The time had come to buy a boat. It was near the end of the season and we calculated that it would cost us less than what we had spent on hiring Broads yachts. We had some vague ideas about a minimalist cruiser. Something small that would carry a tent and a camping stove. When C discovered John Glasspool’s Open Boat Cruising we realised that not only was the idea feasible, but there was a whole association of people doing it!

We firmed up our ideas. This boat had to be a good rower and we had to be able to lower the mast. It had to be launchable by the two of us and it would be nice if we could sleep on it, or at the very least carry a tent. C fancied something wooden, although I had my doubts, and it had to be cheap — ideally someone would beg us to take it off their hands. The search began in earnest. We saw many craft, most of them too big, too small or too expensive, although someone did beg us to take a rather tatty GP14. At the end of a very long day we finally saw the Heron at Ely Sailing Club, close to my home in Cambridge. We took her for a test run. She was in immaculate condition, but very, very small, 11½’. Going about without getting us both tied up in the rigging was not going to be easy. Still she rowed well, and we later found out, much to our surprise, that we could indeed both sleep aboard! I’m 5’ 11”, C, granted, is considerably shorter. It also had a brand new cover which, with a small amount of ingenuity, could double up as a boom tent. C was much taken with it and despite any reasoning to the contrary bought same. At least it complied with some of the DCA’s safety recommendations, although I’m not sure what would happen if we both sat on the gunwale. People at the club said they’d never seen it capsize but more about this later.

We then had the problem of where to keep the new possession, especially as we didn’t have anything to attach a trailer to. The people at Ely were very friendly so we decided to keep the boat there, especially as it gave us access to the Great Ouse and Bedford rivers. These may not to everyone’s liking, but if you like lots of tacking in drainage ditches this is definitely the place for it. The NRA at Peterborough provided the necessary documentation, and the next weekend we were painting on our registration number and trying to find space to stow the sleeping bags. We set out with the intention of having dinner at Denver, and sussing out the lock situation.

Our elation was fairly short lived. After lowering the mast at the first couple of bridges the boat began, slowly but surely, to fill up with Ouse. After the next bridge we were ankle deep and submerging rapidly. C beached us and we located the source of the problem. The boat was fitted with a curious cylindrical self-bailer which, when lowering the mast, is impossible not to stand on even when you know it’s there. With a tremendous sense of relief we bailed out and sailed on to Littleport for the night, cursing the self‑bailer every time it was stepped on, which was frequently, and vowing to fix it ‘once and for all’ on our return.

The ‘once and for all fix’ consisted of a metal tube that prevented the plunger on the bailer from sliding down. Unfortunately on our next trip it, predictably, got trodden on, which bent the shaft slightly causing a minor leak. I decided to try and execute a running repair and, for reasons unknown, removed the tube with the intention of straightening the shaft. The cylinder, being unsupported, fell into the murky depths below and a rather spectacular column of water spouted up through the hole left behind. We headed swiftly for the bank which, luckily, is never far away on the Ouse. I was not popular. Not only did C’s boat have an inch diameter hole in the bottom of the hull, the only way we could get it home was for her to hold a plastic bag over the hole, up to her wrists in chilly November water. Still it worked wonders for improving my rowing speed.

After fixing a temporary patch we had some wonderful sailing days in December, made better by the fact that most people had taken their boats out of the water. Unfortunately our last trip ended in disaster caused largely by our increasing confidence in the Heron. It was blowing up a bit, but not the sort of weather that would bother a 5 ton Broads yacht. We tried the Heron into the wind, which of course only ever blows in two directions on the river, and she seemed to cope quite well. Satisfied we headed downwind towards Ely for some lunch. Down river about a couple of miles the tiller started to feel remarkably light. A quick inspection showed that this was because the rudder was no longer in the water to any great extent. Before we could get any sail down we were in. Again I was not popular. We had to suffer a freezing trip home whilst re-analysing our situation. Was the capsize solely due my incompetence or is the Heron limited to lighter wind conditions? Would investing in a rig with reefing points help? I think we’ll wait until the weather warms up a little before we find out.