Walking on Water - A Cautionary Tale - 12:35 AM, May. 4, 2005

Having been encouraged by another YBW forumite I have decided to reveal to the sailing world what a complete prat I am in the hope that this will lessen the chances of a worse fate befalling others.

The Incident:

Drove up to Craobh last Thursday to crew on Avilion in the Chentleman's Cruise. Arrived about 2100, met skipper Dave, stowed gear, second crew member Donald arrived and we were having a welcome aboard drink when Dave's 'phone rang. Claymore's crew were in the Lord of the Isles and our presence was requested. The craic was convivial and I had 3 Piper's Gold in fairly short order bringing my drinks total to 4ish for the evening. The party broke up after discussing sailing orders for Friday.

Donald went to the car park for his gear while Dave sped off down the pontoons which were in complete darkness owing to an electrical fault. I hurried along after Dave, he turned to starboard onto Avilion's finger, I cut the corner and fell in the water. Dave didn't hear the splash as I hit the bracing waters of Craobh Haven in April and Donald was probably 10 or 15 minutes behind. Details of the next few seconds/minutes are slightly blurred but I managed to drag myself out by getting my elbows on the pontoon and my right leg up and around a cleat which I used to lever the rest of me out - I think. I stumbled, dripping, aboard Avilion, stripped off, towelled down, fleeced up and had a large malt.

The Analysis:

It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't had a drink. It's true and it's easy to say but while it plays a significant part, alcohol is not the whole story. I'd not had a lot to drink (by my own degenerate standards anyway) and while my physical functioning was not much impaired (apart from reaction time) my judgement was. I was also on a high from meeting my shipmates and fellow cruisers and looking forward to the weekend's doings and I felt confident and at ease with the world.

My skipper was moving very fast and weaving in a manner which alarmed me (but he was in familiar waters) and I wanted to keep an eye on things (hah!) and so I was going faster than I knew was prudent but hey, I felt confident and at ease with the world.

The pontoons were unlit and Avilion's finger does not have the flared base that all the others do (on any other finger my right foot would probably have found solid pontoon as I cut the corner and you wouldn't be reading this now) but what kind of idiot hurries along an unlit, unfamiliar pontoon after a few drinks?

I was lucky to get out. I'm an old git with a stent and a poor score in post-operative lifestyle improvement and I'm neither fit nor strong. It's possible that I owe my life to the precise freeboard of Craobh's lower than average pontoons; a few inches higher and I might not have had the strength or agility to lift myself out.

Points to Ponder:

I don't wear jeans when sailing, mainly on grounds of comfort, but I'll never wear them anywhere near water again. They are very heavy when wet and seriously restrict your ability to move your legs after the sodden crotch has slipped several inches down your thighs.

I didn't call for help and I'm not sure why. You hear tales of those who are so reserved that they can't do better than "Excuse me!" when in mortal danger but I don't think I'm in that category. I suspect I simply didn't reach the stage where I thought I couldn't extricate myself. The chances of anyone hearing me in an empty, windy, west coast marina at midnight on a Thursday are probably not high. Even had someone heard, how long would it have taken to locate me, bobbing about in the triangle formed by a bow and two sections of pontoon in a blacked-out marina? In most situations though, calling for help must be a priority. It's an MOB and the general principles are the same in a marina as elsewhere.

I could suggest that the wearing of a life-jacket at all times is a good idea but in this case I'm sure that an inflated life-jacket would have made it much harder, if not impossible, for me to haul myself out. It might have kept me afloat for long enough for help to arrive but I had plenty to hang onto anyway. My right leg took a beating (both on the way in and during the scramble out) but while I didn't hit my head on anything, a self-inflating life-jacket might have been my only hope if I had.

The cold didn't seem to be a factor so I guess I wasn't in for very long. The sea temperature was probably about 9 Celsius. On a positive note, I'd always imagined that my dicky ticker would give out if I was plunged into cold water and this didn't happen but perhaps my clothing lessened the shock. I was wearing a light goretex jacket over a dense fleece and ordinary shirt with jeans and deck shoes.

I'll not stop drinking around the water though I'll be a damn sight more circumspect for a while (easy to say now that the Chentleman's Cruise is over but, of course, it's only the start of the season) but I really need to learn to rein in my exuberance when appropriate. Will this be possible? I honestly think that one of the key factors in this little episode was my state of excitement at the upcoming first cruise of the season in company.

So there you have it. Lots for me to think about and perhaps something to give you pause for thought too? Sailing is a risk sport and probably most so when you feel safest.

The Chentleman's Cruise itself was Top Fun but I'll save that for another entry!