One of the great pleasures of a dinghy is enjoying the odd day's wonderful winter sailing when the big boats are laid up.

The tides sluice in and out of the tidal creeks and estuaries of the East Coast all through the year - winter as well as summer - and it has long been my practice to keep my 16ft Wayfarer afloat during the off-season to take advantage of the occasional wonderful sailing - cold clear sparkling weather, the lonely marshes often surprisingly beautiful with reed and vegetation glowing golden in the low sun. It can be warm too running downwind, and fast passages can be made with a favourable tide under, and almost always Wanderer is the only boat afloat. But care is needed. Tide-against-wind can put up a short sea in these shallow waters: And in the estuaries a boat tends to sail round her mooring and if conditions deteriorate she rolls, and risks a capsize. Thus it has been my habit to lower the mast if anything above force 7 is predicted.

Years ago, Peter Beck of Burnham Overy Staithe had explained to me why boats capsize on moorings. It happens when the two primary nautical forces, wind and tide, are opposed - the wind on the mast in one direction and the current pushing the hull the opposite way.

In a heavy NW-W'ly light boats capsize just before high water, as this blows directly along the channel and puts up a sea in the creek, and it also backs up the current so that it comes in with a greater rush. Opposing wind and tide cause a moored boat to sheer about, and when the forces balance she will lay beam on and capsize. With mast lowered the boat 'weathercocks' and sailing round her mooring is much reduced.

I missed both the 5.54pm 'Shipping' forecast and the midnight 'Inshore Marine' forecast, although this was not a particularly serious matter in a spell of settled weather with Wanderer on a sheltered mooring in Overy Staithe on the North Norfolk coast.

A tremendous gust battered the end wall of my cottage and woke me at 4 am when the water would be flooding into the creeks at maximum speed, and I knew immediately that Wanderer would be in trouble, probably capsized, but there was nothing I could do until daylight. The early morning 'Inshore' forecast was “NW force 9 decreasing “.

At first light I found Wanderer on her side, her starboard gunwhale 18“ deep in the mud, hull half full of sand and mud and seaweed, masthead driven deep into the bed of the creek by the racing ebb. She had capsized just before HW and after the tide turned the strong ebb reinforced by the storm force NW'ly wind on the capsized hull had driven the masthead far down into the mud, and even from the road I could see the mast was bent at the hounds.

As the staithe dried I waded across and began digging down 4ft to the top of the mast. The sand and mud ran back into the hole almost as fast as I shovelled, but after half an hour I had a considerable wall of spoil round the masthead.

“Morning” said Peter Beck at my elbow “Are you winning?” We watched in silence as the wall of spoil round the mast slowly settled back into the hole. “No” I reluctantly admitted. There was silence until I had to ask “What would you suggest?” “I wouldn't do it like that!” There was a long silence again.

“How'd you do it” I asked - “if it was your boat, Peter?”

“Well, The hull's set firm in the mud so it's not going to move, so I'd undo the shrouds and forestay, move the foot of the mast aft out of the tabernacle, then we'll give the hull a push upright, and we'll be able to pull the mast out of the sand just like recovering a spear.”

It worked a treat. In 5 minutes Peter had the job done - 3 minutes for the shrouds and forestay, 30 seconds for a push on the hull and 10 seconds to free the mast. I realised that he had been watching me work up a sweat for some time before walking across and offering his advice.

“Why didn't you tell me earlier, Peter?” I wondered. “I’ve always found that there's no point in offering advice until a person is in the right mood to accept it!” said Peter philosophically.

I wiped the remaining sweat from my brow, and thanked him: remembering with a grin, that this attitude is common to the highly skilled craftsmen of Norfolk. He had watched me digging for at least half an hour before pulling on his waders and joining me!

A bucket of water down the mast cleared the mud from the sail groove, the sand and debris dug from inside the hull took longer: and I sailed back to Wells - with two reefs down as the headboard would not pass the bend. It only remained to straighten the mast with a hydraulic jack (My insurance had run out a week before).

What did I learn?

1. Listen to the forecast regularly, and lower the mast for anything more than Gale Force to reduce windage. Wanderer can safely survived force 9 on a mooring with her mast tied along the deck. 2. I have learned to straighten a mast with no more equipment than a light jack and a measuring stick 3. Ask the local boat builders for advice before starting to dig - they have seen it all before!