PEARSON’S CREEK

Originally intended to be a cruise to Ferriby Sluice but a persistent force 6 easterly wind and torrential rain kept three boats, Thistle, Teal and Laertes, weatherbound in Grimsby Dock until Sunday afternoon when all three locked out and set sail with a smart N. Wester on the port beam.

Owing to the fact that it became exceptionally uncomfortable in Hull Roads, and the skipper of Laertes was on his first cruise, we decided to put into Pearson’s Creek instead of continuing on to Ferriby.

About 0800 hours everyone dragged himself out. As the tide was at full ebb, there were numerous trawlers and tankers, etc. heading for sea and it was quite a problem keeping out of everyone’s way and still heading in the direction we desired. Incidentally if anyone finds himself in a similar position remember that each trawler has made its own rut down the river and trawler skippers don’t think kindly of sailing dinghies that accidentally get themselves into it. They’re fine people really but they should be spoken to with respect and with earplugs in.

Once out of the main channel we caught sight of Fidalga IV sneaking through close inshore over Skitter Ness. As the wind was very light, we passed the time by devising various and fiendishly cunning ways of putting more sail on the two boats. Laertes rigged an oar as a bowsprit and suddenly hoisted a flying jib, while Thistle hoisted an oar as a top mast and produced an old Bermudan mainsail as a genoa; this was even more entertaining when the skipper fell overboard.

After drifting painfully slowly with the tide for what seemed hours, we eventually rowed into Grimsby Dock basin to await locking through after a most interesting and entertaining cruise.

SPURN P0INT — 1st June

As the tide began to leave Cleethorpes slipway, Laertes was rigged and launched and ready for the trip.

The wind was very fresh from the S.E. and everything was set but for one thing: the crew. I had not yet arrived, and being new to the sport of sailing, the owner thought it wise to wait for my arrival. Eventually I did turn up and we set off for Spurn at a really spanking pace. Conditions became progressively worse as we crossed the main channel and came into Spurn Bight. Just as I advised the skipper to go about, we caught a real beauty. It waited for a second gathering all its strength and then — THUMP — it hit us right amidships and seemed to hover over our heads before soaking us all through and putting quite a substantial amount in the boat.

When we landed on the lee side of Spurn Point we laid everything on the sand and it wasn’t very long before it was all dry. We looked over the lifeboat and were just trying to decide what time to set off for home when a maroon went off. We saw several of the lifeboatmen running along the beach so we did likewise thinking that something was afoot. It was. Within seconds of the last man running into the boathouse the lifeboat tore down the slipway and plunged into the sea. She then proceeded to Cleethorpes at full speed. This made our minds up for us; we were off.

The lifeboat, which we kept in sight through the binoculars, was patrolling up and down the coast, occasionally coming a little off shore. Suddenly a helicopter dropped out of the sky, circled us a couple of times at about 100 feet and flew off in the direction of the lifeboat. When we landed, we ran ashore to find out what we were looking for and then set off again. It was pretty futile rally but it added spice to the day’s sailing; if the lifeboat and helicopter couldn’t find it then there was precious little chance of us doing so, at least we tried. After about an hour we took the lead of the lifeboat and headed for home.

Apparently a little girl had been blown offshore on a car innertube but had drifted ashore again about 1½ miles further up the coast, not far from where we landed; to top it all, she walked back with her innertube and her parents never said anything about it until later on in the evening. All I can say is that they want to fit tubeless tyres to their car next year. However it all added up to a most interesting day even though only one boat turned up.

BRIDLINGTON — July 20th-27th

For the first time this year, the weather held good, and at 1430 hours Laertes, with myself and Mr. D. Hebb aboard, sailed silently out of Grimsby Docks on the level.

Weather Report 1340 hours: SE force 3-4,inc 4-6 veering W; mod vis becoming poor, fog patches. Dowsing: SW 4, mod, rain showers.

With a not very promising forecast we found we could just lay Spurn Point so with a National 12 mainsail and jib we began our long leg out. Mr. A. Bradley in Teal was supposed to rendezvous with us at Clee Ness Light vessel and as he was not even on the water when we arrived, we decided to continue and meet him in the lee of Dimlington Highland.

With a very fresh S.E. wind and a spring tide beneath us we found that it became progressively worse, the nearer to Spurn we got. The Binks didn’t even bear thinking about, you can perhaps visualize what happens when an 8 knot tide runs into a bank that shallows from 15 fathoms to ½ fathom in nearly as many feet. Add onto that the fact that you have a very fresh wind dead against the tide and it all adds up to a really short and steep sea with the tops all nicely curling over in anticipation of your presence.

With visions of the Flying Dutchman we plunged forth into the mass of airborne water. Surprisingly enough, we didn’t take too much water aboard but it was quite enough for one session and we were very pleased to come through into deeper water on the opposite side unscathed.

Once through and on the other tack, we found that we could lay along the coast nicely, but if the wind veered to W. as it was forecast then it would be a dead beat all the way. As we passed Dimlington Highland, we saw Teal beating round Kilnsea so we continued. The wind had steadily veered and increased and just as Teal seemed to be getting within about half a mile she suddenly disappeared. I leapt for’d and dropped the jib just as it hit us; a really violent rain storm.

As soon as it came it disappeared and at 1900 hours as Withernsea came abeam, we closed on Teal for a yarn with Arthur. From Withernsea we set three hour watches and as the weather seemed to have settled for the night the man off watch brewed up the cocoa and laid out a really delicious supper. As it became dark we lit our navigation lights and sailed lazily but contentedly in the general direction of Bridlington with the sound of music drifting across the water from the two boats.

About 2130 hours, just inside the D.2. we passed quite close to a vicious looking object which projected about three feet out of the water, we noted it on the chart and continued on our placid way.

Weather Report 2400 hours: SW force 5-6, mod vis, showers. Dowsing: WSW 4, 5 miles

I stayed on watch to see Hornsea pass at 2435 hours and then I turned in. I was shaken out about 0345 hours to lead the way into Bridlington Harbour. I remember thinking that I couldn’t let Teal beat us in now so we hoisted the jib and started to make a race of it. Teal didn’t beat us in, for about twenty yards outside we passed them to windward and triumphantly led the way in.

Being blessed with a week’s holiday, we had decided to set off on the Tuesday but when Tuesday came it was blowing a gale from the S.E. and an ugly sea was piling up in the harbour entrance. We watched a yacht running towards us under jib alone and they seemed at times nearly to roll onto their beam ends; when they got in, relieved but none the worse for wear, it turned out to be Red Gauntlet from the Humber Yawl Club. Wednesday turned out a little better but it was still not satisfactory so we waited until Thursday. On Thursday it would have been nearly as bad as although the wind had veered, it was still very strong and it might have been a pleasant sail up to Withernsea but once past there it would have become absolute torture.

I had to be in London by Friday evening so I persuaded the lads to let me go, and it took some doing, too.

On August 3rd, the three lads returned to Bridlington plus another crew for Laertes and made preparations for an early start.

Extract from Laertes’ Log:-

0330 hrs. Set sail in very light airs, drift across South Bay with the tide past a South Cone which was hoisted on the signal staff.

Weather Report 2400 hrs: SW/W force 6-8, decreasing force 3-4, thundery showers, mod vis. Dowsing: W 4, 11 miles

0700 hrs. Hornsea abeam, comfortable sailing with working jib and National mainsail. Teal who had a double reefed main was almost on the horizon in front but was not gaining much more.

0810 hrs. Entered D.2., we made no enquiries about bombing but decided to chance it. Teal was nearly clear of the Zone by now, and having no radio we did not learn until later the weather forecast which was: SW veering W, force 3-5. A remarkable piece of luck although we were not yet aware of it.

0845 hrs. Sailed clear of the D,2. without incident, the wind had veered slightly and on approaching Withernsea we were almost on a run and making excellent time. At Hornsea we noticed that a swell was beginning to build itself and by now it had built itself up to such a pitch that when in the troughs it was impossible to see the horizon or the shore even though we were quite close.

1020 hrs. Withernsea lighthouse abeam, we were now plugging a foul tide and progress was much slower. We observed a stream of muddy red water, flowing inshore with great velocity so we bore away to seaward. Once back in green water, we made a little better progress. The crew saw a porpoise surfacing close astern but when the skipper turned round he could not see anything; shortly after this the skipper felt sick and went below for a snooze. He was awakened by the sound of voices and found that Teal was directly astern and the two boats were approaching Kilnsea, the time was not logged because no one was really certain that they were where they were.

The reason Laertes had overhauled Teal was because Teal had encountered a very strong ebb offshore and had made no apparent headway for quite some time.

The two boats now had to tack, taking a short leg out to sea and the next running nearly parallel to the shore. We were still beating when we followed Teal through a narrow gap between a sandbank and the shore which wasn’t quite so rough as it first looked.

1530 hrs. Lloyds Signal Station abeam.

Two dinghies were sighted on Spurn Point but we followed Teal on the beat across the Humber which was nothing like as rough as was expected. Eventually the two boats landed at Cleethorpes Pier at 1800 hrs.

There was certainly a variety of weather on this highly successful cruise, if nothing else. There was also quite a write up in the local newspaper about it and also in one or two Yorkshire papers, though how they got hold of the story remains a mystery to us all.

STONEY CREEK — August 16-17th

Only the Thistle went with Colin Landymore and myself. It was pouring with rain. Our spirits were raised on the way back though, by a beautiful sail but when we moored in the creek at Grimsby once more, it was again pouring with rain.

BARTON — August 30th, 31st & 1st September

This trip turned out to be quite a laugh. There were six boats sailing, these were myself in Laertes, Ken Smith in Thistle, Max Seltzer in Zim, Charles Farrow, Ben Nickerson and Fred Ceiling in their Y.W. G.P.14s. We were all sailing from the creek at Grimsby and we all set off at nearly dead low water with a fresh breeze astern. We enjoyed a race together up to Barton where we moored opposite a pub.

When we awoke next morning (or rather when Dave Hebb woke up) the boat was afloat and a thick fog had descended. Dave got out; I dragged myself up, took one look at the weather and promptly turned in again.

I was suddenly brought to life again by the sound of an engine; I popped up to see Dave Hebb at the tiller looking very much like the painting of Henry Hudson on his last voyage. I must say that when I looked out to sea I began to have doubts myself. Laertes was drifting with the tide upriver completely out of control. After drifting like this for an hour we decided to row inshore to find out where we were. We had picked an opportune moment for the first thing we saw was the concrete pier at Barton Haven and the tide has just started to ebb. We rowed into the haven and moored alongside a barge just astern of Thistle.

It had previously been decided that we would leave for home in the last of the ebb, so at the appointed time we all trooped back to the boats, only to discover that we had got ourselves semi-permanently stuck. We couldn’t get out if the devil himself was clawing at the transom. The only thing to do was wait for high water, which was about 2130 hrs. and sail back in the evening if we were to be at work the following morning.

We spent the afternoon by eating, sleeping and boozing and when eventually the time came to depart we were only too pleased to be on our way. We set off about 30 minutes before H.W. and we were soon bowling along with a Southerly breeze and as we passed the North Lincs Sailing Club’s clubhouse we tried to call them up with the Aldis lamp. They didn’t reply but we sent our message of goodwill. We had agreed to call each other up every hour and although we both had our navigation lights on, we soon lost Thistle in the mass of lights and reflections off Hull.

That was the last we saw of Thistle until reaching Grimsby. We were sailing on a course towards Heden Haven when the wind seemed to disappear completely; we drifted along on the same course for what seemed an eternity, keeping well clear of all the outward bound ships. Some time later, Dave pointed to a cluster of lights and said, “Look, isn’t that New Holland?” I took a look and for the minute I really did think it was New Holland, for they were on our starboard quarter and Heden Lights were still on our Port bow. What was more important was that we were travelling towards the lights on our starboard quarter, which we thought damn nigh impossible as it meant that we had both nodded off for at least four hours and I didn’t feel a bit as if I had. It never even entered our heads to look at the compass and after trying to figure how it was possible I did just catch a glimpse. It fell on me like the Victory’s main yard; we were headed due North and drifting stern first downtide, the lights on our starboard quarter were Killingholme. After that rude awakening we began rowing, not so much to keep the boat moving but to keep warm. We passed Immingham well on the Yorkshire side and kept in the main channel until we thought we were opposite Grimsby Dock. We then turned round and rowed more or less direct for the Dock allowing for what tide was left. We didn’t get far for we hadn’t been heading in this direction for long before we ran aground. There was only one thing that it was possible to run aground on out there so at long last we really knew exactly where we were. It didn’t take long to row round the Burcom Bank and to the creek. When we arrived we moored alongside a pile driver near the entrance and Dave set off on the long trek home. I stayed on the boat to move it to the far end of the creek when there was enough water, as I presumed the Thistle had done when she arrived.

No sooner than Dave was out of sight, I crawled below and went out like a light; I was awakened by someone calling my name, and I looked out to see Thistle trying to get through the mud to where I was moored. Reluctantly I assisted them to moor and without any ado departed once again into a world of peaceful oblivion.

Perhaps you’re wondering what happened to the other four dinghies? Well, now comes one of the funniest parts of the whole weekend. When I returned home that evening, I looked in the newspaper and saw the headlines “Sailing Dinghies Make History”. I thought, “Heavens, surely this isn’t about us?” It wasn’t; it was about four G.P. 14s who defied the elements and battled their way through rough seas to Barton that weekend. The roughest seas they came across were on the top of their pint tankards as they related the yarn to a throng of reservoir sailors, no doubt listening with awe to the tales of rough water sailing and sea monsters. They were a long time living it down in the Grimsby clubhouse.

Incidentally they missed the best part of the whole trip for they didn’t sail back, they came back by road behind a car.

The season on the whole left a lot to be desired as far as the weather was concerned.