Coastal Chronicles, England

‘Twas the summer of ’76 when Steve and I bought the cutter “Syrinx.” She was covered with years of dust in a shed in Cardnell’s yard in Maylandsea on the east coast of England along Lawling Creek. The creek had some nice water at high tide. At low tide it appeared to be about six inches deep and ten feet wide. A mile down the creek was the River Blackwater, and about ten miles further downriver surged the Thames Estuary, the gateway to the English Channel and the North Sea.

The English countryside charmed us with its ordered neatness. The absence of billboards, neon signs and litter was refreshing. Fields were laid out with beautiful hedges and/or stone walls. The land glistened in the brilliant green of August. Names were straight from the Hobbit Trilogy—“Hoarwithy,” “Otterbourne,” “Biggleswade,” etc.

Dan and Nancy were in the same yard working away on “Janetta.” Steve and I had already cruised the South Pacific, and Dan and Nancy had cruised a bit of the North Sea and lots of English chandleries, so it wasn’t long before Steve and Dan had their heads together sharing information and arguing the finer points of caulking and fasteners.

We four lived aboard our boats hauled out in the yard, and sighed over the long tea breaks by the yard workers and the somewhat rainy weather. Dan and Nancy and another American couple worked in tandem with us, and all were very helpful and supportive. Their warm friendship made a world difference in our daily lives.

The yard was run by Mr. Cardnell, who was about sixty years old, and his sister-in law Daisy. They had fond memories of sailing “Syrinx” in the fifties, and had maintained the boat in their yard for the twenty years since. Occasionally a pair of us would dash off in one of Dan’s two Austin Minis to London or elsewhere for bolts, anchors, steering vanes, sails, etc. Often we would stay in London near Hyde Park at my brother’s luxury flat, plush with antiques and beautiful oriental rugs.

In mid-Sept. I wrote to my dad, “Praise the Lord, the barometer seems to be up slightly, and though it is rather grim and chilly outside, perhaps it will not rain today.” We refinished and re-rigged the mast, copper-sheathed the deadwood, replaced through-hulls, refastened the plank ends, did some engine work, some topside work, some bottom side work, etc.

Finally by the end of Sept. the two boats were floated in Lawling Creek. “Janetta” was launched first and looked the lovely lady that she is. “Syrinx” looked pretty disreputable. She was down by the stern due to her new heavier engine. The teak decks and varnish-work were grimy with years of coal dust. But as we motored down the creek away from Maylandsea under rare blue skies with towering white clouds, we rejoiced to be afloat again at last.

We joined Dan and Nancy down the river in the harbor at Heybridge Basin, and tied up alongside them. Heybridge Basin featured two pubs and a boat yard, and we were surrounded by some beautiful old Thames River spritsail barges. The harbor was just inside the beginning of a canal with lock gates at either end to protect the boats from the fifteen to twenty-foot tides. Weeks passed as we worked away on boat projects. Our new sails arrived, and we went for test sails. We would bike or drive a couple of miles into Malden for groceries, etc.

Dan determined his favorite bakery and his favorite bread, and would get a loaf every morning. He also had his favorite English teas. We all developed a passion for Quality Street English Toffees. Dan and Nancy routinely shared meals and adventures with us. They were very generous with their friendship and enthusiasm.

Towards the end of Nov., after a month struggling with defunct electrical systems, we followed Dan and Nancy down to Tollesbury Marina, where the clubhouse had hot showers, laundry room and bar. Such luxury! There the North wind blew in gale force for two weeks, with a quarter inch of ice on the decks and floats. We stayed cozy and snug in the boats with our oil-fired heaters and, of course in the clubhouse and bar!

In early December Steve and I decided to make the sail down the English Channel to the South Coast. We were quite ready to be headed for the tropics. Dan and Nancy volunteered to crew, despite the fact that Nancy was by then four months pregnant with Jessica. (Was she conceived in the boatyard?)

The Thames Estuary is a region known for its vicious chop and treacherous lurking sandbars. The tide runs up and down twenty feet. One consults the tide book like a Bible before even considering a voyage. At that time of year the sun rose at 8:00 and set at 3:30, which didn’t really give us much daylight to work with.

We motored up to Harwich in the afternoon on the tide, and moored overnight. We left before dawn, spent an hour aground, and then slid thru the Straits of Dover just after dark. Steve and I had come down with colds before leaving, Nancy’s pregnancy made her seasick, and we all had to put up with the leaky teak decks.

Steve and I had made this passage from London to the South Coast the previous August, when we had hot sunshine and bright stars. Now it was bitter cold, but the steering vane took care of the tiller, so all we had to do was to keep one eye on the compass and our other eye out for ships. That first night out “Syrinx” pounded to weather in a rising wind under frosty stars. Dan and Steve put two reefs in the main and a reef in the jib. Below the little heater glowed, and mittens and socks hung about it.

During my watch that night there were about a dozen ships that were also catching the tide down the Channel, and we sailed at a very oblique angle right across the shipping lane. Those giant ships overtook and passed us on either side. Plus, to add a little extra handicap, there were a coupled of big hovercraft ferries shuttling across at ninety degrees to the flow. Once we had rounded Dover, we sailed from point to point down and along the English coast, staying inshore of the shipping lanes.

This was what I wore on watch: tee shirt, shirt, sweater, ski jacket, foul weather top, long undies, jeans, foul weather bottoms, two pairs of socks, rubber boots, ski hat with hood over, dish towel over my lower face and neck (pinned behind), and wool mittens with water-proof mittens over.

The next day we sailed past the Isle of Wight, ran out of wind, and motored through the next night in a flat calm. What a contrast! After a lazy sunny afternoon’s sail off the gorgeous Devon-Cornish coast we arrived in Plymouth. As we motored into the marina, we ran out of fuel. Later we discovered that the fuel tanks, which were supposed to hold 20 gallons each, actually held 12. It was still calm, so we put the dinghy in, and Dan cheerfully rowed us into the commercial docks.

Plymouth was a beautiful place with lots of hills, and reminded me of a very small San Francisco. For four days Steve and Dan worked on the engine and repaired leaks in the foredeck We especially enjoyed the Plymouth public baths. We bought more gear, including a Seagull outboard. Then we motored in a light drizzle and calm down to Falmouth. There Dan and Nancy left us to return to “Janetta” in Essex.

After four months of being close neighbors, we were very sorry to see such fine friends go. It would be a couple of years before we would see them again in the Virgin Islands, but they already held and continue to hold a place in our hearts that defies years, distance, and now Dan’s passing.

With love, from June and Steve