Stay for the summer? Or time to move?
This blog has been moved over to the new website. You can find the updated version https://sailingsouth.org/stay-for-the-summer-or-time-to-move/
Getting back to sea after an extended stay somewhere can be a wrench, particularly when part of me feels that there is so much more to stay for. But then sometimes circumstances tell us that it is time to move on, time to leave with memories for company.
The Classic Regatta
The weekend of the 9th to the 11th was the Classic Regatta at Haven Ports Yacht Club. The marina played host to some beautiful old classic boats, both motor and sail. There were old gaff rigged boats, beautiful Folkboats and modern classics, modern boats built to look like old classic boats but with a few modern touches. Some readers may not know what any of that means, but to a Sea Gypsy like me this was boat porn at its best. Boats like this take an awful lot of expertise and time, not to mention an almost endless expense, to keep looking as good as these boats did. It was suggested by one of the bar staff that I should ask to go and to crew on one of them, but I'm not a racing sailor, wandering the pontoons looking at these beautiful boats was enough for me.
And the sun was out in force. On the Sunday I could have departed, but I now felt I was at home here, almost part of the furniture in the club house. With the atmosphere of the regatta and meeting more and more new people I was easily seduced into staying.
As I left Felixstowe I was suddenly invaded by a mass of flying insects. It was a swarm, but containing all different shapes and sizes of the most annoying little critters imaginable. Yellow and black things, tiny flies and their medium sized bigger brothers, midges and mozzies, it felt like they had been sent to test me, and I was about to fail that test. They descended as the boat left the river and didn't leave for about 5 hours, not helped by a lack of wind to blow them away. Now I'm usually kind to creatures and critters, but this was too much, it felt biblical in nature. I was literally standing on them as I moved about the cockpit and could get them just by slapping my hand anywhere, legs, arms, seats, they had literally invaded my boat. At one point I went inside only to discover even more of the beasties. I now had to get the fly spray out, I just filled the cabin with toxic fumes. When I finally moored up at the end of the day I had to get the hoover out before I could sit down! I went out for dinner that night.
I had ended up with quite a few bites from the biblical plague of critters on Monday, and with that and the excessive sun after being out all day on Monday I took a couple of days out. I ended up going to consult the friendly local pharmacist about all the bites because the anti-bite cream I have on the boat was not coping with all it was having to do. We agreed on some antihistamines which certainly took the edge off so I could get some sleep without scratching my skin raw.
I spent a couple of days in Ramsgate, largely licking my wounds (not literally, that would be gross!) and feeling quite unwell, which was a timely reminder to make sure I drink enough in the heat when I'm sailing alone. Ramsgate was a stark contrast to the tree lined picturesque peace of Suffolk Yacht Harbour, the background drone of cars and wagons going about their business in the town port mingled with the deep, monotonous tone of the workboats coming and going from the port. The smell of fumes contrasted so starkly with the waft of trees and the river I had had for the past few weeks.
Finally I did move on again. I left earlier than I should really have done on Thursday and ended up pushing against the tide for a while. This made for a slower passage and a longer day than it needed to be, but for once I didn't mind. My head had been turned from this whole trip by my stay in Suffolk, if I was going to continue then I needed to get my head back into its normal place. Spending the day at sea drifting against the tide gave me time for contemplation. I don't like to go through my life blindly doing and thinking the same things all the way through. I want to be open to new experiences, ideas and particularly friends. Rather than making assumptions about people and their motives I prefer to build my friendships on openness and honesty, because I care about who a person is. Sometimes people mistrust this approach to life and make the assumption that there is some hidden motivation or agenda. However when time permits I get to know people, then mostly they see the real me, sometimes we even get on! Having spent so much time in Suffolk I needed to process my experiences and friendships that I had gained. Leaving had felt like such a loss.
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| Just a few of the beautiful boats on show at Classic week in Suffolk Yacht Harbour |
And the sun was out in force. On the Sunday I could have departed, but I now felt I was at home here, almost part of the furniture in the club house. With the atmosphere of the regatta and meeting more and more new people I was easily seduced into staying.
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| Folkboats get into every harbour there is it seems. This design is now over 80 years old and still being built around the world. |
Leaving with a heavy heart
On the Monday the weather was calm, almost too calm, but I suddenly felt it was time to move on. The friendship and companionship of the staff and the kindness of members of the yacht club and boat owners around the marina all made it particularly hard to leave, and I oh so nearly didn't go.
I have said before that I have considered changing the name of my boat to Christine [after the car in the Stephen King story]. Isosceles doesn't take over my life in quite the same way, but I often feel she is trying to tell me something. When I was left holding one of the bathroom cupboard doors in my hand that morning as both hinges had just completely given way suddenly and together, then maybe she was trying to gently tell me to stay.
Sailing out past the huge container port that is Felixstowe was like passing another world after the peace of Suffolk Yacht Harbour. The clanking and banging of the containers being moved was mixed in with the constant grumble of engines as lorries and cranes all moved in a tightly choreographed, modern, supersized industrial ballet. Containers were carefully plucked from the decks of the huge ships bringing goods from half way around the globe, swung through the air with the greatest of ease and landed with precision on the trains and lorries waiting on the dock side to whisk them away so the whole process could be repeated, carefully and methodically so as not to upset the balance of the ship and its cargo. These vessels may look like they can cope with anything, but the containers are carefully matched and positioned to provide balance and stability to these behemoths of the sea.
Sailing out past the huge container port that is Felixstowe was like passing another world after the peace of Suffolk Yacht Harbour. The clanking and banging of the containers being moved was mixed in with the constant grumble of engines as lorries and cranes all moved in a tightly choreographed, modern, supersized industrial ballet. Containers were carefully plucked from the decks of the huge ships bringing goods from half way around the globe, swung through the air with the greatest of ease and landed with precision on the trains and lorries waiting on the dock side to whisk them away so the whole process could be repeated, carefully and methodically so as not to upset the balance of the ship and its cargo. These vessels may look like they can cope with anything, but the containers are carefully matched and positioned to provide balance and stability to these behemoths of the sea.
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| The port of Felixstowe is the biggest and busiest in the country dealing with nearly 50% of the container imports into the UK. |
As I left Felixstowe I was suddenly invaded by a mass of flying insects. It was a swarm, but containing all different shapes and sizes of the most annoying little critters imaginable. Yellow and black things, tiny flies and their medium sized bigger brothers, midges and mozzies, it felt like they had been sent to test me, and I was about to fail that test. They descended as the boat left the river and didn't leave for about 5 hours, not helped by a lack of wind to blow them away. Now I'm usually kind to creatures and critters, but this was too much, it felt biblical in nature. I was literally standing on them as I moved about the cockpit and could get them just by slapping my hand anywhere, legs, arms, seats, they had literally invaded my boat. At one point I went inside only to discover even more of the beasties. I now had to get the fly spray out, I just filled the cabin with toxic fumes. When I finally moored up at the end of the day I had to get the hoover out before I could sit down! I went out for dinner that night.
I had ended up with quite a few bites from the biblical plague of critters on Monday, and with that and the excessive sun after being out all day on Monday I took a couple of days out. I ended up going to consult the friendly local pharmacist about all the bites because the anti-bite cream I have on the boat was not coping with all it was having to do. We agreed on some antihistamines which certainly took the edge off so I could get some sleep without scratching my skin raw.
I spent a couple of days in Ramsgate, largely licking my wounds (not literally, that would be gross!) and feeling quite unwell, which was a timely reminder to make sure I drink enough in the heat when I'm sailing alone. Ramsgate was a stark contrast to the tree lined picturesque peace of Suffolk Yacht Harbour, the background drone of cars and wagons going about their business in the town port mingled with the deep, monotonous tone of the workboats coming and going from the port. The smell of fumes contrasted so starkly with the waft of trees and the river I had had for the past few weeks.
Finally I did move on again. I left earlier than I should really have done on Thursday and ended up pushing against the tide for a while. This made for a slower passage and a longer day than it needed to be, but for once I didn't mind. My head had been turned from this whole trip by my stay in Suffolk, if I was going to continue then I needed to get my head back into its normal place. Spending the day at sea drifting against the tide gave me time for contemplation. I don't like to go through my life blindly doing and thinking the same things all the way through. I want to be open to new experiences, ideas and particularly friends. Rather than making assumptions about people and their motives I prefer to build my friendships on openness and honesty, because I care about who a person is. Sometimes people mistrust this approach to life and make the assumption that there is some hidden motivation or agenda. However when time permits I get to know people, then mostly they see the real me, sometimes we even get on! Having spent so much time in Suffolk I needed to process my experiences and friendships that I had gained. Leaving had felt like such a loss.
Bimbling along in just 7 knots of wind from pretty much right behind the boat and the foresail out, the only sound being the almost turquoise water gurgling past Isosceles' hull. The waves rolled the boat gently, but not enough to upset the rhythm of the boat, and the sun was beaming down ... The only interruptions were the deep, lonely, mournful clanging of the bells within the navigation marker buoys along the channels and sandbanks. Sailing at sea can be almost meditative at times, and I needed this.
