Some hit and miss snaps from a random Christmas Day walk, through Wivenhoe Woods, Ferry Marsh and then back to base via the Quay. My camera of choice was the Olympus PEN-F - just perfect for the crisp, blue sky conditions. Straight outta the box, no editing. Point, shoot, publish, move on etc.

We had TWO crews out along the Muddy Banks for a WivGigs Monday social row. And this included carrying a passenger in one boat, as a game of musical chairs took place on board as we made our way downstream towards Buoy 16 and beyond.

A little bird spotting took place by those that were bothered. Apologies, but a bird is a bloody bird. I’m here for the water, and hopefully a little peace and quiet.

That said, the flyover from a flock of geese was half decent. They might have been pigeons, but the personal touch as they made a flight path directly above us was a bit of a moment. I wasn’t alone in looking for geese / pigeon shit on my club clothing once they had buggered off to the other side of the Muddy Banks.

It was incredibly mild out there. The musical chairs meant that I found my way towards the front of the boat and on stroke. I refused to take off any layers. That boat can be full of crap with all the mud. My OCD mind would meltdown at the thought of river shit soiling my clothing.

Keep on moving, Jase. Keep on moving. Which meant that soon I was coxing. In a boat full of females, I held off with my OH SO FUCKING FUNNY cox joke. It was probably for the best.

Bateman’s Towner and Brightlingsea was soon within sight. Buoy 16 was reached.

“Anyone fancy the Rat?”

Oh go on then, Why not. Rat Island was entered. Here Be Rats, etc. We took the opportunity to stuff our faces with festive food.

The row back to the Sailing Club was a bit of a slog, tbh. I had a pressing work shift and wanted to get a move on. This was no time for bird spotting.

Oh.

I had to do a runner at the end on the Sailing Club. I took some water in on my wellies.

Arse.

To Brightlingsea!

I’m currently crocked with a particularly painful calf ping. Running is not an option. It’s too damp around the bloody Estuary Wilds to take on any cycling. And so a walk out to Brightlingsea sounded like a good idea. A quick look of the fixture list, and HEY! Brightlingsea Regent are at home. Job’s a good ‘un. If we get a shifty on then we can make it in time for KO, right?

But I never get a shifty on. I’m always stop, starting as I snap away at the exact same locations and wildlife shit that I have been capturing on camera for the past fifteen years. Oh well.

At least there was a bloody high tide as we strode out purposely past the Sailing Club. One of the rowing club boats was out, one was back at base. Soon we could see Audacity emerging on the horizon, battling it back to the Sailing Club hard on a crisp midwinter morning.

In the shared AirPods was Robert Elms, soon to handover to Gary Crowley. The four hour run of programming on BBC Radio London for a Saturday morning is as good as local radio gets.

The WivGigs crew was replaced by a flotilla of kayakers. I counted half a dozen paddling downstream in a formation. We thought at first that they had a bluetooth speaker and were having some of a pre-Christmas rave. It was a right old bloody racket. It turns out that it was some unknown birds, brooding and kicking up a fuss a little further up along the marshland.

A mid-walk snack was taken on Fat Bloke’s Bench, just before the Creek. The big fella would hopefully have appreciated the snack of choice - Lidl’s finest discounted stollen. TUCK IN, etc.

Past the Creek and the path ahead was deserted. Even for such a glorious midwinter morning, I was surprised that this stretch heading over to Thorrington was clear. At least I thought it was clear. I stopped by a bush for a comfort break. Seconds later and a dog walker emerged.

Whoops.

Destination Brightlingsea was reached. We cut across the back fields to avoid the main drag of endless traffic. We then got a little lost around some backstreet estate, before spotting the floodlights of Brightlingsea Regent.

Up the R’s, etc.

A 2pm KO up at Broad Lane as Wivenhoe Town welcomed Leiston U23’s. I still arrived fashionably late - but not as late as some of the regulars who were thrown my the floodlight friendly earlier KO time.

No worries. The score was still 0-0 when I started my routine photowalk around the ground, fifteen minutes after play had started. I should have spent more time at home, perfecting my match day hair styling.

Leiston U23’s were… very young. No shit. You can get away with this at this level playing up front and out wide. A bit pf pace and trickery amongst the youth is difficult to defend against.

SHOUT OUT to the young kids playing at the back and also the very youthful goalkeeper for the away team. This league can be a little belligerent for any slender framed fella coming up against an old school Essex clogger.

OUCH, etc.

It was a decent, competitive game. Both teams battled well. From my position behind the goal in the second half, it looked like Wivenhoe took the lead. I celebrated BIG TIME, even reaching out to high five the fella who was running past me having just scored.

Oh wait. He hit the side netting. YOU DICK, Jase, etc.

A minute later and the Dragons were one up. I was in the right place, right time to capture the money shot on camera. BACK OF THE NET, etc.

An almighty classic non-league goal scramble then followed at the other end. How the chuff the ball stayed out of the net after multiple attempts, I don’t know. Neither do both sets of players.

A very late equaliser for Leiston was deserved, but also devastating for the Dragons. The home team didn’t stop running all afternoon, showing commitment that has sometimes not always been there this season.

This was the best Wivenhoe performance I have seen for a while. The early KO was welcome as well. It meant that I could bugger off for the basketball without missing the second half.

The shortest of short rows on Thursday afternoon. We’re approaching the Winter Solstice. Time and tide, etc.

There was just enough light - and water - left in the day for a rapid row downstream and back.

This was no epic exploration around Rat Island, or the legendary Buoy 16. Let’s see how far we can get, whilst we can actually see.

Conversation was limited. We did have a brief discussion however about night rowing.

shhhhh.

This is a bit of a frowned activity within the club. But with the right lighting and a strong crew, it’s possible.

But not for today. Just concentrate on what is in front of you as the Estuary Wilds sun started to bugger off.

I was wearing shades, natch. Which didn’t exactly help. But I did look Cool as Fuck.

The cox put me on stroke. I was a man on a mission. I was also a man who wasted no time in breaking a thole pin with my hidden strength.

Sunset was a stunner. We paused briefly, to watch it disappear for another day.

A couple of playful dogs were waiting for us back on the Sailing Club hard. I took something of a splashing during the recovery.

Lights out.

We had two boats out along the Estuary Wilds for the WivGigs Monday social row. We also had an exceptionally high tide.

Waders were needed for launching and the recovery. I do bloody LOVE poncing around in thick rubber around my thighs.

This was the morning after the afternoon before. RACE DAY over on Mersea Island led to a most welcome - and unexpected - second place showing for the mixed crew.

Monday lunchtime was a much more sedate affair.

Rain threatened throughout the row. We left with bright skies peering down on us from downstream, and pressed on to the more uncertain upstream water, where dark clouds were waiting for us.

Just Bloody Get Out, etc.

Decent progress was made. We made it down as far as Buoy 18.

The main conversation was To Glove or Not? I’m not quite ready to expose my delicate palms to the dangers of raw rowing. Hand Cream for a Generation, etc.

A headwind greeted us as we battled it back to the Sailing Cub hard. The high water had almost covered the trailer that we had left up towards the Sailing Club.

Oh yeah - I had a bit of a zen moment midway through the row.

#rowingdick

We had to break the ice ahead of a WivGigs Winter Warmer midweek row.

Not any ice over the mass of water stretching all the way downstream to Brightlingsea, but the water that had formed in the boat.

This was always going to be a row where we were fighting the elements; the bitter coldness, a strong wind blowing through the Estuary Wilds, and my misjudged toilet call.

It’s very difficult to cross your legs in a boat when you are rowing as part of a team.

Just don’t think of water, right?

Oh shit.

The Big Essex Blue Sky up above was beautiful. Given the coldness, our cox chose the safer option of heading upstream and over towards the Hythe.

It was a wise decision.

Some drills were carried out before we reached Rowhedge. They involved plopping the oars into the water whilst stationary.

It didn’t make much sense to me, either. I just wanted to row and keep bloody warm.

Windy Corner ahead of Rowhedge was navigated. We started to drift a little towards the Muddy Banks under the gusts.

A turnaround took place with no rower involvement. Why do the work, when the changing tide can do this naturally for you?

I had a little time coxing the boat back towards the Sailing Club. I bluffed it, natch, but just about got away with it.

A masked up brave solo kayaker passed us. We admired what must have been two hundred or so pigeons perching on a roof that presumably had insulation.

Brrrrr.

I will get to wear my club rowing vest. But probably not until mid-May.

We had two crews for WivGigs Super Sunday.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

I made my way down to the Sailing Club hard, shortly before the arranged 8am meet up.

Oh, it looks a little sparse.

Varuna’s crew was ship shape and all set to launch. VERY organised.

Meanwhile, my crew in Audacity was struggling on the numbers front.

We need a minimum of four rowers and one cox, right? How about three rowers and a cox? Or even four rowers and no cox?

Gosh.

Life shit gets in the way for everyone. We were two down from the planned crew. We were also rather experienced, and so decided to press on with the launch.

Who needs a cox, anyway? Overrated.

We were pretty much rowing blind down towards the edges of Brightlingsea. Our cox was able to navigate us out into the estuary, and then he added his muscle power so the boat was pulling equally on both sides.

This is fun, isn’t it?

It actually was rather liberating. Having no one tugging away on the rudder could be physically felt. Audacity was rowing in a pure style with no external interference.

Just how the chuff do we steer this thing?

We developed a technique largely centred around communication, and then reacting.

“OI! There’s a buoy coming up on my bow side!”

Time for stroke to ease off a little as bow puts the blades down with some extra pace in the water.

Thankfully the estuary was calm and empty of other river traffic for so early on Sunday morning.

There was little time for the usual observations. If it ain’t a buoy or another boat, then it’s not worth focussing on.

I did think at one stage that I saw a seal by White House Beach. But it was a dog, natch.

We cocked up the turnaround at buoy 20. You try turning a HULK of a boat with no one steering it.

The incoming rain we could see over Brightlingsea got the better of us. Now was no time to be all at sea.

Back to base!

It was quite an effort heading towards Weird Wiv, even with the help of the incoming tide.

But we made it.

That was quite a Sunday morning adventure. For someone who is most deff not a team player, I thought I played a blinder.

A return to The Trail for the firs time in a fortnight. The leaves have dropped, the ferry has been put away to bed for another season. We’re on the cusp of the end of autumn, approaching stupidly early Christmas planning.

I had chores and admin that I really should have been seeing to indoors. But the forecast for the bloody Estuary Wilds for tomorrow is a shocker. You need to get out, whilst you can.

Further down the Trail and the cormorant was sitting proud on top of his pole vantage point, drying his wings out. We watched the latest shitty Jurassic Park film last night. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in that.

Make the most of these Golden Days, Mr Cormorant. You appreciate the sun all the more when it’s pissing it down 24/7 outside. Good luck with the wing drying thing in the morning.

Another day, another bicycle ride along the Trail en route for a swim. These blog posts write themselves - and we’re not talking AI, Comrades.

The water was still coming in - I think? It was a little lacklustre, tbh.

My only observation to note was that the quayside repairs on the Rowhedge side of the Muddy Banks look almost complete.

A team of hard-hatted, hi vis fellas were ticking off items on a clipboard. The iron structure to replace the one that fell into the estuary looks finished.

Will there be a grand reopening?

Unlikely.

This whole stretch still REEKS of shit from the nearby sewage plant.

Oh the excitement of a Trail bicycle ride.