DAY TWENTY-SIX - RYE TO BRIGHTON

"Teal" and "ConTTentment" high and dry on the mud at Rye

We all enjoyed a leisurely start this morning, and took a taxi into Rye to check the boats and spend the morning being tourists.  Poor "Teal" and "ConTTentment" looked rather dejected lying like abandoned toys in the mud.  However, they had been moored with plenty of length on the lines and were absolutely fine, so we were able to rest easy and venture out to explore.
It was a lovely day in Rye, cooler than previous days, but with plenty of sunshine, and we enjoyed wandering the maze of cobbled streets lined with an intriguing mixture of medieval and Georgian buildings.  With its winding lanes and proximity to the sea via its meandering river it was easy to see the attraction of Rye to smugglers and criminals centuries ago.  


Gerald Dodson explored a link to Rye's past which led us to the Town Hall to be privately shown the remains of a murderer whose body was hung in a gibbet on the marsh as a warning to others.  Fortunately our connection was a lot more recent and less ghoulish, in the shape of Anthony's parents who had travelled over from Pluckley to welcome us with a delicious lunch!    It felt strange to actually have time to kill for a change, as the only sadness of this amazing trip has been that we have had such a limited amount of time to relax and explore.

The beautiful cobbled streets of Rye

All dressed up and no-where to go - we wait for the tide that
will allow us to make our way to Brighton

In fact, we ended up with rather more time on our hands than anticipated!  Having been informed that the tide would have risen enough for us to depart about 2.00pm, no way was there enough water for us to take our leave, and in fact we were unable to get away much before 3.30pm.
Once we had crept down the river back to the open sea, having gently wound its way out, the river suddenly straightens towards the outlet to the sea, lined with a regimental guard of honour of marker buoys in a dead straight line.  The effect is very similar to being on an airport runway, straight and deliciously smooth, I was tempted to "take off" but stuck to the 6 knot limit (well....nearly!), but we could all see in the distance the tell-tale flick of white horses' tails which told us a spirited ride was around the corner.  Quickly donning our helmets, we were not altogether surprised when we were met with the reality of what had been forecast away from the protection of the river - a good Force 5, maybe 6, pretty much on the nose, made for challenging driving, and poor Gerald was very much thrown in (not literally, thank goodness!) at the deep end.

We battled our way around the coast, and just off Beachy Head the sea was actually quite big.  I felt we were clawing our way up some of the waves, hanging on precariously on the vertical before heaving over onto the downward side.  Desperately I tried to remember what we had been taught about driving up the face of the waves, and throttling back to come down the other side, but sometimes the next ghastly wall of water faced you before you had a chance to push the throttle forward again and you were caught in the bottom of one huge wave with another looming over you.  Coupled with the fact that you were rounding a headland, which obviously requires a certain amount of distance, and the  alarming presence of lobster pots thrown into this maelstrom for good measure, it made for an unnerving mix.
Having made it through, it was then a gruesome battering ride into Brighton Marina, the beauty of the sunset seemed rather ironic, offset by the unrelenting, uncomfortable and unforgiving sea - nature at her most lovely and most confrontational all in the same moment of time.
I kept thinking back to the days of incredibly calm seas we have just had - it was as if we had been given the chance to stroke a particularly beautiful tame tiger, who had lain back and enjoyed our solicitous attention, before becoming rather bored of our fussing, and had started to quietly growl and show her claws.  The sea was again reminding us of her incredible power, and we were being reminded in no uncertain terms to have some respect!
Arriving at Brighton Marina, one is immediately embraced with the efficiency and modernity of a thoroughly 21st century marina.  The relief at making landfall was doubled at the sight of David Bertie meeting us on the quay, and tripled by the sight of Charlie Fane-Trefusis at supper!  These previous members of the Take Two RIBs adventure have made it to Brighton to join us on the final leg, and it is a real boost to morale to have them with us for the final run.  Gerald Dodson has left us at Brighton, - a wise man, going on the forecast which doesn't make for happy reading.  We are going to have to earn our stripes on the homeward leg, and hence the 5.15am alarm call from the hotel!  Ouch!
Our teacher and mentor Bob Elliott from Quality Time phoned tonight to wish us well on our homeward run - and we logged his advice to start early and get into port before the worst of the winds start to build later in the day.  It was lovely to know he has been following our progress, and as neither of us had the first idea how to drive a RIB before we undertook our course with him in June, he has a lot to answer for!!
We are planning to arrive at Southampton Dry Stack tomorrow afternoon at 2.30pm.  It is hard to believe that this fantastic chapter is coming to a close.

Distance travelled:  42.7 nautical miles
Time travelling:  3 hours 5 minutes
Average speed:  13.7 knots
Total trip:  2,089 nautical miles