Blinded by the light

Some years ago a friend and I were sailing back up to Bristol from Falmouth.

I usually liked to do the trip in one go, so we may not have been at our most alert by the time we were somewhere between Ilfracombe and Foreland Point at night and spotted bright red lights directly on our intended course. Nothing appeared to be on the chart and whatever it was it was big and brightly lit so we would have to go around it.

We tried to give it a wide berth but we had no idea how far away it was or which direction, if any, it was moving in. The lights did not get any dimmer and remained too close to our course for comfort. How big was this thing?

I don’t remember how long we spent trying to avoid it but I do remember the mixture of relief and red faced embarrassment when I realised we had been trying to sail around Cardiff airport, the bright lights of which, perched as they are – close to the shore, had utterly confused us. mobile phone in my pocket. I called him and got a rather bleary ‘hello’. He quickly came to, checked we were clear and then let me out. Phew! passing powerboat, asked for a tow to the marina, and agreed terms. The crew and I fitted the emergency steering gear, set up the towline and bridle and off we went — practically at planing speed — while we wrestled with the jury steering.

VHF communication was difficult. As we approached the dock entrance, we steered a little up-tide to ferry glide in across the ebb, alarming our rescuers somewhat, but we shot the gate perfectly.

Thankfully, the smoke subsided and when the engine bay was cool, we had a look. The automatic extinguisher was never hot enough to discharge. The impeller was intact, the engine was OK and it started

— but there was no cooling water. Then the penny dropped — I hadn’t opened the raw water seacock!