​ZeeBries: A Posh Tin Bath for Wash Day

​Just for the record, on this delightful sea and river adventure, I, Peter, am graciously appointed as the Trainee First Mate & Deckhand. Meanwhile, my esteemed colleague, Ian, takes on the dual roles of Captain and Chief Steward. Talk about a multi-tasking master!
 
Oh, the thrill of it all! My epic journey kicked off at the incredibly convenient time of 5 AM, thanks to the ever-so-pleasant Rachel. I mean, who needs a decent night's sleep before a grand adventure? After a brisk drive to Kings Lynn, I was greeted by the charming Ian, our fearless captain, on the conveniently located pontoon. There, I was introduced to the majestic sea-going ZeeBries, owned by the lovely couple Ian and Jenny. Talk about a warm welcome!

Just when I thought things couldn't get any more exciting, my first lesson of the day was a crash course in operating the delightful manual bilge pump. Imagine my surprise as I discovered this hidden gem beneath a conveniently heavy steel cover at the stern! I couldn't help but wonder, "How did I get myself into this?" And most importantly, "Captain, where's the life jacket?" Oh, the joys of seafaring!

With unbridled excitement, we cast off the ropes and embarked on our grand ocean adventure. Our fearless Chief Steward, a culinary mastermind, treated us to a truly unforgettable sausage sandwich. But I'll save the details for later.

As for my nautical education, the Captain imparted some crucial wisdom about the delicate art of timing. Apparently, navigating these waterways requires a perfect balance with the tides and water levels. ZeeBries, our trusty vessel, was equipped with a fancy depth finder, a vital tool for avoiding the unexpected shallow spots. I'm talking about going from 12 feet deep to 2 feet in no time flat. Talk about a heart-stopping experience!

The Captain's method for navigating these treacherous waters was a masterful combination of skilful manoeuvring, precise map reading, and a touch of luck. And did I mention the Captain was busy making coffee as well (because, you know, someone had to do it)? The Captain would circle the boat, cross his fingers, and hope for the best. It was quite a thrilling experience, and the coffee was delicious.

Oh, I totally forgot to mention the delightful sea conditions. You know, just a tiny bit choppy, with waves that were gently rocking the boat back and forth. It was like a peaceful ride on a carnival carousel, except with a bit more water involved. And don’t forget the lovely captain, who thought it would be hilarious to send me out in the calm storm to retrieve some ropes and his lucky charm. After all, what’s more important than a wobbling Hindu charm? I’m sure it was all part of his grand plan to see if I had the right stuff to be a deckhand. It was like a relaxing stroll across a roof on a breezy day. Totally stress-free.

Now, back to that sausage sandwich. I mentioned earlier that I've never been seasick before. Well, let's just say that changed quickly. The Captain had some helpful advice about which side of the boat to toss my breakfast over. I think it was to keep the boat clean.

After a delightful journey across the choppy seas, we found ourselves near the charming Holbeach bombing range and the picturesque shipwreck they use for target practice. Nearby, we discovered the incredibly important tidal gauge, a device that miraculously predicts flooding and assesses the potential impact of climate change, possibly commissioned by Greta Thunberg herself!

We dropped anchor, a whopping 8 feet deep, as we were planning to stay put for a relaxing 2-3 hours while we waited for the tide to turn. By this time, I was feeling much better, and my seasickness had miraculously vanished. We would set sail once the shipwreck conveniently disappeared beneath the sea surface, allowing us to follow the rising tide that had been generously filling the Wisbech Channel with plenty of water for our boat to float on.

Our journey up the channel was quite interesting. We passed the historic lighthouse on both the right and left sides, one of which was named after the renowned Sir Peter Scott.

A massive ship was unloading timber at one of the industrial yards. As I daydreamed about all the amazing things I could build with all that wood, we ventured further into Wisbech. The Captain suggested fish and chips. We moored as close to the centre as possible, on a suitable pontoon, I believe it was Cross Keys Swing Bridge.
I hopped off to fetch our order. Captain quickly shouted, 'I'll phone the order through.' When I arrived, the incredibly helpful chippy lady told me that my order was fish and chips twice, fish cakes, and fried pineapple. I politely declined the fish cakes and fried pineapple, but she looked at me like I was joking.
To clarify, I called the Captain, who confirmed he hadn't placed the order yet. The lady was relieved to realise I wasn't messing with her and apologised for the mix-up. We had a pleasant chat while she prepared my order.

I quickly returned to the boat, not before stopping by the charming off-license for a bottle of red wine. The Chief Steward had thoughtfully set up the table in the wheelhouse, and we planned to enjoy our meal on the way. We had a tight deadline to get under the lowest bridge on the other side of Wisbech before the tide or channel level rose too high. We made it just in time and then followed the tidal river down to Guyhirn, searching for the elusive pontoon mooring.

We spent the evening relaxing over a bottle of red wine and then enjoyed a well-deserved sleep. I curled up in the wheelhouse, while the Captain retired to the main cabin. The next morning, we discovered that getting out of the pontoon mooring for any reason (like, you know, going to the shop or garage across the road) was nearly impossible due to a conveniently locked gate. The padlock, designed in a clever metal box that was inaccessible from the riverside, proved to be a real challenge. The Captain, clearly annoyed, mentioned that he had managed to unlock it on a previous visit and returned the padlock to the Dog in a Doublet Sluice Monitoring Station worker, explaining that it needed to be fixed. It was a peaceful night, except for the constant road noise from the A47.

An incredibly early rise and we set sail just before 7 AM to follow the rising tide up the river to the Dog in a Doublet Sluice. Next to this Sluice was a charming pub (now closed and boarded up), originally built as a coaching inn for the Dutch when they were draining the fens, is where the river transitions from tidal to non-tidal. We arrived around 8:15 AM and didn't have to wait too long, as it's a manned operation with big sluice gates.

We chatted with a friendly environmental agency worker who had some strong opinions about boat licenses and how ridiculously expensive they were becoming. Despite working for the environmental agency, he was unhappy and had a dispute with the EA about the limited time he could actually use his boat on the water due to flooding or strong currents. He even went so far as to get tickets on his boat in defiance. However, he acknowledged that he had no real grounds to argue with the EA and would have to reluctantly splash out on the license soon.

The sluice gates finally began to rise, and we embarked on the thrilling "mad mile" up to Peterborough Embankment. Along the way, we passed numerous charming encampments made up of boats, tarpaulins, and pallets. Despite the picturesque scenery, it was refreshing to be back on the River Nene. The Wisbech Channel was a murky and muddy industrial wasteland compared to the clear, flowing waters of the Nene.

The Captain and I had a thought-provoking discussion about the potential benefits of improving Peterborough Embankment for everyone. Instead of leaving it as a neglected asset, the local authority could actually invest in revitalising its design from the 1950s. The gradual, long, treaded steps down to the water's edge, with a backdrop of a continuous line of established willow trees, are actually quite charming. With a little TLC, including proper boat moorings and facilities, the Embankment could become a vibrant hub for the community and contribute to the overall vibes of Peterborough's town centre.

The Orton Mere Lock was finally approaching, signalling our return to the luxurious Peterborough Yacht Club and self-help club, complete with world-class facilities for its members. I expressed my deepest gratitude to the Captain, Ian, for an absolutely unforgettable experience navigating The Wash and the Wisbech Channel. My introduction to his magnificent vessel, ZeeBries, and all its incredible comforts and facilities has officially converted me into a sea-faring enthusiast. Well now off to Debdale to check my boat over as requested by captain Rachel...