We then scrambled aboard and motored to our dinghy which was moored about half a mile or so away up one of the fingers of the main estuary just beyond the Island Sailing Club vessel, on a drying buoy, hence our being limited to a couple of hours either side of high tide, which by now it had already started to ebb.
    Again it was a lovely clear morning but as yet without a hint of wind, that most essential ingredient for a good sail. In fact as we looked at the flag on the Church tower it was fondly embracing its pole like a tango dancer does her partner. "Never mind", I said, "I expect a breeze will get up as the Sun rises and starts to warm up the land surrounding this sheltered harbour". This statement being made more in hope than knowledge.
    We slipped along the glassy and almost deserted waterway until we reached our 16ft Salcombe Yawl and determinedly set about preparing and rigging her - still no wind. Nothing daunted us as we cast off from the buoy which seemed strangely reluctant to let us go, but after some severe tiller waggling we eased painfully slowly out in to the main stream which carried us sedately along on the ebbing tide past lots of lovely yachts which we now had plenty of time to inspect and "ooh" and "aah" at.
    By now there were more folk about going to and fro in tenders or other motorised craft and like the boating fraternity generally would give us a friendly wave or some form of greeting. Some gave us that sort of wry smile which said "you'll not be sailing far today shipmates!". And so it proved to be, for by the time we reached the main lane leading though the harbour to the sea with still no sign of breeze let alone wind, it was obvious we weren't going to be able to do any sailing this morning.
    It was also very obvious that we wouldn't be able to get back to our mooring against the ever increasing ebb tide armed only with a paddle. So, we steered to and grabbed hold of a yacht's mooring line and waited until a tender came putting along going in our direction. We hailed him and asked for a tow which he readily gave (without penalty or salvage rights) though it was a bit of a struggle for his small engine.
    With profuse thanks we bade our rescuer goodbye as he deposited us back at our mooring buoy where we hastily put our dinghy to bed and clambered in to the RIB. And not a moment to soon, for already we could see ominous mounds of mud appearing just beneath the surface which caused us to pick a route around them and along the valleys until we reached the deeper water of mid channel where we were able to breath a sigh of relief and head back to the town quay.
    There we were met by our dutiful wives who insisted that we all go and have a sinfully large fry-up brunch  (well, it was now gone 10am) at the nearby Quay Café. As you can imagine both Rod's and my howls of protests were inaudible. Having sated ourselves on a heap of health threatening cholesterol we wandered on to the quayside and caught the ferry back to South Sands enjoying the sunshine, views and bustling harbour activities that are Salcombe, feeling at peace with the World but sorry to have to leave the area.
    What lessons did we learn from the morning's activities? Well, perhaps not to let hope overrule reality and have a reliable outboard as a standby when like most of us today you're governed by a timetable. However, at no time were we in any danger, only perhaps from that breakfast! And lastly, not to be too disappointed if one good sail is not followed by another, something which we Aquarians have plenty of practice at. Nevertheless, we won’t give up trying 'cos that's what it's all about 'aint it?! Happy sailing in 2007.
    Note: to all our regular readers - may I remind you that the first part of the article can be found on page 5 of the autumn 2005 edition.
    John R. Neale