A very, very lucky girl indeed !!

Sheep of the Bow said:
Evening all. Just talked to Prue, who mentioned I had a read of this forum for some ego-stroking. The speculation makes some interesting reading, and I'll post our end if the story if you chaps would like, but I'd call it less spectacular seamanship on our part, more a series of lucky events.

Steve,
GBR7509R
Jeez-Louise
Click to expand...

Yes please!

Edit: Thanks Flaming - found it on sailing Anarchy.
 
Last edited:
Sheep of the Bow said:
Evening all. Just talked to Prue, who mentioned I had a read of this forum for some ego-stroking. The speculation makes some interesting reading, and I'll post our end if the story if you chaps would like, but I'd call it less spectacular seamanship on our part, more a series of lucky events.

Steve,
GBR7509R
Jeez-Louise
Click to expand...

Just read your account "elsewhere".

Fair play if you want to play it down, but I'm still deeply impressed.
 
;)
flaming said:
Just read your account "elsewhere".
Click to expand...

Ha - yes, afraid I normally loiter on SA. He it is...


Wrote this up for a couple of people. Thought you guys might like a read.

S.


After an enjoyable Cork Week 2010 my Uncle, Rachel our tactician and myself left to deliver Jeez-Louise back to the RSrnYC, Hamble on the Saturday morning. The forecast was due to build from a WSW F5 to a F6 and swing to the SW that evening, and so we set out expecting an interesting night of it.
By 0100, we were around 35nm NW of Lands End, making our way through fairly large seas in a solid F7, with the odd gust hitting 34kn. Illness had unfortunately confined the Uncle to a leeward bunk, and seen me tucking him in with a bucket and bottle of water for the night at about 2000. Rachel and I had just had a discussion about what our options were if the weather deteriorated further, as we were already under a fully reefed main with no headsail, when the previously silent VHF sprung to life.
One of the two Reflex 38s belonging to Sailing Logic, Puma and Jaguar (I'm afraid I forget which), was broadcasting a mayday relay from Buccaneer, a First 40.7 - one of their crew had gone overboard. Luckily, the J109 Jukebox was a little closer to Lands End than we were, and spent the rest of the night doing a fantastic job of co-ordinating the rescue with Falmouth Coastguard. The MOB position was about 10nm back up our track, and so after discovering that we were the closest boat to the scene, turned about.
During the 90 or so minutes it took us to broad reach over to Buccaneer, a fair amount happened. Only one of the Logic boats was able to assist, the other being to windward and very rightly deciding that running in the conditions would be too dangerous - we made a gybe and it was obvious that many more would destroy the mainsheet setup fairly quickly. Rescue 169, an RAF Sea King had been dispatched from Wales via Culdrose and arrived on scene a few minutes before we did, while two Cornish lifeboats had departed. A French yacht returning from Cork had diverted and Jukebox were a few miles on our stern. Buccaneer had fallen utterly silent since their initial broadcast, with all of us trying in vain to get more details.
During those ninety minutes, we broke out all our safety kit and tested things such as our searchlight, with me quietly thanking God that a failed Fastnet attempt last year meant the boat had one, and a JonBuoy on the stern. Rachel did a fantastic job of manning the radio and, in the odd quiet moment, hitting a bunk and sleeping (I'm desperately jealous of her capacity to sleep in any ****uation...). She also made the welcome point that a parachute flare in the presence of a helicopter may not have been my brightest idea (in my defence, I was shattered) and there was the odd moment of amusement. As I drove, Rachel appeared at the hatch asking how to turn on a flashlight. Before I had a chance to reply I was blinded by the thing as she figured it out whilst aiming it directly at my head. Then there was the Logic boat who was asked by the helicopter as to the sea state. He immediately replied 'rough,' waited a few seconds whilst I assume thinking he'd been out in worse than this, and very composedly corrected himself with a 'moderate to rough.' At least someone had seen worse than this!
During the odd darker moment, we judged her survival chances as being non-existent, and that if we did find her body, we were only capable of marking it - with just two of us, getting anyone aboard in such a vile sea would be too risky. I made an arbitrary guess at the drift rate of a person in the sea state and so we headed for just below it, with the plan of working upwind from there.
As we arrived on station to leeward of the other boats and helicopter, Rachel fired up the spotlight as I drove, scanning the seas around us. After a few minutes, Rach made her way below to check something out and I was left in darkness when I thought I could hear voices. At this stage, I thought I was hallucinating, as there was no chance I could be hearing other crews over the waves - it never really occurred that someone would actually be there. Nevertheless, I figured I may as well tack on it and then heard another faint cry. Still thinking I was on a sleep-deprived trip, I shouted out whether there was anyone there, and heard a 'here!' Diving for the search lamp, I screamed 'shout louder!' and started wildly scanning in the direction of the voice. Utterly amazingly, there was a person bobbing fifteen meters from the boat. Convinced I had now started seeing and hearing things, she may well have been asked whether she was the person who had fallen overboard or not - the answer being rather obvious in hindsight. As she passed to leeward, I fired the JonBuoy off the transom as the boat passed a few meters from her, hoping my delusion hadn't just cost the owner a lot of money. annoyingly, I misjudged how long they take to inflate (expecting an airbag, but getting a balloon being inflated by an asthmatic) and despite her best front crawl, it scooted downwind past her by a couple of meters.
Whilst this was going on above deck, Rachel was below trying to break through all the traffic on ch16 to get the message through. Once done, she was straight on deck to take the light from me. By now we had started to drift away from her as the boat stalled and we had to bare away - my fault as I was hardly concentrating on driving. The final words we heard from her were cries for help - although with hindsight this could have haunted me forever, at the time my immediate reaction was 'what the f**k do you think we turned around in this s**t for!?' Luckily I only muttered that quietly, but screamed that the helicopter would be there soon. After that, we lost her and concentrated on staying relatively stationary whilst the helicopter homed in on us - we had to use the spotlight to illuminate the main anyway, and stand off when we were sure they were in the right spot.
Huge credit to the guys in the helicopter. They worked upwind from the JonBuoy only meters above the water, and we could see someone being lowered in the rather impressive array of lights those things have - it looked like Close Encounters, but at night and with horizontal spray. The next thing I knew, as I switched to driving the boat, was as the helicopter picked up speed and altitude, bearing away towards land. I don't think I could possibly describe the all-encompassing joy that the three of us felt at that sight - they confirmed she was in good spirits and was off for a trip to Truro A&E.
We made it into Falmouth that evening and called the hospital the next morning. Prue, the lady we found, and the crew of Buccaneer had their own story to tell. It transpires that she slipped across the back of the boat whilst tethered on, but fell through the port pushpit and was being drowned as she was dragged through the water - as a result she deliberately squirmed out of her jacket and swam free. I can't imagine the horror as one of her crew pulled aboard an empty Spinlock tethered to the boat but sans occupant. In the process of trying to recover her, they crash gybed with a fully sheeted in main, shearing off the stoppers on the main track. As the boom was now loose and with only two crew available on deck, they believe it took miles before they were able to drop the main, throwing lifejackets over the back in a Hansel & Gretel like attempt to have a trail to follow once they were in control.
Lessons we learnt from the experience were that we should have maintained contact with Prue, using the spotlight for her and handheld flares to get the helicopter over. Given we were short crewed, it may have been an idea to use a handheld and keep us both on deck, though I'm not sure if the wind would have precluded a useful transmission. We were also close enough to use a throw line, and I tried but it came back like a boomerang - had I calmed down a bit and actually looked at it, I would have realised that the Velcro collar needs removing before you throw the thing. Had we been the only people there, I shudder to think about what we would have done - it's something I'm still trying to figure out, especially after the JonBuoy had gone.
Finally, a massive amount of praise goes to all those involved. Jukebox were amazing, as were Puma and Jaguar Logic for all the coordinating. The French boat apparently popped up on VHF a while after we had all headed for home - the message apparently hadn't got through and they were asking where to search, so our apologies to them. As I've said, the helicopter guys were brilliant. Rachel was possibly the most calm, composed person within ten miles - I couldn't have asked for a better contrast to my, at times, slightly crazed self and my Uncle timed his few minutes on the radio, clutching sick bucket, to perfection.
We were just phenomenally lucky in finding the proverbial needle in a haystack - I suppose saying a Prue in the Celtic Sea just doesn't have the same ring...
 
Sheep of the Bow said:
;)

Ha - yes, afraid I normally loiter on SA. He it is...


Wrote this up for a couple of people. Thought you guys might like a read.

S.


After an enjoyable Cork Week 2010 my Uncle, Rachel our tactician and myself left to deliver Jeez-Louise back to the RSrnYC, Hamble on the Saturday morning. The forecast was due to build from a WSW F5 to a F6 and swing to the SW that evening, and so we set out expecting an interesting night of it.
By 0100, we were around 35nm NW of Lands End, making our way through fairly large seas in a solid F7, with the odd gust hitting 34kn. Illness had unfortunately confined the Uncle to a leeward bunk, and seen me tucking him in with a bucket and bottle of water for the night at about 2000. Rachel and I had just had a discussion about what our options were if the weather deteriorated further, as we were already under a fully reefed main with no headsail, when the previously silent VHF sprung to life.
One of the two Reflex 38s belonging to Sailing Logic, Puma and Jaguar (I'm afraid I forget which), was broadcasting a mayday relay from Buccaneer, a First 40.7 - one of their crew had gone overboard. Luckily, the J109 Jukebox was a little closer to Lands End than we were, and spent the rest of the night doing a fantastic job of co-ordinating the rescue with Falmouth Coastguard. The MOB position was about 10nm back up our track, and so after discovering that we were the closest boat to the scene, turned about.
During the 90 or so minutes it took us to broad reach over to Buccaneer, a fair amount happened. Only one of the Logic boats was able to assist, the other being to windward and very rightly deciding that running in the conditions would be too dangerous - we made a gybe and it was obvious that many more would destroy the mainsheet setup fairly quickly. Rescue 169, an RAF Sea King had been dispatched from Wales via Culdrose and arrived on scene a few minutes before we did, while two Cornish lifeboats had departed. A French yacht returning from Cork had diverted and Jukebox were a few miles on our stern. Buccaneer had fallen utterly silent since their initial broadcast, with all of us trying in vain to get more details.
During those ninety minutes, we broke out all our safety kit and tested things such as our searchlight, with me quietly thanking God that a failed Fastnet attempt last year meant the boat had one, and a JonBuoy on the stern. Rachel did a fantastic job of manning the radio and, in the odd quiet moment, hitting a bunk and sleeping (I'm desperately jealous of her capacity to sleep in any ****uation...). She also made the welcome point that a parachute flare in the presence of a helicopter may not have been my brightest idea (in my defence, I was shattered) and there was the odd moment of amusement. As I drove, Rachel appeared at the hatch asking how to turn on a flashlight. Before I had a chance to reply I was blinded by the thing as she figured it out whilst aiming it directly at my head. Then there was the Logic boat who was asked by the helicopter as to the sea state. He immediately replied 'rough,' waited a few seconds whilst I assume thinking he'd been out in worse than this, and very composedly corrected himself with a 'moderate to rough.' At least someone had seen worse than this!
During the odd darker moment, we judged her survival chances as being non-existent, and that if we did find her body, we were only capable of marking it - with just two of us, getting anyone aboard in such a vile sea would be too risky. I made an arbitrary guess at the drift rate of a person in the sea state and so we headed for just below it, with the plan of working upwind from there.
As we arrived on station to leeward of the other boats and helicopter, Rachel fired up the spotlight as I drove, scanning the seas around us. After a few minutes, Rach made her way below to check something out and I was left in darkness when I thought I could hear voices. At this stage, I thought I was hallucinating, as there was no chance I could be hearing other crews over the waves - it never really occurred that someone would actually be there. Nevertheless, I figured I may as well tack on it and then heard another faint cry. Still thinking I was on a sleep-deprived trip, I shouted out whether there was anyone there, and heard a 'here!' Diving for the search lamp, I screamed 'shout louder!' and started wildly scanning in the direction of the voice. Utterly amazingly, there was a person bobbing fifteen meters from the boat. Convinced I had now started seeing and hearing things, she may well have been asked whether she was the person who had fallen overboard or not - the answer being rather obvious in hindsight. As she passed to leeward, I fired the JonBuoy off the transom as the boat passed a few meters from her, hoping my delusion hadn't just cost the owner a lot of money. annoyingly, I misjudged how long they take to inflate (expecting an airbag, but getting a balloon being inflated by an asthmatic) and despite her best front crawl, it scooted downwind past her by a couple of meters.
Whilst this was going on above deck, Rachel was below trying to break through all the traffic on ch16 to get the message through. Once done, she was straight on deck to take the light from me. By now we had started to drift away from her as the boat stalled and we had to bare away - my fault as I was hardly concentrating on driving. The final words we heard from her were cries for help - although with hindsight this could have haunted me forever, at the time my immediate reaction was 'what the f**k do you think we turned around in this s**t for!?' Luckily I only muttered that quietly, but screamed that the helicopter would be there soon. After that, we lost her and concentrated on staying relatively stationary whilst the helicopter homed in on us - we had to use the spotlight to illuminate the main anyway, and stand off when we were sure they were in the right spot.
Huge credit to the guys in the helicopter. They worked upwind from the JonBuoy only meters above the water, and we could see someone being lowered in the rather impressive array of lights those things have - it looked like Close Encounters, but at night and with horizontal spray. The next thing I knew, as I switched to driving the boat, was as the helicopter picked up speed and altitude, bearing away towards land. I don't think I could possibly describe the all-encompassing joy that the three of us felt at that sight - they confirmed she was in good spirits and was off for a trip to Truro A&E.
We made it into Falmouth that evening and called the hospital the next morning. Prue, the lady we found, and the crew of Buccaneer had their own story to tell. It transpires that she slipped across the back of the boat whilst tethered on, but fell through the port pushpit and was being drowned as she was dragged through the water - as a result she deliberately squirmed out of her jacket and swam free. I can't imagine the horror as one of her crew pulled aboard an empty Spinlock tethered to the boat but sans occupant. In the process of trying to recover her, they crash gybed with a fully sheeted in main, shearing off the stoppers on the main track. As the boom was now loose and with only two crew available on deck, they believe it took miles before they were able to drop the main, throwing lifejackets over the back in a Hansel & Gretel like attempt to have a trail to follow once they were in control.
Lessons we learnt from the experience were that we should have maintained contact with Prue, using the spotlight for her and handheld flares to get the helicopter over. Given we were short crewed, it may have been an idea to use a handheld and keep us both on deck, though I'm not sure if the wind would have precluded a useful transmission. We were also close enough to use a throw line, and I tried but it came back like a boomerang - had I calmed down a bit and actually looked at it, I would have realised that the Velcro collar needs removing before you throw the thing. Had we been the only people there, I shudder to think about what we would have done - it's something I'm still trying to figure out, especially after the JonBuoy had gone.
Finally, a massive amount of praise goes to all those involved. Jukebox were amazing, as were Puma and Jaguar Logic for all the coordinating. The French boat apparently popped up on VHF a while after we had all headed for home - the message apparently hadn't got through and they were asking where to search, so our apologies to them. As I've said, the helicopter guys were brilliant. Rachel was possibly the most calm, composed person within ten miles - I couldn't have asked for a better contrast to my, at times, slightly crazed self and my Uncle timed his few minutes on the radio, clutching sick bucket, to perfection.
We were just phenomenally lucky in finding the proverbial needle in a haystack - I suppose saying a Prue in the Celtic Sea just doesn't have the same ring...
Click to expand...

Well done Steve and all involved in the rescue and thanks for such a full account. It may save somebodys life in the future if your remarks help us to refine our own plans on how we could react in an emergency. Yes the last time I used a throw line I also forgot to remove the velcro strap. I also now know how long the things take to repack, so our old fashion heaving line is still carried.

I guess the ISAF Sea Survival Courses do pay off.

Peter.
 
toad_oftoadhall said:
Did they consider chucking the life raft over? I assume the pockets would fill and at least she'd have shelter and be out of the water.
Click to expand...

I wasn't aboard so I can't really comment, and there's no point in speculation. I do know they had a lot on their plate though, and I don't believe that the 40.7 has an open transom like we do - all I'd have to do is slash the binding and kick it and the thing is gone. It think it'd take two or three just to lift it over the back.

S.
 
"...............and a JonBuoy on the stern."
can somebody tell me a bit more about these? I am very concious that the horseshoe buoy arrangement etc on my transom is probably not fit for purpose, and although I never hope to have to use anything like this in anger, I would like a decent bit of kit in case. A quick Google has not revealed all that much. Thanks in advance
 
We should have a horseshoe and light, but lost it racing in 25kn on the Thursday. We didn't get a chance to get a new one and so it was only by luck that I asked one of the crew to mount it on the morning of the delivery.

Think of a fluorescent yellow inflatable one man liferaft. It lives in a white box about the six of two shoeboxes with a handle on the back (facing the cockpit), that you just pull to set off. When pulled, it drops off the back and inflates, having the liferaft base and four pillars like a pyramid, and a long bit on top with a flag. When it comes to recovery, they're a joy because they have an integral lifting strop - you just clip a halyard on and grind, so avoid running them over or ramming them into the side of the boat. Not cheap, but as the owner said when I text the crew 'screw the JonBuoy.'

Like this http://www.safety-marine.co.uk/Life-Buoys-and-Life-Saving/Jonbuoy-MOB-Recovery-Module.htm?P4233-S21-

S.
 
One thing that I think we could all learn from here, and a question that has been asked "elsewhere", so appologies for the repeat.

You said you did some rough guestimations about drift rate in those conditions. Yet you clearly absolutely nailed it. Would you be preapred to reveal (or can you recall) what those guestimates were?
 
georgeo said:
"...............and a JonBuoy on the stern."
can somebody tell me a bit more about these?
Click to expand...

I have one, although I've never used it (and long may that continue). I'm surprised they're not more common - seems like an excellent piece of kit.

Essentially, it's like a small one-man liferaft. No canopy, and your feet would probably be trailing in the sea, but you can get mostly out of the water onto it. It has a 3-foot pyramid-shaped frame surmounted by a further three feet of mast with a flag on top, so should be fairly visible. It has a whistle, light, heaving line, etc, and comes with a bag attached into which you can add things like flares or a handheld VHF (it's not sealed like a liferaft so with a little care you can unpack and repack to add these things).

It has a big lifting ring of stiff webbing at the top of the 3-foot inflatable frame, so if you have a suitable tackle or halyard you can clip onto that and hoist someone up the side fairly easily. My topsides are low enough to reach that ring directly, but even with a bigger boat you ought to be able to grab the flagpole to begin with. A cooperative casualty has the throwing quoit and line available too.

The whole lot stows in a smallish box designed to be clamped to the pushpit (some websites seem to have copied and pasted an erroneous set of dimensions that make it out to be about twice the size it really is). This consists of a base plate, to which is strapped a box made of two loosely-fitting halves. There's a spring attached to the baseplate, so that when the strap is released the box will be thrown outwards. An 18" lanyard attached to the baseplate yanks on what is essentially a lifejacket manual inflator in the raft, and releases the CO2.

The strap is secured by a standard buckle like a diving weight-belt, but it's fixed to the outer box in such a way that it acts more like a release lever to be pulled down. It's well labelled and obvious, and in any case my briefing for new people includes showing them this lever to be pulled as a first immediate action in case of MOB. You can also buy a remote-operation kit which knocks the buckle open via a CO2-activated ram and an electrical trigger, but this seems overpriced when a bowden cable would do the job in many installations.

The cylinders can be bought separately, and all the parts remain attached to either the boat or the raft when deployed. So assuming you manage to retrieve your casualty (or accidentally-launched raft :) ) you could re-arm and re-pack it on board which seems useful for long-range voyaging. I'm tempted to set mine off one autumn for a more realistic drill, then wash, dry and re-pack it and call it a service.

The only downside appears to be the price, although it's important to consider it against a new horseshoe, light, drogue, dan-buoy setup. When bought, KS carried only a single rather ratty horseshoe with no other kit, so I'd have been spending money anyway. With no pushpit and the whole stern swept by the mizzen boom, stowing the traditional gear on KS would have been a challenge, and rather ugly on a boat of her character. The jon buoy box is mounted so that it continues the line of the dodgers, and is fairly unobtrusive.

I'm a fan :)

Pete
 
Sheep of the Bow, f***ing well done to you and your crew. There were a number of heros out there that night, in particular Prue, who had the spirit not to give up. In a world that rewards all sorts of idiots for not doing very much, all of the true heros should be lauded greatly. As a father, I can imagine that Prues parents would want to shake the hands of all who were invloved in this fantastic rescue.
Allan
 
Thank you Sheep of the Bow well done, not a position I would like to have been in - and I'm pretty sure I would not have coped as well as you did.

So Prue wasn't actually "trapped", but just tethered by her life line & being dragged along unable to breathe. That's food for thought for those of us who prefer life-lines to life jackets.

Incidentally, you tell the story well, I felt as if I was with you when reading it. Stuff like trying to switch the light on & then blinding you - I have done that myself. It also illustrates the difficulties of actually getting to someone under sail even after you have spotted them in those conditions.
 
The tether issue is an interesting one - I don't think that there's really a correct answer, but I think I recall a story during a RORC race over the last few years. It may have been the '07 Fastnet (which nearly killed me with seasickness!), where a skipper flipped over the back, was dragged but fairly rapidly pulled himself back aboard, the complete opposite of Prue's experience.

I've posted responses to a lot of questions asked on the dark side. Sorry, Sailing Anarchy. It's a little way down the front page, but if there's anything missed then just give me a shout, or is to even mention SA on here punishable by death?

S.
 
MoodyNick said:
This finally proves that life jackets are not as essential as some people make them out to be.
Click to expand...


well I did findyour post brought a wry smile even if others are a bit straight laced....concerning what is of course a very serious subject.

that boat you have for sale, with or without lifejackets? :-)

I was sailing with a couple last week and one of them had gone into the water a couple of weeks ago between their own yacht and the finger of the landing satge. Luckily just off the bow where there was still space for her in the water between boat and finger. The skipper didn't hear the splash and didn't realise the problem as his back was turned.
Another person heard the calls and ran to assist and retrieve the now stricken crew.
The lifejacket was inflated up round the distressed persons neck.... no crotch strap!!
 
Last edited:
Bloody Hell! My heart was raised a few beats reading that. I too, like Flaming, would be interested in what you used for the drift rate and why. A lot of food for thought.

Great news indeed and well done.
 
I gather that there was also a yachtmaster instructor onboard when Prue went overboard, it would be interesting to see his comments.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Other threads that may be of interest

T
Notices to Mariners - Week 51
Replies
4
Views
847
Shaz77
S

Share this page

Top