Netherlands/Germany Trip - Bradwell      18th June:

    I picked up the watch again at 03:15. For me, this is always the best watch. I can observe the sky slowly transform to a steely blue, then over an age shift to a pale pink, and gradually move through a range of yellows and oranges until a glowing red sun pops its head up to say hello. Multiple cargo, tanker, passenger ferry and cruise ships floated silently past through the watch. Progress was slow since we were fighting against an ebbing tide. The Outer Gabbard and Galloper windfarms slid by on our port side, an indication that we were not far from the East Anglian Coast. As Sizewell power station came into view at 08:30, Rex took over the watch.

Approaching Felixstowe

Storm Approaching Bradwell

    By the time I arose at 11:30, we were approaching Felixstowe. Rex had been tuned into a rescue operation on the Whiting Bank just off Aldeburgh. A Dutch yacht had run aground. We weaved our way through a maze of lobster pot floats. A series of deep booms prompted us that we were in earshot of the Foulness Military shooting range.
    The sky was now murky with no discernible join between grey sea and sky. Warm, humid air forewarned of thunderstorms to come. As we entered the Blackwater Estuary, a fine drizzle began to fall. A few fishing boats were out on the water, but very few yachts - a potent of bad weather to come. We would not be able to berth into the saltings until high water, around 2am the following morning, and after a 28 hour North Sea crossing we preferred to spend a comfortable night in Bradwell Marina and sail around to the saltings in daylight.
    A vicious ebbing tide slowed our progress to a snail's pace as we motored up the estuary, and it seemed to take an eternity to get to Bradwell marina. Two small dinghies twisted and turned at the entrance to the marina, each full of youngsters receiving their training.
    The harbour master's office was occupied by a bespectacled, middle-aged lady who exuded enthusiasm. "Your boat is named Duonita. That's an unusual name. There used to be a boat of that name kept here," she chirped. The boat had actually been berthed here by one if its previous owners before being moved to Burham-on-Crouch. Then Rex moved it to Tollesbury when he bought it.
    In the corner of the office an old chap wearing a weather worn face topped by a beret, lounged in front of a table. He piped up with a broad, country accent, "Been rough today?" "No, we crossed the North Sea and there were some calm patches." "Ooh, aarh, where you bin?" he asked with a toothless grin. "We left Amsterdam yesterday morning at 09:15, and apart from the sea lock at Ijmuiden, it has been non-stop all the way." "You got one of them 90 mph boats?" he enquired. "No, 5.5 knots," I replied. "Amsterdam eh, I hear there's them red light districts there," he giggled. "What are they?" I asked, "That's news to me, and why are you turning red?" I added. The old man and woman laughed, and I could hear them cackling as I descended the spiral staircase.
    We dined in the Green Man in the village in the evening; it was a pleasure to drink bitter ale again. The threatening thunder, lightning and rain arrived in earnest through the late evening.