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by Michael Swarbrick, crew on Rice Pudding VII

Joined Rice Pudding VII at 19,00 hours on Friday night, 20th August. Norman had already launched the boat and secured it in the dock in the afternoon. Frank joined a little later. Weasel was still on the hard; there hadn't been enough water to float her off the trailer. The outlook for Weasel was bad because the tides were going down and it was Tuesday before she eventually got into the water. At Last was moored alongside Rice Pudding in the dock, Jim making final adjustments before seeking a meal at the Dalton. At Last had only the skipper on board as would have Weasel. We all bedded down at 00,00 hours on Saturday morning.

We, Rice Pudding and At Last, left the dock at 07,00 hours on Saturday morning. We were joined from the moorings by Avante, Peter and Ann (and dog), Crouton, David and Glen and Mistral with Alan and Susan (and dog). We motored round to Sunderland Point and bent on the Genoa, the forecast was for winds of force 3 or 4 so we had delayed fitting the foresail until we got into the channel. We sailed on in very light airs. It was a beautiful day and we had all the time in the world to get to Piel.

Frank and Norman, bathed in sunshine, looking forward to an exciting holiday.

After a while At Last, Crouton and Avante switched on their motors and left us, Rice Pudding and Mistral, behind. We arrived just ahead of Mistral at approximately 14,30 hours. Weasel, Dennis, and Pebbles, Jeff and Linda, were to leave on the evening tide and arrive at Piel later. Dennis was to lower Weasel into the middle of the river at low water, when, we were all confident, she would float off the trailer. Pebbles was in the marina. We had inadvertently left the dinghy motor in Norman's garage but Jim said he would look after us, which he did, very well in fact, over the next few days. While the others rested below I stripped off and sunbathed in the cockpit for an hour. It turned out to be a lovely evening. Jim, Frank and Michael went ashore while Norman prepared the evening meal. David and glen were already there. Glen joined us for a walk round the castle and the shore around the back of the castle and pub. We walked through banks of harebells, Michael's favourite flower, which he didn't notice at the time.

Peter and Ann. Enjoying a rare break from the children. They were coming to offer us a lift ashore, which we accepted.

After 'dinner' we all joined up in the pub in the time honoured manner. The sad news was that a message was waiting for us to say that Weasel hadn't been able to launch and that Weasel and Pebbles would not be departing till Tuesday.

We awoke to a lovely Sunday morning and leisurely prepared to set off towards Ravenglass, an unspoilt fishing village standing on the estuaries of the rivers Esk, Mite and Irt, if you can ignore Selafield. Avante had left early in the morning to go back to Glasson and work on Monday. Mistral also left to go back to Glasson. Rice Pudding and At Last set sail for Ravenglass, Crouton had departed for Glasson by now. We had a glorious sail, on a broad reach most of the way with a fair wind and lots of sunshine. At Last was with us for a while but gradually dropped back as the day wore on. We reached Selker buoy and turned towards the shore. It was a long time before we found the entrance. After a while we turned away from the shore and sailed towards Selafield until we had the hill Yoadcastle on a bearing of 90 degrees magnetic. Then we turned towards the shore again and the leading marks, a white triangle of stones on the beach and a white triangle above behind the trees, soon became visible. The blockhouse is the 'landmark' but unless you've been before there seems to be lots of blockhouses along the shore. We were too early to cross the bar so we anchored and waited for At Last who was not long behind. We loaned Frank to At Last to help with the mooring inside the harbour. Norman had been provided with a 'pilot' by the Secretary of Ravenglass Boating Association, Doug Ferreira, which proved to be very helpful. We set off tentatively and inched our way in shore and up the channel. All went well until we ran aground just short of the moorings but we soon lifted off, with help from the tide and by lifting the keel and rudder out of the water once we were free. We picked up the first mooring and At Last picked up one nearby but was advised to move on account of the mooring anchors having washed out as the riverbed had altered course a little.

Washed out anchor. This was taken the next day. At Last had settled on the mooring anchor, so much for the good advice. Jim is assessing the situation. It wasn't a problem.

It was twilight by now and a little late, so only Jim and Frank went ashore to suss out the situation and make phone calls. We all decide to have a rest from sailing on Monday and Frank planned a walk for us all.

Rose early on Monday morning and watched the tide start to come in through the forehatch, my window on the world from the forecabin. A family of birds, one parent and half a dozen chicks, possibly teals, floated by on the tide feeding like a group of circus clowns tumbling over themselves, a joy to watch. A stately heron was alert a little upstream and a curlew was barely distinguishable a few feet away on the bank merging so well with the sand and pebble shore. Oystercatchers were gossiping on the distant bank of the Esk. An almost cloudless sky. A wonderful peaceful world shattered by the first railcar heading north, but the birds didn't seem to notice it. The start to the holiday was like a dream. Too late to dash ashore for an early call.

Frank decided he'd take us up over the fairly low Muncaster Fell, Hooker Craig being the highest point at 758 feet, to Eskdale Green where plan 'A' was that we would catch the train to Boot and return to Ravenglass with the train. We strolled along leisurely with numerous pauses and rests to take in the spectacular views.

Hooker Craig. Lunch Break. Norman, Jim and Frank enjoying a rest at the top of Hooker Craig. The Ravenglass harbour in front of them and stunning views of the hills behind.

Frank, a member of the Millom Mountain Rescue Team, pointed out all the various hills and summits, the only blot on the landscape being the ever-present Selafield death factory. We were really enjoying our holiday. I said it would be perfect if Frank could find me a group of harebells; this was when Jim pointed out that I'd been strolling through them yesterday. We passed many during the day. We chatted to people on the way and basked in the sunshine. We lost the path to Eskdale Green and came out on the road as near to Boot as Eskdale Green so plan 'B' came into operation and we walked along the banks of the Esk to Boot. Having sustained ourselves on dry bread, bananas and chocolate bars we took liquid refreshment at the local hostelry before having tea and cakes on the station waiting for the train.

The 'River Mite'. This is the engine that pulled us back to Ravenglass. The river Mite is one of the three rivers that flows into the Ravenglass estuary/harbour.

The ride down to Ravenglass in the small open carriages of the Ravenglass and Eskdale Light Railway, L'aal Ratty, pulled by a miniature steam locomotive, was quite thrilling, seeming to be fast but the engine driver said we only got up to 20 mph! The seven-mile long 15-inch narrow gauge railway was established in 1875 to carry iron ore to the main line.

Looking out to sea. Low water at Ravenglass. Back from our walk it was low water. At Last is in the foreground, Rice Pudding is the farthest boat in the centre right.

After showers in Holly House Hotel, a delightful converted farmhouse on the foreshore, we settled for the evening - and a little longer.

Sunset. No it's not the glow from Selafield, that's further round to the right.

We had a meal, Frank's wife, Margaret, joining us to add a little sparkle to the company. The landlady, Anita, was very accommodating and welcomes visitors from the sea, having put down two moorings opposite the hotel. She supplied us with a five-day forecast (fax) and looked after us well. Here we became better acquainted with Alan from Wardley's, locally known as Greengrass. Alan, who had helped us to select moorings on the previous evening, had had a triple heart by-pass, which unfortunately had gone wrong. He had sailed up from Wardley's on Jaronda for the summer. He was with his devoted wife (she hates boats and sailing) and grandson.

We had a bit of excitement going back to the boats in the dinghy, the painter had got wrapped round the propeller shaft, but we sorted it out after a few anxious moments, the tide was ebbing swiftly, visions of a cold night at sea.

Tuesday morning had a red sky. The heron was around and the red flag was flying again on the range. Despite the 'warning' of the red sky the forecast was promising, easterly force 3 or 4 diminishing to force 2 to 0 the next day so we decided to leave for Whitehaven.

Jim had enjoyed his day in Ravenglass so, because the winds were a bit strong for him on his own and his smallish boat, Leisure 17, he decided he would wait for our return to Ravenglass. His decision was to prove to have been a sound one. We changed the foresail to the No.2 Genoa and motored out of the harbour. It seemed a little fresh so we put two reefs in the mainsail, not to be shaken out again until we tidied up the boat on Friday morning. We had an exhilarating sail to St Bee's Head and a somewhat lumpy ride round the head and towards the harbour, by now it had clouded over a little and the wind had strengthened. We were impressed by our reception at Whitehaven and the new engineering works. A visit to the refurbished harbour is a must for everyone! They opened the outer gates for us and locked us through in minutes without any fuss. We were allocated a berth and they didn't seem to mind when our captain moored in the adjacent one.

Inside the dock at Whitehaven. This is looking towards the new lock/dock gates from the dock side. The control tower is obvious. Inside the lock there are floating pontoons on either side which you tie up to whilst the water is raised or lowered. The black mass in the background is the outer gates.

The engineering aspect of the pontoons is splendid. The toilets and showers are as yet only portacabins but they were very clean and more than acceptable. We had a warm reception in the Harbourmaster's office and were given all the help we needed. £8,08 for the night, 25-foot boat.

The New Marina at Whitehaven. Rice Pudding is hiding behind the catamaran in the centre of the picture. The blue on the dock side is the showers and loos. The dock gate is to the left. The Harbourmaster's office is just out of the picture on the right, across the road.

We were given a rundown on the local activities for the night and set off round the town exploring. After making the odd purchase and just missing a walk round the new museum on the south wall of the harbour, it should have been a coast guard post but it got 'closed' before it was finished, we returned to the boat for our evening meal, looking forward to the quiz night in the John Paul Jones, a pub at the back of the dock. Norman started the conversation off by asking which three people, past or present, we would like to invite for dinner, if we had the opportunity. Names like Nelson Mandella, Shackleton, Hitler, Germaine Greer, Susie Orbach and Mao Se Tung came up. The pub was a bit noisy when we arrived but the 'music' was turned off when the quiz began. We sat down at a table, in an alcove, next to two people whom we recognised as being from the boat which locked in before us. They were Tony and Brenda, a happy young couple with three grown up children, on Tir Man Og out of Maryport. They lived in Leeds and had been at Maryport for a few years. Sadly the marina has gone down hill badly and they were hoping for a revival or would probably move to Whitehaven. We were disappointed to learn that Brenda didn't like sailing much and only did it for her husband's sake. We persuaded them to join our quiz team and distinguished ourselves by coming last! We were doing well until the music round at the end, we hadn't a clue, fortunately Tony and Brenda recognised some of the tunes but we still came last, and there was no booby prize. The Irish Sea forecast for tomorrow was a bit grim!

Wednesday morning 07,00 hours, raining. We slipped into the lock and raised the keel, lifted the rudder out, relying on the motor to steer the boat. Out through the gates, wind on the nose, we motored round St Bee's Head and put the sails up, still too fine a course to sail so we kept the motor on and motor sailed into the wind, slamming the bottom and dipping the bow. The odd flash of sunlight. How would we get into Ravenglass in these seas? It calmed down round the entrance to Ravenglass but it had been a bit strenuous up till then. Michael had been persuaded to take Stugeron seasick pills and they wiped him out so he spent the best part of the voyage below decks doing the odd navigation/pilotage check, and keeping things tidy as we were thrown about all over the place. As we arived at the entrance once again we crept up slowly, but with more comfidence this time. The birds were being pushed up the shore, their feeding grounds being swallowed by the hungry sea. We spotted a white cormorant, a young one? They were all grouped together gossiping apparently enjoying the break from feeding. It was a relief to pick up the mooring buoy and have a rest like the birds. By now it had turned into quite a pleasant day with a little sunshine now and then. I saw our first 'container train' a number of squarish blocks on flat trucks pulled by four, yes four diesel engines, a reminder of the problems of pollution and radioactivity which have frightened many people away from this delightful spot.

Rice Pudding VII. The tide has gone out and left RP7 staggering on her 'sealegs'. We didn't manage to get her to settle in the shallow water but she didn't come to any harm.

After a well-earned rest, by the other two, I set off with Frank to walk round the harbour and along the banks of the Esk. Frank got talking to Greengrass, who was sitting on his dinghy outside his boat.

Alan & Jaronda. Alan talking to Frank who is hiding on the left. The boat is immaculate inside. It is low water. Alan, when he is partaking of refreshment in Holly House, knows that he has 20 minutes to get across the sands to his boat when the little blue boat in front of him starts to jig about a little. The tide has turned.

I walked along the Esk for a little way. I saw the family of teals again but this time there was only one chick left, which saddened me quite a bit. The world is very cruel. The heron was still about but it was chased away by a seagull. Then I returned through the village.

Nostalgia. Well for us old ones anyway. An old petrol pump preserved from many years ago. Petrol at 1/5 per gallon!.

I walked across the Mite viaduct and along the shore of the Irt for a little way watching the birds an the world go by. The whistles from the L'aal Ratty punctuating the early evening sounds.

More Nostalgia. Well for old Leyland Engineers. A 142 Railcar leaving Ravenglass towards Seascale. I was associated with these railcars designed in Leyland but built at Workington.

It is a lovely peaceful setting, apart from the trains, Selafield and Greengrass in his cups, but nothing's perfect.

We had showers and met up with Jim. He had been to Millom on the train and had walked to Haverick. He had enjoyed his little jaunt. Norman cooked a meal, which we all enjoyed. Norman talking on the RT - "What sort of night did you have Dennis?" " ... it was like living in a washing machine!". Weasel and Pebbles had had a rough night in Piel; in fact they moved to Roa Island it was so bad. Because of the forecast they had decided to stay put and not venture up to Ravenglass as planned, again a wise decision as it turned out in the limited time available, Dennis had to be back to pick up Jo on her way home from Ireland. We missed the forecasts and decided to wait till morning. It was at this point that two shirt-sleeved policemen stood on the shore and hailed the boat, we were in a few inches of water and the tide was starting to turn. Would Norman ring home as soon as possible, family illness. Frank knew both of them from his past life but they didn't recognise him out of uniform, Frank has just retired from the police force at Broughton. He wound them up a little. Norman tried with their mobile phone but there was no reply. It turned out later at the pub (Holly House Hotel) that the message was to say that John Cottam's funeral was on Friday, sadly he'd died on Monday after a long illness. What to do next. If the weather was too bad, Norman would go home with some friends, who were staying in their cottage nearby, or by the train, and Frank and I would take the boat home to Glasson when the weather eased. Jim ferried us all across to the hotel and we partook of liquid refreshment and talked boats with the landlady for a while. Her former partner had five boats but he'd only been across the bar once. Coming from Whitehaven she loved the sea and boats. Needless to say we were last out of the pub but none the worse for wear, despite the fact that Norman fell into the dinghy as he attempted to board it on the shore. Michael and Jim got boots full of water. All safely tucked up soon after.

Thursday morning. Forecast SW 3 or 4, for the next two days. It sounded much stronger and we could hear the waves roaring on the beach over the sandhills. All a bit foreboding but there wasn't a red sky. Frank nearly missed the boat having gone ashore to do some shopping and the usual. The tide was making as he got back to the boat and he had to strip off and wade out to us. After breakfast we decided to go even though it looked like we might have to struggle. Jim, wisely, said he'd wait another day. Weasel and Pebbles were going to sail up to Barrow and return to await our arrival in Piel. Our plan was to sail direct to Glasson but if we were early at Halfway Shoal we would slip into Piel Harbour and have a meal while we waited for the right time to depart for Glasson. We could see the breakers on either side of the entrance to Ravenglass. We were a little concerned about getting out over the bar but we decided to try. No problem. As we got to the entrance I sail it feels OK. I could see in their faces that Frank and Norman thought I was talking through my stern. We had a couple of conversations with the range at Eskmeals, they were firing today. We left Ravenglass to the sound of booming guns, just like going down the Yangtze, but fortunately we didn't get hit. We motored into the wind out to Selker buoy and put the sails up and set off on 155 degrees magnetic. Another reach, this time a bit finer, but we sped along on starboard tack with little bursts of sunshine, doing half hour shifts on the helm. Gradually we made Halfway Shoal and we had a couple of hours for a meal and a rest before continuing to Glasson. It meant crossing Morecambe Bay in the darkness but we were unperturbed, anxiety to rear up later. We sailed off the mooring in fine style, very impressive I thought, the way we upped the sails and left the buoy. The spectators on Weasel and Pebbles thought we had the motor on we did it so well! We had to put the motor on once we had crossed the bar because our tacks were making little headway down the channel. We turned south at Outer Bar and skimmed across in 4 metres, and less at times, for over an hour in one metre waves (we are 1,5 metres draft). Again we were going to be early so we reduced sail in an attempt to slow down.

At this point the moon came out from behind the clouds and shone across the water. It was a magic moment, the first time for Frank, he hadn't been sailing at night before. Also we noticed something like the northern lights when we looked south. Beams of light reflecting on and penetrating the clouds. It must have been lasers from Blackpool. They seemed to be coming from behind the tower. It's not easy picking out the navigation lights against the shore lights but it is an experience not to be missed, sailing at night that is.

As usual a big boat got in the way and we ended up in the Hesham channel carried upstream of Lune River buoy. We headed for No. 2 Lune buoy and got into the channel, a bit earlier than we wanted. We followed the buoys and the channel just disappeared, we were in less than two metres. We crept along on the motor and eventually got into deep water again. We passed a cargo boat as we turned round No. 9 and motored into the dock at about 23,30 hours, we'd been on the go for twelve hours. Norman shot off home and we went to sleep.

Friday morning we tided up the boat and left it in the dock to await collection by our wives at 13,00 hours. Weasel and Pebbles were planning to go to Fleetwood but decided to return to Glasson, Pebbles arriving two hours early, Weasel just as the dock gate opened. No word from At Last and he hasn't appeared on the boat park either.

The author, Michael. at Glasson Dock with Rice Pudding in the background, Friday 27th August 1999.

We all had an exhilarating holiday thanks to our leader Norman, the Rear-Commodore Cruising.

We believe Rice Pudding is the leading recorded competitor for the Furthest North Trophy. Anyone gone further?

Another Ravenglass sunset. A beautiful little harbour with people to match.

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