SIMO
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| Simo ready for her final trip |
SIMO HORTA TO FALMOUTH
The trip started well. I had spent the 3rd and 4th July gradually getting stores and organising
everything. Getting crew was a problem,
but I think on Sunday the 30th June I had resigned myself to doing it
singlehanded. Ok, it was a long trip and I just needed to
convince Jackie but I knew how she was against it, she was the only one who
realised I was not young anymore.
I had been chatting with Steve and Andrew about the gribs
and all sorts of stuff, then Steve departed for Portugal and it was just me and
Andrew. We both planned to go to
Falmouth, so I thought it was a good idea to leave together. Andrew’s boat was slightly bigger than Simo, 32
feet , a Lyle Hess design and just as beautiful as Simo ( well not quite ) but hey,
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| Andrews very pretty Yacht |
after the first night
at sea we knew we would not see each other again, so we planned on Thursday the
4th July. David had done our painting on
the wall just by dock 30, and had done a fab job. Apparently it is tradition or superstition,
that every yacht passing through leaves their mark on the wall or else!!!
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| Dave , Buck, Banks'y but most important our mark in Horta |
BANKSY BETTER KNOWN AS BUCK or is that Dave
The high pressure weather system all seemed very well
established and it looked like it was going to be a light wind trip. I was chatting with a very nice couple, Derek
and Anthea who had just about completed
an 8 year circumnavigation on the fantastic little yacht “Sukanuk”, only 33
feet long but a real pocket battleship.
We were chatting about the weather and I mentioned that I might get a
couple more fuel containers in case I had to motor for longer periods than
normal, they both chirped up they had a couple of 20ltr cans brand new, that
they would not need. A deal was struck
and I had extra 40 litres which would give me two days extra motoring if need
be. One of the cans went on David’s bunk
the other strapped to the shrouds. I had
got plenty of water and soft drinks and even got half a side of bacon to hang
in the cabin somewhere, how long it would last we would have to wait and see. Trying to get green bananas and tomatoes was
not easy, but I did the best I could, and finally the waiting was over. Andrew and I had a meal ashore with a friend
of his, and I was up early on the 4th to get round to the fuel dock to top up
with diesel . Rachel Turk from “Saltwhistle
Two”, a Hallberg 42, came round to see me off. She and Tony (her bloke) had very kindly
helped set the dock bar television up with a dodgy computer link so we could
all watch the Lions second test. Unfortunately
we lost it, but won the series and that’s what counts.
Fuelled up ready to go, I motored out into the expansive
harbour and started to put fenders away and tidy up and stow warps. When I was ready, I got the net book out and
skyped Jackie so she could see my departure, she was worried I could tell, but
me, I was not even anxious. I was so
looking forward to this challenge and had estimated that it should take 14 to
16 days, but could take up to 20 days. Secretly
I was hoping to do it in 14 days, it is about 1200 miles, maybe I was being a
bit optimistic but that’s the way I am.
Andrew finally followed me out a couple of hours later and
caught me up later in the afternoon. We
had both had to motor to clear the Island.
We had a chat on the VHF and decided what sort of course we would need
to steer for the first 24 hours, you
never know we may stay in touch for a few days. Dinner that night was lucky dip, below the
starboard bunk were so many tins of meat of all descriptions, and I pulled out
a lamb mince and onions, so it was a simple task to peel some potatoes ,carrots
and an onion pop into the pressure cooker and 15 minutes later, dish up. In the past with David on board, I used to go
to more trouble to cook the evening meal.
It would come from the same stash of tins, but I would put a little
olive oil in the bottom of the pressure cooker and throw in some chopped
peppers onions and a bit of garlic, just brown if off a little and then add the
contents of the tin into it, along with some herbs and spices and a little
tomato puree it had the basis of a good meal. I also had gravy granules to thicken the whole
lot up and it was real tasty with the fresh vegetables. Anyway, I was being lazy tonight and my track
took me to the north of the island of Graciosa, where I was cooking the meal
around 7 pm. This lazy trend continued
for the remainder of the voyage, don’t ask me why, but I did it that way,
almost like cooking for yourself alone “why bother”. Suddenly the mobile rang. I must have been
three or four miles past the island and the next land was 1200 miles away. It was Jackie, just one last chat before I
hit the big ocean to wish me well.
Night was down very quick and it was black. I saw Andrew’s white light ahead of me, maybe
a couple of miles, we were sailing now doing almost 4 knots and had been since
about 8 pm. I got my usual cat naps of
25 minutes and quickly got into the stride, falling asleep instantly when I
went back to my bunk after a lookout. In
the morning I was as refreshed as when I started and you guessed it, the bacon
hanging in the cabin had its first taste of the carving knife as I quickly
chopped off four good rashers and put them in the pan. It kind of brought a smile to my face because
when I did the trip with David to the Azores, we tried desperately to get some
bacon but failed, and I don’t think a day went by without bacon being mentioned,
and the Bottle, but that’s another story. I sliced four slices of bread and gave it a
nice cholesterol filled spread with the tinned butter, followed by a squirt of brown source,
fantastic , what a way to start a day.
Andrew had fallen a
little behind during the night, but during the morning pulled it all back. The
24 hour run gave us 112 miles, but over half on the big red engine, which
carried us along at a steady 4 and a bit knots.
During the Friday, the wind was in the south east and I gingerly put the
genaker up. Wind was about 10 knots but
we made good speed as the afternoon wore on into the evening. I decided to take it off before dinner for two
reasons, one, it can be a pig to get down especially in the dark, and two, the
wind had started to back a little and to lay the course I wanted I would be
better with the flying jib, which had been expertly sewed up by a sail maker
called Ralph in Horta, along with all the other sails that needed attention. By 20.00 hrs the breeze was fading, so big red
went on to help keep the speed up to 4 knots. The trouble with the engine being on it was a bit
difficult to sleep and rest. All through
the night the engine was on and off, and at 2am I turned it off to get some
sleep. Four hours later, it seemed a bit
misty outside and I had lost Andrew’s stern light, so whether he decided to
keep motoring I don’t know. Dawn came
and the second days run was calculated straight after a breakfast of left over
sautéed potatoes, eggs, bacon and tomatoes, oh and not forgetting two slices of
toast. Wow this was really living, but
to be honest, you have to take advantage when the sea is smooth because when it
cuts up a bit, a twenty five footer does bounce around a bit and makes cooking
a tad difficult. Oh yes, the second days
run was slightly down at 92 miles. Hey ho, on we go, I checked the oil and water
before putting big red back on, the sea being glassy smooth, tried calling
Andrew but no answer ( I found out later he could hear me but I could not hear
him ), I never saw him again. At 15.37
hours, I noticed the log saying we only had 1000 miles to go. We were still steering 040C and heading more
North than East because that was the plan, to get North, and get into a
westerly air stream, as it was expected that easterly winds would prevail due
to the high pressure over the UK. Now
this is where we needed techy Dave with his magic ipad, to see how far north we
would have to go to get the westerlies . I had made a waypoint on the chart
plotter before I left where I thought I needed to go before turning right as
they say.
Sailing through Saturday was a bit like, engine on, engine off,
one minute we would have a nice breeze then half hour later nothing. Pretty frustrating. Lunch came and went, and in the afternoon I had more little snacks than I should have. I had one big disaster on Saturday, the handle
half broke off the kettle. I got out the
90 second epoxy and slammed loads around it and left it for over an hour, but it
never really recovered, and I had to be really careful when I boiled the kettle
as the handle was hanging on by a sliver of metal .
Sunday came and I had got a lot of sleep, in fact I started
to set the alarm for 1 hour instead of the normal 25 minutes. Thanks to Dave, the AIS was working a treat so would see ships
at around the 20 mile mark giving plenty of warning. Having said that, I had not seen too much in
the way of shipping, but to change all that came a whopper of a container ship
called “ A.P.L. AGATE”. The captain who was American called me up on
the VHF and we had quite a long chat about sailing and stuf , but then they
soon disappeared over the horizon doing 18 knots or so.
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| APL AGATE, nice chatting with you |
Dinner was steak and
kidney, but again I did nothing to enhance it, so the normal carrots and
cabbage with gravy was put in the plastic food bowl and scoffed down. Progress was not too great and by 9 pm Sunday
our 12 hour run was only 44 miles. The
sea, for some reason, had been a bit lumpy and our heading of 034C was putting
us in the right direction, but was generally hard on the wind. It was still very comfortable down below and
very warm, the other noticeable difference was that up to now very little water
had come on deck and every time I tried the pump, the bilge was dry, and long
may it continue I thought. I knew the decks leaked a bit, and being laid up in
the yard at Olhao on the Algarve, despite being covered, there was going to be
a bit of shrinkage, mind you, the amount of water that came on board for the
trip out she should be as tight as a drum, fingers crossed.
Monday came round pretty quick with the fine weather
continuing, and again the bacon took a bashing, and I always made sure I had
potatoes left over from the night before to quickly sauté so the breakfast was
kinda the highlight of the day. I had
used the last of the bread and knew I would have to bake some either today or
tomorrow. I was also thinking cake,
lovely carrot cake, so may do one of those as well. I did the 24 hour run at 9 am and it was a bit
disappointing with only 82 miles on the clock but we had motored quite a bit
and the wind, what there was of it, was bang on the nose, and now on Port tack
heading towards north Spain, still we know how things change. I had noticed yesterday how the wind was
gradually backing starting in the south east, and here we are now with it
coming straight out of the north east, so much so that even motor sailing, we
could only lay about 085C. If we wanted to just sail, the speed would drop to
about 3 knots and we would be heading for the bottom end of Portugal. ”I know it’s nice down there Simo, but we
wanna go back to Ipswich”. I would sail
on till starboard tack was favoured, even if it took me to the west of Ireland.
By 11 am the wind had backed another ten
degrees, and I decided to sail, flyer no 1 staysail and full main. OK we were
heading 090C but doing 4 knots plus. Sometimes
we would be heading south of east, but generally east, and you can’t keep
tacking every five minutes when you’re on a long trip. The weather was great, sunshine, bluish
skies, people pay thousands for this. I
got quite a lot of sleep and also had crackers and cheese and tomatoes for
lunch, and noticed that the breeze was still backing. At the time I was steering 070C and gotta say
I was smiling cos this was perfect, even though I knew at some stage the wind
according to the gribs,( prediction of the weather for up to 7 day's ) would be coming straight out of the east. Still let’s make hay while we can.
The sea was a bit messy, and although the hasler was doing a
great job, now and again a stopper wave would catch us and the speed would drop
right down to 2 knots, and I was reluctant to bear away and go for more speed. I was still not really sure what the wind was
going to do. I had some pasta for tea
with pesto and chopped up some luncheon meat to make it more interesting,
loadsa salt and pepper, and it was
better than Jamie Oliver could do.
Shortly after dinner and a nice cuppa, I was doing the
normal spot routine where I would set it going and let it run for half an hour
to ensure the position was sent, when a really big slamming wave stopped us
dead. It actually knocked me off my feet,
and I fell on the “spot”. When I recovered and looked down, I was horrified to
see the spot blinking red, I thought I had damaged it. The big wave was forgotten as I rushed down to
get the spot book to see what it meant, and ten minutes later I had my answer,
“It needs a clearer view of the sky”.
Ok, no problem I gave it the best look it could ever have
but it continued to blink red although the send bit light did flash green. I was a bit confused, maybe a bit tired but my
major concern was that the signal may not be getting to the blog, and people (Jackie
), would start to worry. I decided to
turn the thing off and try some new batteries, but even then it still flashed
red, but this time an hour had passed, and I reached down to open my snack box
for a snickers bar, and then had another, greedy pig, but felt much better and
decided to let the spot rest and would have another go in the morning. I sat in the cockpit and put my feet up still
worrying about the spot. As darkness
fell, the wind held, but went a tad
lighter. We were still doing three and
half knots on average and I did not want the engine on when I was going to try
and sleep. Around 11 pm or 2300 hours I decided to make a
cup of chocolate and then start getting some sleep. I had not seen any ships for a long time, not
even on AIS , so would probably go to my hour long sleeps. The alarm on the AIS always seemed to wake me
anyway, and for the hour sleeps, I had the kitchen timer that I could set to
whatever I wanted to. When I went down,
my first thought was there was a lot of water sloshing around, and because the engine was off I could hear it.
I thought I must pump before going to
sleep because I had not even looked at the pump for two days.
Casually, I lifted the floor board up, the one where we keep
the butter always comes up quite easy. I
had the led strip light on over the galley, but when I lifted the board, I was
a little shocked to see the butter tin floating around with another Tupperware
container. I put the main cabin light on
and got a torch out of the basket. Christ, I don’t think I have ever seen so much
water, only once when we first got the boat on the Orwell and a hose came off
and flooded the boat to the floorboards. I must have been a bit tired because I
remember thinking back to when Dave was on board and saying to him we must pump
every shift, but it was fairly rough then, and so far on this trip, a wave had
not come on deck. I put the kettle on
and went into the cockpit and started pumping. I have got a big electric pump which I could
have got out, it plugs into the ciggy lighter, but I just didn’t think. Over the next ten to fifteen minutes I pumped,
changed hands a few times, and went below to make my chocolate, came back up
and continued to pump. I don’t know how
long I pumped for, but am sure it was at least an hour. It sucked dry and I waited five minutes and
pumped some more because it always takes time to get through the limber holes,
my chocolate had gone cold, I just forgot about it. I was absolutely knackered when It sucked dry
again, and stopped to ponder. The wind
had gone light and we were hardly moving. I decided to just hove to, and get my head
down, so I just tacked, sheeted everything in, got my kit off and went to bed, I
didn’t even bother looking in the bilge. I forgot to set the alarm, and when I woke it
was dawn and 6.30 am or 0630 hours. It
took a few minutes to remember where I was, and the funny thing was that I had
a dream and it was like I was in a submarine with four other guys, and they
were all doing something, and there seemed to be water everywhere, but as soon
as I woke up, one of them said “ oh you’re awake, we’re off now, you’re on your
own”, and then I was truly awake and
realised where I was. My first thing was to get some clothes on and
get Simo sailing again. The breeze had
returned, I eased off the jib and unlashed the tiller, and very quickly tacked
and got her going. Next was a cuppa and
I was starving, the bacon came to mind and I had a quick look at it, it seemed
to be a bit mouldy round the edges but it would do fine, but hey, I did not
have any bread left, “Bullocks”. My next thought was the bilge. Again I lifted the floor and was shocked to
see a similar amount of water to the night before. Back to the pump and another long slog, I lost
count after 300 pumps, but when it sucked dry my very next thought was the
bread, and I proceeded to sort out the dough and give it a good bashing. Simo
was sailing along well, around 4 knots, a little south of where I wanted to go, but
that’s fine. I dug out the bread tins,
four in total, cut the dough into four, oiled the tins and popped the dough in
each. I put them the chart table and put
a clean tea towel over them to prove, I guess the time must have been about
0900hrs and I was pleased with myself. I
gave Simo some more elbow grease with the pump, but gave up before it sucked
dry. I don’t understand why I was not
taking this seriously. “The fucking boat is leaking like a sieve from somewhere,
and all you’re interested in is stupid bread!”
After the hour, I checked the bread and it had doubled in size, so I got
the oven out, made it up and tied it down with the curtain gadget, turned the
gas on and in ten minutes she was up to temperature. I
popped the first two loaves in, and decided to have a look at why the water was
coming in.
I lifted the boards one by one, and realised I needed to
pump more water out, so had another spell on the pump. Back to the boards in the bow, and I could see
clearly it was coming from in front of the chain locker, I needed a torch, and
must have spent ten minutes trying to find the leak. I thought I could see the water seeping from
around the outlet seacock for the toilet but was not sure. Maybe I was trying too hard to find where the
water was coming in, I dunno. There was
a steady flow coming from behind the chain locker but with the furniture all in
the way, I could not see the source, and it was coming in like a tap opened up,
not quite half, maybe a quarter. Looking
at it up here in the bow, it was more than I thought, and I guess for the first
time I got a bit concerned. I put the
boards back down, and was hungry. I had
forgotten about the bacon, but half hour had gone by since I put the bread in,
I went and had a peak in the oven, another five minutes and it would be done.
I turned my attention to the plotter and got the big chart
out. I slid the curser towards Falmouth,
and it was showing about 800 miles. The
south west tip of Ireland was slightly less.
Next over to La Coruna in north Spain, that was better, 606 miles. I am now starting to think on miles per day. I
suppose you need to be conservative and say the boat should do 80 miles a day. Spain was giving me eight days. I am thinking, mind racing, well maybe not
racing because my mind went to the bread that I turned out, and I popped the
next two loaves in.
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| These loaves were real tasty and I had four |
I put the warm
loaves in the cockpit to cool down, I guess the time was about 1030 hours. In the bright sunny morning, Simo was sailing
along well and making 4 knots. I think
my mind was trying to block out the water coming in, because I took some pics
of the bread and even did some gopro stuff, and on the gopro I even said it is
not a problem. Twenty minutes later I had the biggest juiciest cheese and
tomato sandwich in my hand with a cup of tea sitting in the cockpit.
What follows is the
account of events as I wrote them fresh in my mind as soon as I got to Vigo. I was in a state of shock and was well looked
after by the port officer for the OCC, Alfredo Lagos and his wife, to whom I am
very grateful.
What a fuck up! I
was pretty sure I hit something at 2030 the night before, but never took much
notice. I had seen whales the two previous days, but I
now think it wasn’t a whale to be truthful, I just don’t know. At 1130 that night, I noticed a lot of water
in the bilge, and the trip had been calm. Over three hundred pumps cleared her, but I
was knackered and went to bed after hoving to, woke at 0630 and got up and
started sailing again. As I am making
cup of tea, I noticed water slopping around, took a board up and she was full
of water again. I pumped it out and
decided to make some bread. By 11 am the
bread is done, by noon I had a sandwich, boat sailing fine at 4 knots, and took
another look, more water! I now start to
worry. I get a torch and go forward as that’s
where it seems to be coming from. I
can’t really see anything except a steady stream coming from under the
furniture. I thought I saw water coming
through a seam, but that may be because I was in a bit of a panic. I made tea and my mind was racing. I was checking the plotter for my nearest
destination, it was going to be La Coruna , but that would be 7/10 days
depending what the wind did. It could be
a whole lot worse 14 days. I reasoned that I could not cope with the
whole thing for that amount of time, maybe a couple of days most. I
realised then, I was 67 fucking years old, and what a twat trying to do this on
my own. I pumped some more. I could keep up with it ok. I thought about baling out and pressing the
button, it was midday. I could get
rescued in daylight and in calm conditions. I got hold of Dave’s personal epirb, but could
not get the top off it. I must have spent ten minutes trying, in the end;
I put it down and thought I should stick it out. 40 minutes later, I changed my mind. My head was in a frigging mess. I forced the top off the epirb with a knife
and pressed the button and put the aerial up.
I started to pack some things, I didn’t know what to do. I stopped the boat and she lay hove to, I
pumped up the dinghy and had it by the boat.
An hour had passed and despite looking all round the
horizon, I had seen nothing , what was I expecting ? I grabbed the Spot and lifted the tab that
protects the SOS button I pressed it, so now I had two chances .
The next bit is a saga, so will cut it short. I saw a boat 45 minutes later, 8 miles away on
the AIS, and spent an hour calling it on VHF. By then they were only 3 miles away but I
could not see them. After 1 hour, I made
contact, their English was very poor, but eventually they headed my way. They were only doing 8 knots the whole time. I fired some distress flares, 5 in total. One semi backfired and burnt my hand, two
more did not work, and two did work. I
then saw them coming, and it was a fishing boat. They stood off, and I threw some bags in the
dinghy. I went below to pull out the
speedo impeller because I was worried she would stay afloat and be a danger for
a couple of days, then came out, got in the dinghy and rowed to the fishing
boat, where they hauled me aboard with my gear.
That’s the last I remember because I just broke down. The fishing boat was bound for Vigo from the
grand banks after 2 months fishing, and would take four days to get there. Those four days are some of the worst I have
experienced, although I am extremely grateful. I spoke to Falmouth coast guard
on the satellite phone and they got my Jackie on a link so I could tell her I
was safe.
I stayed in a hotel in Vigo and then flew back to the UK the
following Monday afternoon before taking a train north to Retford the next day.
It has been almost like having a death in the family, and I
am devastated. I have to say that the O.C.C.
have been fantastic, in fact the port
officer for Vigo met me when the fishing boat docked on Friday night, and I
have nothing but praise for them.
Mick
ps I will post a lot more stuff on the blog in the future , there is so much to be said about the whole trip not just this last bad bit , also the podcasts I am told are a blast and very funny, up to now there are 18 and they are here http://www.youtube.com/user/TheFlyingPlectrum
there is so much sailing film but I need to sort it out so please be patient
