As usual, the preparation of Curlew took more or less a whole day. There are so many little items required, and I find it takes a long time to pack everything. I have fitted the boat with two storage boxes at the aft end of the cockpit, and I have also made hatch covers for the forward stowage compartments, where I can stuff my sleeping bag, tent, bag of dry clothes and a large biscuit tin containing solid fuel cooker, saucepan, matches and candle lantern.

By the afternoon everything was packed and I managed to launch at Itchenor by 1600, against a gentle flood. I expected the wind to be a stiff easterly, and put a reef in the mainsail and kept the jib furled. The evening was calm and glorious, and the harbour quiet. After a while I realised I had been too cautious and shook out the reef and hoisted the jib. As I passed the Thorney Channel the wind started to die, and for the first time I used my oars over a distance of about a mile; I was surprised at the speed they gave me. At East Head, my overnight anchorage, the beach was deserted and the soft sand and clear water lapping it were reminiscent of a desert island. As I towed the boat behind me into Snow Hill Creek, little fish darted around my feet. Soon I was anchored, my boom tent up, food cooked, bed boards in place and sleeping bag ready. As night fell, my little candle lantern swung gently from the boom whilst the boat rocked me to sleep, and above me my mast head light slowly wandered around amongst the brilliant stars.

Suddenly a voice said "Hello David". I looked out into the nearly black creek, just in time to hear a swish of water and the swift passage of a sailing boat, sails black, moving silently through the night. What a beautiful thing is a sailing boat at night. Liz Baker rounded up and rowed back to chat for a few minutes, then moved off further up the creek to try and find a peaceful anchorage. All night, noisy little waves rocked my boat and slapped on to the sand, and to start with I kept looking out to check. But the waves were always just six inches high, and in the end tiredness overcame anxiety and I dozed off.

Next morning my alarm went off in time for the shipping forecast. which gave NE F3/4 and F5 around headlands. This wind forecast, if combined with a lumpy sea, is a bit heavy for my present level of experience, but I decided to creep out of the harbour and have a look. The day was misty, cold, and windy and I could hear the distant sound of the surf outside the harbour. Unfortunately, the dry clothes in which I had slept now had to be packed away safely, and yesterday's damp clothes had to go back on. However, my windproof outer layer completely stopped any wind chill, and I was never actually cold during the day. As yesterday, I started off with just the reefed mainsail, and the NE wind gave me an easy broad reach as far as the Fishery beacon at the north end of the entrance channel, where I gybed gently round and headed south out of the harbour. This was where my previous experience ended, and as I mentioned previously, my plan was to venture out of the harbour and have a look. The tide was still flooding and I could return if necessary.

As I passed the West Winner tide gauge the sea was suddenly full of angry waves which kept jumping straight up at me, with no rhyme nor reason, rather like water boiling in a pan. These were not very big and were probably due to the wind against tide, and caused me some alarm, but to my relief were soon passed. Now I was passing the harbour entrance and a more regular swell started, lifting and lowering the boat but at least in a slow and controlled way. Soon I reached the Chichester Bar Beacon, where boats tend to converge, and I was troubled by the wash of power boats that seemed to come too close for no reason. As I rounded the beacon one of the yachts shouted across to me "France is that way!” which cheered me up, and as I gybed and shaped my course for Langstone Fairway buoy I felt much more confident. Luckily, I had remembered to pack a warm Balaclava and I had prepared a flask of coffee, so the world was starting to look good. I settled down to a fast run, with a swell running up behind me all the time, but soon I realised that the waves were overtaking me too easily, so I shook out the reef, and hoisted my jib. I found I could just make the required course with the jib boomed out, using a spinnaker pole clipped to the centre case. This booming out is an excellent idea; it stabilises the boat against downwind rolling and should the jib go aback from time-to-time nothing serious happens.

The conditions were misty and Hayling Island was only just visible, and I was not absolutely certain of its features on my first passage. Soon the Chichester Bar Beacon had disappeared and nothing else was in sight except the distant Hayling shore. However, soon I heard and saw jet skis and power boats zooming out to sea ahead and I knew I was approaching Langstone Harbour entrance. I passed the Langstone Fairway buoy about two cables to starboard and sighted what I thought was the Roway Wreck Buoy, but I was not certain. However, I soon saw the Horse Sand Fort about 30 degrees to port and I was then happy with my position. But would I find the gap in the sunken barrier? Suddenly, there it was - the dolphin and marker beacon, but some distance inshore. The ebb from Langstone Harbour had set me out to seaward more than calculated, so I had to tack and sail directly inshore for several minutes to get back on my course, finally passing through the gap with some apprehension in the weakening wind. Now to seaward I could see a large ship, but it looked stationary. Could I be sure it would not be coming across my bow on its way into Portsmouth? Liz had told me not to try and race a ship when crossing the main channel, but after observing for a while I decided the ship had stopped, so I pressed on across the easterly shipping channel, and soon approached the Spit Sand Fort.

I had never seen one of these forts close up, but they are huge and have a long wind shadow, so the Union flag fluttering on the fort was no guide to the sailing wind, which was in any case becoming gradually lighter, but soon I was up to a reasonable speed of about 2 kt. again. To estimate my speed I time a particular clump of bubbles in my wash until they are a boat length behind, then calculate the speed. Next I had to cross the western shipping channel, where the Isle of Wight ferry, hovercraft and catamaran operate, the latter with a severe wash about which one of the DCA members had warned me. No sooner was I in the middle of the channel when fear stabbed into my heart. From the direction of Portsmouth I heard the 1000 horsepower engines of the catamaran. It emerged through the mist in a cloud of spray and headed straight for me, at a distance of about half a mile. I fumbled for my white flare but there was no time and it seemed just too silly. Surely this high tech vessel was used to operating in amongst sailing boats? Eventually, without slowing down, the cat. made a just discernible course change and soon passed about a cable ahead of me. At the same time I tacked and fled away from its track, only having about 2 kt of speed due to the failing wind. Then, at the last minute, I turned to face the wash.

Ahead of me was a black wall of water a few feet high, I dare not say how many, and at its top it was curling over and starting to spill, and it moved slowly but decisively towards me. My boat was lined up exactly to meet it and suddenly we were climbing up at a steep angle of about 30 or 45 degrees. Then we were going down, and a second wave, a little lower, lifted the boat. This wave had a ski slope behind it and the little Mirror sped downwards. But now there was a third wave and the boat met it pointing down. But still she climbed the wall of water and survived without shipping one drop of bilge water. Soon I crept towards Gilkicker Point and with smoothing seas and lessening the excitement diminished. By 12.45 I was off Lee Point and progress became slower. Some way out to sea I saw the last sea going paddle steamer, the Waverley, steaming into Spithead with its paddles beating the water. At about 3 pm Liz Baker appeared in her Cormorant, Tessa, which looked quite different in the sunshine. We crossed tacks for a while and rounded Hillhead, but the tide was becoming foul and the wind was light. Tessa outpaced Curlew by a small but decisive margin, and Liz eventually disappeared into the distance whilst I carried on tacking and tacking for an hour with no progress.

Just as I decided to end my cruise at Hillhead, pleased with my first seagoing effort and my good little ship, the Cormorant suddenly hove into view again, having returned to give me a tow. It was good experience to set up the tow rope in the rolling seaway, and Liz towed me all the way to Bursledon, her little outboard working overtime to pull both boats. Thank you Liz.

As we approached Bursledon. Peter Glover rowed out to us in his beautiful new dory, and we anchored on the hard next to the Jolly Sailor for the night. What a great cruise! However, I knew the wind and tides would not allow me to get back in one day, so next morning I went back to Chichester, by train, to collect my trailer.

In retrospect, my planning of the tides was not good enough, and next time I need a better way of calculating tidal effects in an area where the flow is rather complex.

Distances: Chichester Bar to Submerged Barrier, 4.8 NM, time 1h 30m, speed 3.2 kt. East Head to Gilkicker, 11.4 NM, time 3h 55m, speed 2.9 kt. East Head to Hillhead, 16.4 NM, time 6h 50m, speed 2.4 kt.

Experience: Third season sailing, most experience within Chichester Harbour. Two short overnight cruises previously. Practised reefing, anchoring, heaving to, rowing, navigating etc. within the harbour.

My Mirror is equipped as follows (main items):

Wooden mast. Reefing points for jiffy reefing system. Second halliard for the gunter yard when reefed. 8 lb fisherman anchor with 2m chain and 30m warp, on chocks on the foredeck. Small grapnel type kedge. Bow fairlead. Two stowage boxes: One contains charts, binoculars, radio, protractor, log book, documents. The other contains bosun's box, first aid kit, eating irons, tools, flask, drinking bottle. Hatch covers over forward lockers, containing: boom tent, sleeping bag, clothes bag, try sail. Large steering compass. Hand bearing compass. Elastic for holding tiller. Topping lift lazyjacks (fixed length, for reefing). Jib downhaul. Booming out pole. Rowlock on transom for sculling & emergency steering. Mast head riding light. Rope loop across transom for climbing into boat . Long safety line attached to lifejacket harness. Sleeping boards. Solid fuel cooker. Safety line on centreboard. Pyrotechnics. Buckets and bailer.