Bold as Brass

On a bright late October day we decided to set out with Hoogtij once more to hone our new found confidence on our Norfolk rivers. We chose our moment with the tide, to turn on a bow line from our home mooring, just as we had done previously. Only this time, Oh my, what a fail! Hoogtij started a beautiful turn, all going well, until I realised my stupid mistake! As I allowed the rope to slip off the post to be retrieved, I saw that I had left a knot at the end! I watched helplessly as the knot caught against the post and Hoogtij was tethered, turning further round and heading for a slow side on collision with a gorgeous wooden Norfolk yacht! All I could do was shout for help! As fortune would have it, a young man was on the afore-mentioned yacht. He poked his head out, calmly ascertained the situation, leapt onto the pontoon and loosed the rope! Phew! He then proceeded to push us away from his shiny boat as we came within a foot of it, and then we were free and Phil slowly eased Hoogtij’s backside away! I will never do that again!

As the rivers were quieter this time of year, we were confident we could reach new places we hadn’t explored before. With that in mind we headed for Cantley, not the beast of a belching factory but the pub The Reedcutters Arms for lunch. It seemed we had the Waveney and the Yare to ourselves, rarely spotting another boat. The reeds had all changed colour to a light autumn brown. All was quiet, only our engine to disturb nature’s peace as we ploughed through the water. Usually on these adventures we stop at Berney mill allowing time for the tide to change, but not this time. We just kept going with the tide behind us, heading through Reedham and its bridge. The tide was increasing our speed, at once point to 7.3 knots, quite a dash! As we passed Polkey mill, I rang ahead to the bridge to check the clearance – it was 3.25m and tide still coming in. It was going to be tight so just around the corner we requested it to be opened for us. Luckily it already was and we had 20 mins before it was due to be closed again for a train. Another hour and we came to Cantley, the whole mooring empty! We went past and then turned into the tide and moored up at the furthest point from the pub.

We had heard that the Reedcutters Arms had a formidable selection of ciders, and it was true! It seems to be near impossible to find anything but the ubiquitous Aspalls in Norfolk, so this made a refreshing change. This was one of those friendly pubs that clearly hasn’t changed for a good few decades. After lunch we set off for our final destination, Brammerton Common. The sky became menacing, dark and rain began to pummel the steel roof. We only have windscreen wipers on two wheelhouse windows, there are five windows! The central window that we mainly use to keep on eye on our progress, we opened to be able to see where we were going!

Brammerton Common moorings was mostly void of boats, so Hoogtij sidled into a generous space for the night. Is it some sort of irony that whenever we are focused on mooring up and I am concentrating on my rope technique and securing Hoogtij, a passerby has to stop and start a conversation? We had left Cantley promptly after lunch as we were conscious of the short day before darkness. Zeeshan hopped out to explore, having not had much opportunity at Cantley, the long wet grass soon made one soggy moggy, but the rain had stopped for our arrival so we felt quite happy with the days cruise.

Before it was light the next morning, I was letting Zeeshan out for his morning ablutions when I noticed some unusual wildlife on the river. There were women in swimming costumes with bright orange floats dipping into the water! One was being harassed by a hungry swan who was preventing her from entering the water. Almost November, I shuddered at the thought of that cold dark water!

At 10am we turned on the mooring to head back to base for the night. We looked for somewhere new to pause for lunch, the day was bright and we needed the tide to change before arriving at St Olaves. At midday we came to Hardley Mill with its floating pontoon. The mill is beautifully restored, we had noticed it on a previous occasion. The plastic pontoon with its tiny metal cleats was not such a draw but we were confident we could handle a challenge! There was a boat moored up so we had to be on top of our game here as the space was not big. Phil brought Hoogtij alongside slowly but when I had my chance to throw a rope I just couldn’t seem to catch this tiny cleat. I shook my head at the captain to say I hadn’t hooked it. We were closing in on the boat in front, I tried again, it was a tenuous catch but I managed to make it hold while I secured another rope and hopping off I could force our chunky rope to sit better over the cleats. We made it, that was a relief and quite a challenge! The boat in front magically disappeared as boats often seem to do when they see a big boat like us bearing down on them.

From the pontoon there is a good walkway up to the bank and beyond is a pleasant picnic area overlooked by the mill. There are footpaths along the bank surrounding quiet farmland. It would be a great secluded spot for another night.

We stayed an hour before casting off for the final leg of the journey. It was just as tricky getting the ropes off those tiny horrid cleats and the wind was gusting sharply in such a way as to hold us onto the mooring. We got going and I took the helm for a while. We were feeling so relaxed now, so confident in our abilities, understanding how we worked as a team and how Hoogtij reacted in different situations. This next photo really showed how far we had come in just a few adventures….

We passed the Reedham ferry, timing our crossing with its stop on one side of the river. I rang the bridge ahead to find it was just opening – good timing! Smoothly and in no time we reached Breydon water, turned sharply into the Waverney and almost there! To our surprise, Zeeshan emerged from under the sofa and sat in the wheelhouse with us. He had not been so relaxed since the journey from Essex when he was traumatised by a violent bow wave. Since then he always hid under the sofa when the engine purred into action. Phil did a perfect approach to our mooring, I casually threw my ropes and eased the old girl into our usual position – measured by a coiled rope we call a mat. Sadly a short adventure, mainly due to our lack of solar power and need for more electric at this time of year. Zeeshan leapt off to go explore his usual haunts and we plugged back into shore power and put the kettle on… Short but sweet and bold as brass!