In June my husband and I, with 30 friends, took an evening trip on The Matthew, the faithful recreation of John Cabot's ship which set sail from Bristol in May 1497.

His aim was to reach Asia and bring back the various silk, perfumes and spices much sought after in those days, and therefore expensive.

But as it turned out it was not Asia that he had discovered – but Newfoundland. Now that's what I call getting lost.

The Matthew, it's said, could have been named Mattea after Cabot's beloved wife.

To board the little ship is to wonder how the captain and his 18 sailors survived such a long voyage, particularly since the crew, although necessary, were not considered as important as the provisions, which included live chickens, or the ship's papers safely stored down below.

The crew had to bed down on the open deck at the mercy of the ferocious gales and heavy seas.

On Cabot's return to Bristol after a record time of 15 days, he was given an adequate pension, but unable to settle he soon set sail on another Atlantic journey. No one knows the end of his story.

To celebrate the 500th anniversary of his epic voyage, Bristolians decided to build a replica ship. The Matthew, cheered on by some 200,000 people, set sail once again in 1997.

She arrived some 54 days later at Bonavista, Newfoundland, to be welcomed by the Queen and Prince Phillip. This was followed by a tour of the Nova Scotia coast, the Eastern Seaboard of the USA and St Lawrence.

The little ship, which had been so warmly welcomed, wintered in Toronto before making a dash across the Atlantic to try and beat Cabot's time of 15 days. But delayed by winds, the journey took 18 days.

Nowadays, The Matthew is not only a attraction to visitors but also takes part in seafaring festivals and events both in the UK and Europe. But you can also enjoy the little ship by taking one of the commercial harbour and offshore cruises on offer – which is exactly what my friends and I did.

Believe me, we had cause to wonder at the nimbleness and dexterity of the volunteer crew.

We were lucky – our evening cruise was as near perfect as could be. And those of us who had not been to the harbour for some time could marvel at the new developments and the transformation of what had once been primarily industrial sites.

There were so many craft on the river, including a young group of trainee canoeists, one of whom delighted our group by capsizing.

We gave a loud cheer when he eventually, with a little help, regained his canoe. We had a short stop while our evening meal of fish and chips was collected (eaten from the paper and piping hot), before wending our way home.

I am sure that, bearing in mind the fear of being washed overboard plus all the dangers of sail in those days, the original crew of The Matthew would have been fairly teetotal.

But I must confess that by the end of the voyage some of us had adapted the rolling stance reminiscent of a ship's crew in bad weather – although in our case it might have been due to the excellence of the beer or the wine we had drunk.

Although we assured him that if he didn't have it when he came on board, he probably wouldn't have it when he disembarked, a friend insisted on taking a vitamin C tablet to ward off scurvy.

What a lovely evening with good friends.

See you next week.