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Having seen an advert for a Cox 22, mark 2, motor sailor, stated as a good winter project and berthed at Walton on the Naze, and as we were going on a family visit to London we decided to go and have a look. So on a very wet and foggy morning we set off on our nothing to lose mission. We finally arrived at the boatyard to find the boat on the hard, looking a very sad sight in the cold and rain. The owner arrived and opened her up to reveal quite a lot of tender love and care was certainly needed, but there was something about her that made us decide to have a go, so we bought her and there started our winter project.
Finally we got to the stage where it was decided she would be ready for the long journey home and we could bring her up to standard once back up north so on the 18th of May we had the boat slipped and made ready for the next day's High water so we could take her out for some sea trials. We were fortunate to be invited by the Walton and Frinton Yacht Club on a cruise to Ipswich which would take us up the river Orwell some ten miles plus the Walton Backwaters around 15 miles total. All went well and we made lots of new friends one of which intended sailing up the river Stour to Wrabness the next day. We decided to join him, what a beautiful river and great sailing area! The next day saw us motoring back to the Walton Backwaters and on to our allotted moorings. We were now fairly confident that Salty Fiddler would take us home.
THE LONG WAY HOME
The route we decided on would take us up the east coast to the river Humber and then on to the rivers and canal system to bring us on to the west coast, we might even arrive for the opening of the new Ribble link making us the first boat to sail from the east coast and through the Ribble link.
Having said goodbye to all our new found friends on the eve of our departure, the following morning found us doing our last minute shopping and after topping up with diesel and entering the relevant waypoints we set off down the river picking up a buoy at Foxes which is in the Walton channel, we then stayed the night to catch the tide early next morning.
Rising at first light, we let go the mooring and started to pick our way to the Pye End buoy, which according to local hearsay is hard to find. It must have been our lucky day as we almost tripped over it. We then made our way along the recommended track to avoid the heavy stuff heading for Felixstowe and reached the Inner ridge buoy. We then turned north across the Harwich deep-water channel. We were now in Indian country and I asked Irene to keep her eye on the big boat. She looked astern and asked sarcastically 'which big boat?' looking at a small cruiser passing our stern. 'Irene, look to port', I shouted! 'Oh my goodness', she said, or words to that effect, 'it's the Stenna Line ferry on its way to Holland.' It was coming our way so I opened the throttle full out and got out of the area as soon as possible.
We then settled down to an uneventful Inshore passage till some hours on we reached Woodbridge Haven buoy where the fun started. Imagine looking towards the shore from seaward and seeing the sea breaking in front of you that's exactly the way it was. From the fairway buoy you need to head directly for shore till you reach an obscure starboard hand buoy then you turn at a 45deg angle and run parallel between the shore and the sandbar (breakers). We started to inch our way in, rather timidly I might add, only to see two large yachts passing on our starboard and going at some rate, so I jumped in behind them for the ride. By the time I got round the green buoy, the two yachts had disappeared and a very large fishing vessel was on its way out of the channel, which was very narrow, barely two boats' width, (I kid you not). I blurted to Irene " We'll have to stand off " and Irene after looking at the breakers responded "like bl---y hell you will, GO FOR IT" so I did as I was told and scraped by. Later a change of underwear was the order of the day.
Once we had completed the said chicken run we settled down and negotiated our way down the beautiful river Debden picking up a mooring buoy at Stoner Point and settled in for the night after a hot chocolate and tot of brandy (we had no cider).
After a peaceful night we awoke to another beautiful day. As I recall, we had not encountered anything above force 4. It must be fantastic to be able to sail your boat around the rivers in this lovely area. After breakfast, we set off to meander our way down the river passing the many flotillas of boats all on their swinging moorings. It reminds us of home. We motored on and finally arrived at the Tide Mill Yacht Harbour at Woodbridge, which is guarded by a sill. I radioed the harbour master to acquire a berth and I was advised to pick up a mooring to await a cruiser leaving as he was berthed in our allotted position.
We settled down to wait our turn, apparently the marina was full. We were then entertained by a large yacht making his way out of the marina and over the sill. He got stuck of course and was joined shortly by the marina's launch who took one of the lines leading from the yachts masthead and after several attempts bangs and scrapes the yacht was finally freed and reversed off the sill only to find a large motor cruiser (gin palace) had arrived directly behind her. The motor cruiser was thrown into reverse and went right onto a large direction buoy, his twin props tore into the buoy's riser and there were lots of noise and bellows of smoke and I believe thousands of pounds of damage, very distressing.
We were finally called to our place in the marina when we could clear the sill of course. We were greeted by the crew of the two yachts that passed us approaching the bar yesterday and after a lot of friendly exchanges we were invited to join them at the local watering hole to which we readily accepted after a great meal and a few drinks (no cider), we returned to Salty Fiddler to await the next days fortunes.
The next day we met the new friends from the yachts Freydiss II and Merrymac and once again they invited us to join them they were going back up the river to Stoner Point. Off we all set and it was agreed that Irene would cook a Chilli in her wonderful steamer which was transported by dinghy to Frediss II which is a much bigger boat. We enjoyed our Chilli with rice and tossed salad and swilled it down with a few drinks (no cider) and later we were ferried back to Salty Fiddler.
The next morning greeted us with a change in the weather quite misty and a fine rain but still not above force 4. All three boats set off to run the gauntlet of the bar at 5.am and once out to sea Frediss 11 went south and Merrymac joined us to go north, the destination Lowestoft. The weather started to deteriorate and by the time we reached Orford Ness the sea was very rough and was crashing over the wheelhouse the sky was almost black and lightening danced around us. Irene was not very well and slept through the whole nightmare, she later admitted she had kept one eye on the storm and smiled at the amount of times she heard me mutter the word s - - t. We finally arrived at 13.30 hours a total of eight and a half hours of sheer hell. Lowestoft marina is quite a pleasant stop and we decided to stay for a while to lick our wounds and ready ourselves for the next leg. The following morning the weather report read 5 to 7, we were not bothered which way it was blowing there was no way we were going, so armed with soap and towels we set off for the showers and then on to the shops. We met our friends from Merrymac and we all decided to have a communal meal and share the bottles of wine we both had bought (a reet gud nite).
The next day at 0500 hours and a weather report of force 4, we left the marina for Wells Next The Sea. On this leg I decided to bring into action my new secret weapon, a laptop computer loaded with the very latest version of Seapro 2000 electronic navigation system, I soon found a slight problem! Because of all the windows in the wheelhouse I could not read the computer screen, so I hurriedly moved myself and the computer forward into the sleeping quarters and proceeded to set up there. Soon the movement of the boat took its toll and no sooner had we reached open water I rushed back to the cockpit shouting for (Ralph), the weather was no better than yesterday and poor Irene was left to hold the fort. The weather deteriorated and after a while I reluctantly returned to the helm to give Irene a break. It was now blowing 5 to 6 and just to make me concentrate that little bit more there was a rather thick fog to contend with, (it's said to stop your seasickness when at the helm in these conditions). Finally around 1400 hours the Wells fairway loomed out of the mist, I looked towards where the shore should be and was greeted by a solid white curtain, I could see one of the fairway buoys so I turned the helm and started to edge in. Was this going to be another chicken run! My thoughts were soon answered for out of the mist came a set of red sails, what a beautiful sight, I lined up to pass port to port and headed onwards we were soon among breaking waves on port and starboard but we were between the buoys. Once inside the bar the fog lifted and we could se the harbour wall in the distance but on our starboard there was children playing on the beach just yards away. We finally reached the harbour wall and tied ourselves up the time 1500 hours.
We decided to stay in Wells for a few days and the following morning we set off for a walk to Stifkey a little village three and a half miles south, the weather was fantastic and we really enjoyed the walk. On our way back we made our way to the harbour master's office and paid for three nights. He informed us that he had a agreement with the holiday camp just a few minutes walk along the promenade that boaters using the harbour could also use the camp facilities, shower etc, so that afternoon we made our way to the camp and had a lovely hot showers, something worth noting for the weary traveller. That evening whilst enjoying a well prepared meal and a bottle of red wine, we were troubled to hear the weather forecast which stated a low was on its way in, so we decided we would leave the following morning and follow the small fishing fleet that departs around the crack of dawn.
Morning soon arrived to the sound of the fishing boats making ready for off so we quickly got ourselves shipshape and ready to follow the last boat to leave. The boats filed out and soon it was our turn, I let go the mooring lines and Irene followed behind the convoy, the time 4.45 a.m. We waved goodbye to our friends and decided to head for the river Humber and perhaps Grimsby. The weather was beautiful with lots of sunshine and a nice breeze so I hoisted the mizzen and unfurled the foresail, I put the engine to half throttle and when we got round the fairway buoy I headed north. We were averaging between 6 to 7 knots and we were soon crossing the Burnham flats and the entrance to the Wash .We had decided to take the inshore route to Lynn knock then turn north heading 350 degrees true which brought us to Inner Dowsing then on to Protector going this way we avoided the over falls at both Dowsing and Protector .The weather stayed with us as we made our way to the next waypoint Rosse spit. I was just thinking how wonderful a cruise we where having as we approached Spurn Head when I noticed what looked like a rather nasty squall blowing offshore towards us, it was soon upon us and it was nasty. Irene soon came to my assistance and we both decided it would be best to take the north route into the Humber. Irene appointed herself as the chief buoy spotter and we soldiered on. It was a bit hairy till we found Bull, a North Cardinal buoy off Spurn Head. Once inside the head the weather cleared and we could once again see where we were going. I could see the spires at Grimsby and that we were well before high water so it was decided to go with the tide a further twenty miles to Hull. Irene was now doing a fantastic job spotting the buoys as we criss-crossed the river; we also had to keep a watchful eye on the many ships around us. The Humber is a very busy place.
Approaching Hull Marina once again the weather changed for the worse only this time with a vengeance the rain and wind was so bad the vision was down to around two hundred yards. I called the harbour master and told him of our plight, we could not see the harbour entrance, he followed back with some directions which we tried to follow only to be informed we had passed the entrance but all was not lost, the harbour master called to say there was a large rib approaching the harbour and I should follow him in. I looked to port and could just make him out, he was going very fast so I turned the boat as quickly as possible and headed in the ribs direction with throttle wide open and devil may care we flew into the marina. The rib had gone to port and the lock starboard was clear, there was some grab bars hanging at intervals along the lock wall, I grabbed one forward and Irene grabbed at the rear and we both hung on like grim death.
Eventually the harbour master arrived and took our lines; he also gave us directions where to moor our boat. The lock gates opened and we proceeded to our berth, the wind was still blowing very hard and it was difficult to steer the boat, a couple of kind gentlemen arrived and helped us in, we secured to the mooring cleats and thanked our rescuers. The time of arrival 16.30 hours.
The next morning the weather was still doing its worse so we decided to have a rest for a few days, so we made our way to the marina office paid our dues and took advantage of the nice warm showers. Later that day we went for a walk around the Hull city shops. The city is surprisingly beautiful and we rounded off our walk by visiting the local chippy, we were awarded with the biggest battered fish you could imagine.
Tuesday the eleventh of June. We dropped both the masts and made ready for the trip down river to Goole, the first Pen (lock, to us from the West Coast), were at sixteen forty. Irene went to the marina launderette and I topped up with diesel 19.3 Litres. With Twenty-five miles to go and strong winds we entered the river just as a large ship was passing the harbour so I tailed in behind him and he afforded us some protection for a while but as he was travelling a lot faster than us we were soon on our own. We approached the great Humber Bridge and as we passed under Irene took several pictures, it was one of the highlights of our trip and we both felt good. It was a pleasant trip down the Humber once again buoy spotting and criss-crossing the river. The tide was with us and the wind behind us and we soon reached the junction with the river Trent and then on to Goole. Arriving at twenty hundred hours the harbour master informed me that we could not enter. The lock as there was traffic yet to come through he instructed us to moor behind a large red ship which took up the whole of the waiting pier. As we drew in behind her we discovered she still had her props turning and we were almost forced onto an old jetty With a lot of timbers sticking out all over the place. We quickly made our way back to the centre of the river and informed the harbour master of our plight, he told us to stand on, but there was a large freighter heading our way, at that moment the captain of the large red ship now known has Fast Jack called us alongside and as we approached three or four lines were dropped from up above, (somebody up there loves us,) we then made fast and then put the kettle on.
We watched as the flotilla of large ships left the locks to journey up the Humber to their various destinations. Eventually the harbour master called us in so after thanking Fast Jack and waving our goodbyes we made a beeline for the locks. The lock was gigantic and we had to share with a large freighter, as we came alongside her she must have had her bow thrusters engaged and we were tossed into the lock chamber wall, we were lucky there was no damage. After what seemed to be eternity we were called to exit the lock first, we let go made a sharp turn to port and we were now on the River Aire. After passing lines of various ships, barges and cruisers we arrived at a nice little BWB moorings with all amenities so we tied up for the night.
The next morning, Wednesday the twelfth of June, we left Goole at 0900 hours the weather had change for the better and it was a beautiful sunny day. We went through an unmanned lock at Wodlesford and moored for the rest of the day, the time was 17 .50.
We awoke to another fine sunny morning and at 09.40 Irene rang British Waterways to inform them of our arrival on the river and canal system. We then proceeded with our journey on through Castleford Junction and on to Leeds Arriving at Leeds we were horrified to learn that you cannot go through the locks on to the canal without a anti vandal spigot key, there was one or two narrow boats around and I tried to borrow a key but all was in vain so on the advice of an old barge skipper I tried a 8mm box spanner which did the trick.
We were now on the Leeds Liverpool Canal. From here we now had the hard task of the twenty or so miles to Skipton negotiating sixteen locks and countless swing bridges some of which need a BWB Yale lock key. The journey was quite pains taking having to unlock all four paddles on each set of locks and refasten them. We eventually arrived at Kirkstall locks, it was late in the afternoon, and when I went to open them I found they were locked with a different type of padlock. Luckily Irene had her trusty mobile phone at the ready and she phoned the Waterboard. The Waterboard officer informed us that we should not be at these locks and that the whole section is closed from 15.30 each day until 0800 hours the following morning. He also advised us to return to a small marina we had passed earlier, he went on to say we were in great danger from the gangs of youths that frequent the area. He had no sooner finished speaking to us when two unsavoury characters arrived on the scene; they started to ask us questions about the outboard engine and how long we were staying at the locks. Irene informed them that we had just finished lunch and we about to leave. We quickly cast off and returned to the afore mentioned marina. They followed us all the way back. We were warmly welcomed at the marina and tied up against a narrow boat whose owner's name is Robin, he was dressed in traditional barge clothes and he live together with his wife who worked in Leeds as a solicitor, he introduced us to the marina's owner who after showing us all the facilities charged us a special rate of three pounds per night.
The following morning we left at 0800 hours and when we arrived back at Kirkstall locks we were met by a BWB lock keeper to take us through his section, he in turn was joined by another lock keeper and they worked together through the locks, they later informed us that they had to work in pairs for fear from the vandals. After rising a further eight locks we were joined with a narrow boat on their way to Skipton so we joined up to operate the many swing bridges along the way. Approaching Silsden we caught in a bad thunderstorm and we both got wet through.
The next morning the sun was with us again as we left at 1000 hours, our friends with the narrowboat had left and we were now joined with a new BWB lockkeeper who took us up to and including the famous Bingley five rise. We now had the journey from Bingley to Skipton, thirteen and three quarter miles of lock free canal but the daunting task of twenty-four swing bridges. We negotiated the first five locks and then stopped for lunch, the time 14 00 hours.
OVER THE TOPS
Irene went below for a nap while I settled down in the cockpit. We were out in the country side and the weather was beautiful as I relaxed a mother duck brought her little family of chicks for lunch and we all shared my sandwiches At 1600 hrs a narrow boat that had just arrived through the swing bridge stopped and her crew of five elderly gentlemen asked if would like to share the ordeal of the remaining swing bridges to Skipton. I quickly agreed and we set off over the tops. We plodded along around four knots, me opening and closing one bridge and the gents the next .The canal is so beautiful on this stretch of water, every bend revealed another of natures own art gallery, I must return one day with my paints and canvas and spend some time in this area.
We arrived in Skipton at 1900 hrs. Skipton is a good place to stop over and visit the local shops, the castle and of course the many watering holes, as we had been here before we stayed the one night only and next morning after topping up with water and diesel at the boatyard we left to negotiate the three swing bridges and the six locks at Gargrave .We were now descending the canal for the rest of the trip all the way to the river Ribble. We went through a further six locks at Bank Newton and out into the countryside. Of all the canal systems in the country, and I have travelled most of them, I rate this section the most beautiful .We cruised on for a further six miles or so reaching East Marton where we moored for the night. The time was 17. 10 hrs and I reckon a good days work was done by all, we collapsed into our bunks well and truly knackered.
The next morning we motored down to the three locks at Greenberfield and on to the tunnel at Foulridge a total of around eight miles .The tunnel is 1640 yards long and is in total darkness it also drips water profusely everywhere. The tunnel is fitted with traffic lights and when we arrived at the entrance the lights were on red so we tide up and made ready for the black hole. We carry one of those spotlights, so many million-candle power, so it's said which I rigged so it would shine on the wall immediately in front of the boat. On the hour the traffic lights turned to green and off we set, no sooner had we entered the tunnel when our million or so lamp turned to nil, we were now in complete darkness. Once again Irene came to the rescue, she quickly acquired a torch rushed to the forward hatch opened it and shone the light on the tunnel wall; she remained there for the whole length of the tunnel. When we emerged from the darkness, Irene returned to wheelhouse looking like a drowned rat. I was so proud of her. We arrived at Barrowford locks around lunch time and made our presence known to Rod the lock keeper who just happens to be my cousin. We arranged to go down to the George and Dragon with Rod and Mo his wife that evening have a few drinks and a good natter.
We decided to depart early next morning and hopefully arrive home in Feniscowles for teatime. I cast off at 0700 hrs and went strait into the locks a total of seven in all and a few hours later we were on our .way to Blackburn where there is another flight of locks, six this time. We had covered sixteen miles through Burnley, Nelson, and Clayton-Le-Moors, and we arrived at Feniscowles our own moorings at 1400 hrs on the eighteenth of June.
We stayed on our moorings until the ninth of July and then left for Wigan at 13.30hrs and arrived at the top of the Wigan Flight at 20.30 hrs, we had completed the seven locks at Wheelton and travelled twenty miles.
The next morning we were up early to tackle the Wigan flight a long arduous day ahead of us a total of twenty-one deep locks. We were in the second lock when we were approached by the owner of a thirty-foot steel narrow boat and asked if we would wait for them to join us and share the locks and of course half the work. Having had previous experience of sharing locks with narrowboats I reclined at first but I was assured that they were very experienced and new what they were doing. We waited a full hour for them to join us and when they did all my fears were realised, they were totally incompetent to the point where we were almost crushed against the lock wall, Irene had to fend them off several times and was totally ignored by the guy on the tiller. After a few strong words with one of the crew members I was about to lose my temper when a BWB lockkeeper arrived he advised us to go our separate ways and we would be escorted the rest of the flight. We left our neighbours from hell and completed the locks by 1300 hrs a gruelling eight-hour slog.
We left the next morning at 0730 hrs it was a dull and raining start and we arrived at the Rufford branch, which leaves the Leeds, Liverpool main line just east of Burscough. The time was 12 20 hrs so we stopped for lunch .The rain stopped and the sun came out and later a cruiser arrived and we decided to travel the eight locks and seven and half miles to Tarleton together. It is a lovely stretch of canal and we fully enjoyed the cruise arriving at Douglas boat yard at 1800 hrs.
The next day we locked out into the river Douglas at 12 30, and was greeted by a very fierce current, we were at full revs and made steady progress until the tide eased off. We now made our way to the junction with the river Ribble. The tide was against us all the way to Preston Marina and as we approached we were joined by several boats of all shape and sizes obviously making their way ready for the grand opening of the Ribble Link. We all locked in together and were appointed to our allotted pontoons. That evening we stayed for the festival and the wonderful firework display.
The next morning we were disappointed to hear that only sixteen boats were going to be allowed through the link onto the Lancaster canal, the sixteen boats being members of the Ribble Link restoration society, (and rightly so). We were further informed that the official opening would not be until a fortnight later, so bang went our dreams of being the first boat to travel from the east coast through the Ribble Link maybe we could have waited but we had other commitments.
We stayed in Preston Marina until the 28th of July and at 14 15hrs locked out for Knott End. We motored down the Ribble till we reached the desired waypoint, which would take us through the training wall and on to the Gut buoy. At two miles out towards Gut buoy I set a course for Shell Wharfe. We were now on a beam sea and it was a little choppy all the way to the Fairway buoy No1 for the river Wyre. We arrived at Knott End at 2100hrs it was low water and we picked up one of Fleetwood Marinas waiting buoys, it brought back nostalgic memories of when we used to moor Wyrewind there on a swinging mooring.
The next morning we let go at 10 .25 and motored up to the Fairway buoy, hoisted all sails shut off the engine and sailed to Lune No1 at this time the wind had dropped to nil so we started the engine and motored down the Lune arriving at our mooring at 14 30hrs.
The end of our epic journey.