DAZED - SATURDAY 27 JUNE - SAS VAN GENT to YERSEKE

We’ve said it before and it’s worth repeating, that the Westerschelde holds the potential for enormous discomfort, but only a little cautionary fear for those in suitable vessels who are prepared to take the appropriate degree of care. While we are abundantly cautious, sadly our little boat is not intended for waterways of that ilk nor for any but the kindest conditions that one can encounter whilst on it.   Therefore before even considering the twenty-something kilometre journey wind, tide and forecast for the several hours the crossing takes need to be in perfect alignment, with a safety margin to boot.

Thus it was that we were up at a time that even the birds barely consider acceptable, once more double checking tide tables and forecasts from several sources before setting off to cross the dull, hazy, and with today’s temperatures, inappropriately tropical, ocean’s edge.

The most favourable tidal current would not be with us until ten, but delaying till them would offer the possibility of storms and increasingly disconcerting breezes in the early afternoon, so we opted for an earlier, slightly slower passage without the peak tidal assistance to ensure the most comfortable journey before the weather broke.

As is the way when one tries to predict the unpredictable, the forecast was correct, the timing a little off, but just enough to vindicate our early start. Every squall along the way materialised happily somewhere where we were not, and we managed to be sitting happily in Yerseke sharing a a late lunch serving of mussels and chips by the time the wind arrived.    

“Sitting happily” in this case is a euphemism for “sitting in a semi catatonic state”.   The temperatures of the last week combined we think with the “stress” if that’s what it was, of implementing our instant plan, or perhaps just the shock of being here,  have exacted their toll. 

We haven’t even done the “provisioning” shop that begins each season.  We’ve decided, that having a day off tomorrow in the promised milder temperatures, will completely cure whatever it is, and as the sun slowly sank in the west so too did we, (sink), quietly into our pillows.