shanemax
Active member
I pride my self on knowing the Orwell like the back of my hand. I only draw 1.2 meter so on a rising tide I know all the short cuts across the drying parts. On Friday evening 150923 at 20.00 hours my engine gave up the ghost in Harwich Harbour. The harbour had a very confused sea and about 1 knot of wind. I was glad to get out of the harbour and into the Orwell. This is where the fun part began. It was pitch black and the mist was coming up. As I came down the river at approx 2 knots,( that was one knot of incoming tide and one knot of sails) I started going from flashing green to flashing green. At times the wind dropped to nothing and the head sail hung limp. The boat started travelling side ways and then there would be a flurry of wind enough wind to fill and shape the sail. What got me most was I did not know where I was.
I had my chart plotter on but there was absolutely nothing to recognise. Moored boats came out of the gloom at the last second. It was as if I had never been in this river before. It is so easy with local knowledge to take a river for granted but tonight I am the new boy. I got down to near the bridge and thought I am going to anchor for the night. when I woke in the morning to clear weather I was at least a quarter of a mile from where I thought I was. You will say, but he had his chart plotter, believe me after two hours of seeing only green flashing lights, and fear of a ship coming up the channel while I was just drifting and the game your mind plays when you are not fully in control I realised I must have been suffering from spatial disorientation. Yes I should have anchored at the top of the Orwell but I was suffering from "get me home itus"
I had my chart plotter on but there was absolutely nothing to recognise. Moored boats came out of the gloom at the last second. It was as if I had never been in this river before. It is so easy with local knowledge to take a river for granted but tonight I am the new boy. I got down to near the bridge and thought I am going to anchor for the night. when I woke in the morning to clear weather I was at least a quarter of a mile from where I thought I was. You will say, but he had his chart plotter, believe me after two hours of seeing only green flashing lights, and fear of a ship coming up the channel while I was just drifting and the game your mind plays when you are not fully in control I realised I must have been suffering from spatial disorientation. Yes I should have anchored at the top of the Orwell but I was suffering from "get me home itus"