The marina at St Katharine Docks is quite special to me.

My friend Chrissy and I had a posh little lunch in one of the fancy restaurants near there some years ago.

We pulled a neat little student trick and ordered ourselves starters and glasses of tap water because there was no way we could afford the mains!

I remember looking down at the water and wondering if I’d ever be able to do it. To actually be the other side of the shining black iron barricades that separate the great unwashed from the yacht owners on the other side.

I honestly didn’t think I could. But now I have.

I very much would have liked to take my Microplus into the marina because the contrast between the superyachts and my 16ft boat from 1969 would be hilarious.

However, safety prevailed, and we took the ‘big boat’ instead – a Haines river cruiser. But I jump ahead.

Passage planning

St Kats is, to put it plainly, a nightmare for a boat like mine.

And the reason for that is despite her looks she isn’t a pop-over-to-France gin palace with twin outdrives, she’s a dedicated river cruiser with an 85hp single screw Perkins capable of 12 knots at full chat with the tide behind helping her along.

Without the tide pushing her, we estimated that she’d be travelling at 5 knots, but erred on the side of caution.

You can only get into the marina at St Kat’s, next door to Tower Bridge, two hours either side of high water at Tower.

That means you cannot follow the tide from Teddington, so no 12 knots.

Instead, you have to punch it and half-empty your diesel tank, or worse still, be too slow to get there in time and not be allowed through the lock.

Being quick enough was the key concern with my boat.

Before I go any further, I’ll admit maths is not my strong point and I always have help to work out my tide timings. I regularly forget that the Port of London Authority (PLA) tide tables are in Greenwich Mean Time, and have to redo all my calculations adding an hour to everything for British Summer Time.

This is why I spend approximately three weeks constantly checking and rechecking everything and annoying the hell out of a friend of mine from Greenwich sending him lists of numbers to double, triple, and quadruple-check.

I worked out we should leave Teddington at 1130, which would have meant leaving Richmond at 1200.

In theory, that should have locked us in to St Kats at around 1500, allowing plenty of faffing time while locking through Richmond since the weirs would be down.

St Kats locking window was 1210-1510.

I panicked, because that was cutting it too fine, and then had another panic when a different friend of mine questioned whether or not we would fit under Hammersmith Bridge since it was spring tides.

So, I made the dubious decision to leave Teddington at 1000, just in case.

 

Stuck fast

We ran out of water.

Now, you hear people say this, but you never really know what they mean. How can you run out of water on the Thames? Surely it’s full of the stuff. Well, you can, and we did.

We locked through Richmond at around 1030, (we should have left Richmond at 1200, as advised by my skipper friend who really does know what he’s talking about) and turned to avoid the push from the weir, and the boat unceremoniously stopped and stuck her stern in the air in protest.

It was too shallow, and we have a keel. While writing this, I dug out the original survey from the bottom of the drawer to double-check the keel size, and her maximum draught is 0.91m, or 3ft 3in.

Fortunately, the design of the keel is such that it protects the prop and rudder when errors like this occur, so all you hear is a few pings as the prop kicks up all the sand around it.

I’m glad the bottom of the Thames is mostly mud and silt.

Lunch time

There was nothing else for it, so we chucked in the anchor, went downstairs and made bacon sarnies.

I gave the Richmond lockie a call to let him know we hadn’t decided that just outside Richmond Weir was a pretty spot to anchor up for lunch but had actually got stuck, and offered him a bacon sarnie if he fancied putting on his waders and taking a stroll over to us.

It was, without a doubt, shallow enough that he could have done that if he was really hungry!

We sat there for an hour waiting for enough water to get a move on.

Eventually, we floated off our little perch enough to poke out with the boat hook a lovely bit of tree that had got itself jammed in the stern thruster, and then finally spun around enough that we could haul up the anchor and get going again.

We left our unintended picnic spot at Richmond at 1142; what we should have done is left Teddington at 1100-1130 to avoid the bacon sarnie incident.

Punching the tide at around 1,900rpm, we made a solid 5 knots all the way to Westminster.

Keen to avoid being mowed down by a Thames Clipper at Westminster, we pushed her up to 2,100rpm and made 7 knots.

Other than the high-speed RIBs, Thames Clippers are the biggest threatin Central London: giant catamaran river buses that scream around at 26 knots.

And because of their size, you wait for them, they do not wait for you, unless you’re in my little Microplus.

The Thames Clipper skippers are always courteous to her, possibly because they don’t fancy the insurance claim and the ridiculous amount of paperwork should they sink her.

So they give her a nice wide berth.

But in my Haines river cruiser? Forget it, they come past at a full 26 knots.

Fortunately, the high-speed RIBs aren’t generally out in the mornings, so on this trip we mostly avoided them.

We got under Hammersmith Bridge pretty easily. Our air draught is around 3.05m, or 10ft.

The clearance on Hammersmith Bridge’s central span on a mean high water spring tide is 3.5m; the bottom line is we’d have got under the bridge regardless provided we didn’t get bashed about by the waves.

St Kats staff tell you to give them a buzz on VHF Ch80 when you have Tower Bridge in sight so they can get the lock ready.

Fortunately, we had another boat in sight which we’d heard over the VHF radio was heading into St Kats, so we knew the lock was already open for them.

We told the St Kats team that we were just behind.

This made the turn a damn sight easier, knowing for definite we wouldn’t have to float around outside like a lemon being bashed about by Clippers and stemming the tide.

Port idyll

Entering St Katharine Docks is a wonderful experience.

You go from being bashed about on the river, to being bashed about in the lock, to finally this calm and still water surrounded by that beautiful shining iron fence and the restaurants and tourists and flower-bestrewed pubs and all the beauty of London.

The lock is easy because it has a floating pontoon to tie to and the staff come out and help you with your lines.

The marina itself is just plain beautiful.

It’s such an experience to be on the inside of that fence: to have a fancy little card that lets you in and out through the door that keeps out everyone else; to be able to walk those pontoons, you feel like you’re in some exclusive little world, and, with the way the tourists gaze down at you in wonder, in a cage at the zoo too.

The marina staff directed us to a berth in the corner next to a superyacht.

I felt like the only liveaboard in the village!

Our neighbour was huge, black and shiny and had a welcome mat on the pontoon with her name on it. Pure unadulterated luxury. And I’m told she was one of the smaller ones!

It was satisfying to notice the little water outlet pumping out from her that told me she had the same air conditioning system I have on my boat.

We tied up, plugged in, switched on our own air con, which despite being 20 years old still works beautifully, and eventually set off for lunch at the only affordable establishment in the whole place; Prezzo.

St Kats is beautiful. How it manages to be so peaceful despite the city noise all around you I cannot fathom. It has to be down to the water and how still it is.

The old gas lamps surrounding the marina walls are converted for LED, but they still have their glass, and the beautiful gold scrollwork contrasting against the glossy black.

The old warehouse buildings are clean and freshly painted and hold a myriad of chain and independent restaurants.

The place is a maze of alleyways that once led to various distribution centres. But now, instead of a dusty bargeman in his flat cap with a coal smudge on his cheek having a cigarette around each corner, you find a tourist posing for an Instagram photo, or a waitress having a cheeky smoke break.

The people who work here have lounged here in the same spots to have a smoke for nearly 200 years. At night, everything is illuminated.

We fitted straight in because my boat is covered in solar fairy lights.

The warehouses are up-lit from below in various colours, and even the trees are a vibrant green in the brightness. All of the lights reflect on the glassy water and the entire scene is idyllic.

We sat on the bow drinking San Pelligrino out of wine glasses and smoking cigars because we were in St Kats, and we could; it felt right to join in with the over-the-topness of the whole place.

I could have stayed for a week, but I’d seen the marina bill for one night. So I just made full use of the showers, electricity, washing machines and just about everything else before we left after one night; I was still in the laundrette when my boat was called on to come and lock out. I made it just in time.

I also bought a flag from the marina shop because if you’re going to stay in St Kats, you need to let everyone know you’ve stayed there when you get home.

We lost it somewhere under Tower Bridge on the return journey but I’ve ordered another one.

Homeward bound

Tower Bridge on the return journey was more challenging than the way in.

There’s that terrifying moment when the lock opens, and the river is out there, and it is time to go, and there is no turning back; you just have to head out of the lock and pray there are no Clippers or trip boats and just go for it.

Unfortunately for us, there were Clippers and trip boats, and four or five other boats locking out with us. It was challenging, to say the least.

Making the turn and getting her under Tower Bridge was alright, but the waves were the biggest I’ve dealt with in town so far; the unpredictable undercurrents pulled on her keel in every direction, and it was a battle to keep her upright.

We won out in the end and survived to Blackfriars, where the river chilled out a bit and stopped trying quite so hard to drown us.

By the time we reached Westminster Bridge and Big Ben, it had given up the attempt altogether and we had a beautifully smooth trip back to Teddington Lock and home onto the Upper Thames.

All in all, St Katherine Docks Marina is challenging, but worth it. The staff are lovely and the setting is picture-postcard gorgeous.

A few days there is the ideal if your wallet can stand it, but even a night like we did is recommended.

The river in London, however, is never to be sniffed at. It has its own quirks and knows its own mind.

Old Father Thames does precisely what he likes, and always has done. They’re two different rivers, really, the Thames and the Tidal Thames.

One is peaceful and serene, with meadow views that draw the mind back to bygone eras, flower-strewn locks and beautiful riverside pubs that have existed for a hundred years, children playing in the sunshine and graceful swans gliding.

It seems to say be at peace, weary traveller, and let the gentle lap of the waves lull you to sleep.

And the other one seems to want to eat your soul.

One day I might make it further through the Thames Barrier and discover that the estuary makes up the number to three different rivers.

About the author

Faith Merrett owns a 16ft Microplus built in 1969, a Haines motor cruiser and an unreliable rigid inflatable boat that she bought from eBay. The 37-year-old from Surrey has been a boat owner for five years. She spends a lot of time on the river on her own boats or with friends who work on passenger boats. Faith also rides a motorcycle, and works in London.

Lessons learned

• Listen to a trusted source and don’t let anyone put you off your plan.
• Yes, you will fit under Hammersmith Bridge, unless your air draught is over 3.5m.
• Always have bacon in the fridge.
• 5 knots is a decent speed through London against the tide.
• 7 knots is doable through the Pool of London and Westminster.
• Although I know the stretch of the Thames where we got stuck very well, it is clear that I do not know it well enough! A 3ft 3in draught keel can’t pass through Richmond at low water.
• Richmond Weir is not a pretty spot to anchor up for lunch.
• St Katharine’s is a wonderful place.
• Have two VHF radios: You can leave one on Ch14 and listen out for Clippers telling each other they’re moving off piers, and the other oneon Ch80 to talk to the lock keeper.

Expert response

Dennis Knight, the Cruising Association’s Motorboat Section Secretary responds:

• Never underestimate tide and tidal streams. Do not assume that the tidal stream reverses immediately after high water (it may differ substantially). Use multiple resources (chart, tidetables, apps) to plan for the water levels before you depart.
• Plan your entrance to a lock or marina that is perpendicular to the river, ideally around slack water; and approach against the stream.
• If in any doubt, make sure you are travelling in upcoming tide. If you made a planning error and your boat grounds, you should then get free on the rising tide.
• If you travel on very busy waters, install a good radar reflector and ideally also an AIS transceiver (that broadcasts and receives the presence and position of ships on your multifunction display (MFD). You will then be more likely to be seen in time by commercial traffic and you see them approaching. On those waters, having two VHFs is also very sensible. Monitor river traffic as well as the lock channel.
• The River Thames Guide app (or similar) can assist planning. It includes bridge heights and lock times/contact information.

 

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