On 1/2 August 1998 I attended the rally at Pitts Deep, just East of Lymington. My boat, Curlew, is a Mirror with numerous adaptations for single handed cruising and this is my fourth season sailing. Here is an account of some of the events of a short but wonderful cruise.

My candle lantern made a steady pool of warm light on the shingly shore, and small waves gently fell on the protective reef some little way to seaward. Behind us, the New Forest crept all the way down to the beach. Our three boats were pulled up on the shore with their tents rigged, kedges taken up the beach and everything tidied up after the boisterous passage. We sat round enjoying small luxuries; home grown apples, cake, hot coffee. The wind still breathed gently but warm, and cattle stood nearby on the beach, munching contentedly. The lights of the Solent winked at us - Needles, Sconce Point, Hurst, Egypt Point - whilst above us a protective blanket of cloud let through occasional glimpses of the silent moon.

This was our setting at midnight at Pitts Deep - a complete contrast from earlier, where fresh breezes and playful sunlit waves had kept us on our toes. I had launched with slight trepidation from Keyhaven at 4 pm, leaving three hours of flood before high tide at 7 pm for the 5 mile journey. The Harbour Master had asked where I was bound and told me I should be all right - a reassurance which I really appreciated. The day had been unexpectedly hot and it was shirtsleeve sailing weather, the crisp sunlight making the creeks and saltings sparkle with life. Away to the south across the green marshes stood the cheerful white tower of Hurst High Light, and as I emerged into the Solent the luxuriant cliffs of the Wight, which I have never yet reached, looked temptingly close. This was my first time in the Western Solent and I was not yet familiar with the coastline. I had studied the charts and Ordnance Survey for many hours but things always seem to look different to one's expectations. I found the coastline quite deserted and featureless and I shaped my course by compass for Lymington Starting Tower, which I could not yet see. Soon the swell entering the Solent reached me for the first time and the breeze piped up - a steady F4 dead on the stern - together with a fair tidal stream.

Now Curlew was rolling and surging along with just the full mainsail penned out to the shrouds, no jib, and it was grand trade wind sailing in miniature. Gradually the seas increased in size as the shelter of Hurst Spit receded, and I decided that, as time was not important, but safety was, I would tuck in a reef - just in case. Last year at the Hurst Point Rally I had been alarmed to find myself "trapped" on a fast run. I could not seem to escape from my course without risk of capsizing. During the year I had therefore practised my techniques for this situation and now the time had come to try them out. What I had to do was to round the boat up to about 70 degrees to the wind, heave-to and reef. First of all I reminded myself of the secret I had found - to keep my hands off the sheets and leave the dagger board fully raised. Now I gently put down the tiller and began luffing to bring the boat off the dead run. As she turned, I reduced the heeling tendency by keeping the dagger board up and leaving the boom penned to the shrouds. The water roared under the hull as the boat side slipped, but the manoeuvre was smooth and safe, and soon the boat lay beam on to the wind and lost speed as the sail feathered. From this position I could easily power up the boat by sheeting in and lowering the centre board, but I on this occasion I needed to heave-to.

Therefore, I let the boat completely stop, then put down the helm and clipped it in position. I sheeted-in slightly until the boat headed up to weather a little and lowered the dagger board to reduce leeway. I then held the sheet in position by treading on it, leaving both hands free! I was now hove-to under mainsail and began the reefing procedure. As the Mirror has a rather heavy Gunter rig, my first step was to lower the yard to its reefed position and swig up the addition halliard I have provided to pull the yard snugly against the mast. During this operation the boom is supported by twin topping lifts which also act as lazy jacks, catching the sail when it is lowered. Next I eased the vang and hauled down the sail using the reefing pendants. Finally, I tied in some of the reefing points, though I found it impossible to reach them all, and centering the tiller, the boat bore away down wind again, a little slower, but this time feeling very steady and fit for anything.

Soon the Starting Tower came in sight, surrounded by a fleet of Cats waiting to start a race, but I noticed that the waves increased in the vicinity of Lymington entrance, maybe to do with the salty sea waves trying to climb over the fresh water from the river. Once through the busy traffic channel the wooded landscape ashore became even more featureless, and I could certainly not see anything resembling a creek. I tried to take a bearing of Yarmouth and it placed me near Pitts Deep, but still no boats or anything were visible. Then I noticed a boat anchored inshore and some vehicles parked on a beach. Not knowing the depth available I decided to go in at right angles to the shore and investigate. As I approached, the seas steepened and I could see surf breaking at the entrance to what now emerged as a little creek. Soon I was inside and brought the boat up in a side creek. I shouted across in the high wind to the only person on the shore, "Is this place called Pitt's Deep"? The answer came "No, you need the next creek, about a mile further on".

So out to sea again, a long way out, to avoid a shoal where the seas were breaking, and a further run along the coast. Then back towards the shore at the place the man had described. I could not see an entrance of any sort but kept blind faith that I would find a way in. Then ahead of me I saw a passage between the shingle banks, and shooting inside found sheltered creeks and pools. I landed on the only piece of mud-free beach - the first boat to arrive. Later I saw a small but rolling dot approaching, and it was Keith Holdsworth in his GP14. Liz Baker did not arrive from her epic voyage from Chichester in Tessa until quite late and Keith and I had given up expecting anyone else and gone to the pub.

What of the return journey? In the morning the little fleet, with everything stowed and lashed down, worked their way out of the creek under oars. Once outside, the boats sat rolling and bobbing like ducks whilst the sails were hoisted, and then filled away in three directions - east, west and south. Liz for Cowes, Keith for Newtown and I would return to Keyhaven.

To my amazement, the wind had reversed its direction overnight, and I had another fast run home with a following tide the whole way. The silly quotation ran through my head "Gentlemen do not sail to windward". This time I kept the full mainsail up but tacked downwind by "wearing ship" to avoid the beam seas which were giving me violent rolling and to avoid an accidental gybe. All too soon I was once again gliding between the green banks of the Keyhaven River - a short cruise but a successful one. And my horizons had been extended to the Western Solent. Next cruise, to the Wight? ... maybe.