In the spring of 1951, circumstances arose which enabled me to enjoy that rarity in cruising, a one day trip, with absolutely no worries about “getting back”. Tela, the 14 ft. East Cowes OD. described in earlier Bulletins was to change her base from Southampton where she was lying ready fitted out to Bradwell on the R. Blackwater.

After some discussion it was decided to sail her round and the first hop, to Portsmouth, was completed by the other part owner and his wife. A month and more passed by without further progress, mainly due to weather and crewing difficulties, so that when an alternative route presented itself, it was without regret that we retraced our steps to Southampton, leaving Pompey at midnight under a brilliant moon and with a warm southwester. The next weekend saw Tela lashed down below two rowing eights travelling on a lorry to Marlow regatta (on the Thames) and the trip was really under way.

At Marlow some purple-faced efforts by several of our rowing club friends lifted Tela from the chest-high lorry and transferred her to the front of the rowing clubhouse. If at this stage she looked a trifle out of place, it was as nothing to her appearance when we had finished bringing along the gear — mast, boom, sails, oars, and all the multitude of bits and pieces that seem essential when cruising. All this in the midst of spotless white shorts, shirts, blue blazers, summer dresses and slightly amazed “Oxbridge” accents. We launched her quickly, heaped the gear in and paddled silently away, using our best feathering style, just to show them.

Downstream and out of sight we threw everything out on the bank and then re-stowed it properly. It was 11.00 by the time we set off in earnest, the two of us taking half-hour spells at the oars to keep the pace up in spite of the heat. We ate lunch under way but stopped at a riverside pub for a drink and subsequently wished we hadn’t — beer which tastes insipid even when you are hot and thirsty is poor stuff indeed.

During the afternoon we did a bit of rescue work; we found a bedraggled sparrow gamely trying to swim across the river. Halfway across when we came by, he was making heavy going of it so we pulled him out and put him ashore on someone’s lawn. He did not jump back in again so I guess we did the right thing.

The afternoon sun blazed down as we plugged on stopping only for the locks, when we managed to snatch a little rest while going down and paying our ninepences. Incidentally, all boats on the Thames are supposed to be licensed; we pleaded ignorance and that we were only passing through once, so we were let off with the ninepenny single toll.

Late in the afternoon we were approaching Windsor, or so we judged by the ever increasing number of Eton single sculls. About here we performed our second rescue. It seems that these lads put out without the seamanlike precaution of taking either a bailer or any form of buoyancy. One wee laddie was remarkably close to submerging, until we came alongside and bailed him out. Shortly afterwards we found a fair sized wooden crate floating gently downstream, forming a menace to navigation in general and the racing shells in particular. In our good Samaritan frame of mind it was only a minute’s work to heave it ashore through some bushes. However, the residents of Windsor are not all so public spirited — we were lucky to get clear before it came flying back over the bushes into the river.

In Windsor we tied up below the bridge and bought fish and chips for tea. It was getting late when we got through the lock and started on the long haul round the Royal Park. The knowledge that the lock keepers stopped work at sunset drove us on to the next lock, but we didn’t make it in time. To our relief we discovered that it was permitted to work the locks oneself after sunset, and free of charge. Halfway to the next lock we called it a day, and bedded down for the night.

We rose early on Sunday morning and were through the lock before the keeper was about, and had breakfast afterwards. Inwardly refreshed and outwardly cooled by the rain that was now falling, we plodded on against a moderate head wind. Sailing was out of the question due to the frequency of the bridges, so it was oars or towing until in the reach before Kingston, a compassionate motor boat owner gave us a pluck to Kingston bridge. It was our intention to leave Tela somewhere about here until next weekend and we tried first at the Tameris Club. Sad to record they were just not interested in a mere cruising dinghy so we pressed on to Teddington lock and passed through into tidal waters. A change in the type of boat on the river was noticeable immediately and so too was the reception we got at Tough’s boatyard — help yourself.

The following weekend the crew consisted of my brother-in-law and myself. We arrived Friday evening and dropped down to Richmond. There we spent the night near the half-tide lock. Passing through this next morning soon after it opened on the flood, we soon tried towing as apart from the nuisance of bushes on the bank, it was decidedly more efficient then rowing. Soon however the ebb began and we made good progress under oars, coming quickly to the Boat Race course and the London bridges. The ebb was really pouring out now, bridge after bridge being left astern with little effort. In fact in the Westminster and Waterloo area we were keeping out of the main stream in order to retain some control over the situation. Blackfriars, Southwark and London Bridges were soon behind us and we swung into a little jetty just upstream of Tower Pier, with a good two hours left to run.

Here we raised the mast and generally sorted out ready for sailing. Gray had to return home during the afternoon so on the evening ebb I pushed off alone and sailed under Tower bridge. It was a bit eerie, the deserted wharves lining the banks on either side leaving odd gaps through which the sultry evening breeze blew in fits and starts and in all directions. I was due to pick up Roger Downing next morning so I had to find a public landing place for the night. At Greenwich I hailed an ex-M.T.B. and asked the chap leaning on the rail where I could moor for the night. “Alongside,” he said so I rounded up and found that we could just make up over the tide until we crept alongside with everything set and drawing. Climbing aboard I found that the chap was alone and was in fact the shipkeeper of this navigation training ship. After a bite to eat which he kindly offered, we went ashore via the pier for a pint in the local and a phone call to Roger.

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny and shortly after breakfast he gave a hail from the shore. He was soon aboard and after expressing our gratitude to the shipkeeper, we shoved off on the ebb. About half of this was left to run, so that with little help from the wind we only reached Tilbury by midday when it turned.

After lunch tied up to the pontoon, we tried to progress against the flood but the blazing sun had dried up the breeze almost completely. Still it was very pleasant and in due course at 12.00 the ebb started again, enabling us to reach Southend pier by 2000. We were short of drinking water, and managed after a rather disheartening search, to get some from a caretaker on the pier. Thus equipped we used the last of the ebb to find a quiet spot on the S.W. corner of the Maplins for the night.

Sunday morning at 06.00 was not very cheerful. It was cold and cloudy but the wind was fair so we decided to press on before it got worse. It did! Within an hour we were engulfed in torrential rain but still the wind held in the S-S.E. quarter. In due course, the rain eased the clouds disappeared and were replaced by blue sky. The sea sparkled, the sun shone warmly to dry us out, the wind blew steadily over the quarter to give us a wonderful sail up the coast, picking our way from buoy to buoy until we reached the Spitway.

A gybe and short run took us through and left us with a broad reach into the Blackwater. The tide was flooding so we were confident of success now, until the wind dropped entirely. Not discouraged we pulled away for about an hour when it picked up again, still from the S.E. We relaxed again and sailed smoothly into Bradwell Creek right at the top of the tide, to complete a very satisfying trip.