Wooden ships, iron people

Tuesday June 24th.

This is Murray taking a spin at the blog helm.   It has been a great trip so far, for more of the highs read on below, but I want to start with the last 24 hours.  We were coming off a 30 hour day.  That morning we had left our beautiful tranquil anchorage way up the Helford River at a place called Tremayne Quay.  We had spent 2 nights there due to weather and it was shocking how tiny the river got on each of the low tides.  Fortunately we were anchored in a small pool in the remaining channel.  When we went to get the anchor up on Friday morning the chain pulled up a huge waterlogged branch.  The branch and the chain were intertwined and it looked like a bad situation.  Fortunately we were able to get in the dingy and cut through the branch with a hacksaw and that allowed the chain to shake free.  Phew!

Only slightly delayed we headed out around the Lizard and Land’s End.  Yet more spectacular coastline - the whole thing has been so far: cliffs, dramatic headlands, wave dashed rocks.  All very wild, in some ways similar to Unalaska (seriously), but Unalaska if it were scattered with occasional villages, castles, and green fields full of sheep and cattle!  Jen has turned in to our navigator - I love navigation, but hate planning.  She likes (and needs) to plan.  Which in fortunate, because these British Isles are completely surrounded by powerful currents due to the huge tides.  In New England, where I grew up sailing, the tides were mostly less than 10 feet.  Here they are much bigger.  Almost Bay of Fundy-sized in places.  Alaska has big tides, but most of the places we sailed there were very deep, so the currents were usually slower than they are here.  It is critical to understand the tides and the currents and look ahead, which fortunately is one of the many things that Jen is great at.    

Jen timed our trips around the Lizard and Land’s End perfectly and we rounded them both easily and then started the longest “open sea” passage of the trip: 110 miles across the Celtic Sea/ Bristol Channel to Milford Haven.  We began with motoring, but around 1 a.m. we were able to get the sails up.  Which is when the dolphins showed up!  I had just gotten Natalie up to experience sailing at night under the stars.  Suddenly we were surrounded by about 10-20 dolphins.  They stayed with us for 20 minutes.  I don’t recall ever having them stick around that long in Alaska.  We got Sam up and both kids went up to the bow to watch them play all around our the boat.  The sailing got better through the night and the next morning the dolphins were back for another 20 minutes play session.  We particularly enjoyed - or should I say they particularly enjoyed? - swimming behind us tickling (scratching themselves?) on the bottom of our dingy (the Portland Pudgy, who we have given the name Iliuliuk which is one of the bays in Dutch Harbor and means Harmony).  The kids sat on the seat on the afterdeck (which the Brits call the push pit, a term I had never heard back home) and watched them play.  We arrived in Milford Haven in the early afternoon.   The Haven is an incredible deep water harbor, open in all weather and all tides - which is a rarity on this coast.  It has been a strategic spot for centuries.  The Vikings were here.  Oliver Cromwell’s fleet left from here to subdue Ireland during the 17th century Civil War.  The Royal Navy had a dockyard here through the First World War.  It is a stunningly beautiful place.  It is also a major petrochemical port in the UK with LNG and petroleum terminals and the largest refinery in the UK.  If you do a panorama head swivel it is a remarkable contrast.  Beautiful bays, cliffs and headlands interrupted by massive smokestacks, docks, tankers and shore tanks.   We anchored in a lovely bay that was 300 degrees postcard gorgeous and 60 degrees Newark, NJ.  Jen and the kids rowed to shore.  Jen went on a hike and Sam and Natalie played on a beach and played beach soccer with some kids.

The next morning we got up early and started our push around St. David’s Head and Cardigan Bay.  It was going to be another long passage ~ 80 miles.  It started gloriously.  Lots of wind and current in our favor.  We had the sails up and were doing 9-10 knots as we rounded St. David’s Head……and then the tide turned.  The wind was from the East, and flukey, so we didn’t have the dreaded wind over tide situation which can set up nasty waves (we saw plenty of that in the fjords of SE Alaska).  But against the current and hard on the wind - which was flukey as I said - we were going nowhere.  We spent about 4 hours going about 9 miles.  Our ETA up at Porth Dinllaen on the Lleyn Peninsula kept getting pushed back further and further.  

And did I mention it was raining all day?  

And that both kids were seasick?  

Morale was low.  

And then the wind clocked ahead and the current got a little stronger and we threw in the towel and turned around and sailed down to Fishguard, to which we arrived at 3 in the morning in the fog.  (Luckily the huge fast ferries that run to Ireland were done for the night.)  We were so relieved to be there.  And then when we went to put the anchor down it wouldn’t budge.  The windless only wanted to go up, it had no interest in releasing the chain and the anchor.  So we scrambled and put out the 2nd anchor and went down to get some much needed sleep.

I am so proud of my crew.  I say my crew because I am the one who cooked up this whole adventure and Shanghaied them into signing on.

Sam has been a trooper.  He hasn’t lost his passion for playing on his iPad or voraciously reading books, but he is contributing more and more in the running of the boat.  He is our helmsman when we need the 3 of us to get the mainsail down.  He (reluctantly) is becoming the next great Buttner male dishwasher.  Most importantly, his perky energy and humor seem to kick in when the rest of us are flagging.

Natalie has been a super trooper.  Positive, brave, up for anything.  She is our designated mast climber and part of our foredeck duo (me and her).  She has been playing guitar, painting, writing, and learning about how everything works.  Yesterday she got really low during the long slog to Fishguard (if we had set out to go there from Milford Haven directly we would have gotten in 8 hours sooner [sad face emoji here].  And so she taught herself how to tie a monkey’s fist knot and practiced guitar.  And when we finally threw in the towel and turned the boat south she rallied and helped us anchor the boat at 3 am.  

And Jen.  What can I say.  She is incredible - anyone reading this blog already knows that.  But except for the crew of the the Amber J out in Bristol Bay (you know who you are) you haven’t seen Jen at her strongest until you have seen her on a boat.  She has such reserves of strength and willpower.  Like yesterday when she spent 40 minutes fighting the diesel heater that wouldn’t stay lit.  She won - thank goodness because we needed to warm up and dry out the cabin.  I have already mentioned her planning skills in regards to her methodical approach to the charts and tide tables.  But her organizational skills go much deeper than that.  As some famous military figure once said, amateurs study tactics, professionals study logistics.  Logistics: 1) the detailed coordination of a complex operation involving many people, facilities, or supplies. 2) the organization of moving, housing, and supplying troops and equipment.  That's Jen!  She is our logistician supreme.   

So yesterday was hard.  Our first “bad day”.  The previous 30 hour passage had been long, but the sailing was as good as it gets and dolphins!!  And there is nothing more ethereal than sailing at night under a clear sky.  But yesterday was type 2 fun, maybe type 3 (we have a divergence of views on how fun is typed).  It could have been so so much worse.  The wind and seas were uncomfortable, but totally non-threatening.  Kids were seasick, but no one was throwing up or incapacitated.   When I had cooked up this whole scheme I knew that there were going to be some tough days and that they were going to be one of the best reasons for doing what we are doing.  Our modern world doesn’t often offer the challenges that our ancestors experienced regularly.  Sadly we are hermetically separated from this amazing world by our screens, windows and windshields.  We get upset by traffic congestion, slow internet speeds and poor cell reception.   I have thought a lot about what it must have been like sailing to America in the 1600s.  Even my grandparents who travelled by steamer pre-commercial jet travel lived in a very different world.  We are reading a really fun book called "Topsails and Battle-axes" by Tom Cunliffe.  It is about the Vikings who sailed to the Iceland, Greenland and North America centuries before Columbus.  

There is a saying about the past: the boats were made of wood and the people were made of iron!  Hopefully this trip will give us all more appreciation of our past and our present and so many other things.

The River Fal

6/14-21 We pulled into the surprisingly bustling harbor of Falmouth mid morning on Thursday, June 13. We managed to snag a mooring buoy - only catching it by the aid of a fisherman who saw our plight and rowed over from his boat to help us transfer our rope through the fixed loop on the top of the buoy - I like being moored, and catching them is not usually a problem, but some of them are very hard to get a line attached to! We found out it was a Classic Boat Regatta and a Sea Chanty Festival that weekend - hence the full and busy harbor! 

 Although Falmouth is a significant port, lots of commercial traffic and a long maritime history so it would have been the busiest harbor we’d called at yet no matter what festivals were going on.

The tides were impressive, and the stone wharfs even more so...

Feeding the birds...

 Our mooring was a significant distance to row from the marina or any docks where we could leave a dingy so we generally called a water taxi to get to and from shore. 

Murray rowing us home through the boats

A huge jelly, hanging out near the wharf

We did lots of wandering through the town, sightseeing, shopping, eating,

 looking at the beautiful classic boats - both at dock and out sailing - and enjoying the singing. 

Not all of us appreciated the singing equally

However, the best part of our time in Falmouth was connecting with people - Murray had corresponded with a professional sailor and writer. He surveyed the Young Larry during our purchase process and has been a wealth of information and help. The morning after we arrived, he texted that he could see the Young Larry from the window of his house! He lives in Falmouth and recognized her at her mooring in the harbor. It was great to meet him in person: Murray picked his brain about a rigging issue, and he had invaluable advice about route planning.

Sunday as the hoopla from the festival died down we sailed/motored up the Truro River as far as we could go - and the wind followed us up! It was impressive to be away from the sea, up a river and have the wind whirling us about. It was Father's Day so Murray spent it on an adventure with his kids - hiked around, found the Old Kea Church and caught one of their twice monthly services.  

After 1 night there we came back down to have work done on the rigging at Mylor Harbor, just around the corner from Falmouth. And another amazing connection: the man who owned the original Larry and built the Young Larry (in Malta) was in the area as well, having work done on his newest boat (still an old boat). He came over and we spent a fabulous hour or 2 talking to him. How amazing to meet him! And he confirmed that the Larry was in Falmouth Harbor as well on a mooring - we found her the next day. 

There wasn’t anything except the marina and 2 little restaurants at Mylor, so the next few days while the rigging was being worked on we came and went. We got a bus pass and took the bus to see Truro and the cathedral there, Natty and I went into Falmouth and got her a wetsuit (which we’d been talking about for months) and loaded up on more groceries. We had hilarious bus connections but made it home in 1 piece to leave Mylor Wednesday evening for a picture-perfect sail down to Helford River  again - up through the kajillion boats on moorings and into a little hole further up the river that Murray spotted on the chart. 

The kids slept out on the deck and we planned to spend some time exploring the next day. Which started out well - Natalie got to use her wetsuit and jump into the river from the bowsprit, rigging, etc. But the wind really kicked up and we spent the rest of the day holed up in the boat watching the shore circle by. I got some much needed trip planning done - timings set, way points plotted and a sense of how we need to make the big push around Land’s End to Milford Haven. In the evening the wind died down and Murray took each kid out sailing in our PP. They all needed some fresh air and energy released by then! (we did take pictures, but I can't get them to load just now)

We start tomorrow and plan to round Lizard Point at 11:30 and be rounding Land’s End between 1430-1530 to keep the current on our side. Then an overnight push to get up to Wales by the next day. We anticipate it’ll take 18-24 hrs to make the passage. And we will keep pushing to get closer to Glasgow for our first visitor pick-up on June 27th. These last 3 weeks have flown by!

Salcombe to Falmouth

View back to Salcombe

6/10-6/12 - Our 2 nights in Salcombe were very fun - we were moored in the river, with many other boats riding out the windy weather for a day, and took a water taxi into town. My 2 favorite things about Salcombe: the fancy and friendly yacht club and our amazing hike. We went on a fantastic walk around the headlands we’d come in past. Very craggy and intimidatingly steep. The South Coast Trail would be fun to do if you were on land, and we’ve joined it for little walks at different ports. This was our favorite part yet. Salcombe is built on steep hills that drop precipitously to hidden beaches between rocky crags. We walked up and down through town to Overbecks, a National Trust Garden and from there up to the top of the cliffs.

From the top, we walked along the top until the next valley, and descended into it where it’s possible to take a lower trail back to the town. Natalie and I weren’t satisfied and so continued on walking, cutting across sheep fields to meet up with the South Coast Trail again, and then we following it back along the bluffs to the Y. Murray and Sam headed directly back from the Y to one of the beaches we’d passed in order to catch a little ferry back to town. The tides here are Alaskan large so at that point of the tide, the ferry couldn’t get in close to the beach and their solution is to bring passengers out to the ferry on a specially outfitted tractor!

Anyhow, both parties got to enjoy the impressive walk along the precipitous cliffs. The trail zigs and zags through the sharp rocks cascading down to the jade green water below - beautiful and fun to negotiate.  

Pretty little Salcombe

The next morning, Wednesday, June 12 we set sail for Falmouth/Helford River area. On our way we passed the isolated Eddystone Rocks Lighthouse - a solitary sentinel rising from the sea like magic. The lighthouse we passed was the 4th lighthouse on the rocks and was built in 1882. 

We ultimately deciding on Helford River for our first stop and arrived just as the sun was setting. Helford River is a popular yachting area and lots of boats were moored among the tiny clusters of stone houses, green fields, and rocky headlands. We rested overnight then motored for Falmouth on Thursday where we were expecting a navigation chip for our charting system and Murray wanted to get some other things worked on. 

Attitude

Wed, June 12

I realize that this is an amazing opportunity, adventure, holiday, etc. that we’re lucky to be on. But it’s not all strawberries and Cornish clotted cream - adventures do include some misery and this is no exception.What we anticipated would be one of the best/most challenging aspects to this trip has proven to be true: constant, intimate, proximity to each other. All day, everyday, in a space less than 44 feet long. It’s brutiful. 

View forwards from the galley

I believe that these types of situations tax introverts’ mental health more than extroverts’ - that's my bias. Overall we’re all doing a pretty good job being kind and respectful - with great allowances taken for fits of temper. We’re constantly hitting our heads and “swears” are flying freely. This is what sailors do. (Sailors drink rum too, but the rum rations thus far have been slim).

The kids are finding ways to have fun together instead of fighting/ignoring each other as they can with our home schedule. Working together to get the sails up/down and all the other boating responsibilities are what corporate team building exercises are modeled on. So we’re basically on a crash course in personal and familial growth. Which, as you can imagine, requires many bars of chocolate and bottles of wine for me. (Murray has his pubs and pints).  

The honest truth is that the first 1-2 weeks I was in a foul mood - I really wasn’t excited about buying a boat. I already fulfilled my “live aboard a sailboat” dream with the Katalla and I’ve not had any nostalgic thoughts about doing it again. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize until it was too late that this Young Larry idea was one of Murray’s enthusiasms that he would runaway with. So with my grudging consent - for the higher purpose of a family holiday - here we are. 

But upon our arrival at the Young Larry, the reality was a tough pill to swallow. How did I find myself back on a boat, hitting my head repeatedly, in a perpetual stoop from low ceilings, wearing the same clothes daily because it’s so damn hard to change lying down in a shoe box or standing in a postage stamp-sized floor space where the head clearance is offset from the foot space so you have to stand at a slant, all of it moving, and without any solitude to process? .…and add to it the docking drama, a hand pump toilet and no easy shower…it was a bit much.

My process to wrap my head around being in a situation that I didn’t choose, don’t want, can’t get out of, and have to make the best of for my kids is: Internally - loud and confusing, dark and consuming/Externally - Real. Quiet. And I lose my sense of humor. We’ve all been there, and we all know; this is not pretty. 

It took until Weymouth - and a talk with my good friend Dot to get my attitude adjusted.

It also helped that we found a wine and cheese bar at the harbor, steps from where we were tied up, and Murray and I tucked in there 2 of the 3 Weymouth nights. 

All of which means that, right now, in this quiet moment, sailing nicely with both kids occupied and a cup of tea in hand, I’m congratulating myself that resiliency is one of my character traits…and I am bouncing back to enjoy the adventures we’re having. Tomorrow is another day to manage...

Tidal racing - Studland Bay to Dartmouth via Weymouth

We left Studland Bay aiming to catch current all the way to Dartmouth (60 nm) - but we had a lesson in tidal races/Channel currents. Ultimately, we didn’t pull out far enough to catch the main current, got caught down the side of the bay, and nearly into a tidal race off St Albans headland which was very exciting! The race is where 2 tidal currents meet and the white caps were impressive. This particular race extends up to 3 miles off the headland and we slid down the side of it to stay on the outside of Weymouth Bay. We then tried to push past the Shambles off the Portland Bill (which is the other headland of the same bay), but realized we were going to be in for a very long sail indeed, and weren't in a good position to make best use of the current.
We were being carried along sideways faster than we could sail in our intended direction. Finally, at the last minute we safely could without being sucked into dangerous waters, we decided that wisdom was the better part of valor, cut our losses and headed cross-current into the bay. We then got to "ooo and aahhh" at the very cool rock formations of the Jurassic Coast all the way to Weymouth, at the head of the bay.

Weymouth was a little beach town - past it’s prime perhaps, but plenty to entertain us in the ways of shops and walks. It was the venue for sailing in the 2014 Olympics - there is good viewing of a wide bay and I imagine it was spectacular…seeing the setting makes me want to watch footage of the races.
After obsessing from the water over how to get around the tidal races at The Portland Bill, we took a bus up to see the lighthouse from land-side, which was a eye-openingly windy excursion.

We also got lunch at a true local’s pub and were regaled with stories from a sailor who was in both Her Majesty’s Navy and the Merchant Navy - he had been all over the world. Favorite place? The Caribbean (I think we should take advice from an expert).
Portland is also the site of many quarries (St. Pauls Cathedral is made of Portland granite) and there is one abandoned quarry that sculptors have used as a playground. You can wander through it to find all manner of sculptures carved out of granite in the now-overgrown hills and ravines of the quarry. That was my favorite part of the day.

Another highlight was the Nothe Fort and especially an exhibit of nearly 1,000 military ships/planes/etc made entirely out of wooden matches and matchboxes (to scale, with moving parts). Sam and Murray went first and Sam was so enthralled he brought me to see it another day - when to our delight, the man who made them was there! He was very chatty and appreciated Sam’s fascination with his collection.

He reminded me of my Congdon side - technical, detailed, full of engineering knowledge, and very, very persistent. Really shocking what people can accomplish when they spend their lives doing it.

The next day we had to start late in the day to juggle the tides/currents - we left Weymouth at 1 pm for a lovely sail, ghosting out of the harbor, past the massive Portland harbor (major embarkation point for the Allied troops on D Day), and around the infamous Portland Bill - our timing was perfect and no tidal races or whirlpools in sight.

In order to get to Dartmouth (still about 50 nm away), we decided eventually to start the engine - and it was a long day motoring, our longest day yet. Cream tea then dinner on the water, and we tucked the kids into bed with the engine vibrations for a lullaby. I slept a few hours but Murray refused to lay down until we were safely into Dartmouth and anchored in the heart of the town at 4 am - our first night navigation. Scary but successful!
We woke up in the midst of a busy town that straddles the Dart River with multiple water taxis and ferries. After getting some words of navigational wisdom from the harbor master launch, we motored up the river to explore. We enjoying the quiet pastoral bends until the turn of the tide, when we eased back downriver, through the dance with the ferries, and out past the double castles at the mouth of the river.

And sailed past another picturesque lighthouse on another breathtaking headland…they never cease to amaze.

Our first few hours we made good time but as we rounded the point we were heading directly into the wind - which was picking up and due to increase through night. Wisdom being the better part of valor, instead of pushing on we ducked into Salcombe Harbor, a historic river harbor now filled with posh summer homes elegantly cascading down the steep hillsides. It’s undoubtably nicer to come into these narrow, winding harbors in the daylight rather than 3 am.

Adventuring by foot

We decided to pay a visit to Corfe Castle on the Purbeck peninsula - supposed to be very cool place even though it’s a ruins. I had a suspicion that it would be walkable but also that there was a bus (not direct - connection in Swanage, one cove over). So after futzing about on the boat for awhile, we piled in the PP and made for shore. We started walking about 11:30ish. We asked for directions at a farm tea room near the beach and she didn’t bat an eye when I said we were going to Corfe Castle so I figured that meant we could walk it. Up a pretty lane with a cluster of posh houses and onto the Downs, for a gorgeous walk - amazing views, good walking and lots of cows and sheep with lambs roaming around. 

Unfortunately, we had to descend from the first one into a valley in order to go back up another Down. Even worse, in between them, we had to walk along a narrow country road with cars flying by at terrifying speeds (country roads in any culture…) - I tried to find a way off it and wandered up to a golf course where a friendly lady confirmed that our route did indeed briefly join the road and if we kept on, soon we’d see signage to Corfe Castle. 

Sure enough, when we defied death long enough to make it to our walking trail we were on the path to Corfe Castle (3 3/4 miles from that turn off - Sam nearly rebelled). The most frequent signage was in the form of low, gravestone shaped markers, with words carved into them - they take their trails seriously here.  Soon we had an option for an “Under Hill” route vs “Over the Downs” route - Sam and I chose the Under Hill route and Natalie walked over the downs. Our route was overgrown but clear - skirting between the farm fields and the steep hill. We got thoroughly thistled-up but the cows/horses/sheep distracted us. We found Natalie in Corfe village and rushed to find lunch as we were starving. Had lunch in a pub garden then explored the massive ruins - absolutely worth the walk!

To get back we had a few options: Bus to Swanage and walk the coast back? Or walk the whole way back? A bribery stop in a sweets shop gave me the leverage (Clotted Cream Fudge) to get Sam to agree to walk back so we headed off - all of us on the Downs walk this time, which turned out to be my favorite. You can see the ruins of Corfe Castle for some time and it was awesome to imagine what it might have been like to approach it when it was standing. 

You can see the ruins of Corfe Castle just over Sam's shoulder

 We did the Underhill route for the final Downs, and cut across up and over (rather than the long way around to the tip of the peninsula where it would have been fun to see the Old Harry Rocks from land but oh well) to Stutland Bay and the boat at 7 pm. 

We hailed Murray on the handheld VHF and he came to get us, focused on enjoying a pint at the picturesque pub where he’d had one last night. We all had dinner there to celebrate 16.5 miles hiked (I think my GPS might have overestimated but I’m not sure) - lamb shanks and curry in honor of all the adorable lambs we saw during our hike (and a brie and cranberry baguette sandwich for our vegetarian). Then back to the boat, for a bit of a movie and bed. 

All in all, a very successful land excursion. Sam crushed it - even in terrible footwear! Next stop we’ll get him better shoes pronto. Corfe Castle was worth the beautiful walk and now we can plan to visit sites within 5 miles of the coast without car hire or figuring out the bus. It’s very annoying not to have WiFi to figure things out. 

First family sail

After we woke in Lymington to calm weather, smooth water and took our shot at getting out of the marina at 6 am and had it all go smoothly - we were giddy with relief! We motored across to a mooring buoy outside of Yarmouth to wait for the tide ($13 for 2.5 hr on a mooring - the harbor master doesn’t waste any time collecting his dues). We sailed off the mooring to catch the current through the Needles Channel - exhilarating, beautiful first sail, flying past the Needles in a strong current.

 We made good time to Studland Bay, greeted by the Old Harry rocks. 

Kids got a touch seasick, but quickly revived at anchor. We launched the Portland Pudgy - our sailing dingy that we mostly row in order to get into the beach - and rowed into the beach. The kids and I went first, then after we realized how warm the shallow water was in the sun, Natalie rowed back to get bathing suits and Murray - who got a pint at the picturesque pub up the hill from the beach. Dinner was veg curry back at the boat and the kids finished watching Prince Caspian.

The first week of any boat journey

At long last we introduced Natalie and Sam to the Young Larry!

It was a long trip, repeatedly counting bags from plane, to train, and finally into the welcoming
automobiles of Andrew and Maire.

Last transfer to the final train

We were tired but had that essential burst of arrival energy that carried us through some unpacking and dinner with them in their lovely house. Seasonal asparagus and strawberries!
 As anyone knows, when you first embark on a boating adventure, you don’t actually go anywhere for at least a week. My memories of commercial fishing in Bristol Bay as a teenager include the first days of working in the dusty/muddy boatyard getting the boat ready: hauling nets, painting the hull, and doing other dirty jobs while my dad slaved away getting everything else sorted.
The Young Larry was in a very different marina - quite a posh one in fact. But there was still a lot to do. Andrew spent the better part of 3 days going over the boat with Murray, and I started provisioning for the trip. Natalie and Sam helped out however they could.

It was a pleasant 15 min walk to Lymington High St along the river.

Lymington is a very yacht-y town with lots of touristy shops and the ever-helpful Tescos for groceries.


 The first sail on Friday was lovely!

Docking, not so much in the tight marina.
But we managed with the help of Andrew and Maire.
My biggest fear is the bowsprit: 9 feet spear pointing from our bow. On the Katalla you could walk
out on it but not on this boat. All those expensive yachts with their flimsy fiberglass shells that our
bowsprit could pierce right through...it literally gives me nightmares.
Another key difference is that the gears and throttle are only on 1 control instead of 2...to go ahead
you push it forward into gear and further to accelerate, the opposite for reverse.
We punctuated the boat work with a walk through the salt marshes to the impressive Hurst Castle fort, and dinner at a nice pub.
On Friday our dear friends the Broads came with their 3 boys and we had planned to go out for a sail. Unfortunately things did not go smoothly - we reversed out of the slip with only one small scare, but
then, when Murray went to put it into forward it was jammed in reverse and back we went, towards the next finger of boats.
With 5 children littering the decks we leapt around, attempting to soften the blow with our fenders.
In a typical show of spousal support I grabbed the controls and again tried to put it in forward which,
 since it was stuck in reverse, gave us a burst of speed into the innocent boats behind us. Natalie has
a description of the whole scene from her perspective on her blog too.
Along with the horrible crunch/sliding sound, there was a woman on a boat we were aimed at (but we slid by without even touching) who was shrieking like a harpy at us! Like…crazy lady shrieking. I was sputtering, “we’re not even touching your boat!” as we were sliding past, en route for the others, but she didn’t shut up until Natalie snapped, “Yelling at us isn’t helping at all! We’re doing everything we can - you can come help if you want!” That’s my girl…We all got a huge laugh at that afterwards.
Thankfully, no one was hurt, the damage was shockingly minimal, and the best thing was that Alexa and Rupert were there to help - both in the moment with the boat and afterwards with our nerves.

We took the kids to the oldest Lido (saltwater pool) in the UK, one that is 3 min from the boat and which Sam had been begging to go to.

Ice creams and chips after a swim

Playing in the cabin

We had a good day catching up and Alexa kept me from freaking out. As Murray says, she has a good
 effect on me.

Next day we found an angel of a mechanic who addressed the gears and offered to do a quick “once over” engine class with Murray on Monday.
Somewhere in the next few days we went on one of our infamous death marches, the highlight of which was Sam’s introduction to cream tea - in a tent in a u-pick strawberry field. Amazing! He is a huge fan of cream tea now and we plan to adopt it as a family tradition.

Tuesday morning, at long last, we were ready to go, the wind was calm, the tides favorable and we gently eased out of our slip and away from our first marina home, into our great family adventure.