Despite the haze, the sun is hot. Without wind or swell, the sea is millpond smooth. Two miles away to starboard the vague brown shape of Heysham Power Station is just visible. Relaxed, and feeling pleased with ourselves at having found our way from Barrow in the fog, B and I in the Drascombe Coaster are slowly chugging back towards Arnside, which is about ten miles distant. It is about three hours to high water on a spring tide. “I can see breakers,” says B, and I peer ahead through the binocular at a minute distant splash of white half lost in haze and mirage. Presently we find we are running parallel with a bank which has not yet covered away to port. Another bank appears some way ahead and we debate whether there is a gap between them. A few waves seem to be breaking on the bank ahead.

In a moment the scene changes, rather as a collection of ink spots on a page suddenly become a man's face: the millpond is no longer still. It is moving at five or six knots, and the bank, being fixed, is approaching equally rapidly. Moreover, the breakers have spread right across it and are advertising their presence with an ominous roar. I have a brief sickening memory flash of a boat thumping helplessly sideways across a fast-covering bank… and that sea wasn't breaking. B turns the boat and I sprint forward and heave out the 15 lb Danforth, 20’ of chain, and 20’ of rope — 10 times the depth of the water. The boat snatches head to tide and I feel in the cable the jerking of an anchor dragging along the bottom. I yell to B for more power and he gives the 7.5 hp Mercury Saildrive full throttle. We just manage to hold off the bank while I retrieve the hook. Then slowly we begin to gain against the tide. A quarter of a mile from the bank, and mindful of our diminishing fuel supply, I heave out the Danforth again with 60’ of warp, but it still drags when the engine is shut down and so is quickly followed by the 2 kg Bruce + chain and all its warp. Depth is 6’. Both anchors appear to be dragging. Out comes the last of the collection, an ancient 10 lb CQR, which I shackle onto the Danforth’s warp hoping it will slide down and bite as a tandem anchor or at least act as an angel; however, the flow of water past the cable is so fast that it is thrown back against the bow. I am just contemplating raising the Danforth to attach the CQR as a proper tandem anchor (it won't hold on its own without chain and all ours is in use) when B says he can see a white house on our starboard beam somewhere on the Cumbrian coast and he thinks it is holding still relative to the boat. I pull out the HB compass and confirm that the house is indeed on a constant bearing. Sigh, switch off engine, collapse shaking in cockpit and look for coffee flask. Apart from the gurgle of the tide, peace settles once more over the boat. We stay at anchor for 1½ hours, and eat lunch during which the banks cover and the breakers retreat until none can be seen even through the binocular. Cautiously we raise anchors and set out once more for Arnside. The haze is thicker now and we are not very sure of our position, having lost track somewhat… but that's another story.