What a bloody disaster!

The weather has taken a turn for the worst here as that “fine” rain has settled in over the past 24 hours and has drained the colour of Dartmouth away replacing it by shades of grey – but that's o.k, were all sat cosy in our boat reading and listening to the sound of the wind blowing mist against the windows.
That is until Clare mentioned that we needed to get ready to go ashore, I have to book the scrubbing grid at the harbour office and Clare has an appointment at the dentist for a quick checkup. There was a few other bits also that needed taking care of like food for tonight and the dog needed a walk so we began to get dressed in formal street wear so as not to get noticed as backpacking hippies.

So there we are about to leave when we both realise that the dinghy has 3 inches of water in it from the incessant drizzle over the past 24 hours. Clare steps aboard the dinghy, quickly followed by an over excited dog, whilst I go to fetch the pump to pump the rainwater over the side. Well, not long after I return and step aboard Big Cuddles, Clare’s clinging on to the side of Sunny Jim and an increasingly annoying dog is splashing about, leaning over the side and pawing at the shoreline. I’m pumping water ferociously over the side and shout Henry, ” Oy! bloody sit still”, and then realise I’m actually sucking water up in the pump and squirting it down my trouser leg. OK, so finally the dinghy’s dry and I climb aboard to put the pump back when Clare lets go of Sunny Jim- the dinghy’s immediately swept upstream by the spring tide and I'm stood there pump in one hand, wet trouser leg in the other calling Clare to remain calm, put the oars into the rowlocks and row back to the boat.

So that’s where the second part of this little farce kicks in. I mean, it was still kind of funny at the time, watching Clare struggling to get some kind of synchronicity with the oars in true girlie fashion- dinghy twirling aimlessly about as at each passing second she began falling further and further away from Sunny Jim, and her 3 o’clock appointment with the dentist.
So, it was time to call up the harbour master as it was becoming more obvious, if Clare was going to be left to her own devices she would be in Dittisham, the next village further upstream in less than an hour.
After calling for help on vhf the harbour master was seen motoring alongside a beleaguered “Big Cuddles” who was in the process of being saved by a local water taxi, who had motored over amidst cries of help from the sole crew member and a joyful whining from the dog, was safely towed back, F.O.C to Sunny Jim, now late- and very wet.
“No problem, we’ll still make the appointment”, I said and hopped over the side to join Clare and Henry- who by the way, thought this all to be very entertaining and part of the plan.

Clare let go of Sunny Jim and once again we’re adrift, this time with me huddled over the outboard trying to get it started, yanking the starter cord as the flow of tide takes on a journey all of its own. But this motor is just not going to start today. Since the spark plug panel fell off, moisture gets in and no amount of yanking is going to spark the motor into life so I assume the position, oars ready, and crab over the river Dart to the quay wall, some 300 yards upstream, Clare barking at me, me barking at Clare and the dog shaking with excitement as we Clamber off the dinghy in the sheeting drizzle and the increasing wind.
But, as far as the weather gods were concerned, our bad luck wasn’t over yet – far from it. You could just imagine them peering down at us and begin to take an interest as other locals, huddled together under brolly's and lean-to shelters began to stare at the odd looking trio, struggling with an over exuberant dog.

So that’s where we parted, Clare with poo bags in hand disappearing off into the seaside town and leaving me to contend with what was actually the poor canine, desperate to take his shit ashore, who, as luck would have it, decided to stack his khaki sausages at the door of the harbour master.
Not long later, the business of the day was completed, and after booking the scrubbing grid, made my way back to our meeting point which was well organised, down by the dinghy and out in the fine Devon weather.
As Clare was still at the appointment, it made sense to begin the fruitless task of rowing upstream, flogging relentlessly into the tide and making my way towards the pontoon which hugs the town quay on which a couple of water taxis gaily bobbed about.
As I approached, a couple of bearded taxi operators, dressed in foul weather gear and luminescent hoods peered out from their wooden doghouse.
“Alright, my motor wont start, think it’s the moisture- any chance you could tow us back to my boat – she’s over there”, and I pointed a finger in the general direction of the other anchored boats.
I have to say it was a bit like meeting the two jailers from Monty Pythons Life of Brian, One guy kept sucking in hard, “sssssssssss cant do that, see, harbour master wont let us tow boats, mmmm, why don’t you leave the dinghy here and we’ll take you across”. I could see that they were trying to suck me into there little trap. “Er, no thanks, I’ll need the dinghy to get ashore again”.
“tides runn’n ‘ard”, the other guy muttered in a gruff local accent, ”y’ might struggle. We’ll take you over to your boat- and the outboard too, and the dog.”
At this point, Clare turned up and joined us in the dinghy.
“well thanks anyway but its really a tow I need, I could try rowing, its not too bad, after all, it’ll be slowing down now, the top of the tides not far away”. And that was it, oars out and another furious session of rowing began as we left the locals at the dock.
They’re sneaky bastards though, all you need is to leave your dinghy behind and they’ve got you, stinging you for every trip ashore, here, there left right and bloody centre – cheeky buggers.
So we finally made it back to Sunny Jim, and I have to say that there wasn’t a dry spot left on the three of us. The outboard is still out there clasped onto the dinghy awaiting final judgement, the dog is curled up on his bed awaiting dinner, and here we are wondering when its going to stop raining.