From all of us boaters, this for Maurice Griffiths that doyen of small boat cruising, designer of 140 yachts, editor of Yachting Monthly for 40 years. The east coast was his patch. He made a brief foray into the Solent when his daily rail journey into London's Liverpool St station became a standing room only experience. He decided to move and buy a house in Haslemere where he lived for the next few years. His boat, one of his own designs a Lone Gull, 28ft long, was kept in Portsmouth. At that time the South coast was not quite the Piccadilly Circus that it has since become. His wife loved the Solent and preferred it to the East Coast.
But for Maurice the Magician of the Swatchways, the East Coast was his natural home. It was where he grew up in Ipswich, although he was born a Cockney in 1902. According to him you could hear the sound of Bow Bells from his birthplace in Herne Hill, South London. The Magician of the Swatchways is Griffith's best known book although he wrote 19 others. Anyone who has not read 'The Magician' should do so, if you have any love of cruising in small boats. It encapsulates the joy of and stresses of exploring the intimate pleasures of sand and mud.
I once went aground in the Thames Estuary (yes once, so far….) A friend of mine consoled me by saying 'Going aground on the East Coast is obligatory not optional'. Since then my obsession has been depth, not speed and so far that lesson has kept us off the greedy putty. Maurice knew the area well and used the sandbanks as refuge much in the way that the Thames bargemasters had done so in the past. The boats Maurice designed were often bilge keelers, perfect for taking the ground and of shallow draught.
Constant change is what small boat cruising is about, The sense of adventure, the uncertainty, the possibility of danger all focused on the skipper of a small boat. Who can resist it? These were Griffith's feelings about the River Blackwater, according to him the most desirable 10 mile stretch of sailing ground in the world. To be alone on this waste of water and mud, civilisation far away, the scenery distant, silent, the river wide.
Maurice Griffiths took his pleasures singly, his 'Cameos' of cruising concern the experiences of single-handed sailing. His descriptions of wild wind and rain display as much pleasure in the uncomfortable elements as his joy in a fair wind and a cloudless sky.
I've kept my own boat on the East Coast for the last few years. I find that reading MG's accounts of his time here are as seductive as any writing I've had the pleasure of knowing. They are truly as timeless as is the place itself. Somehow the East Coast has escaped the change that has diluted the charms of the south and west . The mixture of old and new, of work and pleasure. The mud that emerges on the ebb tide, defining the channels where my boat swings gently in company with others of every sort. Modest boats mixed with steel fishing boats and smacks. Day boats and blue water yachts, this is a place where boats move in and out of their moorings. Not left, bereft of their owners, sad in their safe marinas, idling their time and lifeless.
The sailing season is closing. Maybe time for one more trip before the time to go ashore. Yesterday morning was glorious the Sun shining sharp, the frost heavy and firm as I looked out at Merikala waiting for us to come aboard. The local boatman, cheerful as ever took us out to her. Decks slippery with ice, would the engine start? Yes, is there any whisky left? No, of course not, well maybe, just a few drops shared as cap-fulls amongst our visiting friends, we shared a short time aboard to check the bilge, and a brief tidy up after the last rather hasty departure. Yes, we will get her ashore this year. Jeremy will contact the boatyard and sort out a date. Then for the pleasures of anti-foul, the other side of the sailing season. What a life! Yes what a life? What luck to have a boat and a son to share her with. Oh lucky man.
