All names have been changed,
but the dates and events are true. This is an account of what I wrote at
the time, just shortly after the actual event.
First Time Alone - Baptism
of Fire
Torquay to Dartmouth
Saturday 6 April 1985 (Easter
Saturday)
The boat was new to me, it wasn't set up for single-handed
sailing (no roller-reefing luxuries), but neither had I prepared adequately.
I'd have done a lot of things differently in hindsight (such as having the
foresail hanked on and ready to go, the mainsail ready to hoist quickly).
On our journey down from Rye, Carl - the previous owner - had monitored the oil
level continuously. Perhaps suspicious looking back! The engine had
been retired from a tractor a few years back.
On Friday, I'd had problems with the engine
and had to bleed the fuel lines. Saturday morning Paul came down to fit
the D-ring in the cockpit, so I asked him to check the engine too. All
seemed well, and most importantly, the oil level was OK
I left the marina at 1110 hours, the wind was
SW4 and I intended to motor around to Dartmouth - the forecast was SW7 later.
With the autopilot doing the work, I was enjoying myself, taking over the helm
once to alter course for a tanker shortly before reaching Berry Head. At
1130 I streamed the log, then reading 1.2 miles, and it showed I was making 6
knots under power.
By 1205, with Berry Head abeam, the wind had
increased to SW6, and I altered course to head south of the Mewstone. My
log reading was 4.0 miles. At 1235, the engine revs died down. The
log showed 2 knots, then nothing. Suddenly, I had a boat full of smoke -
it was pouring out from the engine box, starboard cockpit locker and battery
locker. I poked my head down below and felt around for the engine stop
button - I could see nothing. The sea was rough - we were off the headland
- and wind continued to increase, my anemometer recorded gusts of 38 knots, and
I suddenly felt very alone. Delphin was being thrown about, pitching and
rolling,
and slowly making her way back towards land (rocks). I called up Brixham
Coastguard on Channel 16, changing to 67 after initial contact. I told
them my situation and position, that I was single-handed but would continue to
Dartmouth under sail. I tried to keep most of the panic out of my voice.
When they replied, I could hardly hear them for crackling - and they had the
same problem with me, prompting them to diagnose a short-circuit and offer me
the Torbay Lifeboat - which I declined (I'd never live that down!)
I was frightened, but managed to just keep
going - although I was keeping a close eye on the shore which was getting ever
closer. I hoisted the mainsail, taking most of my strength with it.
I needed to reef it, but found the kicking strap was seized onto the boom.
I had a short rest, and the radio was alive with Brixham Coastguard talking to
me, or they to others about me. I heard Torquay Marina call them up,
describing my boat, my engine problems, my lifesaving and fire-fighting gear.
There followed a period when I lost all radio contact and got everyone worried.
Brixham (Coastguard) had obtained a radio fix
on me, and that coupled with Torquay's description enabled them to keep a visual
watch on me - also asking other vessels in the vicinity to do the same. I
got the working jib up, but not without problems. While on the foredeck, I
was just about submerged by waves twice, and had it not been for my safety harness (which I
wore religiously whenever I was alone), I'd have gone over. The D shackle
on the jib clew went, and I had to get the jib down again, renew the shackle and
then rehoist. By now I was knackered (sorry, my word at the time), wet and
cold. Delphin clawed her way to windward magnificently, I'd had to ease
the sheets to make life more bearable.
Brixham had called up Dartmouth Coastguard who
were now waiting for me. A motor vessel came close by and called up
Dartmouth to report my progress - it sounded reassuring when I heard them say
"she's sailing well". They offered to escort me into Dartmouth, but the
kind offer was declined.
After several tacks, I was south of the
Eastern Blackstone when Dartmouth called me to say they had me visual. By
this time I'd lost all track of time and keeping the log was not my priority,
I'd already taken in the Wasp (trailing) log. Eventually, I was able to
bear off the wind and sail north into the Dart estuary.
Typically, once I'd past the 2 castles and
inside the entrance, I lost the wind. I thought now was a good time to get
the main (sail) down thinking that I mightn't have another opportunity. I attempted to
make some way under jib - gybing continuously and making the most of every puff.
At last, I reached the bight, the Royal Dart Yacht Club was abeam. I
looked along the quay and saw blue flashing lights, idly wondering what was
going on there, then I realised the Coastguard land rover was there for my
benefit. The Coastguard informed me that a Royal Navy picket boat (from
the Britannia Royal Naval College) was on her way down the river and he would
commandeer her to tow me to safety! The picket boat was coming towards me,
but the Coastguard said it wasn't responding to the VHF so could I shout at him
as he passed me. I did - asking him to call up the Coastguard on channel
67. He abruptly turned and came alongside - 2 sailors jumped aboard and
secured the tow line - they immediately went below and turned off my batteries,
proclaiming "you may go up in flames any minute!". I was towed to an
enormous yellow big ship buoy in the anchorage, and tied up at 1530.
Apart from several scratches and bruises, I
survived to tell the tale. I went ashore in the dinghy to meet the
Coastguard who was standing there waiting for me - he took some details and
finished by saying "well done". Delphin behaved magnificently throughout
and I'll never doubt her ability to get me out of trouble now.
The cause of the problem? The oil filter
had come loose and let all the oil into the bilge - the engine overheated and
seized, complicated by a short-circuit. People were crawling out from
everywhere to help me. I stayed up all that night, sat on the bow, fending
off the damn great buoy that was threatening to take whopping great chunks out of
the hull. Gareth's bucket (a sea anchor I was told) didn't help much!
The deputy harbour master arrived at 1000 the next morning and towed me to a
more suitable, comfortable, and rather less threatening, mooring.
