Having launched the previous afternoon and left Samphire tied up to a pontoon at Woolverstone Marina, we were able to drive the car and trailer to a friend’s house at South Woodham Ferrers and make the most of his generous offer to bring us back to the boat. Waking on Bank Holiday Monday, we opened the tent door to a beautiful sunny day and set sail at about 0733 to use the last of the ebb to take us down river.

The Orwell is a pleasant river, with trees leading down to the water’s edge. Behind us, Ipswich was framed by the graceful lines of the Orwell Bridge. On the south bank we passed Pin Mill, one of the most popular destinations in this area, with sailors and tourists heading for the Butt & Oyster by sea and land. Our aim was to pass the ports of Felixstowe and Harwich at low water, then use the flooding tide to take us down to the Walton Backwaters. Several yachts and power cruisers were leaving the Orwell and the Stour as we hurried across the shipping channel and out past the old town of Harwich toward open water.

Pye End Buoy was our mark to head back toward land. There is a clear line of marks into the Walton Backwaters to Stone Point. From here we followed Hamford Water, so far as the mud allowed, reaching Landermere Quay before turning back. Late spring is an interesting time to watch the wildlife which visits East Anglia. The sand and shingle spits provide a nest site for the delicate little tern. We were fortunate enough to watch these birds in flight, darting like swallows, hovering like a kestrel, then plunging into a dive to catch a fish. This was carried and fed to a mate who sat calling from the river bank, part of their courtship ritual.

Rounding Skipper’s Island, we landed briefly for lunch, then sailed down the Twizzle crossing Horsey Mere and the submerged road, the Wade, at the second attempt. Our second night afloat was spent in the marina at Titchmarsh. As we erected the tent, we were fascinated by the abundance of jellyfish in the water. One or two floated in our centreboard casing together with a couple of sea gooseberries. After a visit to Walton‑on‑the‑Naze and a spectacular flower festival in the village church, we returned to a boat almost aground, and were only just able to retrieve the centreboard from the mud.

Tuesday was our longest sail, about thirty miles. Again we left on the ebb down the Walton Channel and out past the marks and into open water. We had to sail well offshore to avoid the wave-cut platforms of London Clay which form the beach below the Naze. On the Naze is the tower of an old lighthouse and, having rounded this, we headed for the pier at Walton. The tide took us south, but the southerly wind of force 3 made the sea very lumpy. By the time was passed the pier we were thoroughly wet, but the wind shifted slightly to the south west making the tacks easier and allowing us closer into the shore. The long haul past Frinton, Clacton, Jaywick and Brightlingsea saw us keeping up with some larger cruisers. Samphire showed little recognition of Clacton as we passed.

The eastern end of Mersea Island has a small, sandy beach which shelves steeply on sands and gravels. These were deposited by the River Medway flowing north into the Thames which followed the line of the present River Colne before it was diverted to today’s course through London by the Ice Age, a few thousand years ago. Whilst the seas had been fairly quiet so far, we found ourselves surrounded by hundreds of small boats belonging to a children’s sailing course, who also intended to beach at the same spot. It was a noisy lunch.

We soon made out into the Colne and out to sea once more. Again we had to stay offshore, rounding the Target buoy and heading for the Nass Beacon at the mouth of the River Blackwater. Channel markers led us into Tollesbury Fleet past the Great Cob and Little Cob islands. Finally, we sailed up Woodrolfe Creek into Tollesbury itself and moored at the marina, where we were able to utilise the luxury of showers and allow the boat to dry out.

Using marinas in a dinghy may seem against the spirit of dinghy cruising, where the aim is to escape from civilization. We like to compromise on long cruises. After a long sail at sea, everything is covered in salt, and the facilities enable us to clean ourselves and the boat. We also have toilet facilities, shops and, of course, the pubs. However, during the day we are able to go to those places larger cruising yachts cannot, and quiet hours spent here are thoroughly appreciated.

Tollesbury Marina has a sill, and we paddled out with the tide at about 0700. In the Fleet we took up a buoy and cooked breakfast. The saltings are owned by a Christian group known as Fellowship Afloat. This group organise sailing trips for young people and accommodate them in a redundant lightship moored beside the creek. This is a prominent landmark, as are the recently restored sail lofts on the hard backed by a less attractive block of holiday flats. Using the slack water, we sailed around Old Hall Marshes, a new RSPB reserve and into the narrow channel between many moored boats leading to the village of West Mersea, where we landed briefly before sailing out into the River Blackwater, where we spent the rest of the day.

The flooding tide was used to sail upriver toward Maldon. The wind was less strong than on the previous days, and we moved slowly out into the channel past obvious sandbanks where cormorants dried their wings before the incoming tide covered their perches. The Blackwater often has ships moored awaiting commission. I remember a gas rig which lay there like a Christmas tree each evening. An old Trinity House vessel is there at present. She was bought and converted for cruising in warmer climates, but appears to be redundant for now. Her sister ship is moored further up river nearer to Maldon. We beat upriver, beaching on the shingle at Stansgate Abbey for lunch overlooking Osea Island. As we neared Maldon the channel narrows, and a large mudbank lying between the channel markers convinced us that we were still too early to reach the town quay, so we turned tail and ran back toward Osea Island before branching off down toward Maylandsea along Lawling Creek. The boatyard of Dan Webb & Feesey made us welcome visitors, and we left Samphire for a short walk around the marshes on the sea wall. Leaving at high water, the tide helped us back to the Blackwater and the 5 miles or so to Bradwell where we landed for the night, enjoying a visit to the Green Man for a meal.

Our journey south to the Crouch meant waiting for the flooding tide, and gave us the morning to walk around the sea wall beneath the shadow of the power station to St Peter’s Chapel. This ancient church is one of the first built in East Anglia by St Cedd during the dark ages. Its simplicity is most attractive, just a single stone room made up of stones and bricks from the previous Roman settlement of Othona. In the village of Bradwell we noticed the ‘lock-up’ was under repair, and speculated on who it was used by, being opposite the school and next to the church. Leaving at low water, the first couple of miles was against the tide which had begun to flood into the Blackwater. We sailed out toward the Bench Head buoy about two miles offshore. Heading toward us was the magnificent sight of a Thames barge under full sail, heading in toward Maldon with the tide. Heading south, we moved quickly with the help of the tide, reaching along the edge of the Dengie Flats. These mud banks dry to as much as three metres above chart datum. At one point, a fleet of old lighters have been sunk to try and prevent the erosion of the coastal saltings. Being shallow draughted, we could follow the edge of the flats and head for the Ray Sand Channel. This is a short cut into the Whitaker Channel for such boats. Keel boats must head out some five miles offshore to avoid the Buxey Sand. We were too early and our built-in echo sounder soon cut into the sand. To give the tide time to rise, we reached out to the Buxey Beacon, a huge mark on a tripod well documented in books on the Swatchways. On the second attempt, carefully taking our bearings with an orienteering compass, we found the gap dead on, and at half-plate swept across into the channel and on into the Crouch up to Burnham.

This old Essex town, famous for its east coast rival week to Cowes, has some fascinating buildings, sailing clubs and waterside taverns. At last we found somewhere that actually catered for vegetarians, and enjoyed a very pleasant last evening afloat. Our final day began by retracing our steps downriver to the mouth of the Roach, then sailing against the tide to Paglesham and Bartonhall Creek.

Unfortunately, the high sea wall and low surrounding fields mean that the view is almost all from a dinghy. At one point, the distant flats of Southend appeared above the horizon, but most interest was seen on the river itself, where several flocks of waders enjoyed the mud and all manner of gulls circled and squabbled around us. Near Barton Hall, an avocet flew across our bow, its striking black and white plumage standing out clearly. At the mouth of Havengore Creek, which leads to the Thames, a seal had hauled itself up onto the mud and watched us as intently as we watched it. Our timing was good, and we returned to the mouth of the Roach as the tide turned to flood and helped us upriver.

We had been serenaded by gunfire from the ranges on Foulness Island. As we sailed up the Crouch through Burnham, a plume of black smoke spiralled up into the air. Past the moored yachts and a Dutch timber ship, past Bridgemarsh Island and a lone water-skier, the Crouch remained a wide river. Once we reached Fambridge and Brandy Hole it narrowed, and the last mile to Woodham Ferrers Yacht Club was taken cautiously following the deeper water between moored boats to the slip. Here I donned running kit and set off for the town to fetch the car whilst Anne began to unload our provisions. It is always surprising how big a pile of gear looks on the shore. Before each trip, we say it will never all fit in Samphire, but it usually does. Almost as soon as we pulled her out onto her trolley, the heavens opened, our only rain of the week. Once more we were wet through, but fresh rainwater helped wash down the boat.

Back to Woolverstone, and with Samphire safely in her place and us safely showered, we adjourned to Pin Mill, to the Butt and Oyster, and reflected on 114 miles of most enjoyable sailing in relatively crowd-free waters on the east coast.