The end of Burnham Week, and the end of summer…August 31st is the last race of the week, and for My Beloved Brit, probably the year.

The sea wall at Burnham-on-Crouch. Photo by me.

The town is quieter this week than in past years, but still lovely. Especially this summer, one of the warmest England has seen in years.

The view from our window yesterday at The White Harte. Photo by me

The shops are busy and there are not many empty storefronts. The lines for ice cream on the river front are long.

Burnham’s High Street. Photo by me

But, there are fewer boats these days racing.

Day one of racing, Burnham Race Week 2013. Photo by me.

Many say it is the economy. Some say people can’t afford to take the time off.

The “RBs”. The boat MBB was on is 80 years old, and pink. That’s it second from the right. Lovely. Photo by me.

Dock talk (the general banter on the sea wall about this and that) says that the young sailors are not coming along to replace the sailors retiring from the racing circuit.

The Crouch Yacht Club on the river. Photo by me

The new sailors are here, but many less than in the past.

My Beloved Brit sails out through the fog on a small boat called an “RB”. I love that it is pink and the crew wears pink shirts under their jackets. Photo by me

When I first started visiting Burnham-on-Crouch for Burnham Week with my Beloved Brit over 16 years ago, the crowds were massive. Now it seems so much calmer with less crowds on the seawall, and fewer boats competing.

The seawall in front of our hotel, The White Harte. Photo by me

The streets are more peaceful, although bands of revellers still walk the sea wall at night going from yacht club to yacht club seeing who has the better band and the best sailing banter to relive the day.

A lone figure watches the start of the race. Photo by me.

It will be interesting to see what the future holds.

The “RBs” and “Squibs” lining up to start to race. Photo by me

Will it come back to its former glory when the economy finally recovers?

And they’re off! Photo by me.

Or is the golden age of racing a thing to tell stories about at the local pub?