One of my aims this summer (any summer really) is to fly the kite (spinnaker) at least once. Up till now we had been unsuccessful - either due to no wind, wind from the wrong direction or too much wind.

We had planned to spend the End of Summer Bank Holiday cruising to the Deben. Real life (a dinner appointment on Friday) interfered. To cross the Deben Bar we would have had to leave before 7 in the morning. No, thank you. A daysail on Saturday would have been pointless too - no wind - at all! As Brigitte was working on Monday, that only left Sunday.

The forecast said N-NW 2-3. Just the ticket. Rig as much as possible whilst still on the mooring. Drift downriver (main only) till Shotley Spit and then start hoisting the kite and it would be pretty much downhill from there. Landguard and Medusa. Possibly a beat up to Cork Sand and back in from there. That was the plan; but as usual...

We left home about ten. Drive up the A12 took a bit longer than usual - I guess more people wanted to take advantage of the nice weather (for once). We had reports, from people lucky enough to be out there already, of a very nice N 3.
We launched Guapi dead on HW. And we didn't even bother to put our oilies on. Not a ripple on the Orwell and not much wind. The river sure was busy - it felt like we were crossing the M25.

Brigitte prepared lunch and the kids gave me a hand getting the kite and all its gear out. And there was just so much of it, and big. Yanita's spinnaker was just about manageable, but Guapa's in a different league altogether. We had it flying only once before - in January - in 2kts of wind. It didn't set too well, but I had wanted to make sure all the gear was there.

After a very quick lunch we were ready - kite (in snuffer) hoisted, sheets and downhaul rigged, boom - one heavy bastard - in place,... Good to go.
We let slip with minimum fuss and pointed Guapa downriver. And then... the wind shifted to dead on the nose. Something was not right here. Someone had seen us coming. Thinking on my feet: if it's on the nose downriver, it should make for perfect upriver sailing. So much for planning.

Brigitte by the helm, kids and I on the foredeck: let's get us flying! Two quick shouts, some agile maneuvering, snuffer up, finished with engines and relax. A thing of true beauty. Just a couple of knots of apparent wind, but the spinnaker set nicely. We were running dead downwind. From time to time the wind shifted 10 degrees either side, but I did not gybe the spinnaker - not with a boom that size.

We continued our merry way upriver without much fuss. It looked quite busy, lots of small racing boats about, but they did not bother us at all. Like Moses parting the Red Sea. It's a lot of work to set up, and a handful to control at times, but I find kite flying so very satisfying. It says something about boat and crew - great teamwork!



I had hoped to keep the kite up all the way to the Orwell Bridge, and we nearly managed it. Half a mile off the wind got a bit erratic and there was just too much traffic about. With some regret I started the engine and went forward to recover the kite. Brigitte and Yanni joined me - Evita was at the helm. Again, the minimum amount of fuss. Like we did this every day.
Downriver was all motoring, but I did not mind that much. That warm inner glow was still with me. We met Jolie Brise along the way - they had been unable to get us on camera, but were available for drinks later. So, not all bad then.

We had left Guapi on the mooring, and someone (me) had forgotten to tilt up the outboard. Bit if a tangled mess. First approach: drop off Evita in Guapa. She then untangled the mess. Second approach: pick up buoy and recover Number One child in Guapi. So, in all, it took five minutes more than it should have. My bad.

In celebration we cracked open a bottle of champagne. I had bought the bottle for a different occasion, but this was good too. A toast to "The Family" and that was it. Sit back, relax and watch the world go by. Yanni had a shot of champagne but quickly switched to Ice Tea. Evita was not too keen either - too grapy. Brigitte only had two glasses as she was driving. Guess who made the ultimate sacrifice?

Trip back ashore (with the last of the General Stores) supplies was uneventful. Tender recovered in no time, car loaded up and we were on our way home. A stop at Fox's first. We had a bottle of fine French rose to share. Courtesy of Le Shoppi in Dieppe.
Wine and beer on the good ship Jolie Brise. Last of the day's sun, in pleasant company. Not a bad day, not a bad day at all. Tastes like more - a lot more.