Jonah and The Whale

Monday January 2^nd 2012

“Wake up, come on get up, the weather’s great, the other boats have already left, let’s get going”.  It was one of those mornings when I was fast asleep, usually I get up anywhere between 4 and 6 because I managed a few hours sleep, but last night after the stress’s of the day I was so anxious I’d been unable to sleep until the early hours.  Bob was tugging gently on my foot and grinning like a Cheshire cat, obviously excited at the prospect of moving away from the flats and out of the bay.  “Can I at least get breakfast”? I said unable to disguise my obvious disinterest at the prospect of setting out again.  “No, don’t worry about that, lets just get going, I’ll get breakfast when we’re underway”.  He was so keen to get moving.  “OH crap” I said to myself as I dragged my sorry ass out of the bed, and pulled on yesterday’s crumpled clothes.

It was a beautiful morning, but still windy.  Bob had checked several of the nautical weather reports and they all reported calm conditions and light winds.

 It was a long slow job bringing up the anchor as it was covered in the thick, nasty, slimy sludge from the seabed, I was having to hose it off inch by inch so it didn’t get all over the decks, and it was taking ages, we had over 200 feet of chain down.  Once the anchor was up I went back to the cockpit and Bob motored us towards the breakwater, we called the port captain to report our intentions and then raised the mainsail to steady the boat as the wind was blowing 27+ knots.  As we reached the breakwater I could see the white-capped water and it looked rough, the wind speed had gone from 30 to 45 knots and Bob said, we should go back as it was too rough.  I can’t begin to express my relief, I felt as though I’d been pulled from the brink of death.  Now I realize that’s a little dramatic, but you have to understand how much I truly am scared to death of rough seas. 

We brought the sail in and called the port Captain again, he’s going to think we’re idiots! We did this three times yesterday.  We motored back to the flats, and once again dropped anchor.  “OK, we’ll just have a quiet day relaxing”, Bob said.  I could tell he was disappointed but I know he had made the right decision.  “We can try again tomorrow,” I said. 

I was excited at the prospect of a day without work and stress.  The flats are not a picturesque place to be, surrounded by all the container ships and the busy shipyard, but there’s a great breeze, and we’re well protected so it could be worse, and the weather was lovely. To cheer Bob up I cooked a full English breakfast, with cheese omelet, bacon, and grilled tomatoes, then I pulled out my computer and made myself comfortable for a day of writing.

In the Bay at the entrance to the Panama Canal 

Always restless and unable to sit and read for long, Bob decided he would work on our other salon hatch window. The seals badly needed replacing as it leaks badly in bad weather, he replaced the other one yesterday, it took all afternoon, but it was a good job done.  Just as he was about to pull the window out he said “You know the weather seems better, let’s try again”…  Crap, crap, crap… “OK” I said with forced enthusiasm, trying to show some support.  I readied the boat, brought the anchor up (AGAIN) and off we set.  We called the Port Captain (AGAIN) and reported our intentions; he warned us that conditions were the same.  I know he must think we are quite mad, by now, and certainly living up to the name Crazy Daisy. 

It was still blowing a consistent 27 knots in the bay and I was feeling very anxious, but I knew that if the conditions really were not safe Bob would turn back again.  We reached the breakwater, and nothing looked different to me, the seas were still huge and white-capped, the wind was still blowing 40+knots, but we headed out anyway. 

As we passed through the breakwater Daisy nose-dived into the most enormous wave that literally swallowed her, I felt like Jonah being swallowed by the whale, the wave completely engulfed 60 feet of boat, almost knocking Bob off the helm, it totally flooded the cockpit, the water poured down through the open companionway soaking everything below, and the two of us were almost drowned, as was everything else.  The boom was crashing from side to side, and doors were banging below. I sat hunched up under the dodger hanging on for dear life in paralyzing fear, I can’t even find the words to accurately describe how terrified I was, it was the most frightening moment in my life, and it wasn’t about to end, there could be 2 – 3 hours of this.  The waves were big by any standards, and we were bobbing around like a cork bashing through them.  I was praying Bob would turn back, but I was in such a state of shock I couldn’t speak. It felt as though my gut was in a vice, and I was dangerously close to a panic attack, but I knew that Bob couldn’t leave the helm, I struggled so hard to control my breathing, I was gasping for breath making every effort to control myself. I kept facing forward so Bob couldn’t see the terror that must have been on my face; he had to concentrate all his attention on maneuvering Daisy through the waves. Convinced things would improve, and (stupidly in my mind) believing the weather reports, he carried on.

Word of warning here “NEVER TRUST WEATHER REPORTS” they had been so consistently wrong on every level, I will never trust them ever again.

The leg to Portobello was so unbelievably bad (for me) the whole way I thought I was going to have a heart attack, I felt physically ill with fear, and was literally unable to move other than the second I bolted below between wave attacks, and dived under the covers of the bed where I lay soaking, shaking, and swearing that if I survive this, I’ll never to do it again.  I’ve said that many times over the past 5 years, but the good times keep bringing me back, and just taking the risk that I’ll OK this time.  But, this last time really feels like the last time for me, we'll see .  

Portobelo

I have to get back to Shelter Bay next week, and hopefully we’ll have better conditions to do it in, I could still change my mind, I’m good at that, but the way I feel right now I just want to get off the boat and return to something normal before this life takes mine…