NOVEMBER 2015 http://www.yachtingmonthly.com 37HOME WATERS
was 10 metres from the mud beach, but
we couldn’t get the dog ashore because
there wasn’t anywhere to land. He howled
through the night. It was like being in a
scene from a horror film.’
‘We had the Internet, we had radar, but
we felt alone and isolated’ says Rose. ‘We
could have been on the dark side of the
moon rather than just off the Kent coast.’
After one night with two anchors just
about holding Isabella, they did a runner.
Coming out of the Medway and into the
Thames, they hit a 55-knot headwind.
‘We were going upriver on the flood,’
Jeff says. ‘We had wind over tide. The
waves were mostly two to three metres
high, but the odd four-metre rogue
monster really knocked us about.
‘The bow was forced off course by the
wind, while waves were breaking
over it every 30 seconds, sending
spray flying back into my face.
We were making one knot. The
dinghy swirled round and round
in mid-air, I pulled it aboard and
lashed it down before we lost it.
I needed to get my coat on, but
couldn’t let go of the tiller long
enough to even try.’
The plan was to get to St
Katharine Docks in central
London, but soaked to the
skin, emotionally drained and
with no let-up on the weather
front, Jeff called Gravesend
Yacht Club. After explaining the
predicament, he was offered a
free mooring for the night. It
had taken them six hours to get there from
Queenborough.
The following day, they battled
through more massive waves to arrive
at St Katharine Docks. ‘The highlight
was walking to Waitrose for a bottle of
champagne,’ Jeff recalls. They stayed four
weeks at a cost of £600. ‘It was a bargain
for a month in the world’s greatest city.’
With time marching on, it was full speed
ahead for Whitby. They sailed north, only
anchoring in Brightlingsea in Essex and
the River Ore and the River Deben in
Suffolk. By now, Jeff was tired of two and
three mile rows and had bought a 2hp
outboard. ‘But it barely pushed us along
quicker than I can now row.’
They completed their first overnight
sail, from Lowestoft to Scarborough,leaving only the last short hop to Whitby.
‘It could have gone all pear-shaped and
the wedding called off,’ Rose says. ‘But we
proved we worked well as a team. I don’t
know many people who would have cruised
from Plymouth to Whitby, confined in such
a small space for five months. There’s no
room for arguments.’
Isabella was hauled out at Whitby and
laid up in Coates Marine for the winter.
Now married, Jeff and Rose continued
to live aboard through one of the worst
winters for years. Their only convenience
was an old loo in the yard.
The sailing had been exciting thus far,
but as Rose and Jeff continued north the
following year they soon discovered that
life on board was about to change forever.
‘It was in the not-so-romantic Hartlepool
Marina toilets that I found out
I was pregnant,’ Rose explains.
‘I nearly fell off the pontoon on
the walk back to the boat. I was in
shock. It wasn’t planned.’
Bound for the Caledonian
Canal, they stopped at
Tynemouth and anchored off a
small beach outside the harbour.
‘It wasn’t a pleasant place and
the weather was grim,’ Jeff told
me. ‘We had the fear of people
rowing over and attacking us.’
They continued north, anchoring
at Holy Island for one of the
journey’s highlights. ‘There
were so many seals and the water
was so clear,’ Rose recalls.
The Thames had not been easy, so reaching London was a relief ‘It was magical.’The water was
teeming with
seals at the
anchorage on
Holy Island