The Last Post of the Season--from Sunny and Warm California!

When I left off a couple days ago, I was relating my exploration of Ipswich on Friday, Sept. 11, and had stopped at St. Margaret's Church. The church was founded around 1300 and enlarged by wealthy parishioners in the 15th and 16th centuries to include the tower, the hammer beam roof, transepts and clerestory windows. The tower as it now stands was rebuilt and increased in height in the 19th century. Like most of the medieval churches in Ipswich, the external decoration contrasts white limestone with black split flint in a construction style known as flushwork. 

The interior, particularly the ceiling, is impressive, although for a while it was not. In the 17th century, the interior of the church changed to reflect the rise of the Puritans during The Commonwealth period. The painted walls of the church were whitewashed over. The angels on the wooden roof beam ends were removed, and the decorations on the sides of the 15th century font were damaged. In 1694 the panel paintings of the ceiling were commissioned to commemorate the accession of William and Mary. The combination of the medieval double hammer beam roof and the baroque ceiling panels provides the most spectacular and unique feature of the church.

Exterior of St. Margaret's Church

The nave and the baroque ceiling of St. Margaret's 

Poppyhead ornaments at the ends of the pews and the altar

My next stop was another medieval church, St. Mary-le-Tower. It was redesignated as a minster in 2025. The church has both a civil and religious history. The church is mentioned from 1086 in the Domesday Book. Ipswich's royal charter was first read in the churchyard, and the town charter was written here in 1200. Although the church is medieval, it was largely rebuilt from 1860 to 1870.

Painted and carved decoration and the stained glass window in the Lady Chapel  

Interior of view toward the alter, St. Mary Le Tower Church

Exterior and churchyard, St. Mary Le Tower Church

I walked down to the waterfront after visiting the churches and other historic buildings for four hours and then decided I felt like heading back to the marina, feeling my energy wane. (I had neglected to stop for lunch.) From the waterfront, I used Google Maps to direct me to the place to pick up a bus toward Fox's Marina and Boatyard. A bus that would take me almost all the way had its departure point at the bus station at the Old Cattle Market. On my walk to the station, I was distracted briefly by medieval buildings and arrived to discover that the bus had already left. I assumed that it ran on a regular basis, but I was wrong. That bus only ran once a day. So, I attempted to find other routes on public transportation, but the buses I chose were either delayed or did not run for at least another hour. Finally, as my phone battery was almost dead, I decided to order an Uber. Fantastic, one was only 6 minutes away. But as I watched the vehicle make its way to me, it took many strange turns and the arrival time kept increasing. It was 11 minutes away when my phone died! I waited a few minutes, but it did not come. I had no choice but to walk on my weary feet the nearly two miles back to the boat. I hoped that I remembered the way because I now had no electronic map, and the paper map I had acquired at the public library only covered Ipswich itself. I stopped a couple times to verify directions. Two Middle Eastern men running a corner store assured me that I should just continue. I stopped at a pharmacy at a fork in the road to ask for directions. A man there assured me that the right fork would lead directly to my destination--and it was only about a mile away! This did little to cheer me up. When, having walked along Wherstead Road, still as dreary as ever even though the bins had been moved from the sidewalk to just the other side of the walls and fences, I arrived at Mantra, I collapsed on the couch and asked only for a large glass of Diet Coke and a bag of chips (or crisps). I did not move for two hours! I was able to put together dinner but could not exert myself any more than that.

The next morning, Saturday, September 12, I sensibly ordered an Uber before I left the boat and made it to Ispwich in under 10 minutes. Although I was on the waiting list, I was able to join an hour and a half walking tour led by a very knowledgeable and articulate volunteer with the Ipswich Society. Some of the buildings we visited I had seen the day before, but I loved learning about their history and architectural features and the general history of Ipswich itself. The tour ended in front of the Customs House, a historical building from the Victorian Era. There are a couple historic ships moored on the quay. On the deck of one, a professional group was performing sea shanties, and they were quite talented. 

Sea shanty entertainment

Peter had spent the morning mostly making arrangements to meet up with the owner of another Sundeer (the type of boat Mantra is) and with a friend from Oxford and his friend, who has a boat he is planning to sail around the Northern Atlantic starting next spring. Then he was free to meet me in town at noon. On the way to our rendezvous point, I stopped near the Stoke Bridge at St. Peter's Church by the Waterfront (our where the waterfront used to be; it's now a block away), which was open for Heritage Open Days.

Like many of the other eleven medieval churches in Ipswich, St. Peter's is noted in the Domesday Book of 1086, but it is believed that a parish church existed here since the founding of Ipswich in the 7th century. Henry I founded the Augustinian Priory of St. Peter and St. Paul here around 1130. In 1296, Edward I's daughter Elizabeth was married in the church to John I, Count of Holland, bestowing much wealth on the city for the celebration. The existing structure was built in 1460. The people of the parish had always worshipped in the large nave of the church, but in 1528, Cardinal Wolsey closed the Priory to found his College of the Blessed Virgin Mary, with the church serving as its chapel. When Wolsey died in disgrace in 1530, his college fell with him. The parishioners, who had to move to other parishes, petitioned to have the church restored to them in 1537. All that is left of the college is a red brick gateway and wooden door; Henry VIII had the rest destroyed.

One of the most outstanding features of the exterior of St. Peter's, which is within a walled churchyard, is the 93 1/2 foot tall western bell tower, built in the 15th century. The walls are faced with knapped flint, exposing their dark cores. Inside, the church's greatest treasure, the enormous limestone bowl of the former priory font, is faced with twelve lions prowl, three on each side and none exactly alike. Displayed in the north aisle is the brass memorial to John Knapp, who died in 1604, and his wife and children.

The font at St. Peter's Church

Knapp memorial

A series of eight large embroidered wall panels that form one work provide a history of the town from pre-Viking times to the end of the 20th century. The panels are linked by an image of the River Orwell in each. These were commissioned in 2000 to commemorate the granting of the Royal Charter to the town in 1200 by King John.

Viking times

Medieval times

Victorian times

Like several of the medieval churches in Ipswich, St. Peter's became redundant and was deconsecrated in 1979. It is now home to the Ipswich Hospital Band and serves as a heritage, arts and concert venue. On the day I visited, there was a craft fair in the nave.

I met Peter at the Unitarian Meeting House, which had been on the walking tour earlier in the day. Opened in 1700, it is a timber frame building plastered and white-washed inside and out. The design is typical of those built by Protestant Dissenters from the established Church of England. The pulpit is on the south wall and the communion table is in the central space. The original main entrance was on the east side, approached through the alleyway from St. Nicholas, set back from the street and hidden by houses. Because of religious intolerance, the congregations was likely to be attacked by mob with dead rats, feces, stones or other substances. In the east door is a spy hole through which someone could watch during worship to give warning of any impending disturbance. 

The congregation dates from at least 1672, occupying two other spaces before building this house of worship. Originally Presbyterian with Calvinist roots, they became Unitarian during the 18th century.

After thee Unitarian Meeting House, Peter and I walked around looking for a place for lunch. We passed a statue depicting the Grandma and other characters from Giles Family, a fictional British family created by cartoonist Carl Giles at the end of WWII. The format for publication was a single-panel, highly detailed cartoon, seen daily in the Daily Express and the Sunday Express from 1945 to 1991, commenting on topic headlines. The statue of the rotund woman and other characters faces the newspaper office where Carl Giles used to work.

Continuing on our search for a restaurant or cafe, we were drawn into Ancient House, where a Heritage Days tour was starting. The tour guide had lots of information about the interior and exterior architecture, but he was not an enthralling speaker, so, with our stomachs growling, we ducked out. 

Oriel window and city view, Ancient House

Elaborate plaster work on the ceiling in one of the great rooms of Ancient House

Finally, we reached Christchurch Park and Mansion, where we enjoyed sandwiches outdoors at the cafe Feeling better, we went inside the mansion and to the Wolsey Art Museum in the back of the house. The current exhibit is entitled The Hay Wain: Walking Constable's Landscape. It showcased paintings, sketches and other artwork by the artist from the gallery's collection and on loan from the Tate, the V&A, the Royal Academy and the National Gallery of Scotland. The exhibition showcases some of his most important works and also gave a wonderful overview of his progression as an artist. 

Constable was born in 1776 in Suffolk County (of which Ipswich is the main city) in a village along the River Stour. His father was a wealthy corn merchant. John was expected to take over the family mill and shipping business. However, in 1799, he persuaded his father to let him pursue a career in art and his father, Golding Constable, granted him a small allowance. He entered the Royal Academy Schools and by 1803 was exhibiting his paintings there. Famous for his Romantic landscapes, many showing the East Anglia countryside, he also made portraits and country house paintings to make ends meet. At the time of his early career, landscapes were not considered as important as historical or mythological themes. In 1817, he began to paint on large canvases. His first major success allowed him to be elected as an associate to the Royal Academy and led to a series of monumental landscapes. He was finally elected to the Academy as a full member in 1829, at the age of 52, only 8 years before his death. Nevertheless, his paintings were not particularly well received in England during his lifetime.

After our time at the exhibition, we found that the Heritage Days tours had ended, but we were able to tour the mansion on our own. Christchurch Mansion is a Tudor brick house built 1548-50 by the southern gates of the city by Edmund Withypoll. Christchurch Park was originally the grounds of the Priory of the Holy Trinity occupying many square miles outside the city walls. During Henry VIII's Dissolution of the Monasteries, the monastery grounds were put up for sale and purchased by Paul Withypoll and the mansion was constructed by his heir and son. It was owned by several noble families before being purchased by the Ipswich Borough Council in 1884. Now, it is a museum with period rooms, full of furniture, clothing, musical instruments and toys as well as paintings by local artists, including Constable and Thomas Gainsborough. 

The dining room

Part of the mansion's kitchen

A bed with a moine (bedwarmer) on top

The music room of Christchurch Mansion

Bedchamber

Library

After our meanderings through the mansion, Peter and I got an Uber back to Fox's Marina and Boatyard (mostly boatyard). We met with a man named Lance who, together with his partner, has purchased a 64-foot Sundeer (Ours is only 56 feet.) which is now on the hard at the boatyard. We chatted for a while. Chris, a close friend and sailing companion of Andrew, one of Peter's Oxford buddies who has his boat in a nearby marina, dropped by also. Lance showed us around his boat, which needs an enormous amount of work done, although she is seaworthy enough for him to have sailed him earlier this year from the Philippines, where she was purchased.

The next day, Sunday, September 13, we had a truly impressive lunch with Lance, Chris, and Andrew at the restaurant at the marina. The four guys each had an enormous meal of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, potatoes and other vegetables and I was impressed with my meal, gnocchi with several types of mushrooms in a herbed cream sauce. (I am always pleased when the vegetarian selection is given as much thought and care in preparation as the carnivore meals.) We enjoyed lively conversation about my aversion to boatyards and their sailing stories. 

After lunch, I took a nap--because boredom makes one sleepy. I woke up to find that Peter had already moved into boat repair mode, with cushions and other furnishings displaced. Having already been in outside-Ipswich for a few days, my incompatibility with boatyards reached a breaking point and I started to consider coming home. The next day, Monday, I booked a plane ticket for two days later and Peter scheduled for the boat to be hauled out on Wednesday. He continued with his endless boat work and I cleaned up the boat inside and, now knowing how much was needed, I walked to ASDA supermarket to purchase just two bags of groceries. We had dinner that evening at the hotel restaurant across the street with Gus and Helen.

Peter working on something electrical

Tuesday, September 15, saw us up early. We were lucky that there was only light wind, which made it easier for us to take down and bag the mainsail, the genoa and the storm sail, which we accomplished by noon. I made lunch, did some more cleaning and packed my bags. I set aside vegetables and other items for use in preparing meals to give to Helen since Peter usually lives on eggs and sandwiches when he is on board by himself. 

At 3 p.m., we cast off and motored down river to the Suffolk Yacht Club, where we could pump out the holding tank and leave the three bagged sails with a sailmaker for cleaning, minor repair and storage. For dinner that evening we ate the last leftovers, curried lentils and rice. Later, Gus and Helen came by to pick up the food and chat.

Peter and I woke up at 7 a.m. on our last day together for a few weeks, Wednesday, September 16. We had breakfast, took showers and washed towels in our machine on board (There are no laundry facilities at Fox's.) before I was met by an Uber at 9 a.m. Greenwich Daylight Time. A short Uber trip, an hour-long trip by train to London, a 40 minute ride on the Elizabeth line to London Heathrow, a flight to Denver and then another to Sacramento, where I was picked up by our neighbor Andi, saw me home by 10 p.m. Pacific Daylight Time--only a 21-hour trip! Andi's spouse Kim met us at the house and helped get my luggage inside. I do not sleep at all, or not well if I do, on planes, so I was exhausted and went directly to bed.

Meanwhile, in near-Ipswich, Mantra was hauled out in the early afternoon. Her bottom was cleaned and she was moved and blocked in her place for the fall and winter. Peter is living aboard for a few days despite her being out of the water, her natural element. 

Mantra on the travel lift

I will fly back to England on October 6. Peter, Matthew and I will stay with Rob and Susan in Kingsclere until Peter and I depart from Heathrow on the 9th for our one-month safari in Kenya and Tanzania. 

For now, I am luxuriating in the heat, clear blue skies and consistent sunshine at home for three weeks. Although I miss Peter, I do not miss the only occasional glimpses of sunshine that Peter has named "cloudshine." The garden needs a lot of work, so I will be happily busy outdoors.

Part of our backyard

Cloudshine 

Another example of cloudshine

The blog will be back in the spring of 2027.

Ipswich--Or Somewhere Near There

On  September 10, we weighed anchor and made a quick journey up the River Orwell, where Rob would catch a train from Ipswich to go home after two weeks with us. I had understood that we were going to Ipswich, but Peter had booked the dock, so I found myself not on the waterfront in Ipswich but in a boat yard and marina somewhere outside of the city. I did not hesitate to express my lack of enthusiasm for his choice. I suspect he intentionally did not reveal to me where we were going. Peter absolutely loves being in boatyards and I categorically do not. Invariably, they are located in the middle of nowhere.

Nonetheless, here we are, five days in. Rob had just left to get an Uber to the train station (which, obviously, is not close by), having bid us goodbye under the hull of a large sailing vessel on the hard (You can't imagine how picturesque it is!), when we encountered Gus Wilson, a fellow sailor who, with his wife Helen, are full-time live aboards with a home port at St. Katherine Docks, London. This is where we got to know them. They are here for a couple weeks living on their boat on the hard while work is being done by them and the experts in the boatyard. We joined them for lunch at the restaurant, Outlook, overlooking the boats in the marina. 

Afterwards, I did four loads of laundry. The two sets of bed linens actually were 98% dry well before sunset. (That's about as good as it gets.) The towels had to be unpegged and brought in to the pilot house to be re-hung the next day. Peter and I spent some time planning our upcoming trip (by air) to Kenya and Tanzania and did chores around the boat. I researched things to do in Ipswich and ways to get there. Gus and Helen had informed us that Heritage Days was going on in Ipswich, offering tours and openings of buildings usually closed to public. They dropped by for a chat in the evening, which was pleasant. Helen has hearing problems and really couldn't participate in the conversation over lunch at the restaurant, so it was nice that she could join in the quiet on our boat.

The next morning, leaving Peter to the joys of tinkering on the boat and having access to a very good chandlery on site, I left to visit Ipswich. Google Maps indicated that it would take 45 minutes by bus or I could walk there in 43. I chose the latter, thinking I would get a chance to see more by walking. Indeed, I saw a lot, most of which was visually unappealing. After leaving the boatyard, I walked across an old arched brick bridge, now used only by pedestrians, and walked along Wherstead Road in a town I think is called Maidenhall, which is maybe part of Stoke. The two-lane road had constant and noisy traffic both ways. Obviously, it was pick-up day for garbage and recyclables because the sidewalk was lined on both sides with bins just on the outside of the brick walls or wooden fences in front of an endless row of particularly unattractive duplexes and terrace housing. I understand that England has experienced a long, dry summer, but that does not, in my opinion, excuse the utter lack of plant life within the narrow little front yards between the walls and the front of the buildings. There were no lawns, either drought brown or British green, and no flowering plants to be seen. Less than a dozen small trees grew along the mile long busy street. Although people surely lived there, it seemed desolate. 

Finally, I arrived at the bridge across the River Orwell into Ipswich and passed into a historical and visually interesting area. This port town and borough is the largest city in Suffolk. First recorded in the medieval period as Gippeswic, the town has been continuously inhabited since the Anglo-Saxon period in the 7th and 8th centuries. (It claims to be the oldest continuously occupied town developed by the English in England.) It became the main port of trade of the Kingdom of East Anglia under King Rædwald from 616 to 624. (The nearby Sutton Hoo site is probably the burial site for him, his ship and his treasure.) 

Ipswich prospered as an independent trade city but fell under Viking rule in 869. Eventually, the English took control again. The town was granted its first charter in 1200 by King John. Over the next four centuries, Ipswich was a very wealthy city with numerous priories, churches, hospitals, mansions and public buildings.

During the 14th to 17th centuries, Ipswich was a designated trading port, or kontor, of the Hanseatic League, a network of merchant guilds and market towns in central and northern Europe comprised of almost 200 settlements. The league dominated maritime trade in the North and Baltic Seas. Hanseatic merchants operated private companies and had greater access to commodities, privileges and protection abroad. The league protected its ships from pirates, built lighthouses and negotiated low custom duties and special tax exemptions for its members. Its economic power even enabled it to create blockades and engage in war.

Trade is not Ipswich's only claim to fame. The city's most well-known son is Thomas Wolsey, who was born in Ipswich in 1473 and was educated with the help of wealthy relations. Cardinal Wolsey was one of King Henry VIII's closest political allies and his Lord Chancellor, until he wasn't. He failed to obtain the annulment of Henry and Catherine of Aragon's 22-year marriage, and Henry stripped him of his government office and property and accused him of treason. On route to London for trial, he became seriously ill and died at Leicester Abbey in 1530. He was buried in a simple pine coffin, dressed in his episcopal robes with his cross, mitre and ring. After the dissolution of the monasteries between 1536 and 1541, the abbey was was razed and the site of Wolsey's burial was lost.

However, there is a outsized statue of him on St. Peter's Street; currently the eyes are accented in blue, no doubt a fashion statement. The statue includes a cat by his seat because Wolsey was known to be a feline lover who often brought them to formal events, state dinners and church services.

Cardinal Thomas Wolsey and a cat

Before passing by this sculpture, I detoured into a medieval courtyard surrounded by Tudor buildings with walls of brickwork and plaster sandwiched among large timbers as well as leaded glass windows. I learned that one design feature of the medieval structures is the slight overhang of the upper story. Apparently, the buildings have tilted over time or the construction workers had not yet learned to use a plumb line.

Medieval courtyards

At the corner of St. Nicholas and Silent Streets, is an early Tudor building called Curson Lodge. Inside the ground level of the corner part of the three building former lodge is a new age shop where it is possible to see the earlier interior structural elements. Like most old buildings, additions were made over time, and the joints reveal where these occurred.

Curson Lodge

A newer carved beam joined with an older, darker one

The streets and alleys are lined with medieval, Tudor, Georgian, Victorian and other styled architecture. The most striking building is Ancient House, also known as Sparrowe's House after one of the former owners. The original part of the house dates back to the late 14th or early 15th century, when it was owned by Sir Richard of Martlesham. In the 16th century, a series of local merchants occupied and added to the house, including George Copping, a draper and fishmonger who acquired the property in 1567 and the Sparrowe family, who bought it in 1603 and owned it for 300 years. The elaborately carved structural wood posts and lintels are topped by the milk-white first story, which was added by Robert Sparrowe between 1660 and 1670 and bears the arms of King Charles II and the motto of the Order of the Garter. It features detailed pargeting, a decorative relief technique in plaster. In addition to the garlands and other motifs, it features four panels representing the Tudor idea of the world--the continents of Africa, America, Asia and Europe. (Australia was yet to be discovered.) The four bays have beautiful oriel windows.

Ancient House

Ancient House pargeting detail

Of course, I stopped at every church I passed. St. Peter's by the Waterfront was not open that day, but I admired it and St. Lawrence from the outside. Ipswich still has twelve churches from medieval times, over half of which are still functioning as places of worship of the Church of England (although they were all built as Catholic churches). Architectural features of the exterior of these churches are the walls constructed of flint stones and the square bell towers. St. Lawrence has the oldest ring of five bells in a Christian church, all dating from the 15th century; they are rung only at lunchtime on Wednesdays and the first Sunday of every month. The former sanctuary is now a cafe. The Victorians added to the facade on the top portion of the church tower so that, while quite attractive, it no longer reflects the original building style. 

St. Lawrence's church and tower

Victorian facade above the original flint and limestone walls

Flint and limestone details at the bottom of the exterior walls of the church

In Christchurch Park on the north side of the main town, I admired the Wolsey Garden by the Christchurch Mansion and Wolsey Art Museum. The buildings are closed on Fridays, so I continued with my perambulation and found St. Margaret's Church. 

TO BE CONTINUED!

Lowestoft and on to the River Orwell

We arrived and docked at the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club at Lowestoft at 10:30 p.m. Monday, September 7, after nearly 28 hours of sailing and motoring across the North Sea from Helgoland, Germany. Exhausted, we went to bed for a full night of sleep.

On Tuesday morning, September 8, we awoke to rain and cloudy skies which lasted until dinner time. I woke up, ready to go, at 7 a.m., but no one else was out of bed, so I returned to the warmth of the covers and Peter's back and continued sleep until 10 a.m. We had an early lunch and then went to visit two old ships on Heritage Quay which Rob had discovered on his morning ramblings.

The first was the bright-green painted steel vessel Lydia Eva YH89, the last surviving steam drifter of the herring fishing fleet in East Anglia, built in 1930. She was larger than most other drifters of the time, fast and carrying half as many nets as other craft. Her size (29 meters or 95 feet in length) allowed a trawl winch to fitted forward of the wheelhouse so that she could be changed from a drifter to a trawler in less than 48 hours. She operated as a profitable fishing vessel until 1942, when she was requisitioned for military use during WWII. Until 1960, she remained attached to the Air Ministry, renamed the Watchmoor. after which she was scheduled twice for scrapping. Finally, in 1972, she was acquired by the Maritime Trust for preservation and then was purchased for a pound by the Lydia Eva and Mincarlo Trust, which has, through government financial support a much fund-raising, has restored her. 

The Lydia Eva

We were greeted by a friendly and knowledgeable volunteer, a local whose mother had been a net mender for the trawlers in Lowestoft. He spent well over half an hour with us showing us around and provided us with the ship's history and details about various items above and below deck. We visited the deck, the crew's sleeping quarters, the galley, the skipper's cabin, the fish hold, and the anchor chamber as well as the engine and boiler room. Peter and Rob particularly enjoyed the explanation of the steam triple expansion engine and the Scotch boiler, designed so that hot flue gases pass through tubes within a tank of water. The one on Lydia Eva has 190 tubes, providing a working pressure of 200 psi.

Rob, a volunteer and Peter in the engine room

The foredeck

All of us were fascinated by the human history connected with the operation of the Lydia Eva as a fishing vessel. Each autumn, she began her drifting operations off the coast of Scotland. Scotswomen of all ages followed the ship via land and were involved in cleaning and packing the catch. On average, they could gut 50 herrings per minute. A film made in the 1930s showed them at work doing their various tasks and also provided footage of the ship and her crew working at sea. 

After the volunteer showed us around, we continued to explore on our own to learn about the history of the ship and the nets, buoys, tools and other apparatus for the catch and the work on deck in getting the fish into the hold. There were cran baskets of various dimensions on display; a cran was an official government volume equal of 37.5 imperial gallons. Because a full cran basket was too heavy to lift when full, so fractional versions--half, quarter and eighth crans--were also used. These beautiful, strong baskets were made locally with osier, hazel and cane.

We next visited the Mincarlo on the other side of the finger pier, a trawler built in 1961 with a single-screw motor made in the town. She is the last surviving sidewinder fishing trawler of the 50 to 60 strong Lowestoft fishing fleet. Her catches consisted of cod, haddock, plaice, skate and sole. She operated as a trawler. until 1975. In 1977 she was converted to a stand-by vessel for the offshore gas and oil industry.

The deck of the Mincarlo

It was possible to visit all the cabins below deck as well as the engine room.  The forecastle is now a museum, with many photographs as well as fishing gear, including trawling nets, the 40 ft. long ground ropes that held the net on the seabed, and the heavy otter boards which held the net open as it scraped the bottom. Not unsurprisingly, the signs lamented the damage to the nets which this caused, sometimes requiring two days to repair, but there was no mention of the environmental damage. The best part of the museum was a film made in the 1960s by Esso which went into great detail about the intense and long training men received to become qualified to work on the trawlers, become mates and, for some, captains.

After our edifying visits to these two historic ships, we returned to our own ship to collect the massive amount of laundry we had as well as towels and toiletry kits before going to the large and well-appointed yacht clubhouse with the usual display of racing cups and trophies. We exchanged pounds for tokens to use in the large capacity washer and dryer, which allowed me to do all the laundry in two loads. The washing machine was efficient and took only 45 minutes to operate. The dryer, however, only ran for 30 minutes on a token, which the staff seemed to think would be sufficient. Needless to say, the clothes were not nearly dry, so I purchased two more dryer tokens, one for each load. Even an hour was not enough, so I went back to the staff to gently complain. The manager provided me with two extra tokens for free, and most of the clothes dried completely except for a pair of jeans and some of Peter's and Rob's sport shirts with collars.

I continued to go back and forth from the laundry room for four hours, including during dinner at the clubhouse, which was quite good. Surprisingly, even though the rain had finally stopped, we were the only customers that evening.

Even though we were in a harbor, the swell crept into the docks and Mantra gently rolled continuously all day and night. The movement rocked us to sleep. 

This morning, Rob and Peter woke up earlier than me and set off at 7:30 a.m. to take advantage of favorable currents. Only six hours later, sailing almost the whole time and cruising at a speed of over 10 knots, close-hauled (translation: uncomfortable heeling), we dropped anchor at 1:30 p.m. on the River Orwell just past the Port of Felixstowe, where enormous container ships were being loaded, including the Ever Given, the 400-meter ship that gained attention for blocking the Suez Canal for six day in March 2021. 

Peter at the helm on the way to the River Orwell

The notorious Ever Given off the bow

Two ships being loaded with cargo

After lunch, Peter and Rob launched the dinghy and went to Suffolk Yacht Harbour so that Rob could look at a sailboat he is considering buying. He has been perpetually looking at yachts for many years while his wife Susan has been steadfast in her lack of enthusiasm for becoming the proud owner of a boat.

While they have been gone, I have taken stock of provisions, planned dinner, successfully cleaned a fender that was covered with aluminum oxide from rubbing on the bumpers on the dock in Helgoland, and hung the still damp clean clothes. The wind is under 10 knots and the sun shines about five minutes of every hour, so whether they will dry is unknown. I have learned not to be optimistic.

Off the East Coast of England

The lights of the towns along the East Anglia coast are off our starboard side as we motor south toward the town of Lowestoft, where we hope to dock tonight after traveling since 6:40 a.m. yesterday (Sunday, September 6). The North Sea, particularly after the days of strong wind blowing across it before our departure has been uncomfortably lumpy most of the way, but we have had no problems and have maintained a good speed as we traveled beside or across major shipping lanes. Unfortunately, light winds and contrary currents prohibited us from sailing for the first twelve hours; just before 7:00 p.m., we were able to turn the engine off and sail through the night. I took the first watch from 9-12; Peter had the second watch and Rob took the last watch before sunrise. Luckily, the weather was rather warm. The skies were clear and the stars were bright. We maintained a speed of 10 knots for much of the night and through most of the morning before we again had to resort to the reliable engine for the rest of our voyage.

Far away, a huge floating oil and gas rig in the Troll field of the North Sea

We passed wind farms off the coast of the Netherlands, oil or gas rigs in the middle of the North Sea, giant cargo ships, fishing vessels and various marks for the shipping channels, occasionally having to make contact with the other vessels to confirm passing protocol. We spent the sometimes seemingly endless hours reading, eating, checking the wind and currents on phone apps and playing games--Farkle, Pass the Pigs and gin. 

Because we were able to maintain good speed, we crossed from Germany to England more quickly than anticipated, which is wonderful because I, for one, do not need to endure another night on watch. We will be docking at the Royal Norfolk & Suffolk Yacht Club in Lowestoft very shortly, so I am needed now as navigator.

Kiel Canal and Helgoland, Germany

We are trapped at Helgoland, Germany! Of and on, the rain pours down--plunk and splatter--on the deck. In the last six hours, 1 inch has fallen. We stayed down below this morning, and I am still here. When the the volume of precipitation decreased recently, Peter and Rob left the boat separately, Rob to explore and Peter to find a hardware store. A bit of rain is predicted tomorrow, but it is not rain that keeps us from sailing on, with only 4 days, including today, left on our visas. The wind is 20 knots from the west right now, our direction of travel. By 6:00 p.m. the sustained wind is predicted for 30, with gusts to 45 knots, continuing for the 24 hour period the next day. In the early hours of Sunday, September 6, it will begin to decrease steadily and be blowing from the northwest, finally allowing us to continue our journey toward England. By then, the wind will be lighter and backing throughout the day from NW to south. We probably need to make a run for it then, as the trip across the North Sea is more than two days (Yes, I am dreading it!) and the wind is expected to increase again after Tuesday. Fortunately, the wind seems to be more benign the closer we get to the east coast of England during this time frame, so perhaps our anxiety about the weather will prove to be unwarranted. 

Our transit through the Kiel Canal on Wednesday, September 2, was uneventful. We cast off the dock in Holtenau at 7 a.m. and were through the lock, along with several other sail boats and one container ship, by 7:30. Eight and a half hours later, at 4 p.m., we rafted up by a Dutch sail boat in the holding area for the Brunsbüttel Lock. We were in the lock at 5:20 with other sailboats and one tug. The water level rose 1.6 meters, the seaward gate opened and we were in the large mouth of the Elbe River. 

The 61-mile trip through the Kiel Canal was uneventful. Since autopilot is not allowed, someone had to be at the wheel at all times, so we took one and a half hour shifts. Passing through the flat Schleswig-Holstein region of northern Germany at close to 6 knots, we swept pass wooded areas, silos, various industrial sites and a few villages and cities with port facilities. Occasionally, we saw bevies of a dozen our more mute swans. An average of 90 cargo ships per day use the Kiel Canal. Several passed on in either direction, towering over us. The smallest load I counted was 250 containers. 

Our boat by the container ship in the Holtenau lock of the Kiel Canal

A bevy of mute swans

Container ship in the canal

It was calm in the canal, of course, but the waves and wind picked up as we motored down the Elbe and into the North Sea. We knew that adverse weather was coming and had to make a decision for a port to hole up for three days. Peter did not want to deal with currents when we start our next leg, so we chose the island of Helgoland, which the two of us visited in June. We recalled that after a two day stay, we had agreed that we had seen all there was to see there, so this destination did not really offer new areas of exploration for us.

In high wind, rain and rough seas, we sailed across the Bight of Germany to the island, avoiding shoals and navigating in the dark to the harbor, which was tricky to enter. I stayed below until we reached the outer harbor. The repeated ka-thump of the bow dropping back into the water after every wave raised her up did not facilitate sleep nor even rest, but I least I was warm and dry down below during the crossing. (We are so lucky to have Rob on board!) On this dark and stormy night, with 20 knots of wind from the southwest, we managed to find a spot at the head of the long dock on the southeast side of Helgoland. Rob and Peter had a cup of tea with biscuits, but I went directly to bed.

We all slept in the next morning and then found ways to amuse ourselves, including a game of Take 5. When the rain stopped in mid-afternoon, we left Mantra to walk around the island. In the heart of Untedland, we briefly visited a quite small natural history museum packed with specimens of sea birds and their eggs as well as marine life. All the information was is German, so we had to draw our own conclusions. (There is no signage and no menus in any language other than German anywhere on the island since, as far as we can tell, only Germans come here on holiday.) Then we stopped at a bagel shop just before 4 p.m. (closing time) and enjoyed sandwiches on fresh bagels. Then we set off for Uberland and the cliffs on the west side of the island. The town of 1,200 year-round residents is divided by a near-vertical 50 meter (164 foot) cliff between the area at sea level and the plateau of the higher ground. The plateau is reached either by elevator (at a small price) or flights of steps. We chose to walk as it is not a great difference in elevation and the stairways zig-zag up the slope. When we reached Uberland, we came across a small male singing group performing in front of a couple dozen people seated in front of a duty-free shop where they were enjoying the music and flights of whisky for 40 euros each.

Musical entertainment for whisky loving tourists

As soon as we arrived on the open cliff tops, we were literally almost blown away by the strong wind which sometime pushed us backwards or sideways. However, despite the breeze, it was warm. Admiring the steep red sandstone cliffs at the base of which are sea walls all along the coast, we made it to the northwest part of the small island where seabirds nest, the 2.7 acre nature reserve Lummenfelsen. Over 400 bird species have been recorded on this isolated island. Peter and I had been here on these cliffs three months ago, on June 5, and observed the guillemots and northern gannets (the largest sea birds in the North Atlantic) clinging to the sides of the cliffs and nesting on the exposed tops. By early June, the guillemots, which arrive in mid-April and nest on the cliff faces, have produced their young and by the middle of the month all of the hatchlings, not yet able to fly, leap off the cliffs into the sea, where their parents wait for them. Now, the guillemots are gone. However, to our elation, the adult northern gannets are till present--along with their young.

The gannets have a longer breeding season, and the young are practically the size of the adults before they can soar and fly. When we were here in June, the parents--over 700 breeding pairs--were sitting on the closely placed mound nests, having started the nesting process in late March or April using seaweed, plants, earth and debris from the sea, largely collected by the males. Only one egg per pair is laid, although a replacement egg may be produced if one is lost. Now, the eggs have hatched, having been incubated for 42 to 46 days. 

The adults are stunning in form and color. They have white plumage with black to dark-brown wingtips. The head and neck are tinged buff-yellow, a hue which becomes more pronounced in breeding season. Fine black lines separate the parts of the head, including the mandible, forehead and throat. The beaks are a very light shade of blue. The fascinating eyes are surrounded by black bare skin and have a cobalt outer ring and a light gray-blue iris. The four toes of the feet are joined by a dark gray to dark brown. Distinct lines that are greenish-yellow in males and blue in females run along the tops of the toes. The wings of the northern gannet are long and narrow and are positioned towards the front of the body, allowing efficient use of air currents. 

Adult caring for its baby who is still losing its down

Details of a northern gannet's head

Throat view

Male adult with is baby

Soaring northern gannets

Closely spaced nests

In contrast to the sleek whiteness of the adults, the plumage of the young is dark-brown to slate-gray with fluffy tufts of down; their beaks are black and their feet are a muddy brown color. Born featherless, they grow a thick, wooly layer of white down within the first two weeks. This is gradually replaced by darker plumage flecked with triangular-shaped spots, one at the end of each feather. When we saw them yesterday, the juveniles were in various stages of losing their fluffy feathers. The adults feed the young until they are ready to launch into flight and go to the sea, 84 to 97 days after hatching. 

It was a thrill to watch the adults hanging almost motionless close to the cliff, almost effortlessly, it seemed, holding their place in the high winds. As in June, it was with reluctance that I left the cliffs to continue on our walk. We passed over to the lee side of the island and walked down a long stairway to North Beach, where the sand is dotted with red rocks and bricks and seaweed lines the shoreline where sandpipers hunt for food until disturbed by our presence, taking to the air in undulating flight low over the water. We walked along the east side of the island to return to the dock. Along the way, our sense of smell was entranced by the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, including common tansy and rock samphire.

Guillemot at North Beach

North Beach on Helgoland

Common tansy by the waterfront

Rock samphire 

Yesterday evening, we had dinner at a restaurant called Pizza or Pasta Brun, which was quite good. Peter and Rob enjoyed large bottles of German beer. On the way back to our boat, we made a slight detour in the harbor area to see His Danish Majesty's Yacht, the Dannebrog. We had seen her anchored in Copenhagen. Talking to a couple crew members on watch, we learned that she was on her way to Belgium when a detour was necessitated by the funeral of King Harald of Norway in Oslo, scheduled to take place on September 9. She is a gorgeous vessel, painted cream white and golden-yellow with a clipper bow and an elliptical stern. She was commissioned in 1932 by Queen Alexandrine.

The Dannebrog

A few hours have passed since I began this post. Rob and Peter returned and we had a healthy lunch of salad. Now the wind is howling at 30 mph from the west with gusts to 37, and the rain continues. The boat is swaying with the choppy waves in the harbor and the force of the wind, the fenders creaking against the dock.