The forecast for the Saturday was not a good one for anchoring off a beach so we went for a trip up the Tyne.
We had to breath in a bit to let the ferry squeeze by.
As we passed Collinwood's statue.
And the old leading light towers. The inner one is rather nice and if I were into houses that would be one for me.
A little further up we re-met the ferry, disgorging passengers and cargo.
We found a little bight just above the docks and at the start of the gorge and dropped the hook once more for a quiet day of books.
Rather pretty for the industrial northeast as nature once more takes back what was once lost.
The re-developed north side has an offshore college.
Opposite there is the facade of a once elegant building. It now houses a car scrap yard.
I set the anchor light under the ball at sunset. There are a couple of party boats that ply the river but I should be well out of their way. The night is peaceful unlike the morning. The silence is perforated by a close engine and challenging thumps with a metal boat hook on the deck. Dazed I pull myself into a vertical posture and prepare to be boarded by some fearsome natives. Bless 'em, it was a bunch of fishermen heading downriver for a day of sea fishing. They thought I was adrift and had salvage in mind. The anchor day shape and light meant nothing and they had never seen a vessel anchored there anyway. They said it was not allowed but I had already checked the Port of Tyne regs but it's not worth arguing. We left on good terms but I think they were a little sad their windfall slipped through the net.
Later on the peace was shattered once again. The distant sounds of a hundred chainsaws bounced off the gorge walls. Peering out I spied wall to wall jet skis. I have never seen so many at once and so many variations on the theme. Some were large and had the family on board, some were so tiny they sank when stopped. Some were fast and some were tricked. I didn't make it in time to get a picture, shame.
As we were now wide awake maybe it was time to drift back down river past someones pride and joy.
Back down past the car carriers.
Next is the Port of Tyne.
At the river mouth we turned south and headed for day three off Roker beach and some more air display time. But we turned the camera to the shore and spied this, the Marsden Grotto.
And then this which looks like lime kilns on the top of the cliff.
A little strange perhaps but when you look on google earth you spy this. With the kilns forming a facade on the bottom edge.
Nearby between the Tyne and the Wear is the Souter lighthouse. Splendid is it not?
It was a little boisterous today and the wind and swell were building all the time so we didn't stay all day. We did manage a few tricks from these stunters.
There was a bit of a cuffufle as the Princess Seaways dropped anchor to watch the show.
And then the Bronco turned up again to strut his stuff. An unmistakable image.
With a very slow pass with the gear down.
But what I had been waiting for was the MiG-15. Faggot was the NATO name, and you might also remember the Foxbat and Flogger from the days when the USSR used to test our air defences. Sadly the pictures are nearly as bad as the silhouettes we had for aircraft recognition in the Air section of the Combined Cadet Force back at school.
We ran back for the Tyne and the comfort of the south breakwater. Off Little Haven beach, South Sheilds where the Boudica arrived to be ministered by tugs of the Svitzer family.
Peace and bed once more as the waves burst on the breakwater and spray was in the air.
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