Embarrassing moments

[Guest]

OK, you've all read about Hadyn filling the diesel tanks with water (a simple mistake anyone over the age of sixty with a Princess could make!)

I have had a few embarrassing moments myself. The greatest was watching a large submarine pass astern of us on its way down the Clyde. When I looked round, the windscreen was full of sails and rigging - hard a starboard and missed yacht by at least a foot but, unfortunately, clipped his towed dinghy to its permanent detriment. I did pay for my mistake!

Come on now, confess all to Aunty Nick, Whats your most embarrassing boating moment? Give us all a laugh!

Nick

 

[Guest]

First ever boat trip....hire boat on the Broads...we'd done ok coming alongside,but it was rather windy....a kind "spectator" helped by securing the bow, but my hastily remembered knot from the hoseasons boating manual was unfortunately not exactly as the diagram showed it.......it was meant to be a round turn and two half hitches round a ring.....but as we watched,it simply unravelled to nothing as the wind pulled on it!

 

[Guest]

Jumping ashore on Poole town quay to tie up alongside ,turning to the wife to say something and noticing that she had hold of BOTH ends of the stern line.

I had to make a rather large and lengthy leap for the boat which had turned in the tide and was off on its own !

Oh and there was the holding tank which the kids managed to fill to the brim,the fuse blew on the pump and the tank was in danger of splitting and spilling its contents into the bilge.

So in an effort to relieve the pressure in the tank I loosed off the cap ...a little.......I leave the rest to your imagination !

 

[Guest]

There have been so many, Nick but the one I really still cringe about was this one. I had jointly owned a boat on the Thames with a friend, Toby, and after one season, we felt ready to tackle the wide blue yonder so we chopped in our sports boat for a secondhand Sealine 305 flybridge cruiser from Quay Marine (now Sealine Sales) at Bursleden on the Hamble with the idea of testing our skills in the Solent

We had planned our maiden voyage for Good Friday. I, having read a magazine article about navigation, was designated the ship's captain and navigator and, just to be on the safe side, I decided we should leave our berth at the top of the tide in the afternoon. We arrived at the boat in good time with our respective girlfriends Suzi (now, my wife) and Carol. I had never met Carol before and she arrived with a hairy mongrel dog of uncertain parentage and even more uncertain personal hygeine habits; I eyed this beast with some suspicion as I had visions of dog hairs and paw marks all over our pristine saloon carpet but Carol seemed deeply attached to it so I kept my mouth shut.

After a suitably boozy celebratory lunch in the adjacent pub and the obligatory purchase of one of those blue skippers caps for me, the appointed hour came and we fired up our rather noisy and smoky Volvos. A few people had gathered on the pontoon and one of them shouted something to me; I could'nt hear him and I flashed him one of those 'piss off, cant you see I'm busy' smiles and the girls cast us off whilst Toby and I wrestled with the controls on the flybridge.

We managed to leave our berth without significant collateral damage and pottered off downstream towards Bursleden Bridge on a slightly ebbing tide, Toby and I on our flybridge masters of all we surveyed. As we approached the bridge (and some of you will already have guessed what happened next), I noticed quite a few people gathered on the bridge; one of them waved earnestly at us and I gave a suitable skipper's type regal wave back. At that moment, Suzi, who was on the bow, suddenly started gesticulating frantically and pointing wildly upwards; I muttered something to Toby about 'time of the month' and decided to ignore her.

Toby and I both realised at the same time. We were too high to get under the bridge! Toby slammed the controls into reverse but it was too late; we slewed sideways and the tide took us into the bridge. For a second I thought we'd be alright but the underside of the bridge wiped off the radar dome with a heart rending crash of steel and grp, followed by a huge howl from the cockpit below. I looked behind and saw that the radar dome had smacked Carol's dog flush on the head and he was performing a sort of St Vitus' dance in the cockpit.

To the sound of laughter and abuse from the watchers on the bridge, a wildly sobbing Carol, a howling dog and my ears burning from one of those 'I told you so' lectures from Suzi (I'm well used to them now!), we limped back to our berth to survey the damage.

After stowing the errant radar dome in the saloon and allowing a suitable time for the crowds to disperse, we set off again and actually completed our Easter cruise without further mishap. Carol's dog spent the remainder of the trip cowering under the saloon table reasoning, I suppose, that it was the one place he was safe from objects falling unexpectedly out of the sky

Carol never came on the boat again and gave Toby the old 'boat or me' routine and, for a while, Toby's more primitive urges held sway. Our only consolation was that I learned later that Sealine's chairman had done the exact same thing a few weeks earlier with a much more expensive boat so we were in good company

 

[Guest]

Entering the Ousterschelte in Holland through the sea lock, Rompotsluis (or that's what it sounds like) we tied up using the fixed bollards built into the side.

The sides of the lock were about 20 feet up so we decided, with some difficulty, to attach 2 further lines well up the lock side on the assumption that we were set to rise in the lock. The only other boat in the lock, a Dutchman looked somewhat bemused.

We soon realised why. The lock actually dropped a good 2 inches.

Well, it had been a long journey up the coast!!

 

[Guest]

Becalmed on Windermere in our Osprey sailing dinghy many years ago we tied the kids dinghy with outboard alongside for the long trip to Bowness from the bottom side of the lake.

Half way up I was seconds too late to see the rope holding the dinghy undoing its self and the dinghy taking off, going nearly out of sight before returning ten minuites latter, only to pass by and carry on the wide sweep of the lake.

We tried numerous times to judge where the dinghy would pass and paddled like hell to reach the apropriate spot. Only to find the dinghy changing course at the last minuite.

After the sixth atempt my son aged about ten at the time, took a flying leep and some how landed in the dinghy.

Wife has one as well.

She put the whole of a 36ft Broads cruiser in a field whilst reading the map. ( the cows were frightened to death)

 

[Guest]

manouvering out of a crowded lock at Hythe Marina and discovering that something serious had broke meaning that when I pushed the control to go forwards I was in fact accelerating backwards into some somewhat irate yachties!

 

[Guest]

Mine was probably in the Marina.You know that place where there is no-one about if you are cutting about inch perfect but at the first sign of anything going wrong, loads of people you have never seen before appear out of no-where to make boating a top spectator sport. I decided to clean the waterline of the boat and after finishing the side next to the pontoon, my son (aged 10 at the time)and I decided to launch the dingy and outboard to complete the job. All was going well, as I just slipped it into gear, let it slip along a couple of feet and then nudge it into neutral again.Unfortunately, my son thought he would tie the rope at the front on to the rail just to secure us a bit better but as I was facing backwards, I had not noticed this and as I once again popped her into forward, instead of moving forward slightly, the rear of the dingy swung outwards as the front was no longer able to go forward.My big mistake was standing up and trying to lean out and grap the side rails.As the boat swung further outwards you have this confident feeling that you are now at an angle from which even a Russian Gynnast could not stand up straight from.My son by this time had untied the rope and the dingy proceeded forward, still in gear.Luckily, the outboard swung to the side and he ticked nicely round the bow of the boat and nudged neatly into the pontoon and was able to step ashore comfortably and tie up the dingy.As he walked back to the stern, I came swimming round to the bathing platform to further discover how impossible it is to climb aboard when the med style bathing ladder has not been folded out in advance.The comment I heard was "Dad, what are you doing in there, is it not freezing" As if to prove this point, my whole body was bright red, as if I had been sandblasted, when I stripped off to change clothing and I was still shivering hours later.I am now a firm believer that you cannot go boating, even for a few hours without having "an adventure" as our family calls all these stories.People still ask me why I keep changes of clothing in the cupboards when I rarely stay on it.They are all "adventure outfits"I explain.

 

[Guest]

Picture, if you will a 1976 Winner Baronet weekender, a notable cathedral hull double skinned trailboat of 21 feet, equipped with a Johnson 125 outboard. The boat weighs nearly 1.5 tons and is being towed up the steepest hill in Sussex by an elderly Triumph Herald, a 'gift' from my father in law. We are only halfway up the hill and are now down to first gear, and the rig is slowing to a standstill. As we near the crest the clutch burns out, the engine goes to All Stop in a cloud of blue smoke, and your writer, determined to get afloat, determines that something a tad more powerful is needed for dragging ships around. A friendly AA man eventually arrives, leaves the car by the wayside in the hope that it will be stolen, but tows the boat home.

It is now a month later. An elderly Land Rover has been got from a local farmer, and the clutchless, seized, head-gasket-less Herald sold to an impecunious neighbour as an 'interesting classic' . The Land Rover is the job, people tell me, and I spend a week scraping the cow shit off it and learning how to cope with three gear levers. A tow ball is affixed to the front bumper, in the manner of trailer sailors, and the Winner Baronet is shunted about in the drive from the front of the Land Rover to get the hang of it.

Scene 2, Act 1

We now are at the River Medway, in Tonbridge at the public slip. It is a hot Bank Holiday, and there are crowds of holidaying people bathing from the slipway, drinking cans of Tennants Extra, and urinating in the river. This marks them as natives of Kent, and they are shooed imperiously away from the slip so my proud and haughty boat can take to the water. The Winner is unhitched from the stern of the Landrover and attached to the front towball, and slowly, precisely, your heroine inches this fabulous vessel into the stream. Gracefully, she rises to the river and the stern floats off the trailer in a splendid manner. There is a round of appreciative applause from the good people of Kent, who have paused a moment from relieving themselves and eating fish and chips (at the same time) to watch the spectacle.

It is now time to get aboard, start the engine, and unhitch the winchline. My dear spouse, following in the 'chase car' seems to have got lost, so I clamber over the bows, noting how professional all this looks, hop into the cockpit, and start the engine. There is another round of applause from the now sizable crowd, and a small boy offers me a chip by way of appreciation.

There is a hitch unhitching the winchline from the eye on the bow. The strain of towing has distorted the snapshackle, and no amount of cussing will get it free. Meanwhile, the sun beats down, the 125 hp Johnson emits a deep throb, the Land Rover engine purrs, and a palpable haze of two stroke oil, Tennants Extra and non-brewed condiment drifts over the river.

Scene 2 Act II

With a final yank, the snap shackle came off, and the boat was now only attached by the bowline, which I had thoughtfully secured to the trailer, the better for to grab it and warp the boat to her berth. I climbed onto the trailer, grabbed the bowline and gave the bow a push. In an infinitely long moment of utter embarrassment, the boat, trailer, myself, bowline, and Land Rover rolled gently down the slipway into the river as single nautical ensemble.

It is a truism that diesel engines can run as long as they have fuel and air, and when the cheery AA man finally arrived an hour later (we'd met a month or so earlier) the Land Rover engine was still running, submerged up to the windscreen in the Medway, and nobody brave enough, despite the Tennants Extra to swim aboard, dive down to find reverse, and drive her out. The boat though, floated peacefully at her berth, alongside the chugging Landrover, of which only the cabin roof and rear portions where visible. A spume of brown river water emerged from under the bonnet, where the fan was still going, and several urchins besported themselves in the spray, much to the amusement of onlookers.

The Land Rover, with an interesting aroma disgracing the interior, was sold as an 'interesting classic' month later, and the Winner Baronet, beautiful though she was, was exchanged for a tiny 16 footer, which could be towed behind the company Cortina. and launched by a complete fool.

This writer will never again set foot in a Land Rover, unless is it equipped with a periscope and scuba gear, but oddly, still has a fondness for trailer boats, two-stroke fumes, and the smell of Tennants Extra and fish and chips.

Best

Sue

 

[Guest]

Two that stick in my memory: A few years ago on my previous boat on a diving trip. We were looking for a wrecked U-Boat that had sunked during the war after hitting a man made barrier sub-merged off Bembridge. My mate was reading a text from the wreck book describing how the Uboat hit this sub-merged barrier as we were trying to find it. Just as I said how could a uboat hit this barrier we bounced on it and got stuck (we had got our estimated distance from a land mark badly wrong). As the tide dropped a quick response from us and the boat was pushed back in the water with only minor gelcoat damage.

Another time I had just spent the winter buying a new anchor ready for our first diving trip. We found our perfect anchorage and he dropped the anchor, it was then we both watched as the other end disappeared below the surface. He then spent half-hour diving with no sucess.

RM.

 

[Guest]

Re: Embarrassing moments - prize

It is my intention to send the best submission here a bottle of something interesting! I appoint myself sole arbiter as this is my thread! In my opinion therefore the current leaders are

1 Sue 2 BillS 3 Hadyns wife

The closing date is 30 April

 

[Guest]

Proud owner of newly aquired sports cruiser (long ago but not long enough !)Having spent our first weekend aboard it was time to take the boat to its mooring behind Belle Isle on Windermere.We had just had a new baby so my wife stayed with her in car rather than brave tender of questionable age and condition. When i get to the mooring i realise picking it up in a strong cross wind with no side decks was not going to be the ideal job for a first time single handed. Eventually hooked the bouy from the rear cockpit and decided to walk forward along the 2" wide side decks holding the rope attached to the mooring. You have already guessed what happened, next- the side deck disappeared and i dropped rather like Wylie Cayote stepping off a cliff! While under the water (Still holding mooring rope in one hand)I had the thought that at least no one would have seen me at 7.00pm on an early season Sunday night.The thought stayed with right untill I surfaced to see a trip boat with a couple of hundread people on it gliding silently past. I still get panic attacks every time You've been Framed comes on !

 

[Guest]

The most famous of course and aparently true, is the story of the USS Enterprise. The officer on watch on seeing a blip on the radar speaks through the VHF.

"Ship at Lat---- Long----- This is the USS Enterprise please turn to port".

Back comes the reply.

" This is seaman Jones sugest you turn to Starboard"

Enterprise.

"This is the warship Enterprise we have admiral ?? on board and strongly recomend you, turn to port".

Seaman Jones replys " This is seaman Jones, I still suggest you turn to starboard."

"This is the Eddiston Lighthouse"!!

 

[Guest]

Many years ago in the mid 80's myself and two brothers in law bought our first boat, a Shetland 535. We insured it on the Friday before the August Bank Holiday weekend so that we could go down to Paignton to launch on the Monday. We had no idea how crowded Torbay can be especially over the holiday period and more especially with Virgin Atlantic Challenger paying a visit. We had a rather large number of family in tow, wives, girlfriends, in laws and children, totalling about 9 in all. After much manouvering on the slipway trying to avoid everyone else we finally launched and as I regularly went diving I was nominated as skipper so as in laws and no. 2 brother in law went to park cars and trailer I was left with other brother in law and his girlfriend to move the boat so the others could easily board. This involved just leaving the harbour entrance and turning around and coming back in again. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Well it would have been apart from dozens of sailing dinghies milling about and the not quite so small Torbay ferry entering harbour at the same time. Panic! Open the throttle to try and remove 17' Shetland from path of 60' ferry! I still blame brother in law for not fending off properly and throwing himself into the water just at the point of impact. Luckily we were only holed above the water line and the only other casualty was myself as my leg broke the steering wheel. The look of amazement and puzzlement as the rest of the family returned from parking to see our pride and joy minus one crew member and rather a large part of the starboard bow section missing and my bloodied leg is still a vivid memory. As I was somewhat stunned my father in law took control of the situation and decided that before the boat sank it should be rowed back to the slipway. Just one small problem - no oars. However he made do with a kitchen mop that just happened to be on board. Just picture a small cabin cruiser with a large gash in the bows being rowed back into port by way of a mop with a large appreciative audience in attendance, and other members of the family asking what had happened. I almost forgot to mention that father in law was born in Paignton and one of his sisters just happened to be looking down towards the harbour (not knowing that any of us were there) and saying to her husband "that looks like Claude (yes that is his name!) down there rowing a boat with a mop." As you can imagine it has been rather hard to live this episode down and although it is now some 16 years later some of my more cruel diving colleagues still refer to me as Captain Whatferry or even Captain Runaground, but that's another story!