Netherlands Trip - Tollesbury      29th May:

    In customary fashion, we planned our annual sail across to Holland, departing around the start of June. Recent weather had been spectacular, with temperatures reaching the 30s during the end of May. It had been decades since such May temperatures had been recorded. However, Sod's Law was rearing its ugly head, and high winds plus thunderstorms were forecast for the first week of June over the North Sea. Deja vue!! It was a no-brainer really, just shift our departure date a few days earlier to avoid the deluge.
    By 11:15 we were slipping our lines and waving farewell to Meryl and another sailor, Mick, who was a tad envious of our trip.

Entering the South Channel

    With not a breath of wind, the water was flat. Oystercatchers, normally bursting with energy and singing the joys of life, were rather subdued in this languid environment. We chugged down the South Channel enveloped by sunlight and humanity. A group of dinghies were out on the water, full of youngsters out training from the Fellowship Afloat mother ship. Their sails hung limp, they were going nowhere fast. Other vessels motored out on the expanse of the Blackwater Estuary, and a scattering of fishing boats sat motionless under the oppressive heat.
    We skirted Mersea Island, and as we motored past Clacton, Rex created a new passage plan. It was basically a variation of an earlier version with a few adjustments taking us east of the Sunk, thus shaving off a few miles. The skies now became cloudy, but the heat and humidity persisted.
    When we were due east of Sizewell, just a smudge on the horizon, the cranes at Felixstowe docks were still visible 19 miles away. The sky was now clearing, the temperature dropping, and Rex was enthusiastically spotting porpoises.
    During the journey up the coast, we discussed how to put the world to rights, and caught up on news. I was surprised to learn that our mutual friend, Alan Wison, was considering selling his boat, Kiitaja, a Nauticat 33. We had both sailed thousands of miles on the vessel, and knew it was Alan's pride and joy. But we also knew that Alan was not enjoying good health and perhaps it was becoming too much for him to handle.
    Windfarm after windfarm lazily drifted by, their blades hardly moving in the still airs.
    During the afternoon we kept receiving messages via VHF Ch. 16, informing that a controlled detonation of underwater ordnance would be taking place at a defined set of coordinates at 19:00. All vessels would be required to give the location a wide berth of at least one nautical mile. By 18:00 we spotted the patrol vessel associated with the controlled detonation. It appeared we would be a safe distance from the explosion.
    Whilst all this was going on, we were also distracted by a flotilla of floating, white, plastic barrels moving with the tide. The alarming thing was we spotted one pair tethered by a rope between them, which would be a severe issue if we caught that in our propellor. But the worst was to come, a pair of barrels tethered together by a rope, but also anchored to the sea bed by another rope, the tide sluicing around it. We took a note of its location and made a mental note to keep well clear of it on our return journey.
    At 19:00 I was out on deck, camera in hand ready to capture the event, a muffled explosion followed by a mountain of water shooting into the air. I was disappointed, we neither heard nor saw anything of the event.
    Not to worry, we enjoyed a superb spaghetti bolognese that Meryl had cooked for us.

Beautiful Peaceful Sunset

    We watched a beautiful sunset, then Rex took to his bunk while I took charge of the first watch. Darkness descended as we passed a colossal windfarm on our port side. It seemed as if all the ships in the North Sea were having to skirt the southern flank of the windfarm, as were we. Cargo vessels, tankers and a couple of cruise ships swept around this southern outpost. Lightening flashes to our starboard indicated Belgium must be under siege.
    But there was an element of charm. A British yacht, Mixed Emotions, silently crept out of the darkness and passed us 0.8nm to our starboard, shortly followed by a Dutch yacht, Witte Waater, 0.3nm to our port side, both heading along the course we had just traversed. Ships that pass in the night.
    Rex missed all the fun, but took over shortly after midnight.