At the crack of dawn on a cold foggy Saturday morning, August 1973, our dinghy cruise began. My eleven year old son John and I left Greenwich launching slip, which is available for public use and can be used at practically any state of the tide. We motored away in our Norwegian Vitting 14’ 6” sailing dinghy, the 3.9 hp Crescent outboard engine happily chugging away. The Vitting, lacking fore and side decks, is a very roomy boat, ideal for cruising in sheltered waters. Weighing 530 pounds and Bermudian sloop rigged, it carries 113 sq ft of sail, reefing being effected by rows of eyelets in main and jib. When fully reefed she rides like a duck, really dry and safe.

Arriving at the Worcester Merchant Navy training ship, which looks like an old galleon and lays just off Northfleet, we tied alongside a friend’s Lysander, and cooked and ate a hearty breakfast.

The water currents are very strong, especially at spring tides, and I do not recommend absolute beginners to sail on the lower Thames reaches until they have mastered their craft on a lake or similar safe environment, even though there is not the volume of commercial shipping on the Thames that there was in the 1950s and 60s. The water is much cleaner too: one even sees people bathing, sometimes. I really think the Thames is a fine small boat sailing area, and of course very near for Londoners.

At 11 am we motored off on the first of the ebb against a light easterly headwind. I throttled the engine right down as we proceeded through the Thames estuary to avoid slamming and shipping water in the wind-against-tide conditions. I don’t like using the engine, but we needed to make our first part of the journey in one day. As we rounded the Grain Spit sandbank, I kept in too close, and went aground; the sheer pin snapped. However, it did not take long to effect a repair, so we quickly carried on into the Medway Estuary and into a safe haven in Stangate Creek, where we dropped anchor for the night. We landed later on and enjoyed the Greenwich Yacht Club barbeque on the beach, which was being held that evening and lasted until midnight. There were many other craft in Stangate Creek that weekend as a rally was being held, but it was still very quiet and peaceful. Weighing anchor at 3 pm on Sunday, we set off on the last of the flood, destination Holehaven.

Our Vitting was fully reefed on main and jib as it was blowing fairly hard. The rocking motion sent John off to sleep as we punched through the estuary. Just past Canvey Island we turned up into Holehaven Creek and sailed about four cables in and dropped anchor. Always keep to the east bank as the west side dries out.

There is a fine pub at Holehaven which we usually visit for a few beers. We had arranged to meet some friends, so we rowed over to their Alacrity and, after enjoying a very nice meal which they cooked for us, we climbed into our sleeping bags and fell asleep under the stars.

Arising early next morning to catch the first of the flood, we were greeted by beautiful sunshine and a light easterly breeze. After a good breakfast cooked on board, we sailed off with all sail up: even the groundsheet came in handy, laced under the boom. As we ran westward, it seemed as though we were heading a small armada, for, strung out behind us, was a long line of assorted sailing craft, all returning to their various clubs and moorings. Just past Woolwich Free Ferry we spotted our friends’ Alacrity in trouble, so we towed him the last mile to Greenwich, and after casting him off we hauled out our dinghy — and that was the end to a perfect weekend.