Glorious Mud

I awoke to hear the skipper clomping about sweeping the detritus from the night before so I crawled out my bag and sent Alan off to get the rolls and papers. Before long we were tucking into the unhealthiest breakfast ever with the souvenir Royal Wedding edition spread over the poop.
And then off we set. At the harbour mouth we came to a complete stop. Mud. And with an hour till low water. Wail. Luckily the training school rib was close on hand to pull us off and on we went. A good breeze and a steady 5kts. Across drum sands showing 0.4m at one point. Does anyone know how low, low water is, asked the skip. It was low. Though there’s been lower.
So, in to Granton we did go. Until a boat length from the pontoon, we came to a complete stop again. Goodness, more mud. Bilge keelers are such forgiving boats. I think I need one of my own.