Hair-raising engine failure
Disaster avoided... but only just
Fourth is not where you want to be in any kind of race, but I like the numeral ‘4’. True it’s only got one leg, but it does have a nice symmetry to it in a compact, neat sort of way. The Army is very good at using numbers to synchronise activities – from the mundane on the drill square, to stripping and assembling a deadly weapon blindfolded in the rain. Having said that, I cannot think of any Army use of the number four, as all actions only seem to need a maximum of three, except of course for haircuts.
I was aware that a No1 was a pretty short cut, though had never given it much thought until the other day when getting my skipper’s haircut – one of the last preparations for my sailing trip. The female Thai barber asked what number I wanted. I hadn’t a clue of course, and instructions such as ‘Oh, just a tidy up’ or ‘not too short’ were simply not clear enough for her. Fortunately her Polish male colleague was able to assist and suggested a No4. Well, all I can say is that I now look like a slightly hairy gooseberry, so Heaven knows what a No1 is like.
Pippin, my Frances 34 Pilothouse, and I set out from St Peter Port on our first sail in nearly three months. It was a cool breezy day, peaking at 19 knots from the cold north, but the sea was kind and we managed all sorts of this and thats, not least practising at keeping my lunch down whilst inside the wheelhouse.
All went swimmingly, so I decided that a night in Fermain Bay would be just the ticket before turning south for St Helier the next day: all this, prior to a longer passage across the Channel as a prelude to the ‘big off’.
It was in buoyant mood that I slipped the mainsail down and motored gently into the rocky, cliff-lined bay. Finding the spot, I slipped Pippin into reverse to stop all eight tonnes of her gliding... but to no avail.
Despite appropriate engine noises, Pippin ignored all instructions and continued sedately towards the rocks, now barely 30m away, 2 hours after low tide.
Well, I might be an old codger, but boy you should have seen me move! My 15kg Rocna was down with his chain before you could shout ‘anchor!’ and Pippin obediently drew up, her stern 15m from the rocks and with just 0.1m – yes 0.1m – of saltwater beneath her keel.
The thing about cliff bays is that communications can be intermittent for obvious reasons, VHF being line-of-sight as I had discovered up in the north of Scotland. Anyway, trying my best to sound calm and dignified, I eventually managed to explain my predicament to Guernsey Coastguard on VHF Ch20. They kindly put out a call for any boat to assist me and the Brecqhou Chief soon came speeding to my assistance like a shining blue knight on horseback.
In the meantime I had contacted the engineers who had only just reinstalled Pippin’s propeller and shaft and, under their instructions, confirmed that deep down in the recesses something was turning when I engaged the gears.
Brecqhou Chief bustled up – all water jets, throbbing diesels and curious passengers – and took my ropes and handed me over 30 minutes later to the harbour official in his dory in St Peter Port.
“Heavy one, this one sir,” said the official, revving his 20hp outboard in a vain attempt to turn Pippin into the stiff north easterly. With assistance from the bow thruster and two drunk Dutch sailors, we got Pippin alongside with only one minor ramming incident – shouldn’t have been in my way.
It was only then that the full scale of what had happened in the previous three hours hit me and I suddenly felt in need of a very stiff glass of hair restorer.
Next day, the engineer sheepishly reported that the shaft had uncoupled from the engine. Fortunately, Pippin’s drive system is arranged in such a way that the shaft and propeller cannot slip out of the boat, for if they had Pippin would surely have sunk, fast – albeit in only 10cm of water!
The moral of this story is never assume that all work done is always to the correct standard, and always thoroughly test your boat before heading off for any distance
I should also add that when your rescue does arrive, ensure you’re ready for them, with sufficiently long and strong warps and fenders to both sides. And then, when you’re under tow, take the helm to help out with steering and make the job of towing easier: Pippin’s bulk was enough to pose a challenge to the skipper of the rescue boat.
I don’t suppose all of this all happened because I had a No4 haircut... but you never know.
‘Despite appropriate engine noises, Pippin ignored all instructions and continued sedately towards the rocks’