KNOCK DOWN SOUTH OF CABO CREUS

Well, my last post was when I was hove to, about 20 miles south of Cabo Creus and catching little cat naps etc. The wind was fairly screeching in the rigging, and Simo was heeled at such an angle that the leeward gunwale was under water. I had no clue to the wind strength, but felt safe and comfortable in my little cabin. My alarm had just gone off and I lay a few moments (I can't tell you how peaceful it all seemed below, and in a way, I am dreading going up for another look out with driving rain and wind that stings the face, pitch black Ahhhhh! I was just getting out of my bunk when i heard a noise. Instinctively I thought it was a ship nearby as I struggled to stand up to have a look out of the cabin window, I was just getting to the window when there was an almighty bang and the window and side of the boat came to meet me with such massive force. It hit me full in the face, and threw me on my back. In a heartbeat, everything that was on the port side, ended up on the starboard side with the most sickening crash I think I have ever heard. When I had recovered from the shock, I thought I had been hit by a ship, the bang was that loud. I struggled to get up from the bunk, and realized that all the floorboards were up, and all over the place, and there was a load of water swishing around my ankles. I had to get out into the cockpit, to see the ship that had just hit me, I opened the cabin doors and was shocked to see the cockpit full of water and stuff from the lockers floating around in it. "F*****g hell we are sinking", was my first reaction. I had a good look round, but there was no ship in sight, the screeching of the wind and driving rain told me that the wind must probably be a lot more than 40 knots, more like over 50 knots, but I had no clue. I retreated into the cabin to get my oilies and life jacket on, it has a harness attached. I could not believe the floor boards were up, and there was so much water in the boat. My priority was to get out into the cockpit, hook on and get the boat steering dead downwind,(I did not want to get hit again broadside on!) and to get pumping. There was still a lot of stuff floating around in the cockpit from when the lockers had flown open and stuff came out. The drains are quite small, so it was going to take some time to clear. I was concerned that we had sprung a plank or something for so much water to be in the boat. Christ, don't let it all end here, I've only just started! I felt a little alone in the cockpit with the hatch and doors closed and to be honest, I was concerned that another wave would come crashing down. The cockpit cleared after a few minutes, and I kept on pumping by hand until my arm would take no more, all the time keeping Simo headed dead downwind. I then swapped hands and realised it was much harder for me to steer with my left hand in these conditions and keep pumping with my right.

The time of the event was as near as dammit 5 am on Wednesday 8th April. We didn't seem so badly off running with the wind, although we were doing 6 knots generally, and much much faster as we surfed down some huge waves. Even though it was dark, you get a feeling that the waves are quite big, and every now and then you hear the roar of a wave breaking behind you, and you stop pumping and hang on really tight, just in case it should come aboard. I do believe, that if I had been in the cockpit when the wave hit, I would not be here writing this. I realised after I had heard the wave breaking behind me, that that was the noise I had heard in the cabin seconds before I was hit.

After what seemed like an hour, in reality it was probably nothing like it, I felt the pump start to suck air, what a relief, at least I knew I was winning and if we were leaking I could keep up with it, yes, it was sucking air, thank goodness, my arms were killing me. I was also cold and totally soaked though, and was a bit pissed off that I had spent a fortune on some Musto high trousers. Although i had had them for three or four years, i had only worn them a dozen times, and the only benefit they gave me was to stop the wind biting through me, they certainly didn't keep out the water.

I had decided to hand steer until daybreak, probably around 7.30, and then I could get a good look at things, and plan my next move, although I was committed to get to my destination, BADALONA. The coast at this point starts to go south west, and as the wind was coming from the north, I thought it might afford some shelter if I stood in to the coast a bit. I wasn't sure what was more menacing, the waves, or the wind, I guessed the waves, especially after the hit I'd had. Even though I was running with it, I did kind of slant in the direction of the land, and could see the lights of what I thought were Estartit and beyond. Funny, it was looking clearer ahead, and there were some breaks in the cloud where the remains of the moon was shining through. It would not be long now, and gradually the dawn came. It was enough for me to see the state of the sea and all things generally. Simo seemed to be in control of the situation, and I thought it time to put Mildred (the wind vane) into action, to give me a break. I attached the lines, put the vane into gear and just waited for a moment or two, to see if she could cope, but of course she could, and it seemed, a lot better than I had done. The wind had abated quite a bit, but according to my windo meter, it was still a touch over thirty knots true, and I thought it was a walk in the park compared to what I had been through earlier.
I went below to survey the scene, total devastation, the floor boards were all up, and straightaway, I could see the bilges were full of water. Again, I got on the pump, and pumped until it sucked air. It became obvious that the limber holes were blocked. I tried to clear them and hardly succeeded before they blocked again. There is a lesson here!! I had put two jars of chick peas in the bilge, with six plastic cartons of milk, my bilges even for a wooden boat, have never seen water like this, EVER, and what had happened was that the labels had got wet and come off, and were now clogging the small limber holes that allow the water to run down to the pump sucker. NEVER PUT STUFF WITH LABELS ON, IN THE BILGE, EVER, EVER, NO! NO! NO!

I replaced the floor boards, and started to check around. The bunk boards had become dislodged, and every pan and dish that was around the galley area, was now either in the chart table, YES IN, or on top. A china dish had left it's place at waist height on the port side, and ended up smashed at head height on the starboard side, with the remaining pieces lying in the shelf that is a type of handhold. In the chart table also was the remains of a tomato and cheese sandwich that had disintegrated into a load of soggy pieces. Everything was soaked in and around the chart table. All the charts were soaked, books soaked!! Hh my gawd, but it looked like the plotter was still working OK.

My face was sore, and I ached all over, but thought the worst was over, I put the kettle on for some coffee, and decided to go forward to get the vanity mirror to check my face. What I saw up in the bow shocked me. I have two tool boxes that sit in a box, and the vanity mirror is attached to the lid of the toolbox cupboard. The toolboxes were on the floor, and the mirror with it, with a chip put off the corner.
(Does this count as seven years bad luck, or have I come up smelling like a rose again?) For these boxes to come out, meant that we had gone over in the crash beyond the mast being in the water. To get the tool boxes out normally, is a struggle, so the power of what happened was gradually dawning on me, although I hadn't realised it, we had been rolled way beyond 90 degrees. The kettle was whistling, and I went to make some tea, I still didn't feel like anything to eat. I checked the wind, and it was still over thirty knots true, and the little storm jib was rushing us on our way at 6 knots. It seemed like nothing was straining, she was taking it all in her stride.

I made my tea with difficulty, ending up with only half a cup, and slid the hatch open for another look round. The sea was still pretty big, and I noticed that we had two stanchions stoved in on the leeward side, and all the dodgers on that side had been stripped off their lashings, and were flapping free in the breeze. The
dinghy still in its bag, was over the lifelines on the side of the boat. I had noticed it earlier, but was not going to be tempted on deck just yet to haul it inboard. It was not quite dragging in the water, so could sit there for a while. I also noticed that my boat hook had gone, and also three of the dinghy floorboards. I was cheesed off about that, because I had just spent 80 odd euros having new ones made, but what the hell, we had survived, and apart from a few aches and pains, would arrive later that day in Badalona. I thought, why not try out the trisail, so i got it out of its bag and rigged it, and it set perfectly. The funny bit was, I had never before given the trisail a thought, and prior to my departure from Gruissan, had decided to see if it all went up ok. Now we were tramping along the Spanish coast at 6 and 7 knots, and comfortable as the serpentine on a hot summers day. I even found the stomach for a sandwich, my favorite cheese and tomato.

It blew all the way to Badalona, and I arrived at 4 pm that Wednesday afternoon. My thoughts turned to the Vendee Globe singlehanders, who go round the world, my goodness they are brave. I am now chilling in Badalona, and although I do want to continue, it will be a little more leisurely, and if you want to stay with me, I am sure we will have some fun along the way. If I have not bored you, and you have got to the end of this story, please bear in mind some people who are less fortunate in life, like the people who have cancer, and you will see on my site, I have a Just Giving page for Cancer Research. If you can afford it, donate a few bob, you know it makes sense. I don't have any targets, and just thought it would be nice to try and raise a few bob whilst enjoying myself,hope you feel the same.

Mickey Boy

FIRST DAY OF THE TRIP

Well I suppose it better be at the beginning, like leaving the house at 0730 on Tuesday 7th April, driving down with Jackie in the car, not much to say, feeling a bit nervy cos I have not been sailing since last October. Still, Simo is in fine fettle, and the first few miles it will all come flooding back. I am glad to be leaving, all the waiting doesn’t do you any good. I’m going to miss Jackie and the cats and the house, but a man’s got to do, what a man’s got to do, so here we are on the day of reckoning. I had always decided that Tuesday the seventh would be the day, and so it was to be, even though I had checked the forecast through wind guru and passage weather and both forecast fairly strong winds, up to 30 knots in fact, but it was from the north, and so it would all be behind me. Laurie and Jean came down to see me off and they had a bottle of champers that we duly consumed with a bit of orange juice. I only had just over one glass and was busy getting all the fenders in and the hundred other jobs that need to done prior to a bit of a journey. I had decided to make Badalona my first stop, which is just north of Barcelona, and about 140 miles, so with the wind expected, I was hoping for a quick passage and anticipated being in Badalona by teatime on Wednesday at the latest .
Time to say bye and poor old Jackie’s eyes are full of it. She’s worried, and has been ever since I came up with this hair brain idea of “one last challenge before I get too old”. Still, cast off the lines, and I am on my way. The wind has already picked up as I motor out into the entrance channel and start to get the main up, thinking prudently, I decide to put a slab in “ reef” . I do have roller reefing but very often it works better to just slab down . I motor out through the entrance and turn sharp right, the breeze is from the north west as I head almost due south towards my first waypoint, about 5 miles to the east of Cabo Creus at the Eastern end of the Pyrenees .
I set the wind vane up, affectionately called Mildred, and clipping on my harness, go forward to hoist the small jib. It’s tiny, and acts as a storm jib in harsh conditions. Well with the wind aft of the beam , we are whipping along, and a bit of flying jib gets our speed up to six knots, time for a cup of tea.
We pass all the landmarks, but are moving further out to sea as the direct course to Creus is the best. It starts to rain early on, and it is full cloud cover, just like the UK, except appreciably warmer, about 16C. As the hours go by, the wind gradually increases, so I take in the flying jib and have another cup of tea. The wind increasing is not a worry because that is what was forecast, and I know that in the hours of darkness, it will be at its strongest, 30 knots. It will be almost dark by 8 pm and I will make a decision on another reef in the main by then, so everything is snug. These little Vertues with two reefs and a small jib will take a lot of wind, and I have a great deal of faith in her. The wind is still rising, and by 7.00 pm it was up to 27 knots true. We were pounding along, and a bit of a sea had built up, probably a metre. The rain was still coming down in fits and starts and it seemed as if when the rain came, the wind got stronger. I decided to slow a little, and also to make sure of having a comfortable night, made the decision to take the main off completely and lash it down tight into the boom crutch. We were still doing six knots, with just the baby jib up, I could see cap creus clearly on my starboard bow, but all the energy used in getting the main down had made me feel slightly queasy, and with no further hesitation heaved three big stomach fulls over the side. I felt a bit better, but was p----d off because I had taken a stugeron before I left, and I hate being sick.
Very soon, I was abeam of the great Cabo Creus and it was dark. Funny, when it’s dark, the waves seem bigger and the wind seems stronger. I got my windo meter out, and it was now up to 30 knots true. Ok, it seemed stronge , but hey, I had not been sailing for six months. Simo was steady in her track under just the storm jib, and Mildred was not having any handling problems.
I had got a nice piece of breast of chicken for dinner, and I was going to do it in the pressure cooker with some boiled potatoes and peas , but do you know what, eating was the last thing on my mind. I had had a sandwich earlier, but that went over the side earlier in the evening, so I just had a few little cat naps 25 minutes at a time in my bunk. I didn’t bother to get undressed, so my wet oilskins, made my bunk a little damp.
I had had my doubts on the new A.I.S. working earlier, but suddenly I found out how it works, and it is fantastic. An alarm goes off when a ship comes within 10 miles of you, but only if it is on a dangerous bearing and is likely to come close, so my thanks must go to the Master at wiring and probably many other things too, my old Mate LES who installed the whole lot for me. A fishing trip will be planned and it may be sooner than you think. . . .READ ON, so that put my mind at rest. It was past midnight, and we were about 15 to 20 miles south east of the big Cabo Creus, the sea was now starting to heap up and become a little playful. I had had a couple of swipes as wave , not big ones you understand, came over the transom, and whether I was down below kipping, or in the cockpit, the cabin doors were firmly closed. The rain was heavier now, but I knew before I set off it was to be like this, at least until morning. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel like getting the camera out to do anything with, as I still didn’t feel fantastic. All I really wanted to do, was go to sleep, so with that in mind, I decided to hove to, a nautical term for stopping the boat at sea so all is relaxed, and it really is. You can be in a force seven or eight in Simo, and she will lay hove to happy as a you no what. The angle of heel was not too bad, and I set the alarm for my first 25 minute stint in my nice warm bunk. The next hour or two were spent sleeping, getting up to have a look out, the A.I.S. came up with a couple of targets that I checked on, FANTASTIC, and I have to say, the wind every time I looked out seemed to be getting stronger, in fact, almost on my last lookout, I took a reading and it was 39 knots true. We were just making headway out to sea at about 2 knots. WHAT HAPPENED NEXT WAS PROBABLY THE BIGGEST SHOCK OF MY LIFE, I will tell you about it in my next update.