A trip on the river Orwell

‘Travel to Suffolk for a cruise on the Orwell Lady along the Stour estuary to the impressive port of Felixstowe and historic Harwich. Lunch break in Ipswich.’ At that point neither Mary nor saw the note at the end of advert. ‘Average home time 8-30 to 9-30.’

Naturally we signed up to the Orwell Lady cruise and in due course received our travel tickets. That’s when we got our first shock. Start time in Surbiton ‘7.05 am.’ Too late now to reconsider, so on what should have been a beautifully sunny summer’s day in August, we set of with our thick coats, woolly scarves and umbrellas to wait for the coach.

To be fair in view of what happened during the day, the coach arrived on time. As we headed off, there were only five or six people with us and we realised that we should also have made a closer study of the time table for the pick–up points.

Leaving Surbiton, we then visited Hook, before proceeding in order to Epsom, Ewell, North Cheam and Banstead village. Each of these points was reached via a maze of back streets, narrow roads lined with parked cars and an increasing volume of traffic as the rush hour got under way.

I’m not sure of the length of the coach, but it was a 44-seater and very unwieldy to handle through traffic, especially round tight bends. I think the coach drivers do a marvellous job as was demonstrated again later in Ipswich.

Eventually at 8-30, half an hour later than stated in the brochure, the driver introduced himself and proudly announced the fact that we were now on our way to Ipswich. Northbound through the new Dartford tunnel, we made our first stop in Thurrock. You must know the sort of motorway service station where tea cost £2.25 for a small cup and coffee is even more expensive.

The main object of these stops is for the incontinent geriatrics, who make up a large proportion of the passengers, to use the toilet arrangements. On this particular day we had several really handicapped people, ranging from extremely large ladies who could only squeeze along the coach with some difficulty, to genuinely handicapped people who had their wheel chairs and Zimmer frames stored in the coach’s luggage compartment.

To add further to the days enjoyment the Thurrock services toilets are down three flights of stairs! However, we were allowed an hour to sort ourselves out at this ‘comfort stop.’

Onwards to Ipswich! I think we must have gone round the centre of the town at least three times. The coach driver was lost and unbelievably couldn’t find the main shopping area where we were scheduled to stop for lunch. To compensate for this, on each circuit we passed the entrance road to the harbour where we were to join our boat in the afternoon.

He finally stopped and gave up, studying the town map for some minutes, much to the inconvenience of other road users, before finally declaring that he should have turned left as he entered the circuit and not right, as he had done. All was now well and at last we left the coach in a designated coach park where a large notice stated ‘Maximum stay 3 hours.’

By asking directions, Mary and I discovered a small hotel, and ate a reasonably priced lunch in complete solitude. Rather different to the mayhem, ruling in the pub we’d first tried!

Back to the coach! Believe it or not, the driver now couldn’t find his way to the harbour, and ended up making an arrangement to follow another local coach who was obviously familiar with the area. The ‘Orwell Lady’ was scheduled to sail at half past two and we just managed to arrive with a few minutes in hand.

We were confronted by a locked gate when we reached the waterfront. Not an ordinary little gate, but an eight foot high security fence. At least it was made of wire mesh so we could see the Orwell Lady moored opposite us just across the quay. Not for the first time that day it was now raining fairly hard.

Our coach driver managed to attract the attention of one of the crew, who told us that by backing along the narrow road where we were parked, we could drive a couple of hundred yards along the main road and turn back towards the quay again.

“It’s a bit narrow mate, but you should be able to get through!”

Ten minutes later the coach was parked ten feet away from the boat. Success!

The procession of wheel chairs and walking frames all made it successfully onto the boat. Shock horror! There was another coach party already on board!

Now don’t get me wrong. There were plenty of seats for all, forty odd below out of the rain, another forty or so above decks exposed to the weather. Mary and I were fortunate in grabbing the last two seats in the cabin. Of course this meant the view was somewhat restricted but at least we were warm and dry. The odd member of the public was now coming aboard and we eventually moved off about half an hour late.

The passengers soon settled down into a routine. During the periods when the rain was not too hard, everything was alright. However when the conditions outside were too wet for comfort, everyone except for a few hardy souls came down into the cabin. Obviously there was no seating room for them, so some of them stood which obstructed the view of those already sitting, while others sat on the floor.

The skipper was giving a running commentary on points of interest as we passed. This was a pity because no one could see what he was describing while it was raining. Those passengers sitting down couldn’t see because of those standing in front of them, while standees couldn’t see because the windows were too low down.

Fortunately every now and again the rain would stop and the crush in the cabin consequently reduced at irregular intervals.

We were approaching Felixstowe by now and could see several container ships in the port. The skipper was telling the passengers about these huge vessels and the way in which the carrying capacity had recently been increased, by bridging over the crew’s walkways along the deck and placing even more containers on top.

Although the boats were obviously large they didn’t really look all that big to me and I was a little disappointed. The Orwell Lady then headed across to the Harwich side of the river and we had a short trip up the Stour. The skipper once again came on the PA system and said he had asked permission to go closer to the container ships we’d just left, on the return journey.

Eventually we turned and headed back the way we’d just come. We just pointed at the ships and kept going. And going! Goodness only knows how far away we’d been on our first pass, but the boats were getting bigger and bigger as we approached and we still kept going. Then at last we turned and began to run parallel to them.

The skipper had been right about their size. From the cabin, they were so big you couldn’t even see the line of the deck! They really are colossal, not only that but it must have taken five or six minutes to pass along just one of them and we were going quite quickly with the tide helping us along. The skipper explained some of the markings on the ships sides, indicating where the pilots could board and reinforced areas where tugs could push when required.

Then as we finally left them behind, our pleasant journey all went wrong. With no further commentary to be made, music was played over the PA system instead. Silly stuff like ‘messing about on the river’!

Nobody took any notice, it just added to the noise. Anyway we continued back to our starting point where our coach was waiting just where we’d left it.

After getting everyone seated, we turned round and headed back along the quay to the side road that lead back to the main road. While there was sufficient room for a car to turn, the space left was very tight for the coach. The driver had to make several reverse turns to find enough room to drive between the cars parked in the road. Each reversal took the back end of the coach nearer and nearer to the edge of the quayside. However we got away eventually without falling into the Orwell and returned to the Thurrock services without further incident.

As we disembarked I congratulated the driver on his skill in reversing the coach. He rather modestly told me that he was helped by having a television camera in the rear connected to a small screen on the dashboard.

A shorter stop this time as we were beginning to run late. Then a bombshell! The driver announced that he was running out of hours when he was permitted to drive and that he would have to leave us when we returned to Banstead. He did relieve the tension somewhat by radioing through to the company headquarters and asking for a replacement driver to meet him.

We eventually reached Banstead at half past eight. The replacement came half an hour later. He looked very young and drove slowly and carefully, but I have to admit safely, dropping off passengers at the various set down points as necessary.

To cut a long story short, I got indoors at half past ten. Both Mary and I have vowed to check the pick up and drop times far more carefully in future!