Liz brings us a few words and pictures from her mid-winter sail with Des from Titchmarsh Marina to Stone Point and back.
For a few years now, Christmas has been difficult for me. Normal life stops, people disappear, places are closed. It can be lonely. When I was a nurse, I often worked at Christmas, looking after those who were in need of care and, for those patients in hospital who didn’t have any visitors, I liked to feel useful. A couple of years ago I fulfilled my dream of having Christmas Day with my Mum and dog on my boat ‘Rhapsody’ an Anderson 22. We cooked steak with peppercorn sauce and heated vegetables on the minimalist gas hob. It was fantastic, the river was still, the sky clear and sunny. We ate our meal looking out over the River Orwell at Pin Mill. I was in my element.
Two years later, on the day before New Years Eve, I woke up and reached out to see the time on my phone. There were WhatsApp messages on the OGA group chat. I noticed Des had offered the opportunity to go for a sail. I missed being on the water over the winter. Among the messages was one from my bank saying I didn’t have enough money in my account for an electric arrears bill. This brought my excitement of possibly going sailing down to a crash. I called my bank. After the call I noticed Des had said he was setting off at 11am. It was now 10am and it would take me an hour to get there. I messaged Des to ask if I could sail with him. He agreed and said he would wait for me. Throwing clothes into a bag I grabbed my dog Lottie and her coat. I realised that in my haste I hadn’t brought any food for Lottie, I jumped into the shop on the way and picked up some ham, jumping back in the truck and driving to Titchmarsh Marina.
Des met me at the marina; his boat ‘Gilda’ was all ready to go, the sun was shining and the sky clear. My eyes widened at the sight of her. Des had restored her beautifully and she was a sight to behold. As I stepped aboard all my troubles dissolved. We cast off. We were leaving 40 minutes later than intended making the shallow river challenging. Des hiked on the main halyard and we set sail towards Stone Point. The barges that had been sunk to act as a sea defence sat above us on the bank as we meandered through the shallow water. The breeze was icy but the sun felt warm on the skin. Lottie, wrapped up in her coat and blanket, sniffed the air. We turned the corner and approached a floating vessel on anchor.
Des told me her story; ‘Welderup’, a comical name given to the metal, floating catamaran that the owner built for his welding workshop. We saw the owner later scooting past on a small floating platform driven by two outboard engines looking rather relaxed legs crossed sitting on a director’s chair. Puffs of cigarette smoke backlit by the low winter sun framed his silhouette. A character I’d be quite interested to meet I thought. My father, a blacksmith and also a sailor would have been impressed with his combination of the two making a floating welding business. We tacked round back towards Stone Point and Des suggested we stop for lunch and a walk. At this point big black eyes and a slinky black head appeared out of the water, a slash of a flipper and it was gone, only for the seal to pop up again and take another look at us. I have a fond affiliation with seals, thinking of them as a kind of marine guardian angel. Many a time I’ve been sailing single handed and come across a squall or a challenging time on ‘Rhapsody’. As if by magic the comforting big eyes and dog like face would appear to let me know I wasn’t alone. Once I woke to set sail for a trip to find a large adult seal draped over my tender, ignoring my efforts to encourage him to disembark.
I had always wanted to stop at Stone Point and walk on the sand and Lottie would be happy to run around. Des gently beached ‘Gilda’ on the sandy bank and put the kettle on. This was reminiscent of sailing on the Norfolk Broads where I would often glide into the reeds to hold my boat steady and lower my mast before going under low bridges. Des kindly offered me a hot drink some of his home made bread and to share his lunch. I offered him the honey and mustard ham bought for Lottie! On Stone Point the views were stunning and from a certain angle could be mistaken for some beautiful Mediterranean island. Looking out to sea we could see the jumping of the water as the waves separated, revealing the normally hidden sandbanks. Des said we could almost walk to Harwich. He’d noticed that lately the tides had been unusually low and discovered there had been a recent negative surge to cause this. As we walked Des talked of how some of the local sailors of the older generation would camp for days at Stone Point as young boys, it was regarded as their annual camping holiday with fishing and campfires.
We used the tender to get back onboard and Des took up the anchor, ‘Gilda’ gracefully slipped back into the water and turned to face home. We set sail. Grey and white clouds began to billow out behind us and the wind picked up. I enjoyed setting the sails to goose wing. “There’s a rainbow”, Des said. I turned to see a Turner-style sky and bright rainbow colours appearing below. “It was meant to be,” I said. What more could I have asked for? Beautiful views, nature, sailing, friendship, kindness and generosity; thank you Des and ‘Gilda’ for making my Christmas and New Year a memorable one.
Words and photos: Elizabeth Reynolds
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