Day 1. Don’t look now but for the last hour a boat has been following. First time I’ve towed her with a 1000cc. engine, seems all right. The forest looks beautiful this June afternoon and we’ll soon be at my favourite club, Christchurch. Could the weather stay like this for a week? Anything will be an improvement on last year; a log of that cruise would have read like a met. report.

Got my temporary membership with no trouble, as usual. If I could afford it I’d join this club just for the odd occasion; but I can’t so I’ll pay the ten shillings for a fortnight though I shall only be around for a week. Steward has found us a mooring, although we have to wait a couple of hours before we can get afloat from the ramp. Let’s shoot her off into the mud and get the gear aboard, and the trailer parked; we’ll soon be afloat. Isn’t this a delightful spot? Not deep enough for the big boats; just full of clinker built dinghies. The Coot is my favourite, think I’ll ask a local yard to build me one, with a cockpit shaped to receive my coracle and I’ll have an aluminium trailer and a nylon cover instead of this old canvas and I’ll… wake up you dreamer, if you have enough money for a pint on the way home you’ll be lucky.

That dinner was excellent, this coffee smells good; will row over to the club house in the coracle and declare the 1961 cruise started.

Day 2. My turn to get the tea — I could have sworn I got it on the last morning last year. This is our first opportunity to put to sea for a year and it’s raining! We’ll take a leisurely breakfast and see what it’s doing then — we’ll take a row to the nearest bar and see then — we’ll sleep the beer off through this afternoon and see — we’ll go back to the bar and try again to-morrow — Good night and what a start!

Day 3. Thank God for the sun, there is some excitement about our preparations; it is this for which we have waited so long; there’s really no hurry because we can’t get out until it ebbs about noon. Wind moderate, a reach down the harbour, short tacks through Mudeford and we’re out, set for Hengistbury Head. Bournemouth hangs in the afternoon haze, the sandwiches are eaten, all is peaceful, but there’s no wind. She seems to go a little faster when pointing to Swanage, we can always go to Poole another day so Swanage it is. Never moored there before but crew did a reconnaissance during a wife-type holiday last year and knows where to lay.

Our usual strange port drill has worked well; pick up the first convenient buoy, make a cup of tea, assemble the coracle, row ashore, then ask permission. A local member assured us no one will object, then discovered it’s his own mooring we are on! Well, he can’t change his mind now, can he?

Day 4. Wish crew would give me a definite yes or no to this Lulworth plan. It’s a fine morning and the forecast is good but how about this St. Albans Head. The chart says “Keep close in and miss the race”. The tide will be in our favour later this morning so expect we’ll drift along and take a look. We are around Durleston Ho and sailing into a light wind, it’s a hard and deserted coast between these two heads; I’ll stand on the foredeck and look at this race; it’s a bit rough but the sun is warm and we’ll soon be through on the inside passage. Trouble is I can’t see any inside passage, maybe it’s round the head, it does set to the west on the ebb; not to worry, the wind is against us so we can always go back and that’s what we must do because they’re breaking right up to the rocks. Pity about Lulworth, in fact, pity we’re here at all!

Now we’ve turned about, the wind is not as strong as the tide, we’re being swept into that stuff stern first. I am a fool not to have realised the strength of the tide, it’s near springs and about full ebb. I can put up with a lot when the sun is shining, but the truth is I’m scared! If we can’t get out I prefer to go the bow first. She’s tearing down the side of these troughs, wonder if she could live in there; wish we could ask someone. The outboard! that’s it, I give up, let’s pull that little starter cord. Thank Seagull, she’s off, but we’re still not getting out of this terrifying race. Oh, if only the wind would freshen; now, calm yourself, we have taken several nasty ones and have shipped no water; try the alternative, sail straight out to sea, that will make the most of the wind and we can creep along the edge of the race and then get round it. Must get a bigger motor, poor little thing is screeching away but seems ineffective. There is a small merchantman off the end of the race, didn’t see her before, she’s stopped, must be watching us, whoever you are we are grateful, but what about my boat — stop thinking about such things, perhaps she’s quite happy about it, can’t say I am, specially when she rolls down these steep seas. Those rocks are further away now, just how long is this race. The merchantman is moving off, they must think we’re all right. We’ve been in here for half an hour and the race can’t be so bad out here.

Not sure if we’re through it or round it, but thank God we’re out of it. The next time I pass this way I’ll choose my tides with more care. Don’t fancy going back now, so it’s Lulworth or bust. I’ll leave the engine on for an hour, no more chances this day. Should be able to see the cove soon, it’s so hazy, don’t really know what it looks like from this apparently continuous stretch of white cliff, out from the cove comes the Weymouth Belle packed with her trippers. Get a fix on that spot and hold her to it, less a bit for drift — scientific navigation this.

Hook over, brew up, and I don’t care how we get back, right now let’s wallow in this unique piece of Dorset under the June sun.

Day 5. Plan is to get a couple of miles out, pass outside the St. Albans race and head for Swanage. Trouble is, wind is light and visibility hazy. Don’t think we’re making enough progress to make the passage on this tide, not to worry, not due back until Sunday, we’ll have a day in the channel instead. This is new to us, we’re out of sight of land. I’ve carried this compass many miles but never been dependant on it before. We’ll do the simple manoeuvre out on this course and back the opposite way.

Sun grows hotter, but the mist doesn’t clear. Seems ages ago since we went about but still can’t see the coast, I suppose this compass is all right. There’s Kimmeridge buoy — it’s gone again. Sure I saw it, yes, there it is, we’re on course and before cups of tea we’ll swim again in that crystal clear water of Lulworth Cove. Water is cold, the sun illuminates beautiful seaweed patterns on the bed — I could put up with a lot of this. A delightful old boat just sailed in single-handed, eighteen foot I would say, plus bowsprit, only thing that spoils her is an inflated dinghy towing behind. Wonder if he could make a coracle to fit over his cabin; I do envy that cabin but if I can’t have both, my first choice is my coracle. Must find some better beer tonight, didn’t like that stuff we had last night. Old salt at the bar says we can get through the race easily about 1300 hrs tomorrow; he also says we arrived too late yesterday and left too late this morning — how the devil does he know when we arrived or left, he must have had an eye on us all the time.

Day 6. Wind a little fresher and from the west, just right; I reckon two hours to St. Albans and look like we’ll make it. Trouble with going round at slack water is the tide will be full before we reach Swanage. Wonder if we should wait in Chapman’s Pool until 1900 hrs. don’t like hanging about on this coast, we’ll anchor beyond the race if the tide’s too strong for this wind. They say the cliff is so steep below water you can sail round the point and touch the rock with your hand. I won’t try it, I’ll be satisfied just to be east of this head. Not a sign of a race, never believe it was the same place that scared us before; but suddenly the tide seems foul, sails drawing well but we’re hardly moving. Water is very disturbed, nothing alarming, just wish we could get a couple more knots. Patience sailor, she’s going round the head. Thought Seacombe cliff might be an anchorage until next tide but we’re moving faster now and there is enough sea to make hanging on a hook unpleasant, let’s have a sandwich and a can of beer.

Still misty, can see one measured mile marker but can’t see the next. There’s Anvil Point lighthouse, Durleston Head and we have done it. Could use a cup of char and Durleston bay is sheltered and calm, just the place to wait for the tide. There’s a kettle fish, do fine for Junior’s budgerigar, it’s all slimy, not yet completely fossilised; never seen one like that before; thought we were going to drop the hook, may as well get to Swanage now. Better go round the mark of Peveril Point though I’m sure there’s enough water inside. Fact is we’re not moving; no wonder — there’s a very fast tide over these rocks. If we had any sense we’d go back to that sheltered bay instead of floundering about out here. Sure I felt us touch a rock, I’m getting out of here; don’t care who is looking I am using the outboard.

That was a fine sail up to Durleston but after that the command showed itself lacking in experience, next time do a little more thinking! Still, you make a good cup of tea. Crew has got his head down on the boards, think I’ll join him till next tide. Have I been asleep for two hours? Job to believe it, the wind has freshened — 4, I should think — and blowing straight to Hengistbury Head. Reef in? No, made our mistake for to-day, can’t go wrong now. Away on our last leg, wind stronger than I thought, will have to heave to and reef. She’s still difficult to steer, suppose one day I’ll learn to sail a following wind. Is that a rowing dinghy in the middle of Poole Bay trying to get to Swanage, surely they know the tide is on the flood? They’ll never make it, better go over and see. Holiday makers I reckon, hired a dinghy off Swanage beach, motored over to Bournemouth, ran out of petrol half way back and now think they can row home. Better not tell them what chance they have, but I must do something — notify the coastguard, that’s what I’ll do, Poole is the nearest phone. Strong wind on the beam, she’s tearing into Poole, first time we’ve sat out all week, better catch that ferry right, don’t fancy having to put about for anyone just now. I’m in a hurry and my little boat senses the urgency. The nearest club is the Royal Motor Yacht, hope they won’t mind me approaching, will come up behind their lovely launch and run along the jetty. My squelching wet feet are hardly the thing for this carpet, it’s all pink gin and reefer jackets, but I’m sure they’ll lend me their phone. Not only the phone, the secretary’s office. All resources are at my disposal. Do I think the coastguard should call the lifeboat? Well, I didn’t expect that question, but I must make it clear to him that this is not my responsibility; I’ll give him their position, the rest is up to him. Well done, Royal Motor Yachts a can of beer for the scruffy character from the little sailing boat. To the lee shore of Brownsea for to-night, we’ll take the ground and enjoy the shelter. No pub tonight but the stew is good, wonder if those fellows are still rowing towards Swanage.

Last Day. Wish we could sail back to Christchurch, but crew must be back tonight so better play safe. Over to Parkstone Club, they’re always very good about using their slip. Difficult place in a strong sou’wester and not a buoy available. Wind too strong for my little engine, thank goodness we manage to get a line around a post. Yard skipper says she will be all right for three hours. Just got time to bus to Christchurch and get the trailer. Anchor warp on to the stern, other end on the bumper, haul her up the slip, trailer round the sharp end, winch at the ready, a quick hose down and get out of the way of the members. Will ring the coastguard, must know what happened to that dinghy. So they got back without help, four hours after we spoke to them; I bet they were tired, still I did what I could and the coastguard seemed pleased that we were interested. He kept a watch on them all the time and I think I was right to report them.

Crew’s turn to pay so we’ll stop for the last drink. It’s been a good cruise and there are a couple more places into which I am proud to have sailed the Association’s burgee.