The forecast for the morrow was southwest Force 5-6 Mater'. This going to windward in a seaway, would be more than I could manage single-handed at my age, so I planned to sail with the last of the ebb out of the Colne and over to Bradwell. There at dawn I intended to leave with the last of the Blackwater ebb, reducing the windward work on my return journey and thus hopefiilly reaching the Crouch before the F5-6 'later' materialised. What I hadn't allowed for was the rate of fall of the tide, and I ambled back to the hard to find my boat already grounding. Despite my efforts the very heavy boat was stuck, and it was well after dark before the tide rose again sufficiently to free it. I was still determined to shorten the next day's windward work as much as I could, so I rowed out in the calm against the flooding tide and over to Mersea. It was less than a mile, but with the foul tide and in the pitch dark it seemed to take ages. I recalled seeing an unoccupied mooring just inside a line of three yachts, all now displaying anchor lights, so I found the buoy easily and moored up. I simply put my karrimat on the sleeping boards, and rested on that with just the sail as a cover. Despite the starlight night and expected temperature inversion I wasn't cold.
At dawn I found that I was nearly aground, so after a token breakfast I rowed out in a flat calm with the last of the Colne's ebb, so as to pick up the first of the North Sea flood. After rowing a mile or so, a yachtsman kindly offered to tow me alongside. Normally I decline, but I needed to get into the shelter of the Crouch before the rough stuff arrived so this time I gratefully accepted. Before we reached Colne Bar buoy the wind got up, and I was able to cast off. It was about Force 3 from ahead, so with the slight North Sea flood tide I was able to make fair progress tacking up the Raysand Channel. Eventually I came to the shallowest part, the last half-mile before the Crouch. This is marked by a yellow spherical buoy, but in fact I found the deepest water a half-mile inshore of it. I had not seen another vessel in the ten or so miles between the Colne and the Crouch.
Entering the Crouch, I was soon off the entrance to the Roach. The sensible thing would have been to tack up to Paglesham on the flood and terminate the cruise early, but I was tempted into exploring the upper Crouch. I pushed on past Burnham on the Wallasea side this time, until beyond Bridge Marsh Island the tide had turned against me. I could see a Thames Barge moored in the distance, but it was high time to turn back. With the ebb and the fresh breeze I was back into the Roach in record time, but now came the bill! Sailing fast, I made tack after tack against the Roach ebb without any progress at all. Rather than sensibly retreating to Wallasea Ness and waiting for slack water, I got carried away, and sat out with mainsheet cleated, playing the jib in the gusts. It was exhilarating but risky, a capsize in that current would have been very serious, but the adrenalin was flowing. Eventually I gained a few yards, then a few yards more, until I was up to what looks like a dead end in the river, and got round that bend in one tack. The next reach was a close fetch, and. from then on I was able to relax a little, making steady progress until the Paglesham launching ramp was in view. The problem now was recovering my boat while there was still enough water over the ramp. With the wind now up to at least the forecast Force 5, the trailer had to be lined up with the strong wind to float the heavy boat on to the cradle. With one wheel right on the edge of the ramp, I just managed to slide the boat on, saving myself a wait of four hours or more in the dark. The boat and trailer were then simply long-roped to my little Micra and the car did all the heavy work. With my arthritis, I usually get pain at night if I overdo it, but this night no problem at all. The adrenalin must have been on full-flow!