I Nearly Killed Someone The Other Day...

A friend in one of the local sailing clubs sent us this article today; it's very much related to the earlier article here about Signal Flags, and tells the story of a nasty situation that could happen to anyone...


I nearly killed someone the other day...

We were returning from our spring cruise to Cornwall taking advantage of easterly winds all the way down channel to Fowey and westerly winds all the way home. We had started motoring early morning across Lyme Bay on the leg from Brixham to Weymouth but by the time we were two thirds across it was blowing a stiff westerly F5, blasting us across the Portland Race 2½ miles south of the Bill then swinging us north east to avoid the Shambles, aiming to leave Portland breakwater to port. With the sun out, and the wind on our quarter, it was “champagne sailing” making around 8 knots through the water plus a knot or two of fair tide, giving a SOG of well over 10 knots.

We had passed numerous lobster pots throughout the morning and especially on the east side of the Isle of Portland. They were generally brightly coloured red or pink, easy to spot and avoid, despite the choppy conditions.

We first noticed an orange coloured fishing boat apparently picking up its pots about a mile dead downwind of us, moving slowly – as they generally do – from buoy to buoy. The fisherman’s heading was always bows on to us.

As we closed on this particular group of pots, aiming to leave the fishing boat to a cable or so to port we noticed that there appeared to be more buoys than ever. Only they weren’t buoys – they were BOYS, being a scattering of surfaced divers each holding a round red inflatable(?) paddle identical in shape and colour to the surrounding lobster pots.

Too late to avoid the group without broaching or “Chinese gybing” under full sail, we shot through the middle of the divers with some nifty sail trimming, missing all of them by at least a boat’s length, although it felt much closer. It was only at this point, as we came abeam of the fishing boat, that we noticed it wasn’t actually fishing but had been chartered for diving and was flying just a single small flag “A” about 9” square above the coachroof.

The prospect of the impact on a human being from a 5 ton boat travelling at speed does not bear thinking about.

We duly exchanged shouts with the fishing/diving boat– he gesticulating and pointing to his pathetic little "A" flag, entirely invisible from upwind, and us bellowing about him not issuing a Ch16 vhf “Securité” warning if he was carrying out underwater activity less than a mile from Portland Harbour entrance on a busy summer Sunday afternoon. We suspect, however, that both exchanges were well lost in the breeze! 

Lessons learned for both of us? A reminder for us that at sea “if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it ISN’T necessarily a duck” and perhaps for him – please take a leaf out of those responsible Solent and Poole Bay diving charterers and display “A Boards” which are clearly visible for 360 degrees.

In Command Of an Antarctic Supply Ship

The Watchkeepers of NCI Gosport come from many and various diferent backgrounds.  Unsurprisingly, given the population of Gosport, some come from the armed services, and others have long maritime experience.  Others bring skills honed in industrial or commercial arenas.  But some have seen and done things that the rest of us can only dream about…  as in this article sent in by a Watchkeeper who, for reasons of anonymity, we will call Captain ‘SJL’. Despite his grey hair and beard, he stands more watches that any other Watchkeeper and you may hear him on our VHF Channel 65 from time to time.

In Command Of an Antarctic Supply Ship

Submitted by Captain ‘SJL’, MBF RD RNR

It was in November 1974 that I took over command of the RRS Bransfield, the British Antarctic Survey's (BAS) ice-strengthened logistics vessel supporting the 5 scientific research stations that BAS operated in the British Antarctic Territory. The RRS Bransfield, 4816 grt, 1577 nrt, launched in Leith in 1970, of Lloyds 100 A1, Ice class 1,325 ft in length, 60ft in beam, 22 ft draught, service speed 13.5 knots. Diesel electric propulsion with a controllable pitch propeller. The bow plating was 32mm and the side plating 28mm.

 

 

After rudder problems whilst crossing the  North Atlantic resulting in our having to dry dock in Baltimore; we did not depart the BAS Grytviken research station on South Georgia 54S 37W bound towards the BAS Halley research  station on the Brunt Ice Shelf 75 30S 26 40W, until the beginning of February, 2 months later than  the ideal date for departure. Despite the fact that we had, thanks to the Americans, an approximation of the pack ice edge and vague details of the ice cover of the Weddell Sea, we were still to follow, at least as far as Halley a similar route to that taken by Ernest Shackleton 60 years earlier. 

We knew that by applying the "Golden Rule" to avoid having to work pack ice when one could sail round it, it made sense for us to follow the northern ice edge eastwards to a longitude which gave us the shortest passage through the pack ice before arriving at the Continent - so we followed the pack ice edge eastwards as far as Southern Thule, the southernmost island of the South Sandwich Islands. This still gave us at least 600 n.miles of pack ice to navigate. Needless to say, we arrived in our planned position 60S 20W to head south in darkness in the "normal" storm force winds, such that the ice floes on the edge were being picked up and tossed around like leaves. So with all three searchlights blazing and one radar on short range in an attempt to assess the pack ice coverage and the leads therein the other radar on a longer range to pick up the positions of all icebergs, I made my slow speed entry into the maelstrom, heart in mouth and a short prayer to Poseidon.

I should point out, at this stage, that we were carrying all the materiel for a rebuild of the station, plus a 64 strong building team and my 36 strong crew; so I was under pressure to make up the time lost, if possible.  I knew that I had approximately 900 miles of pack ice to work and, given the normal 8 octas of cloud cover, my only method navigation since leaving Southern Thule was to plot a significant iceberg ahead on our intended route with the hope that there would be another one beyond that and so on, such that I was at least able to have a vague idea of our position. The only other alternative was from the record of headings and times on each heading to at least attempt to work out a DR, but given the frequent variations in heading and speed this would be singularly inaccurate. 

Fortunately, as we progressed, slowly, further and further south, we began to get 24 hours daylight although the pack ice conditions did not improve until we were about 72S, where one meets a shore lead created by the cold air, winds, flowing off the continent. From that point to Halley was about another two days steaming. Now as we only had a very approximate idea of our position and one  section of ice cliff looks much the same as the next, it was only thanks to the common sense of the  scientists at Halley, who had built a colossal "H" out of 45 gallon drums on the most prominent  headland in their vicinity, that we were able to establish that we had arrived at the correct position,  such that all that was left to do was to create an "ice port", secure alongside, and commence  discharge with International Harvester bulldozers and sledges up an ice ramp from the sea ice to the  Station, approximately 10km from the ice cliff edge. 

 

View of the Bransfield anchored at the ice cliff edge, Halley, unloading supplies, 1974. 

(Photographer: Richard Maitland Laws; photo credit BAS Archives ref: AD6/19/3/B128)

A very respectable 9 day passage. Subsequently I completed 30 of these passages and despite the advent of GPS, satellite photograph receivers and drones, on the worst occasion it took me 30 days, we have been keeled over by 20 degrees, and the stern has been lifted so far out of the water as to make the propeller useless, hence it should be no wonder that my hair and beard are white!! 

Captain ‘SJL’ MioS