We’ve been eying the forecasts for the last few days and starting Wednesday nothing looks great…plus we need to be back by Thursday evening anyway, so we decide that with a good breeze today (albeit with some showers), we will enjoy the sail back to Lymington.

A boat near us decides to turn around  but the wind makes it very difficult for them…and as always there are plenty of onlookers all of a sudden. So after using up most of our eggs for a last breakfast, it is with some trepidation that we prepare to cast off ourselves. As it happens it all runs very smoothly and we are smugly putting away lines and fenders when we get shouted at by the harbourmaster from the shore. It turns out that we can’t leave as the big barge and tugs are coming in, there is not room for us all and would we mind awfully tying up on his bit of the dock…or words to that effect. There ensues a scramble to get lines and fenders out again, although by this time more people are interested in the tugs than us…

We finally take our leave and head out into a choppy Solent and a nice breeze.

With 2 reefs in main and genoa, Heydays punches along happily, although we have become accustomed to light or no airs in the last few days and have become too relaxed about stowing stuff. The toaster and kettle sprout wings noisily to remind us that sailing boats are supposed to tip!

We round the headland off Cowes and the breeze pick up with gusts over the deck up to 27 kt. Nothing perturbs Heydays and we tack down the western Solent in record time. It has been great to get some ‘proper’ sailing in even if it is only the last day.

We tidy up back in Lymington and scoff the last of the curry for late lunch. The final act of the day is a reminder of our mortality though, as there is an ambulance on the quay waiting for the inshore lifeboat to bring a boat and casualty back in. The lifeboat crews are amazing and doing it for free. It turns out that the yacht had engine failure, but that as they were trying to get a sail up, it too jammed and the skipper at that point had a heart attack.

This has not been one of our epic cruises, but it was good to be out on the water again in the company of our bubble friends. We got to know a bit more about some of our local cruising grounds and just generally chilled. That, in the year we have had so far is not to be sniffed at.

Stay safe…

We have managed to book in to Bembridge for tonight…it has been full for the last few days, so after a leisurely breakfast we slip out of Haslar, past old historic Portsmouth and out into the Eastern Solent once more.

The dark clouds overtake us despite there being not a breath of wind, and soon we are looking our usual best in oilies (when were they last actually oilies?) as we motor past the forts once more.

It turns out that these old Napoleonic defences are up for sale at a snip of £1.7m for all three. Horse Sand is derelict, but the other two are reasonably together apparently in a chic sort of way….not that you would notice from the outside…

The entrance to Bembridge is narrow and shallow and we follow the GPS, whilst also being aware that they reposition the buoys regularly to reflect the changing pattern of the sand banks. We count them down assiduously as it is easy to go from one red to another and completely miss an intervening dog-leg.

The scene as we approach is very ‘Isle of Wight’ with the heavily gabled houses and even the horses on the beach…

We were last here a couple of years ago, rafted 4 or 5 deep, but they have made enormous improvements recently and changed the layout to finger berths…reduced capacity, but it means we don’t disturb anyone when we leave.

The afternoon dries up and against the background of a sailing school, we take the little water taxi across the harbour to find a co-op and look at the little shops in the village.

Look is all we do, as the people of Bembridge while having remarkable hair (the numerous hairdressers are open), seem to be able to do without other opportunities to spend cash…even the pub is shut. We assume that the rest of the island must be reached only by rough dirt tracks and boggy impenetrable marshes…judging by the preponderance of big 4×4 vehicles.

As we prepare to return there is a big barge and houseboat with two attendant tugs standing off in deep water waiting to come in.

John spends the rest of the afternoon cooking a curry while the rest of us (except Chris) help by generally lazing keeping out of his way. A very smart and refurbished Moody 33 by the name of Blue Tack ties up next to us and makes poor old Heydays look a bit shabby. Our thoughts turn to the winter works and general refit…and the cash required.

As we are tucking into our marvellous curry, a dog (with owners) decides to relieve himself against our electricity mains cable (and that of the boat next door). Fortunately for the dog, he is short and the socket is high. The owners prepare to move on until we say “sorry, but could you wash that down?”.  Why is it that we Brits say sorry when other people muck up? Anyway, the bloke is ready to challenge but fortunately his wife is very apologetic and hoses it down…the rest of the evening is spent talking through some Ricard, some Reisling and the remains of some red.

Sounds like we are being churlish, but to finally get on heydays and for the weather to turn after the great weather we have had so far this summer seems mean. We decide that the best way to cheer us up is a full English at the café in the marina. This together with some nice coffee takes up  most of the morning (it’s a tough life) and we finally set of in a mizzle (is it even a word?) for the short hop back to the lovely anchorage at East Head, just inside the harbour entrance. We join a dozen or so other boats in the peace and quiet as the drizzle dries off. There are a few hardy souls on the beach and there is even the ice-cream boat who sees us after much frantic shouting and whistling. The rest of the day passes in a few games and general lazing before its time for dinner…and a few drinks.

A larger motor boat joins the gathering with attendant heavy bass and lots of motorised toys. We try not to be grumpy at our peace being disturbed…everyone is entitled to enjoy themselves…. They eventually leave around dark and we are left to a glorious remainder of the night and even some stars. There is something about a peaceful anchorage which is hard to beat, despite the comforts of a marina.

Early morning coffee looking out over the water, even if it is grey is special and we treat ourselves to some sautéed plums for breakfast (recipe courtesy of our friend Alex), but sadly none of his genuine french brioche….granary will have to do.

We continue the theme of just mooching locally and head out, bound for Haslar in Portsmouth. We manage to sail for a while which is nice, but the misty dampness soon gives way to no wind and a steady downpour.

The Southsea to Ryde hovercraft momentarily thinks about taking us out, but heads away behind us in a cacophony of noise and spray.

We are diligent in keeping to the small ship part of the channel, when we are overtaken by a fast rib on the wrong side. In no time they have been flagged down by a harbour patrol who appears to give them a stern talking to…ha! Some of us consider another rendition of “oh when the saints….” as we enter enemy territory. Everyhting looks grey as we enter and we hunker down for a wet afternoon..

…but as evening comes so does the sun and the spinnaker tower takes on a completely different look.

We decide to head out and treat ourselves to dinner on the old lightship while musing on what a hellhole those things must have been.

Lighthouses were bad enough in terms of isolation on dangerous rocks for weeks on end, but the lightships just relied on an anchor to hold fast and were just as isolated while having the dubious benefit of also being tossed around for good measure. From the deck of the lightship we get a good view of our navy…most of it we assume, as both of our aircraft carriers are in dock. A far cry from the old days of HMS Victory and HMS Warrior moored just a few meters away.

…and the spinkaer tower almost takes on a magical light at night….it would still be better in red!! COYS.

We’re staying in Northney for another night and decide to just explore this end of Chichester Harbour and maybe go up to Emsworth. The marina (as marinas go) is pleasant and reasonably off the beaten track.

We decide, after 6 years to finally get our old tender sailing. The old Tinker has done stirling service over the years, but is showing her age sadly. However the basic design is still hard to beat and we have also carried a mast and sail around with us on our travels, but have never got around to actually using it in anger….today is the day to try it out.

…no wind, but it works. We take a ride in it (minus mast and sails) up to Emsworth which we have visited many years before. Fond memories of Madeline and our friend Graham and their boat My Foolish Heart…

Emsworth has a country sort of feel about it and is still full of independent shops despite the close proximity of Portsmouth and Chichester.

The very best bit though, is a wine shop with a tiny courtyard bar…

Who cares if the weather has turned when there’s a nice bottle on offer…

The earlyish low tide requires an early departure to get over the sill….early in these times means up around 6.30…at least it is not getting up at 2.30am to get a tide…perhaps we’re going soft.

We slip the lines before other folk are up and have our first coffee as we slide past the deserted beaches into the morning sun. The only folk around are a group exercising horses on the beach…

The sea is a flat calm with not a breath of wind, but we are happy just to be out on the water. Predicted electric storms have led to us booking yet another marina at the northern end of Chichester Harbour. We had hoped to anchor more, but the proximity of taller masts than us is a definite comfort. By 9.30 we have ghosted into Chichester Harbour…

… and we anchor with a few other boats just off the sandy beach and dunes of West Wittering.

The beach here has no commercial facilities and is wonderfully empty compared to some we have seen this summer. Our faithful tender is pumped up and we spend the morning lazing on the beach and taking the occasional dip to cool off. As we return to Heydays the beach is suddenly filled with a young girl’s birthday party and ‘dressed’ boats arriving to ‘happy birthday to you…’ drifting across the water. Lovely spot made all the more lovely as we finish our lunch, with the arrival of a floating ice-cream seller. We tell him about the party on the beach and he is surrounded as soon as he lands.

The clouds are building and there are one or two rumbles from the north. We hear about some flash floods around the M25 and bits of the west country, and we head deeper into the harbour as a breeze builds just enough to take us under genoa alone up channel. Despite being close to ‘civilisation’ we are wonderfully secluded as we slip, past the marshes and mud flats into Northney marina just off the Emsworth Channel. Our berth is on the ‘hammerhead’ and we can look out over Egrets and Terns finding dinner in the mud and shallows.

We grab some beers in the last of the sun at the little café by the marina office and then head off ‘home’ to cook dinner and while the evening away, as the flashes and rumbles remind us that we are grateful for the large and reassuringly tall mast on the boat next to us.

As a slight footnote…we have a conversation with a neighbour on a motorboat about the amount of fuel he uses. A mate of his pays £6000 to fill his Sunseeker, which takes him from Cowes to Devon, but only as far back as Poole! We feel smug…until the wind dies!

A red letter day as we set off in sun and virtually no wind for Langstone Harbour…definitely unfashionable. But while not epic, it is good to hear water running under Heydays’ keels and to watch the old familiar landmarks slip past. We have chosen a marina this evening as there are thunderstorms in the forecast and we don’t fancy being the only people around with a long pointy metal thing up in the sky in an anchorage…

We leave Cowes and Southampton in our wake, past Osborne House (built by Albert for his Bride…although to be fair he probably required a chunk of our taxes to complete it) and on to the Eastern Solent. This part of the Solent has more commercial traffic and we chose not to argue with a couple of tugs and a long tow.

The old No Man’s Land fort passes and we manage to get some sail up with a freshening breeze and switch off the old iron lump.

After such a long time away, it is so relaxing to be pushed along by the breeze and to feel Heydays leaning at last to what she was designed for. The beaches of Southsea and Hayling Island mark the entrance to the Harbour and we pick our way up the very narrow and very shallow channel to Southsea Marina.

There is a curious sill here which opens automatically once the water above it is 1.6m…interesting use of passive hydraulics.

By the time we are tied up, we are all bathed in sweat once more and end up lying about like beached whales.

The little café serves up ice cream from which they forget to deduct Sunak’s 50%. She offers a refund, but we each have another ice cream for free instead. Almost worth voting for them!!!!

It turns out this is also a favourite spot for some starlings…who’ve been eating blackberries….

In the cooler part of the evening we wander in search of what turns out to be an elusive shop. As Southampton supporters we chose not to sing ‘Oh When the Saints go Marching in’ as we find ourselves deep in a large (and presumably Pompey) estate…how feeble is that?

It turns out that starlings are not the only ones who like going to the top of the mast and James is hauled up to sort out a windvane which has presumably been damaged by previous birds…

Our plans to do some more fettling on the old girl are thwarted by the heat of the next day and we head for the beach instead. Much to James’ surprise he swims in UK waters for the first time in forever (as does Chris and John)…refreshing is the official temperature, but great none-the-less. The Chinese member of the party gets her toes wet! By evening we manage to get a table in the air-conditioned Indian as the sun goes down…

…and sweat curry for the rest of the night!

It has been ages since we posted, or even been for anything other than a day sail on Heydays. We won’t go into the reasons for this and I doubt that any of us, even in our dotage, will forget the spring and summer of 2020 and the impact of the coronavirus pandemic. The result for Heydays was neglect over several months and the inevitable build up of mould and mildew. Once we were allowed back on board we treated the old girl to some serious deep cleaning, but as this mini-cruise is showing, we still found plenty of nooks and crannies which haven’t seen the light of day for nearly a year…and a smell to match!
Still, its great to be back on board with a semblance of normality and we are the proud owners of a solar panel mounted across the davits. This has proved to be one of the best domestic improvements so far and we can keep the fridge on (for cold beer) without having to run the engine…our little bit for the environment?
Social media has suggested that with many boats opting to cruise home waters this year, the anchorages and marinas are getting crowded, especially in the west. Indeed, it seems as if there have been some angry scenes in Yarmouth on the isle of Wight. Planning is a rather grand word for our decision making, but we opt to meander east towards Bembridge, Portsmouth, Langstone, Chichester etc and see what we can find in the less fashionable areas. Newtown Creek and Bembridge both heaving, so we opt to stay in Lymington and we sit in the late sun telling ourselves that we would be more than pleased to rock up somewhere like this in France or indeed, anywhere but our home port. What is not to like about the birds calling on the marshes…and the occasional gin…or two.

With local restaurants being booked and our reluctance to do too much in crowded places, we opt to do more cooking on board and have brought a great selection of pre-prepared nosh. Monday sees us dining on Portuguese Bacalao con Natas (fish pie to you). The simple act of just chucking it in the oven reveals yet another minor niggle, of which we seem to have more than our fair share this year…the oven will only work with the application of some mole grips and a casual disregard for health and safety. Nothing will get in the way of our dinner ….