TAI TAI II is a Roamer cruising dinghy No R112 fitted with a cabin. She is 14ft LOA, 5ft 8in beam, has an 80lb centreplate plus 8Olbs internal ballast, slab reefing mainsail, genoa on roller-reefing luff spar. She carries a 3hp Yamaha outboard permanently fixed on a transom bracket. I seldom trail the boat, and she lives each summer on a half-tide mooring in a quiet creek in the Walton Backwaters in Essex, a short rowing distance from the hard of the Walton and Frinton Yacht Club. I nearly always sail single-handed. For this trip I towed my lightweight 7ft 6in plywood dinghy.

Sunday 1st Sept 1996 In good spirits and with the boat well victualled, I dropped the mooring at 1640. It was a warm sunny afternoon with a light southerly breeze. I had a whole week ahead of me to come and go as I pleased. My plan was a trip down the coast to visit some old haunts on the rivers Colne and Blackwater. The weather in the previous week had been wet and windy, but now a high pressure was building and I had good expectations of some fine weather. For the Sunday night I would anchor afloat in the Backwaters, then make an early getaway on the Monday morning.

At 1750 dropped anchor in the mouth of Moze creek. This is my favourite place in the Backwaters, sheltered from all directions except the east and surrounded at low water by close mud banks at the confluence of three small gutways. Here it is always quiet and peaceful, only the birds for company and the occasional seal amidst a wonderful landscape of creeks and marshes. The Walton Backwaters remain largely unspoilt and little changed over many years. It is still a “Secret Water” and much the same as when Arthur Ransome used the area as the setting for his children’s book of that name in 1938.

It was a hauntingly beautiful night with perfect stillness and every star shining from the heavens. At 2200 a vast red moon rose slowly above a cloud bank on the north-eastern horizon to cast its ghostly pale light over the marshy landscape. My little cabin seemed even more cosy than usual and the rest of the world with its problems was a million miles away. The cabin arrangement is a masterpiece of simplicity — the top is hinged at its forward end so that when at anchor the aft end is raised up and has canvas sides like an old Broads yacht. This provides full sitting headroom. Inside I have a dry, comfortable berth and all necessities for cooking and washing, with hand pumped water and ample stowage for all needs. I sometimes liken it to the words of the Ancient Mariner describing his cramped fo’c’sle quarters in Racundra’s First Cruise — “There was room to lie and sleep, and room to sit and smoke, and what does any man want with more”.

Monday 2nd Sept 0415, early morning tea. Low mist over the marshes and not a breath of wind. Weather forecast variable becoming southerly 2. Aweigh under full sail at sunrise giving me a couple of hours of ebb to get round to Naze at low water. As I drifted out of Moze creek, I noticed a friend in his YM Senior rowing out of Landermere Creek, so we stopped together and chatted for a while until at 0730 I started the engine and motored out towards the Naze, passing there at 0845.

It was a lovely day with the sun shining from a cloudless sky onto a dead calm sea as I motored past Walton Pier at 0930 with the new flood pushing me down the Wallet channel. The Wallet runs NE-SW along the Essex coast from the Naze to the Colne estuary and can be uncomfortably rough even in a moderate breeze with wind against tide. However, today it was benign and friendly. Off Holland-on-Sea a light southerly sprang up, so I hoisted sail again and shut off the engine at last. I spotted fellow DCA member Ted Jones in his Skipper 17 close inshore trying to cheat the tide heading north.

By 1100 I had passed Clacton pier. The boat was speeding along in a steady F2 from the south, and with a 1½ knot favourable tide. When I passed Colne Point at 1210 (6.2 miles from Clacton Pier) and headed up the Colne, I could calculate our speed over the ground as 5.3 knots. Very good going, although owing to the slow start my average speed for the passage worked out at only 3.5 knots. At 1315 anchored in Brightlingsea and rowed ashore to replenish my petrol and water, and have a walk round the town.

Aweigh again at 1435 to take the last 1½ hours of flood up the Colne with the wind dead astern and the sails goosewinged. Off Fingringhoe the wind fell away and we drifted the last half mile up to Wivenhoe where the picturesque waterfront looks wonderful at high water, but by half tide is a mud-hole with nowhere to lie except nose-on to the quay outside the pub. So with the tide turning, I handed the sails, motored down river and anchored at 1715 about 1½ miles inside Pyefleet creek where there is plenty of water, no other boats, and perfect peace. I had covered 30 miles since breakfast.

I cooked a very tasty supper and treated myself to a glass of scotch. No meal can quite compare to the one cooked and eaten aboard. The appetite is sharpened by a day in the fresh air and by the anticipation and planning of the meal ahead. It is surprising what can be achieved with simple ingredients, a one burner stove and two small pans. For that extra touch, serve up the food on a good quality china plate, and you have a meal fit for a prince. Much better than eating ashore and a mere fraction of the cost.

After clearing up and hoisting the riding light, I snugged down with my book and a good concert on the radio. A little while later I was disturbed by the extraordinary sight of a large seal trying to climb into the tender, and threatening to capsize it! He was reluctant to be dissuaded from these efforts, and only after much jerking of the painter and splashing with an oar did he eventually desist and slink off into the night. Alone on the boat in the pitch dark, it was an alarming and bizarre experience; but not unique as I found out from my friend Mike Shepherd, whom I met later on in the cruise. He had experienced the same thing before in the Pyefleet, and was fascinated to hear the same story again.

Tuesday 3rd Sept Overcast dawn with easterly breeze. Shipping forecast was NE 3/4. The land forecast was for a NE airstream for the next few days with stiff breezes along the east coast. I used my portable phone to call the Marinecall three day forecast, which gave: Tuesday — NE or ENE light/moderate; Wednesday — moderate; Thursday — moderate to fresh. This was just the wind direction I didn’t want as ENE is a dead-noser back up the Wallet. So, if the weather was to get blowier later in the week, I would take the early morning ebb on Wednesday back north and finish my cruise upwind rather than risk getting stuck too far south. For today, I would sail over to West Mersea and then return to the Pyefleet that night ready for a pre-dawn start back on the Wednesday.

Aweigh at 0940 under full sail, beat down the Pyefleet, past East Mersea and had a wonderful beam reach down to Colne Point on the last hour of ebb. I turned to the west for the run to West Mersea. Wind was indeed ENE 3 which gave a fast and enjoyable run despite the overcast weather. I picked up a mooring close by the hard in Mersea and rowed ashore to restock my sugar and to buy some cake. I realised that coming here was probably not a very smart move because I was now faced with a dead beat against the flood tide to get out of the river Blackwater. HW was 1645 and if I didn’t make it to East Mersea by then, I would have to buck the ebb running out of the river Colne. The wind was also starting to get up. I had a quick lunch, tied a precautionary reef in the main, and left West Mersea under engine at 1330.

The wind and tide were marching earnestly into Mersea Quarters. An army of short steep waves flung plenty of spray about as I punched my way towards the Nass Beacon, which was passed at 1400. I kept the motor on to cheat the tide, and make as much easting as possible whilst I still had some shelter from the south shore of the Blackwater. A mile to the east of the Nass it became too rough for the engine, so I shut it down and hoisted sail single reefed and with two rolls in the jib.

The best course I could make was either 145° or 45° as the wind was just north of E, not a good portent for my trip home on the morrow. The fetch from the east comes all the way from Holland, and it seemed as if the whole North Sea was being flung at this stretch of water in a grey wasteland of heaped seas. Most of the boat’s movement was up and down rather than forward, and I could see we were being swept back into the river. The boat needed to be driven harder, so I shook out the reefs, took her very slightly off the wind, and before long we were bowling along in fine style despite often having to ease the mainsheet. While we had good speed through the water, the speed in an easterly direction was painfully slow against the tide.

Back and forth we tacked against the tide, back and forth making a few yards each time, like climbing a descending escalator. The wind was a steady F4 and my eyes and ears were tuned only to the rhythm of the boat and the sweet music of the sea as it rushed along the hull. Any temptation to pinch her to gain an extra yard was punished by a sharp plunge into the next steep trough, stopping all way and flinging the next wave full in my face. But determination and persistence paid off, and at last we entered the Colne again at 1630. By 1700 we were safely anchored at the entrance to Pyefleet. It was time to dry out and have a welcoming mug of tea.

The 1750 shipping forecast gave NE 4/5 occasionally 6. The land forecast was brisk NE airstream, cloudy, drizzle with risk of early mist and fog. In the meantime my anchorage had become uncomfortably rough, so at 1830 I weighed and re-anchored a mile up the creek in the lee of Pewit Island. When I phoned Marinecall for their evening update, they gave ENE 4/6 for the next three days. This made it rather difficult to decide what to do. I did not consider the trip back north to be prudent - an ENE was a dead noser all the way and very rough in these wind conditions. I could go the other way, up the Blackwater or the Crouch, but the further south and east I went, the more difficult it would become to get back at all. If I had to leave the boat, the most convenient place was Tollesbury Marina. So I finally decided to cancel the trip back to Walton and head towards Tollesbury tomorrow and recheck the forecast.

The evening sky was unbroken grey and windy, and it soon started to rain, so after setting the riding light, I snugged down below for another good supper. I kept a keen eye out for the psychotic seal, but he didn’t visit again. At 2200 another yacht motored in and anchored nearby.

Wednesday 4th Sept 0600, missed the shipping forecast. Weather still grey, overcast, drizzle and wind unchanged from just north of east blowing 3/4. By way of consolation, I treated myself to a bacon and egg breakfast. After that, I set to cleaning up the cockpit and wiping out the cockpit bilge of its usual collection of sand, crumbs, cigarette ash and various dead insects.

I was pleased to see the previous evening’s late arrival was the yacht “Dawn Trader”, a 28ft Mirage owned by Mike and Mary Shepherd, friends of mine from West Mersea. They had also heard the forecast last evening, and decided to head home before the weather worsened, leaving the Deben at 17.00, and making a fast run down the coast against the tide. When they heard I was headed for Tollesbury, they suggested a sail in company, and to have lunch together. We were both aweigh at 1120 taking the last of the ebb out of the Pyefleet and the Colne, passing East Mersea at 1200. “Dawn Trader” was under full main, and “Tai Tai II” was single reefed and with two rolls in the jib. I assumed at the start there was no way I could keep up with a 28 footer, but surprisingly we kept right alongside each other the whole journey.

Beyond East Mersea, we came onto a reach and eventually a run as we gradually skirted around Mersea flats. It was a wonderful sail, a real feeling of acceleration as the boat surged ahead, the dinghy behind me up on a plane or dancing like a devil at the end of its painter. I was close enough to “Dawn Trader” to chat as we went along. Mike gave our speed at various intervals — mostly about 5.5 knots — whilst Mary took a selection of what turned out to be memorable photographs.

We shot past the Nass Beacon at 1300 with the flood tide under us — exactly one hour from East Mersea, a trip which yesterday took three hours in the opposite direction. Half an hour later we were rafted up together opposite the entrance to Tollesbury Creek. The grey sky had cleared away and the sun came out while Mike opened a bottle of wine, and Mary produced a wonderful lunch.

“Dawn Trader” is a homely and well-fitted craft, and her owners are cruising people of the old school: sensible, self reliant and knowledgeable of the lore of the sea, with long experience of the East Coast. Mike was the designer and builder of the little 7ft 6in tender I tow, built in his garden shed from old offcuts, but beautifully put together and finished; all at an absurdly low price. They are also kind and warm-hearted people. It was a pleasure to spend a quiet afternoon in such company.

I had still to decide the next step of my cruise. Mike called Walton coastguard, who gave E/NE 4/6 and “Dawn Trader’s” anemometer was already reading 18-20 knots. That settled it I would leave the boat at Tollesbury and trail home, or hope for a weather window before the weekend. We made our farewells soon after 1600 and I motored into Tollesbury Marina, negotiated for a berth, cleared up the boat and went home with the dinghy on the car roof.

Thursday 5th Sept I live only 15 miles from the coast and the weather at home is usually a good indication of what it is like for sailing. A stiff easterly blew mostly blew most of the day, but died down in the late afternoon. The shipping forecast was unchanged, but the Marinecall forecast NNE 3/4. If this was right, it was just the break I needed, because NNE would give that vital slant to be able to lay a course up the coast. It was as good a chance as any to take; so my good and understanding wife drove me back to Tollesbury. I arrived aboard at 2200, prepared the boat for the sea and turned in around midnight.

Friday 6th Sept 0445, woken sharply by the alarm clock. It was still dark with a starry sky and the moon high. There was a light breeze and it did appear to have swung more northerly, but from my marina berth I couldn’t tell exactly. Before me was a 26 mile passage, or a great deal further through the water if it turned out to be a dead beat. I was pent up with excitement and apprehension. HW off Nass beacon was 0700 and I wanted to be ahead of this, so that I had the whole of the ebb tide under me for the trip.

0535 motored out of Tollesbury. A thin pre-dawn glow from the east lighted my way along Tollesbury Creek. 0615 Nass beacon abeam; from here the course is due east to Colne Point. The forecast was right, the wind was just east of north blowing F2. I could lay a close reach with ease. Hoisted sail but kept the engine running to make good headway against the last of the flood.

As I passed the Nass, the sun rose right ahead. It was a truly magical morning. I wouldn’t have swapped the place or time for anywhere else on earth. The first rays of the sun sparkled upon a wide and empty sea, and I never saw another boat till I passed a barge off Walton. I felt utterly at one with the boat as she sped easily over the water, her centreplate singing, her helm easy and responsive, as if her good humour and delight on that sharp and shining morning were an echo of my own.

It turned out to be a grand passage home, and very fast. My deck log and chart tell the story:

- 0645 Shut engine/course 90° for Colne Point

- 0727 Passed Colne Point course 86° speed 5 knots OTG

- 0755 Jaywick Martello tower 3 abeam

- 0823 Clacton pier abeam/course 60°

- 0930 Walton pier abeam two miles/tacked inshore/wind NNE 2

- 10.00 Tacked off Walton

- 10.25 Medusa abeam/tacked inshore

- 11.00 Passed Naze

- 12.00 Anchored inside Stone Point

- Voyage accomplished — distance OTG 29 miles in 6.5 hours = 4.6 knots.

I took a contented rest in the afternoon and returned to my mooring at 1600. I hadn’t visited all the places I had hoped to in my few days away, but I had had some wonderful sailing, which is really what it is all about. The boat had taken care of me in her usual efficient way. She suffered no gear failures or losses — she kept me out of trouble, she provided me with a warm and cosy berth, and never complained. I returned home well pleased.

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