The following cruises took place at the beginning of the 1955 season. My boat, Aurora II, designed as a cruising dinghy 13 ft. 6 ins. by 5 ft. 9 ins., is based at Itchenor, Sussex, about eight miles from my home at Bognor Regis. During the week, I work at Chelmsford, Essex, but enthusiasm easily overcomes distances, so having cruised for some years in the Solent, I decided to sail to Poole during weekends in order to save my fortnight’s holiday for use later in the season. I had started fitting out during a fine spell in January and, by the end of March, my boat was launched and equipped.

The thought of at last breaking free from the confines of the Solent gave me a distinct feeling of apprehension for the terrors which I imagined lay beyond the narrows at Hurst. On previous cruises, I had stood on the gravel bank there and gazed longingly at the haze-obscured coastline stretching enticingly westward so that at last the irresistible urge for adventure triumphed over my somewhat cautious nature and I was now on my way on what was, for me, a voyage of discovery.

Friday 8-4-55. 6am on a chilly morning saw me leaving home with a kitbag perched precariously on the handlebars of my cycle. A week’s supply of food and adequate clothing are normally aboard but my kitbag was still packed tight with bread, extra supplies of fresh food, charts, mack, shoes, etc., as I like to be completely independent of the shore when cruising. Reaching Itchenor an hour later, I hurriedly stowed gear, filled the two gallon can with fresh water and started off at 8am. H.W. (springs) was at I2am and I wished to reach the entrance of the harbour, four miles off, by 9.30am to catch the west-going stream outside. I would have to fight the current and the wind was of course, S.W. moderate so I pushed off and pulled the starting cord of the inboard engine. It did not start, much to my surprise, for after four years of infallible operation, I had come to look upon it as a certain starter. However, I was rapidly drifting towards some moored yachts so I rewound the cord, gave a mighty heave and leapt almost out of the boat as the cord snapped. Frantically tying another knot in the cord, I tried again and was gratified when the engine burst into life and I was at last able to get clear and start chugging downstream… for precisely one minute, when the engine packed up and I was left drifting silently to a stand-still. Anchoring in mid-stream, I tried to restart the engine but it was absolutely dead and I sat back with the feeling that things were not going quite as smoothly as planned. It was two months before the engine was running properly and only then did I realise that I had omitted to clean out the petrol tank when fitting out and engines do not like a mixture of petrol and water. Hoisting sail, I started beating down-stream and two hours later I was struggling out of the entrance of the harbour against the strong current. Eventually, I reached open water but the breeze fell light and, having lost most of the tide, I decided to give up so sailed back inside and a short way up Mengham Rythe. Anchoring, I tried to lower the mainsail but the main halliard wire-to-rope splice tended to jam so seizing the yard, I jerked it viciously down and splintered the end of my extension tiller. I was ready for this set-back, however, as I had a tin of general purpose glue and repairs were soon effected. So ended my first day’s cruising.

9-4-55. The forecast on my radio was westerly winds, moderate to fresh so, before starting, I tied in a reef and set No 2 jib as the west wind seemed to be freshening and I did not want to be forced to reef outside the harbour entrance. Sailing out on the starboard tack at 10am I was soon well out in the Solent approaching No Man’s Fort and, with a lightening breeze, I set full sail and continued slowly up Spithead. Off Osborne Bay, I belayed the mainsheet and started to eat my lunch but when half-way through my sandwiches, the breeze freshened rapidly so I packed everything away, dropped the sails and changed into waterproofs and life jacket. As I was reefing in, I was appalled to see that a coaster, which I thought would pass by with a large margin, was headed towards me. I suppose I did look as if I was in trouble, with the boat wallowing about out of control, so, as the coaster came up, I ignored it completely and did not even look up, although it was confoundedly disturbing with the thing breathing down the back of my neck. I felt that if I waved and called out, “I do not need help”, they might only hear the last word and dreadful consequences would follow if they came alongside. I appreciated their action, of course, but was relieved when they passed on. With one reef in, I sat right out and was soon enjoying an exhilarating sail as the boat thrust herself powerfully to windward. The short seas caused by the moderate to fresh breeze could not stop my heavy boat and when waves struck awkwardly they were broken up into spray, which occasionally swept over the boat. Reaching the entrance of Beaulieu at about 5pm, I suddenly decided to sail on to Lymington, but when about half-way there, the breeze dropped off so I dropped the sails and started the engine which ran for about five minutes before packing up. The tide had now turned and it was too choppy to row with any speed so, cursing and fuming, I set sail to a light N.W. air and headed back to Beaulieu, which I reached at about 7.30pm. The river was ebbing hard so I rowed just inside the entrance with considerable effort and anchored. The position was not very sheltered from the S.W. but the forecast was N.W. wind i.e. off-shore. After finishing my “lunch”, I set the tent and enjoyed a hot supper of Irish stew (tinned) followed by fruit and cream.

The next morning, I awoke to find the wind fresh S .W. but, as yet, I was protected by Beaulieu Spit which was not yet covered by the rising tide. However, the wind against the tide in the reach was kicking up a bit of a sea and the boat was plunging a little. Clearing up after breakfast, I noticed that the boat was plunging more violently and, on looking outside, I found that the first reach was covered in small breakers which were continually passing under the boat, but inside the tent, I had not realised it. The Solent was now covered with white horses and, knowing that the tide would soon be running against the wind out there, I funked going out, so set the main close reefed and No.2 jib at the stem, then upped anchor and beat up the first reach, to more sheltered water at Gin’s Farm. I sailed right up the river to an old landing stage about a mile from the top.

The following morning, the last day of my Easter Holiday, I landed nearby and took a stern line ashore but, as it was low water, it was difficult to judge just how near the bank the boat might swing. The tent was set low down as a boat cover and I left her there as I tramped about a mile across fields to Beaulieu Village. Having, of course, just missed the bus to Southampton, I glared at each car as it passed and was pleasantly surprised when an immaculate Triumph TR2 pulled up and I was invited to hop in. I was soon travelling towards Southampton at a speed considerably higher than my average for the previous few days.

The following Friday (15-4-55) I managed to reach Southampton in time to catch the last bus to Beaulieu and reached there at 9.45pm. As I walked along the path to my boat in the dark, a terrific barking broke out ahead of me and the dogs were evidently loose. However, I pressed on desperately and, fortunately, their nerve broke before mine. On reaching the river bank, I looked around for my boat and was horrified to see it with the stern on the edge of the saltings and the bow three feet lower down so that it lay diagonally and heeled over at 45 degrees. Before dealing with the problem, I sat on the bank and gloomily ate my supper of sandwiches and a thermos of tea, wondering whether I should sleep ashore in my mack but the cold ruled this out. Finally, I squelched over the saltings to the boat and found to my surprise that she seemed quite firm, so taking off my mud-caked shoes and hanging them outside, I gingerly lifted the cover and clambered into the “uphill” side of the boat. I then got out my kapok sleeping bag and somehow managed to squirm into it and pulled my mack right over my head although everything was at a fantastic angle.

At intervals throughout the night I awoke to find myself rather chilly and at last woke up at about 5am to find the boat at a less steep angle, it being high water (neaps). Loosening the cover which promptly fell off, I sat up and beheld everything frozen hard and a thick layer of frost everywhere. The bow had lifted slightly so I gave the boat a heave, and to my relief, she slid into the water. I had originally planned to leave at about 3.30am but, having some work to do on the engine, I was hopelessly late when I started off at 8.30am. The engine ran steadily for about thirty minutes which took me almost to Needs Oar Point before it failed. I managed to get it started again and motored out into the Solent. There being no wind, I allowed the boat to drift down the Solent whilst I tidied up and rigged the sails. A light breeze arose and, having missed the tide to Christchurch, I sailed to Lymington where I anchored in Pylewell Lake, overhauled the carburettor and tested the engine.

The next morning, Sunday, I left Lymington at 9am and sailed at last out of the Solent and round Hurst Point at 9.55am before a light N.E. breeze. At last I felt that I was getting somewhere and, thinking the breeze was dropping, started to set the spinnaker as a reaching jib but the wind started to freshen so I carried on under plain sail. Soon the boat was roaring along and I squinted through my monocular towards Christchurch in order to identify the entrance. I was rather anxious about entering the harbour because it would be about low water neaps and I could not wait for deeper water as I had to be sure of catching trains back to Essex. The channel buoys were soon identified and I went tearing on much too fast for my liking. As I approached the bar, with small breakers showing the shallows each side of the channel, I met the last of the ebb, which was so strong that I made only slow progress, this being just what I wanted. The plate was up but soon the rudder hit and I pulled that up too and saw the shingle moving slowly just under the keel. Dead ahead was another buoy and, of course, I tried to pass it to starboard. The keel started grating and bumping now so I then jammed the tiller down and slewed violently to port, grinding along and feeling the bottom of the hull hitting the larger stones. After a few more hectic minutes (or were they seconds) I started to reach deeper water and, with a sigh of relief, sailed on up the harbour at about 11.30am. At the Christchurch S.C., I was very hospitably received, being offered a visitor’s mooring and the use of the club tender. As I travelled back on the train, I congratulated myself on specifying the bottom of the boat to be wych elm, which is ideal for standing up to rough treatment.

23-4-55. Having arrived the previous night and cooked a leisurely breakfast, I left Christchurch entrance at 11.45am with a forecast of light S.W. winds increasing to moderate. The wind was F3-4 so good progress was made. At Christchurch Ledge, some spray was taken aboard and I had to keep a sharp look-out for fishing nets which seemed to be everywhere. Poole entrance was reached at 3pm and, sailing in against the ebb, I eventually ran aground off the Parkstone Y.C. so I set the tent and stayed there the night. The following morning, I landed and visited the club to make enquiries about A.G. Earl author of “Dinghy Cruising” whom I was trying to trace. They later forwarded a letter of mine to him and I found that he kept his boat about 200 yards from mine at Itchenor!

30-4-55. This day dense fog banks put me off sailing back to the Solent so I spent it very enjoyably exploring Poole and finally landed up at Wareham where, on the Sunday, I tied up at the Redciffe Y.C., leaving the tent set as it was very sheltered. 6-5-55. My lines of communication were now rather stretched, so train connections had to be carefully planned but the trip to Wareham was quite quick and I had time to buy some fish and chips before boarding my ‘week-end home”.

7-5-55. Leaving Wareham at 11.45am, I reached Poole entrance at 2pm. The 1pm forecast was S.W. light and strong later, so with the wind fresh S.W., I anchored and took in a reef, the outlook, however, was doubtful, and since it was low water at Christchurch, I would not be able to use it as a refuge if the weather deteriorated, so I sailed back to Brownsea Island and had lunch. At 7.30pm I left Poole close reefed with No.2 jib set at the stem and Christchurch now a safe harbour under my lee. The boat surged along steadily before quite a swell but by 6pm the wind had moderated. In case it freshened again, I left the sails close reefed and set the spinnaker. After passing Christchurch, the wind moderated further so I set full sail and, passing through the North Channel, entered Hurst Race at 8.30pm. I chose to sail through the race as the wind was light but, even so, I was surprised at the way the boat was thrown about and both side decks were soon wet; definitely a place to avoid. Arriving at Lymington at 9pm, I anchored in Pylewell Lake for the night. The next day, the tide being unfavourable, I decided to leave the boat at Lymington. I could not find the harbour master, so tied up to a jetty after being told by a member of one of the local clubs that he would get the harbour master to put my boat out on a mooring.

13-5-55. On arriving at the jetty I was surprised to see my boat still tied up there and it is a wonder it was not damaged.

14-5-55. The forecast was moderate to fresh westerly, and I left at 10am with the wind S.W. moderate. The boat surged along at a good speed, Egypt Point being reached at 11.10am.