by Antony Sluce

After a very changeable week weather-wise, four members met up at Heswall on Saturday morning. Saturday had been forecast as the one fine day of the weekend. A light SE breeze was blowing, and Norman Skyrme, Peter Filshie, Joan Abrams and I set off running down the estuary just before the turn of the tide. Norman’s and Peter’s boats were Drascombe Luggers, Joan’s is a Morag and mine a Shetland Skiff. In no time we were through the moorings at West Kirby and Hilbre Island was emerging in more detail with a sandy cove facing us. The weather looked settled and we were tempted to press on to an anchorage just inside the lifeboat slip on the NE side of the island.

Almost as soon as we had anchored a line of black cloud came up against the wind and a fresh breeze set in from the NW. We were now in an exposed position facing Liverpool Bay, and the wind quickly blew up a chop against the ebb. I was anchored too close to the shore and had to move to stay afloat, and instead of rowing round the lifeboat slip with the ebb and then blowing back with the new wind I stood out close hauled from the island and out into the main ebb tide where the seas were getting quite big. I decided it was too much for my boat, overloaded as it was, and so I wore round and ran back down the NE side of the island hoping to get round the SE corner where I had seen water not long ago.

Peter went to help Joan, whose anchor had fouled and had to be cut away. Peter towed Joan round the lifeboat slip, after which Joan had a fast sail back to Thurstaston, just getting over the sand bank by the East Bar Buoy. Peter followed the deepwater channel near the Welshman and battled against the ebb to Thurstaston. Norman was led astray by me and followed me. When it became clear we could not get round Hilbre, we beached our boats and reviewed the situation. My children wanted to get back to go out in the evening — really an incompatible aim with sailing on the Dee. When the tide had dropped far enough we all set off to walk to West Kirby.

By now the sun had come out and the day looked settled, and out of the wind it was positively warm. When we returned from West Kirby, Norman, his son Steven and I spent an enjoyable day exploring the islands, planning a route through the islands for the evening, and admiring the view from the Great Orme to the Formby sand hills. The weather stayed fine and there was obviously going to be plenty of light to see us up the river. However, when the water returned it was clear that our route through the islands was not going to be passable soon enough to enable us to get up to Heswall on the tide, so we had to go round the way we had rejected in the morning.

I did not fancy beating single handed down the length of the island, so Norman gave me a tow. We towed steadily down the NE side of the island against the tide. Near the main channel, regular seas started coming in, but not very high because the wind and tide were together. As we got to the lifeboat slip the tide started sweeping us SW into a tide rip caused by the NW seas meeting the SW-running tide, and also bouncing off the steep cliffs of the island. For ten minutes the boats stood on their ends, with conical waves crashing in on all sides. The engine kept running and we managed to keep facing the major waves. My boat was filled to the bottom boards, but the Drascombe shed all the water she shipped because of the scuppers over the side tanks. As the tide swept us clear, we slipped the tow and made sail. We arrived back at Heswall an hour after Joan and Peter had been able to get up, having had a most enjoyable sail, the latter part in the dark.

Norman was sleeping ashore, and beached his boat near the HW mark. I went ashore to phone and then rowed against the last of the flood to anchor near Peter. Peter was trying out a new boat tent, and the night provided everything needed for a test — rain, wind and cold. Next morning the wind had set in from the SW with little prospect of a break, so we all decided to recover our boats. Joan left Hronrad on her mooring and set off to look for her anchor. We could easily have recovered it for her had we realised it was there.

I was grateful for the tow from Norman, and would have had to spend the night at Thurstaston if he had not been there. Beating against the flood or waiting for the between-islands route to be covered would have taken the same time probably up to HW. I would then have had to run against the ebb, and would only make Thurstaston in the dark. If the weather had deteriorated I would have had to beach the boat higher up when the flood came and then return later with the trailer to recover at low water. We used this technique during the Fastnet gales in 1979 when we were caught by a 180° wind shift and beached on a lee shore with a falling tide. We hauled the trailer — like Scott of the Antarctic hauling a sledge — over about half a mile of sandy beach. The beach at West Kirby is a bit bigger! All in all I was lucky, having taken the wrong course of action, to have had such an enjoyable day on Hilbre.