It was at Foys, the restaurant at the Flying Squadron, where us Middle Harbour Yacht Club Cruisers had our annual Long Lunch, where I read a little bit of history about the club on one of the plaques on the wall. Strange that it couldn’t be had at our own club.
It seems Mark Foy, founder of the Sydney Flying Squadron challenged the River Medway Yacht Club to a race, whilst on a business trip in the UK, which took place in in 1899. The prize was he Anglo Australian Shield.
The Australian challenger was Irex, the former Champion 22-Footer Foy purchased in 1898 and sent to England. Built by Joe Donelly* in 1887, Irex had been Intercolonial Champion in both 1894 and 1897
Irex and Maid of Kent
Maid of Kent, the boat the Medway Yacht Club had built for the challenge. A considerably different boat to Irex, the only similarity was that the combined deck length, waterline length and beam totalled 53’6″ in both boats. Maid of Kent was designed by Linton Hope and most resembled the rater class of which he was one of the leading designers. She was built by Gill and Sons of Rochester in a few months.
A series of 5 races was agreed on, and Maid of Kent was built very rapidly as the first race was on Saturday 17 September. Maid of Kent took a lead of 10 lengths early and continued to increase it. She appeared to be sailing evenly whereas Irex was regularly putting her gunnel under. Over the 13 mile course, Maid of Kent won by 11 minutes.
The second race was on Tuesday 20 September, and with smaller rig and crew, Irex performed much better, leading early by 15 seconds. Maid of Kent however was clearly faster downwind, and won the race by 2 minutes. The third race was the very next day and consisted of a race upriver from Queenborough to Chatham and was mostly upwind in light airs. Maid of Kent won, and having won three in a row, the remaining two races were not necessary.
(Words and pictures solicited from the Sydney Flying Squadron website). Read the full story here: http://www.openboat.com.au/the-anglo-australian-shield.html
The lower reaches of the River Medway, where the Medway Yacht Club is situated are not quite as attractive as Sydney Harbour.
It brought back my own memories of the River Medway and my first experience of being on (and in) the water in my own waterborne vessel, other than Uncle Nevil’s friends rubber dinghy on Thames estuary waters at Seasalter. It developed a leak, so the other Uncles had to swim us to shore. Reminds me of my current deflatable.
I have limited experience of the lower reaches, apart from observing the mudflats below whilst driving over it at high level on the M2 motorway.
I do however have experience of the upper reaches of the Medway which are somewhat narrower and prettier.
As a younger boy I grew up within easy reach of the river. Desperate as I was to go fishing I wasn’t allowed to go near the river until I passed my 50 yard swimming test. I lived in a little village called Teston, where my Dad was the village Bobby. Great Uncle Percy drowned by the medieval stone Bridge. The waters were quite precarious, there being a weir and an ancient water mill, creating turbulence. My school class had weekly lessons, at the horrid Victorian era, chlorine infested, Maidstone swimming baths, under the wrathful eye of the grim, and very scary, Mrs Horsfall. It was the type where they had individual wooden changing cubicles around the rim of the pool, which you had to queue up for. The bottoms of the doors were rotten through lack of maintenance and there weren’t enough hooks to hang up clothes and towels. You were shouted at if you were late for the lesson. I did pass my test and was finally allowed to go fishing. I never caught anything, apart from a few sticklebacks. Being only 20mm long they didn’t make for good eating.
A few years later, living on the other side of town, I bought my first canoe. It had a fibreglass bottom and a timber top. I gave it the original name of Martinique. Two of my friends also bought canoes. The river was at least a mile away and it was pre car days, not that I was old enough to drive, so we made trolleys out of old pram wheels found at the local dump. With the addition of a timber cross piece and bent plywood, they worked a treat.
None of us had canoed/kayaked before. They were quite unstable and very difficult to paddle in a straight line. It was so exciting to be manoeuvring upstream trying to avoid the overhanging branches whilst trying to keep our craft in a straight line. It wasn’t long before either Ray, or Mick, capsized, followed by Mick or Ray. I can’t remember how they managed to right their craft. They probably swam to the river bank. With me feeling very smug on the return journey, of our very first cruise, we arrived at the bank from where we set off. Mick and Ray alighted, safe, but wet. I hadn’t realised how cramped my legs were so one step on to dry land followed by two steps back, into the water, I didn’t feel smug anymore.
The river Medway eventually flows into the river Thames, where, at a later stage in life, I continued my watery pursuits.
As a student I lived in Deptford, which at that time, was one of the least salubrious areas of inner South East London. Deptford did have a pre-eminent history in the days of Nelson and ship building. The shipyards and
Wharves (Warehouse Along River Front) closed in the late 60’s and moved downstream. Many of the old buildings remained including a few Rum warehouses which had been converted into flats. The lower ground floor of one of these had been adapted as a sailing school. A crane was used to lift the dinghies from a pen, over the river wall into the water. It was here that I had my first experience of sailing. The boats were Wayfarers. They were about 14 foot long and could comfortably fit four people. Many Wayfarers were adapted for extended cruising and went on extraordinary expeditions.
We were taught how to capsize and right the boats in the murky w ater, which wasn’t as clean as it is now (when raw sewage isn’t being pumped into it by Thames Water), and Weils disease was not uncommon. Once that was mastered the sailing comprised figuring out how to tack and gybe out of the way of the rubbish barges and party boats whilst in a 6 knot tide with a fickle wind. The rubbish barges were particularly scary. There would be one tug boat towing three huge barges full of junk. Needless to say, they had almost zero manoeuvrability and couldn’t avoid us dinghy sailors.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t put off and I did actually buy a Wayfarer with a friend, a few years later. We kept it at Chichester harbour and had lots of fun exploring the inlets, picnicking on the sandy beach at East Head and kind of racing at the local Dell Quay sailing club, next door to the Crown and Anchor, one of the beast pubs in the south of England, which also sells proper beer, at room temperature.
The Wayfarer lives on and is currently in the care of my nephew in South West England awaiting further escapades.
Martyn Colebrook S/V SnO
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