As the winter draws near and the days get shorter we are looking forward to weekends sanding, painting, varnishing, sawing, gluing, chiselling, sanding, varnishing….. so Jonathan and I decided it was a good idea to have one last trip on Marcita. The Deben didn’t seem far enough so we chose the Alde. We were rewarded with the most fabulous weekend. We had sailing that mixed relaxing and exhilarating, destinations which were interesting and pictureque all topped off by faubulous grub.
From it’s entrance, the Alde winds its way 8 miles North separated from the sea by only a couple of hundred yards of shingle. The feeling of relief as you enter the safety of a river or of apprehension as you are about to leave is heightened by the proximity of the sea. This effect is further emphasised by the excitement provided by the rather inaptly named Orford Haven Bar, but more of that later. ( www.orfordentrance.com ).
Saturday night saw us picking up a mooring just off Aldeburgh Yacht Club. It was 1900 and with no moon and an overcast sky we had fumbled our way forward in the pitch dark. Once we had decided we had enough water at low tide and everyhting was secured we went ashore in search of the best fish and chips on the East Coast.The queue was shorter than usual and we ate them while leaning against the sea wall watching the anglers sitting on he shore in the dark. It it true that every man looks at anothers hobby and can never fathom what they see in it. Sitting on a beach oin the dark staring out to sea for hours is a pleasure I cannot understand. Perhaps you have to know their wives.
We had left Pin Mill at 0900 with a reaching wind on the last of the ebb. Out of Harwich harbour we turned north and slowly tacked out way to windward against the tide. I’m not the most patient sailor, so I was tempted to try the Deben as we passed the entrance at 1330. Lunch and a pint at the Ramsholt Arms was an attractive alternative to creeping North, but unusualy it was me who decided we should press on. Partly it was the desire to discover a new river; partly it as the lure of the chips. We finally arrived at an altogether less welcoming bar at 1600. That turned out to be perfect timing, as we were HW –0130. We would have plenty of water and still a bit of flood if we should stray into shallows. The entry was mostly without drama except from grazing the bottom while going over a cheeky little lump that lies in wait well inside the entrance.
Next morning we rose early filled our stomachs with a full fry up and went ashore to visit the Yacht Clubs. Both were very friendly and welcoming and we can report that Aldeburgh Yacht Club has excellent showers etc. At Sloughden Yacht Club we canvassed members for the best time to exit over the Bar. The consensus was not before 1600 (HW –3). With a two hour journey time to the bar we had a few hours to kill. Lunch at The Butley and Orford Oysterage beconned. We cast off our mooring, unfurled the genoa and slipped gently downstream with 10-15 knots over our port quarter. In the 45 minute journey to Orford our only signs of life were a few disinterested seals and a couple of groups of hikers on the shore path. At Orford we picked up another mooring just of the quay and crabbed across the stram in our dinghy to get ashore.
Although the Oysterage (http://www.butleyorfordoysterage.co.uk/) is reason enough to visit Orford there’s a lot more besides. The town grew up around a 12th Century Royal castle, of which the surviving 90 ft high Keep still dominates the surroundings of Orford. The Keep is a fifteen minute walk from the quay through one of the most beautiful villages in Suffolk (http://www.orford.org.uk/). I’d highly recommend a visit even if just to climb to the top to see the river wind its way through the marshes to the Bar.
The Oysterage is one of the few restaurants that still relies on the quality of its food to attract visitors. All it's produce is farmed or caught locally. It’s so good that I would recommend you book ahead to make sure you are not disappointed. After a plate of succulent oysters, delicious skate and a fine, fresh Burgundy to steady our nerves we set off home along a deserted river. Only the bar stood in the way of a gentle reach back to Pin Mill.
Maurice Griffiths likened the journey over the bar to being in a washing machine and the pilot says;
There is a shingle bar at the entrance over which the depth may be down to chart datum. It frequently shifts, often a lot, particularly after Ely gales. Streams run fast, the ebb attaining 5kn or over at springs. Wind against tide at the entrance causes a heavy sea near and on the bar. Entry or exit best local –0400 to +0030. During ebb it is not advisable; if one grounds the strong flow may heel and fill the boat. Never attempt in strong onshore winds.
Hmm, right, admittedly it is the job of pilots to make sure that sailors are fully aware of the risks involved in navigating tricky waters. Take Cunliffe in the South Coast Pilot on the subject of Portland Bill: ‘even relatively large vessels have disappeared without trace’. I wouldn't say they exaggerate but it's important not to be intimidated by them.
, so it wasn’t that hard, but I think we pushed our luck a little as we left with an Easterly which decided to gust up to 25 knots as we went over the bar. We were 3 and a half hours before HW so we battled against a strong flood. Two moments stuck in my mind. Following local advice to stick close to the shore, we waved and chattede with some dog walkers on the beach as we sailed along 20 yards away from them, large waves goin under us and breaking on the lee shore beach. A few minutes after we had rounded the starboard marker and turned out to sea, depth gauge plunged to 1.7m as we rolled through the breakers towards the outer channel marker. My heart was in my mouth for the next few minutes lest the next trough might bounce us off the bottom.
We survived and once clear we barrelled back to the Orwell in two hours with wind and rollers coming from the port quarter. The test behind us, our mood lightened and we reflected on how wonderful sailing can be. We entered Felixstowe harbour in the pitch dark at 6.30. The large containerships and feverish activity is a comforting sign sight after the blackness of the North Sea. By 2100 we were on the A12 heading for home, but feeling refreshed and envigourated by our weekend away. | 