Over time it has become clear to me that the emotions of fear and excitement are closely linked. Ride a roller coaster, ski a black run, fly in a helicopter for the first time etc. In such cases the feelings are extreme, adrenaline I suppose and one or two other chemicals course through your body. Your mind decides, in the end, whether the experience is good or awful. Fear or excitement.
This little article is the first about my sailing experiences in later life. I wrote earlier about the first boat we owned, Tenacity, in the USA but these articles are linked to my more senior ‘considered’ years.
Having both been brought up by the sea Liz and I have a sort of affinity for the thing. In our fifties we owned a lovely sailing boat called Offchance. It was around 30 feet long and of the Moody Class, we used to sail it off the Devon coast where we lived. The boat was usually kept on the River Axe which is notorious for its demanding entrance into the sea, only accessed via a twice daily window of around 90 minutes due to the tide. We also had a mooring in Dawlish Warren on The Exe and we would often sail between the two places enjoying the Jurassic coast scenery. Over time we decided to enhance our skills and get as many qualifications as we could. Various radio, engine maintenance courses in Plymouth before both of us embarked on a Yacht Master qualification.
Half way through our course we took ourselves off to Greece, to the Southern Ionian to be precise, and we chartered a Sunsail yacht. It was probably around 40 feet long. It was obvious from the start that the set up of the boat was such that its usual passengers were people of little or no experience. Lots of the features of the yacht were in poor working order. We were disappointed. After several days sailing around the Southern Ionian (fellow charterers seemed to motor around and spend most of their time moored close to bars etc) we set off for the Northern Ionian. The link between the two seas is via a canal which has a lock system. We arrived in the Northern Ionian and set sail for Paxos, a beautiful island perhaps 30 miles to the north of Preveza. We made a fatal error as we contacted the ‘Sunsail’ base to ask for a weather forecast. Light winds and calm seas was the prevailing message.
After about an hour the wind stated to pick up and with it the sea conditions deteriorated. Soon the sky clouded over and we started to get concerned. We had every reason to as a storm appeared from nowhere. We donned our life jackets and life lines and took down our sales as we were effectively pointed into the teeth of the gale.Instead we started our motor and sitting together in the stern of the boat we scanned the horizon. Before long a helicopter came overhead, low down, with the markings of the Greek Coast guard on its side. We of course accessed the emergency channel on our radio but what ever they were trying to say to us was lost in the noise of the helicopter engines and the static on the radio. I gave them a thumbs up sign as I could not think of anything else to do. The helicopter departed and we were alone again. Suddenly Liz noticed some black smoke coming up from the bow of the boat. We were bucking up and down wildly as the boat bashed through the waves. Undoing my life line I went down below and discovered the self furling jib winch was smoking apparently not able to cut its self off after we had downed our sales. Frantically I searched for the fuse box and having found it I pulled out a number of unmarked fuses before finally getting the right one and stopping the winch from frying.
Liz and I finally got to a harbour in a place called Ante Paxos and we were at last in smooth water. The leader of a flotilla came across to see us and enquire as to how we were. ‘My goodness’ he said ‘ what on earth were you doing out in that’?. We explained re the ‘wrong weather forecast’. You made a big mistake he said the Northern and Southern Ionian seas can have totally different weather patterns. I am afraid that Sunsail gave you the wrong weather forecast. We were of course cross but we reminded ourselves that the responsibility of getting correct forecast was ours alone. Sunsail were suitably concerned. They even sent a motor launch to come and see us and fix the fault on our boat and they gifted us champagne when we returned to port. None of that stuff would ever make us use them again though.
Anyway back to the point, sailing in rough seas, safety harnesses, rescue helicopters and spray crashing over the decks. Fear or excitement? yes you have guessed Fear.
Back in the Uk we redoubled our training and as part of the exercise we hired a man whose business was training ‘wannabe’ yachtsmen. Indeed as part of the way the military returns those into ‘normal life’ from a conflict situation this man would take teams of paratroopers across The Atlantic in a sailing boat. In short he was as good as you can find and the man from ‘Red Mango sailing’ was a delight to boot.
We charted a boat from Salcombe for 3 days. It was fantastic piece of kit. An Arcona which is a Scandinavian design and about 40 feet in length. Sleek and well made it would tolerate almost any conditions nature could throw at us. We set sail from Salome to Dartmouth and over the next couple of days we were educated on a whole range of subjects. We became adept at mooring the boat, turning it on a sixpence, setting the sales in the optimum position and how to use the various charts whilst out on the sea and also how to employ all the electronic gadgetry. We knew most of this in theory of course but plotting a course when a boat is moving up and down is way different from a classroom scenario. The final night in Dartmouth we were enjoying a pub meal when our instructor arrived with some news. ‘I’m afraid the weather is deteriorating We will have to leave at first light. If you want to return by road that is fine I will take the boat back’.
The following morning we nudged out of Dartmouth and headed for the sea. Clouds were building up and the wind was freshening. I am afraid I cannot remember our instructors name but we all put on our safety gear, life lines and the like and set sail for Salcombe. As the weather deteriorated out instructor started the engine of the boat, not normal practice, and with the twin propulsion of wind and power we were flying along. The steering wheel was huge indeed it was almost as big as the person who was steering the boat. I have this vivid memory of Liz steering the thing as it crashed through the waves, spray cascading over us all. It was carnage down below as anything not tied down was on the floor rolling around. The wind built even higher and soon we began to appreciate fully the power of nature and what it was like to be in control in a top level sailing craft. Finally we arrived at Salcombe. I remember as we came up the river the effect of the incoming tide driven by the wind caused a series of tidal waves and the Arcona sort of surfed along. Several people were sitting in safety on their moored boots. I decided the looks they were giving us were those of admiration. ‘My goodness’ one shouted ‘that must have been an experience’ or similar. Liz and I were soon to learn we had passed the course although our instructor confessed that maybe we had gone outside the tolerance of a normal RYA practical experience.
Fear or excitement. Well on this white knuckle ride excitement of course, an Arcona and a trans Atlantic sailor for support. Bring it on.
Probably our final sailing experience was about ten years ago now. It was the end of the season and we were moving ‘Offchance’ from Dawlish Warren where she had spent most of the summer to our home club. The local council rules meant it was the very last day we were allowed to have our boat on the River Axe as the following day it was to be craned ashore for the winter. Liz dropped me off at the boat and with my rubber dinghy trailing behind I sailed down the river Exe into the sea. It was a lovely day with a fresh breeze and soon the various sites of Exmouth, Budleigh, Sidmouth etc were off the port bow. I had a radio on and I felt quite content. I dropped anchor in late afternoon in Beer and soon Liz appeared. She was training for an event and she had run to Beer to meet me. I got in the dinghy and went ashore to pick her up. The tides were such that the window in which we could enter The Axe was not until 9:30 at night when it would be dark. We heated some tomato soup and we decided to wait where we were. Unfortunately the weather changed and the southerly breeze stiffened and hitting the outgoing tide the effect was to toss Offchance up and down. We were pretty experienced by now but the one thing the South west Coast of England does not have is many places in which to seek shelter in the vent of a storm. Putting it bluntly the only option is to ride the thing out. Soon we were very uncomfortable and we stated our motor and moved along to the more open space of Seaton Bay. No shelter of course so we just moved around for about 3 hours. It was just miserable as the wind was blowing and we were cold.
Now there is one thing in the instructions of Axe yacht Club which essentially says ‘do not enter the harbour in rough seas’ the river entrance is only about ten feet wide it is very dangerous with concrete retaining wall waiting for any badly positioned craft. Soon it ws pitch dark. We could see the lights in the club house of course and we weighed up what to do. We had a GPS on the boat (Global Positioning System) but the instructions, yes I had read them, informed the user that accuracy was only good down to one meter. With an entry space of barely 3 this meant that it was important to be able to see where you were. At long long last 9 :30 arrived and we set up to enter the river. The sea was boiling around the river most. Liz was strapped on in the bow seeming going up and down like a giant see saw. Just as I was about to make my final approach’ a bright torch light came on. It blinded me and ruined my night vision. It was a fisherman on the harbour wall trying to help us. I turned the boat round and tried to recover my vision. The second approach we were confronted by not one but several torches as people had come out from the club house. It was like looking into a search light. Liz waved frantically, her shouts were drowned by the hiss of the foaming sea. Again I turned around. What to do? Obviously the people on the shore were trying to help but it made seeing the tiny entrance all but impossible. I took the decision to risk it. Staying out all night was not on my list of things to do. I looked down at the green lights of the flicking GPS and saw the red light of our boat identifying our position and also showing the entrance to the harbour. I tracked the centre line hardly daring to breathe. The lights from ashore blinding soon we came to the crucial moment and there on our port side perhaps a meter away was the harbour wall. Offchance lurched and we were in. Liz shouted with relief. “well done boy”.!
We moored up and were soon surrounded by Axe Yacht Club members who were keen to know what we were doing and why we had performed our manoeuvres. The lighting issues explained a pint of beer was produced and let me tell you it tasted wonderful.
Fear or excitement? Well let’s put it this way sailing a 30 foot boat off the South west Coast of England is not the luxury most would perceive. We sold the boat the following Spring. We were sorry to do so in many ways but we now enjoy the water by swimming or in our kayaks and at least if the weather deteriorates getting to shore is immediate.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 