Learning from Experience
Alan England and his partner, Rose, manage to get their new boat safely from Turkey to Malta despite failures of both the rig and the engine
Pan Pan was not in the plan
In 2003 our faithful Finnsailer 36 was replaced by Linga Linga, a 1990 Moody 376. She was kept at Yat Lift boat yard in Bodrum, Turkey, so in May 2004, my partner Rose and I flew out of Malta for Bodrum via Istanbul. With excess baggage distributed in our clothing, we looked like Michelin Man tyre advertisements!
Inauspicious start
Upon arrival, things started to go wrong. The engineer told us Linga Linga was not ready, despite having had nine months to prepare the boat. His remit had been to replace all standing rigging including the forestay, to ensure the engine was fully serviced and to replace any component as required. We also enhanced Linga Linga’s seaworthiness with new sails, a new anchor and a further 35m of chain. We paid our engineer’s bill, received his signed certificate stating ‘All Rigging Replaced’, and launched six weeks late.
Following the trials of Turkish customs administration for clearing Linga Linga to leave, our voyage took us to Aspat Koyu, Kos Harbour, and to Greek customs officials, where all went smoothly.
We continued to Kamaris, Asypalaia, Mirsini, Ios and Milos where our sleep was shattered when the island erupted in celebration of Greece winning the UEFA European Football Championship. On to Port Kaio, Cape Matapan, Methoni. We anchored at Kiparissa to await a favourable forecast for the 250 mile hop to Malta; this eventually took nine days and 380 miles!
Forestay failure
On 14 July, we set sail with forecasts from Hamburg, Greece and our Navtex all promising a north-west Force 5 for the next three days.
How wrong they were. At 7am the next day, sailing close-hauled 100 miles from Kiparrisa and 150 miles from Malta the wind was up to a Force 7 and the sea state was becoming rough. As I attempted
to reduce sail by furling the genoa there was loud bang. The forestay had failed and the furling drum was smashing against the pulpit. I quickly turned downwind to take the strain off the mast.
I needed to effect a jury rig, so having checked Rose could maintain a downwind course, I harnessed myself to the rolling boat and crawled forward. An hour later I had managed to jury rig the self-furling gear and forestay with four spare halyards. I nearly became a eunuch from the flailing gear but the boat was fairly seaworthy and no one had fallen overboard.
It would have been sensible to return to Kiparrisa with the wind behind us. However, this would see us stuck in Greece for months completing repairs and I’d promised Rose I would get her to Malta by August. So I started our Ford engine, the ‘Iron Lady’. All was well for five hours: we were making a steady five knots towards Malta when a cooling hose split causing total loss of coolant. I heaved to and Rose attempted a repair with duct tape without success. She also kept watch, prepared meals and steered.
By now, darkness was approaching and things were getting serious, so I sent out a Pan-Pan, which was acknowledged by Rome and a nearby small German coaster bound for Syracuse. The wind was forecast to reach Force 8 and he offered a tow, which I declined as this would be the end of Linga Linga; in those conditions we would soon be dragged under and sink!
A sleepless night
We spent a sleepless night hove-to. The next day, I decided to attempt to sail 200 miles to Porto Palo, Sicily, under jury rig. We needed to conserve battery power in case a Mayday call was required, which meant manual steering and little rest.
We couldn’t risk having the sail up in more than Force 4 and could not sail closer than 100° to the wind. As the days passed, we realised we were not able to sail sufficiently close to the wind to make Porto Palo! We called up a liner requesting that the Italian rescue authorities be made aware of our progress. It was reassuring when a clipped English voice offered assistance, which we declined.
Eight days later we were 20 miles off the south-east coast of Malta and within mobile telephone range, enabling us to call a friend for assistance. We thought he’d send out a motorboat to tow us into the marina, but two days later we were in nearly the same position, with the north-west wind preventing us from sailing to our destination.
With no change forecast, we risked our next stop being Libya. At midnight we heard an engine and became illuminated by the 27m Malta Armed Forces patrol boat P51. The cavalry had arrived!
Costly tow
We were questioned about our plight and informed a tow would cost r1,000 per hour! I asked for a commercial tow, so they sent a RIB across to negotiate terms. The RIB had no painter and we had to make them fast alongside using our lines. Eventually, we negotiated a rate of r350/hour.
Having made up a towing bridle and tow-rope connection to P51, we set off, soon having to ask the skipper to slow down. Six hours later our tow was transferred to a 15m patrol boat P23. I fell into a sound sleep from exhaustion. Six hours later, in the early hours of 22 July, I was woken to find we’d reached the marina. Hooray! With great skill we were nudged into our berth to be greeted by our neighbours and a cup of tea. My mission was accomplished; Rose had reached Malta by August, after nine days and 380 miles sailed without engine and with vastly restricted sailing ability, so maybe I hadn’t done too badly.
‘I realised that this would be the end of Linga Linga, as in those conditions we would soon be dragged under and sink!’