Brightlingsea, Essex

One’s view of Essex is somewhat tarnished with the thought of the M25, dreary towns like Brentford and Essex boys entertaining the local girls in over-revved Vauxhall Corsas with excessively large exhausts

Brightlingsea and the surrounding coast is a revelation. This sleepy side of Essex has interesting beaches, colourful beach huts and the traditional waterfront retains many old fishing and trading barges, mostly converted to private use, but still with gleaming varnish, tan sails and frighteningly long bowsprits. The modern world is coming, with new apartments and a marina, but the awkward journey into London has prevented this place becoming an overpriced commuter town.

We arrived here after the best sailing we’ve had all season – a beautiful force 3 to 4 from the North sped us down to Walton on a gentle run, then round the corner onto a wonderful broad reach. I sat reading my book, with the autopilot minding the helm, and just enjoyed the day. Ty Dewi was revelling in the conditions and scooting along at 8 knots, a creaming bow wave and happy gurgling noises as the water ran past our stern under my comfortable perch on the aft platform.

Gesa and the kids had long since gone for a well deserved afternoon nap when the buoy for the Colne River hove into view and it was with sadness that we furled the sails, turned on the engine and motored up the river to find a berth. A little discussion with the harbour master finally required me to be honest and admit that yes, we were more like 52 feet, not 48, what with the davits and all that, but this common negotiation was done in good heart and they happily found us a double space at one of the pontoons, helped us turn in the narrow gap and took our lines. Excellent service, and all for £12 a night. Solent yachties, eat yer heart out.



Dinner was followed by a trip ashore for the family, whilst our crew, Thea, had sometime to herself and minded the boat. We pootled off in the dinghy to the nearest beach and had a happy hour and a half wading in the sea and watching the sun go down. Just perfect.

The evening stillness and moonless night brought stars galore, and I watched a lonely satellite traverse the sky above me. The calm was only broken by the plaintive calls of the gulls and oyster catchers, and the distant flatulence of some local boy’s Vauxhall Corsa on the seafront.