Our Fourth Season Draws to a Close

And so began the final leg of this season's cruise, the voyage down the North Sea and back to Blighty. A mighty high pressure (we hear you had nothing but all summer) sat over the British Isles promised a smooth if engine-powered few days and we took full advantage.

We started off in company with friends we had made on a yacht called Kelloggs. Barry and Selene had also cruised The Baltic this summer and were hurrying back in a race to beat the arrival of a new grandchild. We needed to head back to the Dover Straits for our crossing while Kelloggs could do the direct crossing to Harwich and so we parted company at Ijmuiden, waving goodbye to their jolly mainsail, which bears the cockerel's head made famous by the corn-flakes packet.

On our way south we made another visit to Scheveningen, where we were amused by a new regulation, rigidly enforced, dictating that all craft must berth with their bows facing out of the harbour entrance. Fire regulations apparently. We argued at first that yachts are just as fast and often more manoeuvrable astern. The sheepish harbourmaster agreed and suggested that the fire department was more experienced dealing with land borne vehicles. Long live European bureaucracy!

Having read the news of the sinking of the Tricolor laden with Volvo and BMW cars, and then endured six months of hourly bombardment with safety warnings on our Navtex, we were keen to divert and view the salvage operation. You are not allowed closer than two miles and we had to remain clear of the shipping lanes in the vicinity but the salvage operation was hugely impressive and would dwarf the dockside equipment of many ports.

After a week of good weather we actually arrived back in Britain ahead of schedule and planned a small East Coast cruise. On the way we would stop in Ramsgate, Burnham on Crouch and Heybridge Basin to meet friends and relatives from this part of the world before exploring the Orwell or the Stour. The weather changed and we made it to Ramsgate and Burnham before deciding on a tactical withdrawal to Chatham - handy for the trip up the Thames to St Katharines.

While in Burham Chris' parents collected us for lunch and we were treated to round-the-block trips in Chris' Dad's 1912 Renault AX, called 'Justine' she is largely original, even down to the paint, and drew waves and smiles from many of the cars we passed. Those cars behind held up by our top speed of 35 miles per hour were possibly not so amused.

Our last bit of adventure before arriving back at St Katharines, where we shall brave the winter again, was being boarded by Customs men from a rib as we were heading upriver. Two rather large chaps in black dry suits and crash helmets leapt aboard like commandoes from a WWII film. They had a good look round and were very disappointed that we had not stocked up with duty free on the continent. Neither could we satisfy them with any cigarettes or drugs but they could at least check our passports and logbook so it wasn't a totally wasted trip for them. After the formalities were completed they made quite an incongruous site sat in the cockpit, one with Poppy on his knee playing with his crash helmet on her little head!

Now we are sat in St Katharines, putting the boat to bed for the winter and making her ready for guests once again, before making more plans . . . . . .