Yachting Monthly – March 2018

Nick Ardley and his wife Christobel

discover the joy of cruising amidst

salt, marsh and mud

A

purposeful northerly wind

flicked at the burgee as

we bustled from the South

Channel, Tollesbury, before

clearing the Nass and heading

towards Osea Island. Near the ebb, the River

Blackwater has a defined prettier route, with

sightings of ancient fish traps, old piers and

wrecks all adding to the allure.

Reaching Osea, we spotted the Barnacle

buoy, conveniently marking Lawling Creek’s

entrance. We soon breezed in on the fresh flood,

clearing a soft muddy bar, following a buoyed

channel. I got rid of the jib.

Approaching Mundon Stone Point, a host

of seals could be seen basking along the

creek’s northern mud edges. We gazed in awe.

‘The normal place?’ Christobel asked,

prodding me.

I nodded, ‘I’ll ready the anchor.’

‘Drop the main sail after rounding up,’ she

smiled. ‘Three metres.’

‘Okay,’ I called. The boat slewed. The mainsail

slatted as our way stalled against the flood.

The anchor splashed overboard. Behind me,

the main slithered down as some younger seals

mud-tobogganed with a whoosh into the water.

The inquisitive ones came close, twitching their

whiskers, before making ‘runs’ for the mud again.

Knotting the last mainsail lashing, the kettle

sang from below. I grinned as I heard the clatter

of plates and mugs. Setting the cockpit

table ready, I rigged our boom tent,

providing protection from the sun’s

ultra-violet menace, folded back as

desired. We were nicely set, anchored

north of Mayland Creek.

With a drink in hand and munching

on a late light lunch, we watched

seals while curlews and myriads

of waders foraged. On shell banks

around Mayland Creek’s entrance,

oystercatchers squabbled over

tasty morsels.

As the tide rose, yachts and youngsters

crewing colourful dinghies passed by. I’ve often

dinghy sailed into Mayland Creek and worked

up to where Pigeon Dock once hosted traders

by the sluiced headwaters. Within a marshy

indent is another old barge wharf where refuse

was once offloaded. The dreamy afternoon

seeped into us, and quietness settled over the

ship as heads nodded.

We had lamb chops for supper, purchased

from Tollesbury’s butcher. I’m the evening cook,

and these were enjoyed grilled with a mixed

salad and a glass of something, alfresco.

Leaving my mate to clear up, I went out in

the dinghy. The tide was low, the breeze was

faltering, but as I slipped along with the setting

sun colouring the water, I remembered berthing

at an old wharf near Brickhouse Farm. A broken

sheepfold or hay store from earlier

times was discernibly close by. Later, we enjoyed

a sublime evening and as darkness descended,

watched as the sky became prickled with stars.

The next morning was spent ‘scrubbing off’

and watching terns feed. We could have stayed

longer but we needed stores, so on the flood, we

crept into the Blackwater Marina where showers

and bonhomie were enjoyed.

Uncovering

the secrets of

Lawling Creek

CRUISING LOG

Two gaffers pass by...

Lawling Creek

It’s a hard life

for the local seals

The beautiful old dock

by Brickhouse Farm

NICK ARDLEY

Nick lived on a spritsail

barge as a child. In 1983,

he and Christobel

bought a Finesse 24

together, Whimbrel