The boat, Hronrad, is a fifteen-foot Morag, a clinker dinghy, six foot in the beam. She has been slightly altered, by the addition of small side-decks and stern-deck, a skeg, and a mizzen. The boat is gunter-rigged, and I have fitted a longer gaff than the original rig had. Sail area with mizzen is about 120 square feet. About a hundredweight of ballast, half of it water, is carried, in addition to the steel plate and drop rudder. Auxiliary power consists of a pair of nine-foot oars.

The first part of the cruise took place during the Whitsun holiday week, May 1978. On Friday May 26th I arrived at Heswall by train and bus, loaded with gear, and walked out to the boat at the mooring at 11.30 hours BST. The tide was high at 1410, and made its first appearance at Heswall at 1250. After the first rush up the gutter had eased I rowed against it to a mooring, in a wider part of the gutter, where I set sail. The 1300 forecast was variable 3 or less. Actually there was a westerly which allowed me to tack out down to Hilbre Island. It was quite choppy where the shallow bank runs out from Lime Wharf. At 1700 I tacked quite close inshore among the west Kirby moorings, and then out again past the Welshman buoy, which marks the junction of the Welsh Channel with the Swash which runs out past Hilbre. Here the seals were lying on their uncovered corner of the West Hoyle Bank, making a great noise. I tacked down the Swash, round the northern end of Hilbre, and ran up to anchor in the Hilbre gutter opposite the first of the houses on the island. It was a quiet sunny evening. I got the tent up and made supper. I dried out on the sand at 1900.

Saturday May 27th. The forecast of variable 3 or less continued, but at Hilbre there was mist and no wind. The mist persisted all day, and much of the time I could not see the shore of the island, a hundred yards away or less. As my next hop crossed the Mersey opposite the Liverpool docks, I regarded clear weather as essential. I had a short sail up the gutter in the afternoon, but otherwise stayed put for the day. I was visited by an interesting canoeist, who is building a twenty-five foot sailing canoe with outrigger. I also talked to a bait-digger who told me a body was washed up here on the previous day!

Sunday May 28th. Same forecast, but all clear now at Hilbre. I sailed at 0645 BST, and had a fair wind out in the direction of the angle in the Swash marked by buoys HE 1 and HE 6; there was a boat fishing in the gutter near Hilbre, and two cruising boats came in to the Swash from the direction of the Mersey. I set a course of 70º mag., which was the closest I could sail. There was considerable tidal drift to the north. At 0800 I was within sight of the Deposit buoy. At 0900, I decided to make for the Rock Gut as a way into the Rock Channel. I thought I would be able to get into the Mersey without going quite to New Brighton. I could not; the horrible rocky rubble of the revetment continued all the way. I tacked, with rather more wind now. It was a clear, sunny day, and as the tide began to flow in helping me it became an enjoyable sail.

I approached the Rock Channel, where I could see boats at anchor. I could also see boats sailing in the Mersey, just the other side of the revetment. At last came a tack which I could hold right past the end of this rocky bank which forms the training wall for the Mersey shipping channel, to sail between it and the New Brighton lighthouse. At this moment the Isle of Man boat passed down the channel - I sailed out into the Mersey in a lull in the shipping, and was able to sail right across to the Bootle docks without trouble. Others are not as frightened of the traffic here as I am, to judge by the number of boats out sailing. I kept close to the sands on the eastern shore, inside the training revetment on that side, which was already well under water. It was midday, and the tide was flooding against me, but luckily the south-easterly wind had strengthened so that I could maintain steady progress. This was just right, as I did not want to arrive too early at the entrance to the Alt.

On the shore shelduck were paddling, and farther on there were people on the sands. I watched the numbers of the buoys I was passing - 20, 18, and 16. Soon after this I was opposite the Hall Road beach mark at Blundellsands, and by 1300 I was heading in for the Outer Corporation Mark, a beacon at the end of the sewer revetment which makes the southern wall bounding the Alt gutter. It was still dry, but soon the water ran up. I photographed the mark, and then went on as far as the right-angled band near the shore where the gutter turns north. I noticed that one should take care to follow the marks carefully, as there is a great deal of rocky debris on the banks. The chart in the Morecambe Bay Sailing Association guide, and the letter I had some years ago from the Secretary of Blundellsands Sailing Club were both very helpful.

I continued drifting and sailing with the first rush of the tide up the narrow gutter. Moored boats were not yet afloat, which led to my first mishap. One of the sailing cruisers was heeled over so far that even on the edge of the channel farthest from her my gaff caught her rigging. I was swung round out of control in the tide, and my mizzen then caught the yacht's shrouds, and cracked at the foot of the little mast. I was glad it was the mast and not its bracket which had gone, as it was longer than necessary. I anchored and got out my tool box, and began to saw off the broken part. The friendly owner of a small cruiser named Odin came over to offer help, or the loan of tools. I was all right for these, but was glad to accept his offer that I should make use of the facilities of Blundellsands Club. It was lucky that the owners of the boat I had fouled came along just then, and I was able to make sure I had done no damage to their rigging.

By 1500 I could row up to the Clubhouse hard, where I anchored. After initial unfriendliness on the part of the club steward, I was able to get water and phone home. I walked along the shore to look at the entrance of the River Alt where it flows out through the low dunes near Hightown. This shore is well clear of the industrialised part of the Mersey, a quiet corner apparently only well known to the locals. Back aboard I was about to cook supper when I was invited ashore for drinks. The people who hailed me had been among those I saw sailing near Hilbre in the morning. Others were intending to sail for a day at Hilbre at five the following morning.

It seems that visiting boats are very rare here. They also told me that they know very little about the Lancashire coast, which they rarely visit. Their cruises range from North Wales to the Hebrides, but they avoid the Ribble and Southport. They told me that on the neap tides which prevailed at the time I would not be able to sail even a dinghy out due west from the Club, but would have to go back to the Outer Corporation mark by the gutter. The Formby Channel, they said, no longer exists, but I could turn northeast by the Gamma flats near the wreck of the Penrhyn, at any time when I could sail up to the Outer Corporation Mark.

Getting back on board was a wet business. I had not brought my toy inflatable ashore, as I was assured I could easily paddle back up to my knees only. This was true, but not opposite the slip where I first tried. However, I needed a wash, and by 2100 I had had supper and was in my sleeping bag in my root berth, which extends under the foredeck on the port side, handy for the galley which is on the starboard side close beside it. Monday May 29th. I lit the primus at 0430. There was too much water in the boat but I never did find any specific leak. The mystery was really only increased by the way the leak would cure itself completely and them reappear throughout the summer. There was very little wind, and that southerly, so I rowed. I cut across the bank before reaching the bend in the channel by the sewer pipe, and saw the boats setting out for Hilbre as I reached the main Crosby Channel. There was quite a lot of shipping, giving uncomfortable washes, and I was glad to reach Gamma float, where the Crosby Channel swings out north-west, and I continued north. I could just make out the Formby Beacon, though the shore was barely visible a mile away in the haze. There was a gentle southerly air, and warm sun - a very pleasant sail, out of sight of land all the way across the Ribble estuary. I wondered if I might see the training walls for the Ribble shipping channel. I saw boats of various kinds coming out at that point, and a red beacon, but the walls must have been well covered. I set my small blue genoa goose-winged with the jib, and at one point was sailing neck and neck with a twenty-five footer with spinnaker set. I saw guillemots, and at one point a pigeon tried unsuccessfully to come aboard. At 1130 I saw the misty shape on the port bow of the drilling rig which is working hereabouts. At 1150 I could see the misty line of the St. Anne's shore. At 1230 Blackpool Tower was in sight.

At 1300 the wind went west of south and I had to take the genny in. I used water out of my thermos flasks to brew tea and make a meal. At 1400 I was approaching Blackpool. The wind continued to veer, until I was on a tacking course. At 1500 I tacked right in to the beach beside Central Pier. I could hear the roar of humanity from half a mile out to sea. By 1600 the wind was so light that I rowed along the shore past Bispham and Clavelays, counting the beach groynes.

At 1915 I reach Rossall Point at last. By now there would be a strong tide against me out of the Wyre. Luckily a stronger breeze carried me over the bank close to the north shore of Fleetwood, with still plenty of water, so that I did not have to go all the way round by the Lune Deep. By 2000 I was in the Wyre entrance channel but the tide was sluicing out through the narrows, and I was very grateful for a tow in from a cruiser under power. I anchored on the edge of the mud upstream of Knott End ferry at 2040, and had Irish stew and grapefruit for supper.

Tuesday May 30th. I was up at 0545 to find a good southeasterly breeze blowing. I boiled an egg for breakfast, filled my thermos flasks with boiling water, and then stowed the tent. I sailed, keeping close to the eastern shore of the channel, to avoid the shipping. At the junction with Lune Deep there was quite a jobble on the water, and of course the wind died. I rowed, and was glad I had done so, for as soon as I was clear of the track of shipping, the Fleetwood trawler fleet came out. I had heard tales of their lack of sobriety on sailing days after even a two-day weekend, and this had been a Bank Holiday.

At 0830 I was sailing well towards Walney Island Lighthouse, which I could see. At 0900 I could see Piel Castle, and had to decide whether to visit it, or to carry on outside Walney Island to the Duddon. At 1000 I made my mind up, as progress was still good. I changed course to pass outside Walney, now about two miles away. At 1030 I could see the line of buoys marking the channel up to Barrow, and a line of boats fishing there. At 1100 I was running along the shore by the sand hills of Walney Island, and I brewed tea. Later I set the genoa and took some photographs.

By 1300 I was by the last house on Walney, and heading across the Duddon Estuary. It was not very clear, but I could now see the Cumbrian Hills, with Black Combe as a landmark beyond the estuary. Soon I could see the houses of Haverigg, where I was bound. The wind became more westerly about this time - the daily pattern. At 1400 I headed for Haverigg. There was no sign of the buoyed channel promised by the chart, but the bearings of Millom church spire and the Walney shore seemed to put me in the right place. At 1500 I was making for Millom church, running towards what I hoped was the channel. I found it behind a sand spit, and followed it up, with pauses to wait for water, to Haverigg. There is a large caravan site in the dunes near here, and the sandy beach which would be the best place to lie off the village is apt to be too frequented. I anchored on a most uneven muddy bottom, crossed by steep gutters and far from free from debris. Probably I would have been better off on the beach, but I made sure that all was smooth and clear around me as I dried out. So did the two elderly owners of a small motor fishing boat close by, who had come across from the Furness shore.

Wednesday May 31st. The forecast was 3 - 4 south-east. I sailed at 0730, and conversation with others getting ready to make sail suggested that a number of boats were bound for Ravenglass, as I was. I headed out of the harbour, close-hauled, and then could sail free out of the estuary clear of Haverigg Point. At 0800 I set a course to clear Selker Rocks. By 0900 the wind had freshened to about force 4, and I was making very good progress. I measured distance-off from Black Combe, and was about a mile offshore. At 1000 I saw two buoys off Selker Point, and heard the bell, although the chart only marks one buoy here. The bearings of the saddle of Bootle Fall made it clear that I was right about my position. I set a course for the entrance to Ravenglass, taking a bearing on Muncaster Fell. This then disappeared into the mist. I sailed closer inshore as I did not want to be carried past the entrance by the tide while I was still too far out to see it.

I could soon see the blockhouses of the firing range, which mark the way into the channel. I was under shellfire at this point. I imagine it was aimed far out to sea, but it sounded just like the effects for "Oh what a lovely war" turned up to full volume. At 1130 I reached the second blockhouse on the shore, and ran in. The wind now went westerly. I used the directions in the Morecambe Bay Sailing Association guide, but could actually see the way in once I had identified the place to look for it. The tide was running out still, just about at low water by the time I dried out just before reaching the red flag warning that firing was in progress. I crossed a rocky bar on which my dropped rudder-blade touched, stretching right across the channel near where a less extensive ridge is shown on the sketch chart.

Aground for several hours, I had a meal and even a wash, so hot was the sun. Then I went for a walk along the sands near where there were gulls and terns nesting. They warned me off noisily. The dunes here are bird reserves, and I suppose the existence of the range helps to keep the place quiet, in the sense of being unfrequented by visitors.

At 1630 I ran up with the tide. There was much more wind, and it became quite squally, and went round to the south-east. In the narrow channel I was swept onto uncovered spits by the tide, as I had only jib and mizzen set. Finally I rowed the last stretch along the channel of the River Mite, which runs west of Ravenglass village. There is a splendid smooth sandbank to the west of this channel, where I finally anchored.

I had reached by favourite estuary, and here I left the boat for the next two months. I had carried an eighteen pound fisherman anchor as well as my usual fourteen pound CQR, and I dug both of these in. Enquiries from other boat owners who have moorings here revealed that no one would be concerned about where I left the boat. She remained quite undisturbed until I returned in July. I went home by train, another advantage of Ravenglass being that it is on a railway with through trains to the London main line.