Having built up an enormous number of ‘Pixie Points’ by agreeing to go the Costa Brava for a two week sweat in August I decided to cash them in for a glorious 8 days in the Solent recently. Saturday June 18th saw H and I setting off for Newtown in my newly-acquired Lysander Shield-Duck for a Southern Region DCA meet at Newtown (well it’s almost a dinghy and if Roddy can got away with a Cornish Crabber.....!).

After a sunny drift to the Hamstead boom, we anchored and met up with Jim Smith (in his tender!) John Laughland (Devon Yawl) and Joe Scott (Tarpon) and after numerous unsuccessful attempts, managed to get the cooker going for a brew-up.

I won’t dwell too much on the events of the DCA meeting save to say that a certain member was doing come pretty impressive rowing in my 6’ tender until he decided to go sub-aqua — and also that we had studied the tide tables so well that our exit from the New Inn saw us ‘river-walking’ back to our stranded boats. (Have you ever read The art of Course Cruising by Michael Green? He must have been a DCA member...).

The night was, however, memorable for me because of the nightingales that warbled us to sleep from the bank — marvellous!

Next morning saw an early departure for several members who had to catch the west-going tide whilst for once we could relax and forget the clock. We had a very lazy morning rowing around talking to other boat owners and were particularly impressed with Ian’s Sterte-class cruiser — a really solid looking boat complete with self steering. After rowing across to the Hamstead Estate jetty, we walked up a lane to find a farm shop which stocked provisions and chandlery, and a footpath along the shore to Yarmouth (with topless popsies sunning themselves whilst steaks were being barbecued for lunch... sorry, where was I?)

At 1600 we left for Cowes in a spanking 4-5 NW and experimented with the boat. I was delighted to find that with the jib backed and the main free, she hove-to immediately in quite rough seas and felt very safe. At Cowes we ran up the Medina to anchor just below the Medway Queen — looking very sad and forlorn now with the tide flowing in and out of the portholes.

Monday broke in traditional Monday morning style — overcast and grey with a stiff wind that promptly died when we had reefed to the first batten (sod’s law of the sea refers) . At this stage we still worried about things like baths and showers and were daft enough to pay £1.70 for a short stay at a marina were we found, to our dismay, that the sunburn came off with Lifebuoy — better to leave well alone! After fish and chips and cold beer (taste buds of a rhino) we drifted on a glassy sea around to Wootton passing a huge container ship which looked like a block of flats. We motored right up to the bridge and cooked a meal, and after a run ashore, motored down to the DCA haunt at Ashlake Creek to settle on the mud for the night.

Tuesday dawned bright and sunny with a distinct lack of wind — we went ashore at Wootton and bartered for a second hand Tilley lamp, a gas stove and a rolls razel (??!) before setting off for Bembridge at 11.30.

We drifted around to Seaview and anchored right off the beach where I sampled the sea — brr! Then came the excitement as we sampled the seamy delights of Seaview — bursting with apathy! God how that place swings! It only needed a few Mexicans in sombreros slumbering in the sun and John Wayne! We tried unsuccessfully for some spares for the Tilley lamp and asked if we were likely to find a suitable shop in Bembridge. “Don’t know,” came the reply. “I don’t know much about the shops in Bembridge.” As a fellow caulkhead myself I could believe that he very rarely went into Bembridge — after all it is 2 miles away!

Drifting round to Bembridge we found only 1’ or 0’ of water on the tide gauge so anchored by St Helens Fort and cooked Beef Risotto à Ia Vesta!

We entered the deserted harbour at 1830 and moored fore-and-aft on the beach (on the left as you go in — £2 per night once they have woken up to the fact that you are there!!).

Wednesday saw conditions even hotter and stiller and we decided to spend the day in harbour. We walked ashore (on sand this time — no more shades of Newtown) and explored Bembridge, St Helens and Brading (where it is still possible to find part of the old town quay in a field surrounded by cows — complete with mooring rings — the quay I mean!).

Thursday, and the call of the open sea again — but still hot, windless and misty. We left at 1000 under power, putting up main and jib off Seaview and ghosting goose-winged to Ryde pier in tandem with a Seagull 18. As the morning wore on, a brisk onshore wind funnelled up the Solent and out came the charts and tidal stream atlas with ambitious schemes of making Christchurch before the flood set in. Our first tack took us into Osbourne Bay, then round to Hillhead, Calshot Bell Buoy, light ship and Thorn Knoll, going about off Bourne Gap Beacon bound for Newtown on the starboard tack. As the wind once again died, this latter heading was progressively revised to NE Gurnard Buoy and finally Princes Green Cowes under power to avoid a large cargo ship a bit smartish. The turn of the tide saw us still motoring 1 mile west of Hamstead boom where we proved once again that you don’t go anywhere in the Solent unless it’s with the tide! We crept inshore to avoid the main stream only to find it running just as hard 50 metres from the beach, so we decided to anchor hard in, and cook a meal and wait for the stream to ease. We were promptly hit by a thunderstorm and our first and only rain of the week. At 2100 the stream had eased to an estimated ¾kt and sufficient breeze had sprung up to give us a good reach into Yarmouth where we sculled in between dinghies and nudged our way to the dinghy pontoon to spend the night just in time for a last noggin at the Bugle before turning in.

Friday already — but a brisk NE breeze! After stocking up with provisions at Yarmouth, we set off through Hurst Narrows on the first of the ebb, past Colwell and Tofland Bays to fetch up by the old pier in Alum Bay — in very deep water right up to the beach. We cooked brunch and then rowed ashore to become ‘Grockles’, riding up in the chair lift to the cliff top and setting off across the Downs to the Needles Old Battery. This relic dates back to the 1800’s and was in use up to the early 1900’s. It has recently been bought by the National Trust from the War Dept and is well worth a visit. Whilst we were there, the first of six guns was being salvaged from the sea bed and winched up to the top of the cliff. A brick lined tunnel some 50-60 metres long brings you out halfway down the cliff at an old searchlight battery right above the Needles while records show a lift that used to drop 200’ inside the cliff to a passage leading to a second searchlight battery almost at sea level. Walking back over the Downs, we passed the derelict New Needles Battery and the remains of the Black Knight rocket-testing site — now completely abandoned and looking very different to when I visited it in 1958 (cor — ain’t I old).

After a laze on the Downs overlooking Shield-duck, just visible as a dot in the crystal-clear waters of the bay we made the slightly hairy journey back to the beach by chair lift and rowed out to the boat where we cooked our evening meal.

Then came a memorable trip — motoring hard in right under the cliffs out to the lighthouse — impossible in more ‘normal’ condition. At the light, we met the flood sluicing in, put up the sails and fairly romped in through a slightly more exciting Hurst Narrows to fetch up in the quiet little creeks of Keyhaven where we met up with seven other boating fanatics for a hilarious evening at The Gun. Another member who shall remain nameless felt (wisely) that perhaps it would be a little too adventurous to try to make it home by motorbike, electing instead to crush in with us for the night, with one foot on either side of the mast support!

There then followed an unusual night due to the fact that our port keel seemed to have located the only dirty great hole in Keyhaven River bed and we dried out at a most interesting angle.

Saturday saw us up and doing early and looking remarkably bright-eyed and bushy-tailed considering. A quick run ashore for some water and then the return sail to pick up the mooring at Lymington again. Only 8 days, no records broken, no oceans crossed, only happy memories of a great little cruise in a great little boat (biased of course!). Who knows — maybe the West Country next year — better start cutting the grass!