My crew Dick Sutcliffe and I discovered that we had several things in common when we met whilst taking our coastal Navigational Certificate at our local college of further education — first, our enthusiasm for sailing; secondly, our comparative lack of sailing experience; and thirdly, that we both suffered from wives who are not enthusiastic sailors, and that is putting it mildly!

We were enjoying our classes, and wished to put into practice some of the theory that we had been learning and at the same time wanted to avoid becoming too unpopular at home: so we opted for a mini-weekend — Friday evening to Saturday evening — thus leaving one day free for the family. This meant that, to make the most of the time available, we had to sail at night, which had the benefit of trying out our new-found night navigational skills.

Our boat for the trip was Osprey, my Bermudan-rigged mahogany clinker dinghy 12’ 3” loa, with a foredeck which gives good dry stowage.

On Friday my wife set us up for our trip with an early supper of a couple of juicy steaks. We were on the road by 18.30, and arrived at Bradwell Marina at 20.00. Bradwell Marina possesses a good concrete launching ramp, and is a safe place to park your car. It was a fine evening, with a north-westerly force 2/3, so we decided to go ahead with our plan to sail to Brightlingsea, a distance of about 7½ miles. High tide at Bradwell was 2300, so we knew that we had to overcome initially both the last 2 hours of the flood and the wind on our nose. Nevertheless, we launched at 20.35 as we were anxious not to have to face the full force of the spring ebb when sailing into Brightlingsea. The one thing that I have learned above all others in the last two seasons is that, in small boats without an engine, it is essential to work the tides whenever possible if one hopes to sail any distance.

Rather to our surprise, we were the only boat on the water, so any fears of being run down subsided, although I did fit some rather feeble battery operated lights to the shrouds — more an act of faith than anything else.

Dick, who has ambitions as a navigator, had worked out a bearing from the chart on the Nass Beacon, but we could not see it. Eventually we saw a light which Dick declared must be it, though it seemed too far north when taking a transit with the lights of West Mersea. Indeed, this proved to be the case, because when we eventually came up to it, it turned out to be a street lamp on the end of East Mersea (so much for our night navigational skills). We had in the meantime realised our error, and, having headed towards West Mersea — identified by the lights of the village — decided to follow the shoreline, clearly visible by the light of the full moon.

This enabled us to obtain a good slant towards Brightlingsea; and it was very exhilarating yet relaxing after a busy week in London to glide along over the calm sea with a shaft of moonlight on our beam — Turner would have been in his element! We arrived at Brightlingsea half an hour after midnight, although the last 1.5 miles took us about an hour as we had to stem the ebb from the Colne running at 1½ knots. We encountered only one other vessel on passage — a small fishing vessel. We found no difficulty in finding the entrance to Brightlingsea with Dick following the pilot’s instructions and getting the two entrance markers in line.

We anchored a fair distance from the shore, close to an old fishing smack, as the tide was falling. As we planned to set off fairly early in the morning, we did not want to have to wait long for the flood tide to float us off the mud.

We dropped the jib, rolled the mainsail round the boom and erected the tent, quite possible from inside the boat. We lit the battery operated lamp and prepared for bed. There is a surprising amount of room to sleep, one either side of the centreplate and under the thwart. We were comparatively comfortable using sleeping bags over a groundsheet. At 6.30 we woke up to find a grand sunny day. I made a misguided expedition over the mud, which ended up my becoming barefooted, with my sailing boots in my hand and Dick doubled up with mirth. I know I can’t walk on water, but still believed I could walk on glutinous Essex mud. We then cooked bacon and eggs on our Gaz stove. Why does breakfast out of doors on a fine day always taste so much better than at home? We weighed anchor at 8.30 and had a splendid sail right up the Blackwater to Heybridge Basin, a distance of some 14½ miles, arriving at 11.45. The only incident was when the centreplate grounded in shallow water off East Mersea. We pulled up the centreplate and gybed into deeper water. We averaged just over 4 knots, having had the benefit of the flood, except when sailing out of Brightlingsea, and of a north-easterly force 3, which enabled us to broad reach then close haul virtually the whole way without tacking.

Although Osprey is a sedate dinghy, with a performance equal to that of a Mirror, we overtook many small cruisers. We then sailed back to Bradwell on the ebb — the wind freshened to force 4 and threw up quite a chop as the tide turned. We took quite a lot of spray aboard, but it was easily put back. By sailing slightly freer, we took less on board, and we could afford to do this because we were making plenty of ground, having the tide under us.

We were grateful that we had not encountered similar conditions the previous evening prior to bedding down, and made a mental note to obtain a better container for carrying food and also to use a plastic dustbin liner inside our so-called waterproof holdalls to protect our sleeping bags and spare clothes.

To enter Bradwell Creek, we had to stem the tide, and by this time wind had fallen to near calm — so out came a paddle to help us in, which immediately produced a gentle breeze. We arrived back at 14.50 hrs. So ended a splendid mini weekend during which we had covered 31 miles.

NOTE: Bradwell Marina — It is possible to launch at all states of the tide. The concrete ramp enables a heavy dinghy to be flooded onto the trailer, and the car can be backed right down to the water’s edge. Launching fee — official minimum £2, but the harbourmaster only charged me £1 on account of size of dinghy.

Restaurant, free parking and other club facilities are automatically available.