pete goss Visualising danger

We’re wrestling a headsail on the foredeck, a stark deck light illuminates the ring provided by guardrails. There are six of us and we are on the back foot as another wave throws its punch. My periphery vision senses a flash of colour in the maelstrom, instinct grabs a handful of jacket as it floats over the guardrail into Neptune’s embrace. They’re not clipped on; the strength to arrest disaster comes from a burst of adrenalin.

I am incandescent, as clippingon is being hammered home during the British Steel Challenge training. I throw the bundle of foulies on their back and peer into the hood to see who is about to get the bollocking of their life. My anger evaporates at the shock, fear and confusion in those glassy eyes. Someone else had unclipped them. It’s an easy mistake on a busy foredeck, and from now on we will run our hand down the safety strop from chest to jackstay before unclipping.

I am a great believer that you function at your safest in dangerous situations. Reactions are faster, everything slows down and a calm almost detached state promotes objective decisions.

Visualisation is a powerful tool. I think it’s something that I started to learn from my Mum. She had four boys and to keep us from fidgeting in a restaurant she would take us off to another place. What would we do if there was a fire? And we were off in an exciting world of imagination? One would grab all the water jugs and start dousing; another would tear down curtains to smother the flames. Hot plate lids would be banged together to raise the alarm, a chair would be lobbed through the plate glass window for escape.

This essential skill has been honed over time to the point that it’s like a stage in my mind. I am there; I can taste it, smell it and play out every possible scenario until it’s absolutely clear what’s required in terms of equipment and training. It also offers the first step in any scenario and it’s that first step that nails panic to the floor, because in taking it you are no longer passive.

Safety is the primary responsibility of all on board, with standards set by the skipper. Complacency is as deadly as any foe that we face but is rarely given headlines. The main tool in our safety sack is to develop and practice every task into a routine or ritual that becomes part of the subconscious autopilot that quietly protects us. The same one that drives you to the office while your mind is elsewhere.

The worst we suffered on my yacht during the British Steel Challenge was a dislocated shoulder after four months’ fighting all that the Southern Ocean could muster. Six months after the race, without the heightened atmosphere of hostility, I nearly lost a Challenge Yacht within 500m of Plymouth Breakwater. It was a delivery from Dartmouth in an Force 7, which those boats loved. I opted to save half an hour by taking the shallower eastern entrance. The tide had turned, three uncharacteristically large waves came out of nowhere, tripped up on the tide and swept us up. We roared down the face of a breaking wave and broached into a full knock down. The radar strut was ripped off, the wheel and pedestal was bent back trapping me underneath it. The next two waves swept over us with devastating effect.

We were just off a lee shore with no steering and in deep do-do. Luckily the primary winch ground the wheel back up again and it worked. We were lucky. The crime? Complacency. How many times do we look back and say ‘I just knew I shouldn’t have,’ and yet didn’t listen to that primal voice honed over thousands of years. It was a lesson; a stark reminder about complacency.

The lesson my mum taught us has served me well