The weather forecast for the past few days have started to show a series of lows coming our way over the Atlantic with landfall and the associated nastiness arriving in time for the start of our jaunt along the SW coast. As it happens the winds are forecast to be around 18 to 24kts which is F5 or F6 but with larger gusts. This is perfectly doable, but the direction is on the nose…..

Now, we are not adverse to general windy nastiness and indeed we’ve had our fair share of stuff in the past….however, the weather is also forecasting fairly unremitting rain along our path until Saturday….and we’ve not got our sea legs yet…and it’s supposed to be fun….and we’re retired so no real rush…and James has a groin strain. He likes to think that it was a heroic piece of athleticism, but in reality it was sustained while carrying coffee upstairs (maybe that counts as athletic heroism at 71).
As a result, we spend the day loading, tidying, stowing and victualling Heydays so that we are ready for the real ‘off’ around next Saturday or Sunday.

Post script…..
The right decision. The headlands we were due to round or pass, Needles, Durlston, St Aldhelms are all experiencing gusts over 30kt…well into gale territory and not something to be voluntarily chosen as a hard beat to windward.

A lovely view of the Needles from the comfort of John and Chris’s balcony…

Just a short hop across to Cowes given the lack of wind and the persistent rain. Not spectacular or super-adventurous, but pleasant to have lunch on board and then mooch around the town. The crowds have gone and Cowes is rather less pretentious or yachty than in the summer months. Quite a few sailing school boats are in the marina and they all seem to have matching gear…we feel rather scruffy next to them…looks are everything right?

On our visits here we always ponder the island nature and what a bridge would do. At one level, the island is quite quaint and charming in a slightly 50’s sort of way. But on the other hand, why would any young people really want to stay (apart from the relatively low cost of housing)? It is easy for the occasional visitor to be charmed, but to live here…? A bridge would undoubtedly bring more money and opportunity here and house prices would clearly rise, but that of itself would also keep young people away or prevent them staying. Perhaps it is best that Wightlink and Red Funnel keep raking in the cash from their astronomical prices!

Wednesday and the end of the little trip...

Domestic stuff draws us inexorably home sadly, so 5.30 sees us up with an unwelcome alarm and even more unwelcome rain, to catch the last of the ebb down the Solent to Lymington. We have time to make coffee before we slip the moorings in the dark and drizzle and make our way out of Cowes.

A single blast in our ear lets us know that the fast cat to Southampton is about to leave. We keep well out of the way as they take no prisoners, but they soon leave us bobbing in their wake, and as we head round Egypt Point the light is just enough to make out the rather damp shoreline of West Cowes. Of the mainland we see nothing!

There is, despite the damp and dark, something special about sailing into the dawn. The feeling that it is mostly just us with the sea to ourselves and the gradual fading of the light from the buoys. We have a wind of sorts but by the time we reach the entrance to the Lymington River the tide is just starting to flood once more and we are grateful yet again for the ability to burn some diesel to get us home.

Breakfast tied up to the pontoon is a juicy fry-up with more coffee before we start the process of clearing and packing and saying goodbye once more. Not the most extraordinary of voyages certainly, but a joy to be on the water and to feel Heydays come to life even if not far from home.

We have decided to stay an extra night here and explore the upper reaches of the Hamble in the dinghy. The river is more open than we had expected and we trundle up to where there used to be some old boatyards and an amazing set of floating barges called Aladdin’s Cave. This was the repository of a real treasure trove of old boaty bits and pieces, and the scene of an encounter many years ago which sums up John. He was seen holding a very shapely but completely indeterminate (in terms of future or past use) piece of Stainless Steel. He was trying desperately to think of somewhere he could use it. He only reluctantly put it down when it was pointed out to him that it probably weighed more than most of the rest of the gear on the boat put together…

Aladdin’s Cave is sadly no more (or at least we couldn’t find it)… probably to the relief of the female section of the group. The river at this point (just before Burseldon Bridge) was flooding extremely fast and true to form, the outboard decided at that moment to take a break from its duties. A slightly undignified paddle saw us washed up on a muddy bit of beach by the road. This is where the engine decided to resume duties and seemed to run without problem. As we were not far from the chandlers we decided to wander in to look for a few bits including some new wellies for me. The assistant was slightly aghast when I took off my muddy sandals and handed me what in the end porved to be an inadequate supply of tissues and disinfectant gel. It was not my finest hour trying to clean my feet in front of a shop full of rather more well shod boaty folk. We mumbled apologies and said that we would come back later. Oddly she didn’t try to stop us.

We continued up stream and encountered an amazing set of standing waves formed by the sheer rate of the current, before the rather calmer waters just underneath the M23. The engine needed another break, but this time we were able to hold on to a pontoon while pondering a pleasant afternoon next to a thundering motorway.

On the basis that less is more, the details of the engine repairs are left out and we were able to head back down stream in the first of the ebb in a rather more decorous and sedate style. We headed straight for the Jolly Sailor (as featured several times in the awful soap about boats called Howard’s Way) and counted the trip as just another little adventure even if it is little over a half hour drive from our home port.

We wandered on foot this time into the village of Hamble (Hamble le Rice as it is properly called) and had afternoon tea from the beach café and wondered at the understated little ferry which plies from Hamble across to Warsash…

At the time of writing we have the cockpit tent up as the promised rain arrives…Oh well, scrabble and cribbage it is!

We are up early (for us) and leave for the gentle sail down Southampton Water all the way to the Hamble River. We have an appointment to meet Debs and her husband Cole on their boat Lani. We have for some time been concerned about the toxic impact on the environment of the ani-foul which we slap on Heydays’ bottom every year. We have come across a product called Finsulate which is essentially a self-adhesive velour-like substance which has been used for some time in The Netherlands…and a few boats so far in the UK. The company have put us in touch with Debs so that we can see what it has been like to use in practice.

Southampton Water is its usual hectic self with pleasure boats and commercial stuff all vying for supremacy. We have a SE breeze which is almost dead on the nose (of course) and settle in for a tack back down to the Hamble.

The old Paddle Steamer Waverly churns magnificently towards us while we hop out of the way of a container ship (we cheat and have the motor running just to make sure of keeping out of harms way).

Oddly, in all the years of sailing locally and even internationally, we have never taken Heydays back to the Hamble. As expected, it is absolutely choked with boats and marinas and moorings, but it also hass a charm which belies its position wedged between the two cities of Portsmouth and Southampton.

We are all very pleasantly surprised by The Mercury Yacht Harbour even though it is now owned by the ubiquitous MDL group. Our mooring is on the shallow and tight side, but our view from the stern is just one of gentle woodland and egrets fishing for their supper in the retreating shallows.

Debs and Cole give us a really warm welcome aboard their UFO 31 and are happy to talk about their mixed experiences of the new system. This year has been one of heavy fouling and Cole is a scuba diver and has already been over the side to clean the bottom twice. This is not really what we had hoped to hear, but while the weed has grown, it appears to rub off really easily…with the added bonus that scraping/brushing does not release yet more toxic stuff into the water. We realise that if we go down this route, we too will have to scrape a couple of times a year. However, with our bilge keels that is no real problem across a drying tide. We already need to beach her or have her lifted out for a pressure wash in the course of a season, but would have no problem even hosing her down on a public slip given the lack of anti-foul.

Lots to ponder, but we decide to go for the environmental benefits and have Heydays wrapped in Finsulate. No doubt the coming months will see the fruit of this decision one way or another.  The marina has a small bistro attached and we have our Sunday lunch (late) looking out over what has so far been a surprising and pleasant find compared to our expectations. The remainder of the afternoon is spent snoozing gently in the last of the sun before we decide to make the minimum effort of a walk along the river bank. Given the number of Porsche, Astons and Teslas in the car park, we are surprised that there is a healthy number of slightly scruffy (in a bohemian way) liveaboards on the mudflats. This reminds us almost of the myriad walkways and old boats lying in the mudlfats of The Blackwater in Essex.