We’d had a cracking afternoon in the sunshine up there, nyoming cheap BBQ’d Richmonds, sinking Whitstable IPA and watching the container ships fly by in the Knock John Channel.
I was sad to leave Knock John, but not before claiming her as a crown dependency of Yorkshire (note flag). You never know when you might need a micro nation to bolt to when it all goes wrong (SNCLand will be issuing passports in 2019).
The get out was a bit more complicated as well. I abseiled into the boat to find that the wind had turned a little, turning that perfect flat ocean we had come in on to a slightly choppier affair. When combined with the rapid ebb of the leaving tide around the pillars of the fort and a 15 knot wind, keeping the boat stable for the derig and bag drop was an absolute nightmare.
Click. Reverse gear. Hold steady. Bag in. Unclip. Click. Neutral. “LINE FREE!”. Wait. Click. Forward gear. Click. Neutral. Hold steady. “BAG COMING”. Get bag. Click. Reverse gear. Unclip. “LINE FREE”….
Donny finished up, pulled a perfect ab into the boat and pulled the line in, and we shot off into the sunset for Herne Bays finest fish and chips via the Shivering Sands Forts.