Sometime over the winter my friend Alex mentioned to me that she and David had never been up the Thames to London by boat. So we decided to do that this summer. I had just time to get back home from SYH, do the washing, put together the July Newsletter and pack before we headed down to SYH for departure at the civilised time of 0915 on Monday 30 June. (I did select the date with civilised departures in mind).
We managed to sail for a while in the light southeasterlies but by the time we reached Clacton, in spite of having the tide with us, our speed over the ground had dropped to 4kt and the engine went on. After that it was a fairly uneventful passage across the Spitway and past Foulness where we started sailing again. With the wind blowing into the Thames, crossing the main shipping channels was rolly but manageable, and by 1810 we were tied up to the all-tide pontoon at Queenborough. We walked to the closest pub for a cool drink on a hot evening. 46 miles run.
Tuesday 1 July proved to be the hottest day of the year so far, reaching a high of around 34°, and in spite of factor 50, shady hats, lots of water and retreating into shade below, the heat was a bit of a trial for all of us. There's a lot to think about as you go up the Thames – being on the right side of the river, staying out of the way of absolutely everybody, listening to London VTS (the Port of London Authority) on the correct VHF channel and actually making sure we did what they said, avoiding huge container ships at Thames Gateway which is much busier than last time I passed, and generally being a small vessel on a big river.
In fact we had no problems, we called for permission to pass the Thames Barrier as instructed and went through the right opening, and by 1750 we were at Tower Bridge where, inevitably, there was a long wait to get into the lock at St Kats. (There always is). I had warned Alex and David ahead of time that it would be very unpleasantly busy and choppy while we waited, but they were still shocked by just how uncomfortable it was. "But I warned you!" I said. "We didn't believe you'" they chorused. We managed to pick up a waiting buoy and spent an entertaining half hour fending ourselves off a Dutch charter boat with Belgian crew which had a completely different swinging pattern from us.
Finally we went into the lock and into blessed shade, they raised the barrier so that the water also became smooth, I popped into the office to sort out our berth, and then we waited. And waited. It transpired that the steel road bridge on the inner side of the lock had expanded in the heat, and was stuck. Finally one chap came out with a hose and another with an enormous container of washing-up liquid, and after 20 minutes or so of spraying cold water and lubricating the join, and a few more tries, we finally reached our berth just after 1900. Another yacht somewhere on the Thames, which hadn't made it to our lock opening, apparently had to spend the night out on the open river, as the opening after ours never happened.
The joy was not over, however. The electricity was not working (nor was the wifi) despite the fact that we were paying around £100 a night for our berth and extra for the electricity on top of that. David and I eventually walked over to the office just before they closed to discuss options, and with the full length of our cable to a different connector we finally got it working. Then David discovered that his wallet was missing out of his back pocket and could not be found. We had walked through crowds of people drinking outside the many bars in St Kats and he was sure it had been stolen. To cut a long story short he spent most of the evening and much of the next day cancelling cards. On the Wednesday evening, Alex and David's son Henry came over to have dinner with us, and as I lifted the cushions in the cockpit I found David's wallet tucked underneath - far too late, or course.
42 very hot miles run.
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