Forgive me Neptune, for I have sinned

 Forgive me King Neptune, for I have sinned. I did hire a motorboat when out on the broads!

We have been touring Norfolk and Suffolk in our motorhome Bryony. It has been our longest trip to date and we have spent a few days around Hickling Green and Hickling Broad. Most of the time we have been cycling but today we felt somewhat sore (having cycled over 150 miles in seven days) and so opted for a day on the water. 

SWMBO wasn't confident about hiring a day dinghy and when i saw what was on offer, neither was I to be fair. The little boats were barely water-worthy! So, we opted for an old motorboat with a diesel inboard engine. Hired from Whispering Boats at Hickling Green, we got a white painted plywood hulled boat with varnish rails and coamings. A bit dilapidated, with a patched hole in one corner, the varnish was peel in places and the screws rusting badly. The bow painter was blue knotted polypropylene string; the stern warps black 12mm plaited rope. It wasn't neglect but it was in need of some TLC. But then when people see Arwen they say the same thing, so who am I to judge?

Our intention was to spend four hours gently motoring across Hickling Broad and up through the cutaways into Horsey Mere before going up the river to Horsey Mill for a coffee and cake at the National Trust owned windmill. If there was time we would then head back down for a quick tour of Heigham Sound. 

The Whispering Boats yard is traditional; a few staithes with some permanent liveaboard boats alongside; some boats out of the water on hard standings; a narrow gently sloping ramp and a large corrugated boat building shed. Clean and organised it has an air of old fashioned competency about it; a place where apprentices once learned their craft from master boatbuilders. But now, trade isn't what it used to be. 

After a quick briefing, a warning about getting too close to the reed bed margins (clog the prop) and 'watch out for traditional sail boats coming around the bends' we were duly shown to our boat and left to our own devices. The first problem, how do you turn an 18' motor launch 90 degrees out of its stern to mooring in a staithe canal channel which is only 4' wider than the boat length; and with two other launches of identical dimensions moored gunwale to gunwale either side of you!

I should at this point, just in case you were all saying 'easy'......tell you that the steering was a steering wheel and then a wire and pulley affair to the rudder. A system so stiff, you physically had to yank the wheel one way or another. Think a steering wheel on a tank - non power assisted! 

Then throw in a throttle which was at best temperamental; stiff, unruly, prone to slipping and not holding its position! Truly hilarious. The only positive was the engine. Its regular chug chug beat and tempo just spoke reliability, trustworthiness, integrity. 

It took ten minutes to work out how to caress the throttle; a further ten minutes on how much effort to put into turning the wheel one way or the other to get some form of turn in the bow. Subtle steering it was not! Gauging speed wasn't an issue! There was slow, dead slow and stop!

Gently chugging out of the narrow yard entrance canal past moored boats of all descriptions and sizes, we entered between the first of over forty 12' tall square posts that marked the centre of the broad. Depth gauges on some of the posts suggested we had around 8' under us at the centre of the broad. With gentle breezes bow on, I was able to stand upright leaning on the top of the windshield with left hand on the steering wheel and right foot nudging the throttle down or up as required. A rather cavalier approach I am sure but given we had the whole broad to ourselves, I wasn't unduly worried. We were only doing 3 mph max. 

We passed flocks of swans cleaning themselves and shooing their broods of cygnets out of the way. Marsh harriers swooped above the reeds and out in the distance in a secluded corner of the broad, inaccessible to our boat an enormous bird of prey flew above the water in lazy circles. Was it an Osprey? It looked like one from a distance! 

At the yellow and black marker post we turned to port and started up the narrow channels that ran between marsh and reed bed islands. The channel was barely 20' wide and we were hemmed in by thick tall green reeds. Our horizon was those reeds punctuated by the odd oak tree or distant windmill. A closed world, a fascinating world, a gentle world.

Time slowed down, it practically stood still. The sun shone; the breeze whispered through the reeds. Reed buntings provided a sound track. A blue damselfly landed on my hand and stayed with me for twenty minutes up river. Ahead, huge dragonflies, the 'Gazelle helicopters' of the insect world buzzed and darted frantically across the water, skimming low and evading the sudden rises of Chub and Roach. Past motionless herons, their faces downward, peering in to the dark waters, waiting to rapier any small unsuspecting fish, we chugged along, our soundscape being enhanced by the repeated call of a distant cuckoo. 

You know when sail boats are approaching. You can see the tips of their masts and pennants streaming out at mastheads. Some are motoring, their masts devoid of sail. But then there are boats that are sailing, with acres of tan, cream or white sail clothing billowing in the breeze. Around the corners they creep, their booms invariably hung out over mid channel. In such circumstances, I found the easiest thing to do was to wait, throttle into neutral and then judicious use of forward, neutral and reverse gears to hold station as close to the reed margins as I dare, allowing them sufficient room to drift by silently. 

There is a grace and beauty to the traditional broad cruisers with their cream hulls and varnished topsides. You could get a suntan just from the reflection in that varnish work. 

Arriving at Horsey Mill staithe is tricky. Along the starboard side of the channel are private moorings. On the port side public tie up points. The channel between the moored boats either side is around 10' in width. The channel is a dead end with a right angled bend just before the mill. And, it is in the full glare of the public gaze, for this is a popular attraction. There is no place to hide. 

It is grown up pants time! You have to moor into the wind or the river flow, whichever is stronger. To try and moor going downwind or downflow is to invite disaster.  Today, I have to turn the boat in the channel for the wind has shifted to come from astern and its picked up! There is a 10' long gap between boats on each side. That is my turning point! 

Now, I do have Level 2 powerboat qualifications but frankly they are of bog all use here. It is an inboard with a temperamental throttle and antique steering system. The boss makes encouraging 'you've got this' noises. Her death grip hold on the coaming says it all really. She of little faith! 😆 

Its like doing a three point turn in a car only you are using a balance of reverse, forward and neutral in quick succession and, of course, you are turning the wheel counterintuitively at the same time as engaging reverse. It sounds more complicated than it is but unbelievably, and I do still have to pinch myself as I remember this, I actually did it. I turned a boat with only 1' surplus distance at each end of it and then bought it alongside a staithe without even bumping it; to a complete stop alongside a mooring ring. 

And I got a round of applause from some passerby's, walkers, who told me they had seen some horrendous foul ups on their walks along the various river channels. 

I didn't quite bow but internally I was jumping for joy. Boom, mic drop! 

Five minutes later and two experienced sailors managed to wedge their 20' cruiser with bow sprit in that right angled bend. I did get there before the impending disaster happened; I did plea with them to throw me a stern line so I could slow the boat and spin the stern around quickly. But they listened not and I was left to try and free their bowsprit, the bow sprit tackle and various other bits and pieces from the quayside ladder. The wire bobstay had dug itself  into one of the wooden staithes. That took a few minutes to retrieve! A husband and wife team, where the wife was the skipper, there had clearly been some disagreement on the best way to proceed as they made their final approach. 

Ah well, easily done and there but for the grace of God went I a few minutes before. And I didnt have their length or windage issues. It is an unforgiving sailing ground, these narrow broad's channels! 

At Heigham sound, we mooed up alongside a near empty staithe for a picnic and watched a couple tack their boat up the channel, gracefully and with confidence. A master class, even if their sail had that same familiar crease that Arwen's main sail has!!

Our return trip was serene with the same wildlife to see. Our arrival back at the yard was tricky. More boats had arrived and had moored directly opposite the turn into the little staithe we had to occupy. Moreover, two motorboats had occupied my space, leaving me right on the end. I didn't hit anything but it took three tries to get that boat in, turned at a right angle and stern moored onto the staithe. 

It pays to be humble and I'm glad I didnt gloat up at Horsey Mill. I learned a long time ago that it doesn't matter how good you think you are, how experienced or inexperienced you are - the water shows no mercy to those who don't show it due deference and respect.