Trip advisor 6 star review

The forecast for the weekend DCA rally to Newton Creek was not good. But careful use of the tides should get me there and critically back if I launch from Buckler’s Hard

The river is a lovely sail, upwind but helped but by the tide.

Few hours later I’m right in the middle of the Solent when the is a thunderous roar as ballistic missiles pass first to port then to starboard. I’m right in the middle of the Round the Island powerboat race, these where the class 1s (the winners did an average of 115mph) I’m now in a cloud of smoke and spray hidden from the oncoming raw of the slower boats. The video is the tail enders. It was my scariest sailing moment ever.

I sail to Lymington and the fearing the wind will die so scoot off to Newton Creek. I make quick plans to walk along the beach to meet the friend I learnt to sail with nearly fifty years ago. Only problem being that there is no path along the beach. Some swimming is involved.

I’m very wet and a bit muddy as my friend offers me the cream leather seats of his pristine BMW. After a couple of pints and good chat he drops be of to walk a closed path over the salt marshes to the Gull. Glorious and with out incident.

On the beach are two DCA members and I’m not given a choice but to drink a beaker of wine, followed by a second. More good chat as the sun sets. In the twilight I row to the far end of the anchorage for the night. A perfect day.

The view is glorious in the morning, a seal swims by and there is wind. It’s high tide so I explore all corners of the creek.

I pull into the beach near the entrance to sort myself out before crossing. As I’m doing so a magnificent little gaff cutter sails in expertly, I go and complement the lady skipper and we get into a long chat about how she fitted it out from a bare hull, I say it looks like Shoal Waters and she says it’s a replica and we talk of sailing books. She then comes over to look at the Gull and was rather surprised I had slept on it and come from Buckler’s Hard, she was very complimentary noticing all the modifications. Then see rather meaningfully wished me luck. Out in the Solent I realised she was a rather famous record breaking sailor.

The wind was due to die and I headed straight to Buckler’s Hard, against the tide we made slow headway and close inshore I let the Gull self steer and had a few micro naps.

Bang on the plan, I’d made on Wednesday, after five hours sailing, I was in the Beaulieu River just as the tide started to flood. At that point, bonus, the sea breeze kicked in