Scarborough - Spurn Head, Humber - 6th September

A dull grey morning with drizzle accompanies the noisy seagulls that have, overnight, regurgitated their stomach contents and emptied their bowels on the pontoon. Neat packages of bones many with plastic film suggest refuse raiding; dropping off my rubbish and keys, on tiptoes to avoid these smelly landmines keeps me focused.

  A call to Port Control for permission to leave and I’m off; a run of 58 miles to Spurn Head on the cards. Pushing tide for the first three hours was a struggle despite engine and sail doing their very best to break 4knots; the sea knocking way off; just as you're on the cusp of progress; Filey Brigg, the headland and target, remains mist shrouded and distant. Once passed, Falmborough Head appears as the next waypoint, a rough old spot if ever there was one. Today was no different; very rough; but the tide suddenly came good and within a minute we were averaging 6 knots and trying to helm through dozens of pots strategically placed and largely submerged in the current and standing waves, to catch you out. Two did and I went over the top of them; engine by now off! It was 13:30 as I just missed the last one; accompanied by two fishing vessels that came out of the mist to wave and wonder; returning to Scarborough.
   The next 5 hours of sailing was a joy; great progress without Mr Yanmar warbling in the background. The coastline desperately dull; the wind by some miracle of fortune from the SSW, against all predications.
  One extraordinary event took place. A huge Black Backed Seagull came and flew with me. I could have stretched out and touched it, so close it came. It stayed for minutes; sometimes off the stern, then in the billow of the mainsail then in front of the mast using the draft from the staysail and jib. Effortless progress and total mastery of flight as its head turned this way and that hunting, accompanied by a slight watery dribble from its beak. Such a pristine example of evolution would be hard to envisage. A winged angel had paid me a visit.
   I’m quite sure a thousand fishermen have seen the same thing; for me however as a lonely sailor, it was very special.
  Spurn Head came into view just as the watery sun gave up and sank. Darkness followed alarmingly quickly. Although the land ends; there’s a huge submerged bank to avoid before you can tuck up in the curl; behind the Pilot’s Jetty and moored RNLI Lifeboat. 3 hours later I at last dropped the anchor after battling the formidable ebb tide and entry race; I’d missed my tide slot! Had I arrived an hour earlier; all would have been well. As it was I dropped the anchor with the engine still running, in gear and holding course on the autohelm; but going backwards slowly; in five meters of water, I scoped out 20 meters of chain! It would be embarrassing to drag anchor in the Humber Pilots Powerful launches; worse the Lifeboat! Cutting the engine the chain went forward into the depths at an alarming angle. The Boat Speed still reading 3 knots; as it dug in.
   Tired but thrilled, I set about supper. The Full Monty cooked;  a chilled Speckled or two already consumed, as I watched things brown; before sitting down. The next minute my world went mad. Some passing tanker or vessel set me rocking on my beam ends. Diving for my glass that shot across the table meant I missed the plate and glass. Both ended up on my bed, fortunately separately. The food back on the plate the beer lost; all sponged up with no stains as I’m scotchguarded - it’s worth every penny.
  Sleep interrupted by the same event twice. Not a spot I’d recommend; but a fantastic launch pad for tomorrow......