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.

Another day, another crisp ride along the Trail. Once again there was a bloody high tide down by the Muddy Banks. The spillage where the estuary floods the marshland was almost impassable.

Almost.

I rode through, as though I was competing in the Slow Bike Race back at a schools Sports Day.

OCD wins the day, as ever.

Chapeau!

That was one hell of a high tide down by the Muddy Banks this morning. In fact the Muddy Banks were nowhere to be seen.

It was also incredibly choppy around Windy Corner at Rowhedge.

You don’t say.

Birds were bobbing up at down along the water. Walkers were walking. My bicycle bell was active.

Chapeau!

There was an impressive high tide down by the Muddy Banks this lunchtime. The eastetny wind was blowing up a bit as well. Rowing was cancelled, natch.

The midway point along the Trail that floods over with high water was just about passable. I prayed to the Bicycle OCD Gods as I gingerly cycled through.

Always changing, always the same.

Friday lunchtime at the Table of Dreams 🏓 BATTERED her 4-1. Wind may have played a part.

We played with the heavy wind ball. It bounces like a demon.

In Boules News: the new boules strip built by the Town Council looks ready to play.

I look forward to the culture clash, when the stiffs look down on two young-ish urban kids living out their table tennis fantasies. Yep.

#tableofdreams