I bought my boat in November 2007 and was immediately eager to get it home. It is a Seamaster 23, 23 feet long and 8 foot wide. All I had to do was bring it back from North Fambridge. My first attempt was cancelled due to bad weather, so when the next launch date approached I was determined to take it regardless.

 On 16^th December John met up with me outside the yacht club and Ann drove us to the boat. The weather prediction was predictably poor but I had lost all confidence in the BBC weather forecast and decided to throw caution to the wind.

 When we arrived the boat was still in the yard awaiting launching and the weather was generally cold, windy but sunny. Ann said her farewells and drove back leaving John and myself waiting for the big launch.

 Eventually the time came and the boat was carried down the launch slope by a large cradle type boat hoist. As soon as the slings were removed we started the engine and started to negotiate out way out. The plan was to fill up with diesel before leaving the marina, but John suggested we get to Burnhan marina and fill up there.

 We unfurled the genoa and headed down stream, the boat seemed to handle well and it didn’t take long to get to Burnham. On entering the marina we made our way straight to the refuelling station, and the harbour master let us tie up just in front of the fuelling station for the night.

 After filling up and making the boat fast we had a stroll around Burnham, though at this time of year it isn’t a buzzing metropolis. By the time we returned the wind had started to freshen up a bit and I was becoming a bit concerned about the trip home.

 Later on that evening Ann returned with Steve who was going to make up the rest of my crew, and after having something to eat Ann left and drove home.

 That night the wind intensified into a full storm, and I found myself getting up all through the night to check the ropes and fenders.

 The following morning was no better and john announced that this was the first time in thirty years that he had witnessed a force ten in a marina.

We had breakfast and visited the amenity block, but despite the time this all took the weather was not letting up.

“I don’t think it’s worth trying” announced John, “It is much too bad to go”! Steve agreed with John and the suggestion to abandon the boat and return the following week was mentioned more than once. I called Ann and explained the situation, and the costs this would incur. Ann told me to find out how much it would cost to get the boat taken back out of the water, with the idea that I could wait until the beginning of the next season to take the boat home.

 I had other plans. There was no way after all this that I was leaving the boat. So I announced to John and Steve that everyone should get off the boat as I was going anyway. It was about now that I was given a massive stroke of luck. The train station had caught fire and was not going to be back in service for sometime.

 John suggested that as we were stuck here anyway we might as well take the boat out and see what it was like in the river. So after paying my fees and asking the harbour master to keep a berth for us we headed out. We were already an hour late and as we entered the river we were met by four foot rollers. We headed down river towards Havengore creek with the wind behind us; it looked quite pleasant in the direction we were going. It was only when I looked behind I realised what I had just let us all in for.

 As we entered Havengore creek the plan changed. The plan now was to get as far as we can until we run aground then anchor up and wait for the next tide. This was the first time John and Steve had gone through Havengore creek and it had been about thirty years since I last did it, so none of us were familiar with the area. John had printed out some pictures from the internet but they were as much use as a chocolate exhaust pipe.

 We furled the genoa and continued under the power of the engine. The depth gauges display started to read an ever reducing figure until it was hovering at just over a metre. At one point it seemed that John would have take on the role of Humprey Bogart in The African Queen, by pulling the boat though what looked like overgrown swamp rather than a creek. However before this situation developed we turned around to find another route that might have more water.

 As we got closer the bridge I called the bridge keeper and asked if the bridge could be lifted, I also asked how much water there was below the bridge. He was very friendly and told us that there was no problem with the bridge opening and that there was a metre of water below the bridge.

We were still about thirty minutes away and it was looking doubtful that we would make it. But by this time we had little choice but to continue with our revised plan. As we approached the bridge I called the keeper once again to confirm the bridge lift and the depth of water. The bridge keeper told us that he would raise the bridge shortly and that there was still a metre of water below the bridge.

 Believing that even if we did make the bridge we would soon run aground I called the MOD radar officer and asked permission to anchor south of the bridge if we ran aground. He agreed, and as we waited not much traffic used the bridge apart from an ambulance which crossed the bridge with its lights flashing. A little while later it arrived back at the bridge still with its lights flashing, however the bridge had started to lift and I felt guilty that someone was in the back of the ambulance waiting for me to go through.

 Once through the bridge we headed straight out, however it wasn’t long before the depth sounder started to seriously concern us. At one point it dropped down to 0.9 of a metre and I got halfway through the sentence “I draw 0.9 of a metre” when we felt the unmistakable shudders as the keels started hitting the mud. The wind was still blowing a good eight and this resulted in us touching bottom frequently as every large wave is followed by a very large hole. When you haven’t got much water under you large holes are not what you want.

 It wasn’t until John spotted the withies and we followed them out that the depth gauge showed a reassuring depth of 1.2 metres. However the 1.2 metres stayed transfixed on the screen for 2 miles. The wind and tide were against us and weather though sunny was defiantly cold. As we proceeded towards the familiar sight of the Isle of Grain chimney we were all getting rather wet. We didn’t know at the time but the wind was so strong that both the Dartford and Swale crossings were closed.

 We arrived back at Queenborough without any further problems, and though I would not normally venture out in that type of weather it was reassuring to know that the boat could handle bad weather well. It might only be a small boat, but I feel very safe on it knowing that it could deal with worse weather than I ever could.

 John has since suggested that we should make it a yearly event with a December Burnham rally. (Tempting but short of a heat wave, probably not)

 Written By Eddie Johnson

Last modified: August 28, 2008 Eddie’s boat the voyage home

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