Conyer Creek is delightful place, with a sleepy boaty feel, somewhere you could go to relax and potter about or enjoy working on your boat for the day. I got ready in front of F76, a sailing fishing smack, the owners looking at me with discrete glances as they were working on the deck.
Drifting out lazily down the creek I could see more picturesque boats, including some houseboats.
As I went round a bend, there were some teenagers swimming in the middle by their dinghy, so I slowed to avoid hitting them with my oars.
I was out of the creek at last and in the middle of the Swale, at high tide feeling like a large estuary. The wind was south west, against me. In the distance was a Wanderer dinghy sailing up the Swale in the same direction and I kept up with them by rowing briskly.
It was taking a long time to get to the Kingsferry bridge and the tide was turning. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a Thames barge motor sailing down towards me, on collision course, but she skirted round me.
It was Greta, a Thames barge from Whitstable. Later on I read that it was built in the 19th Century on the East Coast. In the second world war it moved ammunition from a depot near Upnor in the Medway Estuary to naval vessels anchored in the Thames Estuary. Greta also took part in the evacuation of British soldiers at Dunkirk in 1940 and is the oldest active ‘Dunkirk’ little ship.
Later on I passed the Wanderer, as it had anchored near the shore, the couple having a picnic ashore. I would have liked to have joined them because they had an excellent landing place with a small hill to sit on, but I didn’t want to disturb their peace.
Up the Swale I started to pass the industrial bits.
The tide turned heavily against me and I had to row hard against the ebb. At the Kingsferry bridge I ate briefly, and turned round, speeding up to 4 knots, with the with the wind and tide behind me. A jet ski was racing around at high speed.
I turned back and rowed a mile downstream. A beautiful wooden Dutch sloop passed me and waved.
I was soon back in Conyer Creek, at the slipway. But I realised I had left it too late, since the creek was just a stream and I was at the bottom of the slipway in the mud. I beached PicoMicroYacht and clambered up the muddy slipway with just enough grip to stop falling over. To lighten things, I carried all the boat bits back to the car. I then pushed the trolley back down through the mud and heaved the PicoMicroYacht on to it. By joining up some ropes, I was able to attach it to the car and pull PicoMicroYacht out of the mud from a distance.
Everything was covered in mud and all I had was a milk carton to ladle water.
But the F76 owners, who had been discrete previously, came to my rescue and told me about a hose that was by another boat. 'It belongs to Fred ..... we’ll take the blame if they object. It’s a bit painful to watch you using that milk carton.’
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