Suddenly I was in the Water.
24 October 2015 | Portugal
Peter
The boarding ladder that will now always be in place when Salara is at anchor.
Salara was anchored in Portimao, it was half way through September and I had not done much sailing so far this season, a mere 500 miles only. I seem to do less sailing as the years roll by but when I join the other ancient sailors over a lunch and beer we can all talk a good voyage. Some of them have hardly moved out of the marina in years.
It was all very pleasant but I decided to make a move with the vague idea of going to Cadiz, Spain. My intention was to spend a night in the anchorage at Culatra and continue to Cadiz the next day. I would arrive during the hours of darkness but it would not be a problem. That was the plan anyway and I had fitted the rudder to the Hydrovane self steering in anticipation.
One morning at the civilised hour of 10.30am I lifted the anchor and left Portimao for Culatra. True to form the wind deserted Salara after an hour and so we chugged along the coast over a calm sea in a very lazy fashion steered by the autopilot with me reading about the life and times of Genghis Khan on my Kindle. As Salara approached the Faro/Olhau entrance which leads into Culatra I noticed that things did not look quite as they should, she seemed too close inshore. On investigation I found that I had entered the wrong waypoint into the autopilot. A very careless mistake which would have become apparent much earlier had I been plotting regular positions on the chart instead of being so involved with Genghis Khan. The majority of my navigational and pilotage mistakes always occur in familar waters, there has to be a lesson there somewhere.
Once in the anchorage I noticed yachts belonging to friends of mine so my plans were put on hold for a few days. Next day it was lunch as usual at one of the local restuarants and this happy pattern continued for the next couple of days giving the wind a chance to go round to the east and confound my trip to Cadiz.
One day after a particularly long lunch we all continued enjoying ourselves on another yacht in the anchorage and the time passed by pleasantly with more wine, nibbles and interesting conversation. As it got dark we decided to head back to our respective yachts and we all boarded our dinghies. Mine was still suffering from a leak in the bow section which by then was very much deflated. As it was only a short distance through the darkness to Salara I decided to row across stern first rather than pump up the bow section again. No problem, the sea was flat calm and I arrived and tied up alongside Salara. All was secure so I started to climb on board.
Splash! Suddenly I was in the water. I struck out for the surface wondering how the hell it had happened as I was not planning a late night swim. At this point even though the boarding ladder was not in place I was not too worried, the water was warm, it was calm and there was no current, all I had to do was climb back on board the dinghy. After several failed attempts I realised that I could not do it. I could not climb onto Salara either, even with the help of the dinghy painter that was securely tied to a stanchion base. This had become a serious situation.
There was only one thing left to do, I had to shout for help and I must say that the prospect of a watery grave added volume to my cries.
Luckily for me it was relatively early in the evening and people were still sitting in their cockpits, within minutes a French couple from a nearby yacht appeared, they pulled me out like a half drowned rat and helped me aboard Salara. I stripped off my wet clothes, had a shower and a cup of tea before going to bed none the worse for my ducking.
However my pride had taken a severe beating. Over the years I have pulled quite a few people out of the water some sober some drunk and I had always thought that it could never happen to me.
However it did and it occured mainly because I had drunk too much alcohol coupled with the fact that I was using a dinghy which was not properly inflated and as such was unstable. It was dark and normally I try to avoid doing dinghy work in the dark but that day circumstances had overtaken me.
Had this happened in the cold waters of UK I could have been in a dire situation as I would have been wearing heavy clothing against the cold which would have further impeded my efforts to keep afloat and clamber on board.
I had only been wearing shorts and a shirt and I still could not get out of the water without the help of the French couple who left early the next morning so I did not have a chance to thank them properly.
In future when Salara is at anchor I shall make sure that I have the boarding ladder always in place on the side of the hull.
The next morning I awoke still feeling embarassed by my own stupidity as well as lucky to be able to do so. That lunchtime my story was greeted by hoots of laughter from the assembled yachties so I ate a large slice of humble pie and strictly rationed my intake of beer.
The following morning I crept away from Culatra and headed back to Portimao. I did try to redeem myself by lifting the anchor and leaving under sail but my skill went unnoticed. I shall be remembered only as that old drunk who fell overboard.