Frost first thing on Sunday morning. And when I say first thing, I mean first thing. I was booked in for a return to rowing with a sun rise session taking place.
We had two crews braving the conditions as the first light started to appear down at the Sailing Club. The first task was to break the ice that had formed on top of the boat covers.
What could possibly go wrong?
Erm…
This was an ‘eventful’ row. My last eventful row was when we had to be rescued after drifting out to sea as part of the Round Mersea race.
Sunday morning was equally eventful, and for similar reasons.
What takes place in the boat, stays in the boat etc. And so I shall be careful here. But after only ten minutes we found ourselves stranded on a bloody mud bank.
Talk about mud flaps, etc.
The stranded boat rapidly became a beached boat. Time and tide waits for no one. Within the space of five minutes we had become an island, with further space forming all around us as the water headed back downstream.
“Anyone got any ideas?”
We did, but none of them proved to actually work.
Random phone calls were made. We all knew deep down that we had to be rescued. We couldn’t risk walking on the Estuary Wilds mud over to the riverbank.
This distance between us and any dry land was now around 30m. You’d rather be stranded in a solid boat with others, than be a singular stick in the mud under freezing conditions.
At least we had daylight. And it wasn’t raining.
Always look for the positives, Jase.
Morale was high, even if the temperature wasn’t. I suspect we all knew that we were in deep trouble, and in deep mud.
I started to dance to try and keep warm. I somehow clocked up 10k steps in an hour from moving around in the boat.
The emergency supplies were called for. I wrapped myself up like a Christmas Day turkey in the bacofoil blanket. It proved to be a saviour for me.
The call went out to the RNLI. We didn’t know when they would come, or what their plan was.
Around half an hour later and they rocked up from Mersea. We could see they were struggling with a rescue plan as well.
Please don’t call the choppers. I can’t handle heights. And please don’t let the local telly news folk know about this, either.
No pictures, and it didn’t happen, right?
The RNLI crew were joined by the Sailing Club rescue boat. They knew the local waters and conditions inside out. Their advice was invaluable.
Some absolute HERO from RNLI then entered the water, made his way over to the mud and crawled on all fours carrying a guide rope. It’s all about spreading your centre of gravity, innit.
I had now warmed up, sky high on the adrenalin of seeing that help was at hand. But there was no way I was crawling around in the mud wearing my best KRONK trackies.
The plan was to attach the guide rope to our boat, and then receive a tug from the RNLI boat.
This won’t work. We were in a bloody heavy boat with five crew. But who are we to argue with the professionals?
Hang on.
We’re bloody moving!
We cut a path through the Estuary Wild mud. Soon we reached the water and we were floating once again. We all cheered.
The Sailing Club boat towed us back to base whilst the RNLI headed in the opposite direction back to Mersea.
We felt a little sheepish as we approached the town once again. It might have been Sunday morning, but there were a number of Sunday strollers on the banks who had been snapping away.
I daren’t look at the local Facebook group later in the day.
Other cub members were at the Sailing Club. They kindly offered us steaming hot tea, kind words and rum.
Chin chin.
No one was hurt, and we had quite a tale to tell. We also now know which organisation we will be raising funds for during the next club event.
The RNLI mud crawler fella was amazing.
Now wash your hands, mate.
The rest of Sunday was an anti-climax. I got cleaned up back at base, and then listened to Forest in the FA Cup.
Meh.