Norman Unconquered…25.02.2012

Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together? My wife mumbled something like that once but that’s irrelevant. Anyhow, the first part of the plan went like clockwork in that I made it out of bed…it was then that things began their downwards trend.

My mug, my oversized mug, my bone china mug with the fish on it was missing. It is known to contain just the right amount of early launch caffeine so I was not overly impressed at my incompetence. I had to settle for less but with the same three spoons of Gold blend in it. I downed it and left the house. I left the house as I’d left my lighter around a friend’s house. Strike two. Things then stabilised and I made it to Hopton only five minutes late and before the others.

Tim pitched up soon after I started unloading. I was on a short session so should have been rushing to get launched and maximise the time on the water but low water was only half an hour before so I’d only end up anchoring during slack anyway. No, nice and gentle easing in was called for. Tim, missing since before Christmas, was also in no rush and nor was Si when he pitched up a few minutes later.



It seemed that things were improving, the sea was flat with just a gentle wave breaking onto the shore and the sky was beautifully clear, the sun just starting to come up. We wandered down the ramp together.



I launched before the others, only by a few minutes. They may have thought it a bit antisocial but I needed to find the spot. Today’s plan was to hit a wreck and fish that, an inshore wreck that was quick and easy to get to. I had the co-ordinates on my pc but not punched into my plotter but was also aware that they were around the area of the black buoy and the dan just to its north. The current was off slack now and would be against me once it started to run but for now things were easy enough. I reached the buoy and paddled in a straight line towards the dan. Nothing showed on the sounder. Funny. I came back again, twenty metres inshore; again nothing. I spotted a couple of fish returns but not the hump that I knew was there from previously paddling over it. The others had joined me now and I made one last pass twenty metres offshore. Nothing.



We headed uptide from the dan and dropped anchor. My new dive reel, a large capacity McMahon, worked beautifully as the anchor dropped down and hooked in quickly. There was so little tide that I had to pay line out for a bit before grabbing my rods. The worms I’d left to rot last weekend had dried out instead, this was not good as they wouldn’t be sticking their scent out and were solid on the hook so I couldn’t add to them. Oh well, a bit of squid on the end and a soaking would see me right, right? Both wishbones went out and down to the bottom.



I sat there for maybe quarter of an hour before the first little tap. Little tap being the best description. There were a few of them but all I had to show for my wait on retrieval was weed and plastic. Great. The tide was picking up quickly now, flooding to the south and as the water level rose the dan started to go lower in the water until finally it was submerged. As I sat there I kept looking at the patch of water to our south that appeared to be behaving differently. There was something down there and my bet was the Norman. Having spent a riveting hour already I decided to haul anchor and head for it. I know very little about the Norman other than it was some sort of fishing boat that got caught up and went under, that’s it. Google hasn’t been much use either and I’d like to know the story.

The McMahon worked a treat and as I started lifting the anchor straight up beneath me a long liner from Yarmouth turned up. Friendly chaps, we all had a chat and then, as he headed off, I wondered how he managed to disturb the water so much, Tim was thinking the same and then I twigged that we had drifted right over the wreck and this was the turbulence created downtide of it. We paddled north and I spotted her on the sounder, switched on now. Past I went and down went the anchor. The hump was raised about 6ft off the bottom


Things didn’t go quite to plan, again. The tide was starting to rip through pretty fast by now and I was in somewhat turbulent water. It wasn’t really the ideal time to have a stainless ring on the anchor system catch on part of my rod holder. I knew there was a problem – sitting side on to the tide and not being able to shuttle either way usually indicates something going t1ts up – but it took a while to identify the cause and by the time it was rectified I was past the wreck although my anchor wasn’t. Too late now, I started to fish alongside Tim and Si.





Things got off to a great start, I dropped down and had nothing but felt the deflected water knocking me about a bit. Okay…best I switch ends and fish uptide. I reeled in and spun myself around in double-quick time. I cast out, let my line run off the reel and then untangled it from the anchor warp and reeled in again. I cast over to my left instead. The second rod went down and I waited for the fish.



They didn’t pitch up so I reeled in a panty liner instead. Tim suggested I might get a tope on it. Back to my first rod and I failed to land the Norman. I broke out instead. I’d suspected a loss or two but had forgotten my spare rigs and ponced one off Tim before launch in case of need. I should have checked really, my rigs attach straight to the mainline, his to the swivel below the zip slider. Hurrah for cable ties! I baited up again and cast into the boiling soup around me.

Every now and then the water would suddenly accelerate and the water around me would roll up into a heaving mass; standing waves, fortunately small, would form and back-eddies would appear. It was really quite a thing to observe from the middle of it but to be honest I’d far rather have been observing cod. Not today though and with an hour and a bit left I decided to haul up and hit the usual mark. I wound in and then pulled my anchor reel back. I pulled myself up to the anchor and sure enough it was stuck fast as expected. I flipped the warp over the front cleat and heaved, the nose dipped and I felt the weak link give and then slack – I couldn’t believe it and pulled the warp in, hand over hand, as fast as I could. I had my anchor back!

I wound the line back onto the reel and paddled the 200 yards back to the others who’d been alongside. They also began to haul anchor but both were stuck fast. I pootled around with the sonar building my mental image up and then rafted up with Tim; it wasn’t budging and he cut loose. I went over to Si and rafted up again; also stuck solid. An empty bottle was tied on, above the buoy as water was coming over the side now and his anchor trolley had gone u/s, and he also cut free. The buoy was tantalisingly in view and, as it was mine anyway, I was having it back! I paddled up to it, looking for all the world like the barrels shot into Jaws and flipped the warp over my cleat. I pulled it into my lap and hauled the warp up tight so as to not leave a load of it floating round in people’s way, cleated it off, retied the bottle and flicked it over the side to be pulled straight under. 2 litres of air. X, however, marks the spot and the bass aren’t far away now…

We paddled in having drifted in no time to the usual mark. We’d fannied around for too long and it was time to land so headed straight for the ramp. A lone angler was in the bay and as we came in, tight up the groyne to avoid getting in his way, he rubbed salt into our wounds by pulling in a codling. Or codlet. Well undersize anyway but more than the three of us had caught over on the Norman.

We walked up the ramp, got loaded up and as I tightened the straps I saw a guy wandering down the lane pulling a kayak…someone new? No! Someone old, it was Pinkfoot, coming out of hibernation to show us how it’s done. It must be getting on for a couple of years since we’ve hooked up and it was as pity I had to run so soon…I pointed out the spot we’d been on and I pointed out the fleet at Corton to where he headed and where I’ll be tomorrow.

Broads 45 pounder…19.02.2012

I was up at 5. I was at the beach at 530. It was fine – gentle waves at Lowestoft so I headed for Hopton; we’d had this plan, the forecast being unreadable and unbelievable in equal measures. It was a case of surf if possible or fish if it went the other way – both good plans. Failing that Beccles for the pike or Lake Lothing for the tour and a stretch. So I sent out the text and went to Hopton; the plan to head for Corton and try and please possibly perhaps get anchored in a good spot and catch some of that shoal that’s feeding in the area.

That was the plan. I parked up at Hopton, got out and thought ‘Oh’. I walked to the top of the ramp…there was no beach, tide still on the rise but it was up to the concrete already and, regularly, over as the waves dumped ten yards short, big, fast and powerful. Nope, it wasn’t happening. I turned and headed home, Si being unable to come at the last minute and nothing heard from Mike (my fault, I sent out the pm too late).

I got home, no surf. I went upstairs with another coffee and typed up the day before. The good news was I’d be around for a rare weekend breakfast and my youngest was making it to order for everyone and would require help. Muesli, yoghurt and fruit loaf for mum and then her first go out frying with some bacon sarnies for her, her sister and myself…and a plate of sautéed whiting roe for me as well. Went down well and needed walking off so I got the girls dressed and we went down to the beach. The waves were still not enough for the Rrrapido. We went back and I milled around a bit. Fine, I’d wait for the flood – if it was going to turn on it’d be about 2-3pm. Flo and the girls were heading out shortly and I might sneak a paddle in first…but no, change of plan. Mum was roasting and did we want to come for tea? Yes we did but that meant I’d be looking after the girls all afternoon while my wife worked. So what then, where could I waste a quick and easy hour?

I pulled up at Oulton broad, unloaded my Necky by the slipway and parked the van – free parking from 31st October to 1st March here. I popped my deck on over my drysuit, put my kayak in the water and climbed in, my spinning rod with me so I could practice casting my new baitcaster with a Rapala Skitterpop. I paddled out in glorious sunshine and high winds and played dinghy-chicken as I headed for the dead end. Perhaps I should have put the sail on the Scupper…oh well.

I got down there and out of the main blow, start to flick the popper out when suddenly…it’s back to me. Hmm, maybe over there? Same again. Again. Again. Fair enough, I’ll try elsewhere. The water was the highest I’ve seen it so maybe a popper isn’t the best choice but the fishing is secondary anyway, last thing I want is a smelly Necky! I try further along. Same result. I move again and then, with no joy, head off on the troll with a small Rapala I’d brought knowing I’d get bored casting!



I paddled up the side of the broad, nice and slow, the rod twitching. I goit to the top, turned and carried on to the other side. I drifted now, didn’t need to paddle. A good, steady walking pace maintained all the way down as I failed to get a bite. I spotted a trace hanging from the deck of a boat and retrieved a spoon though just before landing, it was my lucky day!



I landed. I walked to the van, I’d been out maybe an hour. My luck ran out then as I spotted the parking charge notice affixed to my windscreen. It would seem that the free parking has been abolished in favour of enraging a quarter of the people who leave their vehicles in a handy but muddy location.

I wish I’d braved the shore dump; it’d have been cheaper.

Getting Fresh…18.02.2012

After last week’s blank and after the lack of cod on my yak and with the charter boats nailing them in the same place I made the rare decision to get some fresh worm for once. Friday afternoon, as I’m leaving work I call up a shop and ask if they have some – they do. Are they good? Yes he tells me. So I drive there. Nice shop, loads of sparkly stuff and so on and to be fair he was telling the truth, they were good worms – dug that day, fresh and firm. We have a differing opinion of good though and to me a good worm is not something that would barely fill a size 1 hook which seemed to be the case with a good 3/5 of my 25 lug…I should have gone for his fresh blacks I guess. Perhaps I’m spoiled by the big old snakes that I usually get out of my freezer and expect too much but I’d rather buy by weight to be honest, far fairer. Anyway, I handed over my fiver to a pleasant guy and walked out after a pleasant browse.

So there I am at 04:00 pressing the snooze button for another ten minutes in bed before finally dragging myself down towards the jar of Gold Blend. Sounds a bit windy outside, it’s not just the lug that are fresh. I’m not meeting anyone so don’t hurry things and it’s not until 05:45 that I get down to the launch, on the water for 6am. It’s a stiff old breeze alright, a Force 4 gusting 6 when I checked before leaving the house, but from the south west it was do-able. With high water timed at 06:27 I was originally intending to head south with the remnants of the flood to fish Corton but conditions would not allow a dash for cover there if it picked up and I had strict instructions to be home by ten…I paddled uptide instead and anchored 500 northeast of the ramp at Hopton. The wind pointed my nose out to sea regardless of the current. I heard old matey boy the seal clear its nose ten yards away and looked around just to see the swirl as he dived again; I was in an area with fish then. I’d left the electronics once again and just positioned myself on the regular spot by dead reckoning.

My worms came out of the baitbox and they were still lovely and firm, juicy without being watery and I stuck one on each hook of the wishbone rig of my right-hand rod, tipped with a bit of unwashed squid. The left had some manky, smelly, rotten black lug remaining from last week that I’d not removed from the hooks. This sounds grim and lazy but is my secret weapon – bottom feeders are scroungers and pick up whatever protein they find on the sea bed especially after rough weather and the rotten stuff has been quite effective for bites of late. I just tipped it with some squid and chucked that out too.

It didn’t take long. A couple of minutes maybe? Then in came the first whiting. I’ve seen hardly any of these since the start of the year and it reinforced my view that fresh lug won’t get as far as the cod finding it without bags of luck. Anyway, it was a bit light and went back.



Then the manky rod went and I pulled in another. I had more on each bait (the fresh lug holding up really well, better than any I’ve had before) before removing the remains of worm sludge and threading some frozen blacks up the hooks on that rod. Back out it went. It was maybe 06:30 by now and just starting to get lighter.



By the time the tide stopped running, about an hour after high water, I’d landed 11 whiting and kept 7 but had loads of others I’d not struck and some I’d missed; I was waiting for cod bites. One rod now had big baits, whole squid, quite large ones on each of the two hooks and for a good few minutes it was rattling away with whiting and then it all went quiet for half an hour or more as it swung around and started to go back up towards Yarmouth. I used the time wisely in gutting my catch; every one had roe in them, a nice appetiser for me.

Soon after 08:00 the rod tips started going back to work and the whiting started coming aboard again. Then I heard the roar of engines as Marty pitched up to say good morning – the wind had held the sound away until he was only a couple of hundred yards away. We had a good old natter before he spun in close for my camera and headed off at high speed for his usual mark.



It was 08:30 now and the wind had picked up, it was now a 6 gusting 7 and the swell had built with the reversal of the current. I was comfortable though, no chop and no swinging…I called up High Flyer when I saw them on their way out and was touched by Jon’s concern: “Are you alright in that thing?” ;D I was but to be fair darkness hides a lot of the concerns! Sadly the kettle wasn’t on yet but he swung by for the camera as well, throttling back to keep his wash down even though I could have done with one to get the squid out of my hair. As he passed I brought in the second double shot of the morning.



I gave it another half an hour, deciding to go on twenty if I could and that last one was a good’un, meaty and full of roe. I stowed my gear, spun the kayak around in the usual manner (quick release binned after reinforcing my negative opinion of it) hauled anchor and headed back to shore, straight into the wind and across/against the tide. A good workout to be sure. There was nothing on the beach though and I parked up softly…I got back home on time too.
Epilogue.
I’d rationed my fresh lug too well, I still had a good dozen of the smaller ones left. Fair enough, I’d see if the girls fancied going down to the pier in the afternoon – they did. It started to drizzle just before we left and by the time we’d fished for half an hour it was pissing down. Nothing was biting either.



We sat in the car for a while and just before four we jumped out and brought the rods in just as Cleveland Princess returned to port.



Abigail had done me proud though, no fish came to us but she did snag up on a very pretty and fresh rig – a big yellow Gemini breakout lead tied up to a Portland rig, all on yellow line. A perfect match to my van and kayak…I took it home, untangled it and explained to the girls exactly how it worked…I’m such an anorak!

Snow F in Fish…12/02/2012

My wife had stopped puking so Cinders could go to the ball and so the alarm was duly set for 5 or something stupid like that. The idea of an early and cold start didn’t fill me with joy but then neither did a dry weekend. So it went off a few hours later and I filled myself with coffee. Then I opened the door.

Great. I had an appointment with a current heading north. I didn’t have the time for this.
I pulled up at Tramps, unloaded and decided to leave the electronics in the van, I wouldn’t be needing them as I knew exactly where I was going. I rolled down the slope without slipping on the snow and made my way to the water’s edge. It was flat, lovely, and I could see a bit already. In I went.

I paddled northeast until I arrived where I wanted to be, lining things up, and dropped anchor on a quick release set-up again. Before making my mind up for good I figured one last test where I’d be hauling against a good tide run was in order. I looked around and saw a seal eyeballing me – yep, the fish must be here then.

I baited up and cast in, wishbones on both rods. I was fishing like a cock with things going wrong from the outset – tangles and stuff, that kind of thing. I called up the coastguard and had a cod bite banging away while I gave them the info…I got off when done, waited for it to develop and develop it did – cod, definite, and it was hooked. I struck. It wasn’t. I cast back in. I still had snow on the yak.



The current slowed. I started to turn with the wind. Nothing was happening on the rods and I sat doing nothing for well over an hour, maybe even longer. I snagged up, I damaged my line and got a crack off, I steadily got colder toes.



Finally I got another bite. I held the rod for a second bite. None came. The tide started to pick up and I became concerned that I wasn’t holding bottom. With the increased current I picked up weed. I added extra lead. The tide was going some already.



I sat for a while longer and then decided enough was enough, I was heading in. So I grabbed the quick release cord for my anchor and started to drag myself up to the now submerged buoy. What a shit way to do things, the turn took ten times as long and then I had to haul the carabiner back and go side on to put the reel the right side of it. My mind is definite now, quick release has no place on my kayak.



I started to haul as Marty headed out on his boat and gave me a bell – I’d been looking forward to the banter but the weed had me outgunned and I came in fishless; bless him though, I have cod for tea tonight – thanks mate!

I walked into a door…05/02/2012

I didn’t want to get up this morning but when I finally did all I could see was a couple of feet of snow. I was undecided on my venue – what to do and where – so decided to not drive off for a paddle but wait instead for the children to get up and take them sledging, hooking up with Si and his family too. This was followed with a trip to the cinema with my youngest, lunch and then I had a call about going sledging and having afternoon tea with another friend and her family…hmm. I could just about get a launch in, one thing I was determined to do as I love seeing the coastline covered in snow.

I rushed around. My drysuit zip has gone but I wasn’t going out in a wetsuit, bib and brace with cag would see me soaked…I put the drysuit on leaving a gap where the knackered zip was. PFD on, boots on and it was time to lift the Necky off and carry it to the beach. A passer-by indicated his feeling towards my mental health state and I launched into a bumpy sea, the first reasonable wave removing all my snow and waking me up; only Vikings do this.



I paddled south, I had an hour so could make Pakefield and back with a bit of playtime. Down I went and though thinking better of it I still went through the pier legs with my arse clenched watertight. Through and into the ramped up waves and onwards. Fiddling with the camera saw me take a hit on the beam but I rode it out and then paddle don, the Kinetic Wing sliding in nicely.



I carried on down enjoying the scene and enjoying the lumpier bits and then, alongside the CEFAS building I turned and headed back. I could see that the sledging crowd wasn’t too thick at the next venue so put my back into it and started heading home.I like paddling close in here, there’s shallow water, dumping waves, bits of foam and rollers and I tend to get quite wet. What I didn’t much like was that bloody sand ridge which ramped one up of to my front and left…maybe I could brace it but if it curled over…it did!



I rolled with it, straight over and my blade hit sand. My hand shoots forward to the loop on the spraydeck and I fail to pull it... I walk into a door then and it reminds me of my favourite Viking helmet; I make a grab for it, feel it and it it’s gone. Fuck! There’s water pouring in through the shoulder too, it’s cold water, maybe 5 degrees and it soaks my hoodies and jeans. My hand shoots back to the deck loop, again it wouldn’t pull. I was scraping bottom here and had been under a good twenty seconds when my head struck bottom again with the next wave. Right, if the lop won’t pull it I’ll need two hands – paddle released, loop pulled back and my other hand grabs the deck itself, I pop out and get a breath, right the kayak and push it ashore with the paddle inside. I leave them and look for my hat.

No dice. I pump out the cockpit and launch again, paddle around the pier and head in through some swell and dumpers; I surf along one and then turn into shore, pop the deck and hop out. I can feel the lump on my forehead and have seen blood on my fingers earlier but the cold saltwater has stopped this pretty quickly.



I lift my Chatham onto my shoulder and carry her back to the car. A pity about my hat but another great blast down the coast.

Snowhere to Go…04/02/2012

There was just no way on earth that I was heading out to fish at anchor today. After last Saturday’s cold kayak and pier sessions I’d come down with something that knocked me on my arse for four days; I don’t take time off work but I didn’t return until Thursday and even then wasn’t fully with it. So no, I couldn’t have one of my silly o’clock starts and sit at anchor for 3 hours before breakfast…least of all because it was a 10 knot south easterly (so choppy) and below freezing. Oh, and snowing.


I’d been racking my brains over what to do anyway. I was going to be out alone and my first idea of a 13 mile paddle up the River Waveney from Beccles to Oulton Broad was put on hold. Second thought was a quick fishing session around the White Swan but that was anchoring and I’d already decided not to do that. Troll Oulton broad or Beccles for pike? Maybe. The tide times would have been alright for heading on the last of the flood to Kessingland and then back over slack and into the start of the flood but it just wasn’t quite the right thing to get my attention; none of them were.


It’s starting to get lighter as I get downstairs and pour a coffee. Then it comes to me, harbour road, a paddle around Lake Lothing. A bit of distance and a bit of sightseeing. It’s a great place to waste a couple of hours if you like to look at boats or enjoy a bit of history. It’s also pretty good for paddling as the water, clear and clean, is pretty sheltered from strong wind and is nice and open without much traffic. Excellent idea. Off I went.


I got a case of Déjà vu. I was here a year ago when we had the first snowfall. That’ll be a tradition now then. I started unstrapping the Necky and looked around as I heard a boat and amidst the flakes Lead Us chugged past with another party of anglers who will no doubt be over the moon with their day. I waved and carried on unstrapping with fingers getting rapidly chilled.



Kayaking, as opposed to kayak fishing, is lightweight and hassle-free. I fish light anyway but I didn’t even need to carry a small amount of kit down to the water nor use a trolley. No, 17ft of composite Chatham on my shoulder and a paddle in my left hand, spray deck already around my waist and PFD on over my cag and bib and brace combi and I was fully kitted. I decided to use my Kinetic Wing again too for the first time in ages. I put my kayak onto the water at the bottom of the slip, got in, sealed off the deck and went out, it’s just that easy.





Paddling out between a sunken boat and the Excelsior I decided to head against tide and wind initially and run up towards the town to cover a bit of distance and get my shoulders loosened up and worked out – my upper back and shoulders seized up for a couple of days when I was off ill so I figured they could do with a stretch. The wind was cutting straight through my fingers and it was painful but there was plenty to see.





I passed the Lydia Eva and Mincarlo tied up on the quayside, I passed the LCT Mark VIII HMAV’s L4073 Ardennes and L4164 Arakan with their opening bow doors, I passed the Sulisker, work to turn her into a throat-warbler-mangrove having stalled, I passed the dry docks and silos and other reminders of Lowestoft’s maritime past and finally I passed Asda, turning around before I got to the Bascule bridge. It was nice to be heading the other way at last and my fingers started to work again. As I paddled back I stopped resisting the temptation to paddle through the jetty supports that were only a few inches wider than the kayak and ran along the side startling pigeons and seabirds from their slumbers.





I crossed the water again to get another look at LT412Mincarlo and YH89 Lydia Eva, the former, a sidewinder trawler, the last of the Lowestoft fishing vessels with an engine built in the town and the latter the last surviving steam-powered herring drifter which summers at South Quay in Great Yarmouth but returns to Lowestoft for winter maintenance. She dates from 1930 and was built in Kings Lynn in 1930. I continued on my way.





The Sulisker, approached head-on, really does have a lovely bow shape and I told myself not to be bloody stupid and paddle between it and the dock; I listened for once. Fooling around and being foolish are two very separate things.





Back to my launch site and I took a better look at the sunken boat. She was a nice looking one that I have grown familiar with over the last couple of years. She might pull some of the peelers away from the beach next summer but should be an easy venue for the hardback smut bait pots…





I passed by LT472 Excelsior and had a proper look too, a lovely shape to her (great arse) and a beauty to watch in full sail. A restored fishing smack built in 1921 and the last surviving sailing trawler I can take a look from her own turf whenever I want.





On down past the moorings and marinas and then off to one partially exposed rack of ribs, the remains of the former YH228 Eadwine, a wooden steam drifter built in great Yarmouth in 1914.





The water was so clear I decided to see what I could pick up on the action cam and answered my question with a load of seaweed which had to be whipped off again.





Back out and I crossed over the water to the ‘beached’ hulk of Probe, MMS 1086, last used as a survey ship operating from Lowestoft in the 1960’s until sold for scrap in March 1969.





I wandered off again, past the inshore fleet’s moorings and turned in to have a closer look at the LT326 MFV Yellowtail and the other wreck alongside her.





Again the water here was clear and I could see the bottom so after a circuit I headed back just to the west to see if I could film whatever it was I’d looked at on the side imaging unit a couple of years before.





I had a good view, from my seat and on the camera but am none the wiser! No bother. Besides, the prize, my favourite was just a few hundred yards away on the other side.


Hang about, what’s that? I looked again, up by the stacks on the yellowtail where the boarding had come away. I’ve found the pinkfoot hiding place! A pair of pinkfoot geese taking shelter from the snow just had to be filmed and so I paddled over for a quick hello.





Then it was across to old 102, 68ft of Honduras mahogany. Okay so I have a fondness for wartime stuff and always have but this is one seriously beautiful boat to look at and I’d first seen her way back in 1980 after I’d been to my first airshow (the Mildenhall Air Fete). She was passing under the bridge near my home back then and I’d only seen her under way once since, sadly not doing the 48 knots she’s capable of. Rather a distinguished lady this, designed in 1936 by the MD of Vosper, Commander Peter Du Cane CBE, she was launched in 1937 and bought by the Admiralty, becoming MTB102. She was the first Motor Torpedo Boat of the modern era and was crewed by 2 Officers and 8 Men. She saw service throughout the war and crossed the English Channel eight times to rescue stranded servicemen from the beaches around Dunkirk, being the third from last to leave, Rear Admiral Wake-Walker’s flagship for the last two nights and is the last remaining Royal Navy vessel still afloat that was present. Later, she carried Winston Churchill and Dwight D. Eisenhower on their review of the D-Day fleet prior to the Allied return to Occupied Europe. and launched in 1937 she was the first of the modern MTB’s., being the third from last boat off the beaches at Dunkerque (having crossed the Channel 8 times and becoming the flagship for Operation Dynamo as it was called). Interestingly, she was involved in the return of Allied Forces to France some four years later too, in a roundabout way. It was MTB 102 that carried Churchill and Eisenhower as they reviewed the ships for the D-Day invasions. Acquired in 1973 by a Sea Scout group she was refurbished for filming of ‘The Eagle Has Landed’ and is often seen on documentaries and in the news.





Well that was it, time for a fast paddle back past the yachts to the slipway and thence to the van…I had a need for coffee and had had my fill of snow.