn’t very far but the entrance looked awkward and the wind seemed to ease as I got there, encouraging me to press on but by the time I reached Worthing it really came on to blow and the seas mounted such as I had never seen before from a small boat. The coastline was obscured by rain and low cloud and of course I had covered this part of the journey by night on the way down so it was terra nova to me. Zephyr was wonderful, dropping back behind the waves until I was in a lonely little world of my own, then climbing slowly up again as the next one overtook her until the white foam boiled round her and I could peer ahead for Newhaven Harbour and safety. While reaching for a scarf, I let her gybe and she went down the face of a wave broadside on while I sat in the lee side of the cockpit. It was very lucky that this happened early rather than later on the passage. As I said in an earlier chapter, Zephyr is a boat that suffers fools gladly and patiently, otherwise I would not be writing this today. Eventually I made out the hazy shape of what must be the harbour walls and then, to my relief, a channel ferry came out to confirm it. The next problem was that it would be a gybe to get round into the harbour. I had enough sense not to get too close to the harbour pierheads and the turmoil of the rebounding waves. It was a tense moment and I trembled as I watched for a smoothish spot. The chance came, the boom went across sweetly and suddenly I was in smooth water as the wind seemed to scream even harder outside. I drifted up between the piers and wharves, a very quiet, subdued and thoughtful little boy. The Harbour Master directed me alongside the R.N.S.A. yacht Jutta and quickly came over with his assistant to charge me seven pence farthing to moor for the week. I was surprised that they were in such a hurry but they explained that they had to collect quickly in case I slipped out to sea again!

  Things soon dried out under the tent with both stoves going and plenty of ventilation but it was an uncomfortable berth with a heavy swell coming into the harbour. I was disgusted with the gear on Jutta; sisal rope and ungalvanized shackle, which they told me was now standard naval gear. She was bound the same way as Zephyr and left for Chatham on Sunday evening. The wind still blew strongly and a walk to the pierhead in warm sunshine convinced me that the Channel was not yet a suitable place for a leaky old centreboard boat and that I was in the best place.

  The wind was obviously lighter on Monday but there was a long swell running and I hung on until noon to confirm that there were no gale warnings about before leaving under close-reefed mainsail. Off the harbour mouth I tangled with the northern pier and scraped badly before realising that the topping lift has caught on a projecting bolt. Half an hour later I was settling down to one of the finest and most thrilling sails that I have ever had. The wind was strong enough to keep the boat going well but the seas, in spite of their size, were smooth except for a few feet of gleaming white foam on the crests. This was the nearest that I am ever likely to get to trade wind sailing. Once my first fears were calmed. I found it exhilarating. Hastings faded astern into a golden sunset as the lighthouse on Dungeness came up bold and clear. The jib went up and the reefs came out as I neared Dover, which seemed to take a long time to pass astern in the darkness. Eventually the breeze died altogether off Deal and I anchored at 0300 hrs. In return for the loan of some tools to enable them to reef the mainsail, the crew of Jutta had given me a tin of plums, a real luxury in those days of rationing and I had set to work on them during the night. The first pound or two were delicious but it was a seven pound tin and I was almost glad to finish the last of them and chuck the tin over the side before getting into my bunk for some overdue kip.

  Later on Tuesday I explored the Stour as far as Richborough in light airs and visited Ramsgate. Margate and Faversham over the next three days. The wind had settled in the southwest by Friday afternoon and I decided to try a night passage across the Thames, leaving Faversham at 1400hrs, rounding Shellhaven at 1600hrs, the West Middle at 1700hrs and across into the West Swin. It was a grand evening but the wind grew light as the two-knot tide carried Zephyr downwind and she was obviously not going to reach the Whitaker beacon off the northeastern tip of Foulness Sands by low water. The parachute jib helped get her round over the first of the flood at 2300hrs. Now came an interesting lesson in night navigation in shoal water. It was a dead beat down the Whitaker Channel to the entrance to the River Crouch and the only light was on the South West Buxey bouy four miles on. I tacked across to the Buxey Sand on the far side until my sounding pole touched bottom in about six feet where upon I came about onto starboard tack and repeated the trick on the Foulness side. You really cannot go wrong! After reaching the S.W. Buxey bouy I turned north up the Rays’n with a fair wind into a wider, less well defined channel and was soon lost as there was no lighted compass to guide me. When the water ran out and she slid to a halt on soft mud, heaven knows where, there was nothing to do but put the anchor over and get some sleep. It was my intention to sail on again at high water in the brilliant moonlight but I slept too well and found the boat high and dry on the mud just off the southern end of the railway target piers next morning. The sun was warm and I busied myself collecting a bucket full of aircraft cannon shell cases but threw them away for I collect far too much junk anyway. When the range was closed a year or two later I read that collecting this brass for recycling during the Korean war became a profitable trade for a time. I looked for signs of the Hoo Outfall from which barges carried stacks of hay ten feet high on the decks to feed London’s horses but could find no sign of the large inlet in the mud flats shown on the O.S. map. (A shallow inlet through the saltings to the sea wall remains). The returning tide brought a fine breeze from the southeast to carry me home to Maldon at high water feeling on top of the world!