Walton Backwaters - Arthur Ransome's Secret Water - is just an hour's cruise from where we keep our boat. There's a danger of familiarity breeding contempt. It's so easy to get there that it's tempting to forget what a special place it is. You almost feel guilty for not having gone further, and made more effort, to reach it.
But whatever the journey may lack in excitement, the destination never disappoints. Visitors to the Backwaters tend to congregate in three contrasting locations: Titchmarsh Marina, for shoreside comforts, Stone Point, for family fun and sociable barbecues, and Hamford Water, for tranquillity and wildlife watching.
And on the first truly fine weekend of this cruising season, Hamford Water was our choice. And although it is one of the nicest anchorages anywhere, on Friday night we were sharing it with only one other yacht.
Tide is both the chief drawback of the Backwaters and the big attraction. Our draught means we can only get in there above half tide - but once safely anchored in deep water, it's a delight to watch the water recede and acres of mudbank appear, for this is an internationally important wildlife sanctuary.
Its most obvious asset is a thriving seal colony. And we like to anchor close to the spit where they haul themselves out for a rest between tides. We counted 40 of them, some very big, a few extremely small, some gathered in friendly, furry heaps, some staying aloof and apart. (There was even a Billy-no-mates all by himself on the opposite bank).
The Backwaters seals have a characteristic rusty colour, which is apparently due to the high concentration of iron in the mud they bask on. Colonies that live on pristine sandy shores miss out!
Then there's the bird life. There's a huge and noisy gull colony, and the birds are already gathering in large numbers, for the breeding season. It's spectacular to watch them explode into the sky when a predator threatens.
We watched avocets, too, sweeping the shoreline with their specially adapted upcurving beaks. For such strikingly handsome birds, they are remarkably awkward in flight, flapping their wings desperately to stay airborne, despite those unaerodynamic bills and gangly stilt-like legs.
We'd intended to go for a “proper” sail on Saturday, but were so enjoying the sunshine that we stayed happily anchored to the spot for most of the day.
“We ought to start seeing swallows, soon,” declared the captain. Wishful thinking? Right on cue, three of them flew past the boat, heading inland. One swallow doesn't make a summer, they say. But three?
Sadly, we couldn't stay where we were for another night because we had to be home by Sunday lunchtime, and the time of high tide meant we'd have had to leave in the early hours, which didn't appeal.
So in the afternoon we pulled up the anchor, unrolled the headsail (feeling far too warm and lazy to bother with the main) and sailed back into Harwich Harbour and then up the Stour estuary, to another delightful anchorage, even closer to home.
We dropped the hook again in the muddy waters of Copperas Bay, where we spent another lovely evening wildlife watching. (Ironically, we got a better close-up view of a solitary, travelling seal there, than we had of the whole colony “at home”).
We also enjoyed another spectacular sunset. It really did seem as if summer had started. Let's hope that this year it's going to last!
For the rest of the season we're probably going to be travelling much further afield, but it was good to be reminded that you don't have to go far or sail hard to experience the magic of cruising.
