TRAPPED IN A LOCKER
A marine engineer shares the terrifying ordeal of getting stuck headfirst on his own boat
I’m not an amateur. I’ve never had to call the RNLI in years and years and years of boating and working on boats – other than this time, and for it to be something so ridiculous is totally embarrassing.
As it happens I was working on my own boat on a Lymington River mooring, fitting a new heater inside the aft lazarette locker, port side. It is quite a contained space and I dropped a bolt, which naturally dropped all the way down and hit the hull. I leant in to retrieve it but my arm wasn't quite long enough. As I edged in a bit further I suddenly went in head first.
The locker is about the same size as me and I got jammed. My head struck the hull and my face was pressed against the bottom of the boat, it was horrendous. It took me a few minutes to realise the seriousness of the situation. Clearly I tried to get out but with the shape of the hull, all slidey surfaces, there was nothing to push against. I was in a lot of pain because I’d bashed the top of my head and my shoulder was trapped against some of the woodwork that supports the rudder. I was pretty much jammed. I used to spend a fair amount of time working at heights. One of the main things I was taught was that if you fall and end up upside down, it’s far more serious than if you’re just dangling from a harness because all your vital organs start compressing your lungs, making it difficult to breathe – you cannot get enough oxygen around your body.
So I knew I wasn’t going to survive for long in my predicament. Thankfully my phone was in my pocket, but it wasn’t easy to get it out. I was terrified I’d end up dropping it and it slipping away out of arm’s reach.
999 EMERGENCY
Because of the position I was in, I had difficulty seeing the phone display. I managed to call 999 but it took me a while. I said: ‘I’ve fallen in the bilge on my boat, I need some help as quickly as possible.’
They bombard you with questions, but the lady I spoke to was wonderful, despite the fact I was swearing a bit! She kept talking to me until she heard the voices of the lifeboat crew as they arrived on the scene.
From the time I made the call to the lifeboat’s arrival took about 40 minutes – it seemed like forever.
The call operator was talking to me throughout the entire ordeal, it really helped to pass the time. I never got her name, I would like to thank her.
It was about lunchtime on 22 March, the RNLI called it ‘the Mother’s Day Rescue’.
When the lifeboat crew arrived on board, they didn’t see me at first. There was just a pair of Wellington boots sticking up out of the locker.
They went inside the cabin. I couldn’t muster enough breath to shout but they found me eventually. It took three of them to lift me out by my legs. I weigh 190 pounds. I couldn’t assist them at all.
A CLOSE CALL
I would not have survived for very much longer. Without my phone I’d be dead, no doubt about it.
The lifeboat crew were terrific. Jamie was the first to get to me. They stuck me on some oxygen. I was in a bit of a state.
I wouldn’t have been able to stand up unaided but after a few minutes on the oxygen I managed to get into the lifeboat alright and was taken ashore.
The Coastguard had turned up in a fourwheel drive vehicle but they didn’t have a boat to reach me. It was the RNLI who had the boat they were very well equipped and very highly trained.
I’ve cruised the Atlantic several times and have actually done it on my boat Wakii. I carry a very good, extensive first aid kit but they didn’t need any of it.
They took me to an ambulance on the Town Quay, where I stayed for about one-and-a-half hours on oxygen and all sorts of other instruments.
Fortunately somebody had called my son. Being in Lymington a lot, I probably know all of the RNLI volunteers.
POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS
My son rocked up and we went back to the boat to lock up and turn the batteries off. I didn’t go on board, I was a bit shaken, so we came home. By the following day I had a huge lump on the
top of my head where I’d hit it on the hull, and my shoulder swelled up. It took me a few days to get over it.
If I hadn’t had my phone I’d be dead now. Who would’ve found me? I couldn’t have called anybody, I couldn’t shout, nobody was on the river – it was a quiet time. It could have been terminal really.
My wife has dementia. In fact I’d told her I was going to the boat but moments after leaving she would have forgotten.
The boat is vitally important to me, as I am my wife’s carer. We’ve been together for 52 years. I’ve known her since she was 18. It’s been a long time, and then to suddenly have her not really understanding much has been so difficult. I’m still working, I’ve chosen to do that, it helps keep me sane. There’s very little help for carers of people with dementia, so my boat is a place of solace.
You hear about post-traumatic stress. I can understand that now. For a couple of days afterwards, I kept reliving the accident. I’m not concerned about going aboard on my own now, but you won’t find me leaning into that locker. I actually still haven’t fitted that heater!
When the lifeboat crew got on my boat, they didn’t see me. There was just a pair of Wellington boots sticking up. I couldn’t muster enough breath to shout