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On Friday evening the heroes of this tale pootled down the Orwell to find a mooring buoy opposite Levington for a welcome G&T followed by dinner. Come the morning, once bacon and scambled eggs were out of the way, they sailed off the buoy and headed for the Walton Backwaters with hopes of seeing some seals. However, halfway there it was decided that the winds were simply too lovely to waste, and so they bore away and hoisted the kite, making all haste for Roughs Tower, otherwise known as the Principality of Sealand.

Passing as close as they dared, the crew was treated to an appearance by Prince Roy himself who gave them a royal wave as they stuffed their mouths with pizza. However, minds were soon distracted as decreasing winds led to the spinnaker becoming wrapped around the forestay. Somehow, after much hard work and dozens of circles made in the water these valiant sailors got it down and hoisted a less exhausting sail before beginning the approach to the mouth of the Ore, practising tacks and gybes on deck and pot-balancing and vegetable-catching in the saloon.

Discovering that the buoys marking the entrance channel were missing, Kestrel had an exciting time feeling her way in with the aid of the GPS and a pilotage map. Eventually everyone was in the river proper and flying along on the rising tide towards the Jolly Sailor pub with dinner bubbling away below.

As many who have visited the Ore will know it isn't possible to leave Kestrel moored ashore and one must stay on a mooring buoy. Anticipating this our intrepid crew brought a tender that didn't leak air (thanks Tom!) and found suitable paddles in the form of a washboard and a floorboard. As the tender fought the tide on the first ferrying trip ashore, Tristan had the fortunate idea of taking the long tow rope to make ferrying people back a little easier -- more of this anon.

Of course large quantities of Adnams ale were drunk, first in the Jolly Sailor then in a pub whose name shall forever be lost in the mists of eternity (ahem). The crew made a happy and noisy return to the tender, clutching a wine bottle full of lemonade, to find a very rapid tide sweeping down the river.

They were naturally undeterred and attached the line before sending Dave and Alex out into the night. Things went well at first, but as the stronger stream in the centre of the river was reached our twosome found themselves being swept well out of reach of Kestrel and to their despair were towed ignominiously back to shore. An adjustment was made to the plan, and on the second attempt they headed upstream as far as possible -- this time the line became wrapped around a mooring buoy and the attempt was aborted early.

It was clear that a plan of great cunning was needed, and so a careful course was plotted between the buoys and then on to Kestrel's bow -- a plan so cunning you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel, but though it was valiantly executed it was by now clear that the tide was just too strong for our gallant team as they fell a metre short.

Clearly more horsepower was required in the tender, so, once the skipper had been restrained from swimming, the local fishing boats and dinghys were stripped of their equipment such that the tender was now armed with four paddles and associated paddlers. This time they made it with (relative) ease and with the line affixed the relieved crew were soon towed across and Dave and Alex could change out of their sodden clothes.

Enjoy some pictures below:

Naturally the following day saw a lot of sore heads and so inevitably once the sea was reached quite a few fish were fed, but some good sailing was had by most, in between very lethargic headsail changes! Some delicious sausages rounded off what was no doubt a memorable trip!

Thank you to the whole crew for making it a great weekend, and to Tom Playford and Dong Lu in particular for the photos.