Ramsgate - 11/04/2001 & Suffolk - 20/08/2002

Well, it was spring again, and in the spring this old geezer's thoughts lightly turned to sailing . . .

As those who followed summer 2000's entertainment via this excellent Kahawi site will know, I meandered around the East Coast, the Channel ports and northern bits of the French canals - the last of which I found pretty painful and boring as a single-hander. Incidentally, I was re-assured by a surprising number of emails to know that I am not the only person to get completely fed-up with those waterways; having someone to go with would probably have made all the difference.

It's taken me a long time to get around to sitting down and writing this page up properly, mainly because my 2001 could be described as, at the very least, a rather odd year.

I sold Pamela Jane at the end of 2000, while she was in Ramsgate Harbour. I'd got myself a job in a local call centre, belonging to an internet service/telecoms provider called World Online - since taken over by Tiscali. By a combination of circumstances, I made a few good friends there, found a flat for the winter, a lady-friend to go around with, and even bought a little car for easy transport.

Dave's handbuilt marina!

I quite enjoyed that winter of 2000; in an odd way, I liked the job - it had plenty of people contact, at arms length, if you like, and I found Ramsgate a very enjoyable little place. During the winter, it certainly felt a bit rundown and seedy, but living there was interesting and fun.

Among the friends I made over the seven months I was in town was the owner of a nice 31 foot motorsailer. It was a big boat, with a large wheelhouse and plenty of space down below, and the owner wanted to take her to Spain or the Balearics permanently.

We got on well, and I thought it would be good to offer to help him with the trip; I gave notice to my bosses to leave at the end of April - then, after I'd handed in the letter, the firm announced that we were all going to be redundant at the end of May!

I took it on the chin, braved it out, and swallowed my fed-up feelings with losing some £3000 in an across-the-board redundancy payment. What else could I do?

The grubby canal de Calais.

My new skipper and I knew each other tolerably well, I thought. I offered a few thoughts, some of which were taken seriously, but not very, and others completely ignored. For instance, the cooling water strainer for the engine lacked a proper filter and while this wasn't a problem in UK coastal waters, it later became a pain in more polluted and rubbish-laden areas. Some serious electrical work was only started at the last minute, and we ultimately departed with a few items not working properly.

A couple of weeks before departure, we took a trip up the Thames, through thick fog, which demonstrated that the radar was excellent, and then returned through average becoming poor weather.

Later experience confirmed that while we got on well enough in ordinary circumstances, we couldn't really manage when any pressure came to bear. I try to remain well controlled, and avoid raised voices, while he started to shout and yell, which I really couldn't handle. I have no doubt that he found me equally awkward or whatever, but one way or another, we started then to drive each other around the bend.

We left Ramsgate on a dull, grey day, and made an easy passage down to Dover, where we topped up with diesel, and continued over the Channel to Boulogne, where we were delayed by a gale for a couple of days.

A much cleaner and nicer bit of the canal de Calais.

We then went down to Dieppe, a long hop, and made 2 shorter steps to Fecamp and then Le Harve. It had taken us a couple of weeks to get there, due mainly to weather, and I think we were getting increasingly on each other nerves. I think that I am a born tourist, while the owner just wanted to get on. Having done a lot of sea miles on my own, I had my own set of ideas, too - like taking a look at things before taking a decision. I liked to set-up my fenders and warps before taking a look at potential berths, if there is a choice - in this boat, we were heading into the nearest berth, regardless of how appropriate it was, or how easy it would be to get in or out of, even before I'd finished making the lines ready.

The Fontinette boatlift from downstream

In Le Harve, I said, "How about going up the Seine and through to the Med that way" ? It seemed like a good idea to both of us, with the poor weather continuing, and so we waited a couple of days to get the mast down, and then kicked off up the mighty Seine - what a wonderful river it is, compared to the muddy lower reaches of the Thames.

Once you get above the estuary, the sides of the river close in, and you motor along delightful looking reaches with high ridges approaching and falling away on either side. The vegetation was beautifully verdant, sun shone, and we made good time with the flood (which actually only reduced the rivers flow to something you could actually make headway against, after that rainy winter) to a spot about half-way to Rouen, where we found a couple of vacant mooring buoys, in deep water close to the starboard bank. The river was really quite narrow here, and the outpouring flow combined with the wash of the surprising large ships which pass by heading to or returning from Rouen, made for a bumpy evening and night.

Seine coasters creep up astern without too much warning.

The next day took us to Rouen, where we spent a couple of days. Here I managed to take a good stroll or two about this attractive city - on my own, as the skipper had been everywhere, done everything, and didn't want to know. He must have been fed-up waiting for the day when the now very limited tide would let us get upstream to the first lock.

We left Rouen and worked up our way up the Seine, reaching Paris after three further days. We spent a single night in the Paris Arsenal yacht harbour, then rushed out to plug on toward the south. I was very fed-up by now, getting shouted at every day when the skipper thought that something wasn't exactly what he thought it should be, despite the reality of the situation I may have been looking at. I found it confidence-sapping, at the least; I doubted my own ability to carry things out properly, and more or less stopped trying to do a good job as crew.

Once above Paris, the Seine becomes a much more leisurely river, with wonderfully wooded banks in parts, georgeous houses running down to the river's edge, and some delightful little mooring spots, if you are able to stop where you choose! Once into the canals themselves, and away from the busy river traffic, it is like stepping back a hundred years in time.

Montargis - a wonderful spot for a little R & R

Without going into too many details, I got shouted at once too often, and left the ship at a village a few miles south of Montargis, a town about 60km south of Paris as the crow flies, but a lot further by river and canal. It was an acrimonious moment. I found the local taxi firm through the good offices of the lady in the local boulangier, and then found a hotel close by Montargis station, where I stayed for a couple of nights. If you happen to be in the locality, I recommend Montargis to you for a rest day. It has a lovely "fishermens" quarter, with small canals between the old houses, and is a very restful, calm little town.

I was quite sad about ending this particular trip there, without going all the way south, but I'm not sure that carrying the journey through to the bitter end would have been any good either.

More Montargis!

I let the train take the strain to Paris, where I spent a week snuggled-down in a rather scruffy but cheerfully cheap hotel very close to the Gare du Nord, from which I ultimately departed for Calais and England. Strolling about in those streets and boulevards certainly does something for me, and watching the hordes of Parisians, tourists and assorted humanity mill about is quite possibly the finest cabaret devised, ever!

I had a few days with my sister and her partner, then felt that the stress of the month's boating about on the Colvic left me deserving a decent holiday. A coach to Dover, ferry to Calais again, various low-speed and TGV trains south, nights in more interesting and entertaining hotels, and after ten days I was comfortably settled in a little Spanish-style Residencia at the top of the old town at Benidorm, where I spent a month before coming back to the UK at the end of July.

I found a job reasonably easily, because I felt again that I (a) needed the money, and (b) needed to actually do something useful. I'm not sure if this is an identifiable character defect, but I do feel the need to contribute something to life. After 6 months at work, at Christmas 2001, I got a little promotion, which I think will enable me to take another 6 or 9 months off in 2003, so that is my new intention now. I've now started looking for a new boat this autumn . . . but I won't be making my plans too set in cement !

I've also got a lady-friend who wants to travel a bit with me, which may help me to get a bit more stability into my life, although I'm not taking any bets about that! She does mean that I'm looking for a boat with at least reasonably comfortable accomodation, rather than some unsuitable tub which manages to float on a good day!

If you want a moral to end this part of my tale, here is a suggestion for you: don't make too many wonderful plans. Life changes, situations alter, and if you don't get to do exactly what you want, make sure you do enjoy what you eventually end-up doing!

I wish you all you wish yourselves!

© CRB Ltd. Updated - Monday, 07 Sep 2020