The morning of Saturday June 17th appeared not very promising, so I rose later than intended. The sun broke through for a moment and the decision to try for Newtown Rally was confirmed by the recorded weather forecast: NE 4 - 5; a fair wind!

Rainbow, a Drascombe Dabber, was boarded at her moorings 3 miles up the river Itchen at 10.15 and ready to leave at 11.00.

11.05 and the ebb half gone, first rowing, then motoring some 1½ miles along the river because the wind would be contrary along the difficult stretch between Northam Bridge and Kemps’ Marina, sail was set just beyond at the next bend. Reefed main was used. Following an experiment of the previous weekend, the mizzen had been left behind in Dyer’s Yard. Rainbow sped out of the river and hardened up for a brisk sail down Southampton Water. Speed was very good, the wind just forward of the beam, and I hoped to be at Calshot by 12.30. A dinghy was capsized off Netley with a rescue launch standing by.

By the time Shell Mex jetty was reached, gusts were proving quite difficult and, there not being many craft in sight off Hamble Point, it seemed too rough to continue. The wind was even fairer on the return against the ebb and I could watch without too much concern for Rainbow as a dismasted dinghy was ignominiously towed back to Netley Hard.

A bare mile from the river mouth, the wind seemed less severe, and a disconsolate feeling overcame me. A fortnight previously, Chichester Rally had been attempted, but abandoned off Hill Head because of contrary winds. Now, with a fair wind, here was Newtown also being abandoned. Brian and Roddy would not think much of this! Jim Smith, the South Coast Secretary, would, I know, have approved of my decision that other weekend to nip up the Hamble and spend a quiet night well above the Bursledon bridges.

With a will of her own, Rainbow sneaked up into the wind, tacked, and started off down Southampton Water again.

At Hamble Spit, a rescue boat stood by as a dinghy was being righted with difficulty in the shallow muddy water.

The wind picked up considerably off Calshot, and at 14.00 the gybe was made just a hundred yards off the light vessel. Stansore Point was looming up and with it a lumpy sea. The tide had turned. The penalty of indecision had thus to be paid, and I had just made up my mind to turn into Beaulieu when a ‘Solent Rescue’ launch buzzed up to Rainbow. They had probably witnessed her gyrations as the main was handed and a few minutes under bare poles were tried. These soon showed themselves to be insufficient to round the point, and foresail was hoist, shackled to the stemhead to allow better control than would be achieved from the bowsprit.

Ridiculously, the first hail was taken to be an invitation to a barbecue! But, however light headed as I must have been, there was sufficient presence of mind to reply, “I beg your pardon?”

Coming within yards only, they asked if I knew of the probability that it would blow force eight later in the afternoon. Yelling “Beaulieu!” and pointing to my buoyancy aid-inflated chest, a cheery “O.K.” was received and the duo raced off, radio mast whipping, in search of their next victim.

Beaulieu River was entered quite easily, the flood helping along the short stretch that brought the wind abeam. Under the small foresail alone it is doubtful whether this could have been possible from the bowsprit end.

A gloriously sunny afternoon was spent, windbreak erected, about half a mile from the swashway and very close inshore. To my surprise, a lot of sail appeared off Cowes late in the afternoon, and at first I supposed the wind to have eased. It was, of course, the end of the Round the Island Race. A few craft ran on into Beaulieu. High up in the blue sky, light cloud could be seen, apparently moving against the wind. Having read that this is a forecast of the wind to come, it seemed wise to change berth. The only chance was to go upriver beyond the dreaded Bucklers Hard and snuggle in behind some trees somewhere.

Rainbow’s wind break is also her trysail, and this was handed and properly re-hoist. Blue in colour, 35 square feet of ex-heavy weather jib, it fits exactly the mast; the clew is a few feet up in the air with a single sheet.

This proved ideal, and at 20.00 hours, with little flood left, Rainbow proceeded towards a square rigger moored upriver just beyond the swashway. Studying the little buoys marking the channel it seemed just possible to make the winding course. With the tide well up, a dinghy should have no problem.

Under the bows of the square rigger, Rainbow dashed outside, passing just the first and last buoys a yard or so on the wrong side with the plate half down.

For two or three minutes it did not seem too bad, but as a few experimental gybes were made and a couple of tacks aborted, Rainbow rapidly made way out towards Thorness Bay only 2½ miles away on the island. This course would take us clear of Warren Flats, and West Lepe buoy was left well to starboard, as was the extensive Wave Power Testing Station moored nearby. The thing must have been working overtime!

Visibility was excellent, with both Hill Head and the Needles to be seen. Two sail and a Thoresen car ferry were all that appeared to share the Western Solent with Rainbow, though on reflection at some time during the 3½ mile blow down dead to leeward a Lymington ferry must have made a crossing or two. From midway onwards the seas began to pile up, but a Drascombe Dabber without too much sail and with the plate up rides waves very well, and only a very little water came on board when it became necessary to bring the wind abeam to get on the transit to the minuscule buoy that marks Newtown River.

For the popularity this river enjoys, the size of the two buoys provided is ridiculous. This year, however, it was even better perched than previously.

The orange car ferry was on collision course, and although in those empty seas she probably would not have given her customary five hoots, I turned tail and went back towards the mainland, allowing the sail to slack after reaching a safe distance. A few minutes wait and Rainbow gybed again to pass a quarter mile or so under her stern. The wash was completely absorbed by the seas and passed unnoticed.

From just a little east of the transit line (Calshot chimney - edge of tree clump at Beaulieu) the small red buoy was spotted fine on the starboard bow, and course was changed. Newtown gravel banks are very hard. (I know!).

The lilywhite ‘Y’ front had, in fact, been picked up some time before, and as Rainbow turned leaving the buoy only yards on the wrong side, quite safe at this stage of the tide, the leeway became noticeable, and soon the inshore perch was safely nestled in its crutch. To stay on course, the plate was lowered to counter leeway.

Having expected a little shelter from the gravel banks, it was alarming to discover that, although now only 3 or 4 feet high, the waves were frothier and a discouraging brown colour. This period was short lived, however, and soon Rainbow was safe between the entrance banks and weaving her way through craft moored in the river. From the cockpit of one vessel a grinning fellow enquired whether I had had a nice sail. “A bit choppy!” brought a laugh as Rainbow raced upriver at four knots plus.

Last year the meet was changed on arrival, and most craft went on to Shalfleet, with only a few staying the night at Western Haven. Approaching the junction, a decision had to be made, as the return would be next to impossible for the little Seagull outboard. Perhaps wrongly, Shalfleet was elected, but passing the entire length of the creek until Rainbow was quite alone, I failed to see a DCA burgee or recognise a familiar DCA craft. As expected, weed caused the outboard to fail, and there was no rowing against that strength of wind, so the tent was erected about 22.00 hours in a relatively quiet corner and a peaceful night passed. Not so for the chap at the phone box the next morning: whilst waiting to make our calls he spoke of being up half the night trying to stop his dinghy from damaging the topsides of his yacht!

In the morning, the still fresh NE wind had abated enough to allow me to row down to the junction in search of Brian or Jim or anybody flying a DCA burgee. LET’S HAVE ‘EM BIGGER!

A yacht at the junction advised me that no dinghies had gone up the previous evening, and that mooring was prohibited. Rainbow bare-poled it the entire length at about 2 knots, a delightful ride all the better for a complete absence of moored craft. No-one in sight, I tied up at the bridge and walked a short way, not finding the pub close to hand in either direction. Tide was dropping fast, and I only just managed to get Rainbow away again. There was no weed here but the outboard still failed. Rowing, even with the current, was soon too much against the wind, and ½ mile downstream Rainbow dried out against the shore for my lunch.

More walks on shore amongst waving cornfields and in the bordering woodlands, startling pheasant and pigeon; sitting in the shade at the waterside watching waders feeding; a wonderful day quickly passed and the tide started to return, covering the birds’ kneecaps in the process.

The trysail was erected as a sunshade and tea was brewed whilst the tranny was tuned in to the 17.55 forecast.

Dover, Wight: NE 5 - 6, locally 7. RUBBISH!

As I sat munching my cake, the wind stopped rustling the tree tops. Seconds later the trysail flapped against me: the wind was SW. Was this the prediction from Beaulieu made true?

Earlier that day I had counted the 49 pieces of gear not directly connected with sailing, scattered about the boat. Some time was wasted packing and washing up before sail could be set. Wind was very light and the tide contrary; the outboard had been looked at in the afternoon and behaved well after the removal of weed from two tiny holes in the prop shaft. 19.30 saw us in the Solent, again almost empty, although there were fewer craft in the river, so doubtless they had enjoyed a good sail in the sun and wind in spite of warnings on the local radio to take especial care as yesterday several vessels had been in difficulties.

The sun set behind Luttrell Tower, an attractive folly just a mile from Calshot, and the last of the wind and tide barely allowed Rainbow to make it, so oars were taken up, and at 22.00 tent was erected to spend the night in Calshot Creek before a routine return to her berth up the Itchen in the morning.

Better late than never!