The River Run

Dad won't abide the thought of me climbing our mast.

I've climbed taller trees, much taller. And rock faces. And buildings. I was playing with ropes and carabiners and improvising climbing harnesses long before I really got interested in sailing. Even now, some thirty years on from heyday of most of my simian antics, a 10m mast doesn't present too much of an obstacle. It already has safety lines rigged, in effect. And I'd love to get a photo from the top of it.

But nope, he's not happy with the idea at all. I could push the issue, but I can see how uncomfortable it makes him.

"If you managed to climb all the way up, you'd never work out how to change the bulb" was the last reason for putting me off. For the record, I can change a bulb.

Anyway. Dad wants to change the deck-lights that shine down from our spreaders for LED's. Whilst we're up there ("we" as in a general collective, as opposed to "we" including "me" for reasons just explained) we might as well also change the steaming light and anchor light for LED's. The nav lights are on the pulpit and pushpit, so within easy reach. Dad has already changed the stern light.

In addition to that, we had the main running lines replaced on the single-line reefing whilst the boat was in Swansea, but the man that did the job didn't renewal the forward running pennants, and they really need doing.

The upshot is that Dad made arrangements with Jamie of Traditional Rigging to take care of all of the above. He's based at Underfall Yard in Bristol's Floating Harbour, so we had to deliver the boat to him last Saturday. Which led me to suspect that this work, all of it nice to have but for the moment, none of it essential, was in large part just an excuse for Dad to take the boat up the Avon, through the sea lock and into Bristol.

It was a nice run. The river usually is.

We had the first lock of Saturday morning's tide booked out of Portishead for 0800. High water was about noon in Bristol, and they were expecting us for a 1000 lock in. It rained for the duration of the drive down to Portishead, but it eased and then stopped completely as we made ready to cast off. The rest of the morning remained grey and overcast but otherwise dry.

We shared the lock out with five other vessels; cod season in all but upon us now, and they were all bristling with rods and hooks and enthusiastically eager anglers keen for the morning's chase. There was a slight chop pushing as the lock gates opened to let us out, 10 knots of north-easterly made Portishead a lee shore and dampened any notion I might have had of hauling up the sails for the mile's run up to the mouth of the Avon.

Depends what you read and who you talk to, but boats are nominally supposed to report in on the VHF to Bristol VTS if they're entering the river. I did so as we were passing the gates of Royal Portbury, and was somewhat testily informed by the operator that if I was now approaching the mouth of the river, I was obviously clear of the shipping in King Road, the obvious subtext being what was I therefore bothering him for? It's a fair point. His only interest in folk like me is that we stay clear of his shipping, and it's very clear to me, barring darkness or fog, what's going on in the King Road without bothering VTS to find out.

The fifty minute run up the river was picturesque as always. The engine was quiet, barely more than ticking over just enough to give us steerage whilst the flooding tide did the bulk of the work. High, muddy banks gave way to rocky cliff faces, wreathed with overhanging, arboreal woodland, the atmosphere at times primeval, disturbed only by the calling of birds and the occasional rolling of fish on the surface of the heavily silted water.

We called up City Docks Radio on the VHF to announce our arrival as we turned into the final straight running under the iconic Clifton Suspension Bridge at about 0938, having made very good time on the tide. We were greeted warmly by the harbour master, and invited to make our way up and stem the tide off the knuckle of the harbour wall whilst they cleared the outbound traffic currently locking down to the river.

Locking in was hassle free, having the spacious sea lock entirely to ourselves. They took our lines up and passed them back to us so we could adjust them through our ascent.

The two not insignificant road bridges guarding the entrance and exit from Cumberland Basin beyond were swung in quick succession once we were up, the Bristol traffic waiting patiently whilst we traversed the basin into the floating harbour beyond with minimal waiting around on our part. And then it was a quick trot around the corner to come alongside a pontoon in Underfall Yard where we made the boat tidy and secure for Jamie to do the promised work in the week to come.

We're hoping, with the work done, to take her back down the river and home to Portishead next weekend.

The Weekend Cometh

Decision point. Double tide out on the estuary on Sunday; high water around 7am and 7pm respectively. Which means we could explore down channel from Lydney and still get back before dark.

Downside is that we've not been that way before so, whilst exploring unknown waters elsewhere isn't really a worry, dealing with the huge tides of the Severn Estuary on a 19' open sailing boat is not a challenge to be taken on lightly or in ignorance.

High water Sunday evening for the return is an 11.58m rise to deal with. And, of course, the thing with springs is that the high tides are HIGH and the low tides LOW, do there will be shoals and sandbanks galore to navigate.

In our favour is the weather forecast. It's going to blow like buggery tonight and tomorrow, and tomorrow brings the rain. But by Sunday it's supposed to drop off to a relatively moderate F3 southwesterly, a warmish day with sunny intervals. Perfect, in many ways, for a down-channel adventure.

We've discussed it, Dad and I, and have decided the decision will swing on whether or not we can convince any other boats out of Lydney to come down with us.

It's not looking promising so far.

However, the alternative plan is for H and I to race Penny in the Frampton Paddle, which is part of the club's Dave Evans Championship series. I don't normally sail enough of them to qualify, but this year looks like it may prove the exception.

We're currently ranked 5th out of 52 entries so far, but that's going to change as the series progresses and more boats qualify. If we can finish with a top 10 result by the end of the year then I'll be very happy as that will be a very satisfactory conclusion against what it usually a very strong  field.

But I digress. Bottom line is that I don't know what I'm doing on Sunday but whatever it is, it's going to be fun anyway.

Of Blue Skies and Warm Winds

The weekend just gone turned into the perfect end to a week sweltering in the office, staring out of the window at gorgeous, cobalt blue skies and the rustling trees, watching the glory of a British summer pass me by, tantalisingly close but just out of reach beyond the self-imposed prison bars of weekdays 9 till 5.

Friday hit, the weekend came crashing in, and miraculously and completely out of character, the weather held.

Saturday was an Open Day at Frampton Sailing Club, so we spent the day on the water giving joy-rides to visiting members of the public in the Club training boats; Gull Esprits and Wanderers. A stiff warm breeze and bright sunshine, it was everything sailing should be and a perfect advert for our sport and the club. We usually snare a handful of new members out of these events. I'm pretty certain from the feedback of the day that this one will turn to be no exception in that respect.

It was also the first day of the year of sailing in shorts and T-shirt. Hope there are many more to come!

I then had a gig that night in Bristol. Unusually, my wife Nikki had the night off from work so was able to come out to the gig with us. We had the full band, all members present and correct for a change; they played well and the music went down a storm with the crowd. A late night, but fun.

FOSSC Open Day

Sunday was the last day of Race Training for H, so she wanted to race single-handed again for the same reasons as before. Although that left Penny and I crewless and grounded, it's a small loss for a significant gain. The boost to her self-confidence, boat awareness and handling skills from both the course and the time spent sailing racing solo has been significant and marked, and is gaining us places when we do get to race with Penny.

Perfect Weekend Weather

I had the option of racing the Europe, who is, it must be said, weathering very well despite my continual neglect, but the forecast was for the strong Saturday blow to drop to a force 3 northeasterly by Sunday, and it remained a constant prediction through the week, and my friend Hayley was game for another blast around the Severn with her Wanderer again. No contest really.

"I've got no strings to tie me down" [FALSE]

Sunday was a due relatively small tide of 6.6m, nearing neaps, high water expected at Lydney for 12.27hrs, so we agreed to meet up at the yacht club for 10:00hrs. There was more wind in the morning than I'd expected, a definite force 4+, but still from the northeast as promised, so we erred on the side of caution and put a reef in the mainsail. Hayley's only just returning to sailing after some very serious surgery to her spine at the end of last year, so to risk any kind of upset on the water would have been irresponsible.

Drying Out

We launched with the vague plan of seeing how far up river we could get before the tide turned. With the wind set against the flood tide, the tidal flow of the Severn added 5kts to the windspeed, pushing it up another factor to a clear F5 and setting up a steep, breaking chop over the tidal races in the river. Peter and John were manning the Club rescue boat 'Braveheart', James was launching his Enterprise behind us, and there were a couple of SARA RIBS (Severn Area Rescue Association) out on exercise, one of them ambling over to us in curiosity to watch as we launched.



Admiraly Chart 1166



Despite the many witnesses we launched without mishap, got the foils down and set off across the river on a close reach towards Panthust Pill, waves crashing over the foredeck, thoroughly dowsing us in brackish spray. A double-masted motorsailor, tender in tow, was approaching Sharpness in the channel so we tacked away before we got too close and confused them with our intentions and headed upriver in a series of loose beats and close reaches, footing off for speed rather than height and letting the rush of the tide push us up river as much as our point of sail.

The third beat took us past Old Sharpness Dock where we saw the SARA boys preparing to recover one of their RIBS over the wall. Our next tack took us out towards Wellhouse Rock in a short beat before we tacked away again before getting caught up in the chop of the overfalls below the rock. A couple more tacks and we were past Purton, with the GPS on my mobile topping out with a maximum speed (VMG) of 9.36kts at one point. Not bad for upwind against a gusty F4 in a reefed 14' dinghy, and more credit to the flood tide than our sailing I suspect!

Past Purton and Tites Point, the centreboard began to ground out on the sandbank off The Royal Drift, a reminder that despite the ferocity and height of the tide we were close to neaps and vulnerable to, as the Admiralty Chart so sweetly describes this area of the river, "Changing Depths". The time was a few minutes before midday, so another half hour before top of tide, but rather than push on with the river and our luck we tacked and then bore away, reaching back across the river against the flood, surfing down the steep, breaking swell still being kicked up by the wind over tide.

We spent the next forty-five minutes tearing along on the plane in a series of broad reaches, the boat speed exhilarating but the actual speed over ground low and making them last forever with the tide now punching against us. Eventually the inevitable happened and the tide turned (again, as the Admiralty Chart relates, "There is practically no slack water" in this part of the world) and with the ebb the wind died to a whisper and the churning waters smoothed out to flat. We dropped off to a run and, goose-winging the jib, headed back to Lydney Harbour.



10.76nm covered in 2:20hrs afloat, 4.81kts avg VMG



Weekend plans

Had hoped to join the Lydney mob with Dad and Ondine for a down channel cruise and overnighter at St Pierre Pill between the Severn bridges this coming Saturday, but my long suffering, gorgeous wife Nikki has vetoed the idea, fairly pointing out that this will be the first Saturday night we've had in together since the beginning of February. It's a pity to miss the chance, but I can't argue with that and there will be other such trips later in the year.

It does however mean I'm around on Sunday to race for the Rosemunde Cup at Frampton. I very nearly won this last year in the Europe, loosing out only after at tie on discard to an Enterprise (I think the scoring system used sucks!) There was so much wind it was all but blowing dogs off their leads on the day. I still vivdly remember the second race in particular, and the shock of seeing most of the Laser fleet ahead towards the end of it, having thought I'd gotten well clear of them ages
earlier. I fought hard to pass them, managed it and then finished assuming I was therefore somewhere in the top third of the fleet; only to discover I'd actually lapped them and was at least three quarters of
a lap clear of the nearest competition.

I love sailing the Europe. Really going to have to think about selling her though, as my time on the water these days is completely absorbed between Penny and Ondine.

Anyway, the forecast for Sunday is looking like it'll be fun with Penny. Although we've proven it's not impossible to win races with her, for reasons I can't really fathom our best results seem to always come in a drift, which this weekend will be not. However, I would rather sail Penny in good company with my crew and struggle to better a mid-field finish than sail the Europe solo even if that could give me a shot at the front of the fleet.

And looking at the rain in the forecast, camping on the banks of St Pierre Pill this weekend would have been a damp affair anyway.

On the subject of pills however, I'll be lacking a crew again a week on Sunday as she's planning to race a Topper to complete the Race Training course she's spent the last six weeks on. There will be a 6.6m due on the Severn around lunchtime however, so might try and get up to Frampton from Lydney with Dad and Ondine to take a look at what the mouth of the pill looks like on a neap tide. Dry mud, I suspect. But the Noose is always an adventure.

Muddy Sundays

I got stood up by my crew this weekend, and Dad was busy jet-washing a caravan, so left to my own devices I managed to snag a sail with a friend in her Wanderer out of Lydney. I've got a soft spot for Wanderers, but also have an unfortunate habit of falling out of them as the toe straps are tricky to reach in the helm's position of you're hiking. That's my excuse, anyway.

The wind was in the southwest pushing past the top end of force 4, but the tide was on or nearing neaps, so only about five or six meters in it; slight for the estuary. All the same, it had the promise of being a little lively, especially once the tide turned to the ebb and started to run back against the wind.

It was an unusually busy day for Lydney, with two Wayfarers, an Enterprise and an Osprey joining us on the water. We launched an hour and a half before top with no mishap, and crossed the river, punching against the tide in a series of close tacks and tight beats along the far bank to enter Berkley Pill, just behind one of the Wayfarers.

It was then lots of tacking close hauled with the occasional bear away to a dead run and gybe or two within the claustrophobic and meandering path of the pill until we reached the top. The only real drama happened when I misjudged the bank on one tack, had the centre board pop up as it hit ground, and the resulting lack of steerage saw us indignantly pinned to a muddy lee shore. However, we managed to push ourselves back out with a paddle until deep enough to get the board back down, and were soon underway again.

Back out of the pill with another forty minutes until top of tide, we spent the time reaching back and forth across the turbulent river between Sharpness and Lydney; pure, unadulterated joyride, plain and simple. We were treated to the unexpected but pleasurable company of an old double-masted tall ship leaving the Sharpness Dock to head down channel. No idea who or what they were, but she was a gorgeous sight all the same.

 

Shortly after, surfing down the swell on a beam reach, I hiked out hard to pump the mainsail in as another gust hit, and missing the toestraps just as the next wave picked us up, tumbled inelegantly out of the back.

In such circumstances, I find it best to just cling onto whatever you've got. Better the crew joins you in getting wet than have them sail away without you. Not sure the crew would agree but you rarely have time to consult on these occasions!

I came spluttering back to the surface, mainsheet in hand, to the sight of the Wanderer beginning to heel hard as my dragging weight pulled the boom in and forced her to turn up into the wind. All the while the boat was still tearing along at a fair rate of knots in the blow.

Dragging myself up the mainsheet, I somehow managed to get a hand onto the starboard stern quarter before she heeled to far, hauled my face up above the gunwale and politely requested my crew take the tiller and hold it steady for a moment. Their face is always a picture when they turn around and realise you're gone; yes, this has happened to me before. Then as the next wave surged under us, I hauled myself in to the surprise and amusement of my host and crew. She later told me that as I slid aboard over the transom that I looked like a performing seal.

The rest of the day's sail went without mishap and we were back ashore at Lydney within the hour, washing the boat down before retiring to the bar to recharge and refuel.

The Noose

Some more photos from last week's adventure up the Severn for the Newnham Tea Clipper out of Lydney. Most of the shots on the water were taken by Dad aboard Ondine from up at the top of the Noose where the flood tide shoals up and seems to wash back with a vengence from Hock Cliff. Interesting place, and just a little bit scary at times :)

Four paws on the ground makes the muddy slip so much more user friendly

The trailer makes launching and recovering a breeze

Albeit not without a little winching involved

Afloat, Sharpness Dock in the background

The Noose

Debris

Shoaling waters

Frampton is somewhere over there

The neck of the Noose ahead

Burying her nose in it; no way to treat a lady!

The relative calm of Newnham and a welcome breakfast

Newnham Tea Clipper 2012

0534hrs Quedgeley, Gloucester

0544hrs Sunrise, eastern sky aglow

0557hrs A46, view towards Gloucester

0628hrs Lydney, awaiting the tide

0631hrs Sharpness

0632hrs Lydney, view upriver

0736hrs Lydney, company for the journey

0752hrs Lydney, tide on the flood

0752hrs Lydney, launching 'Ondine'

0759hrs Off Lydney, afloat and away

0810hrs Off Sharpness, no looking back

0810hrs Off Sharpness, company ahead

0838hrs Off Awre, shoaling waters of The Noose

0918hrs Newnham, breakfast well earned

0929hrs Newnham, bragging rights

0939hrs Newnham, patiently awaiting the turn

0941hrs Newnham, welcome stragglers

1021hrs Off Newnham, beneath the church

1025hrs Off Newnham, our brief lead

1303hrs Lydney Yacht Club, reward & restoration

7th May 2012, Newnham Tea Clipper, there and back again