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Where fin keels fear to tread Havengore Creek May 2008
As it turned out it took longer that I anticipated getting everything ready to leave, so you can imagine my horror when we reached Pete’s mooring only to find his boat gone. “Never mind” I told my crew, who didn’t seem as concerned as me anyway. “I know where were going” I said in a confident tone that wouldn’t convince a four year old. As we chugged out of the harbour I saw a sail in front near Garrison point. Could this be Pete? I opened the throttle and steadily headed towards the phantom boat. Unfortunately it turned out not to be Pete, and I let out a sigh thinking about the extra cup full of diesel I had just used up trying to catch up. This theme of catching up boats continued until we had passed the Isle of Grain. I had called up Pete both on the radio and on the phone but to no avail, when finally my phone rang and I almost drowned in relief when I heard Pete’s voice asking where I was. It turned out he was already by the Montgomery, so I was quite a distance behind. “Never mind” I repeated to my totally unconcerned crew “I know the way”! This was not the entire truth as the last time I had thrown the gauntlet down to Havengore creek it was coming from the other direction in a force eight, and things looked a whole lot different. I remembered the words of wisdom that had been passed on to me from the old man of the sea (John Drop). “Sail over the other side and follow the Essex coast along, you won’t feel the full force of the tide in shallow water”. Where would I be without those words of advice I thought. Though I don’t believe John meant me to go quite so close that I was beginning to think my depth gauge could only count to 1 and that was intermittent with 0. “What’s those stick things?” asked my Sister in Law. OH CR##P was the only thing going through my head as I dived down into the cabin to check my chart and position. “No problem” I assured no-one as I emerged from the cabin thinking how far I will have to go out to get around them. It turned out that they were the obstructions marked on the chart West of the man made island. As soon as I was clear of them I started heading back towards the shore. I knew I should have gone to the South Shoebury buoy and the followed the withies in, but Pete was still nowhere to be seen and the need to catch him up was growing. As we continued hugging the coastline with zero on the depth gauge we felt the first of the bumps that turn your blood stone cold. As the Maplin sands are so wide and pretty much flat it’s of little use turning the boat to face out. All you can do when you are as committed as I was then is keep going and hope you don’t stop. We saw the entry to Havengore and I started to think again
with a little reason. Right I thought, these withies where are they? But before
I could locate any I saw a sail heading towards the bridge. Again reason was
ripped from the logical part of my mind as I imagined Pete merrily sailing
through the bridge. Opening up the throttle once again I pushed the bow towards
the mouth knowing that the withies were defiantly on the east side. So throwing
caution to the wind I skipped and bumped over the final half mile until one
again the depth sounder boosted my hopes by managing to count to one again.
We stayed in Burnham over night and set off the following day catching the tide through Havengore creek once again. This time I followed Pete all the way out. The crew were feeling much better following Pete, though I can’t imagine why. Even the cat came out on deck to check the scenery out. Pete did ground momentarily but the tide was still coming in at that time, and we were soon on our way. Once clear of the Maplin sands I finally got to turn the engine off and sail home.
Written by Eddie Johnson
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Last modified: August 28, 2008 Havengore Cruise
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It was a beautiful sunny Bank holiday Friday, and I had
managed to get my wife, my Sister in law and the cat onboard along with enough
provisions to keep us going to Madera. I was beginning to wonder where Pete was
when my Phone rang. “Hi” said Pete “I’m running a little late. Where are you?” I
told him I had just got on board and as my boat is slower I would set off and he
would be able to catch me up. “Ok said Pete sees you later”. 
I phoned up the bridge controller who was a very nice
eager to please chap. (I don’t think he gets out much) Soon the bridge started
to lift and I pushed the bow through the open bridge and opened up the throttle.
Pete must be waiting for us I thought as the sail in front was just around the
bend to the starboard. Oh no
Without a doubt it was a great weekend, and has only
fuelled my desire to once again throw the gauntlet down and go where all fin
keels fear to tread. Havengore creek.