With a day of luxury ahead of us while waiting for Chris, we decide to tackle the deep joy of replacing the seals on the sea toilet. Without being indelicate, the loo has become an increasingly noisy experience over the last few months with protesting seals (the rubber kind) and unnecessary heaving (on handles). We take the precaution of chucking down plenty of loo cleaner first, plus donning our own squeaky rubber gloves before diving into the heads. It proves to be a surprisingly satisfying job in the end and the result is a toileting experience to be looked forward to. If only we had done it sooner. Guests on Heydays can now gain comfort with discretion without announcing to the whole river what is going on.

Lunch is mostly liquid in the lovely Harbour Lights Picture House bar and terrace and we book a movie for the evening. More afternoon snoozing (we deserve it) and we are ready for Chris and some dinner.

One of the joys of this particular marina is that we have a whole 50m walk to the cinema and we watch Elvis which s the story of his life, but told largely through the eyes of ‘Colonel’ Tom Parker, his disgraced and abusive manager. We are reminded of what a legacy of great music he left, let alone the cultural difference he made by singing and dancing in the negro tradition borne from a youth spent in the poorer parts of Memphis.

It has been a funny period and this will no doubt continue for some time. Opinion on Heydays ranges from Monarchist, through mild acceptance to distinctly republican. However, we all agree on a surprising number of things. Firstly, The Queen has been a fixture and point of reference in all our lives for almost all our lives. She had no real choice (unlike most of us) about how her life would pan out. True, she lived a life of luxury and privilege, and the history of empire and her ancestors is not one of glory or civil equity, however she chose to conduct herself in a way which was undoubtedly honest, bound by a sense of duty and deep moral values. We all agreed that our politicians could learn a lot from the way she conducted herself at all levels of political life and that this country would be a nicer place if they did.

Family commitments have pushed back the start date and pulled back the end date, so our brief  September cruise is rather briefer than originally planned. However, after a glorious summer of almost unbridled sunshine, Heydays sets off from Lymington bound for Southampton, in what started as a fine drizzle, but quickly turns to something which old Noah would find disconcerting. The Isle of Wight (just a couple of miles away) is nowhere to be seen and we settle in for the ride, telling each other that this is what we have been looking forward to!

As it happens, the downpour passes very quickly and soon we are in occasionally sunny spells with a following breeze around 10kts. Behind us the sky looks threatening once more, but we ride our luck and it passes by with not a drop falling on us.

We are flying the flag at half mast as this is the day after The Queen has died bringing an end to the second Elizabethan era. The various bulletins and announcements seem rather surreal, especially those referring to The King (most of us have not had one of those in our lifetime!).

We have chosen to book into Ocean Village again with the intention of walking to football at St Mary’s on Saturday, but inevitably the premier league has been cancelled and so we will have a day of leisure to look forward to in Southampton…at least it will be a day without the usual Saturday afternoon anxiety or even deep depression. As we are often reminded, supporting Saints is a lesson in learning to live with disappointment. Dinner on the boat is a treat, with oysters to start followed by (sustainably sourced) skate in a simple brown butter sauce with capers and fresh new potatoes. Chris has no regrets about missing this…she’ll be joining us tomorrow!

The question the night before, was how late can we leave it before getting up to catch the last of the ebb out of the harbour and the early flood back up to the Solent?

We settle on up at 5.30 and leave at 6. In the event though, we are awake at 5.15 and realise that the tide predictions (always notoriously random in the harbour even with modern technology) show even less water than we had reckoned. A slightly more hurried departure than we had planned sees us inching over the shallows with barely more than 10cm between us and a 4 hour ignominious wait for the water to come back. We hold our breath…..and then we are in the heaven of deep water once more and motoring into the rising light.

Now we can properly focus on coffee and toast as we don wet weather gear for what turns out to be a very showery ride back…this is what English summers are supposed to be like and the light across the Isle of Wight tells of more stuff to come!

Some of the showers are actually torrential, but they don’t dampen our memories of what turns out to be a short (in distance) cruise but really relaxing just pottering around the tremendous beauty on our Dorset doorstep.

Over night, Heydays takes the ground gently as the tide falls, but this is the joy of a bilge keeler, as she settles gently into the mud on a (reasonably) even keel. The morning tide sees us ready for the off. The river is flooding rapidly and we consider for a little while how to a) get off the tight mooring without side-swiping another boat and b) how to turn round in a river only a little wider than the length of the old girl. Our deliberations are given an added tinge by the now crowded clubhouse (why are they all there on a Monday morning???) who will be hoping for a bit of early “entertainment”.

In the event, our plans pay off and we feel reasonably smug as we gracefully ease her into the stream and turn in her own length before waving a cheery goodbye to the (presumably disappointed onlookers). Actually, I’m being unfair, as the Redclyffe club turns out to be one of the very nicest places we have been to in a long while.

We decide that this mini cruise is more of a relaxing amble and so by lunchtime we are still in Poole Harbour, but anchored just off the beautiful Arne peninsular with its nature reserve….(and all this just a stone’s throw from the big ferry terminal on the other side of the harbour).

A short ride ashore in the dinghy, and we wander through the ancient woodland with few others in sight. A rustling in the bushes and there is the white stag in all his glory. After a short pause to take us in, he is off with an effortless and almost soundless bound back into the cover. This alone was worth the walk.

A few other boats are anchored near by in the only deepish puddle hereabouts, but as the tide recedes and the mud encroaches, the only sounds are from the sea birds quarrelling over their fish suppers.

So night night, as we need to catch an early tide tomorrow morning…

Up early (for us!!) and on the move to catch the tide up the river to Wareham. Coffee and toast on the go as we pass a few other early risers…although this doesn’t seem to include the scouts!

The harbour in this part is really beautiful (I’ve probably mentioned that before) and we potter gently and ever more warily across the mudflats…

… to the winding channel up to Wareham. By the time the river is really narrow, the paddle-boarders, canoeists and motor boaters are out in force and we have someone in the bows keeping a sharp watch round the bends.

We were hoping for a mooring on the quay next to the bridge, but unsurprisingly there is no space…

… and we pick our way back down stream, wondering about picking up a vacant mooring. We call the Redclyffe Yacht Club but they have no space and nor does Ridge Wharfe. Oh well. Wareham will just have to do without our vast reserves of spending money! Then the phone rings and it is Adrian from Redclyffe who says that he can squeeze us onto his own mooring for the night. He was very apologetic about saying no the first time, but it is heart-warming that someone would go to the trouble to make some space and to call us back. The club there is tremendously friendly (although the mooring is a bit of a squeeze for Heydays) and is a world away from the commercial marinas of Lymington and the rest of the south coast.

We trundle the 10 minutes up a hot and dusty path to Wareham in search of a little light lunch, but with dwindling hopes as we see the crowds on the quay and the pubs by the water. However… just a couple of streets back is the Horse and Groom who have seats in the shady garden, some lovely ales…and a little light lunch of roast dinner with all the trimmings. We have no will power. To top it all, the staff are amazingly friendly and welcoming. Another afternoon of dozing in the sun in what promises to be the last couple of days of the heat wave.

We had though about a trip up the river to Wareham, but realise that we are simply up too late for the tide. Joshua Slocum would be scandalised! While Magaluf in Dorset has its attractions, we trundle off in search of a quieter anchorage. With a grand total of 55 minutes under the keel, we drop the anchor again in the South Deep just south of Furzey Island and a stones throw from Goathorn point.

There follows a completely unremarkable day, just lazing, drinking and reading…bliss.

Once again the sun does not disappoint and we never cease to be amazed how peaceful and deserted this place is and yet still so close to the bustle and general noise of the north of the harbour.

..and we doze off in the company of jsut a couple of others…rocking very gently…

Funerals and families have slightly curtailed the start and finish of our planned time on Heydays this month and this, together with the persistent Easterlies means that we head off west instead of our original thoughts of heading back east for a change. We take the noon tide out of Lymington past the hazy mud flats…

…and get popped out of the Hurst Narrows like corks out of cheap prosecco on a night in Bournemouth….due mainly to the spring tides and the full moon.

We have tentatively planned to spend a night in Poole harbour and are in no rush to get to the entrance there before the tide starts to flood, as it can be every bit as ferocious as the Hurst narrows. The afternoon sea breeze kicks in early and in the space of 5 minutes we go from a very light NE zephyr to a nice southerly F4. The south west Hampshire coast slips away and we keep Hengistbury head and it’s shoal waters a respectable distance off and settle in for a leisurely lunch.

Sailing at the moment must be what it is like to sail in the Med, no real thought about temperature or layers or oilies as is usually the case in the English summer, just the same shorts and T-shirt every day and loads of factor 60.

Soon however we notice a plume of smoke over Studland and begin to realise that it is something rather more serious. The news feeds confirm a major heath fire and it seems that the chain ferry has been suspended to enable emergency services direct access and that people are being evacuated. It seems less than sensible to head to an anchorage in the harbour which is directly down wind of the fire.

We opt to join the several dozen or so others who have decided to do the same…or who are just enjoying the playground near Old Harry Rocks. We avoid dropping the hook in the conservation area with due deference to the eel grass beds and their attendant sea horses, but can’t help but wonder how the sea horses feel about the dozens of powerful motor boats, jet skis and general humanity in such close proximity. Even they can’t detract from the beauty though of Old Harry though…

The fire rages on, and while we are prepared to shift out should the wind change, we decide to stay for the night and see what things are like in the morning. As darkness falls there is a spectacular sunset…

and an even more spectacular Sturgeon moon as it shines directly through a rocky hole off the cliffs. We are also grateful that the vast majority of fun seekers have departed with the sun and it feels less like Magaluf and more like a spectacular bit of English coast.

Just round the two headlands of Bolt Head and Start point is Brixham which two of us visited on the way west. Again, the winds are fickle and we have time to read, mend and generally laze around as the red and ancient Devon cliffs roll past.

This time we end up in the marina, but our first born are mercifully spared and for once it is a pleasant experience. The weather is about to turn and we start to plan more carefully the passage across Lyme Bay. With expected SW (at last!) winds of F4 to 6, the Bill and its race are not to be taken lightly this time. The everlasting debate…do we keep out (certainly) and then do we plug on for Poole or head back on ourselves a bit and into Weymouth or Portland. We resolve to see what the wind actually does tomorrow.

23rd June Brixham to ???

The wind in the morning turns out to be pretty much southerly which means a fine reach (fast) instead of a near dead run (sloppy and swelly). However once we are out there, it is very much a steady F6 and certainly not the F4 to 6 promised. With gusts at the top end of 6, it doesn’t take long for the sea to kick up and be only just aft of the beam. This is a day for keeping at least 5 miles south of the Bill and we are comforted by a couple of others who appear to have the same idea. With two reefs in the main and a couple of rolls in the genoa, Heydays is wonderfully balanced. She always responds well to a slightly smaller press of sail than heeling over on her ear. Only the occasional wave knocks the bows or the stern around. 6 hours sees us due south of the Bill and we can see the breaking water in the race.

We decide to call it a day and head in for Portland, especially as the latest forecast for our bit of inshore waters talks about a strong wind warning. We are certainly right in the upper ends of a F6 with gusts well over. We head for the narrowish gap between the race and the western end of the shambles bank with just a genny left flying on a dead run. Even though we are some way clear, the water is still confused and very choppy, but then, all of a sudden, we are free and enter the relative calm of Portland Harbour. We are intending to anchor but a lot of inviting and empty buoys beckon and soon we are riding out the worst of the weather courtesy of the Royal Navy Sailing Association. There is something deeply satisfying eating a meal on board while the weather does its thing outside, knowing that we are snug and secure.

Saturday 24th June. Decision…or chickening out?

The plan is to leave at 4am to reach the Hurst Narrows on the flood before the ebb starts…don’t want to be there in strong wind over tide! At 3.30am the alarm rings unpleasantly with the wind still howling through the rigging having done so steadily all night. The forecast remains at 5 to 7 although decreasing  to 4 to 6. By 4am we are back in bed having decided to call it a day. The winds for Sunday are no better and with domestic commitments on Monday and Tuesday we pull into the marina to leave the old girl there until Wednesday.

We keep going over whether we have chickened out, but the yachtie magazines are full of stories of people who left on a timetable and pressed on regardless, only to come to later grief…

The harbour is a playground for fit young men and women and these strong winds are like manna to them. There are kite surfers, windsurfers on foiling boards and most amazingly a fleet of foiling dinghies called Waszps…

Some of course are more proficient than others, but we are still amazed at how anyone can control such an unstable and very twitchy platform…

We are content to have hot showers and to wend our way home.

Another glorious set of easterlies (although to be fair, virtually no wind at all) see us head East… The purists along with Joshua Slocum himself, will be turning in their graves, muttering darkly about sailing boats, wind and a modern lack of patience to go where it takes you. Presumably they don’t have grandchildren, around whose little fingers they are wrapped, or other more mundane commitments. However, the motor to Salcombe is very pleasant in an unstressed kind of way and we put the sails up more for show than any real means of propulsion…we have all day after all.

Salcombe is as pleasant as always and we pick up a mooring mid harbour which is served by a very efficient (and cheap-for-Salcombe) water taxi. The town has a reputation for vying with Sandbanks as the most expensive real estate in the UK and it is certainly busy.

Lunch on pasties and dinner of fish and chips sitting on the harbour wall makes for a healthy day of eating…but with another lovely sunset over the town we sit in the cockpit with fat tummies…and the odd rum or two.

Post Script

We decide to stay for another day and make use of the beaches on the east side of the harbour. The water temperature suits half of the crew and they slosh about happily in what the rest of us feel is near freezing. Clearly James and Yee Tak are not impressed with Wim Hoff.

Monday sees a completely different river and the early(ish) morning colours and sunshine put us in the mood to tackle the recalcitrant outboard.

The problem we discover is a jelly like residue in the carburettor and the fuel tank. This is a relatively common problem with the more recent E10 and even E5 petrol especially in older engines. We get the tank and carb clean and she runs like a dream finally on the old petrol we have in Heydays. We’ll try to source something better in Salcombe…

We actually make it to the slip in style this time and can’t resist a few pictures of the old girl through the trees as she lies gently to the mooring…

There is a glorious walk around the headland which starts off through sun-dappled woods and gradually climbs up to some stunning views over the Yealm Estuary and the Mewstone Rock.

The skylarks chatter irritatedly at us and a raptor of some description (could it be a Red Kite?) circles lazily below us above the rocks. Oddly the walk ends up back at the Ship for a late lunch ….pint of prawns, fishy nibbles and the odd pint or two.

Back on Heydays the late afternoon sunny snooze is disturbed by a boat coming up river looking for a mooring. They are not exactly steady and seem to be doing everything at too much speed. All our fingers are crossed that they don’t decide to come along side us and we keep our heads well down. The first attempt at coming alongside a catamaran just up stream is both down wind and down tide….followed by panicky shouts of “Woa!” and “Back back!”. He goes back and nearly takes out a pretty boat not far away from us. There is much revving of engine, lots of whining bow-thruster and some shouted directions from the catamaran. They wisely decide to put out every single fender they have (and probably wish they could have borrowed more). Eventually everything is secure, and peace descends once more on the river.

We make Mojitos with lemon juice and lime cordial which work surprisingly well, and dine on prawn risotto washed down with some Picpoul and the odd rum or two with chocolate. The sun sets on what must be one of the prettiest rivers in Devon.