After dark on the stairs at Wapping near the 'Prospect of Whitby', no longer any need to fear the press gang, though their ghosts haunt the foreshore. The architect who designed this part of the redevelopment was no waterman, he or she was someone who liked LOOKING at water. The get-in is overly steep steps down to a small square inlet in the curved sea wall. The shape focusses any chop into the inlet, where it swooshes endless forwards and back. The tiny beach has eroded concrete standing proud of the sand, waiting to tear a hole in your hull.
However, once on the water, dry and upright, all is forgotten, country mice in our kayaks marvelling at the cityscape.
Andrew's tide calculations were spot on as the tide carried us up to Big Ben,
in time for the chimes.
In this part of the Thames, the more lights and reflective clothing, the better.
Past HMS Belfast, under Tower Bridge,
gliding at speed as the ebb gained momentum.
All too soon back to Wapping and a drink at 'The Prospect'.
