I must go down to the sea again, The wind, the mud and the rain, I don't know why the hell I do it, There's so much misery, cold and pain.

Actually in 1978 there was less misery, cold and pain than I have known in previous years. I am only miserable when I nearly wreck my boat and that wasn't until September. I was cold on one occasion and in pain once but these two events add up to only 9 miles out of 410 sailed, which is just over 2%. Having got myself involved in statistics I may as well stay there. Out of 30 launchings, 20 were solo and 10 with, or as, crew and disaster struck on 5 voyages. On only one of these disaster voyages was I solo; of the four crewed disasters twice there was a female on board and twice it was an all male crew which proves that solo sailing is safer, but on one occasion a female did provide an additional bonus.

1978 got off to a very good start. I was still smoking my Xmas cigars until well into January; this gave me a sore throat, cured eventually by swallowing lots of Tyrozettes. The containers, in fact any modern plastic pill box, make very good match holders when a bit of striking paper is stuck inside the lid. The pill boxes are also very good for holding salt, torch bulbs etc.

Disaster No. 1 barely qualifies for a mention. I wasn't miserable because it wasn't my boat, I was only cold before I scrambled on board and there was no pain. Way back in February Jack Evans phoned and asked if I would like to crew for him at Easter. I had sailed with Jack the previous year, all the way from the River Orwell to Ramsgate and was very impressed with his seamanship, his navigation and his Drascombe Lugger - far superior to my humble Mirror 10. The plan was to launch from Pin Mill on the Sunday evening, find a mooring and sail at crack of dawn on the ebb to Walton Backwaters before the wind really got up and then return on the Tuesday. When launching a small boat everyone knows the formula D = TxRxTanØ, where D is the distance from the water in yards, T is the number of minutes to park the car and prepare the boat, R is the rate of rise of the tide and Ø is the slope of the beach. After 10 years experience with this formula one drops the dinghy at a certain point, and when one is ready to launch there is the water lapping round the hull as one steps in dry shod and sails away. With a quarter of a ton of boat to deal with things are not quite the same. Boat and trailer were deposited at the water's edge with an incoming tide and 15 fathoms of line tied to the trailer. Jack on board rigged the boat while I held the free end of the line. I was wearing knee length wellies which soon filled with water and I was half way up my thighs before Lotus floated. Cold and wet I climbed on board at 2300 hr.. and fell asleep. The second part of the disaster followed quite naturally, we were so tired next morning that we overslept, looking over the side at 0700 hrs. we were high and dry on the mud.

This meant a wait of three hours to float off on the incoming, tide and therefore a fight against a freshening wind and the tide down to Harwich. By 1130 we were at sea in a steady drizzle with the wind increasing. We both decided that it was dangerous to go on so tied in a couple of reefs in the main and retraced our tracks. At Harwich the wind was about force 8 so down with the main to speed along, under jib and mizzen only to within a mile of Pin Mill when the jib split. However we motored up to Pin Mill and reached the Butt and Oyster before closing time. But be warned all ye owners of furling jibs; the weather gets at the jib leach when it is furled for any length of time and weakens the cloth. The three counter measures, as pointed out by Dolphin Sails, Church Road, Harwich, (an excellent firm who repaired the damage at negligible cost in one hour) are either to take down the jib, or cover it, or sew a tabelling along the leach.

After this there were seven lovely solo sails until 4th June. I promised my wife that we would return by 2030 hrs. In fact we returned at 0130 hrs. next morning and my wife believes the reason for the delay. Rosamund is a not unattractive widow and we launched from Orford at 10.30 arriving, at Snape Bridge by 1400. Great achievement, thwarted in the past by unpredictable tides, broken centre boards, too long in pub etc. Progress on the return was fine in a N.E. force 3 until at Aldeburgh the wind dropped to absolutely nothing. Five miles of rowing takes much longer, and is more painful, than five miles of sailing. Half way to Oxford the tide changed against us.

The weekend of 17th/18th June was by no means a disaster but the planned date for my Ouse Cruise. No one responded to my plea for information so I motored to Yorkshire in April with my home made sextant, (thank you J Quantrell, bulletin No. 78) and computed that the clearance at Cawood Bridge would vary at Springs from 11 ft to 16 ft. At Selby (road and rail) from 15 ft to 23 ft, Boothferry Bridge from 15 ft to 24 ft, the M62 gave about 80 ft, and Goole railway from 18 ft to 35 ft. Anyway that's all theoretical stuff, and 17th June was nearer to neaps. Reed's gives no information at all on those bridges, so if any members have any more information I'm sure it would be useful., (what about a National register of Bridge Clearances, Joan?) The White Cross Power and Ski Boat Club, Cawood do not encourage the casual launching of dinghies from their ramp and quoted me £5 to launch and recover. Driving up the A1 in a force 6 on the Saturday afternoon I asked myself several times why didn't I do the sensible thing and turn back? Arriving at Cawood I phoned the bridge keeper at Selby. "Did he think that a 17 ft mast would clear his bridge at 2100 hrs?" "Easily" he replied, "I'll be looking out for you, and if I think there isn't enough headroom I'll lift the bridge". Launched from the ski club at 17.55 hr. under jib only, with the gaff stowed I needed 11 ft 4 ins to clear Cawed bridge. This I did with a couple of feet to spare one and a half hours before H.W. The Ouse scenery is beautiful, woods and pastures run down to the water's edge, except of course by the industrial towns of Selby and Goole - and there are no moored boats and buoys to mar one's progress.

During the whole weekend I saw only five other pleasure craft. But the Ouse is like thick gravy running out to sea at high speed for about 8 hours and flooding for less than 4 hours; a surprise for me who was used to a D.M.R. of about 6 hours. The wind dropped, making. me half an hour late at Selby, however the extra few inches of clearance would be useful. The bridge loomed up, surely there wasn't 17 ft of headroom? The bridge keeper stood on his platform, arms folded. He didn't wave a friendly greeting, he didn't open the bridge either and with 25 yards to go it looked like 14 ft at the most, so down with the gaff to about 5° above the horizontal and the burgee almost scraped the wooden beams. Same at the railway bridge, but I was through into the dull dreary world of shipyards. This was followed shortly by more pleasant scenery until it was too dark to see. The almost full moon clouded over at midnight and the tide continued to pour seawards with red and green lights at every bend in the river. At 0215 hr. Boothferry bridge was passed with 3 feet clear. The anchor was dropped over the side before the motorway bridge was reached, four and a half hours sleep and then away on the fresh ebb.

At the island West of Hook, the widest channel is to port so I chose that and found several shallow spots. Goole railway bridge cleared the burgee by a couple of feet as I had computed. Now the wind varied between 1 and 4 and I was concerned that it might fail altogether so halted at Trent Falls at 1031. Took photographs, had an early lunch and waited for the flood to show itself. Long after it was due it was now 1430, I was just able to make headway in the very light wind. One hour and only a quarter of a mile later I resigned myself to another night on board. 31 miles before H.W. at Cawood in 5 hours appeared quite impossible. But that flood tide just sluiced up the river with me on it. Again no trouble at Goole bridge and again at the island beyond Hook I decided on the wider channel, where there was plenty of depth and I was through in 10 minutes. At Selby the bridge keeper again looked down and down came the gaff. It was now one hour to H.W. and only seven miles to go. My hopes rose and with a little bit of rowing made Cawood 15 minutes after the ebb had started. Twenty seven hours afloat, 62 miles made good, a very enjoyable and satisfying weekend and I was also very grateful that I didn't capsize in that fast flowing, dark brown, thick water.

Bridges fascinate me, or am I fascinated by what lies beyond the bridge? July lst/2nd was my only solo disaster. I have sailed up to Battlesbridge dozens of times in the past, but this weekend, after the Barge Inn had closed, it was down with the mast and row through the 8 ft bridge and keep on rowing for the next four miles until the hull grated on the shingle bottom and the oars touched both banks of the infant river Crouch. Another four miles of rowing early next morning before mast and sails were hoisted at Battlesbridge and then a glorious 15 mile sail with wind and tide down to the sea. On the return with wind, now force 6, and tide against each other and the mainsail reefed down I was very cold and very wet and was delighted after four miles when a fellow Hullbridge Y.C. man in a 27 ft cruiser offered me a tow.

Disaster No. 4 may be a record in mini cruising, 10 yards in 10 seconds; Chris had never sailed before but was keen to have a go. Applying D = TxRxTanØ to perfection on the Orwell at Alnesbourne Priory we both jumped aboard accompanied by lots of river coming, up through a hole in the hull where a large pebble had punctured the ply. That was the end of sailing for that weekend, but after repairing the hull I thought that this sort of thing could easily happen again, perhaps a long way from home. An addition to my cruising gear is now a thing like the old fashioned 'pot mender' made from two pieces of ply 2"x3" with a ½" hole drilled through the centre of each. Both pieces are faced with a rectangle of old inner tube rubber and the lot is clamped together with a ½" bolt and wing nut. It obviously will not fit every part of the hull but is better than nothing.

The latest, largest and most miserable disaster, (it was my boat) was with Michele, Ocean Youth Club, Sail Training Association and skipper of a Wayfarer on the local pond. The plan was to launch from Brightlingsea, sail up the Backwater, lunch at West Mersea, cross The Strood and down Pyefleet Creek, thus circumnavigating Mersey Island. At an earlier winter meeting at the little Ship Club the subject was planning a cruise, and Jack Whitby advised visiting a strange area first to have a look at shallows eddies obstructions etc. Never were wiser words spoken, although my thoughtsat the time were "Rubbish, dinghy cruising is dinghy exploration". I spoke to several friends about crossing The Strood with the mast down. "Fine," they all said, but I didn't go first to have a look. There is no way under the Strood. It is in fact a solid causeway carrying the B1025. As luck would have it we had very high Springs that weekend and the road was 2 feet under water. We shot along the side of the road looking for a gap in the fence. There it was, up helm, ease sheets, speed increasing, 20 yards to go, CRASH! We stopped dead, the centreboard had hit something, solid, head on. The casing, had tilted forward letting in water at its aft end, the front of the casing was pushed out completely letting in more water. Michele baled, I steered for the road and lowered sail. At least we were safe and on a road, Brightlingsea was 3 miles downwind or 16 miles by road. Michele was baling out faster than the water was coming in, I tied a line round the casing to hold it together, headed for a gap in the fence on the other side of the road. With spinnaker up and lots of baling we made port in under an hour. One thing I have never liked about the Mirror is it's dagger board and here was an opportunity to put in a pivotsing centreplate. This lost me two weekends of sailing, but 50 miles later I am certain the change is for the better. One can't spread out one's legs, it is true, but in very light winds when sitting on the leeward deck would result in too much weight on that side, one can sit in the middle of the boat on the centreboard casing.

The additional bonus was Janet; she had never sailed before so I thought a quick short trip up the Crouch from Hullbridge to Battlesbridge and return would be a good introduction. Janet turned up with a hefty plastic bag, which she hoped I would have room for. "What's in it?" I asked. "Just a snack in case we're hungry." That bag contained a bottle of wine, flask of coffee, large chunk of veal and ham pie, fruit etc.. We just kept on eating and drinking for two hours continuously, and she's keen to sail again!

My wife did sail with me just once this year, up the Deben to Waldringfield. "Did you enjoy it darling?" "It was alright" she replied. We weren't cold, wet, miserable or in pain. It was just normal dinghy cruising, marvellous, fantastic, superb. Roll on Spring 1979.