The evening was warm and pleasant with just enough wind to keep the sails filled; autumn dusk had begun to obscure the distance. Yachts that had ventured up the narrowing Humber river as far as they dared before the tide turned, were hurrying back to the safety of their moorings in a creek off the broad river.
At low tide the river outside these moorings became draining mud flats, shifting sand banks, and a much-reduced river that had sometimes been waded. Further upriver, seagulls had revealed a barely hidden hill of mud, by paddling on it! In another 15 minutes or so the bank would be exposed, and there was little time to waste for boats heading downriver.
I was the owner of a 23ft sailing cruiser and had been justifying my decision to head back to our berth. My wife, Lisa, maintained that there would be time to sail on and still return safely. I had learned the hard way, what it meant to be grounded, helpless on a mud bank.
Shortcut
Returning on the new tide from the mouth of the miles-wide estuary of the Humber, I wondered why I had to follow the dredged and buoyed channel that large ships used. Surely, with my yacht’s much shallower draught,
